The Pentacle War: Book One - Hearts In Cups

by Candace Gylgayton

  "Such headgear can be heavy," Oisan agreed.

  The prince flicked a smile at the old one. "I cannot envision myself engaging in the petty games and trivialities that my father called "statecraft." I was not able to submit to it when I was younger, and I will not now."

  "But you are no longer the youngster who ran away. You understand the burden of your own self and you have learned to govern that self. However, you have erred if you think that this world is the only true world of worth. What you are and what you have learned will not vanish if you leave." Oisan's hand reached out and lightly touched the prince's. "Acceptance, in the end, is the only true way, because once the game has been set in motion it will go on whether you will or no."

  "You counsel me to leave then?"

  Oisan chuckled, the sound of dry leaves rustling in the wind. "No, no, I do not point in any direction. The choice is solely your own. If you wish to stay here, nothing will prevent it. I only voice what you will not say aloud. Go now and decide in your own heart which way you will proceed. And fear not, since whatever you choose to do will be the right choice."

  Back in the dormitory room assigned to her, Hollin and Daffyd sat together eating their noontime meal. The duchess was pensive and withdrawn after her interview with the prince, and they ate mostly in the silence that permeated the city. Daffyd, aware of Hollin's status of being formally betrothed to the prince, was privately of the opinion that the prince had shown a less than expected enthusiasm when confronted by his affianced bride. He felt rankled by the prince's indifference and affronted for his mistress. He had grown exceedingly fond of Hollin and anything that might hurt her was a personal grievance to him. Hollin glanced up and found Daffyd staring at her with a look of deep concern.

  Mustering a smile, more in the eyes than the mouth, she remarked, "It seems that our presence and our news is not to be greeted with the eagerness that we might have hoped."

  "Prince Brian did seem a bit distant," Daffyd ventured. "Perhaps it was merely because he was surprised."

  "He did not seem to me to be so much surprised as to be a man faced with something unpleasant that he has been avoiding," she replied acerbically.

  Daffyd studied his right hand as he asked, "Have you thought about what is to happen if he refuses to return with us?”

  Hollin sighed as she considered this question, the same that she had been toying with in her own mind since the interview with the prince had concluded. The situation in the Pentarchy was far too critical to have a weak or disinterested leader. She had not yet admitted to the disappointment she had felt at the prince's appearance and his evident coolness. She now faced the realization that she had built expectations that were not to be filled. The vague picture she had carried and elaborated in her mind was of a much comelier and younger man, eager and ready to return and take his father's place. The man she had met was older, plainer and not all eager to become a king. A feeling of defeat pervaded her mind.

  "I don't know. I suppose that if he will not come with us, then we shall return on our own and tell the council of his decision. But," she tried to dispel her gloom, "he has three days during which he may contemplate the situation, and perhaps in the end he will come round." She shrugged in resignation and Daffyd nodded sympathetically. What she did not say, could hardly face herself after all of her exertions in getting here, was that the thought of returning to the Pentarchy to the marriage of state that she would then be compelled to undertake was almost more than she could bear.

  Chapter 13

  An adequacy of nourishing food and a warm shelter to sleep in did much to revive the bodies of the Duchess of Langstraad and her paxman. To ease the tension as they waited for the prince to make his decision known they took to going on long, rambling walks through the city and out to the terraced gardens and fields beyond the city's enclosure. Most often they went out together, the woman, wrapped in her own thoughts, followed closely by her guardian shadow; but occasionally Daffyd walked alone.

  Those inhabitants of the city that they met smiled or nodded politely to them but, aside from those who brought them food and filled their braziers with coals, no one bespoke them. The city was a contemplative refuge and those who lived within it followed a monastic rule.

  The prince was notable in his absence. He was neither seen nor heard from, either on the day they met him nor on the following day. The strange, elderly being who had first welcomed them to the citadel was also not seen again. Daffyd questioned one of the people who brought their food and found that Oisan was venerated as a sage, though not their spiritual leader. In fact, there seemed to be no one person who could be designated the leader, spiritual or secular.

  While they had the opportunity, and to assuage their boredom, both Daffyd and Hollin used this time to wash and reorganize all of their possessions. With or without the prince, they would be making a long return journey. Hollin was disinclined to speak about what was so clearly on her mind, so they confined their speech to present trifles. After their evening meal on the second day, Hollin took a walk alone while Daffyd mended one of the straps of his pack. He had quickly offered to put the mending away and accompany her, but she dissuaded him. Nothing in the least untoward had occurred while they had been guests in the city, and her safety seemed well assured. Convinced that she really did want to be alone, Daffyd acquiesced and she went out by herself.

  The walls of the city were stained with the colours of the sunset and threw long shadows across the streets. Hollin wended her way in a desultory fashion to the edge of the citadel, where she could look over the wall and down the mountain's sides into the westering sun. The buildings here were set back from the wall so that there was a semicircular area of paved stones between the buildings and the low wall. There was no one about, most of the inhabitants having gathered in the common refectories for their evening meal, and she was free to sit unobserved on the edge of the wall and let her mind wander over the vast distances that spread out and were absorbed by shadows below. Surrounding her was a heaviness of a quiet that was almost palpable. Every sound, even the rustle of cloth or the buzzing of a fly, was disconcertingly amplified.

  Slowly the sky drained of colour and subtle greys and blues climbed the mountains and descended from the sky to bring twilight to the world. Still Hollin sat and brooded. She thought of those she had left behind: Percamber, Colin and Dinea, her fellow peers of the Pentacle Council with their varying plots and ambitions, those men and women whom she had last seen lying dead and dying in the foothills of the Slakestone Pass, and, dear to her heart, she thought about her cousin, Ian. Was he now installed as Duke Regent? How was he faring in a role that he professed not to want? She had judged him fit and able to act as her surrogate should she die; but was he truly capable, or had she let her heart sway her judgment? The Duchy of Langstraad was her trust and responsibility, and one that she had always taken most seriously. She fervently hoped that her trust was not misplaced and that he had the strength and ability to protect and defend what she had bequeathed to him.

  So much rested on Prince Brian’s eventual decision. This place that he had come to was strange to her eyes and her upbringing. There was an unreal quality to the location and the people who dwelt here. It was not that she saw evil here; on the contrary, evil seemed to be impossible to even conceive of here, let alone actually exist. But, corollary to that appraisal, was the feeling that good, active good, was also impossible here. This was a passive world and she was an active person. Much was made clear to her in that rush of insight. She now understood her own discomfort, despite the obvious reassurance of this place. She did not belong here and neither did Daffyd. The problem was whether Prince Brian belonged in this world or the one that had given him birth. Something she had seen, barely glimpsed, in his face had given her hope, but then what she thought she had seen was, more than likely, only a projection of her own hopes. The conundrum could not be solved by her; this much she did know. She stood up, aware that she had been sitting for too long
and that if she did not return soon a worried Daffyd would come looking for her. The first stars were becoming visible as she started back to her room.

  The summons came late in the afternoon of the third day, and the duchess was bid to come alone to the pavilion. The afternoon was pleasant, with the hint of a breeze freshening the air and bestirring the warmth that radiated from stones which had spent the day in the heat of the sun. Hollin had tried to eliminate most of the wrinkles and stains in her clothing but was aware that her appearance was still far more shabby than she would have liked. Only the jeweled pins in her hair and the great ruby ring on her hand echoed the former splendour of her attire. As she followed yet another robed back to this meeting, she found herself eager to hear what his final decision would be, though she feared it as well.

  Prince Brian was standing at the foot of the pavilion as she slowly crossed to where he stood and made him a dignified curtsey. Holding forth his hand, he escorted her up the stairs and seated her, as before, facing him. Today the hood of his robe was off his head, though the revealed face was as unreadable to her as if he wore a mask. A woven mat with a pot and two cups was set between them. The smell of herbs and a mirage of heat emanated from the glazed pot.

  "You have been well cared for?" His inquiry was polite, emotionally uncoloured.

  "Yes," she replied in an equally neutral tone.

  He leaned forward and poured the fragrant tea into two earthenware cups. Graciously, he presented one of the cups to her and waited until she had taken a sip before tasting his own. Setting his cup down, he turned his attention to her.

  "Let me begin by asking, what is it that you intend to do if I do not return to the Pentarchy with you?" His face continued to express nothing and she was uncertain whether this was his own oblique answer couched as a question.

  Carefully placing her cup before her, she looked at him squarely. "Whatever decision you make, I will return to the Pentarchy. My place is there and it is there that my duty lies.

  "Your return," she continued, "is the best solution for ending the strife that is, or will soon be, bringing civil war to the land. However, there are other alternatives for myself and those who are attempting to heal the breach. We shall follow whatever course we must to preserve the Pentarchy and to resolve the situation. At the worst, I will hold and protect Langstraad against the dissolution of the Pentarchy."

  When he forbore an immediate response, she was rankled enough to add, somewhat stiffly, "If this is to be your final reply then I must express my disappointment in both you and your answer."

  "Why do say that?" His tone remained casual and his eyes were fixed noncommittally on his cup.

  "You are the only direct heir to House of Sandovar. To be born as you were, with wealth, titles and power, grants you great privileges. In exchange, you are charged with great responsibilities." She spoke in a voice weighted with passion and conviction. Having lived by these principles all her life, she was willing to proclaim them even to unwilling ears.

  Lifting his eyes to meet hers, the prince nodded. "What you say has much merit and, to a degree, I accept what you say as true." Reaching forward to pour more tea into each of their cups, he continued. "Please understand that I brought myself here. I placed myself in exile, if you will, while you, my lady, have lived under the yoke of duty."

  "Are you trying to tell me that your personal rights and wishes supersede the obligations laid on you by your birth and heritage? I think that what you expound is the selfishness of a child who thinks that his own wants are more important and outweigh the wants and needs of those entrusted to his care!" She spoke sharply and there was a corresponding flash in his eyes that lit up his face in a way she had not observed before.

  "One can only be responsible for one's own soul, none other," he replied with equal heat. "If I have been selfish, as you term it, it is only from the point of view of those who wish me to do other than I have. If I had not been born to the parents I was, with the titles and wealth that were thrust on me, would what I have done matter that much? I think not. I don't really think it matters all that much now."

  "If you do not return, much blood will be shed."

  "From what you have told me, if I do return there is apt to be much bloodshed anyway. I do not want lives wasted over me and I cannot see that my return will end this strife. Do you really believe that the insurgents will lay down their weapons and sue for peace if I appear?"

  "Death has already taken place. Men have been betrayed and slaughtered in this cause. What I am arguing against is the breaking apart of the just and lawful system of the Pentarchy to have in its stead a collection of small warring kingdoms at the mercy of any invasion of substance to be launched from abroad or the subjugation of the Pentarchy to the will of a tyrant! You are not responsible for actions other than your own, but you should be willing to consider the effects of those actions on others." She paused to catch her breath and temper.

  The prince also seemed to be trying to collect himself before he spoke again. "Could you not return and marry as the council has bid you, to end the fighting? It seems that what they want is someone of their own choosing on the throne, and you seem willing to sacrifice yourself to your idea of 'duty'." The sarcastic edge was not missing, but it was not the thrust of his comment.

  Hollin bit back the first words that came into her mind. There was a bitter quality to his voice that she tried to analyze before replying. "I agreed to the council's proposal in order to expedite the issue of searching for you. I do not think that their solution will stop the fighting. Those who have begun the war have already committed themselves to a violent takeover."

  She took a sip of the cooled tea. "There is one more aspect that you should take into account before rejecting your heritage: the House Gifts." At the mention of the Gifts, the prince's expression became even more guarded. "One of the cornerstones of the Pentarchy has been the House Gifts of its rulers. It has largely been the knowledge of the existence of these Gifts that has kept our borders free of molestation. There are others with arcane powers in the world who avoid contending with the House Gifts and so leave us in peace. Outside of each House, the Gifts are little talked about and almost never used, but I know that all of our Gifts are somehow linked together. I wonder what the effect of a break-up of the Pentarchy or the eradication of those holding the Gifts might be?"

  His wary expression relaxed slightly as he contemplated this facet of the situation. While he sat absorbed in his own thoughts Hollin took the time to really look at the man and tried to detect what was going on behind that stern and forbidding countenance. She was not completely discouraged by their conversation thus far, though she did feel taxed and somewhat resentful of having to argue with him in order to convince him. After their first interview, when she had discovered that he was unenthusiastic, she had prepared herself for a simple yes or no, but he was proving much more complicated. She abruptly noticed that she was being subjected to the same intense scrutiny with which she had been favouring him. The look of speculation in his eyes caught her off-guard and she felt her cheeks grow hot for no reason.

  "And what will you do if I return with you?" he asked evenly.

  Confusion mingled with embarrassment coloured her over-quick response. "Use whatever power and influence I possess to aid your cause and put down the rebellion."

  His light eyes continued to study her very closely. "And our betrothal? You wear my ring openly."

  This was a question whose answer she had decided on long ago. With a certain sense of relief, she saw that he was worried by it as well. Part of her willingness to go in search of the prince was to ensure that this betrothal of her childhood be broken at the source. To allay any fears of encumbrance he might have, she rushed to tell him, "You need have no anxiety on my account. I do not consider pledges made for me by others to be binding. The handfasting ceremony between us was performed when my sister Gwyneira was heir to House Langstraad and I was but a second sister. Now that I hold the title
of Duchess of Langstraad, by the laws of the Pentarchy our ties are severed. You are free from any claim made in my name by my family." Removing the ring, she placed it in her palm and offered it to him.

  Extending his hand, he took the ring and the faintest of smiles touched his lips as he looked from her face to the ring and back. "I believe that you over-anticipate me. Let me make plain my situation. I have been many years away from my land, and a longer time away from the intrigue and politics of court life. I have had little interest or inclination in those responsibilities that you have championed to me. In truth, when I came to this place, it was with the hope that I might be lost forever to House Sandovar and the Pentarchy. I thought that perhaps my father might wed again and beget another heir, or that I had hidden myself away so well that I might never be found again. Those delusions have proved untrue and here you sit, a living symbol of my own fate.

  "I will admit freely that this betrothal between us was forced on me by my father when I was a young man. I argued actively against it and only acquiesced because I was young and the actual wedding would not be for many years and in the end might well be forgotten or come to naught. And so the ring was sent, the parents placated and I thought no more about it.

  "Several years later I led a warband into the northern lands and fell into enemy hands. I will not burden you with that tale but I spent long and difficult years in their custody." An expression of remembered pain and deep unhappiness passed through his eyes and Hollin felt an involuntary surge of sympathy for him. "When I returned home I realized that not only was there no healing to be found at my father's courts, but that I did not wish to take upon myself the responsibilities of being my father's son. So I went in search of this place of refuge where I hoped to live forgotten, as I wished to forget. A vain wish."

  He fixed her with piercingly intelligent eyes and a faint, half-mocking smile twisted his lips as he read the compassion in her face. "You are not the messenger I feared would break into my chosen world with the summons from my past. In many ways you are much more difficult to refuse or reject. I know that I am not the man you expected to find." At her start, his smile deepened into genuine amusement at having said what she would have been far too well-bred to evince. The effect was to lift the heaviness of his face, making him at once much more attractive. Having been caught out once, Hollin forbore allowing him to read her so easily again. He accepted her reticence and continued.