Back From Chaos

by Yvonne Hertzberger

  With no leads to follow, he made up his mind to seek out Argost next. After that, he would hire a room in the seedier part of city, where he could be more likely to find some leads. He put thoughts of Brensa and the tug he still felt firmly out of his mind and concentrated on the work ahead. The sooner he finished, the sooner he could return and report back to Gaelen. Only then would he allow himself to ponder this urgency regarding Brensa.

  As he neared the central square, Klast spied Mikost and asked him if he knew where Argost might be found.

  When Mikost recognized Klast, he asked, “Sir, how fare Lady Marja and Brensa?”

  “They were well when I last saw them. How fares Nellis?”

  “We have a strong son.” Mikost beamed with pride. Then he sobered. “But Nellis misses Lady Marja fiercely. Even the birth of our son is not enough. She is most unhappy. She wishes to go to Bargia, the three of us.” Mikost suggested to Klast that his skills might be put to good use in Bargia, perhaps even more effectively than in Catania. Could they possibly travel back to Bargia with Klast, so Nellis could rejoin the service of her lady?

  Klast advised him that it was not safe to travel to Bargia at this time, but agreed to mention to Argost that Mikost might be needed there before winter made travel impossible.

  Klast liked Mikost and knew that Marja would welcome Nellis. Brensa, too, might be cheered by the presence of her friend. Argost might agree to let Mikost go in the fall. Thinking of Brensa reminded him of the pull he still felt. He pushed the thought aside and brought his focus back to his mission.

  He located Argost in the main square, conferring with two men. By the costly fabric and detailed embroidery on their tunics, they appeared to be persons of influence. He faded back into the shadows until Argost had finished, then followed him into the castle. Three men and two women waited in line outside the door to the audience chamber to meet with him. It looked like the usual mix, each person with some complaint that required advice, mediation or a decision of law. People came here for an audience when all other avenues had failed. Argost’s decisions were binding.

  Again Klast waited, taking his place at the end of the line as though one of this afternoon’s regular petitioners. As he stood, looking unimportant and bored, he studied those in line and the two guards by the door. Other than one woman anxiously relating her tale about the apparent theft of her breeding ewe, nothing seemed worth anyone’s attention. The line moved in an orderly fashion, and the people exited the chamber with apparent satisfaction. Even the woman with the missing ewe huffed importantly as she left.

  Klast stepped inside the doorway and watched as Argost checked the notations of the scribe.

  When Argost’s raised his head his eyes lit up in recognition. He turned quickly to the scribe. “Your services will not be required until tomorrow. Thank you.”

  The scribe looked puzzled for a moment, realizing the room still held a newcomer. When it became apparent the audience was over, he shrugged, picked up his sheets, ink and quill and departed.

  Klast barred the door behind him and made sure there were no places for eavesdroppers to hide.

  The precaution made Argost chuckle. “I chose this room carefully, my friend. You will find no extra eyes and ears here. Come, speak with me. Tell me the news of Bargia.” As he spoke he stood and indicated the chair the scribe had vacated.

  Before Klast had a chance to sit, he found his hand and forearm in a warm clasp of welcome.

  As Klast took the proffered seat, Argost reached for a goblet from the tray on his desk and filled it with rich, red wine which he handed to Klast, a wide smile creasing his face. “It is good to see you.” Then he sobered somewhat. “But if you are here, it must mean that either Lord Gaelen thinks he can spare you or he has urgent business only you can handle.” He watched Klast expectantly as he waited for him to swallow a large gulp of wine.

  Klast managed a tight smile in return, the expression unfamiliar to his face. Yet Argost’s pleasure in seeing him was so genuine he could not help himself. He sensed once more that this man, at least, could be trusted. He had been impressed, too, with the order and sense of quiet normalcy in Catania. This had, no doubt, come about by Argost’s diligent work and sound decisions. Gaelen had left Catania in able hands. Klast set down his goblet, forming his thoughts as he did so.

  “It is good to see you again, too, Argost … and to see Catania so obviously recovering and peaceful. Lord Gaelen will be pleased.” Then he resumed his serious mien. “You are correct in both your assumptions, Argost. I have urgent news from Gaelen that he did not wish to entrust to another, and he was willing to have me away for a short while. The reasons are dire.”

  Argost raised his eyebrows in question but said nothing.

  “Bargia is under quarantine,” Klast began. “Since I have not acquired the disease that plagues Bargia I am confident that I do not carry it into Catania. Otherwise nothing could be so urgent as to bring me among the citizens here. Lord Gaelen wishes you to know how to deal with the disease before it strikes, as it most certainly will. He fears closing the gates in Bargia occurs too late to prevent its spread.” Klast went on to share the instructions Liethis had given.

  By the time he finished, Argost had gone grey with concern. Together they decided on a plan of action involving food, shelter and containment. Argost’s greater worry centred on the question of power in Catania, should his men be decimated by the disease. He himself was already past his prime and needed a plan that would cover the eventuality of his own death, should he succumb. Catania remained stable now, but that would not last if his carefully implemented recovery and governance fell apart due to a lack of trustworthy people or to panic among its citizens. He did not doubt that others existed who waited eagerly to take control.

  Their conference lasted until well past dark, neither man giving any thought to hunger. Argost informed Klast he had received intelligence that Lieth, the demesne to the west, had spies in Catania. One had been caught and interrogated. Before his execution, the man had revealed that Lord Wernost of Lieth had an informant in the house of a former aristocrat from Lord Cataniast’s court, a certain Wilnor.

  “Wilnor owns a large estate well outside the city,” Argost explained. “However, without proof of treason, I have decided to wait and keep my ears open. Unless I receive more evidence of treasonous plans or activities, the improving stability and peaceful recovery in Catania should make it difficult for Wilnor to muster the support he needs.”

  Klast agreed. Argost had heard nothing from Gharn or Handosh, but hoped no news meant just that.

  Klast heard that recovery in Catania was proceeding even better than Argost had hoped. Most buildings had been repaired at least to the point where they were functional again. Most businesses had reopened, and those people who had lost jobs had found new positions. There appeared to be very little resentment against the presence of the soldiers from Bargia. As long as people could safely carry on with their lives and could look after their families, they cared not who ruled them. The harvest looked promising as well, a great source of relief to both Argost and the people.

  Before leaving, Klast mentioned Mikost’s request.

  Argost confirmed that Mikost had proven an apt informant and had learned valuable skills as a diplomat. He felt reluctant to part with him, but he understood that Nellis suffered from loneliness and missed Marja and Brensa.

  “Marja has only Brensa to trust. She would benefit from having another friend.” Klast filled Argost in briefly on Brensa’s ordeal in the cave.

  Argost agreed that Gaelen could make good use of the skills Mikost had acquired. “I will consider sending Mikost to Bargia before winter. But only if I can find a party large enough to make attack from bandits unlikely.”

  Klast’s further probing provided nothing more than Argost had already told him. Things seemed almost too quiet. Klast knew that would change soon, but he had done all he could to prepare Argost for the crisis the plague woul
d bring.

  The need to return to Bargia felt more urgent as each day passed. When he could find nothing worth his attention, his thoughts kept turning back to Brensa and the vague sense that she needed him. Two days short of the time he had planned to stay, he met with Argost a last time to receive any new messages, collected his horse and headed back to Bargia by the same way he had arrived, again travelling mostly at night.

  ~56~

  RED FEVER

  Marja took to pacing through the castle several times daily, a worried frown written on her face. Brensa attributed this to anxiety resulting from the attack at Summer Festival. She hurried dutifully after Marja, occasionally suggesting that she rest due to her condition. When the first reports of illness began to drift in, the frequency of Marja’s tours increased, along with the depth of the frown lines between her brows. Brensa got her exercise, as did the guards ordered to protect Marja, just trying to keep up. When Brensa questioned her lady, Marja gave distracted, evasive answers or ineffectual murmurs of reassurance. Brensa could get no more out of her. Eventually she gave up and followed her silently about. She even held back her admonishments to Marja about tiring herself.

  By this time rumours ran amok about Marja’s unconfirmed pregnancy. Many sent knowing looks in the direction of the party as they made their rounds. Some were bold enough to try to corner Brensa and question her, actions the guards quickly intercepted. This was the one situation in which the constant presence of the guards gave Brensa a sense of safety. Normally, having men around still made her uneasy. But now, they prevented her from being constantly accosted by even more frightening individuals and saved her from needing to dissemble about Marja’s condition.

  Keeping the pregnancy secret soon became moot. Old mothers noted the glow of health in Marja’s cheeks and nodded sagely. Others swore they detected a swelling in her belly. Still others claimed they had the gift of seeing and could sense the child growing within her. Nevertheless, Marja and Gaelen kept a stoic silence, refusing to confirm or deny anything. Brensa could do no less.

  When people began to fall ill in greater numbers, Brensa finally understood the true reason for her lady’s anxiety. She pleaded with her one last time. “My lady, you must not become ill. Think of the child you carry. Please do not put yourself in danger.”

  Marja remained adamant and ordered Brensa to say no more about it. She confided the second reason for keeping her condition secret. “If others became aware they will behave just like you. They will press me to curtail my work and try to convince me to pamper myself. I have no intentions of doing anything of the kind”

  “But, my lady, I—”

  “No, Brensa. I must work as I can alongside my people. I must show them that I care for them. I am needed.” Marja told her firmly that nothing would stop her from ministering to “her people” as the need arose. Stubbornness can be a strength as well as a weakness, and Brensa knew that Marja could be nothing if not stubborn.

  “Besides, I have Liethis’ assurance that both myself and my son will be well, so I see no reason to hold back from my duty.” The set of Marja’s mouth convinced Brensa that she had best keep her silence on the subject and help as she could.

  Two eightdays after Summer Festival, just days after the first reports of illness, Brensa had gone to fetch some dried raspberry leaves from the kitchen to make a strengthening tea for Marja. On her way back, a washer woman, arms laden with clean linen, blocked her way in the narrow hall. Brensa could feel the woman’s hot breath when she coughed in her face.

  “Yer lady’ll have folk wonderin’ if’n Lord Gaelen be cuckolded, bein’ it comes so soon, eh? Did ye see ’er lover, back afore, eh?” Then she winked conspiratorially.

  Before the woman could say anything more, the guard outside Marja’s door had her by the arms and hustled her away.

  Marja noticed Brensa’s ghostly face and trembling hands. “Brensa, what is amiss?”

  When Brensa told her what had happened, Marja had the guard trace the woman and permanently bar her from the castle.

  The first to show signs of illness—sore throat, fever, chills, sore eyes and red rash—were the workers who lived outside the castle and came in daily to fulfil their duties. By the time the first servants and guards started falling ill, rumours of an impending birth were forgotten. A new fear, coming on the heels of the first deaths, eclipsed such gossip.

  Mere days after the first outside workers fell ill, reports of cases inside the castle reached Marja. Within an eightday more, it became difficult to find enough people to complete the day-to-day tasks of running the household and looking after those who had contracted the fever. Brensa worked tirelessly beside Marja and kept a worried eye on her. Each day her anxiety increased as she heard the reports Gaelen brought Marja.

  The illness raged in the barracks as well. Two of Marja’s regular guards fell ill, one dying within days. On learning this, Marja insisted that Gaelen reduce her guard from four to one. Gaelen protested, but was finally convinced by the reminder that Liethis had seen their son born and Marja safe. Brensa had to be content with that as well.

  In the end, Gaelen had little choice. Soon, he had to call even the last guard to more pressing duties. All able-bodied adults became involved in caring for the ill, the dying and the children left behind. Others were needed to tend the pyres where the dead burned. The stench of burning bodies permeated the streets. Adults who survived were called back into service as soon as they were able. Food became rationed, cooked mostly in temporary, communal kitchens.

  Brensa and Marja made themselves useful in the castle kitchen. Brensa watched the growing respect Marja garnered as she put the skills Cook had taught her to good use. Marja knew what needed to be done and worked tirelessly alongside the others without getting in the way. Nor did she look for preferential treatment. She ate what everyone ate and let herself be directed by the head cook, just like the others. Soon they stopped remarking on it and accepted her as one of the team. Brensa felt proud of her lady, and it spurred her to greater efforts as some of that respect fell on her own shoulders.

  But Brensa watched helplessly as Marja grew thin and exhausted. No amount of entreaty would convince Marja that she needed to rest and eat more food for the sake of the babe. Her terse response was always the same. Her people needed her. She and the babe would be fine. At night the two women fell into a leaden sleep for only four or five spans. Marja had given standing orders that they must be wakened at dawn to resume working.

  Brensa had immediately sensed when Klast left the city. His absence left her with an added sense of apprehension, and not only because it left Gaelen, Marja and Bargia more vulnerable. Brensa had grown less fearful over time, due in part because she knew that Klast watched out for her. With him gone, the castle seemed more dangerous. His presence always made her feel safer. Now she needed to find courage within her own self. She wondered bleakly if she would ever be able to stop looking over her shoulder.

  They saw little of Gaelen during the crisis. His duty lay in keeping relief efforts, funeral pyres and law and order running as smoothly as possible. Brensa’s pride grew as the news of his success filtered back to them. The people spotted Gaelen everywhere, it seemed, his clothing dusty, obviously exhausted like everyone else. Here was no pretty lordling, they said, hiding within the protection of the castle. Their new lord risked his health and his safety by working openly with the others. The people noticed and they talked.

  “A good man.”

  “Strong leader, like his sire.”

  “Not afraid to get his hands dirty.”

  But the pyres grew higher and more citizens fell ill. With no relief in sight, Brensa wondered how long they could manage.

  ~57~

  BRENSA SUCCUMBS

  A fortnight into the quarantine, Brensa developed a sore throat, and her eyes felt achy. She said nothing to Marja but continued to work beside her. By the next morning, she could no longer hide her symptoms.

 
; “Brensa, you are ill. Why did you not tell me you were unwell? You know how this disease kills. Brensa, I need you. Go to bed at once.” She could not hide the panic in her voice. Not Brensa! Oh please, Earth, not Brensa!

  Marja ordered her to bed with the window slit covered up. By evening, the telltale spots covered her small frame, and her fever had risen. Her little cat would not leave her side but curled up under Brensa’s chin as she shivered under her blankets.

  Marja made the difficult choice to stay by her friend’s side, despite Brensa’s urgings that others needed her more.

  “No Brensa. I almost lost you once. I will not leave you.”

  She entrusted her care to no one else. While Brensa was awake, Marja held back the tears and panic she felt. They only emerged when Brensa slept. Marja resisted the impulse to send word to Gaelen. There was nothing he could do, and he did not need the added worry. She hovered by the bed, pacing or in a chair, afraid to sleep lest Brensa need something. Her isolation and inability to do more left her feeling completely alone and helpless.

  When Brensa’s fever hit its peak and delirium set in, the name that fell from her lips was not Marja’s or her mother’s. The name she cried out with increasing desperation was Klast’s. Yet, Marja could not even offer her that small comfort. Klast was away, and she had no idea when he might return. It made Marja feel even more impotent. She sensed intuitively that Klast might be the only one who could make Brensa fight to survive, and that his voice might be the only one that could ease her suffering even if she did not survive. Marja wrung her hands and paced the floor. Her friend’s cries pierced her heart.

  Marja finally understood just how deep Brensa’s feelings for Klast ran, just how much she trusted him. That realization brought a fleeting pang of jealousy. She dismissed it immediately. She swore that if she ever had the chance to bring the two together again she would do whatever she could. Brensa had never recovered from her earlier ordeal and still followed Marja about with wide, frightened, rabbit eyes and still jumped at shadows. If Klast could make Brensa feel safe, she deserved that … if she only lived long enough.