Matt gazed around, trying to act like a curious new arrival. She resisted the urge to wipe her hands on her legs, in case someone was watching. For herself, if things went wrong, she might spend months carting stone around Cyningesburg, until she got the chance to put a knife in Oswald’s heart. For Eawynn, things could get far nastier, far quicker.
Maybe Eawynn was enjoying the role of mistress a little too much. It was nothing Matt could not handle. Eawynn was infuriating, stiff-necked, strait-laced, and could get under Matt’s skin like no woman she had met before. However, the thought of not seeing her again was a cold knot in Matt’s gut. And there was not a thing she could do but wait.
Chapter Nine
The palace was even more impressive inside than out. Any trace of neglect had been repaired or hidden. The walls were newly plastered and either embossed with interwoven designs or painted with vivid scenes. Colours burst from the walls. The pillars were draped in banners, all bearing the imperial crest. Light glittered off gold leaf everywhere. The tiled floors were polished to a shine.
They had crossed the plaza in silence. Now Eawynn’s escort spoke. “I should introduce myself. My name is Oswald Husa Eastandune.”
Eawynn was certain word had been sent ahead and he already knew who she was. Her task was to stay in her role. “I am Eawynn Husa Achangrena. But if I remember correctly, that was not the name you used, last time we met.”
“Ah, yes. You were a priestess in Fortaine. I regret the deception, but I was on a secret mission.”
“Your mission, was it…”
“Yes?”
“At the time, I didn’t connect the disappearance of the Shewstone with your visit, but seeing you here. It can’t be a coincidence. Your mission concerned the Shewstone.”
“I cannot reveal any details, but yes. Obviously.”
“You took it from the temple? How?”
“That may be a story for another time.” He smiled. “It has taken me a moment, but now I recognise you. I must say, shaving your hair was a crime. I am pleased you’ve abandoned the practise. You shouldn’t hide your heritage.”
He was changing the subject. Eawynn did not mind, although it would be interesting, sometime, to hear his version. “I had no choice in the matter. All priestesses were required to shave their heads.”
“And those preposterous names.”
“It was traditional for all temples in Fortaine.”
“In Cyningesburg, priests use titles for their positions. I am Leader of the Sacred Council. But a noble name is something to be proud of and shouldn’t be discarded.”
“I don’t think most in Fortaine had a noble name to begin with. Maybe the Thraelas started the practice to disguise their origins.” Eawynn guessed making derogatory remarks about Thraelas would be well received. Oswald’s smile said she was right.
“Indeed.”
They reached a pair of double doors, the widest so far. Resplendent soldiers stood guard. In unison, they opened the way for Eawynn and her escort to enter.
Any fears she was on her way to the dungeon vanished. This room put the rest of the palace to shame. It was an audience chamber worthy of an empress who claimed dominion over the known world. A small group gathered at the far end, a dozen or so elegantly dressed courtiers, around a woman seated on a high throne.
Eawynn paced the length of the chamber, remembering Matt’s advice. Don’t act the part. Become it. Don’t stop to think that a word you say isn’t true. How good an actress was she?
Empress Aedilhild Wisa Mearcweada Bregu Rihtcynn was no more than four or five years older than Eawynn. They looked so similar they might have been sisters. The empress wore a deep red tunic, embroidered with gold. She also wore a golden breastplate, although it looked more ceremonial that military. Gems glinted on her bracelets and the torque around her neck. Her head was crowned with a sunburst.
Beside her stood an elderly man, tall and stiff backed. He had a jewelled band around his brow, over what remained of his thinning hair. His was turning white with age, yet its depths still held the last hint of red.
Oswald moved to the side. Eawynn walked the final few yards alone and dropped to one knee, bowing her head. “Your Imperial Majesty.”
“You may stand.” Empress Aedilhild gestured to the elderly man, clearly inviting him to conduct the questioning.
He took a half step forward. “I am Ceolwulf Husa Elbacnola, Steward to her Imperial Majesty.
Eawynn bowed her head again. “I am Eawynn Husa Achangrena.”
“We understand you were told to come to Cyningesburg.”
“The Shewstone told me.”
“The Shewstone?”
“Yes.”
“It spoke to you?”
“Yes.”
“In what language?”
“Cynnreord, I think.”
“You don’t know?”
“I speak six languages. As long as there’s nothing about the words to catch my attention, I often don’t stop to think which of them it is.” Eawynn knew it might sound odd, but it was true.
“What exactly did the Shewstone say?”
“The first time, I must admit, I paid little attention. I thought I was imagining things.”
“You’d not heard it speak before?”
“Only when the high priestess conducted her divinations, and it sounded different then. I think what it said to me was, Soon I am going to Cyningesburg. You must follow.”
“Just that?”
“Yes.”
“It gave no clue why?”
“No.”
“Did it speak to anyone else?”
“I don’t know, but I doubt it. The Shewstone was locked away. Apart from me, only the high priestess had access, and if it spoke to her in Cynnreord, she’d struggle to understand.” She caught Oswald’s eye. “You heard her butcher the noble language.”
Oswald smiled. “Indeed I did. I must say, at the time I didn’t know you spoke Cynnreord. I compliment you on keeping such a straight face.”
“It wasn’t easy.”
“The two of you met in Fortaine?” Ceolwulf pounced on the words, frowning suspiciously at Oswald.
“Briefly,” Oswald answered.
“Did you speak together?”
“Not in private.”
Ceolwulf was wondering whether Oswald had told her to come to Cyningesburg, Eawynn realised. Judging by their tones and the way they looked at each other, the two men were not the best of friends. However, the steward’s doubts were not shared by the rest of the group, who were mainly looking confused.
“Why would the sylph want her here?” a woman standing at the back asked.
Other voices joined in. “What role could she have?”
“Might Iparikani have something to do with it?”
“It’s even harder to see why he might get involved.” Ceolwulf’s attention returned to Eawynn. “You’re sure about the words?”
With the possible exception of the steward, they believed her. That much was obvious. The empress and assembled courtiers were quite happy the Shewstone might speak and have access to hidden knowledge. Only the why of it gave them a problem. Fortunately, there was no pressure on Eawynn to provide an answer. She could act as confused as she liked, but she must not change her story.
“It said it was coming to Cyningesburg, and I should follow. Maybe I misinterpreted it, but that’s what I remember.” Eawynn looked at the frowning faces. “Whatever the reason, I’m grateful. Where else should someone of Rihtcynn blood be? The empire is rising again.” That was the right line. It drew smiles.
“It’s possible the sylph spoke for Eawynn’s benefit, rather than its own. They’re notoriously helpful,” Oswald said.
Ceolwulf’s frown deepened as his eyes switched between them, ending up on Eawynn. “You’re pleased to be here in Cyningesburg?”
“Oh yes. If you’d spent as much time as I, living among the Thraelas, you’d not even think to ask.” More of those present were on her
side, Eawynn could feel it.
Even the empress smiled and said, “I can imagine. As to what you were told, who can know the mind of a sylph? They do not think as we do. But your lineage. Who was your father?”
“Thane Alric Wisa Achangrena.”
“I thought as much. We heard of his fate.”
That was less good. Eawynn had no idea why the news had got as far as Cyningesburg, but there was no point hiding what they must already know. “He was executed as a traitor.”
“Maybe to the upstart regime on Pinettale. Swidhelm and his accursed lineage are the true traitors. Swidhelm betrayed the empire. It was an evil day when he claimed the island for himself.”
Who would have thought it? One matter on which Aedilhild and Matt were in agreement.
Empress Aedilhild continued. “We were in contact with Earl Blaedgifa. Had he succeeded in overthrowing the usurpers, he’d have acknowledged our claim to the empire and would have ruled as our vassal. We gave the earl what help we could. Sadly, it was not enough. In supporting him, your father died loyal to the true sovereign of Pinettale. He didn’t deserve a traitor’s death.”
“I knew nothing of this.” Eawynn’s face had probably said as much.
“We’d heard his three children were imprisoned.”
“His legitimate children.” Eawynn had never met her half brothers and sister. “I’m the result of a youthful indiscretion, but my father acknowledged me and gave me the right to his name.”
“Ah.” Empress Aedilhild leaned back in her throne, a familiar expression on her face. “Your mother. What do you know of her?”
“I’ve no personal recollection, but my father spoke of her often.” Eawynn gathered herself; she might as well go for it. “He said she was a noblewoman, of birth equal to his. They were young, and in love, and certain their families would agree to their marriage, so they were a little hasty. Which was when they learned my mother’s family had other plans and wanted her betrothed to a rich, elderly lord. She bore me in secret. Her family disowned me, but my father didn’t. He raised me for the first few years of my life, for the sake of my mother’s memory. When I was old enough, he sent me to become a priestess of Anbeorht.”
“As has happened to many before you in a similar situation,” Empress Aedilhild said.
Ceolwulf was still not happy. “Did you enjoy being a priestess?”
“It was an honour to serve the goddess, but…”
“But?”
“I think, had my father known more about the workings of the temple, he might have found another place for me. Blood and breeding count for nothing there. If anything, my ancestry worked against me. They gave me the most menial tasks, and I know, for at least one elder, it was purely due to jealousy of my bloodline. I don’t know whether Oswald Husa Eastandune has spoken about the practise of shaving one’s head and renouncing one’s name. It’s just so the Thraelas can hide their base-blood. They wish to drag everyone down to their wretched level.” Eawynn had the entire room. It was impossible to say too many bad things about anyone who was not Rihtcynn.
Ceolwulf would clearly have liked to probe further but accepted the mood was behind Eawynn. He sighed and faced the throne. “Empress Aedilhild, if you please, as your steward, permit me to give you my advice.”
“Go on.”
“I admit some things still puzzle me. Maybe they’ll become clear in time, but as you wisely pointed out, a sylph’s motives might never make sense to mortals. However, it’s evident that, for whatever reason, it directed this woman to us, the natural daughter of a nobleman who died in your service. She’s a priestess of Anbeorht and, to date, the cult of Anbeorht has been sadly neglected in Cyningesburg. I propose Eawynn Husa Achangrena resume her devotions here.”
Empress Aedilhild nodded. “Anbeorht. Goddess of fate and childbirth. It is our time. A new empire is to be born. Let us take this as a sign.”
Everyone smiled; a few even applauded.
*
Waiting in the square was unbearable, straining Matt’s acting to the limit. The urge to pace was making her leg twitch, and she could no longer gauge how long she spent looking in any given direction. In the end, the only way she could disguise her agitation was to push the bags into a sunny spot, lie down using them as a pillow, with her back to the square, and pretend to sleep. Luckily, this was exactly the sort of behaviour expected from a slave. All she then had to do was close her eyes and keep still.
“Stand up.”
Matt sprang to her feet. Eawynn had returned with only a junior priest as escort. Somehow Eawynn had done it. She had sold her story. An urge to hug her swept over Matt, but she managed to restrain herself.
Matt ducked her head. “I’m sorry, my lady.”
“Get the bags. We’re being shown to my lodgings.”
“Yes, my lady.”
The priest led them across the square and down a road running alongside the temple. He chattered away in Cynnreord the entire time. They passed beneath an archway at the rear and entered a series of small interlinked courtyards. This was clearly domestic accommodation, presumably belonging to priests. The buildings were two stories high, built of red sandstone with tiled roofs. External stairways gave access to the upper floors.
The priest took them up one such set of steps and into an apartment consisting of three moderately sized rooms. All had large unglazed windows overlooking the courtyards below. The furniture consisted of a table and bench in the first room they entered and an unmade bed in another. Matt dropped the bags by the doorway.
“Her bith eower bur,” the priest said with an encompassing gesture. “Ic ahope eall beon wel.”
“Gea. Thance thu,” Eawynn replied.
A lengthy conversation followed, involving a lot of pointing from the priest and a lot of nodding from Eawynn. Eventually, the priest said, “Beo gesund,” bowed, and left. Matt watched him go before pushing the door closed. Again, the urge to hug Eawynn presented a challenge.
Matt leaned against the wall behind her, trapping her hands in case they developed a mind of their own. “You did it.”
“I think so.”
“What happened?”
“It was surprising.” Eawynn sat on the bench and leaned her elbow on the table. Her expression hovered somewhere between bemusement and satisfaction. “For the first time in my life, my father’s name was a help.”
She ran through the entire meeting with Empress Aedilhild and her court.
Matt let her finish before asking, “Did you recognise Oswald?”
“Yes. He’s the one who came to the temple in Fortaine.”
“He’s also the shithead who murdered Edmund.”
“So you’re going to murder him in revenge?”
“Yes.”
“You promised you’d help me reclaim the Shewstone.”
“And I will. Don’t worry. I’m not about to rush over and stab him the first chance I get, much as I’d like to. I want to make sure I can have my revenge, and take the Shewstone, and get us both safely out of here.”
“I’m meeting him tomorrow in the Sanctuary of Liffrea, an hour after dawn. He’s going to explain my new duties to me.”
“Like I said, I’m not going to rush into things. Tomorrow is safe.” Eawynn would not meet Matt’s eyes. Killing Oswald was just one more source of conflict between them. A change of subject was in order. “What’s a sylph?”
“I’m not sure what they mean by it. It seemed to be their name for the Shewstone, but a sylph is actually a mythical spirit. Maybe they think one talks to us via the Shewstone. They obviously believed something supernatural was going on.”
“We know they’re gullible. They wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of sending Oswald to get the Shewstone if they thought it was just a ball of rock. They’d more likely be surprised if it didn’t speak.”
In which case, maybe she should finish her business with Oswald sooner, rather than later, before the empress and her lackeys started wondering why the magical S
hewstone was not talking to them. However, discussing this with Eawynn was not a good idea.
“Do you think they’re hoping the Shewstone will help them reclaim their empire?” Eawynn asked.
“Then they really are desperate.”
“The army encampment looks serious.”
“Last time around it took them five hundred years to go from grabbing Sideamuda to invading Pinettale. It might get nasty for folk on the mainland, but I don’t think you and I need worry too much. Especially if they’re relying on the Shewstone for help.”
A large wicker basket stood at the end of the table. Eawynn lifted the lid and peered in. “Ah. Good.” She pulled out a water pitcher and a wax writing tablet. “There are temple stores, where we can get bedding, spoons, candles, and other domestic stuff. If I put together a list, they should hand it over to you. While I write, you could go to the courtyard and get water.”
Matt grabbed the pitcher and headed to the well they had passed on the way in.
Two other slaves were already there, both women. They smiled at her. “Welcome.”
Matt smiled in reply.
“You’re new in town?”
“Yes. Arrived today.”
“There’s worse places to be, for people like us.”
“So I’ve been told.” Matt took her place in line. “What else can you tell me?”
“About what?”
“Anything. What do you think I ought to know?”
A series of answers followed, the women taking turns. “Don’t walk through the army camp at night.”
“Don’t walk anywhere at night, if you can help it.”
“The beer from low-town tastes best.”
“Try to avoid being sent to work on the outer wall. They’re shifting some big stones. Two slaves were crushed yesterday.”
“Stay clear of the steward’s men. They carry a little red fly-whisk, made from horsehair. They’ll mostly ignore you, but they piss off the other Rihtcynn who’ll take it out on you afterward.”
The Shewstone Page 22