“Every man and women must earn their keep. I shall feed none who does not advance our cause.”
The men and women in the hall ate plate after plate, and more seemed drunk than sober. Their doublets and dresses were fine and adorned, hemmed with the finest of silk. Justine did not think their hands ever bored callouses, nor earned a copper to their name; they were simply favoured, and all those who served Irwin Kole were punished. “Where is Irwin Kole now?”
“Must we dwell on that malcontent?” Lord Theodore declared, waving a dismissive hand that was beringed now, Justine noticed. “Likely scampering in our town, bemoaning his failed plots and schemes. Depravity will humble him, see that it not so!” The lord bellowed a booming laugh, and the high table erupted. “He is of no consequence.”
Justine did not think the lord would reveal any more of the trader. After eating a few choice slices, she asked, “And Father Curtis Lakin?”
“You do grate me, Justine,” Lord Theodore said, his eyes on the dance floor. “Will you not just enjoy the symphony of silk, the pleasure of drink, the delicacies we have been denied? I would think after months of camping on the barren ground you would be more grateful.”
She pushed her plate away and knocked over her goblet. The lord ignored it; he sat forward, eyes locked on the swaying of silk to and fro.
Is this what we fled for? Is the king’s justice much worse than a lord’s justice? This is wrong, all of it, it … her eye caught a faint glimmer from a small satchel hanging from the lord’s left shoulder. She looked closer, the lord still distracted, and jagged cuts of crystal thrust up from the dirty leather.
It is but the remnants of Mother’s Light, Gabriel’s voice echoed in her mind. Someone has taken it. Justine shook her head, disbelieving that it was Gabriel’s treasure. He had spoken nonsense, and how could Lord Theodore possess it?
The crystalline rock glimmered, and she could not pull her eye away from it. A compulsion inside her moved her hand towards it. She knew that so many men and women would see her, but she did not care.
Lord Theodore should not possess it.
“Justine, what are you—”
She backhanded Lord Theodore, sending him stumbling behind. Men and women shrieked as she stood and picked him up by the throat, pushing him against the wall behind. Tightening her grip, the veins in the lord’s throat popped. “Why did you take it?!”
“Justine … let me …”
“Why did you take it?!”
The lord’s face turned red, muttering breathless words.
“If you will not speak,” she said softly, whispering into his ear. “Shall the others who sit at your high table? Will they tell me what you have discussed in secret councils?”
“Justine!” Amerie shouted. “What are you …”
Justine swiveled her head to and fro: Marcus and Amerie held back the guard. Brennon shouted endlessly, but his words were lost in the cacophony.
All that mattered was what Lord Theodore possessed.
Using her free hand, Justine reached into the lord’s satchel, withdrawing the crystallized rock, white and clear. Light seemed to weave up and down her arms, filling her senses with clarity. It is the same as …
Lord Theodore, the nobles, the guard, her knights, they were all gone. She no longer stood in the lodge but hid behind the stairs of her father’s manse. Her father paced, agitated, and Lord Arthur sat at a table, frowning.
“Only if you are so foolish,” Lord Arthur said, his brow furrowed. “Would you endanger your daughter, Jonas?”
“I do what I must,” her father replied strongly “I did not ask for your help Arthur, and I do not ask for it now.”
“Yet when you falter before the king, the care of your daughter will fall to me. Would you leave her fatherless?”
“And if I do not act, how many sons and daughters would be left without a mother and father? Too many. King Adrian cannot reign another day.”
“There are many affairs in play, more than you understand. And what if he turns his gaze to Justine? I did warn you of that.”
“I will not have you speak of him, not here.”
“Conspire, then!” Lord Arthur shouted suddenly, rising from his seat and walking away. “Meet the grave!”
Then they were gone again as if they never were. Justine held the crystallized stone, and it shone, threads of silver emanating out. She did not remember the conversation, but she dreamed it once before, whence she met Gabriel.
Is this what Gabriel spoke of? I do not believe him, but there is …
Lord Theodore beat down on her wrist, eyes bulging. She let him fall to the floor, and he held both his hands close to his throat. The guards pressed inward; her knights so close, but the lord rose to a knee, waving them off.
“Where did you find this?” Justine asked, holding the crystallized rock in the palm of her hand. Lord Theodore did not try to take it, but she would not let him if he did.
“Did your father not tell you?”
She withdrew Resolution and rested the tip on his throat. “Mind your words,” she said. The guard pushed inward once more, but the lord waved them to stillness.
“I met in secret with your father and Lord Arthur. We all saw a change in the king. He greedily held that crystalline stone. It changed him. Your father acted, whilst Lord Arthur and I did not.” He paused, and Justine saw no lie in his eye. “I could stay silent no longer.”
“Ser Gerold …” she muttered, tightening her grip on Resolution. The pieces all fell together. She wanted to weep, but she would not in front of Lord Theodore. “He came for this. They were all butchered for this.” She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “Lord Arthur did not trust me to retrieve it, mayhap thinking that I thought as my father did. He did not doubt that when he let us go, and if I knew you had this …”
“You were better off not knowing.”
It would have been all too easy to spill Lord Theodore’s blood. She knew if she did that, rivers of blood would waft through the settlement, hers not least of all. “Lord Arthur let us flee, not for mercy or vengeance, but that he knew that you possessed it. You and him both are fools if you think King Adrian will not stir.”
“Justine, he must never find it. You and I can keep it out of his reach. You—my sword and shield; I will do what your father could never do.”
Instinctively, Justine placed the crystallized rock into a satchel on her hip. Rage seared across Lord Theodore’s face. “I am not your puppet, my lord. This is my father’s burden. I will see it through.” She sheathed Resolution.
“You do not understand it!” Lord Theodore shouted. “Will you throw away what your father died for?!”
Justine backhanded the lord, bloodying his face. “I warned you to watch your words. I shall not do so again.” She turned her back to him.
The hall tensed; none danced, and the nobles stood with mouths agape, though some of the women huddled together. The guard stood with swords drawn, and Amerie and Marcus looked to her hopefully, and Brennon stood further beyond, brow creased. “Command them to stand down, Ser Brennon,” Justine said flatly.
The silence was palpable. She did not loose her gaze from Brennon. The knight was loyal, faithful, but she saw doubt boiling.
“Justine,” Brennon said loudly and sternly. “I vowed to serve a kingdom blessed by the Mother. If the Mother ever blessed Trecht, She no longer does. I swore my sword and shield to you, and no upstart lord will ever change that.
“Guard,” Brennon commanded, “stand down.”
No one moved. It seemed like no one barely breathed.
“Living or dead, she dooms us,” Lord Theodore said hoarsely. “Stand down.” Slowly the guard backed to the walls, still and silent.
“You shall answer to one more matter, Lord Theodore,” Justine said without turning to him. She did not want to see his face again. “Father Curtis Lakin.”
“Flee before I reconsider,” the lord replied harshly.
Grasping Resolution onc
e more, she suddenly noticed a robed man was prodded through a side door. If the fabric was white once, it long faded to grey; there was no warmth to the man’s face, traded for soot. “Mercy!” he shouted. “Mother’s mercy! Mother’s mercy!”
“Father Curtis,” Justine said, running to him. A noble dressed in a red and gold doublet pushed him one more time, but she caught him before he fell. “What have they done to you?”
“Little that shall not heal, Lady Justine. There are others.”
“Take them all,” Lord Theodore commanded from behind. “Ser Brennon knows where they are held. Take your knights. Take your father’s obsession. Take the priests. The next I see you, Justine Duvan, I shall not be merciful.”
Justine threw the priest’s right arm over her shoulder, turning briefly to the lord. “When next I see you, you and Lord Arthur both shall pay a blood price.” Lord Theodore screamed at her, but she ignored him and trudged out of the lodge.
Justine did not halt until the boughs of the northern forest covered the sky.
Dismounting Red, she helped Father Curtis out of the litter, resting him against the bole of a tree. She placed blankets over him and dug out a fire pit. It blazed soon, and many others of the Faith huddled together.
“We will not go unnoticed for long,” Amerie said to Justine. “If they pursue us, they will know where we are from leagues off.”
“They will not give chase,” Justine said, drifting her fingers over the crystallized rock in her satchel. “If Lord Theodore wanted to, he could have slain us in the lodge. He let us live.”
“Do not play his game Justine, whatever it is.”
I have no inkling of what he wants. “A knight at every gathering, Amerie. See that no one hungers. We will ride at first light. The forest must divide us before long.” Amerie nodded and bounded away.
“You still defend us,” Father Curtis said unsteadily; he reached his hands out to feel the breath of the flames. “Once more you are our voice when we cannot speak, our sword when we cannot act. The Mother sent you to lead us, guide us. I know it is so.”
Justine simply stared into the flames. She would not deny it openly; the father needed hope and trust more than aught else. Her purpose in this land was at the mercy of schemes and plots of men like Lord Theodore and Gabriel.
After a time, Father Curtis asked, “Where will you lead us?”
“South,” she said suddenly, seeing no reason to hide it. “Past a great stretch of forest is an endless grassland, cradled by mountains to the west, with rivers and life criss-crossing. There we can build. There we can begin anew.”
“If no one comes for us, child.”
“If someone comes,” she said frowning, “they will regret it.”
The priest shuffled, seemingly agitated. “In all my years, child, I thought that devotion to the Mother would be all that I needed. Her succor would shield the faithful ‘gainst all injustices.” He sighed. “The king and his lords, and now Lord Theodore, who I thought was a friend first and a faithful comrade second. These men, they have made a ruin of that trust.”
“I have learned that I do not know anyone,” Justine offered. “I did not know the king, but my father loved and trusted him, vain as that proved to be. Lord Arthur was always a dear friend to me, until he sent Ser Gerold that fateful night. So much has come to pass, I do not know myself any longer.”
“I do,” the priest said strongly. A smile spread across his face. “You may have left us before winter, but you came back. Faith, mayhap, but you came back; and when you saw what Lord Theodore had wrought, you could not stand by it. You showed your heart, then. You showed it to all of us.”
Is that my oath, my vows, or because I need them?
“The white and silver shall not ward us any longer,” Father Curtis said suddenly. “Some of us, I see now, must take up steel. Will you instruct them, child?”
The question sloughed off her as water to a stone.
“Or are you undecided, still?”
The priest’s shoulders sagged, dejected. Justine shook her head. “I know what I must do. I did not think my path would weave this way.”
The priest pointed a finger to the others of the Faith, huddled close, shivering, still stinking of shite and urine. “We are all no different, child. We pray more fervently to the Mother than you, and that is all that separates us. We had imagined a much different fate, but we must band together, or meet the Lord of Death.”
The moniker echoed in her mind. Gabriel had spoken of the Dark God so easily, as if it was such a simple matter, as if Sariel awaited in the shadows. No, his words are lies. All of them. I will not be his puppet. “I will train as many as I can with the sword, but only those who are willing. We will settle all matters.”
Father Curtis offered a brief smile, before rubbing his arms once more. “You have not asked after Irwin Kole.”
“He is with the other traders, impoverished, still in the settlement. I wish we had time to root them all out.”
“Another lie.”
Justine tensed. “Lord Theodore spoke many lies, but I doubt he lied about that.”
The priest shrugged. “He did, though it is true enough, yet false under the Mother’s gaze. Not long after the first ships arrived, Lord Theodore acted against the Faith, but even in the gaols we heard whispers from the guards. Irwin Kole had fled the settlement with a score of men and women who laboured in the granaries. The guard did not give chase.”
“Where did he flee?”
“A gaol has no windows, and its door is guarded tightly.”
The priest fell to silence, and Justine brushed the jagged edges of the crystallized rock inside her satchel. It was dull and silent; its tingle that once was so strong, drifted to endless distance. She wanted to withdraw it, and ask Father Curtis about it, but she thought too much had come to pass.
Yet she knew a day would dawn when she could trust him with the knowledge of it, and she hoped he would provide answers.
Reaching to her left, she tossed a couple logs on the fire; the embers hissed and blazed, the light brightening. Half of the faithful around the fire were lying down sleeping, the others struggled to stay awake, taking in the warmth and the heat.
Father Curtis’ eyes were shutting, and Justine pushed him to the ground, re-arranging his blankets. He shut his eyes before long.
Justine stood and walked a few paces north, escaping the boughs and gazing at the stars above. The Faith had always claimed that the wayward souls of the dead drifted to the Unseen Realm above, masked to mortal eyes. She thought that perhaps the twinkling of stars were the unseeing gazes of that realm, and that her father was looking down at her.
Father, she thought solemnly, hands clenched. If I have not been lied to, I hold the treasure that cost you your life. Your friends, the men you trusted, they are both cruel and careless. Lord Theodore brought so much death with the very act that you did. Whilst Lord Arthur must have known Lord Theodore possessed it and let us leave with it; and the path that set me upon, that may lead to a fate I never imagined.
As a knight, Father, I must protect the Faith, but there is so much I do not know. How am I to choose?
If the Unseen Realm lingered above, it gave no answer.
Instinctively, Justine looked to the west. Naught stood but endless forest, though she knew Gabriel would still be there, plotting and scheming.
They are all liars and schemers, she thought sullenly before returning to camp. She buried herself in blankets and went to sleep.
A Daughter’s Burden
High Noon
29 March 14813
Justine parried Ser Marcus’ overhead blow, smiling all the while.
Sliding to her knees, the lanky knight stumbled and sprawled face first into the mud. The warrior priests gathered in the training yard chuckled and pointed at the knight, but Justine kept her eyes on Marcus. The battle was not done.
The knight surged to his feet, swinging viciously. Justine kept her feet square and held up
her round shield; the reverberations shook her arm, but she held firm. Countering, she swung her practice sword to the far left and right of the knight, forcing him to labour hard with every parry and block.
Justine relented and took a few steps back; she saw Marcus’ face tense, disbelief marring it. Desperation will rule his next act, she thought whilst pacing about the pit with her shield upright and sword loose in her right hand.
The knight lunged to Justine’s right; she parried the blow, countered, and met the heart of Marcus’ shield. He grinned and pushed her back with shield held out.
Heh, he is using his reach, but that will leave him exposed, she thought before ducking down, taking his feet from underneath, and holding her sword at his throat.
Cheers and applause followed. Discarding the practice sword, Justine gave her hand to Marcus; he took it, and when he stood, she embraced him. “You did well, Marcus.”
“I will see the yard more, until I can best you, Justine.”
She smiled at him. Marcus was not the strongest knight she trained—he depended far too much on his lanky frame—but when he tightened his stance, there would be few more formidable. “Not long now.”
The assembly of warrior priests—mostly men, but some women stood amongst the number—still looked on eagerly with wide eyes. It was if they doubted that a much larger foe could be bested.
Every foe is larger and stronger than you. I learned that long ago, Justine thought before addressing them. “Know your foe. The men and women you encounter in the field cannot be felled with the same stratagem. Ser Marcus is tall and lanky; few men, if any, I have seen with a longer reach and with such strength. If you cannot match his frame, then you must rely on your speed and agility.”
The number muttered fervently, and a few of the taller men stretched out their arms.
“Yet, do not depend upon that: the same stratagem would leave you a bloody mess if their speed rivals yours. Your technique, your sword forms, and sometimes your strength shall win you the day, and perhaps all who dwell in Dale.
The Prelude to Darkness Page 12