"I've never ridden a horse," I said.
Siglind looked shocked. "That is awful. Riding is one of the great pleasures of life. Do you not have horses where you live in Barbarica?"
"Something like that."
She shook her head. "There is much I want to know about your life, Larry."
"I'll tell you someday. Not now."
Siglind didn't object. She was happy to do the talking, and Palta and I were happy to listen. She talked incessantly about Gallia and its great soldiers, its glorious history. And she talked about her father, King Carolus, and what a great and wise ruler he was.
But after a while I began to get the sense that the reality didn't quite match up with her descriptions. Gallia might have been an important kingdom once upon a time, and King Harald's revolt might have been a big deal, but now it was just another province controlled by the priests. It seemed like her father didn't really have all that much power—he just did what the priests told him to do. And Gallia's soldiers might have been fierce warriors, but nowadays they didn't have anyone to fight; Siglind talked about them protecting the borders against invasion from Barbarica, but she admitted that those borders had been quiet since the Great Revolt. "When war comes, we will be ready!" she insisted.
But would there ever be another war? "Who is going to fight the priests, after the way they defeated King Harald?" I asked.
"The day will come," Siglind replied. "And on that day, we will crush our enemies beneath our feet."
It wasn't clear to me if she was talking about crushing the barbarians or the priests. I could feel the slight warmth of the gant in my pocket. Gallian soldiers could defeat barbarians, I thought; it would be a fair fight, at least. But the priests couldn't be defeated except by other people with gants. Or maybe by Affron. And now Affron was gone. If the Gallians wanted to avenge their defeat in the Great Revolt, they weren't going to do it with swords and spears.
For all her talk about the glory of Gallia, Siglind was also very pious when it came to Via. To her, Via was just the way in which the gods interacted with people on Terra. "I love the gods," she said. "They have done much good for Terra. We owe them everything. It is the priests I despise. I do not know why the gods continue to show them favor. Why can't they move Via to Gallia? We would do much better with it than the priests."
I looked at Palta, who shrugged and said nothing. There was no sense talking to Siglind about where we really came from, or what Via really was. She wouldn't believe us.
We stopped to eat lunch at one point. I noticed the servants staring at Palta and me, but they didn't speak to us. I wondered what kind of story Siglind would make up to explain why we had left Roma hiding in chests.
At any rate, most of the conversation was in Siglind's language, which they called Gallic. I remembered Affron telling me that Gallia was the same as France in my world, more or less. I had been taking French in school, but I couldn't follow any of what these people were saying. I was pretty proud of how much Latin I had picked up on Terra, but I thought that learning yet another language might be beyond me.
Eventually we got back in the carriage and headed north again. "How long will it take till we reach Gallia?" Palta asked.
"Ah, far too long," Siglind replied. "Seven days, if the weather is good. And then two more days till we reach the royal castle."
When the sun went down, we camped by the side of the road. Women servants made a fire and cooked food; the men set up a tent for Siglind and Lafreia, but we all ate together under the stars. The food tasted wonderful, and the cool, clear air felt great after the city and the long ride. "At last I can breathe!" Siglind said.
The soldiers set up sentries, and a servant gave us each a thin blanket. Palta and I lay down away from everyone else. The stars were miraculously bright, and I felt pretty good, despite my injuries.
"This is not so bad," Palta murmured.
"No," I agreed. But we were still in danger. And what would happen when we got to Gallia? Siglind had mentioned helping us go home to Barbarica. But there was no home for us there. There was no home for us anywhere in this world.
We went to sleep finally, and at dawn ate breakfast with the others. Then we climbed into the carriage with Siglind and Lafreia, and the journey continued.
The weather got a little cooler as we continued north. Siglind became less chatty as she ran out of things to say. In Carmody's world I had gotten used to how long journeys took in a wagon or on foot, of course, but there I had only traveled from Glanbury to Boston; now we were going much further. The road was occasionally busy as it went past a village or small town, but mostly we had it to ourselves, traveling mile after mile through empty countryside.
On the fifth day we headed up into mountains; I had never seen anything so spectacular. The servants unpacked heavy cloaks and handed them out to everyone. Before dark we stopped at a large inn and took over most of it. Palta and I slept in a long, narrow room with all the servants. There was one small smoky fireplace that failed to keep us warm; I shivered all night. In the morning I was happy to be on the road again, with the sunlight to warm us and the scenery to entertain us. "It will not be long," Siglind said as the carriage climbed ever higher into the mountains. "I cannot wait."
Another day in the mountains, through a pass, and then the rode took a long, winding path down on the other side. Another day's journey through farmlands and forest, and finally across a bridge that spanned a wide river.
"Home!" Siglind shouted when we reached the other side. The carriage stopped. She hugged Lafreia, Palta, and me. And then she got out, knelt down, and kissed the earth of Gallia.
PART IV
Gallia
Chapter 19
The journey continued, but everyone seemed happier now that we were in Gallia; even Lafreia smiled once or twice. The landscape was much the same—fields and forests, isolated farmhouses, an occasional small town in the distance—but the people we passed were dressed differently: the men usually wore loose pants, and their hair was long; women often had their hair in braids like Siglind's, and their robes were far more colorful than those that Roman women wore.
And people recognized our carriage, with the lion crests on its doors. Many stopped what they were doing and knelt as we passed. Siglind approved. "They love us," she said. "My father is a great man."
Now that we were in Gallia, Siglind's conversation became more personal. For the first time she told us that she had an older brother, Feslund, who was heir to her father's throne. Feslund didn't take her seriously enough because she was a woman, and she deeply resented that. She loved her mother, Queen Gretyx, but she thought Gretyx took too much interest in Feslund and not enough in her—the queen just wanted Siglind to behave better so that she could be married off to someone suitable. I got the sense that Siglind had no use for anyone who had a claim on her father's affections. She didn't want to get married, since it meant that she would be parted from the king. But sometimes she talked as if she couldn't wait to have a husband, so she would no longer be treated like a child and ignored by the important people.
I also got the sense sometimes that she had forgotten the problem Palta and I were presenting the king. She had convinced herself that her father would be delighted with her—and us—for bringing one of the priests' weapons to him. "We will give him the greatest weapon that Terra has ever seen," she said.
"But Venerix said—" I began to reply.
"Oh, Venerix worries too much," she said. "My father will make great use of this weapon. You'll see."
That seemed unlikely to me. If I understood the situation in Gallia correctly, Venerix was right to be worried: we, and the gant, were a danger to the province, and if the king had any brains he would realize this.
It occurred to me how difficult it was to always be judging people, especially from worlds so different from my own. Siglind seemed smart sometimes, and then she seemed awfully naïve. She was nice to us, but how could I be sure she really meant it? Lieutenant Carmod
y had seemed nice back when Kevin and I were in his world, and then he had plotted to keep us from ever returning home. It wasn't that he was evil; he was just thinking about more than my happiness—his career, the war his country was fighting, its success after the war. We really couldn't rely on anyone.
I talked about this with Palta, on our last night on the road. "On Gaia, we trusted other members of our tribe," she said. "And even they would let us down sometimes. In the end there is no one but yourself."
That seemed like an awful way to live.
The next day we saw vineyards and orchards, and shepherds tending flocks of sheep on the slopes of the green hills. We crossed lots of small streams, and then the road went through a big city. People weren't kneeling there, but many waved and cheered as we passed. Siglind was practically jumping out of her skin. "Lugdunum!" she exclaimed. "Our capital!"
We passed quickly through Lugdunum—it was far smaller than Roma—and out into open land once more. On a hill in the distance we saw a castle surrounded by high walls. I had never seen a real castle before.
And then the carriage came to a stop. "What is happening?" Siglind demanded. She leaned out the window and yelled at the driver. "Go on! Faster!"
But the driver didn't respond, and the carriage didn't move. We all got out. Up ahead, a rider was talking to the soldiers guarding us. When he saw Siglind, he rode past them and up to her.
He got off his horse. He was tall and bearded, with long brown hair; he wore a blue cape over a white robe. Like Siglind, he wasn't particularly good-looking, but he seemed self-assured and graceful. Feslund, I thought.
He looked at Palta and me, and then said something in Gallic to Siglind.
Immediately they started arguing, gesturing at us and the sky and the distant walled town. I thought they might start hitting each other. Lafreia tried to restrain Siglind, holding her from behind and muttering in her ear. Eventually Siglind burst into tears; Feslund didn't seem moved. Finally he turned back to Palta and me. "You will come with me," he said to us in Latin.
"You cannot do this!" Siglind shouted to him.
Feslund ignored her. "You will come now," he said.
"Oh my friends, it will be all right!" Siglind said to us. "I will talk to my father and explain. We will not let you down."
"What's going on?" I asked her.
"Venerix sent a messenger ahead of us to warn my father about you. Venerix is not so good a friend as I thought. My father orders that you be kept outside the castle until he decides what to do with you. In the meantime, no one is to see or speak to you. It is not right! You should be honored! They should hold a feast for you!"
"Where are we going?" Palta asked.
"A house in the countryside—it will be very nice, I suppose. I will see to that. But it won't be where you belong."
"Come," Feslund said to us. "You will take horses from these soldiers and follow me."
"We can't ride," I replied.
He looked like he didn't believe me, and then he shrugged. "Very well. We'll take a wagon."
"Thank you for all you've done for us," I said to Siglind.
"Oh, my friends," she said again, and she hugged us both. "All will be well," she insisted. "I just need to talk to my father."
Feslund ordered the servants out of their wagon. They didn't look happy about it. We got into the wagon and headed off behind Feslund and one of the soldiers.
"We should have expected this," Palta said to me in English.
"Maybe. But we couldn't have done anything else."
"When Feslund was talking to Siglind, he called us danger to Gallia. A danger. He told Siglind she was a fool to bring us here."
"You understood what he was saying?" I asked.
Palta shrugged. "I've heard enough Gallic by now," she said. "It's not hard to follow, if you know Latin."
I shook my head in astonishment. "Did he say what they were going to do to us?"
"Their father is off hunting. We need to be kept out of sight until Carolus gets back and can make up his mind."
"Does Feslund know about the gant?"
"He didn't say anything about it to Siglind. But wouldn't Venerix have brought it up in the message he sent?"
We fell silent and pondered what was going to happen to us.
Feslund led us onto a path off the main road, through a small village, to a small stone house within sight of the castle. Chickens scrambled out of our way as we rode up to it. A donkey stared curiously at us in the front yard. An old man and woman bustled of the house and bowed deeply to Feslund. We got out of the wagon and followed them inside. The house was darker and not as open as the Roman houses I'd been in; it felt closer to the houses in Carmody's world—a big kitchen with an open hearth and a fire always burning; no atrium, no peristyle. It smelled earthy; it made me want to sneeze.
Feslund gave orders in Gallic to the couple and the soldier who had accompanied us. Then he gestured to Palta and me to follow him back outside. "You will stay in this place," he said in Latin. "I will send another guard—this fellow is no good. Do not speak to anyone. Do not go anywhere. The old couple here will take care of you, but I have ordered them not to speak to you any more than is necessary. And do not try to escape—you will not succeed. Understood?"
We nodded.
"And the weapon—give me the weapon."
Palta and I looked at each other. So Venerix had mentioned the gant in his message. "What should I do?" I asked Palta in English.
"I don't know," she replied.
"None of your foreign speech," Feslund said in Latin. "Give me the weapon now."
I slowly took the gant out of my pocket and aimed it at Feslund. "No," I said. "First we have to talk to your father."
Feslund stared at the gant, and then he laughed. "You are refusing me?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied. "You know what this weapon can do, I think. It is what killed King Harald and his army. Your sword is no match for it."
"You are a child," he pointed out. "I can run you through with my sword in an instant."
"This weapon would destroy you before you could get your sword out of its scabbard."
Finally he shrugged. "Try to escape if you like. You will fail, even with your weapon. Kill me, and you will have all of Gallia tracking you down, in addition to the priests and the Roman army. Your capture will be swift, and your deaths will be unpleasant."
"We don't want to escape," I replied. "We just want to talk to King Carolus."
"Why?" Feslund asked.
"Just tell him. He owes it to us—I saved your sister's life."
"Yes, she made that point to me several times." Feslund shrugged again. "Very well. But you cannot speak to him now—he's hunting, which he likes to do much more than he likes ruling this country. Keep your weapon. I will give him your message."
Ignoring the gant that I was still pointing at him, he mounted his horse and rode away.
"What are you doing?" Palta asked in English. "What happens when we talk to the king?"
"I don't know," I said. "But we can't give up the gant. It's all we have. And if we don't talk to King Carolus, maybe he'll just decide to send us back to Urbis, no matter how much Siglind begs him not to."
"But how will we change his mind? Do we just ask for his mercy?"
"I don't know," I responded. "It depends on what he's like, I guess."
"Maybe we'd be better off if we killed the guard and escaped."
I shuddered at how casually we could talk about killing someone. "Where would we go once we escaped?" I replied. "Barbarica? We have no idea where that is. Feslund is right. The gant isn't going to be enough to keep us safe. How long does one last before it runs out of power, anyway?"
She shrugged. "I have no idea. I did not see one often on Gaia—they were too valuable. When they are used up, the blue glow disappears."
I took a quick look at the gant. It was still glowing—but was the glow dimmer than when I had first seen it back in Urbis? I couldn't tell. Was
there a way to turn it off to save the battery or whatever? Didn't look like it. I put the gant back in my pocket. "Anyway, we can escape if we have to. I think we're better off trying to get the king on our side."
Palta nodded. "You're right," she said. "But I don't think it will be easy."
We went back inside. The old man and woman were standing in the big kitchen, looking frightened. The man was bald and bearded; he wore loose black pants and a dirty white tunic. The woman wore a long skirt, and her white hair was covered with a scarf. Palta spoke to them in Gallic, and they began to relax. The woman started to bustle around the kitchen; the man showed us to a small room with a couple of narrow beds jammed into it. The mattresses looked thin and lumpy, but they would be an improvement over sleeping on the ground.
Later in the afternoon another soldier rode up to the house. He was tall and handsome, with a scraggly beard and long brown hair worn in a pony tail. He dismissed the other soldier and bowed to us. "My name is Arminius," he said in Latin. "I'll be staying here with you."
"You'll be guarding us, you mean," Palta replied.
Arminius shrugged. "I don't expect anyone will harm you. And I don't expect you will harm anyone. So really, I'm just here to keep you company. What's for dinner? Do I smell roast chicken?"
I wondered if he knew about the gant. If he did, he didn't mention it. The old woman served us the chicken after a while, and we talked with Arminius as we sat at a small wooden table in the kitchen—no one seemed to have told him not to speak to us, or maybe he was just ignoring that order. I liked him a lot. It was hard to tell how much he knew about our situation, but he clearly was an old friend of Feslund's, and he understood the prince's strengths and weaknesses. "He is loyal to his friends and suspicious of foreigners. So he is suspicious of you."
"We don't mean him—or anyone—any harm," I said. "We just want to talk to the king."
"We will sort it all out soon enough," he replied. "This is Gallia. Emotions always run strong. People make mistakes and are forgiven."
That was encouraging—but it wasn't clear how it applied to Palta and me.
TERRA (The Portal Series, Book 2) Page 16
