Her legs responded woodenly as she let herself be led through the castle, his hand firmly holding her arm. His grip told her escape was out of the question. Marja’s mind ran in useless circles, no longer able to hold a coherent thought.
As they emerged from the castle, she waited numbly in his grasp. Some part of her heard him hail one of his men.
“Argost, secure that dwelling to use as headquarters. And find two men you trust and have them report to me immediately.” Marja felt more than saw him jerk his head in her direction. “We have a hostage, Cataniast’s daughter. She must be closely guarded. She speaks with no one. No one must be told we have her. Have the guards find a defendable room upstairs out of sight. Take her there, and find her something to eat and drink. Find Sinnath and Janest. Set up a table and chairs in the front room. We will meet as soon as everyone can get there. Order must be established here without delay.”
Later, she would remember and wonder at the ease with which Gaelen assumed the role of lord. It appeared as though he had been born to it, though she knew his older brother, Lionn, should have inherited. Gaelen was the second son.
Marja listened with only one ear. Then she remembered who she was and that her people were watching her. She forced her head proudly erect, squared her shoulders and took in the destruction around her. Anything made of wood looked burned or charred. Only stone remained unmarred, though it, too, had been blackened by soot. Windows stared empty-eyed, their glass and oiled skins broken or burned. Doors swung from broken hinges. Torn rags and broken crockery littered the near-empty square.
Struck by the devastation, her resolve faltered. She stumbled, momentarily overcome, when he marched her past a large group of women, children and old men standing silent. They waited, packed shoulder to shoulder like sheep, guarded by soldiers who held swords ready. She recognized defeat, fear and despair in the bowed heads and slumped shoulders. Eyes stared at her with the blankness of those who had seen more horror than they could comprehend.
Her people, or what was left of them. Earth, what would happen to them now? And what of her family? Her brother, sister-in-law and their three little ones? Had any survived? The questions screamed in her head, but her tongue remained silent. Now was not the time. She must assess her situation, must think carefully about her next move. Everything depended on it. Everything!
Marja put up no resistance. She let them march her into the mansion, up the stairs and usher her into a small bedroom. Though she saw signs of scorching, the furniture here had not burned. She took in the sliced featherbed, empty of linens. No doubt they had been stolen. But a chair still sat intact, and with the last shred of dignity she could muster, she allowed herself to be lowered into it.
She watched dully as the guards checked the window and privy, determining that escape was impossible. They stationed themselves, one outside the door, the other inside, to watch her. In spite of their weariness, they appeared alert and ready to act. Neither spoke a word to her before or after the door closed. She eyed the guard who remained inside. He avoided her gaze, and she concluded that information from that quarter was unlikely.
After some time, a young soldier with a bandaged arm entered and set a tray on the small table beside her. Marja stared absently at the tray of stale bread and cheese and ewer of water, knowing she should at least drink, but could not find the energy to reach for the mug.
The sound of voices raised in anger seeped through the door, and she realized she ought to try to make out what they were saying. That, too, was too much effort. It occurred to her that she ought to be forming a strategy to deal with her captors, seeking a way to escape. Those thoughts warred with the desire to know what had become of her family, what the future would hold for her people.
Finally thirst won out. She put aside suspicions of poison and made herself drink. The water tasted fresh and cool and revived her somewhat. She forced herself to gnaw at some bread and cheese and take another swallow of water.
The enormity of her situation threatened to overwhelm her, but she knew her survival depended on staying focused. She recalled how she had recognized Gaelen. Just over a year ago an offer had come from his father, the now late Lord Bargest. He had sent a proposal of alliance. Part of the bargain had been a request for Marja to be joined with his second son, Gaelen. Gaelen himself had delivered the offer, and she had watched him from a curtained balcony. Her father had ordered her to stay out of sight, so Gaelen had not been aware of her scrutiny. Marja felt a moment of anger as she remembered that Cataniast had refused the offer. He had regarded it as a ploy, a way for Bargia to gain a foothold in Catania and subvert his authority. It had cost him his life and his demesne. A wave of rage washed over her, then as quickly ebbed. She had not the energy to sustain it.
Marja wondered if that information could be used to her benefit. So far Gaelen had kept his word. She remained unharmed and relatively comfortable. What plans could he have for her? Now that he had successfully taken Catania, would he see any advantage in keeping her alive? How could she convince him it would be prudent to court her goodwill? Could that be parlayed into concessions for her people? She knew letting her live would fly in the face of traditional thinking, which called for the deaths of all members of conquered ruling families. How would her position be affected if other members of her family still lived? If so, what difference would it make if they were still at large, or if they too had been taken prisoner? So many questions. So little information.
The spans passed, and eventually her exhaustion, coupled with the rise and fall of the voices below, lulled her into a fitful doze. Her chin dropped to her chest, her hands fell lax in her lap.
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Altered Destinies- Earth Reborn Page 31