by Peter Kenson
“Oh, Jerry, I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “I wish they’d never found me.”
“But they did. And now you have to go away. But I don’t understand why.”
“Yes you do, Jerry. In your heart you do. You just don’t want to admit it.”
Rachel paused for a moment and pushed him away without letting go of his hands so that they faced each other.
“You made a speech some months ago. A speech that inspired your people and changed their lives for ever. The Lyenar were scattered throughout all the lands and you drew them together and gave them a purpose. You united them in a common goal, to retake their ancestral home. They followed you and they died for you, but in the end, you and they were victorious. You are standing even now in the palace of your fathers, in your own city of Marmoros.
“And that speech you made, changed my life too. We heard of your vision, hundreds of leagues away in Puerto Reis and I came with Josep and Agnes to be a part of that dream. If you hadn’t made that speech, we would never have met and I might never have found my own people.
“But now I have found them or they found me. And they are scattered as a result of a terrible conflict, just as yours were. It is my role now to try to inspire my people, to draw them together and give them a vision of the future. To give them something to work towards, to live for and if necessary, fight for. I don’t know if I can achieve anything as spectacular as you have, my love. But I know that I have to try.
“I love you, Jerry, and it’s tearing me apart. I don’t want to leave you but I have to go and I need you to understand why.”
They clung to each other again until the tears subsided. Jeren smoothed her hair and kissed away the remaining traces of the tears.
“I love you too, Rachel and I am not giving up on us. You may have to go now but that is not the end of it. I don’t care how far away your country is, or how difficult it is to get there, I swear that I will find you and we will be together again.”
Rachel kissed him and then broke free of the embrace. “You would fight my battles for me, my sweet prince?” she teased. “Are you that bloodthirsty?”
“I’m that much in love with you. If I could fight your battles for you then I would. You already know that, so stop teasing me. I just want to see you every day, to talk to you and hold you in my arms.”
She frowned at him. “That last part I can’t manage but I have a gift for you that might help with the other two.”
Rachel reached into a pocket concealed in the skirt of her dress and produced the amulet that David had ripped off the unfortunate captain.
“Where did you get that?” Jeren demanded.
“I begged it from Lord David. Hold still while I fasten it round your neck.”
She clipped it in place and then placed two fingers in the centre of Jeren’s forehead.
“Now, I want you to close your eyes and tell me what you see.”
Jeren obediently closed his eyes and waited for a few seconds. “Nothing,” he said.
“Concentrate, Jerry. Think about me.”
He closed his eyes again and almost immediately an image sprang into view. With a gasp of shock, he stepped back a pace and broke the contact.
“What was it, Jerry? What did you see?”
“I don’t know. It was me, I think. It was like I was looking at myself in a mirror but it didn’t look right.”
“That’s because it wasn’t a reflection. You were seeing yourself through my eyes. Now let’s try something else. Stay right there, close your eyes and don’t move.”
Rachel ran over to the window and looked out across the city,
“Concentrate on me and tell me what you see.”
“I can see the roofs of houses and the city walls behind them. I can see the mountains in the distance beyond the river but I can’t quite see the river itself.”
Rachel turned her head slightly.
“Now I can see the river running down the length of the valley. Am I truly looking through your eyes?”
“Yes, my darling, you are.”
He spun round and stared at her.
“You spoke to me in my head, without actually speaking.”
She turned and smiled at him. “Yes, I can do that too, my love.”
“Can I speak to you like that as well? Can you see what I see?”
“Yes, when our minds are touching but Lord David says that it is a technique that you will have to practice. Until then, I can pick images out of your mind but I won’t know if they’re from the present or something you’re remembering from your past. You will have to learn to concentrate on what you want to show me.”
He pulled her close to him and kissed her. “I will learn, my darling. I promise I will learn. Do you think Lord David will teach me?”
“I’m sure he will. But first I think there are some people we need to see.”
“Hm. I think I may have to spend a bit of time for the next day or so, going round apologising to everybody. And I’d probably better start with mother.”
Falaise frowned at them as they opened the door and walked into her chamber hand in hand.
“Don’t frown, mother. You’ll get wrinkles and then Lord David won’t love you anymore.”
“Jeren!”
“Sorry, mother but if Rachel and I want to hold hands until she has to leave then that’s what we’re going to do.”
Falaise visibly relaxed and smiled at them. “So you’ve sorted things out between you then?”
“Yes we have. Mother, I want to apologise for my behaviour over the last few days.”
“I don’t think it’s me you need to apologise to, Jeren.”
He gave a little laugh. “I think I probably need to apologise to half the people in the palace but I am starting with you because you are not only the queen regent, you are my mother. I love you very much and I am sorry if I have disappointed you these last few days.”
Falaise stepped over and put an arm round him. Then she put the other arm around Rachel and drew them both into a hug.
“You have never disappointed me, my son. And you, Rachel. I had hoped to one day call you daughter.”
“Don’t give up on that thought, mother. I’m just not sure how we’re going to do it yet.”
“What do you mean?” Falaise asked, a note of worry creeping back into her voice.
“No, don’t worry, Lady Falaise,” Rachel said.
“Call me Falaise, please my dear.”
“Falaise then. I don’t want to go any more than Jeren wants me to. But it is my duty and I have to help my people. I know that I have to go. I cannot predict what will happen over the next few months and years but I know that I will never forget either of you. If I can find a way to get back here, then I will. I love Jeren and I love his mother.”
Falaise gave them both another hug. “Come, my dears. It’s time to face the world.”
She led them out through the corridors to an audience chamber where David and the ambassadors were waiting. As they entered, she looked at David and gave a little nod.
Mahagama was wearing an expression of disapproval on his face. “Your majesty, we have been waiting for you.”
Rachel raised an eyebrow and said nothing.
“We have made all the arrangements for your departure, your majesty. We leave first thing in the morning.”
The temperature in the room dropped several degrees as Rachel replied. “I do not remember being consulted about this.”
“There was no time, your majesty. We thought it best to get you away from here as soon as possible.”
“You thought!” Rachel’s voice thundered around the room, amplified by mentally enhanced subsonics. “You forget to whom you are speaking.”
The expression of disapproval was replaced by a look of horror as the three ambassadors dropped to their knees, foreheads touching the floor.
“You do not make decisions on my behalf, ambassador. I will decid
e when we will leave and it most certainly will not be tomorrow morning.”
“But we have made the arrangements, your majesty,” Mahagama said without raising his eyes from the floor.
“Then you can unmake the arrangements again. I will not be leaving here until I have seen Prince Jeren crowned king. That is my decision and you will base any travel arrangements around that. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, your majesty,” the ambassadors chorused in unison.
“Then, gentlemen, you are dismissed. You have arrangements to remake.”
As the door closed behind the ambassadors, David remarked to Falaise. “You know, I think she’s picking up this queen business quite quickly. I was nearly on my knees myself there.”
Rachel rounded on him, eyes still blazing with fury but when she saw the smiles on their faces, she paused for a moment and then burst into laughter.
“Did I overdo it, do you think?”
“My dear,” Falaise replied. “You were absolutely splendid and I am thrilled that you will be here for the coronation.”
***
Preparations for the coronation proceeded rapidly and a lot more smoothly after that. Jeren made his apologies to everybody and then concentrated his efforts on moving the supplies they had found in the tunnels, back into the store rooms. The concealed entrance to the tunnels had been destroyed by the Belsi and he had to organise a permanent guard there until it could be rebuilt. In the meantime, David sent search parties into the tunnels to explore and map the complex and particularly to find any exits to the hills or the quarries.
The farmers outside the valley were happy to be compensated for the supplies that Kraxis had already taken and agreed to sell the remaining surplus that they had hidden away, to the new rulers of Marmoros. Together with the supplies from the tunnels, they now had sufficient food for the winter as well as enough for a grand feast to celebrate the coronation.
The front wall of the palace courtyard was rebuilt and the crater in the centre was filled in. On David’s advice, they left the mangled remains of the tank in the bottom of the crater and simply buried it. However, the damage to the doors and the façade was more extensive and the best they could do in the time available, was to tidy it up.
The problem of where to hold the coronation ceremony was tricky as everyone wanted to be able to see it even if they were not taking actually part themselves. Jeren eventually settled the arguments by ordering a stage to be built in the courtyard, large enough to hold all the participants and high enough for everybody outside the walls to have a view. Naturally, as soon as that was announced, every house and public building with a window or roof space overlooking the stage, was swamped with offers to buy a viewing space.
Jeren put off dealing with Raslo for as long as he could but eventually decided that the situation had to be resolved before the coronation. The audience chamber was packed with every councillor seated beneath his family crest, the wooden panels having been reorganised to everybody’s satisfaction. The lower end of the hall was filled with townspeople who had either witnessed the original incident or were simply curious to see the traitor who had attacked their prince. Jeren and Falaise occupied the two thrones and seats were placed on the dais for David on one side and Rachel and the ambassadors on the other.
There was a gasp from the crowd as Bern led Raslo in, manacled hand and foot. Jeren had ordered that he be provided with washing facilities but he had not made much attempt to clean himself up. His hair was long and greasy and his clothes were little more than filthy rags.
Bardsley was on his feet immediately. “Why has the prisoner been brought before us in this condition?” There were a few murmurs of agreement from the benches.
“My lords, the prisoner is manacled because he is a traitor,” David replied. “As for his appearance, he has been provided with washing facilities. If he has chosen not to make use of them, there is nothing that can be done other than make him stand downwind.”
That drew a few chuckles from the crowd as Bardsley seated himself once more.
Jeren addressed the prisoner. “Raslo, you are the son of a traitor and were banished with him from our lands and from all contact with our people. Why are you here? Why did you come back?”
“To kill you,” Raslo said sullenly. “You are the traitor to our people, not my father.”
“Then you are condemned out of your own mouth. Your associates in this crime are already dead. Varga was killed during the attack and the other two have been hanged. Is there any reason why you should not join them?”
“You would not dare. My father is still a powerful man with many friends. You cannot afford to kill me.”
“That was probably the most stupid thing I think anybody has ever said to me. I was inclined to let you live but, if I do so now, it will be seen as a sign of weakness, that I am afraid of your father.”
Raslo looked puzzled and then started to look worried as the implications of what he had said began to dawn on him. “I didn’t mean…”
“Shut up. Is there anyone here who will speak for this idiot?”
There was no movement on the benches and a deathly silence throughout the hall. Jeren tried again.
“Come my lords, is there no-one here who will speak for him? Lord Bardsley? Lord Grekan?”
Bardsley slowly got to his feet. “The boy is obviously weak in the head, your highness. It would be generous not to take seriously everything the boy said.”
Grekan rose equally unwillingly. “To show clemency in this situation would not necessarily be seen as a sign of weakness, your highness.”
Jeren stood and came slowly down the steps to stand in front of Raslo. “They ask for clemency on your behalf, you wretch. Do you even know what clemency means?”
Raslo started to slide towards the floor until Bern’s meaty hand grabbed his collar and hauled him upright again. Jeren glanced down and gave a short laugh as a damp stain began to spread across the prisoner’s trousers.
“It appears his mind is not the only thing that is weak.”
A ripple of laughter ran round the hall as Jeren went back up the steps to the throne.
“Raslo, son of the traitor Gaelan, this is my judgement. You were banished from these lands along with your father. Yet you came back and, with others who have now paid the ultimate price, you attempted murder. Lord Bardsley has asked me to be generous. Lord Grekan has asked for clemency. Very well, I grant you your life. You will be taken from here and flogged, one dozen lashes, and then you will be thrown out of the valley without weapons, food or boots.
“Captain, turn the prisoner round so that the people can see his face. Look at him, my people. He was banished before as the son of a traitor. He is now banished in his own right as an attempted regicide. If any of you ever see his face again, you have my permission to kill him without recourse to law.
“Now get him out of here and would somebody please mop up that puddle on the floor of the chamber.”
***
The day of the coronation got off to a misty start. Autumn was well advanced now and snow capped many of the surrounding hills although the thermal springs kept the temperature at a comfortable level inside the valley itself. The city was already bustling with activity as many people were up before dawn to prepare for the feast. The fires had been lit the night before and banked down to provide a bed of coals over which to roast the cattle and sheep. The smoke from the roasting pits mingled with the early morning mist and drifted eerily around the roofs of the houses.
Tables and chairs arrived from all directions and were laid in great rows up and down the avenues leading to the palace and spreading into the gardens in-between. Flags and bunting of every colour were strung between the balconies of the houses and the statues and trees in the gardens. To the sides of the palace courtyard, wooden grandstands had been erected and early comers were already squabbling over the best places to view the events of the day.
By mid-
morning, stalls had been set up along the sides of the avenues and sweetmeat and pie sellers were hawking their wares. There were meat pies, fruit pies, savoury and spiced pies; their smells adding to the aroma coming from the roasting pits. And entertainers of every description were there; troubadours, jugglers, tumblers and fire eaters, moving through the crowds and pausing to perform at every sight of an open purse. By Jeren’s decree, all the slaves were given a day’s liberty and they swelled the numbers thronging the area around the palace walls.
Inside the palace, preparations were proceeding apace. Garlands and bouquets of wild flowers arrived throughout the morning and were used to decorate the stage. Flags were hung from every balcony and there was a continual flow of servants through the corridors carrying costumes that required some last minute cleaning or adjustment. The palace kitchens were a hive of furious activity, not only preparing for the royal feast but also dishes to be presented to the people for the communal festivities.
David had ordered the valley gates to be closed for the day and had left only a handful of unhappy men there to guard them. The rest of the soldiers in the company were busy adding the final bits of polish to weapons and armour. They were unrecognisable from the group of fighters he had first encountered in the woods. Armour had been collected in the aftermath of the battles they had fought and had been carefully repaired and restored. With the exception of the red cloaks, they were not uniformly dressed but every man had his own armour and it gleamed in the autumn sun. The red cloaks would provide the honour guard to the king and the rest of the company would parade in front of their new monarch.
When the appointed hour arrived, six trumpeters who had been found amongst the Lyenar families, marched out through the ruined doorway, dressed as heralds and lined the steps to either side. The sound of the trumpets carried over the noise of the crowd and there was a rush towards the courtyard walls from everybody who was not already in a vantage point.
The councillors were the first to emerge from the palace, walking two by two up the ramp leading to the stage. All were dressed in their finest robes, each trying to outdo the others around him. Then the guests were escorted to the platform; the Ystrad ambassadors, Yuris and Yolanthe, Mandal and the city administrators. A position had been reserved for Marta, much to her embarrassment but David had insisted that she be present as an officer of the company and escorted her to the stage himself.