Ascendant

by Florian Armas

  When their fever vanished and their hearts slowed down, they lay on their backs, Mara waiting for him to fell asleep. Codrin couldn’t, and he was moving restlessly, small movements, a foot, a hand, his head. He thought Mara was already sleeping, as she stayed still, waiting.

  He is like a child, Mara thought, slightly amused. Restless. Mihai acts the same when something is bothering him. He is only eight years old, but I am glad that Codrin will take care of my son. She turned slowly and placed her palm on Codrin’s chest. He stopped moving and, in a minute, fell asleep. I should leave... But instead of leaving, Mara leaned her head against his shoulder. It feels so good.

  In seven years of marriage, her only good nights were the ones when her husband left her alone. She was at least lucky that he did not visit her bed often. Even so, their nights together always started with a beating, and left her bloody and aching both outside and inside. Sometimes it took her weeks to fully recover and once, he was so violent that she was bedridden for more than two months.

  She woke up at midnight and, with a sigh, left Codrin alone, her fingers trailing on his arm.

  Before he left, Costa visited Codrin again in his office, and found him with Mara.

  “Did Cleyre ever visit Leyona?” Codrin asked.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Maybe her husband.”

  “She is not married. Cleyre is only nineteen years old.”

  “So young and she is part of the council,” Codrin said, raising an eyebrow, and that brought a wry smile to Mara’s lips; he was only one year older. “She must be intelligent.”

  “Yes,” Costa said and a hint of jealousy touched him. I must be stupid, he thought. Cleyre wants him, and most probably will have him. At least Peyris will be safe with them. If Cleyre is to become a Duchess, she needs a strong man like Codrin to protect her, and us. She deserves it more than that stupid Albert, even though he is the Duke’s son.

  “How did you know to come to Cleuny? I was away most of the time.”

  “She told me that I would find you here.” There were a few moments of silence, both Mara and Codrin fighting to hide their surprise, for different reasons though. “She is well informed,” Costa felt the need to add.

  “I realized that from her letter,” Codrin said. “This is for Cleyre,” he said, offering an envelope to Costa. “You should know that I appreciated her help. Five of my soldiers will escort you to Cleuny’s border.”

  Costa had three guards from Peyris with him, but he did not object to Codrin’s offer.

  “That’s strange,” Mara said after Costa left. “Peyris has probably the best Secretariat in Frankis, and I’m sure they have contacts everywhere, but there is no way they could learn about Leyona and Poenari and warn you in such a brief time. Even if they had learned it before you, from Leyona, the time still doesn’t add up. And there was no way to know that you would be in Cleuny now. I don’t understand.”

  Codrin’s fingers rasped the old wood of the table, and he avoided looking at her.

  “Tell me.”

  “Why do you think that I have something to tell?” he asked, a touch of amusement passing through his voice.

  “Seigneur Codrin,” she said, standing up, then went around the table, leaning on it, in front of him. “I may be just a poor woman working hard for your highness, but that doesn’t mean that you have to trick me. Don’t even try.” Her hand went through his hair, and shook his head gently. “Now tell me.”

  “Poor men, they have no chance of hiding anything from a woman.”

  “Men are anything but poor in this world. Feel free to trade your place with me, if you don’t believe what I said.” She shook his head again. “I would shake it harder, but I am still waiting for an answer.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “And now you are insulting my intelligence too.”

  “You are right, there was no way a courier could manage to arrive in Peyris and then Costa get here in such a short time. Cleyre knew when I would arrive here before I left Severin. Before I knew it. The only explanation is that a Wanderer was involved.”

  “That’s complicated,” Mara mused, and Codrin smiled thinly. “Don’t laugh at me. Are you sure that the Wanderers can...?” Her hand gestured loosely up, toward the sky.

  “Yes, they can have visions about the future, and one of them told Cleyre about Poenari and when I would arrive in Cleuny. In fact, this is the second warning I’ve received. The other one told me about Poenari, even before I learned about it being given to me. The letter came from Peyris too, brought by ... Costa, when he tried to capture me, but it was not sent by Cleyre.”

  “The same Wanderer hiding behind two ... women? That’s my guess,” Mara smiled. “It’s quite strange how many women are involved ... one way or another, in your life.”

  “Maybe because I am such a nice man. The first letter was from a Wanderer, but I don’t know if she was behind this letter too.”

  “Two Wanderers working for you.”

  “I would doubt that. It’s more that I may be part of their plans, though one of them I like to consider as my friend.”

  “I need to think,” Mara said, rubbing her forehead.

  “Mara,” Codrin took her other hand in his. “We need to agree on something.”

  “Please don’t start again with the marriage thing,” she said, her voice suddenly tense.

  “No,” Codrin sighed. “But it’s another thing that you will not like.”

  “Don’t you have anything pleasant for me? I am sorry, I should not have asked that. Not even as a joke. Sometimes my desire to look ... witty, goes too far. But it’s your fault.” She smiled guiltily, and her hand moved down his face until she touched his lips, and her thumb played there for a while.

  “That’s why I like you. You are my Secretary and the woman I trust. The letter from Cleyre, and this supposition about the Wanderers, should stay between us. I know it will be hard for you, but even Calin should not learn about this.” He leaned his head forward and kissed her palm.

  Mara smiled wryly, and it took her a while to answer. “Father is a better Secretary than me, and he may be able to help.”

  “You are as good as him. I don’t want to put Cleyre in danger. Whatever the motivation, she tried to help me. If you tell Calin, he may tell somebody else for a good trade of information, and it may be that another Wanderer will have a vision and....”

  “At least let me tell him about Maud being the Master Sage.”

  “In this, you are right. Tell him, but not how you have learned about it.”

  “What about those two thousand soldiers? I am,” she bit her upper lip, “afraid.” Involuntarily, she placed her right hand over her belly.

  “That’s my worry.” Codrin smiled and his hand covered hers, making Mara aware of her own gesture. “Besieged by a large army, Cleuny would fall fast. Everything depends on what we find in Poenari. Both Sava and Calin talk about a strong fortress. It may be partially damaged, but we have seven months to fix the weakest points. From the letter, it seems that there is no need for major works.”

  Chapter 12 – Jara

  The carriage bumped over a boulder and woke Jara up. Not that she was really sleeping; her week on the road had been a strange stream of daydreams; mostly old recollections from the past. It was her way to avoid looking into the future. One week on the road, and she was still not prepared to face Orban. She stared outside, followed by Vio’s inquisitive eyes. It’s afternoon, Jara thought. I still have a day to sort my mind out. Their journey from Severin to Arad had taken longer than she’d expected. Not that she wanted to complain. Is Doren trying to shield me? Her hand caressed Mark’s hair; he was sleeping, his head in her lap. Still too young to fully understand what had happened, Mark was the only one finding pleasure in their journey; it was his first time out of Severin, and he was voicing his joy at each new thing, his cries sending cold shivers down Jara’s spine. Sometimes, he rode on Cernat’s horse, and that always make hi
m sleepy.

  As if reading her mind, Doren, the Spatar of Arad, lowered himself in the saddle and knocked in the window. “We will stop at that inn,” he said, pointing somewhere down the valley.

  “Thank you, Doren,” Jara managed to say, and closed the window, returning to her daydreams. Even though she had lost Mohor only the week before, some of her dreams involved her first husband, Malin, who had died five years earlier, killed by Orban.

  At the inn, she ate her dinner absently, but when she tried to leave the room, Doren gestured discreetly for her to stay.

  “Take Mark and go upstairs,” she told Vio, gently squeezing her hand under the table. “Yes, Doren,” she said, when they were alone with Cernat.

  Doren glanced at her, a touch of hesitation in his eyes. Three pairs of eyes flicking back and forth from one person around the table to another.

  “I think that I have to thank you for this week on the road,” she said. They should have arrived in Arad two days ago, but Doren always stopped the caravan early in the evening, and always at an inn, and started it late in the morning.

  “There were issues related to your safety,” he said, the tone in his voice contradicting his statement. “I wanted to tell you something.” He stopped for a while, in search of words. “I did not agree with what happened in Severin. Neither to Mohor, nor to you and Vio.”

  Jara tried to answer, but her lips refused to open and she just nodded.

  “Maybe you have not changed much from your time in Midia,” Cernat said, remembering that Doren had spent almost a year in their old city, which was conquered by Orban five years earlier.

  “They were good times,” Doren said, evasively. “I have this letter from Cantemir.” He pushed an envelope across the table.

  Her face changed suddenly at the name, and there was an increased intensity in the line of her mouth. “Cantemir,” Jara spat the word; his name was a threatening reminder of her precarious position. “He must be happy about all this. He and Orban.”

  “He told me that you would react like this,” Doren said, his voice calm, almost gentle. “But he was not involved. Please read it.”

  She sighed and, not willing to upset Doren, opened the letter.

  ‘Jara,’ she read.

  ‘The only reason I wrote this is that I may not be in Arad at the time of your arrival. Whatever you think about me, I am not your enemy, and neither is Doren. We both knew you and Malin from the time spent in Midia. In my absence, my cousin, Herlo, will take care of you until my return. Please cooperate with them both.

  PS: I was not involved in what happened in Severin, as Orban kept me out of the loop. Without Doren I would not have known at all.’

  “Cantemir reminded me that both of you stayed for a while in Midia,” she said, questioningly.

  “It’s where I met my wife.” Doren smiled thinly and, for a while, his eyes were lost in the room. Even more, young Vali was part of Jara’s entourage at that time. “I lost her last year.”

  “I am sorry; I still remember Vali, she was close to my age.”

  “We have some things in common, mostly what we have lost. I don’t know how much I can help you but, at least, I will try.”

  “Thank you, Doren, but I am still uncomfortable with Cantemir.”

  “From your voice, that was a ... mild way of saying it. Talk with him first, before deciding your next steps.”

  “I think that I don’t have much choice about avoiding him. Good night, Doren,” she said and stood up, then left the room.

  “Mother?” Vio asked, when Jara entered their bedroom. She jumped from chair, and in a blink of the eye, stood in front of Jara.

  “Everything is fine,” she said, embracing her daughter. “All the way along the road, I had the impression that Doren was trying to give me more time.”

  “We traveled slower than usual.”

  “You noticed it too?” Jara smiled.

  “Yes, we should have arrived two days ago in Arad, but I did not know if that was a good or a bad thing to tell you.”

  “You did not want to worry me.” She embraced Vio tighter. “I think that, next time, it would be better to worry me.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  ***

  Cantemir’s assumption of absence was wrong, and he greeted Jara on her arrival. Their first exchange was both cold and short, yet the coldness came from Jara; Cantemir looked like a man trying to handle a hot potato. They followed him inside Orban’s palace, up to the point where a large corridor diverged.

  “Sir Cernat,” Cantemir said. “Please follow Herlo to your suite. Jara and Vio will be hosted in a different place. We will meet again at lunch. We need to talk.”

  There was a touch of panic in Jara’s eyes when she looked at her father, but it passed fast, and they both nodded. They walked further until they arrived in front of a double door, made of dark red wood and sculpted with floral motifs. Seeing Cantemir, the two guards opened the door to let them pass.

  “There is nothing unusual about to the guards,” Cantemir informed Jara. “They are here all the time.”

  She glanced around at the large antechamber, from which four more doors were opened. Closing her eyes, she ventured into the past, her single visit to Arad. She was still not married at that time, and it was her worse visit ever, as Orban saw her and, three months later, shortly after his first wife died, he asked for her hand. “This is Orban’s suite.”

  “This is the S’Arad suite. That door,” he pointed to the one in front, “leads to Orban’s suite. The one on the left is ... yours. For a while, Vio will stay with you. All the suites have their own antechamber, bedroom and utility rooms.”

  Jara had the sudden impulse to ask about Orban’s presence, but she stopped herself at the last moment.

  “Take your time, and make yourself comfortable. Two bathtubs are waiting for you. In one and a half hours, I will come here with Cernat. Lunch will be served in that room,” he pointed to the last door on the right.

  Lunch went on in almost silence, only some banal exchanges passing between them, even though Cantemir tried to animate it, in the beginning. He failed and resigned himself to the same almost silent behavior.

  “Now, we have no choice but to talk,” Cantemir said, after all the servants left the room, and Mark was already sleeping in Jara’s bed, watched by a maid.

  At Jara’s nod, Vio stood up, ready to leave.

  “Please stay,” Cantemir stopped her.

  “Are you trying to stop me talking about the past?” Jara asked coldly, yet she nodded to Vio, who seated herself again.

  “Maybe,” Cantemir smiled thinly. “We have important things to discuss that Vio may need to hear. She is no longer a child, and ... navigating through Orban’s court is not easy. Let’s start with the past; it may help us to arrive at some conclusions. Did you read my letter?”

  “It changed nothing,” Jara shrugged. “We never tried to hurt you, while you always planned to ruin us. Malin blocked your marriage, but it was a political thing, as she was betrothed for three years already, and you knew that when you arrived in Midia. That did not stop you from courting her in secret, and we did not know until two weeks before her wedding was planned. Cancelling the marriage contract would have meant a political crisis, and no one expected what happened to Lynda. Her suicide affected all of us, and weakened us too. In fact, our problems started that day. We tried to come to an understanding with you, but you just left to join our enemy, to plan these two ... murders, even though Mohor had done nothing wrong to you. How much you must have hated us. Are you satisfied now? Will this stop your thirst for revenge?”

  “Jara,” Cernat said gently, as her voice became louder. He had chosen to stay behind, as a last line of defense. This was mostly between Jara and Cantemir, as they were friends once. His fine political sense told him that once a certain threshold was passed, a new reality could be born, one that could help Jara survive.

  “It’s good that she spoke,” Cantemir said, his voi
ce restrained, and only his fingers, playing with an inch-wide button on his jacket, betraying his inner tension. The dark red wooden button contrasted with his pale hand. “I could not remain in Midia, it was too difficult for me. I went to Arad only because I had a relative here who was the third secretary.”

  “Was Lydia pregnant?” Jara asked coldly.

  “No,” Cantemir breathed. “We did not... You are right that I had my share of guilt. We wanted to run, but ... I think that Malin sensed something and put more guards...”

  “Lynda was his sister, and we both considered you a friend.”

  “I know,” Cantemir said meekly, and bit his lip. “And I loved Lynda too.”

  “In the letter,” Cernat said, feeling that it was the right moment for a turning point, “you mentioned that you want to help us. Why?”

  “Let’s finish with the past,” Cantemir, now fully recovered, said. “The war between Orban and Malin started before my tenure as Secretary of Arad. It was an intermittent thing during the years, yet you still find me guilty because of the last battle.”

  “You played an important role in that battle,” Jara said, trying hard to control her voice.

  “We were Secretaries of the courts we represented. We were on opposite sides, and we both tried to win, but Malin’s death was just an unfortunate incident.” Cantemir glanced briefly at Vio, thinking that he may have hurt her, but her face was composed. I need her to be present too. “It was not something I planned. The same could have happened to Orban or to his son. Battles are unpredictable and can’t be fully controlled.”

  “Where is Orban?” Jara asked abruptly.

  “I advised him to give you some time to settle in. He will return in two days. It may look strange to you, but he, in his weird way, cares about you. I also advised him about ... marriage.”

  Jara took a deep breath, and exhaled. Everything repeated three times. I must be calm. Whatever my shock, I have to think. Marriage would help me protect Vio and Mark, but it will make it harder to break the link with Orban. If I fall pregnant again... Pregnancy would not necessarily be related to marriage. Mistresses fall pregnant too. She stared around, and realized that everyone was waiting for her to speak, yet she could not. I have to speak. She closed her eyes, and separated herself from the world around her. Marriage, she sighed after a while. Let it be. As if I have a choice. “Why?” She stared at Cantemir. “Do you want to absolve Orban? Or do you want to absolve yourself?”