Master of Dragons
Page 36
The gates opened, and with a flourish of trumpets, the women of Seth left Idylswylde and headed back for their homeland.
Ven, running alongside the chariots, turned to wave at Marcus, who lifted his hand. His heart went with two he’d come to love. Sadly, Marcus turned around and nearly fell over Draconas.
“My God, you startled me! Where have you been?” Marcus greeted the Walker with warmth. “I haven’t seen you since that day you knocked me out.”
“Good thing I did, too, or Maristara would have made mincemeat of your brain. As it is, it seems that the lovely young priestess has done just that.”
Marcus laughed. “Anna is beautiful, isn’t she? We’re going to be married in a month’s time.”
“I am glad for you,” said Draconas. “Though your lives will not be easy. You both have dragon-blood in your veins. You know what your children will face.”
“We know,” said Marcus somberly. “We have talked of it. Still,” he added, cheering up, “if we have a boy, I will ask you to come take him to the riverbank to teach him the magic.”
He had hoped to make the dragon smile at the memory of another small boy who had learned the magic by the side of the river. Draconas shook his head.
“You will have to teach your son yourself, Marcus. My days as a walker are nearly at an end. I came to tell you goodbye. My people are at war and my place is with them. I am working to bring about peace, but I am not hopeful.”
“We may soon be at war ourselves,” said Marcus. “When Anna and I are married, our first task will be to try to enter Dragonkeep to open negotiations. But I am not hopeful, either. They have been taught to hate us.”
“They aren’t the only ones who have been taught hate,” Draconas remarked.
“True,” said Marcus, thinking of Ven. “The blame lies with us, as well.”
Draconas held out his hand. “Farewell, Your Highness. A last word of advice—stay out of that little room. You’re needed in this world. You should not be trespassing in ours.”
“Yet, I would like to go there sometimes,” said Marcus quietly. “To dream the dreams of dragons.”
And perhaps, he thought as he watched Draconas walk away, his boots dust-covered and worn down at the heels, that was all it had been.
A dream of dragons.
He watched Draconas until the dragon was lost to sight, walking down the road, and the gates of the palace had shut upon him.
EPILOGUE
A FORTNIGHT AFTER THE ASSAULT ON IDYLSWYLDE, WHEN LIFE IN the city had almost returned to normal, a secret trial was held inside the castle of the king.
Long after darkness had fallen, the prisoner was removed from her room, where she’d been held under strict guard, and taken to King Edward’s private study. Four guards escorted the prisoner, and her hands were bound, for she was being tried on the charge of murder.
Evelina came before the king with her head held high, her jaw firm, though her dreams hung about her in shreds and tatters. She had awakened one morning a week ago to find her mattress soaked in blood—proof that she was not pregnant. She had tried to hide the evidence from Axe-Face, who had returned, much to Evelina’s ire. That, however, had been impossible.
After that, everything had gone wrong. Evelina had planned to retrieve the goblet that she had given to Lady Izabelle and rinse it out before anyone had a chance to examine it. The startling and unexpected turn of events of that day had so rattled her that she forgot about the goblet until it was too late. When she went to find it, the goblet was gone.
One of the Queen’s knights, with great presence of mind, had picked up the goblet from the floor and secreted it inside a chest in his room. He had later presented it to the king, who gave it to the royal physician, who performed his tests and stated that, in his expert opinion, the wine had been poisoned. Now, Evelina faced the very real possibility of being hanged.
Yet, she kept her head high as she listened to the prosecuting lawyer recount the evidence before the king.
“Your Majesty, you have heard three witnesses here swear under oath that they saw Mistress Evelina pour the wine from the pitcher into three goblets—one which she gave to Her Majesty, one which she kept for herself, and one which she gave to the Lady Izabelle,” the lawyer related, his tone stern and cold.
“According to these men, no one touched the goblets other than Mistress Evelina. You have heard the testimony of the herbalist who has identified Mistress Evelina as the purchaser of the poison a few days prior to the murder, using this ring”—the lawyer held up a ruby—”to pay for it. The ring has been identified as belonging to one of Her Majesty’s ladies-in-waiting. In addition, we have recovered several other valuables that had gone missing in the young woman’s room.”
Evelina remained defiant, a faint smile of disdain on her lips. Her attitude appeared to exasperate the King. Edward’s expression hardened.
The lawyer held up an object.
“We also found there a half-filled vial containing more poison secreted beneath her mattress.”
That was foolish, Evelina admitted. She should have thrown it out. The dream of feeding it to Axe-Face had been too dear to let go. The lawyer was still talking. Evelina stifled a yawn.
The lawyer called for Gunderson to take the stand.
The elderly retainer limped forward.
“Tell us, Master Gunderson, what you discovered about Mistress Evelina’s background.”
“She is the daughter of a petty thief and pickpocket known as Ramone, last seen leaving the city of Fairefield in company with a troupe of ne’er-do-well actors under the leadership of a scoundrel called Glimmershanks. This troupe and the young woman’s father have since disappeared.”
Evelina clenched her jaw and stood unmoving.
Gunderson sighed and rubbed his chin. “There is no doubt, Your Majesty, that the prince’s . . . er . . . half brother knows the truth about this young woman and how she happened to be in Dragonkeep, but Ven refused to answer any of my questions, saying only that he was at fault for what had happened to her and he would not say anything against her.”
Evelina tapped her foot, waiting impatiently for her chance to speak.
Gunderson bowed and stepped back.
The lawyer continued. “As to motive, Mistress Evelina was known to be jealous of the Lady Izabelle, for her betrothal to Prince Marcus. Both this serving girl and the cook have given witness to that.” The lawyer bowed and concluded.
“Mistress Evelina,” King Edward spoke sternly, “you face death by hanging if this charge of murder is found to be true and we find the evidence against you overwhelming. Do you have anything to say in your own defense?”
“I do, Your Majesty,” said Evelina. “I did not poison the Lady Izabelle.”
Before the king could say a word, she added coolly, “I poisoned the dragon.
“I knew all along that the so-called lady was a dragon, Your Majesty,” Evelina continued. “I learned about such monsters when I was held prisoner in Dragonkeep. I know I should have told someone, but I feared no one would believe me. So I concluded I had to deal with her myself. It was the least I could do, seeing that you had all been so kind to me, Your Majesty.”
A tear slid down her cheek.
“I saved your lives,” Evelina said with a catch in her voice. “I saved your kingdom, Your Majesty. And for that I must die! But first,” she added, raising her head with a flash in her eye, “I’ll tell what I know from the scaffold. I’ll proclaim the truth about your son!”
“Our people already know the truth about Prince Marcus, Mistress,” said Edward. “We have no secrets from them, now, and neither does our son. And we find it difficult to believe your story that you penetrated the dragon’s disguise. However”—his mouth twitched—”we can’t prove it.”
He was silent a moment, regarding her grimly, and, despite herself, her heart beat fast.
At last he said, “You will not hang, Mistress Evelina.”
She felt her knees g
o weak with relief, and true tears flooded her eyes. She had not realized, until that moment, how frightened she was.
“But we cannot in good conscience unleash you upon an unsuspecting public. Therefore we have decided that you will be escorted, under guard, to the Abbey of the blessed Saint Elizabeth, there to spend the rest of your days in prayer and penitence.”
Evelina’s jaw dropped. “A nun!” she repeated, shocked. “I’m to become a nun!”
“If God will have you,” said Edward dryly. “Which we much doubt. Whether you take the veil or not is entirely up to you, Mistress. You will be a prisoner in the Abbey, well-guarded, day and night, by the Abbess, who is, we understand, a woman of extremely strong character. You will remain there under penalty of death. If you should escape—and we must tell you that the Abbey is located in mountainous terrain and is, further, extremely isolated—you will be hunted down, and the sentence of death will be immediately carried out. Do you understand?”
“I would rather be hanged!” Evelina cried.
“That is, of course, your choice, Mistress,” said the king gravely, and thus ended the trial.
In the end, Evelina did not choose to be hanged. She was Ramone’s daughter, and so long as there is life there is hope. The more she thought about it, the better this sounded. She had no doubt but that she would be able to seduce her guards and that one or more of them would help her escape. She had her charms and the golden necklace that she had stolen from the dragon, which she’d managed to squirrel away so that not even Axe-Face had discovered it.
Unfortunately for Evelina, she had to revise her plans almost immediately. Her guards turned out to be women—the warrior women of Seth. Having learned that Evelina had poisoned one woman affianced to Prince Marcus, the warriors were more than glad to take on the task of escorting this dangerous female to her prison. Evelina was not above attempting to seduce one of the women, but that proved a failure. None of them so much as glanced at her the entire journey.
Hope dimmed still further when she found out that when the king said the Abbey was isolated, he meant isolated. She and her guards traveled for weeks on end through thick forests, with nary a town or village in sight. Wolves and bears and wildcats prowled the woods at night. Evelina counted ten snakes crossing her path. She thought of trying to make this journey on her own, roaming the vast wilderness defenseless, with no food, and her heart sank.
They arrived at the Abbey in a snowstorm. Evelina was frozen clear through. Her toes and fingers had gone numb. It hurt her to walk, and she was forced to hobble her way over the frozen ground. The Abbey was an enormous building made of stone quarried from the mountain. It was surrounded by a high wall, penetrated by only a single gate, that was barred from the inside. The bar was so heavy that four of the stoutest sisters were required to lift it, and it was only opened when someone needed to enter.
The warrior woman escorted Evelina safely inside, then left her to her fate. Evelina, clutching a little sack containing her belongings, including the golden locket, stood shivering in the courtyard.
The sisters took Evelina to a windowless cell with a mattress in it and nothing else. She was told that this was her room. The cell was nearly as cold as outdoors, and Evelina resigned herself to freezing to death. She lay in bed, huddled beneath a thin blanket, and wished she’d opted for hanging. One of the sisters appeared. She took Evelina to a warming room, where there was a fire. The sisters gave her food and drink, plain but filling, and undergarments over which went robes made of heavy black cloth.
I must look like a crow in this black garb, Evelina thought dismally.
Then she realized that there were no men about to see her, so it really didn’t matter what she looked like. She snuggled gratefully into the habit that was, at least, warm.
The sisters took her, at last, to see the Abbess.
The Abbess was in her late forties, stout, well-educated, strong-willed, and determined.
Standing before the woman, her hands folded in her sleeves, her eyes lowered, Evelina pretended to listen as the sonorous voice of the Abbess laid down the law and handed out the rules that were, from now on, to define Evelina’s life. All the while Evelina was casting oblique glances from beneath her eyelashes around the room.
The quarters of the Abbess were simply furnished, but appeared sumptuous compared to those of the other nuns. A fire burned on the hearth, making the room cozy. The bed had a mattress of goose down, not of straw. There were chairs and a writing desk, and the Abbess had her own secretary to handle her correspondence, for—Evelina would come to learn—the Abbess was a power in the church in this part of the world.
Evelina had been doing some hard thinking. The sisters, though they might labor and toil in the fields and around the Abbey, appeared to be healthy and well-fed. Having gone to bed hungry more than once in her life, Evelina appreciated the value of always having enough to eat. Inside the Abbey, she was safe and protected. She had her own room. True, there were drawbacks-one of them being a great deal of time that she would have to spend on her knees in prayer, the other that there were no men. But prayers were easily said, and as for men, what had they ever brought her but trouble?
Looking at the Abbess, Evelina saw herself in that chair, basking by the fire, eating all the food she wanted, ruler of her own small kingdom.
And so when the Abbess concluded by asking Evelina what she thought of where she now found herself, Evelina sank down onto her knees and clasped her hands together.
“I thank God, Reverend Mother,” she said piously, “that He has brought me home.”
Peeping up from beneath a curtain of golden curls, Evelina saw the Abbess was touched and impressed. Inwardly, the novice looked to the future and smiled.
Table of Contents
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
PROLOGUE
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
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43
EPILOGUE