Empire's Reckoning

by Marian L Thorpe

  “It will do nicely,” I told the man, closing and locking the hall door. I heard noises in the hall, voices, doors opening and closing. I waited. When there was only silence outside, I opened the interior door.

  My brother spun at the sound. He had removed his heavy tunic and boots, and stood in his breeches and light shirt, his feet bare. “Will you share a cup of wine with me, Roghan?” I asked. “In memory of our father?”

  “Sorley,” he said, and then, “brother,” before we moved into a long, hard embrace. I kissed his temple, and then his lips. “He even looks like you,” he said, when he could find words.

  “Your son?”

  “Who else?”

  “Who is his mother?” I poured the wine, handed Roghan a cup. He told me. I flushed. “That match was proposed for me,” I said.

  “I know. But you were still at the Ti’ach, and her father wanted her wed. I liked her, and I didn’t think you’d mind.”

  “I don’t,” I said. “Your son is heir, Roghan, as I said. I will father no children.”

  “I — ” He hesitated. “I have long thought that.” He took a drink. “You are still my brother.” Brave words, from a man of Sorham. “Are you happy?” he asked.

  “I have what I want,” I said carefully. “I was made scáeli only a week ago. I have good friends, and work to do that matters.”

  “Don’t you miss Gundarstorp?”

  “Yes. But I chose, Roghan. I cannot come home.”

  “You could, one day, if we are successful in our proposal to the Teannasach.”

  I gestured him to silence. “Follow me,” I whispered, and went back to my own room. I took paper and pen from my pack and wrote quickly. ‘We may be being listened to. Say nothing of your proposal.” He looked surprised, but nodded. I threw the paper into the fire.

  “The danta,” he said. “You wrote it? Was it all true?”

  “Yes, to both questions. Do you remember Cillian?”

  “Yes. We went hawking. I liked his horse.” I smiled. He had been only thirteen. I hadn’t had eyes for the horse that day. But I thought Roghan looked worried.

  “What’s wrong?” I murmured.

  “Not now,” he whispered. “You will understand tomorrow.”

  We talked then of Gundarstorp, of who had died among the torpari, and of marriages and births, of boats lost to summer storms and new barns built, and my longing for my land grew with every word. It was very late, and the wine finished, when Roghan stood. “I must sleep,” he said. “As should you. Mo bhráithar, this has been an unlooked-for joy. I thought never to see you again.”

  “Nor I you, Roghan. I might have played An Dithës Braithréan tonight, except I would have wept in the playing,” I told him, “as I have every time since war separated us.” Not untrue, and some of my tears had been for my brother.

  “I envy you the music, to express what you feel,” he said unexpectedly. “I will see you in the morning.”

  Chapter 43

  Very early the next morning I went in search of Ruar. The hall guard challenged me, but I gave him a look and reminded him I was Ruar’s toscaire, and I had information that could not wait. Reluctantly he escorted me to the boy’s bedroom.

  Ruar was awake, and dressed. “Sorley,” he said in surprise. “I was just going out for a ride before breakfast; it will be the only chance I have today, I think. Will you come with me?”

  I could have asked for nothing better. Once on the horses, and riding up the long valley, he told his guard to fall back. The man protested. “I am well-guarded along this valley,” Ruar said calmly, “and if the lord Sorley could keep me safe in battle, then he can here, too.”

  “What is it?” he asked, as soon as the guard had dropped behind. “You’re not in the habit of dawn visits.”

  “Two things,” I said, “and perhaps not unrelated. The first concerns our talks with Casil. You do know Liam asked me to negotiate with them not just to build a trading port at the mouth of the Taiva, but also a ship-building harbour?”

  “Ship-building?” he said. “I heard nothing of that. Tell me.” I did, summarizing the discussions of the summer. His eyes narrowed, concentrating.

  “That is more than I agreed to,” he said. “These talks must stop.”

  “There is more, Ruar. I have come to wonder what their motives are. Is it only a deep harbour in which to build ships, close to a supply of timber? Or do they want a base for a fleet from which to make Linrathe more than an allied land?”

  He pulled up his horse, turning to face me. “A valid concern,” he said. “A very valid concern. Tell me. Is Ésparias aware of this offer my great-uncle made?”

  “No.” I’d agonized over this, on the ride north. It was partly why I had made the detour to the Sterre, to give myself more time. Ruar was my Teannasach, and deserved truth from me. As a scáeli I must give it, but I had not yet sworn that oath. Cillian’s words to me would be treason in the eyes of the Eastern Empire, and as hurt and angry as I was, I could not — would not — do that to him.

  “Your concerns are noted, Lord Sorley,” Ruar said, “as is your diligence in bringing the matter to my attention. Casil must be told ship-building will not be allowed. A port for the transport of timber, yes; and perhaps for Marai trade, but under our control.”

  “The governor will be displeased,” I said. I would not be diplomatic, out here where no one could overhear.

  “He may be,” Ruar agreed. “But I have made it clear that I am Teannasach, and Liam was only one voice that advised me. What my other advisors will think of this will be informative.”

  Fourteen, he was. Donnalch had taught him well.

  “We must return,” he said, reining his horse around. “What do these northerners offer me, Sorley? Did your brother tell you?”

  “I wouldn’t let him,” I admitted. “Were the connected rooms your doing, Ruar?”

  “They were.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I haven’t seen him for seven years, and our father died this spring. He holds our lands as steward for me, by our laws of inheritance, and his son is my heir. We had much to talk about.”

  “I thought you might,” he said briefly, urging his horse into a gallop. At the doors to the house we left the animals to other hands and went to breakfast. Dugar and Roghan were there, and the Marai earls, looking impatient.

  “I will hear your thoughts shortly,” Ruar told them, “but I am newly-come from riding, and both thirsty and hungry.” As only a boy of his age could be, I thought, watching him eat twice what I did.

  “Now,” he said, with a nod to the servers to remove the plates and food, “I am ready. You will address only myself, and my toscaire the lord Sorley.” Ruar’s two older cousins had joined us.

  “Ruar,” Daoíre said, warning in his voice.

  “Please leave me, Daoíre,” Ruar replied. The man crossed to crouch by Ruar’s side, murmuring something. The Teannasach considered his words.

  “A fair thought,” he conceded. “You stay. Oisín, you will be advised of my thoughts later.”

  “Well?” Ruar asked, turning to the northerners once the door had been closed. “What is this proposal that can bring us peace?”

  Dugar cleared his throat. “With respect, Teannasach, we had hoped for another at this meeting. But from the danta Lord Sorley sang last night, it is clear that hope is in vain. Perhaps we could ask for your great-uncle Liam, instead?”

  “He is dead,” Ruar said. “Explain.”

  “You may not be aware of certain negotiations begun between Linrathe and Varsland nearly a decade past, regarding a marriage between your sister and a prince of the Marai?”

  It has been many years since we traded thoughts. Irmgard, Ǻdla of Varsland, greeting Cillian on a distant river a year and more ago. Cillian, whom they had hoped would be here. My stomach constricted.

  “I am not,” Ruar said. “My sister would have been newly born. Under whose authority?”

  “Liam’s,” Dugar said.


  “A decade past? He had no right. Who conducted these negotiations, behind my father’s back?”

  “The man we hoped could be present,” Dugar answered. “Cillian na Perras.”

  “Cillian na Perras?” Ruar derided. “I don’t believe that.”

  “I was there, when he came to talk to my father, to see if there was support in Sorham for the idea,” Dugar said.

  Bile rose, burning my throat. I reached for my cup, and the dregs of tea it held.

  “Lord Sorley?” Ruar turned to where I sat in silent shock. I was Liam’s man. Liam’s man, brokering a marriage between Varsland and Linrathe that would allow the Marai to influence the choice of Teannasach, that would make a Marai man an advisor to our country’s leader. A betrayal of not just Linrathe, but of its ancient line of chieftains and its generations of independence. For me.

  “I wasn’t aware,” I managed to say. “Not of the specifics. But that Liam had asked something of Cillian, yes.”

  “We will speak of this later,” Ruar said shortly. “Harr Dugar, there are no princes of Varsland now. What marriage are you proposing?”

  “But there are,” Dugar said. “I will have Earl Aaro speak; Lord Sorley can translate as needed. Although you speak my language, Teannasach?”

  “Some,” he said. “I will have my toscaire confirm what I believe I hear.”

  Aaro spoke succinctly. I listened with half an ear, enough to catch the gist of what he told us. With only one legitimate son himself, Fritjof had not killed his brother’s boys, but separated them and sent them to foster, to be brought up to honour their uncle. Aaro had one prince, Earl Olavi the other. Fritjof had thought the earls loyal, and for some time they had been, he admitted. But Fritjof’s cruelty had disturbed him, that and his usurping of the authority and voice of the Varsland earls, disbanding the council that spoke for the people and advised the king. Slowly he — and Olavi and others, he added — had come to think there must be another choice.

  “We fought for Fritjof. I admit that freely. I saw no other path at the time. But we have no leader now, and already there is strife among the earls. It is time for me to reveal I protect the legitimate prince of Varsland, Ǻsmund’s oldest boy Bryngyl, and declare myself and Olavi regents for the boy. A betrothal to the sister of the Teannasach of Linrathe will strengthen our position, I believe.”

  “How?” Ruar asked sharply. “It implies Linrathe would come to your aid in a war, Earl Aaro, and that I will not promise. We have fought the men of Sorham, our own people, once. I have no stomach to do so again.”

  “There are many in Sorham who tire of Marai rule already,” my brother said.

  “Many, perhaps, but not all,” Daoíre said.

  “And if we promised to return Sorham to you?” Aaro asked.

  “Can you make that promise?”

  “As regents to the true prince? I believe so.”

  Ruar pushed his chair back, standing to pace the room. “That is enough,” he decided. “I must speak to my advisors. There is much to be considered here.”

  “Teannasach,” Dugar said. “We must return to Sorham, or questions may be raised about where we were.”

  Ruar nodded. “You will be escorted,” he said. “For the risks you have taken to bring me this offer, and for the possibility of peace, I thank you.”

  Chapter 44

  Daoíre remained quiet until the northerners had left. Roghan held my eyes for a long moment, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips, before he turned away. As soon as the door closed, Daoíre spoke.

  “No, Ruar. We cannot consider this.”

  “No, cousin?” the young Teannasach said. “What do you think, Lord Sorley? What do you know of Cillian na Perras’s role in this treachery? I understand finally why my father never trusted him.”

  I had regained a little control. “That is unfair, Ruar,” I said

  “Is it? Then tell me why he would do such a thing.” A flush stained Ruar’s face, and I could hear the anger in his voice.

  “I will tell you,” I said. “But only you.”

  “Daoíre.” With a sweep of his head Ruar indicated the door. His cousin frowned. “I have trusted the lord Sorley with my life,” Ruar snapped. “Go. Wait outside.” Daoíre did as he was ordered, shaking his head in disapproval as he left. “Well?” Ruar demanded. He is still a boy, I reminded myself, and he likes Cillian. He defended him to Liam, before, and he is afraid he was wrong.

  “Ruar,” I said, softening my voice. “Will you listen?”

  “Why should I?” he said. Then he relented. “I will, of course. But you will tell me all of it. You must, of course; your scáeli’s oath demands it.”

  I would do as he asked. “One of Liam’s informants witnessed something compromising. He gave Cillian a choice: do Liam’s bidding, or have what he saw revealed.”

  “Cillian na Perras forswore his oath to save his reputation?” Ruar scoffed. “That seems unlikely, from what I know of the man.”

  “Not his reputation,” I said. “That of a young man only a little older than you, who stood to be disinherited and cast out, shamed through all Sorham and Linrathe.”

  Ruar said nothing for a long minute. “I see. Or rather, I do not. What you are implying — I have never heard such things said about Cillian.”

  “But you have about me, from my own lips,” I said.

  “Yes. They are of no matter. I may have only been in Ésparias for a short time, but while I was, I learned to think in different ways about certain things.” He turned. “How do you know Cillian speaks the truth in this, Sorley? It could be a tale to cast him in a favourable light.”

  “It is not,” I said. “I have reason to know. I was the young man, Teannasach.”

  “You?” Ruar repeated. His brow wrinkled. “Have you been part of this, then?”

  “No. I learned that Cillian had been suborned by Liam very recently. But these talks I knew nothing of, nothing at all.”

  “I see.” He paced the room. I waited, watching him, seeing the confusion on his face. Abruptly he stopped. “But perhaps he did us no wrong,” he said. “What if the ideas he planted seven years ago are our map to peace, and to regain Sorham?”

  “You cannot accept!”

  “No,” he said calmly, “I cannot. I do understand that I must not allow the Marai to have a say in who might be Teannasach after me. Nor do I wish to force my sister to marry. But who I marry is my choice, and I will ask if either of the earls has a daughter of the appropriate age. Do you not think that would bind them closer to us than sending my sister to Varsland?”

  “I’m not your advisor, Teannasach,” I said, temporizing.

  “No. But you are my toscaire. I am going to ask something very hard of you. I need eyes and ears I can trust in Sorham.” He held up a hand, stopping my instinctive protest. “I won’t ask you to violate your toscaire’s oath, and do what Liam asked of Cillian. Your task is not to influence, but only to listen, to gather opinion. I am sending you north, Lord Sorley.”

  To go home! A surge of longing swept through me. But the leap in my gut that said 'yes' was not just about walking my lands again. I couldn’t explain; that would come, later, when I had my ladhar in my hands. But it felt like deliverance from a weight I hadn't known I was carrying.

  “This is a commission from me, and not to be mentioned to my cousins,” Ruar added.

  “Then where will I be?”

  “You have volunteered to search for General Turlo, and his scout,” Ruar said. “He may have gone north himself, along the Durrains, as he did once before. A route you know, and therefore you are the best person to attempt to find him.”

  “And I’ll insist on going alone, to risk no one else’s safety?”

  “Just as you say, Lord Sorley. How could I refuse such bravery?” Ruar grinned.

  “I must write some letters,” I said. “Ruar, one other thing — could a letter be sent to Casil, to inform Irmgard that her sons are alive?”

  “Please write it,” Ru
ar said. “Now, I must meet with my advisors. You don’t need to be present. Take today for preparation; write your letters. I’ll have my steward gather the food and supplies you will need. Tomorrow is soon enough for you to begin your journey to the Durrains.”

  “One last thing,” I said. “Who will replace me, as toscaire to Ésparias and Casil?”

  “Daoíre. He told me he was prepared to, when you were made scáeli. So perhaps you and he had best talk, later today.” He stood. “Thank you, Sorley. I’ll see you before you leave. Give your letters to my steward; he will ensure they carry my seal too, and are sent.”

  I had been dismissed. Ruar, I thought in something bordering on awe, was going to be a formidable Teannasach. Perhaps already was. He had, I admitted, manipulated the emotions raised by my unexpected meeting with Roghan to get me to agree so readily to his plan. I could not yet look at my other reasons for accepting.

  In my room, I sat at the small desk to write the letters. I began with the one to Irmgard; that was easy, good news to be shared. A few brief lines, and then I folded the paper and sealed it. The second was to Druisius. He might be back, by now. I wrote his name, continuing in Casilan. I have work to do for my leader. I may be gone some time. I stopped writing, thinking how to express my feelings. You are my well-loved friend. Take care of them. It would have to do.

  Then the third. My last minutes with Cillian haunted me. I could not forget how I had left him, or his last words to me. I stared at the paper. I wrote his name, and stopped again. Not only my own doubts made me hesitate: I could not guarantee these letters would not be opened. I have a task to do for the Teannasach, I wrote again, this time in Linrathan. I put the pen down, picked it up again. The Teannasach saw potential in what Liam and Cillian had done. I wished I could think of a way to tell Cillian that.

  I wracked my mind for a line from a danta, something to tell him that good might yet come of his actions in Sorham and Varsland. Nothing quite fit, but if I changed a few words... I picked up my pen.