“There are many changes facing Bargia of late. I do not see any difficulties in your family that would bring you to me, so I must assume it is these changes that have prompted you to seek me out.” She observed him through the steam over her teacup as she waited.
Sinnath cleared his throat, glanced at her and lowered his eyes again. “Yes.” He groped for words. “Bargia has succeeded thus far, I believe, in large part due to the traditions we have honoured. Circumstances have brought these traditions into serious peril. I need to know whether the breaking of them will lead to the downfall of the demesne and of the ruling house.” He let out his breath again and leaned back into the chair, apparently relieved.
“I see. Do you merely wish to know the future? Or are you asking if different paths may lead to different outcomes? You must ask specific questions before I consult Earth. Only one question at a time, but I will need them all before I start. A misleading line of questions will lead to confusing answers.”
Messalia waited again, observing Sinnath closely. He knotted his hands again and cleared his throat twice more before continuing. Messalia smiled inwardly. It amused her to see powerful men squirm. They took their power for granted, while she had had to work so hard for hers. So many came to her as Sinnath did now, unknown to each other, but all known to her. If they even guessed at the webs she wove with the knowledge they inadvertently supplied, they would see to it that she met a swift end.
Messalia let Sinnath lead where he wanted to go. She could see no personal stake in the outcome. Her position was secure. But she enjoyed intrigue, and it amused her to see where men’s minds led them. This new twist might prove very interesting.
As always, she made sure that her predictions could not be held to close scrutiny.
~23~
TREASON
In the end, Sinnath left Messalia’s house no more confident. However, he had become even more entrenched in his line of thinking. There are times when the way someone speaks about a thing affects the way others receive it. Sinnath could not hide his misgivings about Gaelen’s decision to join with Marja. His opinion carried considerable weight. So the responses he received to his inquiries tended to support what he wanted to hear, both from Messalia and from others.
The more Sinnath tried to get a sense of the mood of the people of Bargia, the surer he became that Gaelen had erred gravely in joining with Marja. And the more confident he became, the more his bias showed. It became a self-fulfilling prophecy. Sinnath reached the painful conclusion that Marja must be removed. He crossed the line.
Even before his meeting with Messalia, Sinnath had secretly contacted a man, who knew a man, who could be counted on to do certain things for a fee. Sinnath’s plan required speed and must be carried out before Gaelen returned to Bargia. Sinnath had arrangements to meet with this Rellin that very morning, before first light. Until now, Sinnath had left himself the option of backing out. This meeting would commit him to his course of action.
Instead of going home to his wife, Sinnath made another visit, still under cover of darkness. After he left Messalia, he sent a street urchin with a message to Rellin to confirm their meeting. Then, keeping to the shadows, he made his way to a small but well-kept stone house in the merchants’ quarter, discreetly set back among similar ones. Its outer wall had a narrow iron gate. A small private courtyard garden sat in the back.
This was Sinnath’s home away from home, where he kept his mistress, Kerissa, along with their seven-year-old son. In return for a comfortable life, support and tutelage for their son, she played hostess to Sinnath’s night time visitors and kept quiet about what took place there. Until now, Sinnath had given her no reasons to worry about these clandestine meetings. They had served Bargia and its ruling family loyally. Tonight would be different.
“I expect company this night. Get dressed,” Sinnath told her when she came to the door. “He goes by Rellin. Show him into my meeting room as soon as he arrives. Leave the lamp covered when you answer the door. He wishes to remain unknown.” When he saw the worried question in her eyes he told her, “There is nothing to fear.”
When she showed Rellin in, Sinnath had Kerissa bring wine, cold fowl, bread and sweets, then told her to go to bed as he would not need her again.
“I will see the man out,” Sinnath told her. He had noticed Rellin leering at Kerrissa and her look of fear as she hurried out of the room. Sinnath heard her check in on their son, Merist, on her way to bed.
Rellin left about a half span later. Once he had disappeared, Sinnath waited a few moments and slipped out himself unnoticed.
He had given Rellin a small sack of coin and hoped, not for the first time, that he had not made a grave mistake. Rellin had placed the sack in his breeches and grinned knowingly at Sinnath as he made it jingle. Sinnath also could not forget the leer on Rellin’s face when Kerrissa had shown him in and how he licked his lips when she had hurried out of the room. He would have to see to it that further meetings took place away from this house.
~24~
THE CITY
Marja’s heart ached as she toured the city with Brensa and Nellis. The fires had left so much damage. The two oily black spots on the cobblestones where the pyres had burned made her shudder with revulsion, but she forced herself to take it all in.
Yet, pride buoyed her spirits at the way her people had rallied, making the best of things. She saw repairs underway all over the city. Businesses offered their wares, even while roofs and windows underwent repairs. Her people showed determination and purpose. Their spirit had not been defeated, even if their lord had been.
Everywhere, citizens greeted Marja with deference, pleasure and pride. They extended the optimism generated by Gaelen’s amnesty to her new status as lady. Most spoke to her of new beginnings rather than of anger or loss. Marja could see them brighten when she showed them she had the freedom to speak with them. She hoped her words and presence reassured them.
“Lady, are you well?”
“You see, we have reopened the shop. We have bread again.”
“He has truly joined with you?”
The last was impertinent, and the guards made to interrupt, but Marja stopped them with a gesture and answered, “He has, indeed. I am again your lady. I have faith he may be trusted. You may tell the people that for me.”
At her last words she saw the guards relax. Perhaps they could finally grasp that she, too, could be trusted. She hoped they would spread the word to the other Bargians. It might help them accept a Catanian lady.
“That is good, my lady.” The concern in the man’s face gave way to relief, which she saw mirrored in the faces of the others who had stopped their work to gather around her.
Her guards had difficulty staying near enough to protect her. People pressed close to speak with her, and many wished to touch her. Marja did not miss the fact that Klast hovered near in his “I am not here” guise. She could tell that he knew she was aware of him, from the tiny nod of recognition he had given her. What an insufferable man. How could Gaelen show such complete trust in him? She must challenge him again on that when she got the chance.
~25~
GOOD-BYES
Two mornings later, the party, carefully chosen by Gaelen and Argost, left for Bargia. Argost, of course, stayed behind to govern Catania. For the present, the demesne appeared stable and recovering. The bulk of the armed men remained behind with Argost. In two eightdays’ time, if things continued according to plan, two more companies would follow Gaelen home to Bargia.
Marja mounted her mare in front of the stables across from the castle and took a last look at her home, willing the images into her memory. Earth only knew when she would see it again. The square had been cleared of debris, and only the two scorched circles, one for each people, still bore mute witness to the pyres that had turned so many to ashes and bones. Eventually, the rains would erase even this reminder.
Repairs had proceeded apace, and the other reminders of the battle ha
d dwindled. Most homes and shops bore at least temporary roofs. Windows either gleamed with new glass or were covered with oiled leather that could be lifted to admit more daylight. Most shops had reopened, with the exception of a few too badly damaged or whose owners had been killed. Business as usual seemed the order of the day, albeit somewhat subdued. Small groups of soldiers patrolled the streets, but the people ignored them, seemingly by tacit agreement. The air no longer held the aura of fear or suspicion.
Marja’s eyes lingered on a large two-level building nestled between the stables and the castle that had mercifully escaped major damage. It housed many of the stable hands, gardeners and their families, most of whom had returned. Nellis had told her that Argost had found two small rooms there for her and Mikost, as their previous ones still remained uninhabitable. Though she would miss Nellis sorely, Marja felt grateful that she and Mikost would live among friends, and that Nellis would receive the care she needed. Nellis was very near her time now and needed a place to prepare for the child. Marja had bid her a tearful farewell earlier. Nellis had declined to see her off, saying she could not bear it. Marja had fought back her own tears watching Brensa weep quietly as she took her final leave from Nellis.
Marja had learned from Gaelen that he and Argost deemed Mikost trustworthy and well enough recovered for a position in the stables again. His more important duty would be to bring to Argost all he learned from people coming and going.
Marja saw the efficiency and sound judgment with which Argost took charge and felt a growing gratitude for Gaelen’s choice of governor. Catania could depend on steady, fair-minded leadership. It made leaving easier.
She let her gaze roam further out.
The city of Catania itself was the oldest on the One Isle, smaller than those built later and more densely packed inside its protecting wall. Unlike other cities, which tended to form a square grid of streets, Catania City lay in the shape of a spoked wheel, with one narrow street forming a circle midway from the centre hub, intersecting the spokes, and another most of the way out, close to the wall. Some shops and the homes of wealthier merchants and guildsmen nestled close to the castle. Most of these homes had their own walled yard, the front of which framed the entrance to the house. Inside the walls, in rear courtyards, owners grew small gardens; herbs, some vegetables and flowers and usually a tree for shade if the yard had enough space. Here and there, close to homes and shops, where fire had not done too much damage, new spring green peeked out amid the spaces between the stones and in beds around buildings. Trees showed the first haze of pale green, full of promise. What did the gardens in Bargia look like, Marja wondered?
Further from the central area the buildings became smaller and poorer, as befitted the status and wealth of their inhabitants. Areas on the outskirts intermittently showed swaths blackened by fire and larger areas that remained untouched, indicated where fighting had been lighter. Marja saw again, with pride, the resilience and strength of her people. So much had been done in such a short time. Everywhere, people worked on repairs and clean-up. Even young children helped where they could, carrying wood, fetching tools and holding pieces of oiled leather in place while parents nailed them over windows. Most wore soot and grime as testimony to their labours. She watched a moment as a father directed his young son.
“That is right, Visk. Hold it even at the top so I can drive in the pegs. Good.” He withdrew his hands from the new window covering. “See how straight it hangs? Now hold this one for me. Then we will work on the door.” Visk beamed at his father’s praise, chest out, full of self-importance.
Marja noted that the armed troops had evolved into a cooperative unit with the people. They showed none of the bristling arrogance of conquerors. Instead, many could be seen working alongside citizens, especially in areas where repairs required strong bodies. It appeared Gaelen’s strategy was bearing fruit.
Just as Gaelen lifted his hand to give the order to ride, Marja spied Cook running out. She tearfully pressed a cloth bundle into Marja’s hands. The honey cakes were still warm.
“Oh, lady, we will miss you. Please stay safe.”
Marja throat closed with emotion, and she squeezed Cook’s hands in silent farewell. She would miss Cook most of all. Then, as stubborn tears forced silent tracks down her cheeks, she turned resolutely away and followed Gaelen out the gate.
As they rode out, many citizens stopped to watch, hand on chest in obeisance, or hat in front, faces solemn.
Marja looked over their retinue. Gaelen had explained he would take only twenty soldiers with him. The group also included Klast and two other spies, to serve as eyes and ears, and as bodyguards for Gaelen and the two women.
Marja and Brensa both rode well-mannered mares. Marja sat her own beloved Keisha, a dappled grey, and Brensa, her small pied. Only one narrow wagon, pulled by a sturdy gelding, accompanied the party. All their food supplies, two small tents and the women’s meagre belongings rode on its narrow bed between two waist-high side planks. The forest trails were too tight for anything wider. No space for gowns. But, thought Marja with some sadness, those had been destroyed or burned anyway.
Marja agreed with Gaelen’s choice of Northgate to leave by. It was the largest and gave the clearest view all the way from the square, allowing as many as possible to watch them leave. It also gave the widest access to the route they would take to Bargia, although not the most direct. Gaelen had deemed it important that people see him riding out in state, a symbol of his status as their new lord. It also provided an opportunity for Catanians to see the respect Marja received as his lady. A double message. So, hoping no one could see her tears, Marja held her head erect and her shoulders back. She waved at the people she passed. Would she ever see any of them again? She tried without success to swallow the lump in her throat.
~26~
AWAY
In the distant past, the walled city of Catania had lain closer to the centre of the demesne, but previous invasions had wrested much of the area to the south away. Now it lay only a short distance from the southern border. Northgate retained its status as official entry to the city even though it faced away from the direction of most incoming traffic. It opened onto the widest road and continued north only a short distance before it curved sharply to the east and forked to the south.
The interior consisted of mostly low rolling hills ideal for growing crops and grazing sheep or cattle. As far as the eye could see, small steadings raised plumes of smoke from hearth fires. Here and there, orchards showed branches blushing with the promise of spring green.
The party took the southern fork in the direction of Bargia. Within only a span, the edge of the forest in which the Bargians had hidden the night before the invasion came into view. The road narrowed as it entered between the trees. The sun had grown hot as they had ridden out, so they welcomed the relative coolness of the forest canopy over their heads, even though the trees had not yet leafed out. Once within the woods, Marja could no longer keep her home in sight.
The trees at the edge consisted mostly of oak, sycamore and beech. As they progressed further, these gave way to tall conifers, whose needles muffled the sounds of the horses’ hooves and swallowed the creak of the wagon. This had an almost hypnotic effect on the riders, and they conducted the little conversation that was necessary in soft murmurs. Both Marja and Brensa drank in as much of the scenery as they could store in their memories, against the times of homesickness ahead.
Marja noticed that only Gaelen and the three spies remained completely alert, not allowing the peace of the forest to lull them into inattention. Gaelen had told her that ambush was not only possible but expected. He had sent scouts ahead to check for sites where the party might be vulnerable, and they reported back with two likely locations. The largest and least defensible lay a day’s ride ahead. Another lay close to the border of Bargia four days ride hence. The scouts gave detailed descriptions of the land and its features. Marja listened intently while Gaelen briefed his men
and admired the ease with which he took command. He is a natural leader, she thought.
Marja had spied Klast before they left Catania and tried to keep track of where he was, as she still did not trust him in spite of Gaelen’s assurances. But Klast blended so well, she could not keep him in sight. Often, he took off ahead, disappearing into the forest, only to show up, ghost-like, beside or behind them. At Gaelen’s orders, one of the two remaining bodyguards stayed close to the women at all times. The women rode in the centre of the party. Gaelen told her he was taking no chances with their safety.
Both women were accomplished riders, so they made good progress.
They stopped at noon a short way into the forest for a quick meal of bread, meat, cheese, and ale, stretched their legs and remounted. By early evening the forest thinned out again to deciduous trees and scrub, which eventually opened into a large clearing by the bank of a shallow river. They set up camp there and erected the two tents near the central fire, the larger for Gaelen and Marja and the smaller next to it for Brensa. Some discussion ensued as to whether Brensa should share Marja’s tent, rather than Gaelen, but Gaelen decided that Marja would be safer if it were known she was with him. Brensa made a less likely target. Marja heard some of the men snicker about that decision and make some off-colour jokes, which Gaelen bore with good humour.
The remaining men unrolled their blankets in a protective circle around the tents. They hobbled the horses nearby and set two guards to watch them. Two other soldiers stayed awake in shifts to guard the camp. Each shift included one of the spies. Marja noticed that Klast took first shift, positioning himself close to the tents. This made Marja uncomfortable, though she held her peace.
The camp fire made a hot meal possible. Marja felt a pang of homesickness when she discovered that Cook had sent a large pot of stew along, which everyone wolfed down along with the last of the fresh bread. Their next dinners would be poorer fare made from dried meats, beans and root vegetables. Journey bread, gruel, hard cheese and jerked meat would have to do for the rest of their meals until they reached Bargia.
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