Back From Chaos

by Yvonne Hertzberger

  The other letter was from an old, wealthy merchant by the name of Biernal, who had left Bargia for his summer dwelling shortly after Gaelen brought Marja home. He and Sinnath had known each other many years and were of the same bent. He, too, agreed to gather a small army to attack Gaelen. When he and Klast had decoded his message, Gaelen sent a cadre of soldiers to arrest him and bring him to trial. Biernal had not expected this. Ill prepared, he had been found unprotected, abed with pain in his joints. He now rested on a cold, stone bench in a cell in the dungeon, where his joints, no doubt, pained him more.

  Gaelen called a meeting with his council for the private trial the next morning. A guard had been sent to fetch the Haslin’s son. Gaelen had convinced Klast that bringing the lad to the hearing with the council was necessary. The evidence, the boy, and the prisoner, Ornan, would all be assembled in the council chamber before they brought Sinnath in. He would then be confronted with the totality of his guilt without the opportunity to pick at each piece separately.

  When all council members had viewed the letters, been presented with the prisoner’s information and heard the boy’s story, Gaelen had Klast bring Sinnath in. To avoid speculation by anyone else, he had instructed Klast to bring him through the secret passages that led to the hall beside the council chamber. Guards posted at each end prevented anyone from observing their arrival.

  Sinnath looked a sorry sight, unshaven, his usually immaculate clothing dirty and dishevelled. It made it hard for him to carry off the air of confidence and power he typically bore. Yet, in spite of his appearance, he still managed to stand straight, head held high, and to maintain his dignity. That changed when he scanned the room. He took in the table where the letters and ring lay, the prisoner tied to the chair and the frightened young lad sitting on another. His eyes met the grim faces of the council members, and lastly, of Gaelen, standing inscrutable at the head of the table. Gaelen had chosen to wear full formal dress. His torque of power sat around his neck.

  Gaelen saw Sinnath’s face fall slightly when he noticed that no chair had been reserved for him.

  Klast marched Sinnath slowly along the table, so he would get a clear view of what it held. Then he made him stand at the opposite end from Gaelen, who had by now sat down, flanked by the prisoner and the boy. Klast returned to the door, both to observe and to be ready for action in the event this was needed. He left Sinnath’s wrists tied.

  In the heavy silence that ensued, Gaelen allowed Sinnath a few moments to take stock. He watched, as Sinnath looked at each member, trying to gauge their reactions. Grenth met his eyes evenly with an implacable look. Janest avoided his attempt to meet his eyes by taking a sudden interest in his hands. Then Sinnath started slightly. In the shadows in the darkest corner of the room stood Liethis. Gaelen had sent for her, though once again she had anticipated his need, and her escort had met her just outside the gates of the city.

  The slight sag of the shoulders and the flicker in the eyes told Gaelen that Sinnath recognized his defeat. Sinnath had seen many years as the consummate diplomat and had learned to keep his feelings well hidden, even under pressure, but his reaction was unmistakeable.

  Finally, Gaelen cleared his throat and began. “Sinnath, you have been brought here today to face the charge of treason. You see that the evidence before you leaves no doubt as to your guilt. What have you to say?”

  Trained to think on his feet, Sinnath straightened and met Gaelen’s eyes without flinching. “As you say, my lord, the evidence cannot be denied. To say that I regret the path I have taken, though true, will convince no one. Nor will saying so mitigate the sentence I must face. My lord, I have only one request. I wish a short, private audience with you, before you pronounce sentence.”

  He did not break from Gaelen’s gaze. Gaelen read only regret and concern there.

  Gaelen thought for a moment. He looked at Klast, who gave him a short nod. With a bleak smile, Gaelen said, “Sinnath, do not think for a moment that I would leave myself open to attack by meeting with you unprotected. Yet, in view of your loyalty to my father, I will hear what you wish to tell me. But only with Klast present.” He regarded Sinnath for a moment, then added, “and Liethis will know if you speak true, whether she is in the room or not.”

  “Thank you, my lord. That is acceptable.” Sinnath inclined his head and shoulders in a small bow.

  Gaelen nodded to Klast, who once more took Sinnath by the arms and guided him to a narrow door behind a tapestry. Gaelen opened it, and the three passed into a small, dark cell containing a dusty table and two old chairs, dry and cracked from long disuse. Gaelen lit the tallow candle that stood on the table and sat down, motioning Sinnath to do the same. Klast stood by Gaelen’s side, ready to defend him, and to observe.

  “Very well, I am listening. Speak.”

  Sinnath let his shoulders droop, all pride gone from his demeanour. “My lord. I will not defend myself. My guilt is plain, my life forfeit. This all began at a time when I believed you unwise and too young to rule. Your choice of lady, from the house of the enemy, went against traditional strategies for gaining dominance over a conquered people. Now these past moons have shown me that I have erred. If I could take back the decision I made, I would do so gladly. Alas, it is too late. Such a path, once taken, cannot readily be reversed.”

  Sinnath stopped and sighed heavily. “My lord, I have only one concern for the future. I know I face execution. That will not change. But I have a son by my mistress. She died of the plague. He is my only child, only seven years old, and innocent of any wrongdoing. My wife will have nothing to do with him. In any case, she will, if tradition holds, be exiled or possibly executed.”

  His face filled with sorrow. “My lord, I beg you, as a boon for my years of service to your father, I beg you not to condemn my son for my crime. He is a fine boy. Please foster him with a good family. He knows nothing of my actions against you. I have faith that he will grow into a loyal subject.”

  Sinnath finally lost control. A single tear slid down his cheek, as he held Gaelen’s steady gaze with sad resignation. “My lord, I know I have no right to ask this, but I beg it for his sake.”

  Gaelen had not expected this. It took him by surprise. The usual sentence for treason, besides the death of the traitor, was the confiscation of all his possessions into the coffers of the ruling house and the imprisonment or exile of his remaining family members. Wives could be sent to a secure retreat if no evidence of collusion could be found against them. Children were exiled along with lesser family. But this child had no family. He had not been legitimized.

  The room remained silent, while Gaelen pondered this development. Perhaps the impending birth of his own son softened his position. Perhaps the time had come for change, and Gaelen had become Earth’s instrument.

  When he finally spoke, he allowed some of the sorrow he felt to show. “Sinnath, I have a proposal for you. You do understand that your trial and execution must be a public one. The people need to be clearly convinced of your guilt and must see that treason will not be tolerated. So, in return for your public declaration of guilt, I will foster your son with a trusted soldier in my military. I will also spare him your public beheading. He will be placed in the care of one of my lady’s women until the trial is over and your body cleared away. He will be given military training and his progress will be closely followed.”

  Gaelen paused. “Your wife, of course, must be present to witness your execution. Your open and clear public admission of treason will benefit Bargia by preventing bloodshed by those who might otherwise believe you innocent. Do you agree?”

  At the word proposal, Sinnath had tensed. Now his shoulders relaxed. “I do, my lord. I am most grateful. This will spare my son much humiliation and grief.”

  “Then let us return to the council chamber, so I may pronounce sentence.” Gaelen stood. Klast held Sinnath’s arms once more, while Gaelen opened the door and blew out the candle. They returned to their original positions.
r />   Gaelen dismissed Haslin’s son to a guard, who would escort him back to the inn, and called in another guard to return Ornan to his cell. Then he turned to Liethis. “Liethis, does what has transpired sense true?”

  Liethis nodded, her face tight. Gaelen knew the pain such conflict caused her. If he had been able to spare her this, he would have, but he needed her there to confirm that Sinnath told the truth. “It does, my lord. I sense no deception in him. Only regret.”

  Gaelen nodded decisively. “Then let this be finished.”

  He outlined the agreement made with Sinnath. Then he pronounced sentence. Sinnath would give his declaration in the central square on a platform. There he would be publicly beheaded with his wife and household present. All his goods and properties would revert to the House of Bargia. Sinnath’s wife would be exiled to a secure retreat, where she would spend the rest of her life safely locked away, powerless but comfortable, with no correspondence or visitors allowed. Gaelen gave Klast the task of finding an appropriate fostering for the boy.

  Once finished, he looked around the room. “Does anyone have questions or objections?” No one responded. “Then let it be so. This trial is ended. Do not discuss what has passed here. I do not wish to give the people time to speculate. The public execution will be announced only one day ahead.”

  He turned to Klast. “Return the traitor to his cell.” At Klast’s short bow Gaelen stood, turned on his heel, and abruptly left the chamber.

  ~95~

  BEGINNINGS

  Klast found a small cabin in a glade at the edge of the forest, outside the city. The trees kept it hidden from casual observers. It had been left derelict, abandoned by its previous inhabitants some years past. Shrubs and wild roses had almost obscured the walls and roof from view and completely covered the two tiny windows. The door faced the overgrown rut that passed for a path.

  In back stood a shed just big enough for one horse and, in winter, one cow. Now it sheltered only Klast’s dappled grey. In the back half, the rafters had been roughly planked in, so that hay and grain could be kept dry in the mow. In the front, a skeleton of aged timbers held a few coloured strands of fading wool from which bunches of dusty, dried herbs still hung. The roof of the shed let slivers of sunlight through, where holes had developed in the thatch. Klast had plans to rethatch it before winter, but for now his attentions were spent on the cabin.

  They had talked again and agreed that the only real choice would be to join as husband and wife. This had to be what Liethis had sensed that Earth intended. Klast had assured Brensa that he could be as patient as she needed him to. He had brought Brensa here just a few days before, and she had fallen in love with the place. The roses were in full bloom, and their scent and colour had brightened her spirits.

  “Is it too small?’ he asked. “Too run down? Too far from the city? Too much work? Too lonely?”

  “No, no, no, no, and no!” she exclaimed after each concerned question. “Oh, it is perfect! The garden will grow here in the back! See! Beans, turnips and carrots here, gourds and herbs here and there a row of orange nasturtiums, for colour.” Her eyes danced with excitement. It warmed Klast to see her so, and some of her optimism rubbed off on him.

  “The windows only need new oiled leather to let in some light. And we have two rooms, just right for privacy in case we have visitors. Do you not think yellow will make a fine colour for blankets and curtains? And No-tail already loves it here. Look at her exploring through the grass!”

  Klast looked in the direction she pointed, just in time to see No-tail leap above the grass and pounce on an unsuspecting mouse. It made him smile. It occurred to him that it no longer felt strange to smile. He smiled much more now.

  Brensa flitted exuberantly from cabin to garden to shed and back. She crowed over a patch of Black-eyed Susans, just beginning to show the promise of their golden yellow crowns though a profusion of unopened buds. Her face darkened only momentarily when she spied the hearth. She turned to him with a solemn promise to learn to cook on it. He gave a shake of his head and declared that whatever she made was bound to be better fare than he had eaten on many occasions, and she immediately resumed her elated inspection.

  It was the first time since he had rescued her that Klast saw hints of the spark in her eyes that had made her so well-liked before. Errant curls had escaped from the braid that bounced over her back, and framed her elfin face. Klast watched her with a contentment he had not known himself capable of. Nor could he help but be infected by her enthusiasm and return her delighted smiles with shy ones of his own. It all felt dangerously delicious. The wish that had flickered with a tiny flame when Brensa had survived the fever now burned bright with possibility.

  They stayed only a short while this first time. When they had eaten the cold food Brensa had packed, he lifted her back in front of him on his horse, with No-tail once more tucked into the pocket she made for her in all her gowns. They wound their way back to the castle so they would reach it before dark. Brensa still tired quickly, and it would be some time yet before her strength returned to normal. Until then, he planned to make the cabin habitable and clear the spot she had indicated for her garden. At her insistence, he promised not to touch the roses. She loved the way they grew wild over the cottage and wanted to see to their care herself.

  They spoke little on the ride back. The feel of her relaxed body against his filled Klast with a tenderness he had never known before. It pleased him that she had embraced the solitude of the croft he had found. He could never live in the city. He needed the extreme isolation to restore himself. It also afforded a measure of safety, mostly hidden and unknown. Yet, it was not so far that Brensa could not visit the city whenever she wished or when he was called away by his duties. She need never be truly alone there.

  Klast had been especially pleased when Brensa had declared that at the cabin she did not feel the need to look over her shoulder all the time. She could relax there. That eased any worries he had over their isolation.

  By the time they entered the gate into the city, the sun had already sunk low on the horizon. Dusk fell earlier so late into the summer. Outside the city, the wheat had been harvested with the help of some of the guards and the many itinerants who wandered into Bargia by ones and twos. Most of these had lost family to the plague and sought new beginnings. The stooks of wheat caught the late afternoon sun and reflected a golden sheen. Maize, too, had lost its summer green, its leaves darkened with brown edges. Along the stalks ears filled and ripened, promising a good yield in another moon if the rains held off.

  Slanted shafts of light scintillated on the fine dust that hung in the still air. Babes sitting waiting for their suppers swiped at the sparkles in delight. Beside the small cottages that dotted the valley grew rows of beans, heavy with drying pods that rattled with seed in the wind. Some had already been picked, shelled, winnowed and stored in cool, dark crocks for winter soups. Plums hung purple on weighted boughs, and apples showed their first blush of red. These and other signs of recovery lent a growing air of optimism. As Earth showed Her resilience, so did the people mirror it.

  ~96~

  INTERLUDE

  Klast spent as much time as could be spared from his duties to Gaelen making the cabin habitable. True to his promise, he did not touch the wild roses that covered the two small windows. But, under Brensa’s watchful eye, he trimmed the ones hanging in the way of the door. The roof received fresh sod, which he chose over thatch because it would keep the cottage warmer in winter and cooler in summer. He also made the small shed snug and dry for the horse and eventual cow, and added a few lengths to it to accommodate Brensa’s mare.

  On the afternoons when Brensa could come with him, she spent her time sorting out the garden. Some perennial sage and oregano still grew there but had become entangled with weeds and grasses. They worked quietly, each engrossed in their own activity, content in being together. When Brensa found she did not have the strength to clear a particularly stubborn
patch, she would call Klast to her rescue. Occasionally, he grumbled about having his own work to do. Then he would watch her struggle, ruefully shake his head, and do as she asked.

  Though Brensa still had her small mare, they both preferred to ride the short distance together on Klast’s gelding. Klast used those precious interludes to slowly woo her, holding her close, stealing kisses, and occasionally stroking her neck and shoulders. As she relaxed and began to respond to his overtures, his hope that he would eventually be able to bed her increased. “Patience,” he admonished himself silently, over and over.

  Brensa’s hands grew dry and rough from pulling and digging, but she displayed them as though they were badges of honour. “I never was made for fancy needlework anyway.” She gave a rare laugh, her face alight with optimism, as she showed them to Marja and Nellis. The sound warmed Klast. He was glad to see Brensa regain colour and even put back some of the weight she had never regained after her ordeal in the cave.

  Since Marja’s son was due around winter solstice, Klast and Brensa agreed that it would be best to wait until spring to move into the cabin. Travel would be difficult once the snow fell, and Klast believed that Brensa would feel too isolated and have too little to do in winter. Brensa argued that this was not so, but conceded that she wanted to learn a thing or two about cooking. Winter would be a good time to do that, as she could not garden yet.

  Klast gave Brensa some basic lessons in preparing what they gathered, along with the rabbits and game he hunted. Those, along with deer and an occasional boar, would supplement the milk and eggs from the cow and hens promised to them.

  But he would not be able to relax until the trial was over and he and Gaelen saw what the mood of the people would be.