by Patty Jansen
“What are you talking about?”
“Get away from me!”
Johanna slid back off the hold cover. Loesie went back to her previous position, with her arms wrapped around her legs. No amount of coaxing could bring her down.
“I don’t understand,” Nellie said. “She was doing so well.”
“I don’t think she was ever completely cured from that demon,” Johanna said. “She never went back to the way she used to be. I’m sure you remember that she always spoke with a strong dialect and that she always used magic to scare boys in the marketplace.”
“Yes, I do remember. Thankfully, she stopped that.”
“It’s not as simple as that. You can’t just learn to speak differently overnight. The demon changed her personality. It’s still changing her.”
That brought a chill and neither of them said anything for a while.
“What can we do about it?” Nellie finally said in a low voice.
“Nothing. Wait until she calms down. Go to your cabin. Maybe she’ll be fine once we stop fussing over her. There is not much point in arguing with her in this state.”
Nellie turned, and then looked over her shoulder.
“Mistress Johanna, do you think she could be dangerous?”
“I don’t know, Nellie. I really don’t know.”
Johanna felt guilty letting Nellie go back to the cabin alone. Maybe she would have to let Nellie sleep in the hold away from Loesie, but that would mean that she and Roald would lose whatever privacy they had. Somehow, that suddenly seemed important, that little home they had made for themselves.
She descended the stairs in that familiar, somewhat musty, smell of the hold. Roald sat at his desk, drawing a frog which he had caught in a glass jar. The drawing was so beautiful and detailed that she forgot all her objections about no frogs in our bedroom.
Roald was pleased that she liked it and from one thing came another. They moved from the desk to the bed. With all the worry about Shepherd Carolus and Loesie, she didn’t care about doing it the right way, and she sat on him because she much preferred it this way. And something else happened that she had not experienced before. A lot of the time when she was with Roald, she would feel that there ought to be more to it, and that it seemed unfair that just he found it pleasurable. In fact, some of the books suggested that the woman should find pleasure, too. That experience of intimate pleasure crept up on her unnoticed, grabbed hold of her and took her so much by surprise that she cried out, perhaps a bit too loud. Roald thought it was so interesting that he probed her soft flesh with his fingers until it happened again, and then he wanted to do it a third time, but she was a bit sore and tired, and there was sticky seed everywhere.
Tomorrow, she said, and he was happy with that.
Before drifting off to sleep, she realised that she had forgotten to drink the raspberry leaf tea.
Chapter 14
* * *
JOHANNA WAS WAKENED by rustling noises in the hold. They’d had mice in the room before, but this sounded bigger and too close for comfort. She got out of bed and found that last night they had forgotten that the frog still sat in the glass jar. During the darkest part of the night, it obviously remained quiet, but now it was rustling around in the leaves, trying to climb out of the jar. Poor thing.
Much as she disliked frogs, and she disliked them less since Roald had explained all about their strange life cycles, she didn’t think it would be very happy in the jar, so she took the jar up to the deck of the ship—
And found that the morning dawned with mist rising out of the river. The sky above was pale blue, but all around, mist shrouded the land.
A bite to the air heralded the coming of autumn. The guards stood huddled in their cloaks. Loesie had evidently decided to go to bed well before midnight, because the hold cover was empty and the dew had coated the timber covers evenly with no trace that anyone had been there recently.
Johanna went down the gangplank carrying the jar. The guards gave her strange looks but said nothing.
She waded through the tall grass to the water and upended the jar. With a giant leap, the frog went splash into the water, leaving ripples as it went below the surface.
She was about to turn back and ask the guards if by chance they had heard whether Shepherd Carolus had returned when there were alarmed voices from further downstream.
Johanna’s heart beat faster. That was coming from the direction of the shrine. The apparition of Celine hadn’t shown itself since that day the boys had seen her. Johanna had hoped that it had been a one-time appearance, some magician’s idea of a joke, but had always known that hope was for fools.
Johanna made her way around the reed bed walking as fast as she could without running.
A number of people stood there, staring at the water. People shrank back to make a wide path to let Johanna through to the water’s edge. They said nothing. Mothers pulled children out of her path.
The platform on top of the post had been smashed; the flowers and the little crude statue were gone. Scraps of wood lay between the reeds along the swollen river. Someone had stomped all over the offerings laid out on the riverbank. Big, booted footsteps over crushed flowers.
“Does anyone know who did this?” Johanna asked.
Fearful silence was her only response, a crowd of pale faces and wide eyes.
After a while, a little boy said, “This is how we found it this morning.”
His mother shushed him.
“Did anyone see people here?”
Now another boy said, “We were out playing this morning, and we saw no one.” This boy’s mother tried to shush him, too, but he turned to her and said, loud enough for Johanna to hear, “What? I’m telling the truth. We saw no one.”
Johanna addressed the adults. “What is going on here? Do any of you know who did this?”
People shook their heads, but no one said anything.
“Wait. Does anyone think I did this?”
There were some more shakes of heads, most not very convincing. Some people looked away.
A woman fell to her knees in the grass.
“Celine! Speak to us! This is not our fault. Please forgive us.”
Another was crying as well, wailing like a young child.
These were nobles, people who normally prided themselves on being business-like, sensible people who tut-tutted if someone displayed overt emotions. The same people who had ridiculed King Nicholaos for being incapacitated with grief at his daughter’s funeral.
“I assure you that I had nothing to do with this act of destruction. I will do everything I can to find out who did this.”
The looks that met hers seemed to be of pity more than anger.
Wait—had someone destroyed the shrine because they wanted to make her unpopular? She knew who might do something like that.
Johanna hurried along the riverbank to the camp. She had enough and was going to get to the bottom of this despicable act.
* * *
Ignatius Hemeldinck stayed with the family of Johan Delacoeur. They were well-prepared, with sturdy tents. This part of the camp was also higher up the riverbank and not as muddy as the lower areas. Again, the men of power looked after themselves well enough. Never mind the sick and very young people, and the school, where Julianna worked in a tent where the floor consisted of muddy straw.
She ran up to the tent and announced herself with a loud, “Hullo!” as she would normally do when visiting warehouses for her Father. She had not come here to be polite.
An old man pushed the tent flap aside.
“I’d like to speak to Ignatius Hemeldinck.”
“Wait here, missy.”
He let the fabric drop.
Missy? She was married to their legal king. What did he think he was that he could call her that? In fact, what did all of these pompous idiots think they were doing?
The sound of male voices came from inside the tent and not much later the man himse
lf pushed the tent flap aside.
His eyebrows rose.
Johanna launched straight into the problem. “This morning the shrine to Celine was destroyed.” Johanna had to do her best to keep her tone civilised.
He gave her a yes, and? look.
“Do you know who was involved?”
“Pray, why should I know?” In that usual dumb woman tone of his. “Ask some of those ratbag boys. They probably know more.”
“You wouldn’t happen to have told them to destroy it?”
“Why should I do that?” He half-turned, as if the conversation was over, as if she wasn’t worth his time, and to be honest, that was probably what he thought about her all along.
“I will explain it to you.” Now she definitely let her anger colour her voice.
He gave her a mildly surprised look.
“You may not remember it, but you said you wanted the shrine taken away when it first went up. You wanted to, in your own words, remove the whole damn thing overnight and you didn’t seem to care much about what the people would have to say about that, because they were only women.”
“For a merchant girl, you’re starting to become incredibly irritating.”
That was it. She was through with the lot of them. “I do not appreciate talk like that. I’m still married to your rightful king, and I’m starting to think you are setting up a plot against my husband. Maybe all of this is part of that plan. Engaging your magic friends to create ghosts that look like Celine—”
He opened his mouth—
“No, don’t tell me that there isn’t any magic. This place is stiff with magic. This town is full of magicians. Don’t blame me for destroying the shrine. Don’t address me like I’m your daughter because I am not.” She hated this man so much. Him, and Fleuris LaFontaine and Octavio Nieland who was said to have joined the occupiers. These were not men who cared for the citizens of Saardam. They didn’t even care about their families. These men only cared about themselves.
He looked taken aback, a puzzled frown on his face.
Johanna went on, “Next time we have a council meeting, you will apologise to Roald for the things you said about him.”
“Do stop making such a spectacle of yourself. Look at it, everyone has come out to watch.” Indeed, a lot of people had come out of the surrounding tents.
“So, I am ‘making a spectacle of myself’ when I protest about you constantly ignoring me, belittling me and acting as if I’m stupid. I’ve had enough of this behaviour. I will not be talked down to! You will either listen to me or Roald, or I will no longer consider you loyal to the royal family.”
He laughed, but his expression was uneasy. He glanced around at all the onlookers, meeting the eyes of one group behind Johanna in particular. Johanna glanced over her shoulder. Julianna Nieland stood there with Captain Arense’s wife and three sons.
Ignatius bowed, equally uneasy. “As you wish, lady.”
“Your Majesty.” Johanna disliked pomp, but it seemed the only thing that would impress these men.
“Your Majesty.” It sounded like his words came through gritted teeth.
Good. There would probably be trouble about this later, but she had tried being friendly with them, and it had failed.
“I shall now call a meeting of the council. I will inform you what we are going to do to return to Saardam, to reinstate Roald in the palace, to rebuild the palace, and drive the invaders out. You are free to advise us. Unless you wish me to go ahead with my plans without informing you.”
Johanna whirled around and met the eyes of a bunch of women standing in the entrance to the next tent. She didn’t know them by name, but they were all smiling. Oh yes, there was support for her in the camp. The women, the quiet and civilised men, the merchants. She just needed to give these people the courage to act.
* * *
Not much later, the Council of Nobles convened in the boat shed. It was not their usual meeting time, and Fleuris LaFontaine had to be hunted down from some place in town. He came into the boat shed muttering and protesting and sat down at the table with a heavy sigh.
His face was red from the wine he had evidently consumed with his midday meal.
Johanna had thought it wise to let Roald stay at the Lady Sara. He’d been teaching some boys how to catch butterflies without damaging them, and had gotten wet. He had sticks in his hair and smudges on his cheeks and, when she called, had looked at her with such disappointment that she couldn’t bring herself to drag him along to a meeting, let alone one where tempers were sure to get heated. He hated it when people raised their voices, because he didn’t understand that they weren’t talking to him. He might start fidgeting, laughing or screaming, and that would be unacceptable.
So she had watched him trundle back into the reeds with his butterfly net, wishing she could be with him. Instead, she had changed into in her best dress, put on the necklace, brooch and earrings that she had brought from Duke Lothar’s castle—much as she hated wearing other people’s property—and then went to look for Nellie to put up her hair.
She couldn’t find Nellie or Loesie and concluded that they were probably looking after the laundry, so she did her own hair and asked her guard escorts to walk her to the boat shed. Johanna was nervous and her insides squirmed, giving her cramps in her stomach. She took up the position at the head of the table that would normally be Roald’s.
Johan Delacoeur gave her a look icy enough to make water freeze. He was a powerful man, an ex-army general with connections in armies all around the low lands. In their return to Saardam, he would be an asset, if she could win his support, no matter how reluctantly given. If.
Master Deim smiled at her from the other end of the table, which made her feel a bit more confident. Shepherd Carolus was still absent, reminding her of another painful problem that needed to be solved. That meant that she was down two supporters in the council.
Now that she’d called this meeting, there was no going back, so she might as well jump in before she lost control of the moment.
“I’ve called you here, because I want to ascertain your loyalty. I want all of you to swear loyalty to the royal family. When that is done, I want your honesty about your plans for the future of all those camping in this field. We cannot stay here over winter and I want to return to Saardam with whoever will come.”
Fleuris made scoffing noises. “Well, I don’t know that it’s safe—”
“Staying here is safe? Where every time it rains, water rises into the lower areas of the camp, bringing filth and disease? Where our citizens are assailed by magic, seeing ghosts, being struck with apathy? I know that many of you are not aware of this, but this town soaks in magic, and someone or something is waiting to pounce on us. Whoever it is, they know who we are. They know about Roald. But every time I’ve raised the issue of returning home, you have tried to push it aside, tried to ignore or deflect it—”
Fleuris LaFontaine said, “If you want the truth of it, Alexandre uses filthy magic, that’s why.”
“Then why haven’t you tried to find a magician to deal with him for us?”
He snorted.
“All of the courts around here have magicians.” She looked around the table, meeting a collection of hard stares.
“I will tell you why. Because some of you have made a deal with the Baron. You didn’t like the influence the Church of the Triune was having on the people and on your royal family. Some time long before the fire, some of you came here to ask for help, where you have friends, and the Baron suggested that he knew a way to get rid of this church for you. He sent Alexandre Trebuchet who adores the Baron so much that he’d eat dirt if the Baron asked him. But things got very much out of hand for you, because I doubt you knew about fire magic, and I doubt you asked for the whole of Saardam to be set on fire, but you could not control or stop him, especially since some of your peers joined Alexandre. So you came here because your main reason was to complain to the Baron. He has allowed you to camp in this fiel
d and made you feel important and welcome, but now he won’t listen to you anymore, because you served his purpose.”
There were several gasps around the table.
At the same time Johan shouted, “Nonsense!” Fleuris shouted, “And what purpose would that be?”
Ignatius said nothing and looked distinctly uncomfortable and Master Deim’s eyes were so big that they were in danger of tumbling from their sockets.
All of which told her that she was right about all her assumptions.
Johanna remained quiet and let the men rage.
While Johan heaped protest on protest, going Whatever do you think you are? and Do you know what the Baron has done for us? and You have no right to be so ungrateful to our best friend, Fleuris fell silent and eventually Johan ran out of protests to hurl at her. He crossed his arms over his chest and breathed through flaring nostrils. His face had gone red.
Because I’m right, and he doesn’t like the way the Baron ignores him either.
When the nobles had fallen into an angry silence, she said, “There are a number of things we can do.”
Captain Arense rarely spoke in these meetings, but he said, “Have you talked to the Baron?” His soft and civilised voice made everyone look at him.
“I have tried to. I have spoken to the Baroness several times, but I don’t think there is a point in talking to the Baron. Even if we manage to get an audience, he will continue to ignore us. He clearly thinks that he has better things to do than listen to our complaints. We don’t need him to return to our own city.”
They didn’t even need the Baroness’ help in organising the wedding. They didn’t need the Baron’s prying guests at what was a Saarlander ceremony.
“We need an army,” Mayor Joris DeCamp said.
Johan Delacoeur snorted.
Johanna said, “I’m not even sure that an army would do much good against magic.” They needed stealth. They needed to disguise themselves as peasants. They needed to come into the city one by one, like farmers going to the markets. Loesie could help with that. They also needed magicians.
