Retribution

by Benjamin J Boswell

  The marines and Cielian Guardsman poured out of their carriages, taking up position around them, with some moving off further into the surrounding area. Since no one had known they were coming, Esther doubted such precautions were necessary, but since the first attempt on her life that had almost cost her the lives of her babes, she wouldn’t criticize Oluchi or Sergeant Taavi—who Lt. Jobias had assigned to lead her marines on this excursion—for being too cautious.

  A Cielian Guardsman along with one of her marines headed into the Inn to let the Innkeeper know they were there. One of her other marines would fetch the town mayor—it would be rude for her to visit his town without announcing her presence at all—but she didn’t wait for him to return before walking towards the door of the Inn.

  Given that it was Christmas Eve, Esther had let Marigold apply gold paint and face makeup, and she had worn one of her most elegant gowns—a pure white lehenga skirt and choli blouse with a sari cloth wrap.

  She also wore a pure white dupatta scarf draped over her head with a golden patterned stripe all around its edge—the same one she’d worn when she had met with Admiral Marsena after the Battle of Ardmorr. She felt a bit over-dressed, but it was Christmas Eve and she wanted to wear her best at the church tonight. Besides, the thick white Cielian coat she wore over the outfit hopefully helped tone it down. Fortunately, Christmas Eve was one of the days that she could get away with not wearing her crown at a public event. Because the focus was to be on the birth of the Redeemer, no Monarch in all of Christendom wore a crown on Christmas Eve. It was a symbol of humility.

  Lady Adeline looked just as splendid in her own Ardmorran style gown, as did Marigold. Christmas Eve was the only day in the year that Esther could remember her provocative friend wearing clothing that completely hid her figure. An attestation to Marigold’s own humility. Geoffrey wore his finest suit and looked extremely handsome as well.

  A guardsman held open the door to the Inn and Esther walked through. The celebratory laughter had died down and quiet whispers flew between patrons. A Guardsman was talking with the Innkeeper who looked at Esther and back at the Guardsman, a look of surprise evident on his face. She didn’t want to make these villagers feel awkward or ruin their Christmas Eve celebration just by her presence and she thought she knew just how to fix that. She leaned over to Geoffrey and whispered into his ear.

  Geoffrey nodded back to her with a smile. “Alright everyone,” he shouted. “If I could please have your attention! Everyone, your attention please! All drinks and meals served in the Inn tonight are being paid for by Her Majesty, Queen Esther of Hadiq, so please, drink up and enjoy this Merry Christmas Eve!”

  A cheerful roar filled the air as patrons shouted joyously. Yells of “Long Live Queen Esther!” could be heard from many tables. The Guardsman finished talking to the Innkeeper and walked over.

  “Your Majesty,” said the Cielian Guardman. “The Innkeeper says that he will arrange a table for you. However, he says that the whole Inn is full and that he will have to arrange for someone to move. He apologizes, but it may take a few minutes to make the arrangements.”

  “Oh, no, please tell the Innkeeper not to move anybody. We will find other accommodations.” The guardsman looked surprised.

  “But, Your Majesty, this is the only Inn in town and the only town for miles. There are no other accommodations.”

  Esther smiled. “You may not know me very well, but I wasn’t always a Queen. It’ll be fine. Now go, please tell the Innkeeper not to move anyone.”

  The Guardsman hesitated a moment, then walked back to the Innkeeper and told him what she had said. The Innkeeper started shaking his head and was obviously agitated, but the Guardsman just kept pointing to her.

  “Your Majesty!” came a booming voice from behind her in clear Northerner. Esther turned to see a large, Cielian man with fiery red hair and a full beard. “I was not aware that we would be receiving you this evening, otherwise I would have prepared something special for your arrival.”

  “And that is exactly why we did not announce we were coming. Though in truth, I didn’t know myself until yesterday evening,” said Esther, holding out her hand. The man took it firmly in his grip and shook it with gusto.

  “The name is Gunnarr. I’m the mayor of this little town. Never before have we hosted foreign royalty before. To what do we owe the honour?”

  “In truth, Master Gunnarr, I’m originally from a town much like yours and I wanted to spend Christmas Eve someplace that reminded me of home.”

  “Well in that case, welcome! Please, make yourselves at home while I make arrangements with the Innkeeper for a place to stay—”

  “That’s quite alright,” interrupted Esther. “My Guardsman is making arrangements with the Innkeeper as we speak. Please, I don’t want this visit to be intrusive. I didn’t want to pull you away from your celebrations, but I also didn’t want to be rude and visit your lovely village without introducing myself to you. We’re just going to have a quiet meal here at the Inn, and then we will join your villagers at the church later this evening.”

  “Well, thank you, Your Majesty. Would you like me to join you? Perhaps regale you with tales and stories of our small village?”

  “Another time, perhaps, Master Gunnarr. Please, don’t take offense when I tell you to go and return to your family and enjoy this beautiful evening. Perhaps we’ll see you at the church later?”

  “Of course,” the big man said with a smile. “Well, then, Your Majesty, please don’t hesitate to let me know if I may be of service somehow.”

  “Thank you, Master Gunnarr. We will be sure to let you know.”

  With that, the mayor left and the Innkeeper led Esther, Geoffrey, Adeline, Marigold, Mac, Nkiru, Oluchi, Joel, Baird, Dani, and two guards—one marine and one Cielian—to a large table in the back. Everyone nodded respectfully as they passed, calling thanks for the drinks and food. Esther leaned towards the Innkeeper.

  “Good sir, please be sure and prepare a table by the door for my other Guardsmen as well. It would be nice for them to be able to rotate in and out to catch a warm meal.”

  “Y…Yes, Your Majesty,” the Innkeeper stuttered. The poor man seemed incredibly nervous. Esther reached out and touched his arm.

  “Please, sir, I am terribly sorry to disrupt your celebrations this evening. It was not my intent to make you feel uncomfortable. We are just here to enjoy this evening with you all.”

  “Yes’em,” he said. She didn’t know if it had helped, but she hoped that his discomfort had diminished somewhat so that he could still enjoy himself.

  Esther took off her coat and sat. She nibbled at her food and drank—though for her it was just apple nectar. The food was good, and the locals didn’t take long to pretend like they had forgotten that there was royalty among them. The place was soon alive with raucous laughter and the sounds of celebration. It reminded her a lot of being back at the Rosebud Inn, hanging out with her friends Marigold, Charity, and Tanya. For the most part, Esther kept quiet and listened to her friends share tales of Christmas’ past.

  Finally, after what seemed like a short time but must actually have been several hours, Mac turned to her. “If we want to make it to midnight mass, Your Majesty, we should probably head over to the church,” he said.

  Esther looked around and noticed that people were beginning to gather their things and leave the Inn. She turned to him and nodded. Marigold was two sheets to the wind, so Esther asked one of the marine’s to get her back to the carriages and make sure she was comfortable. The rest of her troupe stood, donned their coats, and followed her out of the Inn.

  Esther turned and started walking towards the church. She could have taken the carriages, but the brisk air felt good against her face, and the sound of the snow crunching beneath her Cielian fur boots was pleasant. Plus, the church really wasn’t that far away. However, before she had gone a yard, Geoffrey stepped up next to her and placed a hand on her arm.

  “We should take the carr
iages, Your Majesty. While your wound is healing very well, you still shouldn’t put unnecessary strain on it.”

  She patted his hand. “Thanks Geoffrey, but I really want to walk.”

  “Esther, I—”

  Esther raised her hand, interrupting whatever he was about to say.

  “I understand, Geoffrey.”

  He was clearly not pleased, but just nodded and didn’t press it further. She gave him a brief smile, then turned and continued on towards the church.

  It was a quaint little structure, as most churches in small villages were. In what was loosely defined as Christendom—there wasn’t a central church administration—priests and their wives took a vow of poverty for as long as they served their parishioners, so the funds to build and upkeep churches, cathedrals, temples, and to assist the poor came from the offerings that parishioners gave.

  Churches held no place in politics—there were strict rules about that learned from hard lessons that took place during the time of the Religious Wars—so they couldn’t draw upon the national treasuries. That’s why cathedrals could only be built in the largest cities where there were sufficient numbers of people, and temples tended to be built at the national level since the amount of funds required could be enormous.

  As they stepped through the door into the small church, Esther felt truly at home. A red carpet had been unrolled and led from the door through a small foyer and into the nave of the chapel itself until it reached a small platform with an altar, and behind that, the choir and the apse. A priest dressed in a plain brown robe stood just inside the door of the chapel, greeting everyone who entered, and a choir sang Christmas hymns while an organ played.

  “Your Majesty,” the priest said, taking her lightly by the hand and bowing his head as she entered the nave. “What an honor it is to have you worship with us this evening.”

  “The honor is mine, kind sir,” Esther replied. She walked in and slid into a bench near the front. Adeline slid in next to her, followed by the rest of her entourage.

  The priest led them through communion and the rest of the service was beautiful. It had been everything she had hoped. Next Christmas, perhaps she would attend the service in one of the big Cathedrals in the city, but for this Christmas, it had been just what she needed.

  As they walked out of the church after the service, the priest again shook everyone’s hand and thanked them for coming. When they had gathered outside and made their way back towards the carriages parked in front of the Inn, the same Cielian Guardsman who had been trying to setup accommodations with the innkeeper approached.

  “Your Majesty, should I order the carriage drivers to prepare to head back to Valsgärd?” he asked.

  “No,” she said, trying to stifle a yawn. “I believe it is quite late for that. Would you ask the Innkeeper if there are open stalls in his stable that we could bed down in?”

  The guard just looked at her incredulously. “Um…Your Majesty, I’m sure that the Mayor could arrange for you to stay somewhere—”

  Esther smiled at the man and he stopped talking. “I understand, Mr…?”

  “The name is Leifr, Your Majesty, Sergeant Leifr.”

  “Well, Sergeant Leifr. While I fully appreciate the unusual circumstances, and that I’m placing you in a bit of a predicament, I just wanted to impress upon you that our Lord and Savior was born in a stable—likely one much more poorly supplied and sheltered than this one. If it’s good enough for him, it’s good enough for me—and I refuse to take someone’s bed away from them just so I can lay in one. We have plenty of blankets and a change of clothing in the carriages. So, if you please, go and ask the Innkeeper if he has any room in his stable, and don’t mention that it’s for me. Let him think it’s for you Guardsmen.”

  At first reluctant, Sergeant Leifr just nodded with a smile and headed back towards the Inn.

  Chapter 25

  Timber Mining

  Two weeks later, Esther was again bumping down the road in a carriage with Adeline, Geoffrey, and Marigold, but this time, they were on their way to the lumber mining town of Lugos, further north along the Hrólfr mountain range from Valsgärd. They were going to tour the timber mining facility in the foothills east of the town.

  The week after Christmas had been filled with celebration, food, and relaxation. Esther felt like she had gained ten pounds just within a week. Quite a bit of that was the growth of her babes, and the swell of her lower abdomen was becoming quite noticeable now as her baby bump became a baby belly instead. One very exciting thing had happened during that celebratory week, however. She had felt her babes move for the first time! It had just been a little kick at first, but if she sat still and paid attention, she could feel them every so often. That moment had been amazing! She’d never felt anything like it before.

  Of course, there were downsides to her swelling abdomen as well. She rubbed a salve on her stomach every morning that her midwife, Mrs. Stolman, had given her, but the stretching feeling was still uncomfortable and she found herself unconsciously scratching her stomach more and more often. Only a few of her shalwar kameez still fit and she needed Marigold to modify her others, or make new ones. At least she still fit into her lehenga skirts, which stretched around her ever increasing girth.

  Today, though, she wore a Cielian outfit—a decorative skirt and a turtleneck sweater with a long coat and Cielian fur boots. The turtleneck made her feel even more claustrophobic than she had in a traditional shalwar, but given their destination today, she would try and put up with the discomfort. This pregnancy, and especially having twins, is going to make my life difficult. That was probably an understatement. Because of her injury, she’d had to quit sparring but now felt well enough to practice her sword and dance routines by herself for exercise. In the not too distant future, even that would be difficult and she would probably have to reign herself in though.

  After the New Year, Esther had started to get restless from all of the festivities. She really wanted to begin working on the treaty again, but the Lothaekin’s weren’t scheduled to return until the second week of January, so she had spent quite a bit of her time with Ann-Marie Graves and Gregory, discussing the improvements to the Retribution that she had wanted them to work on and looking over their plans and designs. By the end of that week, however, she was getting a little bit of cabin fever and she needed to get out. Spending that much time with Ann-Marie and Gregory had been nice and thought provoking, but they drove her a little stir-crazy.

  Ambassador Rashad must have sensed her restlessness because the very tall old diplomat had suggested she take an excursion or two into the city of Valsgärd itself. His suggestion had been just what she needed and the trip had been a wonderful experience. It had been amazing how many different cultures were represented here. Ciel was one of the more progressive nations in the North and there were entire sections of the city peopled with every race and creed—even Kamakuran’s. At first, Esther had been surprised by the number of Kamakuran’s here given the animosity she had experienced in Tewksbury that some people had for foreigners. But then she remembered who those people were—people like Janey and Rebecca Payton—and that they were a small minority.

  Visiting Valsgärd had been her first chance to study Kamakuran culture first-hand and so she had spent one whole day in the Kamakuran section of the city. She had gone incognito, dressed in Cielian clothing to avoid any unnecessary attention, and had only taken Oluchi, Sergeant Taavi, and Marigold with her. She had eaten Kamakuran food, talked to vendors about their goods, and even visited a Kamakuran blacksmith. It had been nice to speak in Kamakuran—she hadn’t used it much in the years since her mother had taught her. She was surprised at how fast it had come back to her.

  Esther furrowed her brow. Visiting the Kamakuran blacksmith had been a strange experience—not that Kamakuran blacksmith’s were much different than any other blacksmith’s. No, it was just that this particular blacksmith had acted so strangely toward her from the moment she walked in the door
.

  “Welcome, Doragon no Musume,” he had said, bowing.

  Esther had known her Kamakuran was a bit rusty, but it had sounded like he had said ‘Welcome, daughter of the dragon’.

  “Excuse me?” Esther had asked, confused.

  “I said, ‘Welcome, Doragon no Musume’,” the old man had repeated.

  “I’m sorry,” Esther had said, “I think you must have me confused with someone else.”

  The old man had just smiled, then said, “Watashi wa anata ga daredearu ka o shitte imasu.” Roughly translated, it meant ‘I know who you are, even if you do not’, which made no sense to Esther. The old man had then turned and gone through a door at the back of his shop. Esther had looked at the others, who seemed to be as confused as she—or perhaps even more so since they didn’t have the added bonus of speaking Kamakuran. They had been about to turn and leave when the old man had returned, holding a long object covered by a cloth. He had set it on a workbench and beckoned her over. After looking at the others for support, she had walked over and watched as the man had unwrapped the object. Under the cloth was a daisho, or pair of magnificently crafted swords, one quite a bit longer than the other. They were curved, in the Kamakuran style. The larger one had a long hilt to enable the bearer to grip it with both hands. Having discussed sword crafting with Marigold’s father many times, Esther knew enough to know that this sword was crafted by a Master, evidenced by the alternating layers shown in the blade. Its steel had been folded, and refolded to remove the impurities and increase the strength and durability of the blade, and it was razor sharp. It was called a katana, if she recalled correctly. The smaller sword in the daisho pair appeared to be equally well crafted and was called a wakizashi.