by Patty Jansen
“I said several times that going back is ridiculous,” Fleuris said. “I’ll say it again. I, for one, am not going to take your accusations lightly. You accuse us of disloyalty—”
“This is why I called the meeting. I want to know where you stand: with the Baron or us.”
Fleuris spread his hands. “By the heavens, woman, why don’t you see that the Baron is on our side?”
“Then why won’t he talk to any of us?”
“He doesn’t talk to women.”
“He’s not talking to you either.”
“What do you know about the meetings we’ve had with him? He has assured us that he is on our side.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“If you’re so friendly with the Baron then, I ask that you go and talk to him and ask him for assistance to return to Saardam. Because certainly, you agree we can’t stay here for the winter in this wet field, and I don’t think Florisheim has enough spare houses for us.”
He harrumphed. “All right.”
“We will meet again here next week and you’ll report what the Baron said.”
He glanced aside to Johan, whose face was impassive, and then to Ignatius, who looked like he wanted to have her for dinner. Neither said anything.
He said again, “All right. I make no promises.” Because he could make no promises, because the Baron wasn’t even in town. For all she knew, the Baron was in the palace in Saardam with Alexandre.
“I happen to think that the people of Saardam are owed some promises. They are also owed an explanation of who you think the enemy is and why exactly a foreign magician was given the opportunity, encouragement even, to burn much of our home town.”
He gave her a hard stare.
“Also, I want someone to find out who destroyed the shrine to Celine. Like you, I am unhappy about its existence, but there is no need to disturb the people further. We will also contact anyone who can shed light on the appearance of this ghost, and will talk to people who may know about King Nicholaos’ involvement in dark magic. The Magician’s Guild in Florisheim will probably know more about Alexandre Trebuchet and his masters.”
They looked uneasy, but Johanna had enough of being dictated by these men only to be waiting for things they said they’d do but never did. She’d probably made a number of enemies, but they were never going to be friends in the first place.
She was fully prepared to go to the Magician’s Guild herself, but at least she had notified them about her intentions and reasons for doing so.
They broke up the meeting, and one or two people actually called her Your Majesty. Not any of the nobles, though. But they had stopped calling her just a merchant girl. That was progress of a kind.
The meeting broke up and Johanna left the shed with Master Deim.
“I don’t like the thought of asking for magical assistance,” he said, while walking along the riverbank.
“I wish we could get by without it, too, but we have little choice. We have to act. I hate just sitting here and waiting for something to happen. I wanted to train Loesie as court magician, but she doesn’t want to have anything to do with magic. I think we need a court magician, or someone to advise us on the subject of magic,” she added, after remembering what Magda had said about court magicians being jesters.
He nodded again. “Yes, probably.”
“Where would I find a person like that? I thought you were going to make some inquiries?”
“I was, but—”
But what he was going to say would have to wait, because a young boy came running up the path. “Look, look, Your Majesty, what I’ve found. Mother said to show it to you.”
From his fist dangled a golden chain on which hung the medallion with the symbol of the Triune. The last time she had seen this it was on Shepherd Carolus’ neck.
Johanna took it from him. The chain had broken and parts of the medallion were covered in dark mud.
“Where did you find this?”
“In the grass on the edge of the forest.”
Johanna’s heart jumped. “Can you show me?”
Chapter 15
* * *
JOHANNA AND Master Deim followed the boy, and one of Johan Delacoeur’s guards came as well. As they crossed the camp, several people noticed that something was going on and they followed at a distance.
The boy’s name was Gijsbert, and he was the son of one of the merchants in the camp. While he led them across the camp, across the road on the other side and down a narrow track towards the forest, he chatted incessantly about how he and his friends had been playing on the haystack when he found the Shepherd’s medallion. Of the Shepherd himself, he had seen no trace.
Squalls of wind made Johanna shiver, even though it was quite warm. Master Deim looked uneasy, too.
The path ran between two paddocks. One contained a couple of horses that were trotting around tossing their heads and with their tails held up so that the soft part of the tail flowed behind like a banner.
“What are those crazy horses doing?” the guard muttered behind Johanna.
But she knew what disturbed the animals: they were much more sensitive to magic than people.
The dark forest loomed at the far end of those paddocks, mostly oaks trees with dense foliage and dark canopies.
The sun chose that time to disappear behind the building clouds. A gust of wind made the leaves rustle in soft whispers. Ghosts waited in that forest. Waited and prowled, ready to pounce on anyone who dared step into their domain.
Gijsbert ran ahead.
Johanna fought the urge to yell at him to come back, to stay with the rest of the group. What business did Shepherd Carolus have in that forest anyway?
At the boundary between the field and the forest stood a wooden barn with one open side. A multitude of cart tracks led through and around the puddles in front of it. This appeared to be where a lot of the hay and straw had come from.
“This is where I found it,” the boy said, pointing at the ground.
There was nothing much to be seen except mud and tracks: deep ruts from wagon wheels and churned-up mud from horse hooves.
Everyone in the group walked around for a bit, examining the ground.
“This is the most recent one,” the guard said, kneeling. He pointed at a set of tracks that led not back to the road, but into the forest.
The forest that surrounded the group on three sides was full of whispering leaves. The sky had gone leaden grey over the tree line.
Slowly, Johanna walked to the closest tree. She put her hand on the trunk.
The gloominess in the forest disappeared and was replaced with dappled sunlight falling through the trees. There was the clop-clop-clop of horse’s hooves and a cart came past. The driver wore a dark brown cloak with the hood draped over his shoulders. He had an unusually heavy brow and his dark hair fell loose over his shoulders. The man next to him was Shepherd Carolus. As the cart passed, the Shepherd looked over his shoulder directly at the tree, as if he knew that Johanna could see him. He moved his mouth like a fish on land, but Johanna couldn’t make out words.
The driver flicked the reins and the horse took off. The back of the driver’s hood had an embroidered symbol that she hadn’t seen before: a yellow key.
* * *
The Baroness Viktoriya sat down on the couch with a sigh. She had accompanied Johanna to a garden room with doors and windows along one side. The flowers in the castle garden outside looked bedraggled from the rain.
“Unfortunately, my husband is not at home, so I will help you, right?”
She was wearing a dark green dress today and a black vest, a sombre ensemble without lace, which, apart from the rather low neckline, would not look out of place in church in Saardam. The only spot of brightness was a gold and jade brooch that held her shawl in place. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head, held in place by a hair net with tiny glass beads.
They were both silent while a maid brought some tea and a plate wi
th dainty little cakes. She set a cup on a little table next to Johanna. The brew was dark and smelled sweet.
“Thank you for seeing me,” Johanna said. “I’m sorry for imposing on your time.”
“Oh, don’t be so modest. Of course I make time to help my friend. Do help yourself to some cakes.”
“But you’re obviously busy.” She wasn’t too sure that she’d call the Baroness a friend either. But she did take a cake from the plate.
“Pfa.” The Baroness flapped her hand. “Busy, busy. It’s always busy. My husband spend so much time away lately, is getting really tiresome. So much work to be done! Harvest fields, sell geldings, move cattle . . . is all boring. I have to check, check, check all the time that everything gets done. Then it rain, rain and rain and people have to check the water mills and take hay to other barn, and . . .” She sighed heavily. “And my son is no help. I don’t even know where he is. Gallivanting with his friends from across river, I guess, but I wish he grow up. I want a woman in family. That’s why I invite your wedding at castle. I get best cooks. Hans Salter and his music troupe will play. There will be much dancing. I have big feast so my son will see what a wedding is like. Maybe he get jealous, he wants a wedding, too.”
Knowing what she knew about Kylian, she doubted it.
“I’m sure you’re doing your best, and thank you so much.” And now she felt guilty for not wanting the festivities in the Baron’s big hall. The Baroness was doing a lot of work for this ceremony, and obviously, she led a very lonely life.
A young man in the Baron’s red livery came into the room, but stopped when he saw Johanna.
He said something and the Baroness replied, her tone somewhat annoyed. Then he bowed and left the room.
“I see you’re busy,” Johanna said. “I won’t take much of your time. In all truth, I didn’t come here to talk about the wedding.”
“Oh?” The delicately painted eyebrows went up. “I like talking about wedding. We must talk about guests. I’ve made a long list of people to invite.”
Johanna had been afraid of that. “I’m very sorry to have to mention this to you, but one of our people went missing from the camp yesterday. I was wondering if you could offer any assistance in finding him.”
“How dreadful. What happened?”
Johanna told her of the Shepherd’s absence and the chain they had found and the fact that he had been taken away in a cart. She described the cart driver’s cloak and the symbol of the key on the back of the hood. She had drawn it on a piece of paper that she had taken from Roald’s desk.
While she spoke, the Baroness’ eyes widened. “But that is just awful. If my husband was here, he’d come and help you find this man personally and punish those who abducted him.”
“Do you know which group uses this symbol?” Johanna held up the paper.
The Baroness squinted at it. “No. Have not seen that before.”
“I’d be happy if you could lend me some people to help us ask around in town.” A group of men had gone into town that morning, but had not found any sign of the Shepherd, nor of the shoemaker he was supposed to have gone to see. But they’d run into trouble because some of the townsfolk were suspicious about their presence, which was why she needed the Baroness’ help.
“I will send some men, definitely. I’ll see to it as soon as you leave this room. They will go through entire town and will not leave a house unvisited. They will find this man.”
“Thank you so much.” Johanna would have preferred if the Baroness just lent her someone who could explain to the townsfolk who they were looking for, but she guessed it would be impolite to complain.
So she drank tea and listened to the Baroness’ plans for the wedding. Both the tea and cakes were really sweet to the point of making her feel a bit queasy. This room was strangely luxurious compared to the austerity of the rest of the castle and a world away from her little room in the Lady Sara’s hold.
They discussed dresses and food and guests, most of whom Johanna didn’t know. She didn’t want to ask if Duke Lothar and his son would be there, but she guessed not if history was anything to go by. She wanted to go back to the camp, but didn’t want to be rude. The Baroness just kept talking and talking and didn’t give Johanna an opportunity to leave. The wooden armrests of her chair told her that noble townsfolk visited this room often and that there would be much tea and chatter, all in the dialect, sadly, so Johanna had no idea what they talked about. Meanwhile she still tried to steer the discussion to more useful subjects.
“I’m a bit worried about what happens after the wedding. Because much as we appreciate your hospitality, winter is coming and we need more permanent quarters—”
“Oh, but you can stay longer. Plenty of room for you in castle.”
“Thank you very much, but I would prefer to return home. Maybe some people would like to make further use of your hospitality, but many of us have family in Saardam that we’re worried about. We should return home. I and my husband should return.”
“I understand.” She gave Johanna a sympathetic look, but said nothing further.
“But I don’t want to return to a dangerous situation. Do you have any more news from Saardam?”
“No more than what you already know. It will be dangerous to go there, I’d say.”
“We sent some scouts to see for ourselves what was going on, but they haven’t yet returned. Has your husband said anything about what is going on there?”
“Dear, my husband is barely ever home, and he does not talk about politics to me. He knows I’m not interested.”
“Do you know Alexandre?” Johanna promised herself that she would never be one of those women “not interested” in the dealings of men with power.
“He is a most snivelling man,” the Baroness said. “I like him not at all.” She wrinkled her nose as if an unpleasant smell wafted past.
“Does your husband like him?”
She laughed. “What do you think? That he would make serious discussions with this little man?”
“He has rather a lot of magic.”
“Bah, it’s fire magic—all spectacle.”
“To the citizens of Saardam, it certainly wasn’t just a spectacle.” Johanna couldn’t help letting some anger seep into her voice.
“I do apologise. It was terrible for you. But fire magic is nothing. Not important. Setting fire to a city, it is what cowards do. I could do it. He think he is important, but he is not.”
“He seems to think a lot of your husband.”
“Yes, but only because he is a snivelling little man. I said to my husband many times to shut him up. Not to listen to him. This man is up to no good, I’d say, but my husband, he is stubborn. One day, this priest might be useful, he’d say. So he invite Alexandre here, in our own castle. And I have to make talk with him, and be polite to him while he behave like a drunk ship’s boy.”
Johanna had visions of rowdy fests in the big hall with its many long tables and benches. A Shepherd of the Church of the Triune would never come to an occasion like that. The church abhorred overt displays of wealth. Shepherds dressed plainly. The citizens coming to church dressed in their best clothes that were still modest.
“And he is a dirty little man, too. I wanted to slap him in the face all the time he tries to put his hands up my dress.”
She felt a jab of sympathy for the Baroness. “Oh dear, that sounds awful.”
“Nothing as awful as what happened to you, but yes, it was quite dreadful.”
“Why do you think he went to Saardam?”
The Baroness spread her hands. “If we knew, it would be the end of troubles. Maybe he want money. Maybe he want blond-haired girls. Maybe he want ships. I don’t know.” The baroness sighed. “Let’s leave that for the men to solve. One more thing about the wedding. I would like the Holy Father Lucius to conduct the ceremony, but I don’t think you are baptised.”
“No.” There was a small Belaman Church building in Saardam, if it was still t
here, but Johanna didn’t know many people who attended services there. Mistress Daphne was one, and a few other foreigners.
“You would need to become a member of the church.”
No way. Just no way. If there was to be a ceremony, Shepherd Carolus would conduct it—after they found out where he was. “But I think I am already a member of your church? Aren’t we all part of the same church?”
The Baroness gave her a sharp look. “My dear, you haven’t heard?”
“Heard what?”
The Baroness raised her hand to her mouth. “You really haven’t heard about the Most Holy Father’s decree?”
“No, I don’t think so.” That would be the Most Holy Father Severino of the Belaman Church.
“Well . . . he decreed that there were . . . differences between the holy scriptures as understood by us and as interpreted by your Shepherd. Differences that needed . . . investigation.” She frowned and then her expression cleared. “An inquisition. That’s it. And he had the results of the inquisition.”
“And that means?”
“I don’t know how to say precisely in words of the church, but it means that the Church founded by Brother Romulus is no longer welcome as part of the Belaman Church.”
Chapter 16
* * *
IN ONE HIT, Johanna finally understood the cause of all the problems. While Saardam had fallen under the Belaman Church, the church fathers had thought of the Shepherd Romulus as an eccentric. Now that it was no longer part of the Belaman Church, the Church of the Triune was a threat. The Shepherds were a threat. They helped common people who ended up liking the Shepherds for that reason. They won the respect of citizens that way. All the citizens, not just the nobles who could buy sympathy from the church. They did not insist on donations by the wealthy, who expected special services in return, and did not flaunt wealth. And that frightened the leadership of the Belaman Church, because there were so many more common people than there were nobles.
