Back From Chaos

by Yvonne Hertzberger

  ~97~

  PREPARATION

  Klast rounded up the remaining members of Sinnath’s gang, while Gaelen ordered the platform built for the public execution. Interrogation of Markel, the leader, and his followers uncovered no new information. The others, including Sinnath himself, had provided all they needed.

  Gaelen wanted the trial and execution to proceed with haste. Harvest Festival was approaching, and he knew the people needed that celebration unmarred by strife, after the long summer of disease and death.

  Marlis, Sinnath’s wife, was held under house arrest, with no visitors and only one attendant, pending her seclusion at the women’s retreat. That move would not take place until after the public trial, where she must be present to witness her husband’s execution.

  Klast knew that neither Gaelen nor his remaining advisors looked forward to that spectacle. To her immense relief, Marja was excused, due to her condition. Because of the high rank Sinnath had held, they expected the trial would attract some of his supporters as well as the usual crowd of curious onlookers. Gaelen planned a strong military presence to avert any unrest. Klast would stay close to his dais, in case Gaelen needed protection.

  As well, there would be those who came to jeer and those who had a thirst for such bloody scenes. Not since before Gaelen’s birth had a trial of this importance taken place. Only Marja and Klast knew how keenly he wished it were not necessary now. To all others he kept up the impression of solid strength. As lord, it would fall to him to give the public order for execution and watch it carried out. At least he would not be expected to order the traitors’ heads displayed on stakes. That gory sight was reserved for treason during an active state of war. These men’s bodies would simply be buried in an unmarked location outside the city, along with their heads, and hopefully soon forgotten.

  ~98~

  EXECUTION

  On the day of the execution, people began to drift into the public square by ones, twos and in small groups, jostling for position and staking out claims for the best view. A special platform stood to the side for the wealthy and influential. This had a canopy over it, in the event of rain or too much sun, and had been set with chairs. Many who expected to fill those chairs would be present only because they considered it their duty. Sinnath had been friend and colleague to them. This execution gave them no pleasure.

  A separate, smaller dais, also covered, had been erected on the opposite side. Here, Gaelen would preside over the trial and executions. Sinnath’s speech would take place under guard, at the centre front of the main platform. His neck would be the first on the block, followed immediately by the others, watching and awaiting their turn. These would wait, standing at the back of the main platform, heavily guarded and tied to posts.

  It seemed Earth mourned along with Gaelen and his party. A steady drizzle soaked the square. Those on the side platform were grateful for the canopies that kept them dry. The chill rain helped keep the mood of the crowd sober, dampening the raucous behaviour that could accompany such occasions.

  Liethis had requested to be excused, as she experienced excruciating pain around such events. But Gaelen explained that the people would accept the verdict more readily if she gave a statement about its healing effect on Earth and the future of Bargia. She had reluctantly deferred to his wishes. They agreed that she would not appear until after the beheadings, give a few brief words of a positive nature and have her horse ready to leave the city immediately after.

  Liethis’ message would be a true seeing. She had told Gaelen that Earth had shown her the trial was coming, and that it was a necessary event for restoring Her Balance. The death of the traitors would serve to balance the birth of the coming heir. Knowing this did not make it any easier, or Liethis’ pain any less. Gaelen knew she would not be able to take food for days afterward.

  At midday, Gaelen ascended his platform and stood at the rail. He nodded acknowledgement to those seated on the other side, then raised his hands to still the crowd as he made ready to speak.

  “Good people of Bargia. It is with a heavy heart that I must today bring to trial for treason one of my lord father’s most trusted advisors. Yet, we have undeniable proof that Sinnath is guilty of that blackest of crimes against Bargia.” Gaelen briefly described the evidence against Sinnath, then concluded, “Now you will hear the traitor’s guilt from his own mouth. Guards, bring the prisoner, Sinnath, forward.”

  Sinnath, ankles shackled, hobbled to the rail between two guards, who remained standing beside him as he prepared to speak. He wore the grey sack tunic reserved for those awaiting execution. He had been permitted to shave and bathe, albeit under the watchful eyes of guards, lest he decide to take his own life. Gaelen had suggested these concessions in order to avoid the impression that Sinnath acted under duress. His feet were bare, as was his head.

  “Sinnath, you stand convicted of treason against Bargia and your lord. What have you to say?” Gaelen’s voice rang out strong and firm, and he looked steadily at Sinnath. No one saw the effort this took, except possibly Klast.

  Though his ankles were hobbled, his wrists bound, and two guards closely flanked his sides, Sinnath held his head erect and stood with a dignity that belied the fate he faced. He waited a moment for the murmuring of the crowd to still and began in a strong, calm voice that carried to the farthest corners of the square.

  “Good people. I stand before you a man guilty of the most grievous crime against Bargia and our lord. You have heard the evidence against me. I tell you, all of it is true. I offer no excuses, no lies. When Lord Gaelen came into power, I mistakenly believed him too young and inexperienced to rule. This made me blind to the advantages of the changes he proposed, not the least of which was to take to wife the daughter of the enemy. That choice flew in the face of all tradition. And I am a man of tradition. So I conspired with others, both inside and outside Bargia, to remove the threat I believed this joining would bring. I see clearly, now, that I was wrong. Lord Gaelen and Lady Marja have both served Bargia ably and nobly.”

  Sinnath cleared his throat as his voice broke. Regaining his composure he continued. “If any of you have any doubts where I now stand, hear this. Bargia has a lord, stronger and abler than any before him, even his beloved father, Lord Bargest. Lord Gaelen’s choice of lady has resulted in greater stability than any victory over a conquered people has brought in history. The Lady Marja has shown her care for the people of Bargia throughout the plague that cost so many lives. And this, while carrying an heir; this, in spite of danger to herself and that son. Both our lord and lady serve the people tirelessly. I say to you again. I was wrong. I confess my guilt in the hope that doing so will prevent further treason and bloodshed. I go willingly to my death. It is meet and fit. I beg those who followed me to desist from any further treason on my behalf.”

  Sinnath turned and knelt, facing Gaelen. “My lord, I am grateful for this opportunity to speak. May your reign be long and prosperous and your lady be delivered of a healthy son and heir. Forgive me.” Then he bowed his head and waited.

  The crowd had not expected this. They stood in stunned and awkward silence. None of the usual responses seemed to fit.

  Gaelen wasted no time, not wanting to give the crowd a chance to begin its hubbub. “People, you have heard Sinnath’s confession to treason. When sentence has been carried out, return to your homes with his plea for allegiance to Bargia in your hearts, that we may look forward to a new prosperity and peace.”

  He turned to the platform where Sinnath knelt, his head still bowed. “Sinnath, by your own confession, and by the evidence presented, you are guilty of treason. The sentence for treason is death. Your wife, Lady Marlis, will spend the rest of her life in seclusion at Wemblin, with the women keepers there. She will be permitted no visitors or correspondence. All your goods are forfeit to Bargia. Your bastard son will be fostered with a man I trust, raised to love Bargia and to defend her, if necessary, when he comes of age.”

  Sinnath r
aised his head and shot Gaelen a look of profound gratitude at this public declaration of his promise.

  “Now,” regret crept into Gaelen’s voice, though it remained strong and all could clearly hear, “you will place your neck on the block and have it severed from your body. The same will follow for those with you. Let all know the punishment for treason. Let it be done.”

  The two guards helped Sinnath to his feet, led him to the block, and lowered him so that his neck rested on it. Sinnath did not hesitate. Later, all would admire his courage. The axe-man raised his weapon high above his head and looked to Gaelen for his signal. At Gaelen’s nod he swung with all his strength. The axe curved in a wide arc and bit into its first target. The crowd gasped in unison as they watched the head roll into the waiting basket, and Sinnath’s blood spurt past in great gouts and dwindle to nothing. Waiting soldiers quickly removed the body, and replaced the basket containing his head with a fresh one.

  The remaining prisoners followed Sinnath’s fate in quick succession. The stunned crowd remained mostly silent. As soon as all the heads and bodies had been collected onto the waiting wagon, they were taken out of the city to an undisclosed burial place. Though rumours abounded, no one ever knew for certain where the bodies lay buried.

  Gaelen raised his arms for quiet again as soon as the last corpse had been removed. He called Liethis to the dais, and she quietly took her place behind him. He moved aside to make room for her before he spoke again.

  “My people. You have seen justice carried out today. Now hear the seer Liethis. You know her as true seer to my court. Hear her message from Earth.” He stepped back a pace and indicated to Liethis to take his place.

  Liethis’ face was chalk pale, and she clenched the rail with white knuckles, barely able to hold herself up. She clung on with sheer determination and took a deep breath to steady herself.

  With the exhaling of that breath, Gaelen saw Earth channel strength into her. She spoke as Liethis, yet not Liethis, her voice somehow more melodious and richer. The sound carried to the far corners of the square, though Liethis spoke in a moderate tone.

  “Good people of Bargia. You have witnessed a cleansing. The stain of treason is removed. Soon another, more joyful, event awaits you, the birth of a son to your lord and lady, a strong heir. Bargia enters a new cycle of hope and prosperity. Prepare for the Harvest Festival with joy and confidence.” The channel left her, and Liethis sagged, once more ready to drop. She stepped unsteadily back from the rail and let herself be assisted from the dais. Gaelen stepped up quickly to distract the people from her weakness.

  “You have heard the seer, Liethis. Earth begins a new cycle which will bring an heir, good harvest and a bright future. Let us look forward to these joyful events.”

  With that he spun abruptly on his heel, left the dais, and strode swiftly away from the scene. He indicated to Klast, standing inconspicuously to one side, to follow.

  ~99~

  FESTIVAL

  The day of Harvest Festival glittered at dawn with a thick layer of hoar frost on the trees and bushes. The people, accustomed to rising with first light, exclaimed over the sparkle it added to the garlands of red and gold leaves and herbs, the decorative sheaves of yellow barley and spelt and the tall stalks of maize tied to lintels and set by doorways. A coating of crystal limned even the rooflines of homes and sheds. Bargians, young and old, regarded it as a good omen. By midday, the frost had given in to the sun, which shone bright and warm and chased it into the sky in gauzy filaments of haze.

  On this special day, all able hands set to making final preparations for the festivities. In the city, the cold almost masked the stench of the middens and the run-off trenches along the sides of the streets. As fires and ovens brought their wares to peak perfection, the aromas of cooking, baking, and roasting chased the last vestiges of unpleasantness away.

  Around the outer edge of the square, great spits had been set over fires, where older children took shifts turning whole boar, late lambs and haunches of venison. Between these, smaller vendors set up stands where sweets could be found; honeyed fruits, nut cakes, fruited buns, and all manner of breads, new cheeses, and smoked meats.

  Bakers in the city set up tables to the side of the square, in preparation for the gifts from their ovens. On them they lay cloths of snowy linen, with stones on each corner to prevent the wind from blowing them away, until the breads would hold them in place.

  In the very centre of the square stood a huge platform, one corner covered with an oiled linen canopy. Musicians would perform under it later, and dancers would throng the platform. Those unable to find room on top would spill out onto the cobblestones below. Tonight, rich and poor alike would vie for space there, all differences of wealth or position forgotten for this one event. Even Marja and Gaelen were expected to join in for at least one dance.

  This evening would be the one time in the year when artisans and shopkeepers would offer samples of their wares, free to all to eat at the Festival. Of course, this also provided a forum for enticing future customers. The better their products, the more patronage they stood to garner for the rest of the year.

  By late afternoon, hawkers could be heard calling out to potential tasters in mock competition with each other.

  “Here, try the finest honey cakes in Bargia! None better in all the One Isle!”

  “Best cheese this side of the river! Chosen by Lord Gaelen himself!”

  “Taste the wines that grace the tables of the castle!”

  “Buy your sweetheart a shiny bauble. You will win her heart forever!”

  A merry cacophony of sound filled the air, interspersed by the tinkling of bells, low thrumming on small drums and snatches of bawdy songs and gay ditties sung by roving minstrels.

  In the trader’s field, travellers with carts and tents sold charms or brightly coloured scarves, hawked to young maids or to their sweethearts. Soothsayers made predictions of prosperity and love for all who entered their tents with coin in hand. Travellers set up tents in which all manner of strange sights could be seen for a small fee: a two-headed chicken, a man who could contort himself into wondrous shapes, a bearded woman. Small stages offered puppet shows and mime.

  The feasting, music and dancing of Harvest Festival, the last important holiday before the hard winter, offered the people an opportunity to visit, to mingle, to make new acquaintances and renew old friendships. Many romances began here, often the result of a gift of one of the trader’s scarves or a bauble given to a chosen maiden. Harvest was the traditional time for joinings, when men and women agreed to bond their lives together. No surprise, then, that many babes were born nine or ten moons later.

  As the first rosy glow of dusk appeared on the horizon, Lord Gaelen and Lady Marja walked out, arm in arm, and made a progress around the square, greeting subjects and accepting tokens of goodwill and wishes for the healthy arrival of the babe. Many women considered it good luck to touch Marja’s distended belly, hoping their own births, or those of their children, would benefit. Marja, though near her time and becoming uncomfortable, bore this with admirable grace. Gaelen kept his arm securely around her waist, ready to defend her. Klast hovered close behind, invisible among the revellers. Two guards walked to each side and in front and behind, at a discreet distance, their presence underplayed. This was a calculated risk Gaelen had to take, and fortunately greater security was not necessary today.

  When their processional around the square had finished, Gaelen led Marja to the nearest table, where a waiting servant handed him two huge platters. He passed one to Marja, and together they made another round of the square, taking bits from each stand, careful not to show preference for one over the other. With their plates heaped high, they ascended the small covered platform erected to one side and sat in the two chairs set out for them behind a rough table covered in blue linen. There pewter goblets filled with wine, or cider in Marja’s case, awaited them.

  Not until a broadly grinning Gaelen had plac
ed the first bite in Marja’s mouth, and Marja followed with one in his, did the people raise a great whoop of cheer and begin to fill their own stomachs. The festival had officially begun. The din of happy talk, competing music, and the rumblings of the jostling crowd made speech between Gaelen and Marja impossible, so they contented themselves with indulgent grins and tired smiles.

  After the musicians had eaten their fill, the first climbed the platform, took their place under the canopy and began the more lively dance tunes that would tire the children out. Soon, sated and exhausted, they would fall asleep in parents’ laps or on blankets to the side of the square. As darkness descended and stars peeked brightly over the scene, the feast grew more sedate. People found quiet spots to sit and listen to the ballads, lays and heroic songs that the musicians offered after dark. Then, in ones, twos and family groups, they melted into the darkness and headed for bed or to private trysts.

  Many heads would suffer in the morning from too much ale and wine, but the work of the harvest had been mostly finished, and no one expected to rise with the dawn. Bakers would not bake, butchers would offer only cooked meats left over from the feast and shops would remain closed until after midday. Customers would be too tired to shop anyway.

  ~100~

  A WARNING

  As winter solstice drew near, Marja kept more and more to the castle and to her chambers. She complained of discomfort, and when she spent time on her feet, her back ached. She began to experience random cramps, which Lotha assured her were normal so near her time. Gaelen felt relieved that with the birth so near, Lotha kept close to the castle so she could be available at a moment’s notice. Her apprentice took on the burden of her other patients in the interim.

  Lotha told them she did have one worry, however. “The babe has taken the upside-down, breech position. I hope the child will turn, but time is running short. It appears unlikely.”