by Patty Jansen
She looked like . . .
Like the old women who sat in the back of the church.
And then Johanna realised that this was a setup. Mistress Dina was sent by the shepherd or someone like that. Get her to dress properly in church-approved clothes.
Because no one in the church thought that her clothes were dour enough.
Hot anger made her cheeks flush.
The church was trying to make her and Roald theirs, as they had done with King Nicholaos.
Chapter 7
* * *
HAD SHE BEEN plain Johanna Brouwer, she would probably have stopped going to church at that point. She had only started going to church a few years before the fires, because so many people spoke about it, and because the services were very well attended and the wooden pews told her many stories about the people who sat in them.
But she had left Johanna Brouwer behind ages ago, and more than ever, she realised that her survival, indeed the survival of Saarland as independent country, relied on a careful balance between the Church of the Triune and the Belaman Church, between magic and those who abhorred it, between true Saarlanders and those from elsewhere.
Had she been plain Johanna Brouwer, she might have barged into the service late wearing her clogs, stormed to the altar and yelled at the shepherd at the top of her voice for trying to make her do what he wanted. She’d have dressed in the most colourful dress, too.
But she’d been young and naïve and if it weren’t for Father she would probably have ended up at the bottom of the Saar River.
So she wore the dour dress, but even Father noticed it. He frowned. “Is that your new dress? It’s not like you at all.”
Johanna mumbled something about being proper.
“Dear child, when have you ever worried about something being proper?” Master Deim was just coming in. He eyed Johanna’s dress. “Yes, that’s very . . . unlike you.”
Johanna made a lame excuse. “Mistress Dina came with Nellie’s recommendation. She’s been modiste for the royal family for years.”
“Hmm. Very motherly.” That dress had to be bad if even Father noticed it.
Not so long ago, she had worn clogs to church. How quickly things changed.
Father nodded his approval. “Well, at least no one at the King’s Council will be speculating anymore.”
“Did they speculate?” Not that it should surprise her.
“There was some rather crude talk, which I put an end to. Tomorrow’s meeting will be interesting if you are going to be stubborn about being on the council.”
Interesting was not the word Johanna would use. One thing she appreciated about Father. No matter how much he, as a man, would disagree with her desire to continue working, he had never said anything about it.
Fortunately, the day had turned quite cold, and Johanna could wear her cape over the top without dying of heat stroke. She was glad of the comfort the coach offered her on the way to church.
A group of citizens waited on the steps and under porch, sheltering against the steady drizzle that had started to fall. As soon as the driver opened the coach door, a cheer went up.
A man shouted over the top of all the voices, “Three cheers for the queen and the royal heir!”
People shouted, “Hurray, hurray, hurray!” And then they clapped and shouted “Congratulations!”
In her new and very dour “proper” dress, Johanna felt like a dressed-up doll. No, she was a puppet like those in the puppet theatre. Someone else did the talking. She just did whatever people expected. Her body was reduced to being a vessel to carry the royal heir.
It’s your own fault, a little voice inside her said. No one ever said that it would be easy. As sole heiress of the Brouwer Company, her life was always a commodity anyway. To be married off. Sleep with this man and beget him an heir. That was her function.
A very, very small corner in her mind found it funny that the child that would be born in August carried no Carmine blood and would probably have a good deal of magic.
Inside the church it smelled of wet fabric and musty clothes. Most people would have walked here through the rain. Most people who came to church were the merchants and workers. Very few nobles would ever have set foot inside this building or even its predecessor, or, for that matter, any of the other Church of the Triune buildings in town.
Johanna sat down at the usual pew at the very front of the church. She could still feel people’s gazes and hear people talking about her and the impending birth. Most of the talk was good, happy. Nellie had been right.
Then someone behind her said in a clear voice, “What is he doing here?”
And someone else gasped.
Johanna glanced at the guard next to her. He had half-risen from the pew and looked out towards the back of the church.
“Who are they talking about?” she asked him in a low voice.
“Have a look yourself. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
She looked over her shoulder.
At the very back of the church there was an area for latecomers. There were always people who came after the service had started and couldn’t get a seat, and a few people always preferred to stand. They were usually the same people: a farmer who lived just outside the town and who complained that sitting hurt his backside, a quay hand who was so tall that his legs didn’t fit comfortably between the rows of pews.
Today, someone else had joined them: a man in a thick fur coat with black hair tied back in a bun. Li Fai.
Whether it was coincidence or a work of magic, he found Johanna’s eyes over the heads of all those people.
She felt like screaming at him, Leave! This is not a place that’s friendly to you! She wondered what had possessed him to come here. If he was naively curious about what people did at church, this curiosity would kill him one day. If he had a plan . . . what plan could possibly involve a church that preached against his very existence?
If she were plain Johanna Brouwer, she would have gone to him right now and asked him if he knew what he was doing. But if she were plain Johanna Brouwer, she would probably hardly know who he was. Or she would, like most people, be afraid that he was an evil magician.
Even if she entertained that thought to get up and warn him anyway, it was too late for it now, because the congregation hushed and the shepherd came to the dais. He wore his usual cream-coloured robe and a red scarf that hung down both sides of his neck. The sign of the Triune—two triangles with the sides intertwined—was embroidered in gold thread on both ends of the scarf and the tassels dangled as he walked.
He met Johanna’s eyes and bowed. Then he opened the big, leatherbound Book of Verses that lay on the dais and started the service. Today, he spoke about the good of the holy god and how that good lived on in each person.
He seemed . . . distracted, for want of a better word. He was constantly leafing through the book looking for specific citations. Twice he forgot where he was. Johanna noticed that he looked thin, and his hands trembled. Several times, he glanced at the back of the church where Li Fai stood. Johanna was afraid that he was going to make comments about “heathen invaders”, but he did not.
After the service, he came down the steps and bowed to Johanna. “You have formally announced the impending birth. My congratulations.”
“How is Greetje?” His wife had to be very close to giving birth.
“Very well.”
“She must be getting very tired. I have hardly seen her in the past month.”
“She has been busy.” He glanced aside. “All of her work has been in the house. It’s not a good idea for a woman in her condition to go about in the streets.”
Johanna wanted to argue why not, and that women on farms didn’t seem to have those restrictions, but other women had already assured her that she’d be too tired to do anything that wasn’t essential, and her first consideration should be for the child. Never having had a child, Johanna couldn’t dispute their statements. What did she know about it a
nyway?
She wanted to talk to Li Fai, so she made some sort of an excuse and went down the aisle towards the back of the church. But there were so many people wanting to congratulate her that by the time she came to the area behind the pews, Li Fai was nowhere to be seen.
The church buzzed with rumour about him, but so many women crowded around to offer Johanna help and advice that she couldn’t hear what was being said. The women offered to make clothes and bedding for the little one. They offered to help look after the child, wet-nursing even.
It made Johanna feel uneasy. This was actually getting serious. It was happening. This annoying thing that grew inside her would always be part of her life. There was no going back.
That was a scary thought.
She looked over her shoulder, but the shepherd was gone, too. That was strange. He normally never let an opportunity pass to talk to the congregation.
Johanna put the facts together.
Li Fai coming to church, now gone. The shepherd nervous, now also gone.
“Let’s go,” she said to her guard, who today was Anton, a soft-spoken orange-haired giant. With his imposing figure, he had no trouble clearing the aisle and preceded her to the doors.
“Wait,” Johanna said when she was in the coach and he was about to shut the door. “I’d like you to walk around the church, especially the back of the building where few people go except the shepherd.”
“Anything in particular you want me to look for, Your Majesty?”
“Anything unusual, but in particular people having arguments.”
He nodded without question and vanished into the night.
Johanna waited in the coach while the last of the congregation filed out of the church. It was very dark in the porch of the church, and a few pitiful street lamps reflected in the wet wooden steps.
Up on the driver’s seat, the coach driver sneezed so loudly that it echoed over the market square. His movement made the coach wobble a little. One of the horses snorted, probably having been suddenly awoken from its nap.
Johanna giggled silently. She had no idea why she found it funny when people sneezed.
But now there was a sound of a key being turned in a lock. A moment later a figure in a rain cloak walked across the porch and down the steps. This person was too small to either be the shepherd. It had to be one of the altar boys.
Johanna opened the door to the coach. “Excuse me.”
The boy—because it was indeed an altar boy—gasped audibly. “Oh. Your Majesty. I didn’t realise you were still here.”
Johanna managed to stop herself from saying The coach would have been a pretty good indication. “I was wondering if there is something going on with the shepherd. Normally he closes the church, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, he does. He asked me to close tonight.”
“Did he say why?”
“He didn’t, Your Majesty.”
“Is it because of his wife?”
“I honestly couldn’t tell, Your Majesty. Could be.”
That was typical of Master Willems: he rarely spoke about his family or anything that could be considered personal information.
While they stood there, Anton came around the corner of the church building. He shook his head. “Nothing. All quiet.”
Johanna sighed. Maybe she was seeing things. “Let’s go home then.”
“As you wish.”
Johanna went back into the cabin, and Anton climbed on the bench next to the driver. The coach set off.
The rain had gotten heavier in the past few minutes. Drops streaked over the little window and restricted Johanna’s view of the deserted streets. The coach went the long way. In the past few days, the town council had started repaving the main street from the markets to the palace, and with the rain it would be muddy. So they went along the stately houses along the main canal and turned left into the street that ran from the markets to the harbour.
They were almost at the markets when Johanna became aware of voices: men shouting. The coach slowed down and then stopped.
Anton said, “All in order?”
A man replied. Johanna couldn’t hear what he said. She opened the door to the coach far enough that she could stand on the top step and look into the street. Cold rain hit her face.
Five men stood in a circle. Four wore dark clothing and hoods that covered their heads. One of those carried a torch.
The fifth man, with his back against the steps to the front door of a stately house, was Li Fai.
He met Johanna’s eyes over the rump of one of the horses. An expression of relief came to his eyes.
Johanna couldn’t see who the other men were, but one wore a long coat of thick felt or some such. It was a fine-looking garment that a pauper could never afford. The other men weren’t paupers either.
“Do ride with us.” She put on her most innocent voice. “The weather is positively awful. We can go past your ship. I wanted to ask some questions, if you don’t mind being questioned at this time of day.”
He bowed. “I’m at your service.” In long strides, he walked past the four men to the coach. As he passed, one of them turned his head, allowing a brief flash of torchlight to strike his face.
It was Octavio Nieland.
Chapter 8
* * *
LI FAI CLIMBED into the cabin and sat down on the bench opposite Johanna. Anton shut the door behind him, enveloping Johanna in the smell of wet clothing and the faint tag of a foreign perfume.
The coach jolted into motion.
“Thank you,” Li Fai said, pressing his hands together before his chest and bowing.
There was a short silence, thick and awkward.
“Were they bothering you?”
“They were asking things I don’t know.”
“Do you know any of these men? Have you met them before?”
“They have businesses in the harbour, don’t they? One is from the Nieland family?”
Johanna nodded. “What did they want to know? They didn’t hurt you, did they?” It was far too dark in the coach to see if he had any injuries to his face.
“No.” He let a short silence lapse, in which Johanna filled in, Not yet, and then continued. “A few months before we came here, we put in at Seneza. We come there often.”
Johanna had heard sailors talk about Seneza. She didn’t think Father had ever been there. Lurezia was about the furthest south one could travel on the inland rivers. Seneza lay at a rocky point where the Golden Sea joined the southern Lamorian Ocean. From accounts, she had heard it was a sunny and dry place, with a jumble of ochre-painted houses and many ancient temples and churches. It had been the home of the Belaman Church for hundreds of years, and it was because of its location that the church had so easily spread across the known lands.
Seneza was also an important port city, which was why Li Han would have been there, going in and out of the Golden Sea to Phoenicia and many of the rich lands in that area.
“While we were in Seneza, something important was happening there, except we were unfamiliar with it at the time. Apparently there was an inquisition in the Belaman Church.”
Johanna nodded. The one where the Most Holy Father Severino had declared the Church of the Triune banned from the Belaman Church.
“On the evening before our departure, a man came to us. He asked if we were going to Saardam, and we said we were. Then he asked us if we could take a crate and deliver it to the shepherd of the Church of the Triune. We said we could. He paid the fee. We did as asked.”
“Was that why you were in the church tonight?”
“No. We delivered the crate when we first moored at the quay weeks ago. But people have been asking about it since. I was . . . simply curious about the church and trying to understand why so many people are looking for this thing. I was going to ask the shepherd what was in the crate.”
“You didn’t look at it while it was on your ship?”
“We trust our customers and do not open their cargo.”
He sounded indignant.
“I’m sorry. I just thought you might have had to inspect the contents or something. Did you end up asking the shepherd what was inside?”
“He left the church before I could go to him. It was very busy.”
Indeed, it had been, but also, having seen Li Fai, the shepherd had left the church quickly. “And these men who were just talking to you, they asked about this thing as well?”
“They did.”
This was getting ever stranger. “What did they want to know?”
“They asked me where it is, not believing me when I said we delivered it to the shepherd. They say the shepherd tells them he doesn’t have it. So if he doesn’t have it, what did he do with it? Why should that be our business? We delivered it. Our business is finished.” He spread his hands. “But still they come. They believe the shepherd, and not our words. We don’t have anything to do with it. We don’t have it anymore.”
“Who gave it to you, in Seneza?”
“It was a man from the church. He paid us on the spot and didn’t want his name recorded. That is not unusual. Some people are very suspicious. He was quite old and was wearing . . .” He made a movement down his front indicating a long garment. “He was a monk.”
“A habit?”
“Yes.”
Very strange indeed. “Have any of these people told you why they want it?”
“They seem to think it is worth more than the gold we brought.”
The coach was turning onto the quay. The wheels rattled over the cobblestones.
She spoke in a low voice. “Did the crate contain something of . . . magic?”
“Magic?” He frowned.
“Yes, like . . .” Her heart was thudding hard against her ribs. “Like if I touch a piece of wood, the wood can tell me what it has seen in the few days before. Some people can see things on the wind, or in water.” She didn’t know why she was saying this. He was still frowning and clearly had no idea what she was talking about.
From the brief encounter in the palace, she thought he had magic, but maybe he didn’t. Maybe there was no magic in his homeland.
