Respectant

by Florian Armaselu

  She sat on the edge of the bed, waiting; she realized Veres had come for her when the door rattled. Old iron hardware creaked in protest as he lurched into the room. He was half drunk, and his eyes sparkled blearily, seeing her. She could smell it on his breath from where she sat. Cheap wine.

  “Undress,” he said.

  “Now that we are married, maybe we should talk, get to know each other better,” she said and stood up.

  His fist went for her belly, but this time she was prepared. Cleyre was an agile woman, and she had some fighting training. She ducked, and Veres almost fell on the bed, propelled by drunken momentum. She restrained herself from hitting the back of his neck, at the last moment. She was glad that Veres did not see how her arm sprang toward his neck, then pulled back.

  “Let’s sit together and talk,” she said again, but Veres was too furious now to listen, and listening to women was not his strongest point.

  Since the day they were attacked in the hunting house in Severin, and he had been too scared to defend Jara, even when his younger sisters jumped to help her against the assassins, he hated them, and he hated all women. He had built his life on the perverse thought that women were weak and stupid and meant to serve him. Sensing his potential as a tool, Aron had taken care to enhance his feelings and shape him as he wished. With a normal childhood, Veres might not have been more intelligent, but he could have been different.

  Boiling with rage, he went out and came back again with two soldiers that wore the colors of Severin. She retreated toward her bed, but there was no way to escape. One of the soldiers grabbed her by the hair and threw her into the bed. The other one chained her to the bed. It was a thin chain, ten feet long, and she realized that everything had been planned from Peyris.

  One day Reymont will pay, she thought; but she was wrong this time, it was Dizier who had planned this. He had been given to Veres as an advisor by Aron, and he acted as what might be called Veres’s mind.

  “Undress,” Veres barked again, when the men left the room.

  If I give up now, that will only embolden him. “Would it be so hard for you to talk to your wife?” She stood up slowly, trying to avoid a harsh reaction from him.

  “You have to obey me,” he said, and for a moment, she thought that maybe he would just continue to grow at her. She was wrong. Veres tried to hit her again, and she ducked again. He grabbed the chain and pulled. She fell straight into his chest. Before she could react, he hit her in the stomach and her breath disappeared. He threw her on the bed again. While she was still fighting for breath, he tore her undergarments to shreds and climbed on top of her. She resisted the impulse to scream, fighting him with every ounce of strength she had. But Veres was too strong and too big; he quickly overwhelmed her and trapped her under his body. He grunted with pleasure, as she bit her lip to avoid screaming.

  The agony went on long into the night. When Veres wasn’t raping her, he was beating her. By the time morning arrived, he had taken his wife three times and beaten her so badly that her eyes were swollen shut. With the dawn, he dressed calmly and left her chamber as if nothing was amiss. The second night was not much different, except that Cleyre did not even try to speak to him.

  Then he stopped visiting her. He still wanted to, but Maro, the old woman who Reymont had set as his spy on Cleyre, spoke to Ferko, and then Dizier spoke to Veres.

  “Sir,” Dizier said, “if Lady Cleyre dies, Peyris will not need you anymore.”

  “She must obey,” Veres said.

  “Any woman must obey her husband, but there are other ways to make them understand. Lady Cleyre has had a harsh lesson, maybe it is time for a ... gentler approach.”

  “She must obey,” Veres repeated but, in the end, he agreed to leave her some time to recover, and in future to beat her more gently.

  Ferko was a hard-bitten soldier, but he did not expect what he saw in Cleyre’s room, and for a while he could do nothing but stare.

  “Captain,” said the soldier, the one that had known Cleyre since she was a child. “She is Duke Stefan’s granddaughter and Sir Paul’s daughter. We both fought under his command.”

  “I know that,” Ferko growled, “but I thought her intelligent enough not to provoke Veres.”

  “You thought wrong,” the old woman said, “and whatever they promised you, it will vanish, if she dies. She is still like this from last night. Unconscious.”

  “Treat her.”

  “I am not a healer, but I will do what I can. It won’t help, if he comes again during the night.”

  “He won’t.”

  Ferko spoke to Veres, his tough hand gripping the young man’s shoulder and, already tamed by Dizier, Veres agreed to stay away from his wife’s bed for a week. He was not interested in talking, so he did not bother her at all.

  For two days, Maro kept changing the compresses on Cleyre battered body. From the first moment Cleyre became conscious again, she decided to ignore the old woman; she was Reymont’s spy and in league with the ones who had brought her to this state.

  When she felt that things were better, Maro asked for a bathtub and hot water. Ferko complained, but conformed to her wish.

  Cleyre said nothing when the old woman helped her undress and sit in the bathtub. It felt good, and even better when Maro scrubbed her skin.

  “Maybe you should change your approach with Veres,” Maro said.

  “He enjoys hurting women. That’s why your friend Reymont forced me to marry the pig.”

  “Reymont is my relative. That doesn’t make him my friend.”

  “He trusts you.”

  “Yes, he sent me here to look after you.”

  “And a fine job you are making of it.” Cleyre pointed at the bruises all over her body and her still swollen eyes.

  “I may be your only friend here,” Maro said, still scrubbing her skin.

  “You can’t be friends with both Reymont and me.”

  “I thought we’d established that he is my relative, not my friend. Would it be so hard to cooperate with both the Secretary and the Circle?”

  “But we have cooperated,” Cleyre snorted. “Our cooperation started when Reymont paid twenty mercenaries to kill me. I was lucky that a Triangle of Assassins was on hand to keep me alive.”

  “So, it’s true then.”

  She wants to learn more about the Assassins. Wrong, Reymont wants to learn more. “Yes, it’s true. They let it be known that I was under their protection. That’s why your... cooperative relative came up with this new idea. Grandfather cooperated with Reymont too, and got murdered for it. Poisoned.”

  “I thought that the Duke...”

  “Your relative is good at hiding his tracks.”

  “It will not help you, if Reymont learns what you think.”

  “I know that you will tell him, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Barring a miracle, I will not escape alive from here.”

  “You will,” Maro said and left the room. She returned a few minutes later with a potion. “Drink this,” she pushed the cup into Clerye’s hand.

  Cleyre looked dubiously at the cup, sniffed it, then tasted the potion. “Bloody Moon,” she said and drank the bitter tisane.

  “All things considered, I thought you probably don’t want to fall pregnant.”

  “You thought well.”

  “You know about Bloody Moon potion.”

  “I am not exactly a virgin. Thank Fate for that. Do you realize what would have happened if that animal had been my first man?”

  The week Veres left her alone, she planned and planned, and the only logical outcome was that she needed to kill him. That would not set her free, but Albert would at least have to find her another husband. That will take time, she thought; especially if my intended knows I killed his predecessor. And I would need to act like a ... submissive wife. The only thing she could think of was to strangle Veres with the chain tied to her leg. It was long, thin and flexible enough to be a tool of death.

  When Veres returned, Cleyr
e’s wounds were not fully healed, but she felt confident and smiled at him when he entered.

  Chapter 13 – Codrin

  I was so close to saving Saliné, Codrin thought for the hundredth time. He shook his head and returned to his work. While he was riding on the road from Rochil to Severin, he had decided to fight for her and to work hard and keep his failure out of his mind. Work helped him. It kept his mind busy. One by one, his councilors entered in the council room which had once belonged to Mohor. It was not easy for him to work there, as every object carried memories that he wanted to keep at bay, but it was the most convenient place, with the cache of maps and its safe position in the castle. Of all his councilors only Mara and Sava were not there, and he missed both of them. Mara for her subtle knowledge of his working habits, and Sava for his quick mind and sense of humor. Sometimes, it seemed that Mara knew better than Codrin what he needed. When the others were finally settled, he placed the letter from Mara on the table.

  “Pierre is almost fully healed and has left for Tolosa. Despite the efforts of our people in Poenari, we still don’t know who tried to kill him. Until we learn more, or we return, Poenari remains a closed city, so your families are safe there.” And my son too. Of all the men in the room, apart from him, only Lisandru and Julien, who was Sava’s son, had relatives in Poenari. Damian was still on the road, coming back from the Mountes in White Salt Mountain, and he was expected to return a few days later. “Vlaicu, how many soldiers do we have now?”

  “Five hundred and fifty are already here. As Vlad mentioned this morning, Phillip will arrive tomorrow from Deva. He brings two hundred and fifty more soldiers. We were expecting only two hundred.”

  Codrin knew the numbers well, but he also knew that talking about the extra troops would raise morale. He had never had eight hundred soldiers under his command, and that brought his men a new degree of confidence. Until now, they always fought against greater numbers. His new army would soon be almost equal to Orban’s.

  “What about provisions?”

  “Most of them are already here. Phillip is bringing his own provisions.”

  “We leave in three days. Split the army and the convoy with provisions into five groups. It’s not possible to move the carts through the forest, so they will follow the small roads north toward Arad.” He stood up and went to the large map on the walls. “We will go this way.” He traced a secondary route from Severin to Arad. As well as being less used, it was also longer, as it went north-west for a while, before returning east toward Arad. “Twenty guards will join each convoy, and they will travel like caravans, not like an army. The remaining soldiers from each five groups will travel through the forest. Even on minor roads, we may encounter Orban’s patrols. Each caravan must deal with them peacefully, and be prepared to tell a story about their journey to Peyris, Loxburg and other large cities in the north. Each caravan will have a different destination to give, if they are asked. Only in case of emergency will the soldiers in the forest attack Orban’s patrols. I want to move like a ghost, unseen.”

  “What about the scouts?” Vlad asked.

  “We will split them up too, but they will remain under your direct command. We will set a certain distance between the caravans, so the scouts’ areas will overlap. Your scouts will also be our couriers. To begin with, two hours distance between them should be fine.”

  “It sounds like a good plan,” Vlaicu said.

  Codrin smiled briefly, knowing that Vlaicu would be disappointed by his next decision. “You will remain here. I need a strong man to defend Severin with a few soldiers.”

  For a few moments, Vlaicu frowned, but he saw the sense in Codrin’s decision. “You want all the glory for yourself,” he grinned. “When you say few, how few do you mean?”

  “Forty soldiers, and you will have Ban here too. Before we leave, you should gather a hundred more men, old men, young men, like we did during the Mehadian campaign. They will camp outside Severin, close to the gate. Their presence will fool any spy into thinking that my army is still here. You are my Spatar, and at a certain point, I may need you. Ban will stay behind to defend Severin. Damian has not returned yet, so we don’t have any news from the Mountes.” Codrin looked at his men, one by one, and saw that there were no more questions. “Let’s get ready.”

  ***

  The last crossroads was now just two hours in front of them, and then they would turn east, toward Arad. Codrin was riding at leisure, with twenty-five soldiers, one mile in front of the first caravan. To an observer on the road, there was nothing to connect his group and the caravan following them, there was no sign of the hundred soldiers riding through the forest, and the scouts were out of sight. It was a warm, sunny day, and the ground under the trees along the road was broken with shadow and slashed with bright sunlight, shifting as the branches moved in the wind. People, going north and south on the road, were content. Why think of evil things on a day like this?

  Before the road emerged from the valley, toward the crossroads, a squad of scouts galloped out of the forest and approached Codrin. “Incoming riders in fifteen minutes,” their leader announced. “Twenty soldiers, wearing the colors of Peyris.”

  “Keep watch on them,” Codrin said, and the scouts vanished again into the forest. “Vlad, send two men on each side of the forest, to warn the soldiers. Blue Alert, I don’t expect trouble.” That was the lowest level of alert in their army; the soldiers would remain hidden, but ready to intervene.

  Once they saw Codrin and his soldiers, who wore no colors, the riders from Peyris slowed down and came almost to a stop, a hundred paces away from them.

  Codrin already knew who was in front of him; he had used his spyglass. “Vlad, come with me,” he said and pushed Zor forward. “Spatar Nicolas,” Codrin bowed briefly. “It looks to me like you are in a hurry. We will not delay you.”

  “The Wraith of Tolosa. I did not expect to find you here.”

  “Where would you expect to see a Wraith?” Codrin laughed, entering the skin of his other self, Tudor.

  “Are you free?”

  “That depends.”

  “Ah, a Wraith always means business. How many men do you have?”

  “Enough.”

  “How many is enough?”

  “Twenty-five.”

  Nicolas’s horse reared a little and skittered nervously. It took him a few moments to calm it down. I never heard of a Lead Protector, or even a Wraith, having so many soldiers, and they all look tough. Maybe they can help me. “Do you remember Cleyre?”

  “How can I forget such a beautiful woman, or the strange things that happened when I last met her?”

  “We need to talk.” Nicolas dismounted abruptly and passed the halter of his horse to one of his soldiers. Codrin did the same, letting Zor free, and they walked a few steps away. “Cleyre has been made prisoner, in a place that is hard to take. I am afraid that she will be killed.”

  “Who dares to provoke the Assassins? She is under their protection.”

  “An idiot. I am not even sure if they told him about the Assassins and their pledge.” Nicolas stopped, but Codrin asked him nothing. “His name is Veres.”

  “The Snail?”

  “Yes, the very one. Do you think you might help me? I was going to Severin to ask Codrin for help, but the sooner we act, the better.” Nicolas pressed his tongue into his lower lip, his eyes fixed on Codrin with badly dissimulated expectation.

  “Do you think that we can take the place with forty something soldiers?”

  “No, it will take at least five hundred soldiers and two or three months to lay a successful siege.”

  “And what do you want me to do with forty men?”

  “You are the Wraith, I am just a soldier. You will find a way. Ask the price, and I will not negotiate.”

  “Where is the place?”

  “The Eagle’s Nest, a small fortress in the White Salt Mountains of Peyris, forty miles from the border with Arad. Less than two days’ ride from here.”<
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  “I don’t know the place.”

  “The area is isolated, almost uninhabited. There are thirty-three soldiers there. Thirty of them are from Peyris.”

  “They would listen to you.”

  “Some of them might listen to me, if I am able to get in. Their captain is not my friend and he answers directly to the Duke. He was promised Knighthood for keeping Cleyre there. In fact, I am not even sure that I still am the Spatar of Peyris. I left the city in a hurry, and things may have changed.” I was the Spatar of Peyris for nine years. It was a different Dukedom. The strong men died, the weak one survived. Nicolas sighed to himself. A long sigh that went out in silence.

  “Why Veres?”

  “Maud sent him to marry Cleyre, but in truth she just wants her dead.”

  “You mean that they…? Codrin felt his anger rising, and struggled to control his voice.

  Nicolas’s keen eyes sensed that Codrin was troubled. Strange his reaction, he thought. “Yes, he even beat her in the church, to force her say yes. Despite that, she kept saying no, and they still married her. Look, Cleyre trusts you, and she told me that I can trust you and Codrin, even with the most delicate political matters, or with her life. I hope that she is right. There are a lot of nervous people in Peyris right now, and we may soon see a rebellion aiming to replace Albert with Cleyre, but we must free her first. It will bring a good reward.”