Back From Chaos

by Yvonne Hertzberger

  ~81~

  LOTHA

  “Do you wish someone present when I examine you, my dear?” the midwife asked when she emerged from Marja’s chamber.

  “Oh, no! Please, I cannot let anyone see!” Brensa hurriedly showed the midwife into her own chamber.

  Brensa’s distress was even more acute than Marja had prepared Lotha for. The midwife understood immediately that Brensa had suffered some severe trauma. It was written clearly in her hunched posture and in the way her eyes darted about the room, afraid to meet hers, filled with both fear and shame. She had seen such in her work before and had no trouble recognizing the signs. Poor girl, she thought as she closed the door behind Brensa.

  “My child, you need not fear. I think I know somewhat of what you have endured. Men can be brutes.”

  Brensa’s eyes widened even further in shock. Had someone told her? “Do you have the seer’s gift?”

  Lotha shook her head. “But I am right, am I not? You have been ill-used?” At Brensa’s tight affirmation, she nodded briskly. “I have seen such before. What you tell me or show me will not surprise me. But before we begin, perhaps you will permit me to brew you a calming tea, and you may tell me why you have chosen to see me at this time. Do you suspect you are with child?”

  “No, no! Not that! But …”

  Lotha put water on the brazier to boil and began to rummage in the basket she carried with her everywhere for the right herbs for tea. She avoided looking at Brensa, hoping the girl would find the courage to go on. She made a show of looking for something and muttering to herself to give Brensa time.

  Brensa stammered on. “Something happened in the spring and now …”

  “Ah, here it is,” Lotha announced. As she straightened up she gave Brensa a delighted smile, as though this were the most ordinary conversation in the world. As Lotha hoped it would, the kindness in her smile reached Brensa, so that she relaxed slightly. Lotha turned to her tea again. As she filled the pot with herbs, she went on. “So you were ill-used in the spring. I would very much like to hear just what happened. It will help me understand what it is I need to look for.”

  Brensa stammered out her story, snatches at a time between shamed silences, while Lotha bustled about and inserted the occasional “tsk,” and “terrible,” with an attitude that suggested she understood but was not too surprised or disturbed by any of it. All in a days work, so to speak. Nothing new here. Not really so serious and shameful as all that. None of this was spoken, but Brensa heard the message just the same and gradually calmed.

  Lotha handed Brensa a mug of tea and poured one for herself. She sat down next to her on the bed, patted her hand and said, “Now, my child, what is it you wish from me today?”

  The practiced, motherly gesture disarmed Brensa, as it was intended to do. She hung her head, tears spilling into her lap, as she whispered, “I need to know if I can … you know … without pain … and bear children?” She ventured a sideways glance to see Lotha’s reaction.

  Lotha merely nodded at the floor. She knew from long practice that Brensa would reveal more if she did not make eye contact. “I see. Tell me, are your moon times normal like before?”

  Out of the corner of her eye Lotha saw Brensa give a timid nod.

  “Yes.” The whisper could barely be heard.

  “Good. That is a good sign.”

  Lotha turned to look at Brensa’s face as she went on. “I will need to look at you under your gown. Will you permit me to do that? I will be gentle and do no more than necessary. And there is nothing you can show me that I have not seen before.”

  Fear returned to Brensa’s eyes, but also determination. She met Lotha’s gaze, gave an affirmative jerk, and looked quickly away again. Lotha could see the effort it took the girl not to back down.

  Lotha patted her hand again. “That is very brave of you.” Taking the now empty mug from Brensa’s rigid hand she set it alongside her own on the small table by the bed. “Now, Brensa, will you lie down for me?”

  Brensa obeyed stiffly, legs pressed tightly together, ankles crossed. Lotha took no apparent notice. Still muttering small soothing murmurs, she simply untied Brensa’s sandals, slipped them off gently, one by one, and set them under the bed. “There, that is better.”

  She looked up briefly at Brensa’s face. “Such dainty feet, my dear,” and went back to her work. Massaging them lightly, she added, “The stockings will need to come down, too. I wish to see if there are scars on your legs as well.”

  She moved Brensa’s skirts halfway up her thighs. Receiving no protest, she tugged slowly at Brensa’s linen summer stockings until they sat around her ankles. All the while, she continued her soft patter. Brensa’s legs no longer pressed convulsively together. Lotha suppressed a grim shake of her head. What had happened to this one had been terrible indeed. With deft hands, she continued to stroke Brensa’s feet and ankles, gradually working up to the calves.

  When Brensa showed signs of relaxing further, Lotha stopped to watch her face, leaving one hand resting on Brensa’s leg. “Are you ready to let me see, child?” Brensa hesitated a moment, then nodded, eyes widening again in fear.

  “And will you let me touch you and check deep inside?”

  Brensa nodded again, this time turning her head away, shutting her eyes tight. She lay with fists balled tightly at her sides, unbidden tears once again sliding onto her pillow.

  “You are very brave, Brensa. I can see what this costs you. You must have a very good reason for asking this.”

  Brensa did not turn back but nodded mutely. When Lotha raised Brensa’s skirts to her waist, she instructed her gently to spread her knees and raise them slightly, so she could examine her. Brensa complied without turning her face back or unclenching her fists. Before inserting her fingers to check inside, Lotha applied a soothing balm. Even so, Brensa tensed with discomfort.

  Lotha shook her head sadly as she noted this. If the girl wished to bear a child it would take a special man indeed to make it happen. Such men were more rare than queen bees.

  At last, she removed her fingers, pulled Brensa’s skirt back down and helped her sit up. Lotha remained silent a long time.

  Knowing Brensa watched her closely, though Lotha’s back was turned, she poured more tea and laced it liberally with honey. What could she say to this girl? In truth, she thought it unlikely that Brensa could ever permit a man to enter her. Yet the girl seemed so desperate for hope.

  Finally she turned back to Brensa and handed her the second mug of tea. “Brensa, I can tell you there is no reason your body should be unable to couple with a man or to have a child. But …”

  Lotha watched hope rise in Brensa’s face. Now it fell again in dismay. Lotha sighed deeply as she sought the right words.

  Shaking her head again she went on. “Brensa, it is not your body that will bring pain when you wish to lie with a man, but your mind. Your body is not seriously damaged. The scars you bear are no worse than many women carry after childbirth. These will not prevent you.”

  Lotha paused, still searching for the right words. “But what you have experienced in the cave has made you so fearful that you may not be able to allow any man to enter your womb. Your body may close up, and the pain you would feel if he tried to insist would be too great.”

  Lotha shook her head again, looking at her hands. “My child, the one who wishes to lie with you will need your complete trust first. And have more patience than I have ever seen in a man. I do not know if such a man exists.” She finally lifted her eyes to meet Brensa’s and saw, to her surprise, a glimmer of hope there. She had expected despair and fear. Understanding dawned. “You think you know such a man.”

  Brensa nodded timorously. Her tears had stopped and only their dried tracks remained upon her puffed cheeks. “It is Klast, the man who rescued me.”

  “Ah, I see.” She thought for a moment. “Yes, he might be the only one you would trust. I do not know this man, Brensa. But even the kindest and
most trustworthy may not have the patience and understanding this would take. In order for a man to enter you without pain, you must feel no fear. It is much to ask of any man to wait as long as you may need.”

  Lotha watched the flicker of hope die in Brensa’s eyes and wished she had chosen an easier way to earn a living. This poor girl had seen so much pain, and now she had to deliver more. She sighed again, more deeply than before, and looked at Brensa once more. “My child, I must tend to my other duties. Do you have any more questions before I go?”

  “I trust Klast,” Brensa ventured, as though to convince herself. “You think it impossible for me to … to master my fear?”

  Not wishing to hurt the girl further, Lotha gave a noncommittal shrug. “I know not, child. You are brave. I certainly see that. Perhaps, if your man is very patient …” She let the sentence trail off.

  Brensa nodded dejectedly, and with sagging shoulders, went to the door to open it. Lotha took her basket and at the door turned to Brensa a last time. “Earth may hold hope for you. I wish it may be so.”

  ~82~

  A DECISION

  Messalia watched the now silent prisoner being marched past her house between the two uniformed guards and made the decision to turn what she suspected into an opportunity to further her influence. If she guessed correctly, it could prove profitable. If she had it wrong, she still would not lose.

  A short while later her serving man hastened in the direction of the castle with a message for Lord Gaelen. Would he grant Messalia an audience? She had information of a delicate nature that could affect the security of Bargia.

  Once certain her man had gone, Messalia dressed in her most serious gown, put on understated jewellery and set her best cloak to hand by the door. Then, confident that Gaelen would see her as soon as possible, she had her housekeeper bring tea. She went through her correspondence once more to make sure she had not left anything incriminating unburned. She was always scrupulously careful, but this situation was so crucial, she could afford no chances that she had missed something.

  While she made ready she hummed to herself, a victory tune usually sung at banquets after battle. She liked its lively melody. And, though this was not a battle in the usual sense, it subtly spoke to her feeling of power and that she could expect another coup. Intrigue and danger always energized her. Others’ secrets invariably afforded her an advantage.

  ~83~

  TRAITOR!

  It did not take long to find Sinnath. As Klast had surmised, he had gone back to check on the progress of the warehouse. Rebuilding had started almost immediately after the cleanup from the fire, and little remained to remind anyone that it had burned. All the debris had been cleared, and the stone that could be reused sat in a heap to one side. Half of it already marked three walls of the perimeter, in preparation for the wooden framework of the walls and beams for the roof. The rest would soon complete the foundation.

  Sinnath stood to one side speaking with a craftsman who gesticulated angrily as he pointed at the workers. It appeared all was not proceeding as well as Sinnath expected. He looked angry as well, though he showed better control.

  Klast remained in the shadow of another building, where he could observe unseen, as he determined how to arrest Sinnath. He wondered if a ruse would induce Sinnath to accompany him to the castle without arousing his suspicions. It would be best if it appeared that they merely walked together to a meeting of the council. But if Sinnath became suspicious, Klast had no one to assist him, and things could become difficult. Sinnath might have his own men nearby, though Klast had seen nothing that suggested such. Klast knew he could take the man by himself, but if Sinnath called out for help, there were many who still honoured him as an elder council member and might come to his rescue. Klast, on the other hand, had no such reputation. So much of his energy had been spent on maintaining anonymity that to the people he looked like just another citizen.

  Klast watched Sinnath scan the area carefully again and relax. Apparently he still had confidence in his immunity. The plant of the burned body had worked. Sinnath had mentioned the fire, and the discovery of the body, to the other council members as though it had been caused by a gang of careless thieves.

  Klast decided to tail him until he could find backup before he tried his ruse. If the guards stayed out of sight, it might still work. He watched Sinnath finish with the overseer and stride briskly off in the direction of the castle. Perhaps Earth would side with Klast this time. He almost snorted derisively at the idea. When had Earth ever given him good luck? He made his own destiny. Luck could never be counted on.

  Klast spotted two guards on patrol, just as Sinnath turned into a side street and entered a shop that sold building tools. Keeping one eye on the door to make sure Sinnath did not reappear, he beckoned the two and called them to the corner out of sight of the shop. One of them recognized him, so he had no trouble establishing his authority.

  “You,” he ordered the first, “go to the barracks and bring back six soldiers to assist me. Make sure they are well armed and well trained. Not raw recruits. I need skilled men.” He turned to the second. “You stay behind the corner and watch for my signal. If I leave, follow me. Keep an eye open for the others. Make certain all of you remain hidden.”

  The first nodded briskly and ran to obey. The other positioned himself behind Klast and prepared to wait, standing alert and ready. Klast knew the men probably welcomed the break in routine.

  He hoped that the new guards would spot them and get out of sight before Sinnath exited the shop. If he had to follow Sinnath, the others might be unable to find them quickly enough. Or worse yet, Sinnath could catch sight of them, suspect something and go on the offensive.

  It occurred to Klast that his ruse might work better if he sent the young guard to invite Sinnath to the meeting. Sinnath knew that Klast was Gaelen’s man and no errand boy. Gaelen would not send him with an invitation to a council meeting. He would send a lesser guard to fetch him. So when Sinnath emerged from the shop and Klast’s backup had not arrived, he made the risky decision to send the guard with the invitation instead of going himself. Then, if something went amiss, Klast could fall in to assist.

  Sinnath strode confidently into a side street in the direction of an inn where he frequently took his midday meal. Klast hid behind a low wall to one side of the next building and motioned the guard to approach Sinnath. He nodded and moved forward.

  Klast could tell by the studied familiarity in his manner that Sinnath sensed something was amiss. Sinnath looked casually about him as the guard spoke, as if making sure no one was around, as if planning something.

  Klast cursed his luck. He watched Sinnath answer affably while the young guard fidgeted with his tunic. With each step and each attempt at easy conversation the guard’s nervousness became more apparent. They turned a corner into an empty, seldom used alley that provided a shortcut. Before Klast could react, he saw Sinnath ease slightly behind the guard, swiftly draw his dagger, and slit the man’s throat.

  Klast was upon Sinnath before the guard reached the ground.

  Sinnath shouted, “Guards! To me!” With a dead body as evidence he no longer needed stealth or subterfuge. He threw his dagger down and drew his sword all in one fluid motion. Though no longer young, Sinnath was still lean and fit. He had not lost his fighting skills.

  “Give up, traitor!” Klast hoped the direct accusation would put Sinnath off balance just enough that he could take the advantage.

  Sinnath was too experienced to fall for the gambit. “Guards!’ he yelled again, “take this assassin!” To Klast he said in a feral undertone, “You will not kill me. You need me alive.”

  Klast was the better fighter. But he knew Sinnath was right. Gaelen needed a trial, not a dead body.

  Sinnath had no such compunctions. He fought to kill.

  Klast fought defensively, making sure he did not injure Sinnath. This put Klast at a disadvantage. He just avoided a touching blow to Sinna
th’s shoulder. The awkward feint allowed Sinnath to slice a nasty cut into Klast’s sword arm.

  The touch spurred Sinnath to attack with greater vigour. “You are a dead man, Klast.”

  Klast was forced to match him, thrust for thrust. He was losing blood from the cut and tiring. If backup did not arrive soon, Sinnath would have the upper hand.

  Klast heard running footsteps. Thinking these were from the soldiers he had sent for gave him a surge of renewed energy. The sense of relief shattered immediately when two guards appeared, swords drawn. They took one look at the situation and recognised Sinnath.

  Sinnath sent a triumphant grin in Klast’s direction as he shouted, “Kill this assassin,” and fell back to make room for the two fresh fighters.

  Klast’s heart sank. He did not know how long he could hold out. He needed those soldiers! Now!

  He caught a glimpse of Sinnath wiping his sword, leaning against the wall, a look of cold satisfaction on his face. As Klast parried another thrust, he saw Sinnath disappear around the corner. I have lost him, he thought. His fight became desperate now, to save himself. He would be no use to Gaelen dead. Gaelen needed him. He was the only one who could back up the evidence against Sinnath.

  Just as he thought he could find no more strength to swing his sword, his backup arrived. They soon made it plain to the first two who Klast was and why they had been sent for. But by then, Sinnath was nowhere in sight.

  “Find him,” panted Klast. He tore the sleeve off his tunic and tied it around the cut on his arm to staunch the bleeding. He had no time to give it further attention. “You two, follow him down that alley. If you find him, keep him in sight but do not try to take him. He must be arrested unharmed.”

  Klast looked at a third man. “You, find Grenth and alert him. Tell him Sinnath must be found and arrested. He will know what to do.” Klast thought furiously as he looked at the five remaining. “You, find Lord Gaelen. Here, take this ring. He will know what it means.” His thoughts were for Lady Marja. The ring signified grave danger. He hoped Gaelen would understand and increase the guard on her. Who knew what Sinnath would do now that he had been discovered? He held onto the ring for a moment to allow himself time to think, then added, “Tell Lord Gaelen that we will meet at the Cock and Pheasant as soon as I am able.”