Queens of the Sea

by Kim Wilkins

  ‘Look!’ Eadric said, and through the trees she saw an inn.

  ‘We have come too close to the road,’ Goldie said.

  It was as though Ivy was under some kind of spell. Now the thought of firelight and food had glimmered into her imagination, her feet were no longer hers.

  ‘Ivy, we oughtn’t,’ Goldie said, but even she did not sound convinced of her own advice.

  ‘It smells like pork,’ Eadric squawked in excitement.

  Ivy glanced at Goldie questioningly. ‘Food and shelter,’ she said. ‘We are a long way from Sæcaster now.’

  ‘We are a woman and three children travelling alone. We will be noticed.’

  ‘Just for one night. So we can dry off and eat and sleep properly. We are nearly halfway there.’ Ivy cupped the back of Edmund’s mousy head. ‘The boys will be able to endure the rest of the journey better after a proper rest.’

  ‘We will be noticed,’ Goldie said again, but made no further protests. Even she knew it was not a day to be outside.

  They made their way through the trees, but had to wade through a stream to find the path leading to the inn’s front door. The place was small but crowded, and Goldie’s warning that they would be noticed hit Ivy full force when a sea of eyes turned on them – wet, muddy, bedraggled – as she closed the door behind her.

  Ivy gathered the children around closely and moved towards the bar. Murmurs followed in her wake. She made up her mind then that they wouldn’t be staying the night. They would eat a meal by the fire, hopefully dry their shoes, but then take themselves back into the anonymity of the woods. The children would not like it, but she did not want to risk having all these rough people know which room she slept in.

  Warm feet and a full belly cracked her resolve a little, and she let the children play inside by the fire for longer than she’d intended. The rain outside deepened and the inn grew more crowded. No doubt many travellers were taking shelter from the rough weather. Ivy felt hot, pressed in on all sides. But the children were playing a game with counters on a board, which they had found unattended on one of the tables, and they looked happy and relaxed for the first time in days. Ivy remained alert, constantly scanning the room for people who might be watching them. Nobody seemed much interested, apart from a woman who drank alone in a corner. Of middling years, with steely grey hair but a kind face. Ivy assumed she was simply concerned about the three wet children in Ivy’s care, and put it out of her mind.

  As the rain began to thin out, so did the travellers start to leave. Slowly, as the afternoon progressed, the crowd dissipated until Ivy knew they had to go, too.

  ‘Come, children,’ she said, pulling herself to her feet. ‘It’s fine enough to walk again.’

  Edmund’s immediate cry of ‘Noooo!’ was loud enough to crack the ceiling beams.

  Ivy pulled him against her and whispered harshly, ‘Shush, you little devil. We don’t want to cause a scene.’ She half-dragged, half-carried him to the door, Eadric and Goldie scurrying after her. The last thing she saw was the steely-haired woman with the kind eyes nod at her gently as if in understanding.

  Then they were outside. The wind had blown the rain away, but the sky was still heavy and grey. She released Edmund, who lapsed into hacking sobs, but nonetheless followed along beside her into the woods.

  ‘Where are we going, Mama?’ Eadric asked, dread in his voice. ‘I thought we would sleep in a bed tonight.’

  ‘Off the road, where we will find a nice tree to sleep under and look at the stars.’ She glanced at the sky. ‘When they come out.’

  Goldie held up a handful of kindling triumphantly. ‘I stole some kindling from the inn,’ she said. ‘My apron is full of it.’

  Ivy laughed despite herself. ‘Good girl. All of you are doing so well, and we are nearly at Blicstowe. A few more nights like the last, and we will be sleeping in royal chambers with servants and all the food we can eat.’

  ‘Yum!’ cried Eadric, clearly cheered by the amount he had already eaten at the inn.

  Only Edmund still cried, but even that faded to soft hiccoughs; and it really was very nice to have dry shoes again. On they went, into the afternoon.

  The cloud cover meant the dark came quickly, creeping into the woods before Ivy was properly prepared. She began to hurry her steps, making Eadric whine again (Ivy reasoned food had restored his whining energy), and rain began to fall softly. She was determined to be under cover before her shoes got wet again.

  Then, Goldie’s voice crying out, ‘Where is Edmund?’

  Heat hit Ivy’s heart with such force that it nearly knocked her over. She whirled, staring back into the approaching gloom. ‘Edmund? Was he not with you?’ When was the last time she had heard the little thump, thump of his footsteps? The soft sniffle of his miserable tears?

  ‘He was behind us,’ Goldie said, the guilt clear in her voice. ‘I checked on him five minutes ago.’

  Ivy cursed herself. It ought to have been her, and not Goldie, checking on the boy.

  ‘Edmund!’ Ivy called, running back the way they had come. She climbed a short ridge, and realised that Edmund wouldn’t have been able to get down here himself, and that he hadn’t called out to her for her help.

  ‘Edmund!’ The second cry hurt her throat. Eadric and Goldie began to shout too, as she ran back through the forest, eyes frantically scouring the trees for any sign of him. Nothing, nothing, and her voice was growing hoarse, and she had lost her baby, where was her baby, and – she ran full pelt into a person. The woman with the steely hair from the inn.

  A moment ago, she hadn’t been there and now she was. Ivy shook her head, dazed, then realised the woman had been hiding behind a tree.

  ‘Oh, thank all the gods,’ Ivy said. ‘I’ve lost one of my children. Have you seen –’

  But then there was a knife’s point in the curve of her waist and the woman said, ‘How much gold do you have?’

  Ivy gasped. Goldie and Eadric caught up, but could see no reason to fear the woman as they could not see her knife nor the way she had grasped the back of Ivy’s dress to pull her close.

  ‘We can’t find him!’ Goldie said. ‘Has this lady seen him?’

  ‘Come with me,’ the woman said, releasing the back of Ivy’s dress. ‘We have him.’

  ‘We? Who is –’

  But the woman was stalking away through the woods so there was no course of action but to follow her.

  Eadric’s questions fell over themselves – ‘Where are we going? Are we still looking for Edmund?’ – but Goldie was wise enough to know to stay quiet and follow. Ivy reassured herself over and over that the woman was taking her to Edmund and that was all that mattered and if that meant giving the woman all the gold coins she had, it was worth it to have her baby back.

  As the gloom deepened, they approached a rocky edifice deep in the woods, which trees clung to at precarious angles. Ivy could see firelight and knew they had arrived somewhere. The steel-haired woman led them to the opening of a cave, and there by the fire in a dry shirt that fell to his knees, sat Edmund, spooning soup into his mouth.

  ‘Mama!’ he said, with easy delight.

  Ivy rushed forward and crushed him against her. ‘Oh, you foolish boy. Never ever run off like that.’

  ‘His return will cost you,’ the steel-haired woman said, and it was then Ivy looked up and saw there were other people in the cave: a round-eyed young woman, and a middle-aged man, tall and slender with a neck crooked so far forward he resembled a vulture.

  ‘Who are you people?’ Ivy asked. ‘What kind of thieves steal children? What kind of women steal children?’

  ‘Save your breath,’ the steel-haired woman said. ‘My name is Vex. We steal whatever we have to so we survive. How much gold do you have? I saw you in the inn. You’re clearly well bred. Your clothes are fine colours. You must have some gold on you.’

  Ivy stood and worked her hand up under her dress until she found the little purse pinned there. ‘Here,’ she said, handing
it over to Vex. ‘Now let me and my children go.’

  Vex opened the purse and sniffed. ‘You have more.’

  ‘I don’t.’

  Vex grasped Ivy’s hand and twisted it towards her. ‘These rings tell me you have more.’

  ‘Take the rings.’

  ‘You are a nobleman’s wife. How much does he have?’

  ‘My husband is dead.’

  ‘Then he left you some. Where are you from? Where are you travelling to?’

  ‘Stop it!’ This was Goldie, boldly stepping into the cave. ‘We have nothing because we have run away!’

  This woke the curiosity of the vulture-like man, who asked, ‘Who have you run away from?’

  Ivy glanced at him. His eyes were watery and pale. The firelight created shadowy hollows under his cheeks. She didn’t answer; couldn’t answer. The weight of the last few days of hardship crushed her words in her mouth. Instead, she began to cry, nearly as hard as Edmund had when they had left the inn.

  In a moment, the three children had gathered around her. ‘Mama, don’t cry,’ Edmund said. ‘Shush, you little devil.’ He said this last in a soft, comforting tone, as though it was what one always said to somebody upset, and Ivy cried harder for having treated the poor children so harshly since she had dislodged them from their comfortable lives.

  To her surprise, Vex gently pulled her further into the cave and found her a place to sit by the fire. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘Sit down and cry yourself inside out. I’ll get you some soup. The children, too. Everybody sit down and stop crying.’

  Ivy noticed Vex had kept the purse.

  The fire was hot and high, occasionally leaping on the cold breeze. Ivy gratefully took the soup and managed to hold back her tears. Goldie sat protectively with her arms around Edmund and Eadric, as if she had sensed that Ivy was no longer in control.

  Vex squatted in front of Ivy while she ate. ‘We ran away too,’ she said, at length. ‘My name isn’t Vex. That is what I was accused of.’

  ‘By whom?’

  ‘My husband. I vexed him. So he drowned my baby – our baby – in a bucket.’

  Ivy thought she had misheard. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘I think you do. How the person you love can betray you more sharply than any other.’ She gestured to the young woman. ‘This is No. Her sin was that she said no. Her husband turned it into a yes. Many, many times; and sometimes brought his brothers too.’ Then she gestured to the man. ‘And this is Wander, who never did wander. But his wife believed he had, and she beat him every day of his life until he escaped.’

  No came to sit next to Ivy. ‘We found each other and made a little family of our own,’ she said.

  Even in the dim firelight, Ivy could see the dark patches of shame that crept onto Wander’s cheeks and neck.

  ‘Your wife beat you?’ Ivy asked, astonished. She hadn’t thought it was possible for a woman to beat a man.

  ‘We have all fled those we love,’ he said. ‘What is your name?’

  Ivy opened her mouth to say, ‘Ivy’, then realised that wasn’t what Wander was asking. ‘Stupid,’ she said. ‘Whore. Idiot. Fucking harlot. Fool. Slut.’ She let Crispin’s insults pour out of her, crying again. ‘All your fault, bad-tempered bitch,’ she finished, then gestured to Eadric. ‘He hit my boy.’

  Eadric, who had been staring gape-mouthed at his mother as she said every single word he was forbidden from saying, sat to attention and lifted his chin for the thieves to see his bruises.

  Vex nodded. ‘Those bastards choose the weak to torment; and if they can’t find the weak they’ll make the weak. Look at you. You may be covered in mud, but it’s easy to see you were not born in it. Your nobility and pride ought to have protected you. Instead, you endured it and grew weaker and weaker.’

  ‘You don’t seem weak,’ Ivy said, looking at her square shoulders and unerring gaze.

  ‘I left him twenty years ago. I have had time to grow strong again.’

  Ivy glanced around at the others. ‘And you go about stealing things?’

  ‘That’s what thieves do,’ No said with a little shrug. ‘Every one of us might have been killed if we’d been found by our tormentors. We had to live on the low roads.’

  ‘No’s husband found her nearly a year after she’d left,’ Vex said. ‘She only escaped through the kindness of the alehouse keeper she worked for. Should we risk making ourselves known in other towns? Marrying and bearing children who would be prey?’

  Ivy’s skin went cold. Would Crispin kill her if he found her? ‘I need to get to Blicstowe, to my sister,’ she said, fear making her leap to her feet. ‘Keep my money. Give us some bread to last a few more days.’

  ‘Blicstowe is occupied,’ Wander said. ‘It isn’t a place to be going to.’

  Ivy didn’t tell them it was her twin that had occupied Blicstowe.

  ‘Then the closest town to Blicstowe. I need to find my sister because she is strong and wealthy and I know she will help me and protect me.’

  ‘How wealthy?’ Vex asked.

  ‘Very wealthy.’

  Vex exchanged glances with the others, then said, ‘Sleep here tonight then. We will accompany you to Æcstede, where the refugees from Blicstowe have camped. We will make sure you are fed and protected on the way. Will your sister pay us for bringing you to her?’

  Ivy nodded enthusiastically, desperate to relieve herself of the burden of responsibility. ‘Yes, somebody will. Just … don’t let Crispin find me.’

  ‘Crispin?’ Vex said. ‘He’s the one that has made your eyes so fearful?’

  Ivy wasn’t sure how to answer. Perhaps she had always been fearful. Perhaps that’s why Crispin thought he could treat her as he did. Ivy nodded.

  ‘He won’t find you, Stupid. Not before he has found us,’ Vex said with a mischievous twist of her lips.

  At first Ivy bristled at being called Stupid, but then recalled it was the name she had chosen for herself. Or, rather, that Crispin had chosen for her.

  The thieves seemed delighted to have children around, and fussed about making up their beds and ensuring they were comfortable. Rain deepened beyond the cave but they were warm and dry inside, and once the children were asleep Ivy began to doze into her chest while the other adults were talking.

  ‘Here, lie down,’ Vex said, clearing a space between her and the children. ‘You must be exhausted.’

  ‘I am,’ she said. Then, when she had curled on her side and was drifting off to the sound of soft voices and firelight, she reached for Vex’s fingers and said, ‘Thank you for helping us.’

  ‘Psh. If this sister is as rich and powerful as you say, then we’re helping ourselves.’

  ‘Still,’ Ivy said. ‘You could have taken our money and let us make our own way.’

  Vex smiled. ‘We couldn’t have let that happen, Stupid,’ she said with a soft laugh. ‘The back roads are crawling with thieves.’

  Ivy smiled too, and closed her eyes to sleep.

  Twenty-six

  After Linden found his treasure, Tolan did not come by again. At first, Rose was busy enough with her sewing to keep the frustration at bay. But as the embroidered pattern around the collar grew, she knew that soon her work would be finished and they would need to be free. If they could get far enough from civilisation, she might never need to use her handiwork, and that thought was comforting. But Tolan gave no indication of when they might be let go, if at all.

  Linden was characteristically unperturbed. She supposed it made no difference to him whether they were in Winecombe or Druimach. He was comfortable, not hungry; he had his mother nearby. He spent his days playing or drawing and Rose envied his simple pleasures.

  Days crawled past. Olgrid was the only other face they saw. Every morning, Rose asked the old servant if Tolan was coming, and every morning she was told, ‘No. He is not.’

  She finished the shirt. Another stitch would ruin it, make it gaudy rather than magnificent. She folded it carefully away in her bag.
r />   Her fingers began to heal from the itchy red rash she’d developed while sewing it.

  Tolan didn’t come.

  One particularly blustery day, for no reason other than it had been going on for so long, Rose finally lost her temper with Olgrid. ‘Tell him I demand to see him! Tell him I will not be ignored like this!’

  Olgrid stilled the kindly hand that was stroking Linden’s hair. ‘My lady, he is not in Winecombe. Indeed, he is not in Tweoning.’

  ‘What? Then where is he? And why does he keep us here?’

  Olgrid averted her eyes. ‘There is … a war.’

  ‘A war?’

  ‘King Tolan says you aren’t to be fussed with such talk. He says you won’t believe it anyway.’

  Rose’s skin began to prickle. ‘Explain yourself,’ she said.

  Finally, Olgrid met her eyes. ‘Blicstowe has fallen and –’

  ‘This nonsense again! Did Tolan slip you an extra coin to say this? Or did you do it out of loyalty? I know you used to be his children’s nurse.’

  ‘No, quite the opposite,’ Olgrid protested. ‘He has told everyone to mention nothing of it to you, that he won’t have you and the boy upset.’

  Disbelief winded her. How could it be? ‘Then you are not lying?’

  ‘No. Why would I lie?’

  Rose did not answer, though she could think of many reasons. Tolan’s motivations were impossible to discern. Perhaps his entire purpose was to keep her in a pervading sense of doubt.

  She knew she could trust nobody within the compound, so she withdrew her questions. She would have no satisfaction on this rumour until she had been released, and with Tolan away, there was no telling when that would be. She stalked to the chair by the fire and stared implacably at the flames, waiting until Olgrid was gone before looking up.

  Linden, drawing his maps.

  She had never once asked him. The thought of it made her ill with guilt.

  She rose and went to him. He was working on the large map, the one with rivers and cities drawn on it. She caught a glimpse of a series of arrows, marking out a route, but then he slid the map under his arm so she couldn’t see it.