Anton nodded. “Will we stop at the crossroads?”
“We must. I think it’s the first place we can get food. It’s a long walk, but I’m sure we can make it.” She tried to sound more hopeful than she felt. Neither one of them had had much supper the night before, and they hadn’t received breakfast either.
“I think we can do it. But isn’t Trepol closer?”
“Yes, it would take us less than a day. But I don’t know what’s there. It sounds like things are worse in Marjatya now, so I don’t want to go in that direction.”
It soon became clear they would need water before food. The day was hot and the road dusty. There was little traffic. They saw one peddler and one farmer hauling a wagon of hay. Both told Janna to get back to where she came from. “There’s marauders about, and soldiers,” the farmer frowned.
“We have nothing for them to take.”
“Oh yes you do,” the farmer said. “At least stay off the road if you can.”
“We have no food. We need to get to the Sanova crossroads.”
“You’re in a right scrape, aren’t you? I’d give you something to eat, except I don’t have none myself. I’m taking this hay to Count Manek’s estate, in hopes they’ll trade me some.”
“Do you think they’d help us there? We’ll work for a bit to eat.”
“They won’t help you, at least not at a price you’d be willing to pay. In fact, if I were you, I’d go nowhere near that place. Every father who knows what’s what keeps his daughters well away from the count, and his son’s even worse.”
Janna felt even more hopeless by the time the farmer left them. At least he gave them directions to an abandoned farm nearby that still had a good well. They drank their fill and tried to rest through the worst heat of the day. Janna hoped they’d be able to keep walking after dark. The moon was near full, and with the road so empty, perhaps no one would bother them.
It got cooler after dark, but the hunger and thirst were much worse now. With no landmarks and no one to ask, Janna did not know how far they still had to go. The moon was bright, and it was possible to see far ahead on the road. So they had plenty of warning when they noticed the soldiers.
The soldiers saw them, too. Janna pulled Anton off the road and into a stand of trees as fast as she could, but the men were on horseback, and were upon them before they could hide.
“Don’t fight,” she whispered to Anton the moment she knew they couldn’t escape. “They’ll just hurt you and it won’t do any good.”
“I have to do something,” he whispered back fiercely.
“We’ll both do what we must to stay alive. Let’s do it for Papa, hm?”
A man jumped off a large horse, strode to where Janna stood in the brush and grabbed her by the arm. “Someone get the boy,” he said, as he yanked her toward the road.
Another man picked Anton up and carried him toward the horses. Anton struggled, but he was too small. The man just laughed and threw him on the ground, then held him there, a boot planted on his back.
“Please let him go. He’s just a little boy.” To her surprise, her voice didn’t shake. Perhaps she’d gotten stronger. Still, not strong enough for this.
“We noticed,” one man laughed. “I’m sure we can find a use for him.”
“Just don’t hurt him, please. I’ll do whatever you want.”
Several men laughed at that, and one said. “Oh, you’ll do whatever we want anyway. You’re not in a good place to make a deal, girl.”
“I have nothing,” Janna said. “Not even food.”
“Got thrown out, did you?” Someone laughed. “The wife likely found out the little maid isn’t as innocent as she looks.”
Janna gritted her teeth and said nothing. A few ribald jokes were the least of her worries.
“Looks like you’re in need of a new position. Till then, though, I’d say you’re available for sampling,” another fellow put in. By now, they were crowding her. Several were still mounted, and the horses were uncomfortably close, stomping and snorting hot breath into her face.
“I’m a respectable woman.” Her voice shook now. “My son and I must get to Kaleva. If you were gentlemen, you wouldn’t cause us trouble on the way.”
There was laughter. “Never claimed to be gentlemen,” one man said. “Though I’ve been called worse. Anyway, I’ve had enough of this refined chit-chat. I don’t know about you boys, but I ain’t seen a wench this pretty in weeks, and I for one intend to enjoy myself.”
Janna jumped back, but hands grabbed her on either side. Anton was still on the ground and she couldn’t see his face. She hoped he’d have the sense to look away. “Not in front of my son, at least.” Tears slid down her face. They had taken surprisingly long to come.
“For someone in such a bad place, you sure have a lot of demands,” one of the men holding her said. She cringed away from his sour breath, and he laughed into her face. “No matter, you won’t be near so picky once we’re through with you.”
Panic-stricken, she tried to count them. Not even a dozen. Maybe eight. The blood roared in her ears. What did it matter how many? She doubted she could survive it. They probably wouldn’t let her.
She prayed. First to the Mother, to save her life and to give these men pause, and perhaps some compassion. Then to Ercos, for strength to endure it. That didn’t seem forthcoming as her legs turned to water when a man dragged her to the side of the road.
He threw her down hard, and stars flashed before her eyes as her head bounced off the ground. She rolled to her side, and tried to crawl away, but a boot landed in her stomach, and the breath whooshed out of her chest. She opened her eyes, saw nothing but black, so she squeezed them shut again, and prayed Anton had done the same.
Kendryk
Teodora threw off the guard and turned her skittish horse to face Kendryk. Her breath came hard and her face was aflame.
Kendryk stopped his horse and looked straight at her. When she seemed to have mastered herself, he asked. “May I speak, Your Highness?”
“That’s more like it,” she muttered under her breath.
Kendryk reminded himself that most people deferred to her, and his typical haughty manner might have added to her rage.
He waited until she said, “You may speak. Just don’t forget who I am, and who you are.”
He attempted to look contrite. “Of course. And I apologize if gave offense.” He didn’t mind giving ground if it ended with him getting what he wanted.
“Oh for gods’ sake. Stop looking at me like that and say what you must.”
“Thank you, Your Highness. I know you don’t trust me, but I am not trying to make things difficult for you. I wish to bring this trial to a speedy and peaceful conclusion so you can be on your way. You have much to worry about, and I do not wish to take advantage of that.”
“Then you’d be the first,” Teodora grumbled. “And you’re right; I don’t trust you.”
“Can you at least believe that I don’t wish for violence on the streets of Kronfels?”
“Oh, I believe that. You Kronlanders are far too enamored of your precious citizens. You seem to forget they are also subjects, and they are mine as well as yours.”
This wasn’t quite true, but Kendryk decided not to press the issue. “Then you agree that bloodshed before the trial does not help you. Most of Kronland still believes you are acting in good faith and wish for Father Landrus to receive a fair hearing.”
Teodora snorted, but Kendryk continued. “You may not feel that way, but it’s what most assume, and you can’t deny it works to your benefit.”
He waited for her agreement and got another snort.
“Even if Father Landrus speaks, I’m sure you’ll get the verdict you want.” He hoped the heaviness in his heart didn’t show in his voice and he averted his eyes, knowing he couldn’t conceal it there. “That alone will make many unhappy. But if he can speak, no one will accuse you of being the least bit unfair. In fact, you’ll be able to say wit
h complete justification that you went far above and beyond what everyone expected.”
“I’m not required to do any of this,” Teodora spat. Her eyes were sparking again and her guards looked alarmed.
Kendryk backed away a little and noticed Merton moving closer.
Teodora pulled herself together with visible effort. “Still, I’d rather have this conversation over with soon.” She took a deep breath. “You want Landrus to speak. I will allow it. But I have a condition.”
Kendryk waited, too worried about what she wanted to feel any real hope.
“I want twenty thousand Terragand troops delivered after the trial. I will renew the Zastwar treaty somehow, but then I must deal with Andor Korma.”
Kendryk stared at her. “Our troops aren’t to be used against threats within the empire.” And twenty thousand was double Terragand’s usual obligation.
“I don’t care. I need them to fight Korma, and if you want your priest to have his say, you’ll swear right here and now that I shall have them.”
Sweat prickled on Kendryk’s scalp while a frozen knot grew in his middle. This violated his charter, and Teodora knew it. “I can’t make that decision here and now.” From her triumphant expression, it was clear she knew she had him. “This is a serious matter, and I must consult my advisers …”
“You know what they’d say,” Teodora snapped. “That’s why you must promise me right now.”
“Then my answer is no.” Kendryk told himself that Landrus speaking made no difference to the outcome of the trial. “If I must decide right now, I choose not to violate my charter and the law of the empire.” He emphasized the last words. “Father Landrus won’t speak. And since you expect to renew the treaty with Zastwar, I’ll assume you won’t need my troops for some time.”
The look on her face made it clear she hadn’t expected this. Did she think him so in the thrall of Landrus that he would violate the law to help him? “Very well,” she said, turning her horse in his direction.
Kendryk backed up and turned around to fall in next to her. He was glad to have a moment to compose himself. He wondered if he’d been too rash in upholding the letter of the law, sealing his friend’s fate.
Teodora pulled up as she drew level with him. “Listen carefully, little prince. You are toying with treason right now.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but she continued. “Oh and stop going on about your precious charter. It’s outdated and no longer fits the empire’s needs. Be assured I will revisit all the charters, and yours first of all.”
She looked straight at him and he forced himself to meet her gaze, aware of the color creeping up his face. By now his shirt was soaked with sweat under the armor.
“I will be clear, and I want you to remember what I say.” Her voice was low but oozed menace.
Kendryk was conscious of Merton drawing closer and felt a bit comforted.
“When this trial is over, and your darling priest a mere bit of crispy meat on that stake, I shall return to Atlona and defeat Andor Korma. I will have the Zastwar treaty renewed and my armies recalled from their border. Then I will take back what my weak ancestors gave away too freely. I will start with you.”
“Kronland and all of its states belong to the empire. Terragand is not an independent kingdom, and no more special than Moralta or Marjatya. You are not and never will be my equal. It may take time to bring you lot to heel, but I will and Terragand will be first on my list. If you give me any trouble at all, I will crush you like I did Moralta, and I will do it gladly. In fact, given what you’ve already cost me, I’m inclined to crush you anyway.”
In the back of Kendryk’s mind, he knew that much of this was bombast. Teodora’s power in Kronland derived from the pleasure of the aristocracy and it would take more than threats to alter that. That didn’t change the fact that she was in front of him, her eyes blazing hatred.
His mouth was dry, but he forced the words out. “Your Highness, I am not your enemy. Until you make the reforms you wish for, we are both bound by the law as it stands. You can’t fault me for not wishing to be in rebellion against the laws you yourself swore to uphold at your coronation.”
Her lips trembled, and a vein throbbed in her temple. “Never. Ever. Lecture me again,” she forced out, then spurred her horse violently and disappeared down the forest path.
Braeden
On the day of the verdict, Flavia decreed that the temple would not be open to spectators. Clergy, any rulers present and members of the imperial council could attend. This didn’t stop an enormous crowd from gathering in the temple square and spilling into the streets.
Braeden and the hussars got Teodora’s carriage into the city, through the crowded streets, and into the temple in time. Conditions on the way back were sure to be worse, especially if there was a guilty verdict.
The large temple seemed sinister and empty. Without the press of bodies, words echoed off the stone archways and sometimes it was hard to make them out.
Landrus, calm as always, sat in his docket. Kendryk looked pale and tired, and for the first time, Princess Gwynneth’s cheeks were colorless.
Flavia Maxima stepped up to the podium, then asked Landrus to stand. “I have heard all of the evidence, as has everyone else present. As a person, I cannot find great fault with the character of Edric Landrus. No one who knows him can dislike him. And yet, the Faith has nothing to do with popularity. It is concerned solely with the truth and the worship of the Holy Family. The Imperata is the final word in this.
“The Temple gave Edric Landrus an unusual opportunity, then placed its trust in his discretion and his willingness to be guided by his superiors. He broke that trust. He didn’t work within our traditions to make his views known. Though some of you might disagree, the Faith is not static. Our Imperata and her scholars work always to understand the Scrolls, interpret dreams and spend hours in prayers seeking further enlightenment.
“Edric Landrus sought to work outside our order, an order which nurtured him and gave him great authority. As he has misused that authority, I hereby strip him of his position as priest and scholar of the Temple.” She paused while a murmur swept through the temple. If this was the full punishment, it was a light one.
Braeden watched Prince Kendryk. His eyes had lit up in his pale face, and he squeezed his wife’s hand.
Flavia cleared her throat and silence fell once more. “Edric Landrus’s behavior as a Temple official is the smaller issue here. Far more serious are the charges of heresy. While his words might seem reasonable to many of you, they are not part of the Faith. Even worse, many of them contradict the Faith outright. And in that matter, I have no choice but to find Edric Landrus guilty of heresy.”
There was an uproar among the Kronlanders and their retinues. Prince Kendryk’s face remained white and set.
Flavia raised her hand. “However, this trial has been irregular from the beginning. In most cases, a verdict of heresy carries an automatic death sentence. Due to unusual circumstances, I wish to offer the guilty party a choice.” She turned to face Landrus, who still betrayed no emotion. Braeden wondered if he’d consider a military career, now he could no longer preach. He’d never seen a cooler head.
“I wish to offer you the chance to confess your heresy and admit your guilt. In exchange, I will commute your death sentence to exile. You would be required to live outside the empire, though I’m sure you could find patrons elsewhere. And you must swear never to set foot in it again, nor publish your teachings so they could be in any way disseminated within your lifetime. I will give you a day to consider this offer if you wish.”
The effect of her words was extraordinary. No one had expected this development. Teodora started out of her chair, then sat back down again. No doubt she wanted to protest, but she must have realized that would have been a mistake. Flavia had just given her the gift of potential reconciliation with Terragand and Kronland.
Kendryk’s eyes were full of hopeful light and fixed on Landrus.<
br />
After a few moments of excited buzzing, Landrus raised his voice. “I thank you, Flavia Maxima,” he said, his tone humble, but his demeanor unruffled as always. “I am aware of the special treatment you have just given me and am honored.” The crowd was silent.
“However,” he said, “I cannot accept your kind offer. It is impossible for me to confess to something I know is false. I am not a heretic, and this trial has shown me I am not alone in my beliefs. The gods sent me here for a reason, and I cannot carry out my mission outside this empire. For the empire in particular needs my help.”
“Enough!” Flavia snapped. “So you will not confess and agree to exile?”
“I will not,” Landrus said, then bowed his head.
“In that case.” She raised her voice over the growing pandemonium, “I sentence you to death by burning, to be carried out in this temple square three days hence.”
Teodora rose.
“Your Holiness,” she said, her voice low but carrying. “I would like to propose an alternative. It will have greater impact empire-wide if the execution takes place in Atlona. I will bear sole responsibility for the prisoner’s security until that time.”
Flavia looked at her, then looked at the temple doors, which now opened onto the square. News of the verdict had gone out already and the mood of the crowd was ugly. If the woman had any sense, she’d take Teodora’s offer. The last thing she needed was the public execution of a popular rabble-rouser on her front door, especially while so many rulers were still present. She’d clearly sought to avoid that in the first place by giving Landrus a way out.
She looked back at Teodora. “That is an excellent idea, Your Highness, so long as Princess Kasbirk is agreeable?”
The princess was agreeable and plainly relieved to have the troublesome fellow offer her hands.
Prince Kendryk had gone from looking stricken, to hopeful again. Landrus was receiving another stay of sorts. It was a long journey to Atlona, and much could happen on the way.
The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3 Page 18