Respectant

by Florian Armaselu

  Impertinent man, but I still need him. “Gria told me about some issues related to the ... variety of food.” He gestured at everything on the table.

  “I am afraid, Sir, that our main issue is quantity, not variety.”

  “You received enough money.”

  “Enough is a relative term, Sir. In your letters you did not mention coming with nine more soldiers. Food is scarce here. There are now fourteen soldiers, five servants, your faithful warden, and three members of your family.”

  “How long do we have provisions for?”

  “Three months at best, and winters are long here. Hunting may add another month; there are plenty of deer, and we have a few more weeks to hunt. If we are lucky, we may find a bear. Snow and storms come early in the mountains. In fact, one of them is brewing now. A big one. We call them Mother Storms.”

  “The sky looks almost clear.” Aron glanced through the window, but all he could see was the decrepit wall of the precinct – built only ten feet from the kitchen, it obscured everything. He remembered the view from the two places where he was accustomed to eat: the valley in Severin, or the small mountains of Seged. That did not enhance his appetite.

  “The winds are strong, here; now it is sunny, but in an hour, rain will come from the ocean, then it will be sunny again. In the afternoon, it will snow hard and the wind will uproot old trees. On a day like this, we stay home in front of the fire and drink wine.” If we have it.

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Since I was born, Sir. My father was the warden before me. Two years ago, he was killed by robbers, when they attacked the villages.”

  “Does that happen often?” Aron asked, ignoring the pain in the man’s voice.

  “From time to time, savages from the south cross the mountains.”

  There was nothing else to ask, and Aron finished his meal in silence. “Let’s go and look around the area. I want to see the gate first.”

  The gate was a massive wooden thing. There was nothing on it to prove the rank of the owner of Castis, but it was sturdy. And partially rotten. Aron used his dagger to test the wood. In places, it entered a palm’s width into the beams. He kicked at the gate nervously, and tried to close it. He couldn’t. “I asked you to carry out renovations.”

  “You asked me to renovate the house, Sir. And anyway there was not enough time to repair the walls, the barn and the gate. Nor was there enough money. If the need arises, we can bar the gate with planks.”

  “How long will it take to rebuild everything?”

  “We have good carpenters in the village, and they will be happy to work here, but they are few. In one month, we can repair the gate. There are no masons. We need to bring them from Laurden. That means spring; they will not come here at the end of autumn.”

  “What is Laurden?”

  “A Seigneury. Castis pays allegiance to S’Laurden.”

  I know nothing about Laurden. Aron shook his head and went out through the gate to survey the wall. To his surprise, he found a stable being built outside the wall. “What idiot built the barn outside the wall?”

  “One without sufficient money, Sir. There is a smaller stable inside. It can keep three horses, and you have four of good quality, but the inner courtyard is rather small. When there is no danger, I suggest you keep all the horses here.”

  You are suggesting too much. You must learn your place. “How long will take to raise a wooden palisade around the barn?”

  “A year with the carpenters we have, but we can bring more from Laurden. That will cost. The revenues from the villages will not cover it; they will not even feed all the people you have now. Your revenues will pay for food for half a year,” the warden added before Aron could ask.

  Aron glared at the warden, but said nothing and returned to the precinct. On the terrace, he met two of his soldiers and the Spatar. “Go and wake up the lovers, and bring them to the council room; there are decisions to be made. And they need to be awake for their wedding,” he said to general laughter. I don’t think I can afford a Spatar anymore, but I will clarify that in spring. Here, money seems to vanish fast and appear slowly.

  “I heard her cries and moans all night,” the Spatar said, when the laughter subsided.

  “Claudin knows how to please a woman.” It’s what Bucur knows best. It seems so strange to call him Claudin... “You will come to the council room too,” Aron said to the warden and walked away at a brisk pace.

  The soldier went upstairs and knocked at the door. Then he knocked again. “Sir Bucur. I mean Sir Claudin. Lady Sali... Lady Vio. Sir Bernier is waiting for you in the council room. Sir Claudin.” This time he used his fist to bang on the hard wood. They are sleeping heavily. It’s not easy to please such a beautiful wife. Lady Saliné has a well-trained body. He grinned, imagining himself in her bed. Well-trained women need well-trained men. “Sir Bucur. Open the door.” He was worried now; too worried for false names. He tried the handle, but found that the door was locked. I would have done the same.

  “Why are you shouting?” Gria asked behind him.

  “They are requested downstairs.”

  “They are busy, I suppose. Most people are in such situations.” She took a key from the link at her waist and unlocked the door. “Come,” Gria said, her voice mischievous. Let him see the bitch naked. She thought to put me in my place. We’ll see.

  Lying on his back, Bucur was alone in the large bed. Where is the bitch? Gria wondered. Perhaps in the second room. “Wake up, Bucur,” she ordered and went to the other room, which was more a large wardrobe than a room.

  “Sir,” the soldier said in a low voice. “Sir, you are needed downstairs.” He shook Bucur’s shoulder. “What’s this?” He frowned and shook him again, harder. Something felt wrong, and he pulled the blanket away. Eyes wide, he looked at the knife in Bucur’s chest. “What will I tell Aron?” he wondered, his voice a faint whisper. He died making love. That would be a pleasant death. The soldier decided the truth was a better option. Bucur’s had died instantly; Saliné had pierced his heart at his first thrust, and his blood stayed more or less where it was – the bed bore hardly a stain. He also wondered why she had left such a strange knife stuck in Bucur. When they still lived in the hunting house in Severin, both Vio and Saliné had received a set of five Assassins throwing knives from Codrin. They were unusual, almost a palm long and a thumb’s width broad, with no covering on the handle. They were just thin blades, shaped with two quillons and a thumb raise. Aron knew where she had got the knife, and Saliné left it stuck in Bucur’s heart as a message for him.

  “What are you waiting for?” Gria asked. “Vio must be downstairs already.” Then she saw. “The bitch killed him.” Swiftly, she covered her mouth. She could have killed me too.

  The soldier went to the slightly open window and saw the sheets, tied to a piece of wood, taken from the unused fireplace, that was longer than the window was wide. “She went out through the window.”

  Aron and his men were already gathered in the council room, waiting for Saliné and Bucur, when the soldier came inside like a storm. “Sir,” he said and moistened his lips.

  “I told you to bring those idiot lovers here,” Aron snapped. “I don’t like to wait. She can come naked, if she can’t dress in five minutes. It will make the meeting more enjoyable.”

  “Enjoyable indeed, but it will be not easy to make decisions,” the Spatar said, and both he and Aron guffawed, while Guiscard forced himself to smile.

  Go, go, Aron gestured at the soldier with his left hand, his mouth still full of laughter.

  “Sir,” the soldiers said again and stopped, struggling to continue. “Claudin is dead,” he said, finally.

  Aron froze, his mouth open wide, like he had been caught in the act of laughing at a weird joke. Eyes fixed on the soldier, he forced his jaw closed, before saying, “What? How?”

  “He was stabbed.”

  “And the bitch?”

  “She is gone, Sir. She climbe
d down from the window, using a set of bed sheets.”

  “Sound the alarm,” Aron growled and stood up abruptly, throwing his chair against the wall. It fell into pieces. “You come with me,” he gestured at both Spatar and the warden. “We start the hunt now. Tell Gria to prepare my son for burial.”

  When they arrived at the gate, Aron turned toward the Spatar. “Who was on watch last night?”

  “Csaba, Sir. I will go to find him.”

  News about Bucur’s death spread, and the soldiers hurried to gather at the gate, like a flock of headless geese.

  “Where is Csaba?” Aron asked when the Spatar finally returned.

  “We couldn’t find him.” Did he ran away with Saline? I will have problems. I already have.

  “And all morning, none of you thought to ask where he was?” I have to leave this, for now, but I will hang the one who was on watch after Csaba. The warden said that I have too many mouths to feed.

  They lack discipline, Guiscard thought. I doubt that Bernier will survive long here. And now I am sure that Vio was kidnapped. I hope she escapes. She is a fine lady.

  When they led out the horses, the soldiers found Csaba in the stable, under a pile of straw. The warden pressed his fingers to the dead man’s skin. He was already cold and stiff. She seems to be a good fighter, and must be far away by now. But not far enough...

  When all his men were mounted, Aron looked at them before speaking, his eyes on fire. “I want her alive and unharmed. The first night, she will be mine, and then she will be your servant and your whore. She will belong to all of you.” He kicked the horse angrily, keeping the halter tight, making him turn abruptly. “Find her! Grab her! Spread her legs!” Aron growled, and his men cheered.

  On the road down, they met the priest and two women coming to Castis, carrying provisions in a small cart, pulled by a mule that looked old and bored. The warden nodded at Aron, who nodded back, and dismounted to talk to the priest. Guiscard took him away from the two women.

  “As things now stand, we will have a funeral, not a wedding,” Guiscard said.

  “Did they kill the girl?” the priest asked, his voice filled with sadness.

  “It was the other way around. The girl killed the groom and vanished.”

  “So, you were right about lady Vio being kidnapped. Try to help her.” The priest looked at the sky, and worry surfaced on his old face. “She has chosen a bad day to escape, a Mother Storm is coming.”

  “She is new here, and doesn’t know the mountains. She did not have too many options. I will delay them as much as I can, but I can do nothing about the storm. She still may have a chance, she looked like a clever girl to me, and I think that she left before midnight. Go and prepare the funeral.” Glancing again at the sky, the warden mounted and pushed his horse to a gallop.

  When they arrived at a small gorge, Guiscard pushed his horse to the fore and turned, making the column stop. “The road in front may be dangerous for us. From what you tell me, Lady Vio has a bow, and she is good with it.”

  “What do you want us to do?” Aron snapped. “To go back, as if nothing happened? And she is no lady. She is a whore.”

  “No, Sir. There is a parallel road, and we will not lose much time.” That’s all I can do for you, Vio. It will take twenty minutes to reach the other road.

  Saliné decided to let her mare rest and graze on the small meadow beside the stream. Contrary to her expectations, the road went abruptly up into the mountains for many miles, and that tired the horse. She was expecting to go north and down, toward Laurden. Instead, she went south and up, and Guiscard had warned her about the savages living there. Between the high peaks, the view was majestic, but she had no eyes for beauty. Looking at the grazing horse, Saliné felt famished too; she had eaten nothing since the last evening. She opened her backpack and took out a piece of cold meat and bread. As I told you, Bucur, the food on the table was not meant for you. As she started to eat, her mind went back to the last night, and she felt again her knife enter Bucur’s chest, at the same moment he had entered her. It was so easy...There was only a single moment of panic, when he had laid her on the bed, and she could not reach the knife hidden in the compressed space between the mattress and the wall. Her mind came back to the present, and feeling an itch, she rubbed her neck. She found dry blood. Bucur’s. I was not hurt. He died instantly. I need to look forward. She shook her head, yet her mind went back again. To the day before, when they had arrived at the crossroad from where they turned right.

  Why was Guiscard so eager to teach me about the road and the area? Did he guess that I was a prisoner? She glanced at her mare, and decided to give her more time to rest. I am just as tired. She will warn me if danger comes. Saliné did not fear Aron, not yet, but there were wolves and bears in the mountains and maybe savage robbers; she had certainly seen animal footprints on the narrow road. Eyes closed, she lay on the grass, between two bulky roots of an old pine, bared over the years by the strong winds; her pelerine was thick enough to shelter her from the cold ground, and Saliné fell instantly asleep. When she woke up, her first instinct was to look for the sun. It was partially cloudy now, but the sun had not moved far, it was still early in the afternoon. I don’t think that I slept more than an hour. She was still tired after a night without sleep, and there was tension gnawing at her too, something that she tried to ignore. Stretching, Saliné became aware of a strange quiet – or perhaps a sense of disquiet – in the tall rocks, covered with lush vegetation, on both sides of the valley. The cicadas had stopped singing their almost metallic tune. The birds were silent too. Hairs rose on her neck. She tensed, but showed no physical reaction. She casually shifted her stance, carefully placing her hand on the pommel of her dagger. I am worrying over nothing. She shook her head yet, unconsciously, she felt the static tension in the air. The calm before the storm. There is nothing there.

  Slowly, she mounted her mare, and let her dictate the pace. Half an hour later, the road finally turned north and slightly downhill, and she breathed a sigh of relief. “Let’s go faster,” she said and pushed the mare to a moderate canter. The road wound down like a giant snake and, after a long curve, she found herself face to face with Aron and his men, less than a hundred paces separating them. For a few moments, everybody was stunned, and they stared at each other with unconcealed animosity. Except for the warden, who looked amused. There was a three hundred feet deep precipice, between them.

  “Gallop!” Aron shouted, his voice salivating from the feeling of catching her soon, and his men followed him at once.

  The warden captured Saliné’s attention, and pointed at the sky. She looked up and saw the few clouds flying at high speed. Is he warning me about a storm? She bowed slightly to thank him, and started to ride again. He did the same, knowing that in twenty minutes the riders will stop, their horses exhausted from the gallop up on the steep slope, a common mistake for any newcomer. There was a three-hour ride between them and Saliné, and she was safe from Aron. Guiscard could not say the same about the impending storm.

  I hope that she understood my warning about the storm and finds shelter, he thought. There is only one really good place; the Blue Cave, but it’s not easy to see it from the road. It’s large enough to shelter the horse too, and the Mother Storm passes as fast as it comes. Tomorrow, we will have a clear sky. Maybe she will be lucky; she seems determined and well organized.

  Lulled by the rhythmic beat of hooves on the rocky ground, Saliné let her senses wander. The sigh of autumn leaves falling. The sound as they rustled from here to there in the gentle breeze. The distant cry of an eagle. The overwhelming scent of resin. All different and similar to her past memories. Her own heart beat strong and alert, ready to burst into action should danger approach. Is a storm really coming? Everything looked so peaceful around her, and the feeling of freedom lifted her mood. In half an hour, she forgot about the storm. The hailstones assaulted her from nowhere, making her lean forward to protect her eyes. The sun vanished, and the
darkest clouds she had ever seen gathered, covering the top of the mountains. She was on a plateau, open to the wind. Half a mile in front of her, the road wound toward the forest. I need to get there, she thought, the trees will offer some protection. Rain came before she could finish her thought, or start to ride, and darkness too; it was like late evening. It was cold too.

  Close to the edge of the plateau, where the forest filled the gentle slope, the rain had turned to snow. Her view restricted by the hood, Saliné failed to notice until a gust of wind pelted icicles into her face. She was foreign to those mountains, and she was foreign to mountains in general. The small rocky hills around Midia or Severin could not really be counted as mountains. Here, everything was different, grandiose, savage, and the large mountain chain topped by the dark clouds was breathtaking even through the low light. She was breathing hard, but not because of the view, which she ignored. The day before she had eyes for the mountains; now she needed to survive. The snow was a hand deep already, and the road here was so potholed that she had to walk down the slope with her mare at halter. She whipped off the hood, to shake out her long hair from the ice clinging to it, then pulled the hood back. The breeze, crackling with frost, smelled so different to any place she had been before – rusty and salty. Even a foreigner could now see that a Mother Storm was brewing up here, between the mountains and the ocean. It was coming her way. It was already here.

  She peered up, shielding her eyes against the dense snow: the mountains were gone, and she could not see more than a hundred feet in front of her. Saliné shivered, both from the lack of perspective and from the cold. It was suddenly so cold, and she could not understand neither the cold nor the storm. Usually, the cold comes after the storm, when the sky cleared. More crystalline icicles formed and clung to her hair and her clothes as she trudged through the snowy vastness. The snow seemed to petrify the surrounding forest and leave behind an inert silence that haunted her. There was no easy path to follow through the snow, and it had been like this for the most part of the last hour. She only knew that she had to go down, through the forest. At least she could still see the trees flanking the path through the icy whirlpools of snow surrounding her. Without the trees, there were no markers, and she would have to stop or risk falling over a precipice. A sudden gust of wind picked up, howling through the forest. The air crackled. Snow sizzled, and blew into Saliné’s face, blinding her.