Casyn raised a hand for us to stop. The messenger drew his horse up, saluted Casyn, and handed him a sealed note. “From the Emperor, General,” he said.
“Thank you,” Casyn said. “Are you to take a reply?”
“No, sir.”
“Ride with us to the next watch-tower; you can rest yourself and your horse there. We will stop briefly,” Casyn ordered. He opened the note, scanning it quickly. He frowned, then refolded the note and slipped it into his saddlebag. “Forward,” he said.
I glanced at Cillian, but his face showed me nothing. We rode on. The rain was definitely lighter now, the sky brighter. A curlew called. A stone-bird, flicking its wings, sang its sharp, tapping song from on top of a small bush. Suran snorted and rippled his skin. A pale and watery sun broke through the cloud; I pushed the hood back off my face to let the wind—a breeze now—blow through my hair. My back ached, and I needed a latrine. I hoped the next watch-tower wasn’t too far.
I saw the beacon tower with its iron basket first, rising above a shallow dip in the land and the road. We trotted into the interior yard of the watch-tower; Casyn barely gave us time to relieve ourselves before ordering us into the small guardroom. The messenger had been given responsibility for the horses, instead of Birel.
The door closed firmly behind us, Birel lit a small lamp to give the room some light. “The Emperor tells me,” Casyn said without preamble, “that Lorcann was displeased that we rode east without a Linrathan guard, even though he did not send one when he asked us to imprison you, Cillian. He has sent men to meet us. Once they reach us, I doubt any conversation between you will be tolerated. In addition, Lorcann demands, and the Emperor has acceded to this request, that we ride directly to the White Fort, not stopping until we reach it. At which time, your trial, Lena and Cillian, will begin, without time for discussion or counsel.”
We were to arrive at the White Fort exhausted, cold and hungry, and go immediately to trial? What chance would we have, to defend ourselves? “That is unfair!” I said. “Why would the Emperor agree to such a request?”
“He will have his reasons,” Cillian said.
“Yes,” Casyn said sharply, “he will. And one of them may be that your Teannasach is now in his debt.”
Cillian nodded. “Perhaps,” he agreed. “And perhaps another is that tired and hungry, we will not have the energy or spirit to maintain any lies, any collusion.”
“Were you planning on such?” Casyn asked.
“We are just going to tell the truth, General,” Cillian said. “Calmly, if that concerns you. There is nothing else to do.”
Casyn raised an eyebrow. “Does that truth include the subject of my questioning this morning?”
“If needed, yes,” Cillian answered. “And it may be. I will not hide behind secrets at the expense of my—or Lena’s—life.”
“I would not expect you to,” Casyn said. “I ask only so I can prepare the Emperor.” He turned his head at sounds in the courtyard. “I think your escort has arrived,” he said. “I hope for the best, for you both.” He offered me his arm, in the soldier’s gesture; I gripped it, wishing I could think of something to say. With a brief clasp of his hand on Cillian’s shoulder, he opened the door, going out to speak to the men who had arrived.
I turned to Cillian. “I have a plan,” he murmured. “I was going to tell you, but now you must trust me.” Two men came into the hut, both middle aged, both wearing the tough woven cloth of Linrathe in its muted colours, but over it, leather vests and leggings, and swords on their hips.
“Cillian na Perras,” one of them said. “We are sent by the Teannasach to guard you on your journey. Please come with us.” With one last glance my way, Cillian did as they asked. Outside, we mounted, submitted to the shackles, and began to move away from the watch-tower, Cillian and the men of Linrathe riding ahead of Casyn, Birel and me.
The road was wide enough for us to ride three abreast. We trotted, but it was clear to me Suran was tired. “We cannot reach the White Fort tonight on these horses,” I said.
“No,” Casyn agreed. “At the next fort, we will switch horses, and again once or twice after that. I sent the messenger ahead to ask for replacement mounts to be ready. Be prepared for fast riding, Lena.”
“Why did the Emperor agree to this?” I asked again.
Casyn shook his head. “I do not know,” he said. “But I know very little of Lorcann, except what I saw of him during the truce negotiations, and even then Donnalch did most of the talking. Callan will have got to know him a bit better over these past weeks. He will have his reasons, but I do not know what they are.”
“Cillian says he is hot-headed, quick to anger,” I offered.
“That fits with what I saw,” Casyn agreed. “Things were either right or wrong, and he was impatient, especially with detail. Quite different from the Emperor and Donnalch. I respected Donnalch, for all he was an enemy at the time.”
“So did I,” I said. “He was considerate, and thoughtful, and curious about different ways of thinking. And he knew how to inspire men to fight, even if it meant not always telling the complete truth, by drawing on what is dear to them to raise their anger. Did you know, General, that the common men of Linrathe thought they were invading us to free the women’s villages from our unnatural lives, to let us be free to marry and live with our men and our children?” I did not try to hide the bitterness and anger that insinuated themselves into my voice as I spoke these last sentences. I no longer cared if Casyn knew how I felt.
“I did,” he said.
“A common tactic, among military leaders, to tug at our heartstrings so that we will agree to their plans.”
“One we use, yes. On occasion.”
“As I know,” I said, the anger spurting again at this calm admission. We rode a few paces without speaking. “General,” I said, when I was sure I had control of my voice. “I find it hard to believe, now, that Donnalch made arrangements with Nevin and Vilnas to breach the Wall as his first course of action. Were there not approaches made for a peaceful alliance?”
“An alliance was not exactly what Donnalch wanted,” Casyn replied. “He wanted free movement of people across the border, so that northmen, and women, could come and settle on our lands, but outside of Partition, and have access to the southern trade. In return, men and women of the Empire who wanted a different life would have been free to travel north of the Wall. It was too much, too sudden, even given the Emperor was already considering the need for a review of the Partition agreement, not to mention it was not exactly a fair exchange. Our lands, especially in the fertile south, would have been—are—very attractive to those who battle against long winters and thin and rocky soils in Linrathe.”
“So,” I said, puzzling it out, “had we had the new Assembly, and the vote had been to change our way of life, then he would have had something different to offer to Donnalch. A compromise, of sorts?”
“Perhaps,” Casyn agreed. “That was the plan.”
“Then why did Donnalch chose to invade when he did? Surely he could have waited to see the outcome of the new Assembly?”
“For one, he had no idea what Callan was planning. How could he? You know how the threat from Leste played into that idea; once we had asked the women’s villages to fight, we had changed the agreement, and had grounds for a new Assembly. Had that not happened, it could have been years before the idea gained support.”
“And the Emperor thought Donnalch would wait that long?”
“I think he might have, except—and I am guessing here, Lena, for none of this was ever said to us in any negotiation—that the ill-health and impending death of the Marai king made Donnalch act sooner.”
“Yes,” I said, “that fits something I heard at the Ti’ach.” I thought back, remembering candles, and wine, and an evening-dark room. “That if Donnalch could negotiate a treaty of equals with the Emperor, then it would be time to challenge the terms of his treaty with the Marai, especially with a new king.”
“Exactly so,” Casyn said. “I am glad to have my guess confirmed. And if that treaty of equals with our Empire came after a show of force by Donnalch, all the better to demonstrate to the Marai that they were dealing with a strong opponent.”
“Except Donnalch expected Ǻsmund to be king, not Fritjof, and he and Ǻsmund were childhood friends.”
“Such friendships can mean little, when leaders sit down to negotiate,” Callan said. “But Lorcann says they misjudged Fritjof’s ambition: even among the Marai, to kill your own brother is nearly unheard of. He rules by threat and blood, and promises of great wealth.”
None of this helped me, but it would give me something to think about, to quell the panic rising in my gut, the closer we got to the White Fort. I had one more question. “Did you really not know about the Marai?” I asked.
“Not really, no,” Casyn answered. “We knew there was a king to whom Linrathe paid tribute for their northern borderlands, but beyond that, no. They had never been mentioned as a threat. The peace between them had gone on for so long, you see. Perhaps if Colm had lived, and kept up his correspondence with the scholars of Linrathe, or spent some time north of the Wall, we might have known.”
The next fort lay just ahead of us. We rode through its western gate: horses awaited us. Soldiers helped transfer our saddlebags, and then we were riding again, fast now, galloping along the stones of the road.
It was not yet midnight when we rode through the gates of the White Fort. The sky danced with stars, the clouds and rain of earlier in the day blown further east. The sparks of light blurred as I looked up, exhaustion fogging my vision. I slumped in the saddle, waiting for my shackles to be removed so I could dismount.
I stumbled my way under guard to a latrine. Someone gave me a waterskin. I drank thirstily. We had had neither food nor drink since before the last fort, save for a few bites of dried apple and cheese, eaten as we rode.
I stretched, easing cramped muscles. Torches flickered on the wall outside the great wooden door that led into the antechamber of the hall. Behind those doors waited the Emperor, and the Teannasach of Linrathe, our judges. Birel appeared at my side. “Drink this,” he said, “just a sip or two, not too much.” I took the small flask, tipping a drop of the liquid onto my tongue, tasting smoke and fire. Fuisce, Donnalch had called it. I took a larger sip, and handed the flask back to Birel.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Now, food,” he said. “You’re not facing a trial without food inside you, Guardswoman.”
I shook my head. “I can’t eat.”
“You must,” he said firmly. He handed me a slice of something. “Just nibble this,” he instructed. I did as he asked. How could I refuse? The sweetness and spice of a dense, fruit-studded cake filled my mouth, the taste like that of the harvest cakes of Tirvan, baked rich and sweet to fuel the hard work of reaping. It almost made me smile.
“Where did you get this?” I asked.
“The Emperor has a liking for sweet things, when he can get them,” he said. “I have friends in the kitchens.”
“Did you give Cillian a piece, too?”
“His guards would not let me give it to him, nor the fuisce,” he said, shaking his head. “Just water, they said.”
He would be exhausted, I thought. I finished the cake. Birel gave me the flask of fuisce again; I swallowed a mouthful, feeling its warmth radiating through me. “Are you ready?” Birel said softly. I shrugged.
“As ever I will be,” I answered. “Birel, thank you, for all you have done, now and in the past.”
He saluted me; I returned the salute. Behind us, I heard the footsteps of Cillian and his guard. My heart pounded in my throat. I could barely swallow. Birel opened the door. The stone walls of the antechamber seemed to move in the gusting light of the torches. Boots pounded sharp and loud on the stone flags, echoing in the empty space. Birel knocked on the right-hand door of the pair that opened into the great hall; the sound reverberated. A detached, wandering part of my mind wondered what Cillian would make of the floor. My legs trembled.
The doors swung open to light and warmth, the two fireplaces and the wall torches blazing. Birel’s hand was on my arm, lightly: I let him propel me forward, towards the long table where the Emperor and the Teannasach sat. Callan wore his dark grey robe and the pendant of silver; Lorcann his heather-hued cloak and golden torc. The clothes of power. I heard Cillian and his guard moving behind me. Callan’s eyes followed him, watching him steadily as he came to stand beside me, but in the firelight I could read no expression on the Emperor’s face, save perhaps a tightening in his jaw.
“Lena, Guardswoman of the Empire,” the Emperor said, in his even, quiet voice, switching his gaze to me, “you stand before me tonight charged with treason, namely, the violation of the truce between the Empire and Linrathe, signed in this very hall. Specifically, you are charged with two crimes. One, the murder of a man of Sorham, a land subservient to Linrathe, during the theft of his boat, disregarding these words of the truce: ‘no raid nor battle will be undertaken by either side during this time of truce, nor any action that leads to the death by violence of a man or woman of the opposing side’. Second, in escaping your captivity by Fritjof of the Marai, your actions led directly to the execution of Donnalch, Teannasach of Linrathe, also held captive by Fritjof, as retaliation for your escape. By the terms of the truce between the Empire and Linrathe, your life is doubly forfeit.”
His eyes had been on me steadily as he spoke, only glancing at the paper in front of him once or twice. There seemed to be no opportunity for response. I felt sweat trickling down between my breasts, although I thought I was cold. Lorcann cleared his throat, and began to speak.
“Cillian na Perras,” he said, his voice rougher than Donnalch’s had been, less musical, “you stand before me tonight charged with two crimes: one being the violation of the truce between Linrathe and the Southern Empire, signed in this very hall. In plotting with the Empire’s hostage, the Guard Lena, to steal a boat, you committed a raid that led to the death of a man of Sorham, in direct violation of the words of the truce: ‘no raid nor battle will be undertaken’. But that is the lesser of your crimes: the other is not a violation of the truce, but an act that led directly to the death of your Teannasach, namely, your flight from the court of King Fritjof of the Marai. For both crimes, the charge is treason, and your life is forfeit.”
Beneath my feet, faces grinned and leered in the flickering firelight. I forced my mind to analyze what had just been said, the subtle differences between the Emperor’s words and Lorcann’s. ‘Fritjof of the Marai’, Callan had called him; ‘King Fritjof’ had been Lorcann’s words. Did this matter?
“Guardswoman.” Callan’s voice broke into my thoughts. “What have you to say to these charges?”
“Emperor,” I tried to say, but the word was a dry croak. Callan nodded to Birel. He walked forward to pour water from a jug, handing me the cup. I drank, a sip or two. Birel took the cup. “Emperor,” I said. “The fisherman of Sorham tried to rape me; I killed him in self-defence. I acknowledge that I was trying to steal his boat, but only to bring word of the Marai invasion to you in time. I judged my responsibility to the Empire required that, and that responsibility was what I acted on. I did not think of the words of the truce, but if I had, I would not have considered my actions a raid or a battle.”
“And the second charge?”
This was harder. “Again, Emperor,” I said. “I knew Fritjof planned an invasion of the Empire; I believed you knew nothing of this threat or of these people. I acted as I did from concern for the Empire, and for our people, and,” I added, glancing at Lorcann, “indeed, not only for the Empire, but for Linrathe, too.”
“Acknowledged, Guardswoman,” the Emperor said. I could smell the tang of my armpits. Was that all? I glanced at Cillian. He watched Callan, his face impassive.
“Cillian na Perras,” Lorcann said. “What have you to say, to these charges?”
&nbs
p; “I admit to the theft of the boat, Teannasach,” Cillian said clearly, “but the murder of the fisherman was none of my doing. The Guardswoman had convinced me, and she was right, that we could travel faster in a boat than on foot or horseback. While the theft could be construed as a raid, it was in the greater good of Linrathe. And as to the second charge, Donnalch himself knew my plan, and approved it, knowing the risk to his life. Given that, Teannasach, there is no charge for me to answer.”
Was this true? And if so, why had Cillian not told me? Lorcann leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowed.
“Can anyone verify this tale,” he asked, “other than the Guardswoman, of course?”
“Of course not,” Cillian said, almost scornfully. “Donnalch would not have risked anyone else’s life by telling them. And whom would he have told? Ardan was dead by then, and that left only the Lady Dagney and the Guardswoman. You know our laws: a scáeli’s life is not to be risked, nor would the Teannasach have confided our plans to a hostage.”
“Guardswoman?” Lorcann turned his eyes to me. “Did you know this?”
I shook my head. “No,” I said. “I am hearing this for the first time.”
“Tell me, then, how you discovered Cillian planned to escape.”
I did not trust this man. But all I could do was tell the truth. “He told me,” I said.
Lorcann shot his eyes to Cillian. “That is true,” Cillian affirmed.
“Why?”
“Had I just disappeared, she—and the Lady Dagney—might have thought me dead, and attempted some rash action. Even though the Teannasach knew the truth, they would have little or no opportunity to speak to him privately. I thought it best the women knew.”
“Then why did you let the Guardswoman join you? Surely then the Lady Dagney would have thought you both dead. Your logic is at fault,” Lorcann said.
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