“Not at all, Teannasach,” Cillian said, his voice icy. “Lady Dagney was housed in the women’s hall; she would hear the gossip. The Marai women may not have been privy to what happened to me, but they would know that the Guardswoman had escaped. The scáeli would have worked out that we had gone together.”
Lorcann grunted. “Perhaps,” he acceded. “But still I do not understand why you brought her along at all.”
“She proposed stealing a boat, saying it would be faster than foot or horseback. I could see she was right. She can sail; I cannot. Speed was of the essence, and so I brought her with me.”
“To raid an innocent fisher family of their boat, and thereby their livelihood,” Lorcann pointed out. “A crime against the truce, even before the murder.”
“Would stealing a horse from a torp have been any better?” Cillian countered.
“Yes, man, it would have been,” Lorcann said. “Firstly, one horse would not destroy a torp. It would be a poor Harr who had only one beast. Because you chose to allow the woman to go with you, you left a boy of twelve years an orphan, and with no boat for him to barter or trade for a place in another fishing family, so that he must throw himself on the charity of his Harr, or take to the roads in search of work.”
“And secondly?” Cillian asked. His insouciance shocked me. Was he deliberately baiting Lorcann?
“D’you need to ask?” Lorcann scoffed. “There would have been no murder had you gone alone. Even had you raised the house while stealing the horse, I doubt more than a few blows and bruises would have resulted. The fisherman, himself a widower, found a woman under his hands as he wrestled with the person stealing his boat. What would you expect of him? He had the right to take what he wanted, under the circumstances. The murder is on the southern woman’s head, but you are not innocent, man.”
“You think that his right?” The words burst out of me. “Do women mean so little to you, Teannasach?” I spat the title. “Do you approve of how Fritjof treats the Marai women, then?”
The wall torches seemed to dim, leaving a circle of light around us, and darkness beyond. Lorcann glared at me. “Be silent, and be glad I am not your judge,” he said. He turned back to Cillian.
“I believe you not, man,” he said. “So, hear your doom. You are a man of Linrathe, and I am your Teannasach. I condemn you to death on these charges. At dawn, Cillian na Perras, your head will be on a spear, for the instruction of all.”
The words echoed in the silence of the hall. Cillian’s guard took him roughly by the upper arm, pulling him away. I looked from Lorcann to Callan, and back again.
“What,” Cillian said, his voice almost conversational, “if I am not a man of Linrathe?”
Chapter Twenty
I could hear my heart in my ears. Cillian, head high, stared at the two leaders at the high table. Long moments passed.
“Tell me your mother’s name, Cillian na Perras,” the Emperor said, his voice pitched low.
“Hafwen,” Cillian answered. “Her father was Hael, her mother, Mari. I was born just as winter changed to spring, thirty-three years ago.”
“What is this?” Lorcann demanded. “He was a bastard child of a farm girl, it is true, but so are many others. He is still mine to rule and to judge.”
“Not if a man of the Empire claims him as his child,” Casyn said from beside me. “That agreement was made in Mathon’s day, Teannasach, if you recall.”
“Aye,” Lorcann said angrily, “but it was about children, not grown men. Nor has such a claim been made in many years.”
“That does not void the agreement,” Casyn said.
“So? It is well known that Cillian na Perras’s mother never named his father. He has no name to put forward, even if the soldier is still alive and willing to make the claim. You cannot pull yourself out of a well on a thread, man,” he said, his eyes on Cillian, “and a thread is all you have. Accept your fate.”
“You agree the father was a man of the Empire?” Casyn asked.
“Aye, that was always the story,” Lorcann replied, “and I’ve no reason to believe it a lie. Had the father been a farm lad, there would have been a wedding, with the child born six months later. A nine-days whisper, but no shame to it.”
“Then, Teannasach, were the father to claim Cillian na Perras, even now, do you agree he has that right? And that Cillian na Perras has the right to accept that claim, and be named a man of the Empire, not of Linrathe, by the agreement made between Mathon, Emperor of the South, and Iaco of Linrathe?” Callan spoke with authority, his voice that of the law-maker, the Emperor. Lorcann glowered.
“Aye, I suppose I do,” he muttered.
Callan stood. He looked at his brother, a long gaze, before turning his eyes to Cillian. “Then, in the sight of this court, I, Callan, Emperor of the South, son of Col of the Sixth and Alle of Rigg, acknowledge this man, Cillian, to be my son, borne by Hafwen of Linrathe.”
I heard a muffled sound from Cillian’s guard, silenced by Lorcann’s bark. “What? You claim him?”
“I do,” Callan said. “He is my son, although I only learned of his birth yesterday. Do you dispute my right to do so, Teannasach?”
Lorcann shot his eyes to the Cillian’s guard, and then to the door, and back again. Like a cornered fox. “No,” he grunted finally. “If it suits you to be the one who executes him, rather than me, what do I care? It’s all the same in the end.”
The Emperor turned back to Cillian. “I ask you, Cillian of Linrathe,” he said, “if you wish to acknowledge this claim and become Cillian of the Empire, accepting the responsibilities to the Empire that such an acknowledgement would bring.”
“I do,” Cillian said, his voice steady. “What words must I say?”
“That you acknowledge your mother by name, and me as your father, and that you will serve the Empire.”
Cillian nodded. “I, Cillian, son of Hafwen of Linrathe, acknowledge Callan, Emperor of the South, as my father, and I pledge to serve the Empire, and,” he added, “to accept the judgement of the Emperor as to my fate.”
“I, Casyn, General of the Empire, witness this.” Casyn touched my shoulder. I glanced at him. He nodded.
“I, Lena, Guardswoman of the Empire, witness this,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
All eyes were on Lorcann. Callan gestured politely. “Would you prefer your soldier to witness?” Lorcann’s lips clenched. He stood, slowly.
“I, Lorcann, Teannasach of Linrathe, witness this,” he spat. “Let him go,” he said to the guard. He turned to Callan. “He is yours, Emperor. I presume I am welcome to witness the sentencing?”
“You are, of course, Teannasach,” Callan said. “Shall we sit, and continue the trial?” His eyes held Lorcann’s. The northman’s jaw twitched. With a bare nod, he sat.
When the scrape of the chairs had subsided, the Emperor spoke again. “Cillian,” he said, “tell us what you saw happening between the Guardswoman and the fisherman.”
“The Guardswoman fell as she approached the boat,” he answered. “The fisherman was in pursuit. That was my fault. I broke a piece of wood underfoot, on the beach, and the sound roused the cot. When he reached her, they struggled, but he was forcing her against him, not pushing her away. That I could see, in the dark, but nothing more. Then he fell into the water. That is all I can say. The night was black.”
“Thank you,” Callan said. “Guardswoman.”
I tried to speak, but my throat was as dry as salt fish. I coughed, and tried again. “Yes, Emperor?” I croaked.
“Cillian na Perras argues that the Teannasach of Linrathe approved his plan of escape, knowing it risked his own life. Did the Teannasach know of your plan to accompany him?”
“No, sir,” I said. “Not that I am aware.”
“Did anyone other than Cillian know?”
I shook my head. “No. The Lady Dagney asked, but I did not tell her, thinking it might be dangerous for her.”
“Cillian, did you tell the Tean
nasach that the Guardswoman was accompanying you?”
“No, Emperor.”
“Guardswoman, you knew your plans were dangerous, as you declined to let the Lady Dagney know them. But you did not think of the danger to the Teannasach?”
I hesitated. How to put this? “I knew the Lady Dagney thought his life in danger already,” I said. “I did not think my escape would add to that danger.”
Callan nodded. He looked at Cillian, and then at me, and then at Casyn, a long gaze.
“Guardswoman Lena, of Tirvan,” he said. “Cillian of the Empire. I find you both guilty of the second charge, the violation of the truce between the Empire and Linrathe, an action which directly led to the death of the Teannasach of Linrathe. The charge is treason. The punishment is death.”
I closed my eyes. Cillian’s gamble had been for nothing. A trembling began deep inside me. I heard a chair scrape as someone stood. I swallowed, and opened my eyes. Callan was on his feet.
“I, Callan, Emperor of the South, sentence the Guardswoman Lena and the man Cillian to death, a sentence I commute to banishment, exile from the bounds of the Empire for all time, as is my right as Emperor. Lena of Tirvan, you are stripped of your rank in the Empire’s army. Cillian of the Empire, Lena of Tirvan, you have three days to leave the boundaries of this land.”
Banishment. I heard the word. Banishment. I was not going to die.
“Nae, Emperor, I cannot support that!” Lorcann cried. The punishment for treason is death, and my brother’s fate demands it. You cannot exile them instead!”
“I can,” Callan said calmly. “It is within my right as Emperor, and there is precedence, as your brother would have known.”
“You tricked me!” Lorcann shouted. “Guard, seize Cillian na Perras!”
Before the man could react, Cillian broke: running, he placed his hands flat on the table, vaulting it to stand beside the Emperor. Casyn pushed me roughly behind him, drawing his sword, shouting. A door flung open. Soldiers rushed into the room, swords drawn. Casyn raised a hand.
“Teannasach,” he said, “think again. Think of your own son, and that of your brother. We hold them hostage still, do not forget.”
Lorcann looked around him. Outnumbered, Cillian’s guard stood with weapons in their hands, but warily. Lorcann gestured to them, and they sheathed their swords. I sagged against Casyn, hearing my heart pounding in my ears. He took my weight with one arm, the other still holding his sword. Lorcann turned to the Emperor.
“Be uncertain of your peace, Callan of the Empire,” he snarled. “I must weigh my choices: alliance with the man who killed my brother, or alliance with the man who forgave the instruments of his death. Which is the worse choice, I wonder?”
“I say again, remember your hostages, Teannasach,” Callan said softly. “But I too have lost a brother to treachery. I know how you feel.”
“Do you?” Lorcann retorted. “And did you not kill both the murderer, and those who made the murder possible? And without trial, I believe?”
“For directly plotting treason, yes,” Callan replied. “Not for the unintended consequence of an action to warn of impending invasion.”
Lorcann stared at him. “And I say again, be uncertain of your peace. The King of the Marai has made me certain offers. I must consider them, even in light of your threats. Come,” he ordered Cillian’s guard. He stalked out of the hall, the torches guttering as the massive doors opened and closed.
Callan turned to the soldiers. “Escort them out to their horses,” he said. “Be respectful of his position.”
When the soldiers had gone, Callan took a deep breath. “Cillian,” he said. “Be seated. You too, Lena. Casyn, will you call for food and drink?” I stumbled to a chair. “You must ride in the morning,” he said. “There will be an escort, to the Durrains, for that is where you must go, of course.”
The Durrains. The wall of mountains on the Empire’s eastern edge. Beyond it, what? Once, there had been another Empire past those mountains, an Empire of learning and skill and a love of beauty, if the floor of the White Fort told me anything. The east, where no one in living memory had gone, except Fritjof of the Marai and his men. Who had not died of disease, and had returned to tell their tales.
Birel came in with food, more of the rich cake, cheese, wine. I accepted wine, and water. Cillian folded a piece of cake in half and ate it in three bites. I realized how exhausted he must be. Birel poured wine for the Emperor and Casyn, and then withdrew.
Cillian swallowed the last of his cake. He took a cup of wine, sipped, and then put it down. “Did you get what you needed, Emperor?” he asked.
A hint of smile played around Callan’s lips. “I did,” he said. “Lorcann, as I feared, is untrustworthy. He is still in communication with Fritjof, I would think. It is power he wants, not leadership. I will have to give thought as to what I can offer him, to keep him with me.”
“Wait,” I said. “This was planned? How?”
“Not planned,” Cillian said, with a glance to Callan. “Played, hoping I saw the board rightly. But it was you who told me that the Emperor and I shared a trait, a gift, if you will, for tactics and outcomes. What would I need to know, I wondered, were I the Emperor in this situation?”
“If Lorcann could be trusted,” I said, slowly, working it out. “So,” I turned to Callan, “you let him judge Cillian first, and then you over-rode him, to discover his reaction.”
“Exactly,” the Emperor said.
“Once again, Emperor,” I said, “we are pieces in your game.”
“You could say that,” Callan said. “But if so, it was one in which your life was a wager on the outcome, and Cillian was a willing player.”
“Not willing, quite,” Cillian said. “Compelled, for our lives, I would say.”
Callan inclined his head, ceding the point. “Successfully,” he noted.
“Yes,” I said, all the fear and grief of the last days welling up. “And for that I am grateful. But my life has been a wager in your games for far too long now, Emperor. I thank you for saving it, and Cillian’s, and as for mine I take it as fair payment for what you have asked of me, but no more. No more, Emperor. I welcome this exile, to be beyond your games.” White-hot anger flared, goading me into these words. Did I mean them? Yes, I realized, I did. I had had enough.
“Lena,” Casyn began.
“No!” I stopped him. “Casyn, no. I mean what I said. Cillian told me once he had no love for Empires; I understand him now. I am sorry if I disappoint you, but I am not a Guardswoman any more, and can speak my mind to you both. I have had enough of tactics, of intrigues and half-truths. I will be glad to leave.”
“We have asked much of you, Lena,” Callan said, a note of regret in his voice, “and you have served us well. But do not judge us too harshly. Even my actions, regardless of my reputed gift for strategy, may have unforeseen consequences, no matter how thorough the planning, and half-truths are sometimes all the truths we know.” He gave me a smile, his eyes gentle, before turning to his son.
“Cillian,” the Emperor said. “Before anything else, I have one thing to ask, and one to tell.”
“Ask first,” Cillian said.
“Did Donnalch truly approve your escape, knowing the risk to his life?”
A brief smile touched Cillian’s lips. “I told him my plan. He said this, and nothing more: ‘My brother must know that being Teannasach is about serving our people, not having them serve the Teannasach.’ I took that to mean he knew he would die, and Lorcann would be the Teannasach.”
“A fair interpretation,” Callan said.
“And to tell me, Emperor?”
Callan’s eyes were shadowed, the firelight accentuating the planes of his face. “I truly loved her, Cillian. But when I came back to the Wall, Wenna was dead, and no one told me of a child. Had I known, I would have acknowledged you, Cillian, with pride.”
“Had you known,” Cillian echoed. “But you did not: I was one of those unforeseen cons
equences, I suppose. I have lived my life half in exile, so perhaps, like Lena, I am ready to make it full exile, away from those who have judged me on my parentage, or lack of it. I too thank you for my life, twice, I suppose, both in the begetting and the saving.” He raised his wine. “To the Emperor, then, for his benevolence.”
“To the Emperor,” Casyn repeated, standing. I too stood. “For my life, I thank you, Emperor,” I said, as coldly as I could, surprised to feel the prick of tears. We drank the toast.
Callan stood, wearily. “Sleep, now,” he said. “Birel will find you beds. Tomorrow you ride east.”
“A moment,” I said. “I have one more thing to do. Where is Turlo?”
“Not here,” Casyn said. “He commands our troops still in Linrathe.”
Regret and relief washed through me. “Is there paper?” I said. Casyn found me what I needed. I sat at the great table. ‘I will remember Darel. He was brave and stalwart and full of fun,’ I wrote. ‘I will carry my guilt and sorrow for his death all my life.’ Then I signed my name, folded the paper, and handed it to Callan. With a nod, he left the room, Cillian with him.
“Lena,” Casyn began, his voice gentle.
“Casyn,” I said, forestalling whatever he was about to say. “You told me, once, that you did not want to be a general, when you were my age. Will you tell me why?”
He laughed, a brief, mirthless bark. “Because I too hated the games, the shading of the truth, the stories we told and were told. But Callan was so good at it, at seeing how to make things happen—but he was impulsive, undisciplined: the affair with Wenna, the note he tried to leave, both were proof of that. I had to be by his side, advising him, to keep him safe. He is my brother. So, I did what I had to, although I prefer shoeing horses. I never thought he would rise so high.” In the firelight, his face was weary, drawn with fatigue, and, perhaps, regret.
“Thank you,” I said. He smiled.
“Sleep now, Lena,” he said, “for a few hours. I will not see you again. My duty is to Callan.”
I nodded. I felt no surprise, just the bleak realization of the inevitable, like waking on a November morning to see the first snowfall, knowing it presaged the hardship of winter. I had no tears left. My eyes were as dry as autumn leaves, and the taste of ashes was in my mouth.
Empire's Legacy- The Complete Trilogy Page 62