Empire's Legacy- The Complete Trilogy

by Marian L Thorpe

  I stared at him. “But what happened?”

  He shrugged. “I told you, we don't know. Just that all messages, emissaries, trade, they all stopped. A very long time ago. We learn about it as cadets, and then we forget about it again, except in ceremonies, and at burials.”

  “But why does Donnalch know about it, and honour the memory? The north is not part of the Empire.”

  Darel shook his head. “I don't know. Maybe they have learned it from us in the long years there have been soldiers on the Wall?”

  “Maybe,” I murmured. My mind went back to a conversation I had had with Colm, months before. We had spoken of the building of the Wall, and how the northern armies had included men who had chosen to move north, rather than live under the rules of Partition. Perhaps, I thought, they brought the knowledge of the Eastern Empire, and the traditions around it, with them, and they have been maintained there to this day, as they have been here.

  And what did it matter? This Eastern Empire had been gone for centuries. Rituals called upon many things: some invoked gods I did not believe in, and a long-disappeared Empire wasn't that different. I would take the knowledge north with me: perhaps it would help in finding common ground with those who would be charged with my keeping. It might be useful to know this, in a house of learning. I felt glad, suddenly, that I was not the village girl I had been before the day, nearly two years ago, when Casyn had ridden into Tirvan. I had known nothing then of our history, beyond a few bare facts, and nothing at all of the world beyond the borders of Tirvan. Since then I had learned to defend the Empire, ridden its length, lived in Casilla, served the Emperor. I had learned lessons of the heart, too, I thought, about love and loyalty, duty and obligation, and how difficult it was to separate them. I would take all that north, and learn what I could, for my Emperor, and for myself.

  Chapter Two

  A weak sun brightened the day, but gave little warmth. The stones of the road and the Wall gleamed damply, drying in the stiff northwest breeze. I rode beside Darel in the middle of the entourage. His attention was mostly given to controlling the wall-eyed skewbald that had waited for him, tacked and restless, when we left the White Fort. I had been glad to see my Clio, although I needed both my voice and hands to keep her calm.

  Darel's horse shied, skittering sideways over the flagstones. Clio danced away from the larger horse. I heard Darel swear, hands and heels efficiently bringing the skewbald back into line. I felt the northerners' eyes on us; they sat their rougher hill ponies easily, and would know that our mounts' skittishness came in part from our own apprehension. Although, I noted, Kebhan and Ruar's ponies trotted calmly.

  Ahead of us the commanders and their advisors had noticed nothing. As we approached the watchtower where the proclamation of truce would be made, the crowd of soldiers deepened. We slowed to a walk, and then pulled up. Dismounting, I handed Clio's reins to Birel, who had appeared beside me; he took the skewbald from Darel as well, motioning us forward.

  I followed Darel to the base of the watchtower, and up the wooden steps. I could hear more footsteps behind us, echoing on the thick planks. As I turned the corner onto the top of the tower, the cold wind snatched at me, carrying the scents of smoke and pitch: the beacon-fires had been lit, to call the people in. My eyes watered. I looked northward. A horde of men and some women stood on the moorland below the tower, looking up. Southward, an equal number watched, although almost all were men.

  Watchtowers held, usually, one to three men: eight of us crowded the space. The Emperor, and beside him Casyn; Donnalch and his brother—whose name, I realized, I did not know—and the four of us who stood as hostage. From the end of the platform I saw a red head on the top of the Wall below: Turlo, with more men beside him. I guessed the Wall ramparts on both sides of the tower supported men, watching, guarding. The crowds on both sides shifted; voices rose and fell.

  Casyn had told us, before we left the White Fort, what we were to do: step forward when our names were announced. Beyond that, nothing. Given the wind and the crowds, all proclamations were to be made twice, once facing north, once south, repeated by both the Emperor and Donnalch.

  From the wall rampart below us came the wild moan of the elbow pipe, a sound that belonged to these windswept moors and valleys. The crowds on both sides of the wall gradually fell silent, except for the shifting of bodies. Together, Callan and Donnalch stepped forward, to the north, first. My gut tightened. I looked at the backs of the two men, Callan a head taller than Donnalch, and heavier. Neither man wore armour. Callan’s grey cloak, trimmed with white fur, hung to his knees; around his neck was the silver pendant denoting his rank. Donnalch’s robe encompassed the greys and fawns and purples of the moor, as effective a camouflage as the feathers of a grouse hen. The gold torc caught the light. His dark hair lifted in the breeze.

  “People of the north,” he said, his voice pitched to carry. He followed it by something in a language I did not know, the words sliding together, sounding somehow as wild and sorrowful as the pipes. “People of the north,” he said again. “I stand here today—no, we stand here today, to announce a truce, between myself and Callan, the Emperor of the lands south of the Wall, and between our peoples. Listen now, as together we tell you, in our common language, of the terms of this truce.” He turned slightly to face Callan. “Emperor,” he said, gesturing.

  “My thanks, Teannasach,” Callan said. “These, then are the terms. For six months, we will lay down our arms; your people will return to your villages and your fields, to your byres and pastures, and mine will do the same, before starvation finds us on both sides of the Wall. I give my word here, and the Teannasach will give his, that no raid nor battle will be undertaken by either side during this time of truce, nor any action that leads to the death by violence of a man or woman of our opposing side.” He stepped back slightly. The mass of people remained, for the most part, quiet. Waiting, I thought, to hear more. Donnalch raised his voice again.

  “In those six months, I and Lorcann, and the Emperor Callan and his brother the General Casyn, will meet, and talk, with the intent and the hope to find a way to a permanent peace between us; a peace, mind you, not a treaty that makes one side a vassal state to the other. Only if we are equals, in the tradition of the fallen Empire of the East that both our lands revere, can there be true peace. In surety of this truce, and our hopes for a lasting peace, I send my son Ruar, and my nephew Kebhan, to live with the cadets of the Southern Empire.” At a nod from the man I now knew was Lorcann, the two boys stepped forward. Now the crowd did react: no one shouted, or cried out, but a slow murmuring began. Donnalch raised an arm, and slowly, it subsided. The boys stepped back beside Darel and me.

  Callan spoke again. “I have no children,” he said, calmly, “to my sorrow. The Empire sends Darel, son to the General Turlo, and Lena, who stands as surrogate daughter to the General Casyn, to live and work and learn with you, and as hostages to the Empire's intentions. Here they are.” I took a deep breath, and with a brief glance at Darel, stepped to the edge of the watchtower. Hundreds of eyes looked up at us.

  “Thank you,” I heard Casyn murmur, and we stepped back. I let my breath out. Donnalch spoke again.

  “Look,” he said, holding up a rolled paper, “here is the truce. Watch, now, as the Emperor and I sign it in your sight.” He unrolled the paper, spreading it on the rampart of the watchtower. The wind caught at it. Casyn and Lorcann held in down, and first Donnalch and then Callan signed the document. It would have to be signed twice, I thought, for both sides to see. The paper was rolled again, and held up in Donnalch’s hand.

  “This truce begins now,” he cried, “and the penalty for any man or woman who breaks it is death: not only yours, mind, for you may be willing to make that choice, but remember that you could be choosing death for my son and nephew too, and that is not your choice to make. As your Teannasach, chosen by you to be your leader, I command you: uphold this truce, and leave here today with nothing more in your hearts and minds
than your families and the sowing of your crops. We have made history here today, with you as witness; remember that and rejoice.” He said something else, in the same tongue, with its undercurrent of music and mourning, and handed the scroll to Callan.

  We all turned, then, to face the soldiers and guards of the Empire. Callan and Donnalch repeated the same words, Callan announcing the truce, and then Donnalch giving the terms. Only in the minor changes needed for the speaking order and the audience did the speech differ from what had been said to the northerners.

  “I send Darel, son to General Turlo, and Lena of Tirvan, who stands as surrogate daughter to my brother the General Casyn, to live and work in the north, as hostages to the Empire’s intentions,” I heard Callan say. Again, I took a deep breath, and stepped forward. The eyes before had been those of strangers, assessing, curious. Now the eyes of those I served with, my companions and friends, looked up. I saw Halle in the crowd, met her eyes. She smiled, gave a quick nod. I swallowed. I did not look for anyone else.

  I heard Casyn’s quiet cue to step back. The same formal signing of the document occurred, with Lorcann and Casyn holding the paper against the wind. Callan said the final words, reminding our people that my life, and Darel’s, were forfeit to truce-breaking. I heard the words, but I could not make them real. I wondered where Callan and Donnalch would meet; here, on the Wall, I supposed. Who would guard the Wall now? Soldiers from both sides, surely?

  A clatter of boots roused me. The Emperor and the Teannasach descended the steps from the watchtower, followed by their supporters. Darel stepped forward just at the same moment as one of the northern boys—Ruar, I thought. They both stopped.

  “It is your Wall,” Ruar said softly, and with a slight bow. “You go ahead.”

  Darel hesitated. He looked at the steps, and then back at Kebhan. “The way is wide enough for us both,” he said. “Shall we walk together?”

  Ruar smiled slightly. “A diplomatic solution,” he replied. He wore woollen clothes like his father’s, woven in shades to blend with the moorland, and deerskin boots, and this close to him I could see Donnalch in the shape of his chin and his eyes. He turned to his cousin. “You will walk with the lady Lena, Kebhan,” he said.

  “I am not called lady, Kebhan,” I said, “nor are other women you might meet in the service of the Emperor.”

  He glanced at Ruar. “That is good to know,” he said. “How should I address you, then?”

  “By my rank, which is Guard,” I said, “or just by my name. You may also meet women who serve the Empire’s army but are not part of it. Such a woman you would call by her role: Cook, or Smith, if you did not know her name.”

  “I see,” he said in his soft voice. “In our lands, La…Lena, a woman of rank, and you must have such, if you stand as surrogate to the General Casyn’s daughters, is addressed as my lady, or Lady. You should expect this.”

  I frowned. “Rank in the Empire does not come from our fathers,” I said, “so if I had any rank, it would be from my mother, who is a council leader in our village. But we do not use such terms: rank and titles belong to the Empire’s armies, not the women’s villages.”

  “We both have much to learn,” Ruar said. “We must all try not to take offense at usages and customs not our own.” I frowned again: was he chastising me? But he turned away. “Come, Darel; Cadet Darel, yes?” he said. “We should follow our Teannasach and your Emperor down these steps. Are you ready?”

  Darel grinned. “Ready, Cadet Ruar.” They descended shoulder to shoulder, heads high. I looked down at Ruar. Eleven, maybe twelve, I thought. In the Empire, he would be choosing his path to service, whether on the boats, or as a cavalry cadet, or training to be a medic, just as I at twelve had chosen my apprenticeship. I wondered what the customs were, in the north.

  “Come, then, Guard Lena,” Kebhan said. A quick learner.

  “Cadet,” I replied, and we turned and walked together down the stairs.

  †††††

  Clouds scudded across the hills. We rode with the east wind in our faces, the thin spring sunlight holding little warmth. The track we followed was muddy; we kept the horses to a walk, and even so could not avoid being splattered.

  Near mid-morning our leader, Ardan, held up a hand to stop. Turning in his saddle, he called to me. “Lena, ride up beside me.” I did as he asked. We had stopped at the crest of what had felt like a gentle rise, but below us lay a long, deep valley, and in that valley stood a complex of buildings, built of grey stone. An L-shaped hall made one side of the complex, standing three storeys high and roofed in lichened, mossy slate; from each of its wings ran lower structures, and two or three free-standing smaller buildings surrounded the central courtyard. Trees sheltered it, and the rocky valley side. It looked, to my eyes, very old.

  "The Ti'ach,” Ardan said, gesturing. “Also called Ti’ach na Perras, for Perras, who heads this house, and to distinguish it from the others. Here you will live, for the duration of the agreement, and be treated as any other woman who had come here to learn.”

  Looking down, I swallowed my apprehension, studying the buildings to make sense of what I saw. Smoke rose from several chimneys. Someone came out of one of the smaller buildings, a basket in her arms, and began to peg out washing on a line. Others worked in what I thought was probably a garden plot, preparing the ground. It looked peaceful, nestled in its valley, undisturbed.

  We rode down a switch-back path and over a stone bridge. The stream below ran rapidly, in full spring spate. In the paved courtyard, we dismounted. I held Clio’s reins, looking around me. On seeing us riding down the path, the woman hanging washing had left her basket to go into the large house, calling something as she went, so by the time we reached the courtyard several people had emerged from inside. I saw two young women—one no more than a girl—and a man a few years their senior, flanking a grey-haired man leaning on a stick, and an upright older woman beside him.

  It was the older woman who spoke. “Ardan,” she said. “Welcome back. We were not expecting you. Are the talks completed then? Is there peace?”

  “My lady,” Ardan said. “There is a truce: six months to replenish our food supplies, on both sides of the Wall. Our Teannasach and the southern Emperor have proclaimed it, and during this truce, they will negotiate a longer peace, it is hoped. For surety, hostages have been exchanged. One has been sent here. I bring her to you: this woman, Lena, who stands hostage for the General Casyn.”

  As Ardan spoke I stepped forward, Clio obediently following. In the silence, I could hear her mouthing her bit. The older woman smiled.

  “Welcome to Ti'ach na Perras, Lena,” she said. “I am Dagney, and this,” she gestured to the man beside her, “is Perras, Comiádh to this house. Ardan, will someone take Lena’s horse, please?” I felt Clio’s reins taken from my hand, heard her turn away. “Come,” Dagney said, beckoning. She and Perras turned to walk back into the house. One of the younger women waited. “Come,” she repeated. “I am Jordis. Are you tired, from your ride?”

  I bristled at the implication of weakness. “No, my lady,” I answered. “I am used to riding; I am a Guard in the Emperor’s troops, and have ridden the length of the Empire twice. A few hours in the saddle is nothing.”

  “Oh, dear,” she said, flushing. “I have offended you. But, a Guard? I did not know women served in the troops. Please forgive me…will you tell me more?” I realized she was flustered, and younger than I had thought. I stopped bristling.

  “It is I who should apologize,” I said. “You only asked what anyone would of a traveller. I am happy to tell you more, but,” I looked over at the doorway, “should we not go inside, as the Lady Dagney indicated?”

  “Oh. Yes,” she said. I followed her up the shallow steps into the house. The door opened into a wide hall, lit only by small windows. The air smelled of stone and a smoke that was not woodsmoke, but something sharper. As my eyes adjusted I could see a long table and chairs standing on the flagged floor. At one end of
the room a huge fireplace dominated; cabinets lined the opposite wall. Perras and Dagney, and the other man and girl waited, standing, at the table. The room was cold.

  “Jordis,” Dagney said gently. “Please go and fetch tea. Lena, will you sit?” Chairs were drawn. I took the one that Dagney indicated, draping my cloak over the back. Everyone sat, the young man last, after helping Dagney with her chair.

  “Let me introduce you,” Dagney said. “This is Niav,” she indicated the girl, “and,” nodding to the man, “this is Sorley. They are students here, as, I assume, you are to be?”

  “I suppose I am,” I said, “my lady. Your Teannasach,” I stumbled a bit over the unfamiliar title, “said I should come here.” I tried to remember his words. “He said he would send me here, because I like to read, and write, and this is where sons and daughters of your land come, if that is what they are drawn to.”

  “The Teannasach was a student here himself,” Dagney said, “for a while. He still visits, when he can. Now, Lena, tell us a bit about yourself. Where are you from?”

  “Tirvan,” I said. “It’s a fishing village, on the coast, south of Berge and Delle.” I saw Perras nod. “I had a boat there, with my partner. We were separated, in the preparations for the invasion by Leste, and later I went south, to find her, and for other reasons. The search took me to our Emperor’s winter camp, and I was there when…” I hesitated. What did I say to these people? It had been their men we had fought against.

  “When the Teannasach took his men through the Wall,” Perras said, his voice precise and measured.

  “Yes,” I agreed. “When that news reached us.” I warmed to Perras, coming subtly to my aid as he had.

  “And you came north, to the fighting?” Dagney asked. “I also did not realize women fought at the Wall.”