by Patty Jansen
Others murmured agreement. Some wanted to know if they’d had church services while they were in Florisheim, and Johanna told them about Shepherd Carolus and that some of the nobles in the group, especially the women, supported the church. That made her remember Julianna Nieland and the young men who had presumably made their way back to the Prosperity but needed places to stay.
“We have in our group some people who have come back and found all their possessions burned and relatives killed. Some of these people need places to stay. I’m sure that they will work for their keep.”
A man wanted to know, “Do you have someone who can write neatly without mistakes?”
“Julianna Nieland.”
Some gasps went up in the audience.
A woman said, “Certainly we can’t have the traitor’s sister in our midst? She wouldn’t go against her own brother?”
“She saw what her brother did to the people of Saardam and she fled because of his actions. She could go back to his house if she wanted, but instead she has chosen to keep away from him. She sees the evil in him. She is brave but has no place to sleep.”
“But then she can sleep in our house,” said a clear, young male voice. Someone had just entered and was making his way through the crowd. People stepped aside for him, and bowed.
Johanna assumed this was the Shepherd Victor.
A figure in a long hooded cloak dissolved from the crowd and came to the table-turned-altar. The garment was dark on colour, brown or black, and he held it tied with a simple rope. His face was invisible in the shadow of the hood, but he reached up and pushed the hood down.
“It is a great pleasure to welcome Your Majesty in the house of the Triune—” He froze. “Mistress Johanna!”
“Master Willems!”
Johanna stared at the young man. She’d known that Shepherd Victor was not his real name, but she had expected him to be some senior member of the church.
He came to her, his eyes shining. He took her hand and dropped to one knee. “Oh, I am so glad to see you safe and well, and about to become the queen, too. I listened to rumours and prayed and dreamed, and hoped that someone would bring news of your survival.”
He had listened to the wind, she was sure, but he still continued the Church line that magic didn’t exist.
“I presume you have met my wife, Greetje?”
“I met her, but I didn’t know that she was your wife.”
“We married after the fire. We are trying to continue life as normal as we can, to have marriages, to baptise children and hold funerals. We’ve had far too many of those lately. We can use some good news.”
“Your parents?”
His face fell. “Died in the fire.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“Everyone of us has a story of loss and pain to tell. We’ve been trying to keep people’s hopes up by holding weddings. Maybe now that you have returned, we should have a very short ceremony that we all confirm our love for each other, and that we will help each other. Let us start with the service.”
People fell quiet. Johanna took Roald’s hand and drew him into the audience where the people at the front made room for them.
The ceremony was simple and short. Master Willems spoke about hope and new life, new relationships. He likened the group, this little seed of resistance, to a blade of grass pushing through the snow after winter.
People prayed. Happy tears rolled over many cheeks.
At the end, the Shepherd asked Johanna and Roald to come forwards and to state officially that they were husband and wife, and that the marriage service had been conducted before a member of the church. Johanna said that it had, and that, when the hard times were over, there would be an official celebration.
“Certainly that will be a celebration of the firstborn prince or princess,” a woman said.
Others agreed.
“If you were married a few months ago, we should certainly have an heir by summer,” a woman said.
Johanna smiled politely but felt miserable inside.
More people gathered around and Johanna asked about people she knew, like the families of the ship’s boys.
In turn, people wanted to know about survivors who had been to Florisheim with Johanna. Most of the names she mentioned met with snorts and scoffs. Of Fleuris LaFontaine someone said that it was better that he stayed there. “Never good for anything except bossing people around and complaining that the work wasn’t done good enough. He would go and explain how it was done. He’s never done anything himself.”
The only person who met with any kind of approval was Master Deim.
“He’s a decent sort,” a man said. “But I thought he was from Florisheim or has family there.”
“He does, but his sister-in-law is a Saarlander.” Johanna remembered the picture above the hearth and the woman’s awkward pledge of loyalty.
Then the meeting was over and people started filing out of the shed in small groups so as not to draw attention. In the end just Master Willems, Greetje, Nellie, Roald and Johanna were left in the coldness of the empty warehouse.
Johanna held Roald’s arm and faced Master Willems, who held Greetje’s arm. She was shivering in the cold.
“We are always in the last group to leave,” Master Willems said. “We turn off the lights and make the room look like the meeting never happened.”
Nellie had already started sweeping dust over the floor.
“It’s very good to see that you have survived,” Johanna said. “But I don’t understand. Father says that you’ve gone missing.”
“He knows where I am, but that I’ve gone missing is the story we tell everyone. After the burning of the city, it soon became clear that Alexandre and his louts were after members of the church. That’s how they got my family.”
And that might be why the LaFontaine nephew had mocked about Master Willems having gone missing. He knew that Father had something to hide, because if Master Willems had really gone missing, Father would have appointed a different accountant long ago.
“I’m so sorry about your family.”
He pressed his lips together. “I’m learning to move forward.”
“You knew that the trouble was coming for us, didn’t you? You had seen it on the wind.”
“They were omens.”
“Would you deny your gift, even now?”
His expression closed. “I do not speak of that thing. The Triune teaches that it is not a good thing.” Even now, he could not say the word magic.
“I understand, but I don’t think it’s wise. Are we going to face Alexandre wielding prayer books while he mows us down with magic fire?”
He gave her a sharp look.
“He will come for us, and he will kill us all if we give him a chance.”
“We will stay out of his way until we are so numerous that he can’t fight all of us at once. He thinks we are weak and scared. The numbers of Estlanders he employs has already gone down a lot. By the time we are strong, he will have too few trusted men to fight us.”
“He’s recruiting people in the city.”
“Only those who are easily swayed by power will come to him. The rest will not betray their family and friends.”
Johanna wasn’t so sure about that. If people were desperate enough, they would do anything.
Then they discussed what should be done next.
Master Willems said, “In a time like this, we cannot do much without a strong leader. The prince must assume the throne. We must hold a coronation ceremony and we must make a temporary palace.”
Johanna agreed and guessed that her father’s house would have to fulfil that function, although Roald would probably never satisfy the description strong leader. “We may be able to hold a proper coronation ceremony.”
“The crown and staff were lost when the king and queen were killed,” Master Willems said, gravely.
“I know. I saw the bodies in the palace. I picked up the crown and the staff and hid them.”
>
He stared at her, open-mouthed. “You know where they are?”
“In the same place I left them, unless you’ve seen Alexandre wear those things.”
“No, we haven’t. Alexandre declares himself the regent but he never wears the crown and never carries the staff. We thought that meant the crown must have been lost.”
“Mind you, they might still have been lost, but it looks like most of the palace still stands. There is a good chance that the crown and staff are still where I hid them. Alexandre hasn’t done much to fix the palace up?”
He shook his head. “Most of the roof has fallen in. He can’t find people to fix it.”
Greetje started laughing at this, and Johanna guessed that this was one of the ways that the citizens protested against the tyrant.
“We could retrieve them and have the proper ceremony.”
Master Willems’ eyes shone. “That would be a slap in his face.”
“We could get in through the rose garden. There is a hedge in the rose garden that surrounds a wall that’s not very high and shouldn’t be too hard to climb.”
Chapter 12
* * *
MOST OF THE next day, Johanna sat in the kitchen because an icy wind had come up and there was not enough wood to heat the entire house. Father stayed in the library where, thanks to the high ceiling, it was much colder despite the fire. He said, “You young people should talk amongst yourselves.”
Johanna told him not to be silly and join them, but he said that he expected a visit from Auguste LaFontaine and that the LaFontaines should not find out about his houseguests.
Which was true.
But the LaFontaine cousin stayed away, probably because of the weather. Father took his tea in the library. Roald had moved a chair from the cold formal sitting room into the kitchen, where it had stood in the corner for many years. It was a strange thing, made from some kind of twig, much thinner and smoother than willow twigs. She used to love it when she was little, because the wood would show her a large river flowing between steep rocks covered in green. It was a landscape she had never seen before or since.
She didn’t know how Father had obtained the chair, but since it weighed a lot less than the traditional furniture, it had been easy for Roald to carry downstairs. He sat there now, reading a book with his feet on a footstool and the glow from the fire gilding his trousers and slippers.
The rain had turned to snow at midmorning, but the darkness was never dispelled from the house.
At some time in the afternoon came the sound of footsteps from the back yard, the kitchen door opened and Greetje came in.
“Cold out there,” she said while unwrapping the shawl from her head and shaking out the snowflakes. She stood by the fire, warming her hands. Roald was deeply engrossed in a book and never looked up.
“The boys like the idea of getting the crown and staff,” Greetje said, rubbing her hands. “Bert says that there is a new moon in two weeks and it might be good to break into the palace then.”
“That sounds like a good idea. Could you find a couple of volunteers to come with me?”
“By the Triune, you’re not planning to go yourself?”
“Who else knows where the crown and staff are?”
“You can give directions.”
“I don’t remember exact details. I can tell on sight once I see the room, but I don’t know the palace well enough to give the men precise directions.”
Greetje gave her a horrified look. “But you’re the consort. You can’t possibly—”
“I’m also the only person who knows where I put the crown.”
She still didn’t look convinced. “By the Triune, the boys are not going to like this. My husband told me to not let you go out more than necessary. He said we will come and guide you. It’s tricky enough simply walking the streets. The guards walk certain patterns. If they see you, they will sometimes stop you for a stupid reason and ask you questions to make you angry. They’re trying to find an excuse to make you dependent on Alexandre. If you protest too much, he sets your house on fire. He’s an evil man, possessed by the Lord of Fire. He just flicks his hand at a house and it burns.”
And none of these people with powerful magic wanted to help her. Instead she was left to fight magic with virtually no magic of her own. With a church that denied the existence of magic. They didn’t need more people; they needed more useful people.
“Do you want some tea?” Koby asked.
“Well, I . . .” Greetje hesitated. “Oh, why not.”
It was warm in the kitchen. Koby had a pan of hot water on the stove for the washing, and after Greetje accepted the tea she took off her coat.
Underneath, she wore a dark dress of thick fabric that looked like it had once made up curtains in a house of a well-off family.
She laughed when she noticed Johanna staring at it. “The dress is a bit odd, I admit, but I had to make something that would accommodate my condition.” She joined her hands and pushed down the fabric under her belly. It showed a clear swelling.
Johanna stared. “These are poor times to be having a child.”
“The times are as good or bad as you make them. Times may be hard, but there is nothing I can change about them. These hard times are when I got married, and I’m not letting that stand in the way of having a family.” She sipped from her tea.
Koby picked up the pan and carried it, steaming and all, into the laundry, leaving Johanna and Greetje at the table. Roald was still reading. Had he even noticed that they had a visitor and were talking about retrieving the symbols of his family?
Johanna played with her cup, looking at Greetje from the corner of her eye. “How do you know . . . that you’re going to be having a child? Like, in the very beginning?”
“Well, you don’t bleed, of course. You start to feel strange sometimes. Puffy, or full, or sick sometimes, and you can faint, but that hasn’t happened to me. And then you notice that nothing fits anymore so you have to get special dresses.”
“Do you feel the child move inside you?”
“Yes, but that’s not until later. Why are you asking? Are you. . . ?”
“I don’t know.” And she truly didn’t. With all the things that had been going on, Johanna couldn’t remember when she had last bled. She remembered the last time she’d been disappointed about it, but she thought there had been another time. In which case it was probably much too early to tell, and in which case . . . no, she wasn’t going to think about what happened in the Guentherite farmhouse with Kylian. She pushed down her unease. She asked, “How long did you notice this after you were married?”
“It didn’t take me long at all. We were married and that night he took me to bed and I never bled since.”
Johanna gritted her teeth. For some people, it was so easy. “It took Queen Cygna a number of years.”
“That’s true. Maybe it’s a royal family thing.”
Maybe, too, people who weren’t entirely normal couldn’t have children. She’d heard of some people called simple or idiots, but none she knew of had ever had children.
She shuddered.
Which was worse: that she never had a child, that the child was afflicted with the same condition as Roald, or, heaven forbid, that Kylian had bewitched her, had his way with her and the child was his?
Blood rose to her cheeks.
All of a sudden, it was too hot and stuffy in the kitchen. She rose so quickly that her chair almost fell over. She ran out of the kitchen, through the laundry, past Koby who was scrubbing clothes in the big wash tub, and out the back door.
“Mistress Johanna!” Koby protested.
Johanna stopped, panting in the back courtyard where the neat garden was brown for winter. A drift of fat snowflakes fell from the sky.
She hugged herself against the cold. The snow melted where it hit her arms. Her stomach was churning. Shooting pains went through her breasts. They felt as hard as rocks. Those were all signs, weren’t they?
Koby came out into the snow. “Mistress? What are you doing out here?”
“I just . . . couldn’t breathe in there.”
“It’s cold and wet out here. Come inside.” She put an arm on Johanna’s shoulder, guiding her back into the kitchen.
Greetje raised her eyebrows.
“I’m not very well,” Johanna said.
Greetje and Koby exchanged a knowing look.
Koby said, “Not to be jumping to conclusions too quickly, mistress, but I think there is a good chance that we’ll have the patter of little feet in summer.”
Roald looked up with a huh–what? expression.
“And there we have the father to be.”
Roald frowned at her. He looked genuinely puzzled, as if he didn’t think that all those nights that she had sat astride him would have any consequences. There had been so many of those nights.
Of course any child she had was his. Any other possibility was simply put into her head by magic. They wanted her to feel uncertain.
She was not going to let her mind wander down silly winding tracks. If there was going to be a prince or princess, he or she was of Carmine blood.
* * *
A few days later Johanna went to another Church service, this time at someone’s house at the very edge of the city. Greetje had drummed up more volunteers for her trip to the palace than she needed. She’d hoped to get two or three men, but she ended up with eight.
Some of the men were adamant that she should not go. “You’re the Queen. If we lose you, our efforts at resisting Alexandre will have been for nothing.”
“I know where these things are. I know the palace better than any of you. I can’t let you go inside without a guide. You might get lost.”
The men were all warehouse workers and shipbuilders and carpenters. None of them had ever set foot inside the palace, so they reluctantly had to agree to let her come.
They worked out a plan. They would do it on the night of the next new moon. A couple of men would hide a ladder in the reeds along the river on the outside the palace garden. They would climb in through the Queen’s rose garden and then through the garden room and the big ballroom, into the royal family’s living quarters.
