by E P Lenz
Chiara shook her head violently, curls spilling everywhere. She would have plenty of time later to dwell on these dark thoughts. For now, she could afford to let go and enjoy the air around her.
“Come on, Cassius, just a bit more to go,” she murmured encouragingly, sensing the tiredness in his shoulders. Chiara hopped onto the colt with the practiced ease of a skilled horsewoman who had done the same thing several times.
Together, the girl and the foal rode into the sunset ... all they needed was the music and a loving home to go to.
***
The next day, as the sun blazed overhead with an uncharacteristic heat, Chiara sat under the blessed shade of the old mulberry tree. All was quiet, and she was spinning wool, a skill that had been beaten into her by eight. Chiara sighed quietly, wishing she was able to read one of the old texts or books many of the other girls her age read. Oh! But it was an impossible dream.
She remembered the first time she had tried to learn how to write, when she was ten and two, and its disastrous consequences. She had been new at her uncle’s house. Livy had come to visit and she had made him show her how to write letters in the dirt. They had been so engrossed in their learning that they had not heard Gregory’s approach.
The winter had been colder than usual, and Chiara had all but had to drag her friend into the courtyard.
“Chiara! Come on, it’s so cold outside, and your uncle will kill me if you catch a cold!” Livy moaned, pulling his friend’s wrist, wanting to stay in the warmth of her chambers.
“My uncle will object to me doing anything but spinning the wheel! At least outside, we can do something useful!” she cried.
“Like?”
“Like teaching me how to write!” Chiara exclaimed suddenly, shocking her friend in more than one way. After all, it wasn’t normal that someone of Chiara’s age and status did not have basic skills like that.
“Um ... okay, but um, let me ask, don’t you have tutors who come in to do that already?” Livy asked with uncertainty, stepping back slightly.
Chiara rolled her eyes. “My uncle doesn’t like me reading or writing ... he says it isn’t feminine! He drove away the language teacher Mother chose for me,” she said sadly, hanging her head in shame.
Livy sighed inwardly, hoping not to get caught by his friend’s beast of an uncle.
“Okay, but if we get caught … we’re never doing this again,” he declared, and Chiara nodded her head excitedly.
“Sure, let’s go already!”
The children had barely been scratching figures in the nearby dirt next to some apple trees for half an hour when Chiara’s uncle popped his head through the delicate French doors dividing the courtyard from the siting area. Chiara groaned loudly; her fun was almost certainly ruined for now. She poked Livy in the side, trying to warn him but not fast enough, as she realized soon after.
“Livyus?” her uncle boomed, making her friend jump violently into the air.
“Sir, I ... I ... was—” Livy was terrified and couldn’t get the words through.
Chiara, even back then, had been the braver, faster one of the pair. She quickly chipped into the tension-wrought exchange, “Uncle Gregory, Livy is showing me how to write.”
“Go inside, Chiara. Livyus, you are not to teach her anything henceforth. I will do what is fitting regarding her education. Am I understood?” Gregory all but growled.
And that had been the end of Chiara’s lessons with Livy. She had tried to get Livy to teach her again, but he’d refused steadfastly after that day, years ago. Sometimes she simply could not understand why he was so diffident.
Omens of Change
Chiara was pulled gently from her wandering thoughts. “Ocella, Chiara, felix natalis.”
Although she certainly wasn’t surprised, Chiara was overjoyed at the sudden appearance of her best friend. Livy smiled as she whipped her head around, beaming. It was her birthday today, and it seemed the festivities had arrived! It was her ten and eighth birthday this year; old enough to be married off. Chiara had wished for the day she could marry Livy and break her uncle’s iron fist over her actions for years, and her birthday was the key.
Every time Livy visited her, which was becoming less often these days, he brought with him news of the latest political endeavors the queen had undertaken, and the consequences on her family and friends. Today, he was silent.
“Livy?” Chiara asked curiously, cocking her head slightly, “What’s wrong?”
“Hoc est rabidus. Why did it have to be on your birthday?” Livy muttered under his breath, taking her hand. He was shaking.
Worried, she asked him more urgently, “Oh! Livy, you can tell me.”
He took a deep breath, “You know the Pollia family, with little Venus?”
She nodded, feeling dread build up in her stomach. The shade under the tree suddenly seemed much too cold.
“The queen ordered them dead; Clavus killed the mother and father. Venus and her older brother were sold into slavery just this morning.”
She was shocked; the Pollia had never caused any trouble and had submitted fairly easily to the new regime, unlike some other nobles. Still, she could believe it. After all, it had happened so many times before.
“Oh no!” she exclaimed, her heart aching for the two children. “Venus had only just turned ten, and Octavius wasn’t much older, was he?” she asked piteously. Livy simply shook his head and hugged her.
They stopped talking as they heard heavy boot steps coming their way.
“Sir Livyus. What are you doing here?” asked Romanus Clavus.
Livy looked up at him, surprised. Clavus was an arrogant man, but he had never accosted Livy like this. After all, Livy was the eldest son of the House of Savoy and as such commanded great respect among the nobles.
“I do not answer to you, Clavus,” Livy told him shortly, disentangling himself from Chiara gently. Although he was not a warrior like most young men his age, Livy had grown into his title and was no longer the pushover he had been when they were young children.
“Lady Chiara looked shocked and unhappy. It is my privilege to ensure her safety and happiness,” answered Clavus haughtily.
Chiara blinked in surprise. Clavus almost never spoke to her directly, but to address her as if she was not there simply was not done. “He IS my betrothed, Romanus Clavus.”
Clavus looked at her for merely a second before sneering, “My lady, things will soon be changing. A lot. Please do not trouble yourself about this. It is between Lord Livyus and myself.” He took a deep breath, puffed up his chest, and told Livy, “I suggest you leave now, Lord Livyus. If you have a problem, discuss it with Lord Gregory.”
With those final words, he gestured to Livy, who silently bid goodbye to Chiara and walked away with Clavus. Clavus sent a short smile towards Chiara, sending shivers down her spine; Clavus never smiled. She was worried about Livy and worried about her secret guardians who had been with her all along after her parents’ murder. They had helped her, protected her, and tried to educate her in spite of Gregory.
What had Clavus meant with, ‘Things will soon change a lot’?
For whom were they about to change? In what way were they about to change? Had Uncle Gregory changed the terms with which her parents had left Chiara’s hand with the House of Savoy? With Livy?
She didn’t even want to think about that. She might not yet romantically love Livy like she was supposed to, like she had to, but he made her happy, and that was all that mattered. She was sure she would be a good wife to him. Perhaps Gregory was planning to give her away to someone who could further his political ambitions. The House of Savoy had not made any secret of how they despised Lord Gregory.
Maybe Uncle Gregory had found out about how The Order had helped to educate her, to keep her in the loop. Or perhaps he had found out about her abilities? The last one sent a shiver down her spine.
Over the years, The Order, either in the form of Aelia and Marcellus, or others, had been a const
ant in her life. Invisible to her uncle, The Order had given her purpose and training, and more importantly, knowledge of her mother’s identity.
As a primarily academic institution, The Order had always been more or less overlooked by politicians. And therein lay the source of Chiara’s worries. The queen never did anything on a whim. She was not a woman who did anything without rhyme or reason. The only reason she had risen so fast in a sphere dominated by men, why she was considered so fearsome, was that all her actions were taken with the express purpose of advancing her political power.
Her heart in turmoil, Chiara ran back to her chambers. She always felt the safest there, looking out at the trees in the courtyard and beyond. Many of the birds and critters frequently communed with her and were as good friends to her as her dear Cassius was. It was perhaps the one thing that could soothe the storm raging inside the confines of her mind.
She lay in her bed, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. After what seemed like hours, Chiara heard the familiar soft hoot outside her window. She was relieved to know that her owl was out there. She cleared all thoughts from her mind and concentrated on the owl, waiting for him to say something. She knew in her heart that he was going to say something. It was the same with all animals. But with Owl, it had always been different. The feeling was a lot stronger, as if he was her guardian angel.
Sleep well, my lady. You have a big day tomorrow. I will watch out for you.
A sudden chill enveloped Chiara. Why was Owl saying that she had a big day tomorrow? All her days were exactly the same. Nothing different ever happened. On most days, she rode Cassius, she spun and trained with Aelia, Marcellus, and that was about all. Why did he think he would have to look out for her?
Broken Alliance
Chiara woke up, groggy and upset, after a few hours of sleep following Owl’s cryptic comments. As she went about her daily morning routine, she wondered why she had been feeling so desperate lately. It wasn’t like anything had changed significantly in her life.
She had always hated her uncle, with the sentiment reciprocated in equal measure, if not more, by her uncle. She had always tried to get her hands on something written to prove that it had been her uncle who had killed her parents. It might not have been his hand that struck the killing blow, but she was sure that the order had come from him. In fact, the more she remembered about that fateful night, the more certain she was that he had actually struck the blow that killed her parents.
But all this had been a constant in her life for a long time. Why, then, did she have this prickly sense that she was running out of time?
Finally, she decided to take her dear friend Cassius out for a ride; that always managed to clear her head. She also needed to think of a way to get Livy to go up to her uncle and remind him of their marriage. She couldn’t understand why Livy had not done so already. His behavior had her worrying sometimes, thinking that he didn’t want to marry her.
She knew that he loved her as a friend and had done so for nearly all her life. Maybe that was the extent of his love for her, and he did not want her as his wife. Perhaps Livy was waiting for Lord and Lady Savoy to approach Gregory the Great. She just hoped they did it soon, for they might be running a futile race against the chances that Gregory would choose to marry her off to a lord who would further his political endeavors.
Chiara saddled up Cassius and went for a ride, a ride that took her right outside the village and into the surrounding forest. The forest had always been able to calm her fears and help her to think things out clearly. Today was no different. Chiara came back from her ride with a new sense of purpose and confidence. Although the feeling that she had very little time left in which to find incriminating evidence against her uncle still persisted, she no longer felt so desperate. Chiara knew that it was just in her head, and she had more control in the situation than she thought.
Back at the stables, Chiara brushed out Cassius’ silky black coat and gave him his oats. After settling him back in his stall, she turned around to go to her chambers when a gentle voice brushed against her mind. “My lady.”
She stopped mid-step and turned around. Cassius had never spoken to her before. They’d always understood each other better than anyone could ever imagine, but she had never talked with Cassius like she did with Owl. Her heart thudding, she sent a tentative thought his way. “Cassius?”
“Yes, my lady. Take care. I am always here to help you.”
A shiver of apprehension ran down her spine. Last night, it had been Owl with his ominous words, and now Cassius! All the calm that she had gathered around herself like a warm coat in the forest came crashing down.
“I will, Cassius. Thank you.” Chiara sent the thought back to Cassius and ran out of the stall. She needed to see Aelia or Marcellus. There was something afoot, and she needed to know what it was before it was too late. She spent the rest of the day looking for them and becoming progressively agitated when she couldn’t find either one. Finally, she gave up and returned to her chambers.
She was surprised to see a set of new faces in her room. The girls seemed to have been awaiting her return for some time as they jumped up as soon as she entered and started talking over each other. Chiara silenced them with a gentle, “Sshhh ... girls. Calm down. I cannot understand you if you keep talking over each other.”
The girls slowed down and one of them informed her, “Lady Chiara, Lord Gregory has ordered that you be ready to attend a grand banquet tonight. We are to help you bathe and dress.”
Chiara was surprised. She had never been expected to take a part in her uncle’s social life. She looked around to see a deep green, ornate gown laid out on her bed. It was more splendid than any she had ever had and she loved it. Even though she was concerned about this sudden change in Uncle Gregory’s behavior, a girl could always admire a lovely new dress!
While taking her extra-special bath, she learned from the girls that the queen and Gregory were hosting a very special banquet tonight to honor Romanus Clavus. Chiara scoffed, but the girls continued in their excitement, telling her how they were sure that the great hall would be filled with hundreds of political elites, loyal to the queen. Chiara was not sure why she had been ordered to attend and why the occasion warranted such a dress. After all, it was just to honor that deplorable brute Romanus. She hated the man and wanted no part in celebrating his cruelty, even if it meant that she couldn’t wear the beautiful gown. But one didn’t easily defy Lord Gregory.
The girls draped the fine dark green velvet gown over Chiara’s slender frame. It seemed tailored to fit her delicate and shapely feminine form, almost to the extent that she suddenly felt very self-conscious. After all, she was used to simple gowns that did more to hide her natural beauty than to enhance it! The girls arranged her lush auburn locks into an intricate style, adorned with gems and tiny flowers.
Finally, after what seemed to Chiara to be hours of styling and primping, she was escorted to Lord Gregory. He stepped back and took in her lovely appearance. Enveloping her small hand in his large calloused one, he kissed it in formality and guided her to his side in the hall. She was seated with her uncle at her right and Romanus Clavus at her left.
She looked around, trying to find Livy. Where was he? Or Lord and Lady Savoy? Where were her parents’ friends of old? She stared at all the unfamiliar faces gathered in the hall, and her heart sank. Had Gregory already killed each and every one of her parents’ friends? She had been hoping that the special occasion might be the announcement of her marriage to Livy. But he and his parents were not even present!
The music commenced, as did a ten-course banquet. Wine flowed generously and had the expected result, filling the hall with merry celebration. To Chiara, it looked more like wild, uncouth behavior. But she was not here to express her opinion on the matter. In fact, she was completely unsure of why, exactly, she was here at this celebration, which seemed to have nothing to do with her. She was utterly lonely among the hundreds crowding the hall. She was also
uncomfortably aware of the fact that, here, she was subject to her uncle’s fully intoxicated whims.
Chiara snapped out of her thoughts when Uncle Gregory signaled his servant and stood up. Attention was called by the trumpeting of horns and Lord Gregory the Great scanned the great assembly with a severe look, demanding obedience. The room stilled, and he launched into a detailed narrative of his successful conquests on behalf of Queen Anselperga for the glory of the Roman Empire.
He painted a scarily vivid picture of how, together with Romanus Clavus, the captain of the Royal Guard, he brutally crushed all opposition. He seemed to enjoy describing the horrors he’d inflicted upon those deemed enemies of the state. As did the bloodthirsty horde assembled in the grand hall. Chiara was ready to throw up what little food she had eaten and fervently wished for him to end the sordid tale and get on with the rest. However, Gregory the Great went on, with an evil gleam in his eyes, to recount several examples of those who’d futilely resisted and the consequences of their actions.
The hall erupted into a loud jeering and cheering about the campaign of terror and destruction, lapping up the brutal and bloody details with enthusiasm. Chiara was sick at the total disregard for life. Finally, her uncle raised his arm and the room quieted once again. He signaled for Romanus Clavus to stand beside him.
With Romanus Clavus beside him, he continued, “My dear fellow citizens! Let it not be said that Gregory the Great is an unfair leader. As everyone now knows, those who oppose me, the queen, or Rome, do not live long to tell the tale …” He had to pause, for this statement brought forth a new wave of cheers. Chiara wondered if the people cheering were really hearing the words or whether it was the result of the gallons of wine that had been consumed.
Gregory continued on after the wave of cheers died down. “However, stand with me and I will see that you are rewarded justly and elevated in position.” With that, he clasped Romanus’ hand and raised it up, declaring, “Queen Anselperga and I, Lord Gregory the Great, find great pleasure in honoring my captain of the Royal Guard, Romanus Clavus, for his unwavering loyalty and support. We are bequeathing to him the title of Lord Romanus Clavus.”