Altered Destinies- Earth Reborn

by Yvonne Hertzberger

  How I long to see you again, to hold you, and to resume our life together.

  Please stay safe, my love. Heed my warning.

  Bain

  Certainly Phaera was elated at the news of Mathune’s capture. The war was over, mostly. The good side had won the day. And Bain was safe, as well as both their fathers. But Bain ordered - yes ordered - her to remain in the castle, even so. Though she understood his reasons, the idea that her confinement would not end yet made her want to … no Bain was right. Of course he was.

  She knew he would have said more if he had had time. A messenger could have been sent with this scroll, almost certainly had been, along with several deemed more important, and all in haste. Those had undoubtedly been taken to Captain Raskir first. News of Mathune’s capture was too important to delay. Yet Bain had taken the time to pen her personally and to send it. Perhaps Bain had even made the messenger wait until he had written this.

  Did she want him to say more? Was she disappointed he had not? What would she have wanted him to say? Phaera chided herself. No, those were the notions of a romantic girl; they were beneath her.

  She read it again and once more eyed her bed. Resume their life? Did she want that? What of the heir he expected from her? She was not ready. She had so much she wanted to do first. What of her apothecary, the one in the outer building? What of her healing vocation? And she was drinking the tea that would, she hoped, prevent quickening. If he knew that what would he say? Would he insist she stop? Would she obey if he did? No… she would not tell him. This was her decision alone. Or was it? Was she being honest with herself?

  She threw the scroll on the bed in a pique, then as quickly admonished herself. By the time the knock came to her door she had herself in hand again and could answer calmly.

  “Enter.”

  Phaera expected Mira but one of her guards opened the door and halted in the opening. “Milady, your presence is requested in Lady Flor’s private meeting room.”

  “Thank you.” Phaera rose to follow him. So, a message, no doubt, and too important to send Mira. “Who else will be there?”

  “Captain Raskir, Milady, and a messenger.”

  “I hope he brings good news.” Phaera looked for a reaction from the guard that might indicate he had already heard but detected none.

  “Indeed, Milady.” He knocked on the door of the meeting room. On hearing, “enter,” he opened the door and admitted Phaera, remaining outside as he closed it again.

  Captain Raskir was pouring himself a cup of ale as Phaera looked around. Lady Flor sat with her hands folded in her lap in an unsuccessful attempt to look calm and patient. A messenger sat in the second empty chair, a cup of ale in his hand. Good, Lady Flor offered him a chair. He looks about to fall over from fatigue. And they have not begun without me. Raskir is learning. She took the remaining chair and nodded to Raskir that she was ready.

  “Mellin, here, says he had orders that we must all receive his news together.” Raskir inclined his head to the messenger. “Mellin, please proceed.”

  Mellin straightened, a broad smile spreading across his face. “Lady Flor, Lady Phaera, Captain, I have splendid news. Mathune has been defeated and captured and is even now on the way here to stand trial.”

  Lady Flor’s hand went to her mouth, stifling a cry, as Mellin continued. Captain Raskir relaxed visibly but stayed calm and alert.

  Phaera let the man speak as though she had not already been informed. The others need not know of her letter or its contents.

  “Both Lords Makin and Danza, as well as Lord Bain, are unharmed.” He bowed his head at Lady Flor. “They will be home as soon as they can, but travel with prisoners so it may take some time.”

  Lady Flor had placed her hands between her knees and after taking a deep breath, regained her composure. “Thank you, Mellin. That is most wonderful news.”

  Raskir brought Mellin’s attention back. “There is more, I think.”

  Mellin looked a little embarrassed. “Yes, Captain. I am to inform you that not all of Mathune’s men, or his spies, have been found. You are among the first to hear this news and others will not yet know of Mathune’s defeat. Our enemies will continue to fight, to infiltrate, and to attempt to carry out Mathune’s orders until they are apprehended. I have orders to tell you that all precautions must remain in place until the trials are over, until all our enemies know the truth and have either been brought to trial or withdrawn in hopes they will not be found out.” He faced Phaera. “Lord Makin regrets that this must be so.”

  Phaera pressed her lips together to hold back her pique at being singled out. Mellin had not said the comment was directed at her but she knew it was, and by the look on his face, and on those of the others, they all knew it, too. Do they still take me for a fool who must be treated as a child? If they expect an outburst from me they shall not have one.

  She took a breath, taking care to modulate her voice when she answered. “That is wise. We must remain under protection until we are confident that all reasonable (she put the emphasis on ‘reasonable’) danger is passed. Thank you for bringing us this news so promptly.” She faced Raskir, asserting some authority. “I assume we want this news to be spread, that we want our enemies to learn of their defeat.” Was that approval she saw in his eyes? Was he beginning to respect her according to her due?

  “I agree, Milady. I shall have messengers sent out immediately.”

  Phaera looked back at Mellin. “Have you been given an estimation of how long before we may expect our lords’ return?” Phaera turned to Lady Flor. “We will want to welcome them home and celebrate their victory.” I know that side of my duties, too.

  Lady Flor brightened, looking both relieved and grateful. “Yes, indeed.”

  Mellin gave a slow shake of his head. “I cannot say with any certainty, Milady, but was told it will be at least a fortnight and perhaps twice that. There may be trials of enemies apprehended along the way, and, as I am sure you understand, travelling with prisoners will slow them down.”

  “Is that all, Mellin?” Raskir resumed control.

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “Thank you. You may leave us. There will be food and a bed for you at the barracks.”

  “Thank you, Captain.”

  Mellin rose, bowed sharply, and left.

  Raskir leaned forward, hands flat on the table as if to push back his chair. “Lady Flor, Lady Phaera, this is tremendous news. If you have nothing further to discuss I must see that it is sent out.”

  Lady Flor shook her head. “No Captain. Lady Phaera and I will see that the castle is informed.”

  With a relieved nod Raskir rose from his chair and left.

  Lady Flor burst into tears. “Safe, all safe … and Mathune captured.”

  Phaera put an arm around her shoulders, murmuring, “Yes, all safe. Such good news. Such a relief for us all.” She poured wine into the still empty cup sitting in front of Lady Flor and put it in her hand, then poured for herself. “Here, a toast to victory.”

  Lady Flor raised her head and with a brave attempt at a smile lifted her cup. “To victory.”

  When Phaera was certain Lady Flor had regained some composure she stood up and declared, “Milady, we must share the good news. We have celebrations to prepare.”

  Lady Flor rose with an expression of delight mixed with appreciation. “Yes. Let us spread this wonderful news.”

  As they left the room together Phaera said, “May I suggest sending extra wine and ale to the barracks so that the men may celebrate as well?”

  “An excellent suggestion.”

  Phaera allowed herself an inner congratulation. Lady Flor was once more in possession of herself and doing what she loved. She would not be embarrassed. Patience. My turn will come. But patience chafed.

  The news soon had the castle in a buzz of high spirits. Smiles wreathed every face. Everyone went about their duties with a renewed sense of purpose and satisfaction.

  Everyone except Phaera, though
she did her best not to show it. When she was finally able to return to her chamber for the night, and to send her maid away, she sank back into her chair. The bed seemed less welcoming than before, though she was weary to the bone. Her eye fell on the little, locked chest on the mantle. She had forgotten, amid all the excitement, to drink her medicinal tea. If she did not drink it daily it would be less effective. The small chest beckoned. Yes, she must not forget.

  The ritual of making and drinking the herbal tea comforted her enough that she was able, at last, to roll into bed and sleep.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  TRIALS AND CHANGE

  As they wended their way to Marston, Bain became concerned about the accusations of the people toward those captured and put on trial. This was not the road to peace he had anticipated. He watched families torn apart by betrayal and hate, even those whose actions had been minor. It pained him to see neighbours and friends turn on those they had trusted and loved. Too many of the accusations were minor, involving actions that under peaceful times would have been dealt with in local courts with far more leniency. This was not what he had looked for.

  Watching angry people make accusations too petty for crimes of war also brought his lessons in history to mind, both what was taught from the ancient lore about how the earth had almost been destroyed by such conflicts, and his own peoples’ history in more recent times.

  At the end of the second day he requested a private consultation with Lords Makin and Danza.

  “My son,” Lord Makin began, “You are troubled. What is it?”

  “Our ancient lore serves as a warning to us that we must never repeat the errors of the past and allow our world to be destroyed again.”

  Both lords leaned in. Bain had their attention. He began his carefully prepared speech.

  “Our own histories have shown us that whenever a war comes to an end we do not return automatically to how things were before the conflict.”

  “That is so. It takes time for wounds to heal, for trust to be re-established.”

  Lord Danza’s voice was neutral but Bain could detect the hesitation, the underlying questioning. He would have to present his case carefully.

  “We have presided over seven trials already. Other fiefs face similar ones. I see a pattern that disturbs me, one I believe will make returning to peace and trust more difficult and prolonged.”

  Lord Makin looked cautious, his tone letting Bain know that he trod on dangerous ground. “We already break with tradition in allowing the people to face and accuse their enemies – your suggestion as I recall. Are you now saying this was an error?”

  Bain shook his head. “I do not believe so, Milord. Please hear me out.”

  When both men regarded him with carefully controlled neutral expressions Bain took a deep breath. He had not expected this to be easy but it was proving even more of a test than he thought.

  “What I see during the trials makes me concerned for the future of our peace. The most important element of our healing is the re-establishment of acceptance, trust, and cordial relations. Many of those now accused have been exposed by former friends, neighbours, even family. Many of the charges are for offenses that in times of peace would be handled by local magistrates or even mediated between the parties themselves.”

  Bain could see both lords listening with less resistance, now. “Milords, I begin to question whether some of these accusations ought to be dealt with as actual crimes of war. Some are merely the result of old jealousies, or minor disagreements that have been made to appear as though caused by the war. Others are the result of fear for families and property. Some, mere greed. I now see that making the lesser of these accusations public actually causes greater distrust rather than leading to a sense of justice.”

  “So you do say your suggestion was misplaced.” Lord Danza’s tone was challenging.

  “I do not, Milord. But I do think we ought to modify how it is carried out.” Bain faced two stony expressions. “I think we ought to hear the accusations in private first, so that we may bring only those we deem to have truly committed a crime of war to public trial. We can re-direct the lesser accusations back to their local magistrates. I would also warn those magistrates not to allow their judgements to be swayed beyond what they would have decided prior to the war. We need to return to peace, not inflame hate.”

  The silence felt interminable. Finally Lord Danza turned to Lord Makin. He said nothing, merely searched his face.

  Bain sensed that his father now faced a test. He had named Bain his heir, aware that he had not been raised as such. Bain came with a past that could conflict with the training he would otherwise have received. He could only imagine that his father might now question that choice.

  Lord Makin came to a decision. “Give us examples of which of the last two days’ trials you deem not related to the war.”

  Once again both pairs of eyes focused on Bain, giving nothing away.

  “Certainly the rape of the young woman and the burning of the baker’s home were acts of war and as such are exempt from what I refer to. They were carried out as a direct result of the conflict, and by followers of Mathune. Those accusers saw real justice when sentence was carried out. But what of the woman who accused her neighbor of screaming false accusations of theft? What of the man who blamed his daughter’s pregnancy on deceit, when it appears it would have happened in any case? The girl was duped, it is true, but this had little to do with the war.”

  Bain gained confidence as he listed each one. “What of the sheep that was stolen and slaughtered on orders of Mathune’s men so they would have meat at the inn? What would have happened had the thief refused? Have we not seen cases where people committed offenses because they felt they had no choice, that they were protecting their families? Indeed, did we not send many of these men home to their families when we took the inns? Are we truly administering justice when we condemn and sentence them as though their offenses are far more serious than they really are?”

  After further consultation Lords Makin and Danza concurred with much of what Bain presented. He was relieved when they agreed to send out messengers to the other regions with orders to refer all accusations, except those that had created serious injury or loss and were deemed directly the result of the war, back to their local magistrates. The number of trials diminished and progress home sped up as a result.

  Keeping Mathune and his henchmen alive, safe, and secure was a greater challenge. Even with a circle of guards around the closed wagons, enraged citizens tried to intervene.

  Angry men and women pelted the wagons with stones, shouting invectives. The men guarding the wagons wore full fighting uniforms, including leather breastplates and hardened leather helmets. Yet that did not protect all of them.

  Bain watched as one poorly aimed missile hit a guard in the neck, just above his breastplate. He rushed over to tend to him, as he bled heavily. While he did need stitches, which Bain took care of personally, the wound was not deep enough to be dangerous. “You may rest the remainder of the day, but I expect you back in uniform tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, Milord, but I am ready to return to duty.”

  “I know you are but the day is nearly over and the others are more than able to handle it.” He clapped the man on the arm. “Enjoy the rest.”

  The broad smile he received told Bain that the guard was relieved. “I will, Milord.”

  When the pelting and shouting continued as they moved on, with another guard taking a cut to his arm, Lord Makin halted the troop. “Arrest them. They cannot be allowed to take matters into their own hands. We must return to law and order.”

  Bain admired his father’s command of the unusual situation when he addressed the offenders at their unexpected trial.

  “The war is over. We return to a state of law. Breaking that law will not be tolerated.” Lord Makin stood on the bed of one of the wagons that had been commandeered as a makeshift stage for the trials. “You, Rossik, are the one who hit my man D
erst in the neck. And you, Fanten, hit another in the arm.” Lord Makin turned to the small crowd that had been following them. “I will not tolerate my men or my prisoners being put in danger to satisfy your anger.” He gestured to the two accused. “These men will receive five lashes each. And others who are caught with stones in their hands, whether they throw them or not, will be subject to the same. You are all warned.”

  The subdued group watched the sentences being carried out, though Bain noted that the lashes were not dealt with full strength – no doubt at the order of Lord Makin who had spoken with the man in charge of carrying out the order.

  Only one watcher protested. The others hung their heads, knowing that this was just. The protester, too, was soon silent.

  When it became known they would be flogged the people backed off. Bain heard some grumbles. Yet, underneath, Bain sensed relief. People want predictability, security. They see it returning now.

  Kort met the party two days travel into the border of Marston.

  Bain recognized him from a distance. “Milord, there is Kort. I will ride to meet him.”

  At Lord Makin’s nod he turned his mount away, one hand high in greeting. Both men jumped off their horses at the same time, striding forward to meet in a great hug.

  Bain took Kort by the shoulders and pushed him to arms’ length, grinning ear to ear. Kort’s expression matched his own.

  “My friend, it is good to see you whole.” Bain slapped Kort on an upper arm. “What brings you here? Have you news?”

  Kort laughed, shaking his head. “No news, Milord. All is well. But your lady sends me with a request.” He spread his hands in mock resignation, still grinning.

  “Hah, why does this not surprise me?”

  They each took their horses’ bridles and began to walk toward the others, who had kept their slow progress forward.