Love and Sacrifice: Book Two of the Prophecy Series

by Tove Foss Ford

  Menders came rushing up the stairs and stood in the doorway, holding onto the frame. Varnia ran up behind him, then shoved him aside to get to Borsen’s bedside.

  “He’s just criticized my shirt,” Franz said, his voice shaking. He stood upright and looked at Menders. “I’d say he’s going to stay with us. I don’t know how. It defies everything that’s happened up until now, but unless we’re all hallucinating, I have a man who was ready to be nailed into his coffin who now shows every indication that he’s going to live.”

  Menders went to the bed, looking down at his nephew, taking Borsen’s withered hand in his own. Borsen was wasted and barely recognizable, but his brown eyes burned with life.

  “I’ve been with the Ghosts Of Voices Singing,” Borsen whispered, looking up at him. Menders nodded, not trusting his voice.

  The Shadows, Mordania

  12

  Captain Greinholz’s Great Love

  “A

  ll on the mend,” Villison said in answer to Menders’ query about his children, Arden and Koral. They had come down with the childhood form of putrid fever during the brief flare of the disease in Erdahn that had infected Borsen. At the height of the upset over Borsen’s illness, Villison had been called home during the middle of the night shift because of the children’s sudden illness and had been there ever since.

  “Did Katrin tell you how she hurt that ankle trying to get down the stairs to go to Borsen that night he was so sick?” Villison asked as they turned to walk into the Guardroom off the Palace Courtyard. “I promised her I’d let you know but got called home before I had a chance to see you. Been pretty preoccupied ever since. Arden had a mild case but little Koral was bad for a couple of days. Slipped my mind. Menders? Here, sit down!”

  Menders was aware of the hard seat of a wooden chair beneath him and a cup of scalding coffee being pushed into his hand.

  “She told me she turned her ankle taking the dog into the garden,” he said, his eyes meeting Villison’s.

  “What! Menders, I found her up there on the fourth landing in a blind panic that night Borsen nearly died. Said she was trying to run down the stairs fast enough not to get scared, that she was trying to go to him. It wasn’t barely any time after I got the Guard’s doctor up there to see to that ankle that the message came from Petra that my kiddies were down sick and I had to race off. Why would she lie like that?”

  Menders couldn’t answer, remembering his cruel words to her when he came back that night that Borsen had – died. And come back to life.

  “The time to talk to him is gone. You had a chance, and now it’s gone. So why don’t you just pour some more wine down your throat? Then it won’t matter a bit when my boy dies.”

  He finally shook his head a little and took a gulp of the bitter coffee.

  “She lied to spare me,” he said raggedly.

  Then he rose and began scaling the Staircase to Katrin’s Tower suite, to apologize.

  ***

  Dearest Little Bird,

  I was glad to hear you got back safely and that all is as well as it can be. I hope our father continues to improve. This has been such a difficult time for everyone. It was good to hear the news of Borsen’s recovery cheered him so much. He always loved his Little Man!

  Things are not good here at the Palace and I am in the process of making some difficult decisions. Katrin has begun drinking heavily again and there has been a return to lying in bed all day, not dressing, not bathing. Even though Borsen is recovering, Katrin can’t bring herself to go and see him. Once again she does nothing but lie around, sleeping all day, wandering all night.

  She still cares for Sunny, but she has lost interest in the activities she had taken up before Borsen was ill. She cries a great deal. I have apologized for my behavior during that time and she has forgiven me, but great harm was done. If only Vil had a chance to let me know she’d injured herself trying to get down those damned stairs to go to Borsen! If I had known she’d made that effort I wouldn’t have lost my temper and been so cruel to her.

  This is no life for either of us. I have spent the last two weeks thinking a great deal and have come to

  “Menders?”

  Menders looked up from his letter to see Hemmett, pale to the lips, standing in his office doorway, holding a Rollig message.

  “I was in the Rollig room when this came in for you,” he mumbled. Menders jumped up and went to him, pushing him down into a chair. He looked ready to faint.

  TO: MENDERS

  FROM: FRANZ

  LUCEN AND ZELIA DIED SUDDENLY LAST NIGHT FROM WHAT LOOKS LIKE THE SUDDEN ONSET OF PNEUMONIA. PLEASE INFORM HEMMETT. THE BURIALS WILL NEED TO BE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE AS THE GROUND IS STARTING TO FREEZE.

  “My gods!” Menders gasped, crouching beside Hemmett, who was blinking as if he’d been suddenly awakened. “Oh my boy, I’m so sorry! That damned fool never thought you might be the one to take the message!”

  “It’s all right,” Hemmett replied quietly. “I’ve – I hate to say it, Menders, but I’ve been expecting it. Papa was well over eighty, Mama was seventy-five. Last time I was there I could see they were frail, that anything might carry them off. It was just getting the news the way I did.”

  “I’ll arrange to leave immediately,” Menders said. “Let me tell Katrin.”

  He went up to the suite, where Katrin was stretched out on her bed, staring at the ceiling.

  “Katrin – Hemmett’s parents died very suddenly last night,” he said quietly.

  She sat up slowly and stared at him.

  “How?” she asked.

  “Franz thinks pneumonia,” Menders replied. “We’re going to leave immediately, of course. Please come with us. We’ll help you.”

  Katrin swung around so she was sitting on the edge of the bed and Menders felt his heart leap – it looked as though she was going to get up and come with them.

  “No,” she said flatly. “I can’t.”

  Menders felt rage welling inside him, but he couldn’t afford to let it show. Hemmett would need him calm and supportive.

  “Not even for Hemmett? Not after all these years?” Menders heard himself asking.

  Katrin silently shook her head.

  Menders sighed. He turned and walked away.

  ***

  Menders felt enormous admiration for the way Hemmett coped with the deaths of both parents and all the preparation and ritual that went along with death. He carried off the funeral formalities beautifully, wearing his dress uniform and looking properly solemn but welcoming as he accepted condolences from many mourners, Flori standing at his side.

  Menders was suddenly reminded that Hemmett was thirty-three and that it had been six years since Katrin had become Queen. Hemmett was no longer a youth. His youth had passed in service to Katrin.

  Stevahn had come along with them, as had Villison. Borsen was still in bed and would be for some weeks yet. His body was severely damaged by the putrid fever. Menders and Hemmett stopped to see him when they picked up Stevahn.

  Hemmett surprised Menders by lifting Borsen right out of bed and holding him close. Borsen surprised Menders even more by not protesting at being treated like a child.

  “I’m coming with you,” Borsen said forcefully while Hemmett hugged him. “Hang Franz anyway, he’s an old lady!”

  “If I took you over there against his orders, he’d hang me,” Hemmett burst out laughing. “You stay snugged up here and we’ll be back in a couple of days. I’ll bring you some of Cook’s special delights.”

  “I can’t eat real food yet, I’m still on baby pap,” Borsen groused as Hemmett put him back on the bed and then proceeded, against vociferous protests from the invalid, to tuck him in like a baby.

  Hemmett and Flori hosted a reception after the burial, in keeping with the Samorsan custom, wanting to avoid the traditional Mordanian wake. It was an excellent choice. People from the area congregated at The Shadows the evening after the funeral. The ambience of the Great Hall combine
d with Hemmett’s bonhomie and Flori’s graciousness converted a solemn stand-around into a quiet, homelike party.

  Conversations ranged through the room. People enjoyed one another and reminisced about Lucen and Zelia. The gathering became a celebration of their lives rather than a welter of unhappiness over their deaths.

  Hemmett, true to form, hunted up Lucen’s old helmet, which Lucen had converted to a flowerpot for his enormous, cherished, red geranium plant. Hemmett placed it in the middle of the food table as a centrepiece. It was a fitting touch and tribute to Lucen, soldier-turned-gardener, and his wife. Menders was glad Hemmett had thought of it.

  Eiren gave Menders a smile from across the table, where she was laying out a platter of cold meat. He smiled back wearily, thankful that he had her.

  Menders had been utterly determined to stay at The Shadows the night before the funeral, but by ten o’clock he was so anxious that Eiren asked when he was going back to Erdahn. He’d pulled her close and kissed her gratefully. Then he collared Ifor, who was always happy to pilot the steam launch, and left, promising to be back in the morning.

  Menders reached the Palace after midnight to find Katrin sitting up silently, staring at the wall, much as he’d left her except that she was in a chair and in her dressing gown, with Sunny lying at her feet. He gave her a few details of the funeral, who was there, told her how people had asked after her.

  “I imagine they hate me as much as I hate myself for not being there,” she said abruptly.

  “No-one hates you, Katrin,” Menders said.

  “Of course they do – and I don’t blame them,” she answered.

  Menders sighed. He was too tired and emotionally drained to argue or do anything but bid her a quiet good-night and go to his room. He found that he was unable to sleep and finally rose to check on the fire in Katrin’s room, as he had every night since she was born.

  She was deeply asleep, assisted by most of a bottle of wine, After he put a log on the fire, he looked at her for a long time.

  I must find a way out of this, he thought wearily. It can’t go on, for either of us.

  “I hope everything will be all right,” he whispered. “Sleep well, little princess.”

  Menders shook off his memory, bringing himself back to the present. Motion across the Great Hall drew his attention.

  Hemmett, who was standing very quietly to one side while people helped themselves to food and drink, had noticed something or someone. He raised his head suddenly, like a prowling langhur.

  Curious, Menders followed Hemmett’s line of sight and felt a smile cross his face.

  His longtime friend from a neighboring estate, Reisa Spartz, had just come into the room with her daughter, Lorein. They had been unable to attend the burial but sent word that they would come to the reception to express their condolences.

  Hemmett was looking at Lorein as if he’d never seen her before. He’d known her since childhood, but Lorein was seven years his junior. To him she had always been a little girl in pinafores and pigtails.

  Lorein was now twenty-six and had spent three years at a boarding school in Surelia before her mother sent her on a grand tour of the Middle Continent, including time at finishing school. Lorein’s and Hemmett’s paths hadn’t crossed in years.

  Lorein was as beautiful as her mother had been at the same age. She was a tall, distinguished, white-blonde with a ravishing figure. Menders knew Reisa was puzzled that her daughter had turned down many marriage proposals. Lorein was lively, accomplished, wickedly intelligent and would be a wonderful catch for any man.

  Lorein must have felt the gaze Hemmett was directing at her. He stood stock still, looking across the room as if there was nothing else he could do. She turned away from her mother’s conversation with another lady and saw Hemmett.

  Their eyes locked. Menders swore he could smell lightning.

  It wasn’t until Reisa saw Lorein and Hemmett gazing into each others’ eyes across the room, with people taking notice, that the charged moment ended. Reisa touched Lorein’s arm gently, speaking to her. Hemmett blinked when Lorein looked away.

  When she and her mother spoke formally to Hemmett, Lorein’s demeanor and etiquette were perfect – but she looked at Hemmett in such a way that Menders knew exactly why the eligible young lady was still unmarried at twenty-six. Hemmett responded in kind and Menders noted that his eyes strayed to Lorein many times during the rest of the evening, though they didn’t talk together again.

  ***

  Hemmett tapped lightly on the door of the room Flori used when she was at The Shadows. She looked up from her sketchpad and smiled invitingly.

  “You don’t have to knock, Papa,” she said, removing a pile of papers from the easy chair close to hers. “Please sit down.”

  “What are you working on?” he asked, getting settled.

  “Some designs for when Borsen can come back to work,” she replied. “He’ll be terribly behind and I thought having some ideas on paper would help.”

  “These are grand,” Hemmett said, looking over the book she handed him. “The men’s outfits in particular. In fact, the third one? I’m ordering it.”

  “Flatterer!” She laughed.

  “No Flori – the moment I saw it, I wanted it. That’s how Borsen’s sketches used to strike people – they’d take one look and drool to have the clothing he’d drawn. If you can do that, my darling daughter, you have learned a great deal from your apprenticeship.”

  “Borsen calls me his assistant now,” Flori smiled, making a checkmark by the desired outfit. “Once we’re back in Erdahn, we’ll go through fabrics and you’ll have a new suit.”

  Hemmett smiled, watching her put away her drawing things.

  “Flori, I wanted to ask you how you’d feel if I stayed on at The Shadows for a few days,” he said as she closed her box of pencils and sat back in her chair.

  She frowned a little.

  “Papa, I don’t mind, of course – and I understand that you would like to stay for a while. The thing is, I must get back. I’ve been helping Varens keep things running up on our floor and I don’t want to be away for too long.”

  “Would you be happy to go back with Menders? I wouldn’t stay too long. I have some things of my parents’ I want to pack up and bring back – and I have something else I want to talk to you about.”

  Flori nodded and waited.

  “You know how your mother used to speak of a great love?” Hemmett began.

  “Very well,” Flori smiled. “Is it Lorein Spartz?”

  Hemmett laughed and crossed his legs, sitting back in the chair and shaking his head.

  “Well, Papa’s carefully considered speech flies out the window,” he snorted. “Yes, I’m in love with Lorein Spartz.”

  “Have you talked to her?” Flori asked.

  “Only at the reception the other day. But I know. She loves me too. Your mother always said I would know if my great love came along. So I would like to have a chance to talk to Lorein and ask her to marry me – but I want to be sure you would be happy with that.”

  Flori rose and went to the teapot keeping warm on the woodstove in the corner of the room.

  “I would be entirely happy with that,” she said, carefully taking out two delicate teacups and pouring spiced, fragrant tea for them both. “I spoke with her at the reception while you were buttonholed by the mayor of Artrim. She’s lovely and had so many questions about how you were, how I liked Erdahn, how Borsen was. She kept glancing at you and I could tell – like I could tell with Mama. You brought Mama peace. Even when you couldn’t be with us, the idea that you were there in the world made her happy and peaceful. I felt that same peace in Lorein.”

  Hemmett accepted the cup she offered, wrapping his hand around it rather than trying to manipulate his large finger and thumb into the graceful but small handle.

  “I remember as a kiddie she used to love to hang around me,” he smiled. “I called her Firefly, because her hair caught any light and glow
ed. But I was seven years older and when you’re a boy and then a wild young man, that’s an enormous age gap. She was just a funny little girl.”

  “Not now,” Flori laughed. “She’s one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.”

  “Then we’re well matched,” Hemmett grinned.

  “I will not rise to the invitation to flatter you,” Flori said, sipping her tea. “You are already well aware that you are a very handsome and well built and vain man.”

  “Oh, well played!”

  “As well as Mama could have done it,” Flori agreed.

  Hemmett nodded and swallowed some tea.

  “I love your mother very much – and I say it in present tense because I will always love her,” he said gently. Flori kept her large brown eyes riveted to his. “She gave me so much – including you. I want you to remember that, always. My loving Lorein doesn’t supplant your mother.”

  “Big man, big heart. Plenty of room,” Flori smiled. “I know, Papa.”

  Hemmett finished his tea and carefully set the cup down.

  “One more thing you’ve probably anticipated but that I would like to bring up anyway,” he said. “If Lorein should accept me…”

  “As if she wouldn’t,” Flori smiled into her tea.

  “I feel that confident too, but hear me out, my daughter,” he continued. “If she accepts me and we marry, I would like us all to live together. I don’t want you to feel that you have to go out on your own. I don’t believe you’re old enough for that yet. You’re the delight of my house and it is always your home.”

  “Thank you, Papa. I have no wish to leave.”

  They exchanged a smile and Flori rose to get him another cup of tea.

  ***

  Later Hemmett undressed in his boyhood room, put on a dressing gown and spent a few moments neatly sorting away his clothing. Years of military discipline had made him very orderly in his habits – funny, considering the pit his boyhood room had always been.