by Duncan Lay
She did not want to see any of that. She knew this was a poor outcome for her people and her country. But it was better than their deaths. Her sacrifice would give them their lives and end their anger against her in one stroke. And also, when she was gone, all the mutterers and merchants of doom would realise how good life under her rule had been and those who had wanted Gello back would regret their words.
Brother Onzalez could feel something was wrong. Everything was going to plan—the Aroaril-lovers were at his mercy. All that remained was the final assault, and he would be the ruler of two countries. He would let Markuz and Gello sit on the thrones, as his puppets, but he would be the true power.
But still, something niggled at him, a sense of events happening beyond his control.
‘Bring me a horse and get the commander of the cavalry. I want to see what is happening at the Norstaline capital,’ he ordered Markuz.
‘But Brother, we shall be there by nightfall as it is,’ Markuz pointed out.
‘I need to be there now,’ Onzalez declared.
Merren rode straight to the palace, where she knew everyone was waiting to hear what Gello had said. As she rode through the streets, some waved and cheered at her—but many just stared, obviously wondering what would happen to them. She felt the weight of their silent accusations.
As soon as she was back at the palace, she turned to Jaret and Wilsen. ‘I want Romon and every bard in the capital here, now!’ she ordered and, when they hurried to obey, she strode up to the throne room, trying to get there before Martil asked any questions. But he was too quick.
‘Merren, what is your plan?’ he asked, catching her arm, so she had to face him.
‘I don’t have one,’ she admitted. ‘I shall put Gello’s offer to the people. They are angry with me anyway, many are saying Gello should have stayed. But if I can buy their lives with mine, then I have done my duty.’
‘No!’ he cried.
‘Yes,’ she told him, holding his face in her hands.
‘I can’t let you do this! I can’t live with myself knowing that you died for me, that you and our child were killed by Gello!’
‘Karia,’ she said. ‘You have to live for Karia. You cannot leave her.’
‘But you, the baby…’ Martil grabbed her in his arms. ‘I can’t let you do it!’
‘Pilleth,’ she told him gently. ‘You were ready to sacrifice yourself to save me and everyone else. How can you do the heroic, noble thing and forbid me to do the same?’
‘That’s different…’ he argued.
She pulled his face down to hers and kissed him, hard. ‘No, it’s not.’
Inside it felt like she was tearing in two. She was dooming herself and her child. But it was the only way to make it up to the people after bringing them to this point. The ruler bore the ultimate responsibility for what happened to their country. That was what she had been taught and what she believed.
‘How can I go on without you?’ he protested.
‘By living a good life. By looking after Karia. There were never any guarantees we would be together anyway.’
‘No. We were meant to be,’ he told her, holding her close. He could not let her go, would not let her go. There was no way he would let her die for him.
She kissed him back, then forced herself to break away.
He stepped forwards and reached for her again, but she slapped him across the face, lightly.
‘Don’t make this even harder than it is. I don’t know if I have the courage to go through with it anyway,’ she said softly, trying to hold back the tears she could feel fighting to spill out.
‘Don’t do this! Please, I love you,’ Martil appealed desperately.
‘And I love you,’ she admitted. ‘But love is not enough to stop me. I have to be a queen first.’ She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. ‘We have to go and tell the others, and put Gello’s offer to the people. If you truly love me, then you will follow me now.’
Martil groaned, feeling torn apart by what she was asking.
‘If you love me, do this for me,’ she said softly, kissing him once more. Inside, she was at war. Everything her father had told her, everything she had learned about the throne, said this was the right course of action. But she wanted to live! She wanted to see her child, wanted to be with Martil…
‘Now! We have to go now!’ she almost shouted, as much at herself as at him.
Everyone sat, stunned, when she had finished outlining Gello’s offer.
‘We cannot trust him. He has betrayed his country, now he is ready to betray his allies! He has no honour,’ Barrett said immediately.
‘Barrett is right,’ Martil agreed, amazed he could say that.
‘I will never live under Gello. Never! After what he did to my daughter, I shall not rest until he is dead!’ Sendric vowed.
‘I will never live under Gello,’ Kettering agreed harshly. ‘I would rather die.’
Others around the table nodded in agreement.
‘Does he intend to banish Bishop Milly, myself and the rest of the priesthood that is loyal to Aroaril? You cannot have worship of Aroaril and Zorva side by side in the one country. One or the other must triumph,’ Nott warned.
‘Nevertheless, we must ask the men if they will swear loyalty to Gello. They shall make the decision, once they know everyone’s lives depend on it,’ Merren said heavily.
‘And he will let us walk away?’ Kay said doubtfully. ‘After what happened at Pilleth?’
‘He needs our soldiers to defeat the Berellians and Tenochs. He does not have enough men to fight a battle and betray us by attacking you,’ Merren said with a confidence she did not entirely feel.
‘There has to be more to it than this. I cannot believe he will let us all just walk away,’ Sendric said.
‘You are correct,’ Merren agreed. ‘The final condition is I must die so you can live.’
‘No!’ Barrett gasped.
‘We shall all live in shame, if we let the Queen die to save our own necks.’ Conal thumped the table with his one fist. ‘Better to die ourselves!’
It took all her years of training for Merren not to lose control as they shouted agreement.
‘Stop! Enough!’ she forced herself to cry, and they finally fell silent.
‘I know what you are saying but you all swore to obey me. I will hold you to those oaths. It was my choices that brought us to this point. It is up to me to save as many of those people out there as I can.’
‘What about the Derthals? We could send birds north, see where they are,’ Martil interjected. ‘There might be time for them to arrive before the Berellians and Tenochs get here!’
‘I have been trying to send them—but the Berellian wizards have been blocking us. They have hundreds of birds of prey circling around us—I cannot get anything through,’ Barrett admitted.
‘What about the dragon? A few eagles aren’t going to bother a bloody great dragon!’ Conal snorted.
‘We cannot send the dragon. Havell and Argurium refuse to leave Martil’s side with our enemies so close,’ Merren sighed.
‘And I am not leaving Merren,’ Martil growled.
‘Archbishop Nott—what can you tell us?’ Sendric turned to their last hope.
Nott shrugged. ‘The last communication I had from Father Quiller was they were forty miles north of here. They would have to run through the day and night to get here, not stopping to sleep or eat. No man could do that. Surely Derthals could not either. They will not arrive before late tomorrow, at the earliest.’
‘Has Aroaril told you what to do, can you offer us any guidance?’ Martil begged.
Nott shook his head sadly. ‘I must face the Fearpriest. One of us must die. Beyond that I cannot say.’
‘We can send riders,’ Merren offered. ‘But meanwhile, Romon, I want you and the bards to put Gello’s offer to the soldiers. We only have two turns of the hourglass. If we are to do this, it must be done before any Berellians or Tenochs reach the capital. And I ca
nnot talk about it any more. Everyone seems to accept it when a man is prepared to sacrifice himself to save others. The sagas are full of such stories. This is no different. I know what the people are saying, what the results of the surveys have said, that they think Gello should never have left. I have to do this for them. For now, I need to be alone.’
She stood and walked out, keeping her face impassive until she was safely out of the throne room. I don’t want to do this, but I have to. Why can’t they see that? Why are they making it even more painful for me?
‘We cannot let this happen,’ Martil said, as everyone sat in silence.
‘It’s a shame Lahra isn’t still around—perhaps we could have swapped her for Merren and fooled Gello that way,’ Conal tried to joke.
Martil looked at him. At another time he might have appreciated the gesture but he was in no mood for jokes. He would not let Merren die.
‘I shall send birds. As many as I can find,’ Barrett vowed. ‘We shall redouble our efforts, send so many that they cannot stop them all.’
‘Well, I know this: I shall save Merren, no matter what. She thinks the people do not want her—well, we must show her they would rather die with heads held high than live in shame! The rest of us need to get out there, speak to everyone we can. She thinks everyone blames her for what has happened. We must show her what she means to the people!’ Martil stood. ‘If this Sword has any magic in it at all, not one person in this city will want to be a part of Gello’s treachery!’
Merren lay on her bed, trying not to think, trying to relax. She had shut the curtains, hoping this would shut out what awaited her. If she thought about death, about the child she was also condemning, she was afraid she would not go through with it. Asking Gello for her child’s life was also pointless. Her son would be the rightful heir to the throne and a deadly rival to Gello. Even promising that he would be raised in secret, told nothing of his birthright, would not be enough to save his life. No, they both had to die. There was no other way. The burden of all the other lives on her shoulders was too much. At least then she would be free, at peace.
The problem was, as much as she told herself that, she was still afraid, and sick to the stomach.
A knock on the door made her sit up, heart pounding.
‘My Queen, may I come in?’ she heard Martil call.
More than anything, she wanted to feel his arms around her. She was afraid that if she let him inside her bedroom, she would not be able to control herself.
‘Merren, I have a message from the people.’ Martil tapped on the door.
Reluctantly, she got to her feet and opened the door. Martil stood at the front, with Karia, Barrett, Sendric, Conal, Louise, Gia and Archbishop Nott.
‘What is it?’ she asked, her heart pounding.
‘I have to show you,’ he stated, walking into her room and across to the wide windows.
‘What is it? Tell me!’ she demanded.
Martil ignored her, instead signalling to Barrett and Conal. The three of them pulled back the curtains.
‘Out here, my Queen.’ He held out his hand, while opening the door onto her balcony.
Almost in a daze, she took his hand and followed him out onto the balcony.
And gasped.
Thousands upon thousands of people were packed into the square below. More still packed the streets leading to the square. Children were carried on parents’ shoulders, people sat in the trees, stood shoulder to shoulder, filled the windows of every building that looked onto the square. More than the population of the capital, it seemed like every Norstaline was there, standing, waiting, in silence.
‘Barrett?’ Martil said softly, and the wizard nodded.
‘Do you want Gello as your ruler?’ Martil shouted, his voice magically echoing out across the silent square.
‘No!’ The answering roar shook the windows.
‘Who do you want?’
‘The Queen!’ Their bellow would have startled every bird in the capital, if Barrett, Karia and the other wizards had not sent them north to look for the Derthals.
‘Mer-ren! Mer-ren!’ The chant began at the back of the square, spread rapidly and then boomed across the city.
‘My Queen, you have your answer,’ Martil said into her ear.
Merren just stared down at them, tears trickling down her cheeks. She vividly remembered how she had felt, during those dark days when she had been a prisoner of Gello’s in this palace. Many was the time when she had stepped onto a balcony and looked across the square, hoping to see some sign of protest, some indication that the people missed her rule.
More recently, she had read the reports that said people were muttering about how good life had been under Gello—and had felt sick.
This made up for all those times—and more.
Relief swamped her as well. She would not have to die to save them. But then pragmatism raised its head. This was only a temporary respite for her, for all of them.
‘What will happen to them? Do they truly know what they have just spurned?’ she asked.
‘They know. And whatever happens, we shall all face it together.’
She wiped her face. ‘Then let us tell my cousin that.’
‘What is that noise?’ Gello asked as he sat in the shade of his tent, enjoying a glass of wine. It had not been properly cooled but it was a fine vintage. Besides, he had to have something to toast his triumph. Merren’s followers would agree to his plan and he would become the ruler of the two most powerful countries in one stroke—and get to enjoy his revenge at the same time. It was a heady thought. But as he tried to explain this to Mother, he kept getting disturbed by some sort of noise coming from outside. He ordered Feld to find out what it was.
The captain was gone for a short while before he returned, looking concerned. ‘I think they are chanting the name of your cousin, sire,’ he said nervously.
‘What?’ Wine forgotten, Gello rushed out to listen for himself.
‘Mer-ren! Mer-ren!’ The noise could be heard clearly even at Gello’s camp, half a mile from the city. The chant did not stop, just kept echoing across the grasslands. He was amazed he had not recognised it earlier. Then it changed: ‘Down with Gello!’ ’Kill the traitor!’
‘What does it mean, sire?’ Feld asked.
‘It means,’ Gello said bitterly, ‘that my bitch of a cousin would rather see this country ruled by Berellians than by me. Well, she’s going to pay! They’re all going to pay for this!’
‘And what of the Berellians and Tenochs sire? How shall we defeat them now?’ Feld asked, aghast.
Gello looked back at the camp. ‘Merren obviously has the people ready to fight for her. They will be destroyed, but they’ll take plenty of us with them, if we let them. So we need to stay back during the fighting. The Tenochs and Berellians must do the dying—the more the better. We’ll tell them cavalry is no good for attacking walls.’
‘So it will be an assault, sire? We won’t try to starve them out?’
‘I doubt that. The city has those underground springs. And they have enough wizards to keep the people alive by growing food. Besides, how will we feed more than twenty-five thousand men? It has to be quick.’
‘Sire! There’s a group coming from the city!’ Feld pointed.
Sure enough, the gates were open and a much bigger group was riding out this time, albeit under a flag of truce.
‘Get my horse. I’m going to remind that bitch of what she will face,’ Gello ordered.
But before his horse and a squad of men could be brought up, another cry came from the camp.
‘What is it now?’ Gello asked impatiently.
‘Berellian cavalry, sire, with Brother Onzalez!’ Feld pointed.
Gello felt a flicker of fear. Did the Fearpriest know what he had been planning to do? His scouts had said the Berellians army would not arrive here until the next day!
‘Do you think he knows?’ he hissed to Prent, who had left the tent and joined him.
; ‘I cannot say, sire,’ Prent said carefully. ‘But I would suggest acting as if nothing has happened.’
Gello nodded. ‘We must meet him first. Otherwise my bitch of a cousin will start blurting out details of my plan in an attempt to drive a wedge between me and my allies.’
But Onzalez ignored the riders Gello sent over, instead bringing a squadron of Berellians across to where Merren sat under a flag of truce, surrounded by two full companies, while hundreds of archers on the walls behind her had arrows on their strings.
Gello cursed, gnawing nervously at his lip. What would Mother have done in this situation, he thought. Just lie. Pretend it never happened.
The three groups drew close together, then rode forwards slowly, until they were only a few yards away.
‘Who is the Fearpriest, Gello? Did you not think one was enough?’ Merren called.
Gello smiled wolfishly at her. ‘This is Brother Onzalez. The man who wants the privilege of sacrificing you to Zorva. He will be the last sight you will ever see.’
Merren ignored most of Gello’s words, instead studying the Fearpriest. He sat astride his horse quietly enough but there was a brooding menace about him. Not being able to see his face was both infuriating and a little frightening.
‘Have you come to surrender, and agree to convert to Zorva, as I ordered?’ Gello shouted loudly, half an eye on Onzalez.
Merren looked at them both. ‘Do you mean your offer to give up my life in exchange for helping you betray the Berellians and destroy your allies?’
But Gello had expected this and his laugh did not sound forced.
‘A nice try. But I am afraid Brother Onzalez can tell when someone is lying—and your clumsy attempt to break our alliance is doomed to failure.’
‘No, it is you who is doomed. Not one person in this city wants you as their King. They will resist you to their last breath!’ Merren told him.