by Sharon Gibbs
Jaqulin listened and her thoughts strayed to the book she kept at the bottom of her wooden chest.
They heard a knock on the door.
‘Who’s there?’ Gerard said in annoyance.
‘It’s Brother Issac, Gerard.’
Gerard sprang from the bed and garbed himself in his cloak. Never before had anyone from the Keep sought him out. A little embarrassed, Gerard opened the door and stared at Brother Issac.
‘Master Gerard, word has arrived from your father. You need to return home at once. Your mother is unwell.’
‘Thank you, Brother Issac. I shall prepare to leave right away.’
Brother Issac left. He’d given no indication as to how he felt. The ladies that lived and worked in the village brothels were treated with respect. They provided a service to those who sought companionship and with so many men and young lads at the Keep, it meant the people of the village didn’t have to worry about the virtue of their daughters as much.
Gerard closed the door and rushed to dress. He said nothing to Jaqulin as she lay on the bed and watched him pull on his trousers and boots. He slipped on his shirt and then wrapped himself in his cloak and headed for the door.
‘When will you be back, Gerard?’
Gerard stopped and as he turned towards her his face contorted with his anger. Gerard had become a man she no longer knew. Gone was the man she’d comforted and pandered to.
‘How can you ask that of me? After all I’ve done for you. My mother is ill!’ He stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him. Jaqulin lay in bed shocked. Never had she seen this side of Gerard before and it scared her. Where had the man gone that had lain in her bed only moments ago? She pulled the covers up around her chin. Her heart ached as she recounted the events and replayed the scene in her head. How can you ask that of me? After all that I’ve done for you! My mother is ill! A tear slipped from the corner of her eye and slid down her cheek.
Gerard went to the livery in the village and organised with the owner to take him to the Keep to collect his luggage. From there he’d travel to the port of Fledgel.
He packed his bags and carried them downstairs. Hierarch Jacob waited for him and as Gerard approached he handed him a letter addressed to his father. He shook Gerard’s hand. ‘Travel safely. I hope all is well with your mother. Take as much time as you need and then return to us when you’re ready to begin your studies again. I know you’ve been quite distracted, son, so use this time to assess what it is you want. Take care and we’ll see you upon your return.’ Gerard thanked him and then walked out to the carriage.
A week passed before Gerard arrived home in Reist. Tired from the journey and stricken with worry for his mother, he organised a carriage to take him to his family home. He travelled up the coastline away from the town and within an hour the carriage passed through the gates of the family estate.
As Gerard walked up to the front door, it swung open and his father stood in the entrance, dismay etched on his face.
‘What is it, father?’
‘Come son, before it’s too late. I feared you wouldn’t make it here before she passed.’
They rushed to her room. Gerard sat by his mother’s side and took her hand in his. Her skin was pale and cold to his touch. As he looked at her, he saw the dark circles around her eyes and their colour waned. Her skin was taut and dry and she gasped for breath. ‘Mother,’ Gerard said. She didn’t respond and stared up at the canopy above the bed. ‘Mother, it’s Gerard, I’m here,’ he said as he squeezed her hand.
‘She’s been like this since morning. I don’t think she can hear you,’ Devon said as he placed his hand on Gerard’s shoulder.
‘I came as soon as I’d heard.’ Gerard was bewildered by the state he saw his mother in.
‘She’ll know you are here, Gerard. Take comfort in that, son.’
How could she have become so sick so soon? Surely his father would’ve called for him before now? Gerard’s heart weighed heavy and his mind raced. He sat with his mother and waited for her to recognise him. He watched as the movements of her chest grew shallow and he heard her final breath leave her body. But still he waited for her small frame to rise and gasp at life’s essence, for that small sound that would pull breath into her body. But it didn’t come. She lay still. He waited and then in desperation, he clutched her by the shoulders and shook her. He called to her over and over again. Tears flowed down his face and obscured his vision.
‘She’s gone, Gerard,’ Devon said as he tried to comfort his son. ‘Let her rest in peace.’
Gerard sat back and looked at her one more time through his tears and pain. Then he stood up and walked out of the room and left his father to say goodbye to his beloved wife.
Two days passed and Gerard had withdrawn into himself. His mother had been dressed and bathed. She wore a robe of forest green and now waited up on top of the cliff. The breeze blew over the ocean and it whipped up the face of the cliff. A pyre had been built and she lay nestled in the branches. Soon they’d burst into flame at the first spark of the torch. The fire would purify her and her ashes would be sprinkled on the wind to pass on to the Other World and connect with her soul.
Devon had gone to Gerard’s room, hoping to bridge the distance that now overtook his son. Inside Gerard’s room, he found the letter from the Hierarch amongst the mess his son had strewn upon the floor. Devon tore open the letter and read it. It was beyond belief and an ache crept into his heart.
Lord Devon Antrobus:
Dear Sir,
It is with great concern that I write to you about your son, Gerard.
While in the beginning he had shown great promise, of late he’s been distracted and prefers to seek other entertainment in the village. His time would be better spent involved with his studies, as his progression has ceased. If he continues along this path it will be of no use for him to return, as his Wizard’s essence will dissipate and therefore render his studies useless to him.
If you could speak with the boy and find out where the problem lies, we will be happy to have him return to the Keep to continue his studies when he is ready.
Yours Faithfully,
Hierarch Jacob
Canistar
Devon Antrobus stormed out of Gerard’s room and when he entered his study, he called for his manservant, Mathew.
‘Yes, my Lord. What can I do for you?’ Mathew said.
‘Where’s my son?’ Devon yelled.
‘I think he went in to the town last night, my Lord, and hasn’t yet returned.’
‘Send someone to bring him home at once. Doesn’t he know today is the day his mother’s body will be sent forth to the Other World?’
‘Yes, my Lord. I’ll send someone. Will that be all, sir?’
‘Have a bath drawn for me. I will be up in a moment.’
Mathew nodded and left to see to his Lord’s wishes. Never before had he seen him in such a temper. He could be firm, but never angry. Mathew called for two of the servants. He told them to find Gerard and bring him back to the house. Even if they had to drag the boy, they were to bring him home. Then he went off to organise the Lord’s bath.
The two men stopped by the stables to collect their mounts. The stable boy had informed them that the Lord’s son had taken the carriage into town the day before and hadn’t yet returned.
It wouldn’t be hard to find the carriage. It was one of a kind and emblazoned on the doors was the family’s crest. A snake embossed upon a stave.
As they entered the town they found the carriage hitched to the side of a tavern. They soon learnt that Gerard had spent his time there to drink away his sorrows and was still upstairs asleep.
The owner of the tavern led them to Gerard’s room and knocked on the door.
‘Who’s there?’ Gerard’s voice responded, still cloudy with sleep and the copious amounts of alcohol he’d consumed the night before.
‘Your father has sent us to bring you home, Sir. Your mother is to been seen of
f this morning and he’d like you to return at once.’
Gerard’s head pounded. He slid out of bed and walked over to the door. He opened it a fraction and told them he wouldn’t be long. When he was ready they walked down the stairs and Gerard paid the owner for his stay. Outside, the carriage had been brought around to the front of the tavern and the men’s two horses had been hitched to the back. Gerard climbed inside the carriage and sprawled on one of the seats as the two men took their position in the driver’s seat.
It wasn’t long before they pulled through the gates of the Lord’s residence. Gerard was apprehensive as the carriage stopped and he hesitated before he left its interior. He entered the house and was told to head to his father’s study. Gerard walked through the door to find his father seated behind his desk. Open in front of him was a ledger that held all the births, deaths and marriages of the people of Reist. Devon had just entered his own beloved wife’s name to the book when Gerard walked in.
Devon stood and appraised his son. His clothes were dirty, wrinkled and his hair was a mess. Devon was appalled. On this, the day of his wife’s funeral, his son shamed him.
‘I’ll speak with you later, Gerard, but for now go to your room, clean yourself and dress yourself as befits your station. I want you ready to leave within the hour!’ Devon slammed the heavy leather cover of the ledger closed and walked out.
Gerard was dressed and ready to leave within the hour. He came downstairs and found his father waited for him in the lounge. Gerard had taken care with the way he dressed and his appearance pacified Devon’s ire. Father and son left their home and travelled to the cliff. The coach they rode in had been the same one Gerard had taken into the town. It had been cleaned and washed before it was brought around for the Lord to use. A small convoy of soldiers had been assembled at the front to escort the coach. Devon and Gerard didn’t speak until they reached the cliff where the funeral was to be held.
Gerard felt humbled in his father’s presence and thought about his words before he spoke. ‘I’m sorry that I haven’t been home, father. You know I wouldn’t intentionally be late on a day such as this.’
Devon couldn’t speak to the boy. He was too distressed. His thoughts hadn’t been about the boy’s behaviour upon the ride, but of his beloved wife. Devon descended from the coach and waited for Gerard.
‘Later this afternoon, Gerard,’ he said, ‘I wish to speak with you, but for now I can only think of your mother.’ Gerard understood his father’s turmoil and remained silent as he followed him to the funeral pyre.
The High Priest from the town had travelled to pay homage to his Lord’s wife. He stood before the pyre and read the sacred scriptures so her body would be protected and travel safely on to the next world to be reunited with her soul. Devon and Gerard stood together as they listened to his words.
Everyone gathered and payed homage for her safe journey. Devon and Gerard each took a torch and set fire to the pyre on both sides. The fire licked at the dry wood and as the cleansing flames touched each dry branch in turn the pyre slowly roared to life. Husband and son stood together and as the heat from the inferno scorched their faces they remembered the woman as they watched her body burn.
Later, when the ashes were cold, Devon’s men collected them from the site and waited there until their Lord returned. He stood defiant against the wind gusts as they buffeted his back to witness his men scattered his beloveds ashes over the side of the cliff. Lifted by the cool drafts he watched as her ashes soared over the ocean. The ritual was complete. His wife would now be whole again and wait on the other side for him to join her.
That afternoon Devon requested Gerard meet him in his study after the evening meal. Devon’s thoughts were of his son and his future rule over Reist. As Gerard entered the study, the flicker of the lanterns cast a warm glow over the room. He saw his father seated next to the fireplace in an old comfortable chair and he took a seat opposite him.
‘Father,’ Gerard said as he sat down. ‘You wished to speak with me.’ He wasn’t sure how his father would react to his disappearance but he noticed upon his father’s face a sadness that he, too, felt in his heart.
‘Gerard, I found the letter from the Hierarch in your room. I’m disheartened with the choices you have made of late.’ Devon sighed and continued on. ‘Son, I saw something special in you and this is why I wanted you to go to the Keep. To gain the wisdom to help you rule the people with their best interests at heart. I want you to have the knowledge and wisdom to be able to maintain the respect of the kingdoms that surround us. Our job is to help and guide the people. I can only assume by your behaviour here that you constantly stay out until all hours of the night. The people of Reist don’t provide you with the life of luxury for free, Gerard. For all that we do and all that we have, there is a price to pay and that price is service to the people of the realm.’
Gerard stared at his father and his thoughts returned to his studies at the Keep. ‘Father I don’t find the lessons they teach at the Keep to be of that much help. Why should I learn which season is the best to plant crops in? The magic that they hold could do so much more for our people. I don’t understand why you want me to continue with my studies on how to make these balms. I’m sure we’ve people here for that.’
‘Well tell me, Gerard, who will teach them this. How will they know what herbs or plants to choose when they make a tonic? Our task is not only to share our knowledge but also to guide those around us to help others. I want you to return to the Keep and finish your studies.’ Devon became annoyed with his son’s ignorance. It was obvious he’d no idea of his responsibilities to the people.
‘But father—’
‘You’ll return to the Keep and you’ll study hard and I expect to hear of great improvement. You’ll then be able to return and be the great ruler that I’ve envisaged! Maybe if we’d someone with this knowledge in our realm, your mother wouldn’t have died. She could’ve been saved. Now go and pack your bags. I’ve no time for your silly ideas for only magic. Both belong together and if you’d studied harder maybe you could’ve been more help to your mother!’
Devons words struck Gerard like a blow and they forced a wedge deep in his heart. He winced as each word pounded the wedge deeper until it was all he could feel. Gerard shot up from the chair and left the room.
He’d pack and return to the Keep.
A week later, Gerard had thrown himself into his studies. He spent long hours with his books in the hope he’d make amends. Most days and nights Gerard read and mixed lotions and brews. But the end result was always the same. The potions weren’t how they should’ve been. He went over his lessons and books but it was no use. He couldn’t replicate the samples he used for comparison. He was lost and he fell into despair and slipped back into his old habits. He ventured back into the village to soothe his pain and sought out the brothel where Jaqulin lived and worked.
As he lay in Jaqulin’s arms he told her all that had happened since she’d last seen him. Jaqulin had been pleased to see Gerard again and had accepted him back into her life the moment he’d walked through the door. He told her of his mother’s death and of the way his father had berated him and sent him back to the Keep. He told her how he’d studied day and night and still his magic had failed him. He’d lost his Wizard’s essence. The potions weren’t as they should’ve been. He could no longer fuse the elements together, no matter how hard he tried.
‘What am I to do, Jaqulin?’ He sobbed as she held him close. ‘If I can’t prove myself to the Hierarch, he’s sure to send me away and I’ll no longer be able to see you. My father will never let me reign. What’ll become of me?’
Gerard rose from her bed and filled his glass. Yet again the warm liquid slid down his throat and soothed his fears.
‘Gerard, I’ve a book that was left with my mother, but the man never returned to claim it,’ Jaqulin said.
‘What do I want with another book?’ Gerard spat the words.
She was taken back b
y his tone and said with despair, ‘Gerard, why do you speak to me so? I think only of you, darling. It’s a book of magic and I thought it might help you. I can’t understand it, but I thought you could take a look at it.’
Jaqulin opened her wooden chest and removed the book. It was wrapped in a silk cloth to keep the pages safe. She handed the book to Gerard and watched his face to see his reaction. Gerard unwrapped the material and held the book. The cover was old and tattered. Its leather had worn over time by the many hands that previously held it. Gerard read the inscription inside the cover.
To Jork,
Keep this book with you always and study the words held within carefully. Once you delve into the Arts there will be no turning back.
Come to the Art with your mind, body and spirit. To fulfil your destiny you must start anew.
Your mentor, Isham.
The inscription seemed as if it was written from a teacher to a student and gave forewarning of the words the book held. Gerard had never seen a book quite like this before. He sat on the edge of the bed and began to read. Gerard felt a connection with the words immediately and its pages made complete sense to him. The spells written seemed to levitate and envelope him.
‘Gerard, what does the book say?’
He was amazed. ‘I’ve never seen a book like this before, Jaqulin. This is what I need to master my Wizard’s essence. It tells me how to not only master my magic, but how to multiply it.’ Gerard couldn’t believe his luck. It was the answer to his prayers and now he could fulfil his destiny.
Back at the Keep, Gerard studied the book in the privacy of his room. He attended his classes during the day, but spent all his free time involved within the Dark Arts. He could feel his control over his essence grow and would show off his skills to Jaqulin when he went to visit her. Over time he went to see her less as he became absorbed within the pages of the Dark Arts.
