Empire's Legacy- The Complete Trilogy

by Marian L Thorpe

  We stood silently until the doors had closed behind them. Anya spoke first.

  “Are you sure, Ianthe?”

  “Yes.” Her voice wavered, but she swallowed, straightening her shoulders. “I am. I won’t let my mother’s pride sacrifice a child’s future.” She smiled. “He is a lovely child, Watch-Commander. I see him occasionally, when I have a reason to be at Jedd’s farm. He doesn’t know I am his aunt, of course.”

  “You are welcome at my cottage, Ianthe, you and Valle.” She made a face. “Tamar won’t approve, but I am Council Leader. It’s my decision.”

  “How can I help?” Garth asked.

  “Come to us at Festival, if you can, to be with him,” Anya said. “Anything else would set him apart even more. There will be whispers and gossip, but we’ll do our best to counter that. And we’ll talk to him of you, so that he can brag of his brave father, as all the small boys do.”

  Garth smiled. “For all I did not want to be a soldier, I remember telling the others what a great fighter my father was.” He sobered. “What will you tell him of his mother?”

  “That she was my sister, and I loved her, and that she died in the fighting,” Ianthe said. “And I’ll show him her pots.”

  “Tell him she danced,” I said. “To music, and with a sword, and both were beautiful.”

  “I believe that,” Ianthe said.

  “I had best send a message to the farm,” Anya said, briskly. “We’ll need Valle here, tomorrow morning, for the claiming ceremony. Ianthe, will you go?”

  “Yes, of course,” she said eagerly.

  “Wait just a moment, and I’ll write it. Lena, I was going to have you lodge with me tonight, but now I think Ianthe will need the bed. Old Ione keeps beds for men who come on business and for messengers. I’d already arranged for Garth to stay with her, and she will find a bed for you, too. Let me get this note written, and I’ll take you there.” She disappeared into the office.

  “Ianthe,” I said, before Garth could speak. “You don’t have to do this and estrange yourself from your family. I will raise Valle, either here, or back in my home village.”

  “No,” she said firmly. “Thank you, Lena, but no. He is my sister’s child. I loved her, and I owe this to her. I’m used to my mother’s ways, and Joce isn’t as distant as she seems. She’ll find ways to see me and Valle.” She smiled. “You’ll always be welcome if you wish to visit, to tell Valle of his mother’s time in the north.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Anya reappeared with a sealed note in her hand, which she gave to Ianthe before turning to us. “Follow me.”

  Old described Ione well. I judged her to be eighty, at least. Our rooms—on different floors—were sparsely furnished, but the sheets smelled of lavender and sunshine, and the scrubbed floors shone. We fetched our own water from the well for washing, at Anya’s quiet suggestion.

  I shook out my cleanest clothes and washed in the cool water. The soap smelled of lavender too. I realized I would have no opportunity to talk to Garth before dinner, and that thought did not altogether displease me. I needed time to think about how I had felt when Ianthe said she would raise Valle. I understood why I was relieved, but why was I also disappointed?

  I let the thought sit in my mind, not trying to find an answer. I dried myself with a towel that was old but neatly mended, and dressed. I brushed my hair and hung up my riding clothes. I would need them again tomorrow. If I had stayed for Valle, I thought, then I would not be leaving tomorrow. I might never have seen Maya again. Maybe that would have been best.

  “Why?” I said out loud. I sat on the bed for a while, waiting, but no answer came. I lay down, drifting into sleep and jumbled snatches of dreams until the meeting bell rang across the fields.

  Nearly a hundred women crowded the meeting hall, sitting in rows of benches arranged along the long axis of the room, facing east. Anya and two other women—both also olive-skinned, with grey in their hair—stood under the windows, conferring. Tamar sat in a high armchair to one side, a concession to her illness, I guessed, with Joce beside her. I did not see Ianthe.

  When Anya saw us enter, she motioned us to a bench against the wall. “Sit here,” she said as we approached. “Mikelle, Roxine, this is Lena of Tirvan, and Garth, Watch-Commander of Skua. Mikelle and Roxine are council leaders.” Each woman took our hands in both of theirs, smiling a greeting. Their hands felt dry and cool; mine were damp with sweat and nervousness.

  We sat with a hundred pairs of eyes on us. I tried not to look at the floor. Garth scanned the room then turned his attention to the council leaders. I did the same.

  “Women of Karst,” Anya called. Voices stilled.

  “Women of Karst,” Anya said again, her voice quieter. “Our guests have brought news.” She turned to us. “Please stand, so all may see you.” We complied. I looked out over the rows of women, but the brightness of the western windows made it hard to see faces. “Lena, of Tirvan village, and Garth, Watch-Commander of Skua, have ridden south with news of one of our women.” Anya said levelly. “It is sad news they bring, although not entirely. You may sit,” she said to us.

  “Tice, daughter of Tamar and sister to Joce and Ianthe, was killed during the invasion of Tirvan,” Anya said. A wave of voices spread across the room. One woman slipped off the bench to go to Joce and Tamar, kneeling to take Tamar’s hands. Tamar shook her head. The woman rose to speak to Joce, reaching out to her. Joce stepped away from the embrace.

  Anya continued. “She was stabbed, on night patrol. I am told she died quickly.”

  “Has word been sent to my sister, in Casilla?” The woman who had gone to Tamar and Joce asked.

  “Not yet, Tevian,” Anya answered. “The Watch-Commander rides there to join his ship in a few days. I had hoped he would take the letter, although I had not yet asked him. Unless you wish to go to Tevra yourself?”

  “I wish I could,” Tevian said, “but as you know my babe still needs the breast, and she’s too sickly to withstand the ride to Casilla.” She turned to Garth. “Will you take the letter, Watch-Commander?”

  “Of course,” Garth said. He sounded older, as if in the last days he had grown into his new roles: officer of the Empire, father.

  “The Watch-Commander,” Anya said to the room, “supported the defence of Tirvan. The ship on which he serves has sailed from there with the Lestian prisoners, but he sought his captain’s permission to ride south with Lena. He, too, brings a message. While disguised as a man of Leste, and on the Emperor’s service, he fathered Tice’s child, Valle.” Faces reflected surprise, disbelief, shock. Voices rose.

  “What?’

  “No!”

  Anya raised a hand for silence. The room obeyed. Like Gille, she commanded respect. “The webs the goddess weaves brought them together again at Tirvan, long enough for this to be confirmed. He has come to acknowledge his son.”

  Chatter broke out again. Eventually Anya raised a hand again, asking for quiet.

  “Who will raise him?” Tevian asked.

  “I will,” Ianthe said. She had been standing at one end of the hall, beside the fireplace, hidden in the shadows. “I have told the Watch-Commander—Garth—and my mother and sister. I will take Valle. The claiming ceremony will be tomorrow morning. We will live with Anya.” As she spoke, she walked into the light of the room. I could see her trembling even from my distance. Brave, I thought. So brave.

  “Bring him to me when you need to,” Tevian said. “He’s nearly of an age with my Kinley. They can play together.” She strode over to Ianthe to hug her, murmuring something too quietly for anyone but Ianthe to hear.

  “Women of Karst!” Anya called, pulling attention away from Ianthe and Tevian. “You have heard the news. Meeting is over. There is tea, of course, but please respect that Lena and Garth have ridden a very long way and are tired. For those who wish to witness, the claiming ceremony will be two hours after dawn.”

  We all rose. Mikelle and Roxine walked over to us, smiling
.

  “Thank you,” Roxine said, “sounds quite inadequate, for what you have both done.”

  “What have we done?” Garth asked quietly. “Valle will have a different life, yes, and a father, but what of Ianthe? She’s lost both her mother and her sister.”

  “I think,” Mikelle said, “that perhaps Valle has provided the reason for Ianthe to leave her mother’s house.” She spoke slowly, choosing her words with care. “Do not worry for her, Watch-Commander, not on that front, at least. She and your son will be safe with Anya, and most of the village, even Joce, in her way, will support them, as we do with all our children.”

  “All your legitimate children,” Garth said. Mikelle inclined her head, accepting the statement.

  “Yes,” she said. “But that isn’t our choice. Had the child been a girl, Tice could have kept her. What does a village do with a fatherless boy who has no place in the Empire’s armies?”

  “I do not know,” Garth said heavily. “Forgive me, Mikelle. I didn’t mean to give offense.”

  “I took none,” she said. She laughed. “Council leaders are thicker-skinned than that, Watch-Commander. Now, would you both like tea?”

  A few minutes later, I had a mug of tea in my hand and a group of women about my age around me. I expected questions about Tice, but these women had other interests.

  “Would you tell us of Tirvan?” one of them asked shyly.

  “With pleasure,” I said, relieved. I could handle this. “Not that there’s a lot to tell. We are a northern village, but I suppose you know that. There is Berge, close to the Wall, and then Skeld, and Delle, and Tirvan. All are coastal villages, so we fish. I had a boat,” I said, “with my partner. Many women fish, but others tend the herds—sheep, and some cows—weave, or work in wood or metal. We’re isolated, so we must be masters of all trades.”

  “How big is your village?”

  “About forty houses,” I said. “And the barns and stables and workshops, and the docks and fish sheds. The village fans out from the harbour up into the hills.” I thought of the sea I had glimpsed today, and a sharp pang of homesickness assailed me. “It’s very beautiful in the spring when the meadows are in flower, and in the autumn, when the heather blooms.”

  “Who came to you, to ask you to fight?” a slightly older woman asked.

  “Casyn,” I said. “He is a general, but he was born in Tirvan. I think that was the way of things.”

  “Yes,” the older woman said. “The man who came to us, Rolan, was born here. He is Anya’s brother. I wondered if that had been the case everywhere.”

  “We were lucky,” the older woman went on. “We lost no one. The defence was easier than you might think. We’re bordered on the south, where the land meets the sea, by sheer cliffs of chalk, nearly impossible to climb. We concentrated our defences at the harbours, with riders moving between. Other cohorts guarded the roads to Casilla and to the Four-Ways Inn. We attacked from above, with arrows and spears, and burned their boats. They surrendered quickly.” The older woman spoke with calm precision, and, I thought, deep passion.

  “Were you a Cohort-Leader?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “As you were, from what I have heard.”

  There is talk, I thought. Of course there is. “Yes. Our tactics were very similar, but we lost four women.”

  “Would you do it again?”

  “Oh, Halle,” someone said impatiently, “Do you have to bring this up now? I want to hear about the north. I want to hear about snow.”

  “If you mean, would I defend my village again, and in a leader’s role,” I said slowly, “then, yes. But I have no love for fighting and less for killing.”

  “But now we know we can, if we must,” she said quietly, “and we can wield weapons and think tactically. Can we forget this, to go quietly back to what our lives were before?”

  “Most of us will,” I said. The younger women listened, their eyes flicking between us.

  “But not all,” she said. “I’m Halle,” the older woman said. “May we speak in the morning, before you leave? Anya will tell you where to find me.”

  “If you like.” She unsettled me. In truth, I did not want to speak with her again, but could think of no way to refuse her. I crossed over to where Garth sat with Tevian and Ianthe.

  Together, we walked out into the starry night. A warm wind blew from the south. I could smell the hint of salt from the ocean. Bats flew and chattered overhead, hunting insects.

  “The siraca,” Tevian said. “The wind from the south. It’s never winter here, or not for long. Tomorrow will be glorious.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The day was glorious, indeed. Two hours past dawn, I walked outside without my coat, marvelling at the warmth of the breeze against my skin. At home, the peaks above the village would have been white for weeks now, the ponds frozen. Snow might even be forcing us to spread ashes on the pathways and resort to brooms to keep porches and doorsteps clean. Fires would burn day and night in the houses. Here, it smelled like spring, with the winter solstice still more than a week away.

  I had awoken early after a night of deep and exhausted sleep. I crept out to the pump, hoping I would not disturb Ione, to wash my hair under the cold stream. By the time I took a bucket back to my room, bathed, and dressed, the sun had risen.

  I stood at my window, letting my hair dry, watching the sun light the rows of vines, dyeing them pink, creating long shadows. I heard Ione rise and go out to the kitchen; I heard Garth come downstairs and then go back up. A while later he came down again. A bird called, a squeaky mix of notes. I watched a hare lope along the edge of the field. The breeze carried the faint smell of the sea.

  I found my comb, tidied my now-dry hair, and went out to the kitchen. Ione drank tea at the table.

  “Th’ wa’ch commander’s gone,” she said. She had no upper teeth in front, so she slurred some words. “A’ th’ hall.”

  “I’m going there as well, but I’ll come back later to change and pack. Should I pay you now or later?”

  She shook her head. “No char’e. Tice was my gran’-niece. No charge, for ei’er of you.”

  I nodded, my heart in my throat. “I’ll give the coins to Ianthe, then, for Valle.” I offered. She smiled, showing her gapped teeth.

  “Tha’s good.”

  At the hall, Garth stood speaking to Ianthe and Anya. A dozen or so women sat on the benches, Tevian among them. Mikelle and Roxine came in just after me.

  “Lena, good morning,” Anya said. “Will you stand as witness this morning?”

  “Yes.” A claiming ceremony needed three witnesses. I wondered who the other two were.

  “Do you know the words?”

  “I think so. I’ve attended claiming ceremonies before, but never stood as witness. In Tirvan, after the mother states the father’s name, the witnesses state their names and that they have witnessed. Is it different here?”

  “No,” Anya said. “Ianthe will speak in Tice’s stead, and I’ll leave your witnessing to last, so you can hear the others speak. Is that all right?”

  “Yes,” I said. “We always do the father’s witness last in Tirvan.”

  Outside, hooves clopped on the path. Anya went to the door to open it. A tall man, not heavy, but soft-looking, came in carrying a small boy. I heard a soft gasp from Ianthe. The child did not cry, but he had one thumb firmly clamped in his mouth. The man handed the boy to Anya before bending to kiss the child’s forehead.

  “You are his father?” he addressed Garth with an undercurrent of challenge.

  “I am,” Garth said mildly.

  “I am Alister,” the man said, “under-steward at the farm owned by the General Jedd.”

  “You have helped to raise my son till now?”

  “We all have. He’s a good boy, and clever.” He glanced over at Valle, but the child had burrowed his head into Anya’s shoulder. She rocked him, murmuring.

  “Then I owe you my deepest thanks,” Garth said. “I am Garth
, Watch-Commander of Skua, and if there is ever anything I can do for you, I will, if it is in my power.” He extended a hand to Alister, who took it, looking mildly surprised. They shook. Alister took one last look at Valle, inclined his head to us, and left.

  Anya came forward, carrying the boy. Valle raised his head, looking at us doubtfully, still sucking his thumb. His skin glowed olive, and his hair curled tightly around his scalp like his mother’s, but Anya had spoken truly: his eyes were Garth’s.

  “That was well done,” Anya said to Garth. “Valle, this is your father. Can you say hello?”

  He shook his head, turning his face back to Anya’s shoulder. He said something.

  “Valle?” Anya said. “Tell me again?”

  He looked up at her. “No father,” he said. He looked ready to cry.

  “Is that what they told you? They were wrong, Valle, but only because they didn’t know. This man is your father. His name is Garth. He’s been away a long time, but now he’s come to see you. Say hello.”

  Valle looked at Garth. “Tholdier?”

  “Yes,” Garth said, smiling. “I’m a soldier. Would you like to ride on my shoulders?”

  “Yeth,” Valle said, holding out his arms. Garth took him, swinging him up on his shoulders. I remembered him picking Pel up the same way. Valle laughed, putting his hands in Garth’s hair. Garth looked up at his son and grinned, his face suddenly alight.

  You are not, I told myself sternly, going to be jealous of a child.

  “Are we ready?” Anya asked.

  “Yes,” he said.

  We arranged ourselves in a half-circle, facing Anya.

  “We are here this morning,” Anya began, “to witness the claiming of this child, Valle, by his father, Garth of Skua, soldier of the Empire.” She smiled. “While it is usual for the child to be present, and often for the father to hold him, it is not usually on his shoulders. But no matter. We will continue.” She handed Garth a piece of paper. “Garth of Skua, please read the words written here, and, if you agree, speak them to us all.” Garth unfolded the paper awkwardly, balancing Valle with one hand and skimmed it. Then he nodded.