Druid's Bane

by Phillip Henderson

  “Your father is adamant on this one, Dee. And if I were you right now, I’d not force this matter or any other. You are walking on very thin ice as it is.”

  He was about to say more when a knock came at the door.

  “Come.”

  The door creaked open, and a servant poked his head into the chamber. “Excuse me, Milord, Milady, but His Majesty requests his daughter’s presence on the patio in the eastern garden. At your earliest convenience, Milady”

  Joseph squeezed Danielle’s arm, preventing her from replying. “If you’d tell His Majesty his daughter will be there shortly, I have a small matter to discuss with her first. Thank you, Mr Shrader.”

  Joseph’s instructions, and the worried expression that clouded his face as he gave them, surprised Danielle a little. What was so important that it warranted making her father wait?

  Joseph offered an understanding smile at her wonderment, and the moment the door closed, he said in explanation, “Faith caught me in the corridor this morning. Apparently you had a rather nasty nightmare last night.”

  Danielle gave a relieved smile. “It was nothing, just the imaginings of an overtired mind, and this business with Kane, I suspect. And certainly nothing you need to concern yourself about.” She leaned forward to straighten his collar. Then, kissing his cheek, she said, “Now, I really must be going. Like you said, I’m walking on very thin ice.”

  Joseph caught her arm before she could move. “Just a moment, Danielle.” He bit down on his lip, looking pained. “According to Faith you wrote the contents of this nightmare down and intended to discuss it with me this morning?”

  “It was an overreaction, nothing more, so I destroyed my notes in the fire before coming here.” The tension in his eyes scared her a little. She stopped and frowned. “What’s this about? Faith certainly wasn’t concerned about it.”

  He smiled regretfully and led her back to the chairs by the fireplace. “Sit yourself down and start from the beginning. And please, no questions until it’s done.”

  Obviously, he was not to be put off, so she did as she was asked, and quickly relayed the content of her dream, watching him all the while and wondering why this should be so important to him, which it clearly was. She also felt rather a goose, for what she related was clearly nonsense.

  When she finished, he gave her a stiff smile, clapped his hands together, and came to his feet. “Rest assured, I think it is as you feared: the wanderings of a tired, overworked mind. Now, you’d best go to your father—and please, Danielle, take his rebuke to heart, for all our sakes. Oh, and please don’t mention your nightmare to anyone else; there’s a good lass.”

  Danielle remained in her chair. She wasn’t going to be dismissed so easily. “Oh, no, you don’t, sir. I’m not leaving until you tell me why it was so important that I tell you about my dream and why it has you so worried.”

  He looked troubled again. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, lass.”

  “Why?”

  “Danielle, there are the things known, things unknown, and the things best not known.”

  Danielle came to her feet, her peace of a few moments ago shattered by a creeping dread that chilled her blood. All her earlier thoughts and fears regarding her dream came flooding back. “There’s substance to it, isn’t there?” She gripped Joseph’s arm. “The prophecy they spoke of, the mark I bear. Please don’t tell me there is some truth to all this?”

  “I’m sorry, lass, but I am foresworn on this matter. I know certain things that cannot be spoken of. And you should be well content not to be burdened with such knowledge.” He broke her hold on his arm and walked over to his desk.

  “Yet you’ll happily feed my fears when you know right well that I face Kane in the ring in less than six hours?”

  He gave a relenting sigh and shook his head. “Danielle, I don’t know the truth of your birthmark, or of this dream, and I have no knowledge of any such prophecy.”

  “Yet you know something. And I’m not leaving this chamber until you share it with me.”

  He sighed and considered her for a moment. “Danielle, please…”

  She shook her head and came forward. “No! You brought this matter up, Joseph, not I. Now, do not be so cruel as to leave me hanging. Surely there is something you can tell me. Anything to alleviate my fears.”

  He got up and walked to the hearth and stood in front of the fire, rubbing his face with both hands.

  “Joseph!”

  “I wish I could,” he replied.

  Danielle went to him and took his arm, making him look at her. “Does my father know of it?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “And the other members of his Inner Council?”

  “Yes, all except you and Eden.”

  “Then, please, Joseph. You know I can be trusted.”

  He slumped down into his chair with a sigh and gazed sombrely into the fire for a full minute before looked at her again, a gravity about him. “You are sworn never to speak of what I am about to tell you. You understand?”

  “On my life.” Danielle knelt expectantly beside his chair and took his hand in hers.

  He nodded grimly. “On both our lives, actually… Then I can tell you that although I don’t know how, you have described in minute detail what you could not possibly know.”

  “Meaning what? What have I described?” Her mind raced with possibilities, none of which seemed plausible.

  “The book you said Kane held to his chest—the green snake curled around the ancient well spring of eternal knowledge on its cover—you could not know what that is.”

  “So tell me.”

  He sighed, clearly reluctant.

  “Joseph…” she said testily.

  His eyes met hers again, and she could perceive a deep sadness there. “It is the Book of Minion.”

  Danielle blinked at him, not sure she understood. “And how would you know that? No one even knows if it was real, let alone what it looked like.” He’d said so numerous times when she was a pupil under his tutelage, and the history annals in the palace archives said as much—she’d read them several times herself.

  She felt a terrible trepidation prickle her skin as Joseph bowed his head. “Joseph? What are you saying?”

  He looked up slowly and settled a troubled gaze on her. “I can’t tell you how I know, but I can say that this abominable book is very real.”

  “But you’ve always said it was a myth… That Larnius’ kin drew their power from their brutality and the fear it produced in people.”

  He raised his hands to silence her. “I know, and I’m sorry. Now, please, lass, I need you to trust me. I’ve already said more than I should. You must forget that we ever spoke of this, and say no more of your dream to anyone. You cannot know how grave this is.”

  Danielle could see that he wouldn’t discuss the matter further.

  “Fine, you have a reprieve. But just promise me Kane doesn’t have this book. That, at least, will keep me content for the while.”

  Joseph smiled at the idea and patted her hands reassuringly. “I can assure you of that. Many have searched for it across the years, and I’m quite sure our resident atheist will never be one of them. I can also assure you the book can’t be found. And I promise you that I’ll have some of my esteemed colleagues at the abbey and a number of other places look into the matter of your dream and this prophecy, and if anything is found, I will tell you. Now, please, you must be patient and trust me. And I warn you, you’re to say nothing of this to anyone.”

  Feeling somewhat relieved, Danielle kissed his cheek. “Of course. You have my word. And thank you. Now, I must go. Father is waiting.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  As she made her way through the palace to meet her father, Danielle quickly read James’ letter Joseph had given her earlier. With everything that was going on right now, it was a welcome if brief distraction. He congratulated her on her victories through the course of the week and typically joked how he’d told
her it would be so, before apologising for the umpteenth time that he could not be there to see her beat her twin brother or celebrate with her afterwards. She smiled at the last bit, well aware of what he meant by ‘celebrate.’ The letter left her melancholy, but for the time being it was enough to know that she would see him again when they attended the Lunwraithian anniversary.

  She found her father standing on the expansive lawn that divided the palace’s eastern garden from the flagstone patio outside the King’s Hall, which was used for private royal functions. A flock of wild pigeons waddled around his shoes, pecking at the bread he was tossing to them. Seeing him, Danielle drew up at the stone rail bordering the patio and after quietly instructing Sir Willard and the other men appointed to her guard this morning to give her some space, she watched her father for a while. She had always loved his gentle, caring nature—he and James were so much a like in that way, and to see him chatting amicably to the pigeons as if they were his subjects, and feeding them from his hand with a loaf of bread fresh from the ovens in the palace kitchen, made her ache with regret. Lately she seemed to bring him only worry and concern, and she knew he deserved better.

  Promising herself that she would try harder, she tucked her letter into a pocket, took a few deep breaths to gather her courage, and ventured down the stone stairs to the lawn, determined to take his rebuke contritely. After all, Eden wasn’t entirely wrong. She stopped some yards back so as not to scare the birds. “You wished to see me, Father?”

  He turned to face her; his smile a little forced, and came forward. “I do.” He kissed her cheek and offered his hand. “Please walk with me.”

  Danielle waited anxiously for him to begin the tirade as they ambled slowly across the lawn to one of the pebble paths that traversed the tranquil garden beyond. The cool morning air was still and fresh, touched with a bouquet of scents. The eastern garden, with its ancient oaks, flowerbeds, shrubbery and little meandering brooks and footpaths, was alive with colour and truly a delight at this early hour. Even as nervous as she was, Danielle couldn’t help but be touched by the sight and sound of bird song all around them.

  “Do you know how proud I am of you?” her father said at last.

  She smiled remorsefully up at him. “I do, Father. Though I know I don’t always deserve it. And I am sorry this has been more often the case of late.”

  He nodded as they continued walking, and another short silence he spoke again. “You give me hope, Danielle.” He stopped next to a lovely stone footbridge. Faith and she used to jump off this bridge into the pond below when they were children. “When I see you stand where no woman has stood before, and deliver an address to the council as you did last week, or when I see that masterful talent you have for drafting legislation that shuts the mouths of your detractors, or hear that our ambassador to Amthenium has yet again scored a coup at the Grand Assembly, I feel as if the dream we share for Arkaelyon may yet come to fruition.”

  His praise just made Danielle feel more wretched than ever, and she bowed her head.

  “Yet I’ve been out here for the past hour thinking about this business last night—and, of late, more general things—and wondering what I should say to you. To be honest, part of me wants to rebuke you soundly. To strike Eden in company as you did.” He shook his head as if words could not do justice to his disappointment. “This kind of impetuousness and hot temper of yours is making me a laughingstock, and I fear it is also making you enemies I’d prefer you did without.” He stopped and drew in a deep weary breath and let it out, his gaze wandering to the garden. A rueful smile touched his mouth after a moment of contemplation. “Yet I can not bring myself to do it. For one, you’ll only argue with me as you always do, and more importantly, I know that in truth I have no right to scold you. Both Joseph and I have long seen what a burden we have placed on your shoulders. Eden will receive the crown at my death, sure enough, but he will rely heavily on your political guidance, and in that, the future of the realm and the vision we share for it rests entirely in your hands. And such a burden is more than anyone should be made to bear. More to the point, it’s unconscionable that a loving father should place it on the shoulders of his daughter, whatever her talents.”

  Danielle looked up sharply, hating the regret in his voice. “Father, I’m not forced to bear it. I carry this honour willingly, and I won’t hear otherwise.”

  He didn’t look convinced as they strolled onto the little bridge.

  “Besides, do you really think you and Joseph could make me bear anything I did not wish to?”

  Her father gave a small, sad chuckle of admission and leaned on the rail. “I suppose not.”

  She knew that this place carried a certain ambivalence for him, for Mother and he had loved this spot in the eastern garden and had often stood here together in the serenity of nature, smiling and laughing with each other in their own private world. Danielle felt his pain and, meaning to comfort him, laid her head against his shoulder. “I miss her, too.”

  He gave her a forced smile, holding back tears. “It’s hard for me to tell you this, Danielle, but when it happened I was very much like you are now: impatient for change, to the point of being grossly intolerant, uncompromising, and frequently tactless.” He turned to look her squarely in the face. “And truth be told, I was a fool. And what is worse, I was a fool without half your talent for diplomacy and law.”

  “Don’t say that, Father,” Danielle countered. “Your actions ended two centuries of bloodshed at Amthenium’s walls. They were noble and brave. And Mother did what was right by getting between you and the assassin’s arrow, however much we miss her. She saved your life, she saved Arkaelyon and that was the right thing to do. We should honour her for that, not live with regret.”

  “That’s not the point. The truth is, what was achieved could have been done in a much wiser way. The Amthenium Treaty, the formation of the Grand Assembly, all of it. You have to understand that the ends in no way justify the means. In that regard, often what is most important is the journey itself. With ten years’ hindsight to draw upon, I understand that. I know well enough that in my youthful exuberance, I merely sought the ends—anything to see Arkaelyon free from war and the formation of my dream of a Grand Assembly of Realms and Amthenium as a city where all can seek refuge regardless of religion and rank or culture. Well, the cost was too high, and I will not stand by and let my only daughter repeat what I’ve done because she is too wilful to see past her own impatient temperament.”

  She could not deny there was some truth in what he said. “So what do you intend, Milord?”

  “That will depend entirely on you. You need to show me you can be trusted. Rein in that temper of yours, stop provoking the Archbishop and his followers—and your brother Kane as well—and show yourself to be more compromising and tolerant. In short, nurture the brilliant diplomat I see in you over the impetuous child. If you do that, I’ll let matters remain as they are. But you must understand that if you keep going down this road, the nobility will very quickly label you a heretic and an insurrectionist, in which case you’ll lose all legitimate influence among their ranks, and you’ll be of no help to the commoners. You must learn to be patient and tactful. I will not lose you as I lost your mother. But the way you are making enemies at present among some sectors of the nobility that is becoming ever likelier. Damn it, girl, don’t you understand that most of the nobility fear you? And that which is feared is, sooner or later, hated. They see the influence you have with the indentured and free commoners, and the more you alienate yourself from your peers, the more their fear grows. Change must be gradual, or it will inevitably lead to civil war.”

  “You know well enough that I would never condone any such thing,” Danielle snapped back.

  “Yes, I do, but they don’t.”

  “Father, how can you say that? There’s not a man or woman in Arkaelyon who doesn’t know my colours.”

  “Oh, they know your colours, all right, but they don’t know which road
you intend to take with them. You’re too damned unpredictable. On no less than five occasions in the past year alone, you’ve shown open contempt for the Archbishop and senior members of the orthodox clergy, exacerbating the tensions between reformist and orthodox Goddians more than ever. Then this business with Kane, and spreading rumours when I explicitly said no to the idea…and you did this after I conceded to let you compete in the tourney.” He started counting the incidents off on his fingers. “You struck Lord Edgar Gilmore across the face with your riding crop six months ago at the annual equestrian—”

  “The pig tried to touch me; he’s lucky I didn’t have a sword in reach, or I would have seen to it that he was incapable of ever molesting another woman again. And as for the Archbishop, he goes out of his way to needle me on no other grounds than I am a woman. Meanwhile, we’re standing around doing nothing about Kane, letting him get away with goodness knows what.”

  “Danielle, hold your tongue and listen! Can’t you see what I’m trying to say here? One day you’re talking about compromise and the good of all Arkaelyon in the General Council, and doing so in the most balanced and eloquent way, and the next, you are throwing a Noren rose—the very symbol of popular revolution—to the masses in the city square, all but precipitating a riot! How can you be so foolish? You’re smarter than this.”

  It had happened the day of her most recent tournament bout. Entering the ring, she had thrown several Noren roses to the crowd who had shown their unfailing support for her over the course of the week. It was merely a thank you—or at least that was what she had intended. Until now she had forgotten all about it. “It was merely a gesture of gratitude, one that the commoners understand.”

  “Aye, and one the nobility also understand, all too well. Many of them lost relatives during the peasant revolution in Noren.”