Queens of the Sea

by Kim Wilkins

  She hated the feelings she had looking at them, and hurried back to Vex to say, ‘Take me to the town. Not … not down there.’

  ‘Your sister?’

  ‘She’ll be in the town.’ Ivy swallowed hard. Soon the thieves would find out she wasn’t Stupid from Nowhere. They’d know she was a princess, a duchess, connected to the most powerful family in Thyrsland. By then she would be safe, though. They couldn’t snatch her children and demand money for their return.

  They skirted the field and took the road into town. Soldiers everywhere, mail ringing. Wander placed Goldie on the ground and she moved closer to Ivy, grasping her hand.

  ‘The crow mother won’t be here, will she?’ Goldie asked.

  ‘No. This army is here to protect us from the crow mother, if she tries to get close.’

  Goldie did not look reassured, and glued herself to Ivy’s hip.

  They made their way across the crowded town square, where the misery was less muddy and thus less severe, and Ivy led them to the alderman’s house and pushed open the door.

  The room was full of soldiers, but the more important-looking ones with sashes and clean hair. Maps lay on tables. People spoke in hushed, urgent voices.

  Before Ivy had a chance to search the room with her gaze, a guard had stepped in front of them and said, ‘You can’t come in here.’

  Vex stiffened, as though ready to bolt from authority. Ivy stilled her with a gentle hand on her elbow.

  Another voice then, from the table at the centre of the room: ‘Princess Ivy!’

  ‘Princess …’ No said.

  ‘Who is your sister?’ Vex managed in a strangled voice.

  Sighere approached, waved the guard away and took both of Ivy’s hands. ‘I am so relieved to lay eyes on you,’ he said. ‘We had word from Sæcaster that you had disappeared, feared dead.’

  ‘I am alive,’ Ivy said. ‘I fled from Sæcaster after the Captain of the Guard threatened me and the children.’ She almost didn’t dare ask. ‘Has he … is he here?’

  Sighere frowned darkly. ‘No, my lady. Nobody has come from Sæcaster. Your captain sent word that he will send no soldiers. He is no friend of Ælmesse.’ He glanced over her shoulder at her party, gave them an imperious look.

  Ivy gestured to them with a forced, bright smile. ‘I need to pay these good people who gave me safe passage all the way here.’

  Sighere’s expression softened. He nodded and waved over a portly man whose fighting years were behind him. ‘Pay these folk,’ he said. ‘Generously.’

  ‘Where is Bluebell?’ Ivy asked.

  As the portly man handed the astonished thieves a handful of coins each, Sighere said, ‘Bluebell is not here. She has gone west to assemble a force that can defeat Willow.’

  Goldie shrank even closer against her.

  ‘When will she return?’

  Sighere frowned. ‘I had expected her back by now. Everyone had expected her back by now. The situation is becoming intolerable. The refugees are on the verge of revolt. They won’t listen to my reassurances any more.’ He suddenly brightened. ‘Ivy, would you go to them and help them? Would you fetch water and hand out kindling? If you could reassure them, as a daughter of Blicstowe, that might help.’

  ‘Help them?’ Ivy wanted help. Ivy wanted a warm bath and a soft bed and a full belly.

  ‘We will all help,’ No said to Ivy. ‘If Wander can stay here with the children, Vex and I will go down to the camp with you.’

  ‘I will come too,’ Goldie said, in her soft voice.

  Something shifted inside Ivy, and days of fear and exhaustion rolled over her. Tears pricked her eyes. These thieves, who had nothing, who had just been given enough money to keep away hardship for a year, would willingly go directly to the camp to help. Goldie, who was little and must surely be tired, also thought nothing of offering to pitch in. Ivy, who had everything, had only thought of her own comfort. They were so good. She was so bad.

  Maybe she could be better.

  She sniffed back her tears. ‘I would be honoured if you would come with me,’ she said to Vex and No and Goldie.

  ‘We’ll send a guard with you, in case,’ Sighere said. ‘If they ask about Bluebell, tell them she will be here very soon.’

  ‘Will she?’ Ivy asked.

  Sighere’s eyes clouded over. ‘I wish for it most passionately,’ he said. ‘All we have now is hope.’

  Every second that Wengest made her wait was a second Rose feared the worst. He had taken one look at Linden, shaken his head with a cruel smile, then ordered the boy and Rose carried off in different directions. Rose had screamed at him, but he had refused to answer. She only heard him say to the guard who held a confused-looking Linden, ‘Be gentle with the boy!’

  Last time she and Wengest had encountered each other, he had taken away her first baby. Now he had her second.

  She paced the tent, her stomach cramping with panic. Two guards stood at the entrance, ignoring her pleading and crying. Hours passed, and the shadows grew long. Night fell. A young soldier came to her with food, stoked a fire and rolled out a mat for her to sleep on, but would not answer any of her questions. He handed her some blankets.

  ‘As if I can sleep, not knowing where my son is,’ she said.

  Then a commotion at the entrance to the tent. A big man with a straggly grey beard appeared and thrust Linden towards her. ‘You are both to wait here and travel with our train to Æcstede in the morning,’ he said.

  ‘Where is Wengest? I need to speak to him!’ Rose said, her hand so tight around Linden that he wriggled.

  But the man said nothing. He and the younger soldier left and the flap at the entrance to the tent was closed. She could hear them tying the leather straps that threaded through the front of it, and knew she and Linden would not be leaving.

  Rose fell to her knees in front of Linden. ‘Did he hurt you?’

  Linden looked back at her with big eyes, but said nothing. He looked neither happy nor sad.

  ‘Wengest is your papa,’ she told him. ‘I am sorry I never said so until now.’

  A slight tilt of the head.

  ‘I thought it safer if you were both unknown to each other. Maybe I was wrong to do so …’ She trailed off, despair and fear washing over her. She pressed Linden against her and held him until he began to fidget. The fire was warm, but cold wind licked under the hem of the tent.

  Finally she released him. ‘Have you eaten? I don’t suppose you have.’

  Rose was reminded that, no matter how distressing the circumstances, she still had to make sure her boy ate and slept. She sat him on the grass by the fire and together they picked over the bread and cheese that had been brought in, then she prepared him for bed, accompanied only by the sounds of the wind and distant voices.

  After she had told him a story, curled up on her side around him in the blankets, she kissed his ear and said, ‘Goodnight, L inden. I love you.’

  He took her wrist in his hand and squeezed it tenderly. Rose choked on a sob. He closed his eyes and she watched him drift off by the light of the fire, too exhausted to fight sleep.

  As the fire burned low she remained curled around Linden, but she could not sleep. She was on the verge of losing something so precious to her. Did she dare do what it took to protect herself and her boy?

  When she heard low voices outside the tent, and the laces being drawn, she sat up.

  The flap lifted and Wengest crouched there. Rose let out a little gasp.

  Wengest lifted his hand and said, ‘Please. Do not wake him.’

  Rose placed a protective arm over Linden. ‘Leave me be, Wengest.’

  ‘Come away. Come talk to me.’

  ‘I will not leave him here without me. I do not trust you.’

  Wengest nodded, then ducked under the opening and into the tent. ‘Then we will talk in here, but softly. The lad needs his sleep.’

  Rose wanted to explode with violent words. What would Wengest know about what ‘the lad’ needed? H
e had never been Linden’s father in any real sense. He had provided nothing but a seed, and that received by Rose reluctantly, she was sure.

  Wengest settled next to the fire and added another bog brick, without asking her if she was cold. As the flames crept higher, Rose finally left Linden’s side and came to sit with Wengest.

  ‘Please don’t take him from me,’ she said.

  ‘He’s mine, isn’t he?’

  Rose thought about lying, but realised Wengest wasn’t asking for confirmation. His eyes had already told him the truth.

  Rose nodded, tight-lipped.

  ‘And why should I not take him? A male heir. The thing I need most in the world.’

  ‘Because you took our first child,’ Rose said. ‘And it would be too cruel to take the second.’

  ‘Ah,’ he countered. ‘But Rowan was not mine.’

  Rose tried to keep the shock from her face. Wengest knew about Rowan?

  ‘Yes, yes, Rose. From the moment your infidelity was confirmed, I knew.’

  ‘Then why did you take her? Why did you go on with the lie that she was of the blood of both Ælmesse and Netelchester?’

  ‘Because it was easier,’ he said. ‘Because I already loved her. Because I knew she was Heath’s daughter, and he is my nephew and thus of Netelchester too, no matter what ragged tribe he has now joined.’ Wengest’s eyes flicked down and he said in a quieter voice, ‘Because I wanted to punish you.’

  Rose fell silent.

  ‘I’m not proud,’ he said.

  ‘Nor am I,’ Rose conceded. ‘So you knew it was Heath?’

  ‘I had seen the way you looked at each other. The rest I guessed. He disappeared. Then you did.’

  ‘And would you have killed him if you had found him?’

  ‘He’s my nephew. No. I wanted you to think I would.’ He shifted. His voice grew gruff. ‘I loved you, Rose. Your betrayal … it cut me very deep. Admitting Rowan was not my child would have made a fool of me on top of that. But having her there was torture; her smile, all her mannerisms, reminded me of you. I sent her off to the Howling Wood with Skalmir Hunter. When she returned to me, the worst of the pain had passed. It was easier to love her. I have been a good father to that girl. I suppose you know she ran away from me?’

  ‘She ran away to us.’

  ‘I heard. I was on my way to fetch her when Blicstowe fell. I was ready to forgive you and Heath, too.’ He shrugged a little, and the jewels pinned on his cloak rattled against each other. ‘I had no idea about Linden.’ He fell silent a moment then said, ‘Why does he not speak?’

  ‘He never has.’

  ‘And have you tried to teach him? I can’t have an heir that can’t speak.’

  ‘Of course I’ve tried.’

  ‘I tried too, but with no luck. Perhaps he is wilful. Did you punish him? I don’t suppose you did. You were always too soft on Rowan too.’

  ‘Punish?’ Rose shook her head. ‘Please don’t take him,’ she said again.

  ‘I will take him, Rose, but the details are yet to be clear,’ he said. ‘There is a battle to be fought. Your sister Bluebell calls in a heavy debt from us. Once all is restored to how it was, we will talk at greater length about Linden’s ties to Netelchester. My new wife, Marjory, has failed to fall pregnant and …’ Here he laughed bitterly. ‘I am tired of trying with her.’

  ‘Linden belongs in Druimach.’

  ‘He’s seven. Past the age where he might be sent out to apprentice.’

  ‘But Linden is different. You see for yourself, he does not speak.’

  Wengest raised his hands. ‘I will not discuss his future now. It is not the right time. He only needs some strong discipline to break his strange ways.’ He climbed to his feet. ‘At first light we are marching to Æcstede. Will you and Linden go on foot or do I need to empty a cart for you?’

  Rose thought about the shirt, folded neatly in her pack. Despite all the care she had invested in the stitching, she remained unsure whether or not she wanted to give it to him. What a coward she was after all. ‘We can march,’ she said.

  ‘Good.’ He adopted a stern expression. ‘Don’t try to run away, Rose. I will always find you. Every king in Thyrsland will report to me, as Tolan did.’

  Rose did not meet his eye.

  He stood and opened the flap. Then he turned back, struggling with his words for a few moments. Finally, he said, ‘I still love you, Rose.’

  Rose was shocked into silence.

  His face worked. He was embarrassed. He dropped his head and left.

  By mid-morning the next day, Wengest’s army had reached Æcstede, the closest town to Blicstowe. The noise and smell from the refugee camp made Rose’s head and heart hurt. She was grateful to be ushered ahead of the army, who would have to make camp nearby, and into the town, where the alderman Cadwell’s wife Nettie awaited them at the edge of the crowded square. Word had been sent ahead that they were coming.

  ‘Princess Rose,’ she said, pulling Rose into a brief embrace. ‘It has been many years since I’ve seen you, and then you were little more than twenty.’

  Rose had a brief impression of the woman’s bony spine and a soft middle, then was gently pushed out at arm’s length. She had no recollection of the woman at all, and felt guilty for it. ‘It is good to see you too,’ she managed. The wind was high and blew leaves in a swirl across the square, catching on people’s clothes and in their hair.

  ‘I am so sorry that we meet again in such terrible circumstances,’ Nettie said. ‘But with you and your sister Ivy in Æcstede, I could not in good conscience let you sleep among soldiers or desperate folk. I have made room for you in my house. Please follow me, the little fellow too. My, but you’re a handsome young fellow.’

  ‘Ivy is here?’

  ‘Well, I have Ivy’s children here,’ Nettie explained, leading her to a nearby building and pushing open a wooden door. ‘But Ivy herself is out in the fields, hauling water for the refugees, I believe.’

  ‘Ivy? Hauling water for refugees?’

  ‘Yes, she arrived two days ago and seems determined to do good, although I caution her that she must rest. Her little ones are delightful. Two boys and a girl about your lad’s age.’ They entered a small, low-roofed room that smelled of smoke and lavender. Rose pondered the identity of the little girl: she knew Ivy’s children, and they were both boys.

  Linden followed wordlessly as they passed under a threshold and into a cramped sitting room. The furniture had been moved to the edges of the room, and a series of mattresses laid out on the floor. Here, among the blankets, played Eadric and Edmund – she would have recognised them anywhere; they both looked so much like Ivy – and a fair-haired girl with a hesitant laugh and one eye on the door. She saw Rose and her body tensed.

  Rose tried to smile, pushing Linden ahead of her. ‘Hello,’ she said to the girl. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Who are you?’ said Eadric, the older of the boys, with a suspicious raise of his eyebrow.

  ‘I’m your Aunt Rose,’ she said. ‘This is your cousin Linden.’

  Linden hung back, clinging to her hand, but Nettie grasped his shoulder and pushed him forward. ‘Come, kiss your cousins,’ she said.

  Linden allowed himself to be embraced and kissed by the boys, then the girl approached him and said softly, ‘I am Goldie. I am your cousin too.’

  Rose was still perplexed, but did not want to reveal a complicated family situation in front of Nettie.

  ‘Will you play with us?’ Edmund asked. ‘We are assembling an army of birds.’

  Linden looked down at their collection of smooth round rocks, and seemed not to mind that they looked nothing like an army of birds. He sat, and played.

  ‘You may leave them with me if you wish,’ Nettie said. ‘The very next door along will take you to the hall where they have set up a war room.’

  ‘Is Bluebell there?’

  Nettie shook her head. ‘Captain Sighere will explain. He asked me to send you over as soon as you ar
rived.’

  Rose’s eyes went to Linden. ‘If King Wengest comes, don’t let him take my boy. Come and find me if he tries,’ she said quietly.

  Nettie looked taken aback and blinked rapidly. Then she took in Linden’s face and seemed to understand. ‘I won’t let anyone in but you or Ivy,’ she promised.

  Rose crouched next to Linden to kiss his cheek. He didn’t look up from the game.

  She was ushered into the war room moments later, and greeted by Sighere, Bluebell’s longest serving and most trusted thane. She had not seen him for four years, and it seemed a weight had settled on his broad shoulders. His beard was streaked with white.

  ‘Where is Bluebell?’ Rose said. ‘What is happening?’

  Sighere explained about Bluebell’s plans to persuade giants to join the army, about how the longer they delayed, the worse the outcomes for the people remaining in Blicstowe.

  ‘I want to ask you, as her closest sister in age,’ Sighere said, ‘what would you do next, for I am torn apart with indecision.’

  ‘She will come back, won’t she?’

  ‘It is my most fervent wish,’ Sighere said. ‘For my country and for myself, for she has Ash with her, and she and I had intended to marry.’

  Rose smiled. ‘Well, there’s a bright spot in all this horror. Ash married? I cannot even imagine it.’

  This was entirely the wrong thing to say, because Sighere closed his eyes with a barely audible groan. ‘As the days pass, I can imagine it less and less.’

  Rose sat at the large desk. Maps were spread from one side to another and candles burned almost to their holders lit the scene. Occasionally a gust of wind crept through the cracks under the shutters and sent the flames guttering. ‘Let us imagine we are Bluebell,’ she said. ‘What would she want us to do?’