Kore's Field

by N. C. Sellars

  Aveline and her children were the last to arrive. I waited until the king and queen had spoken to them before I made my way toward Aveline. She looked absolutely exhausted, and underneath her flawless veneer I could see that she was a woman just like me, only she had just lost the most important person in her life. After all, Adam could have easily been the one killed in the hunt instead of Syrano. She sat in a carved wooden chair before the empty fireplace, staring into the dark space where the flames should’ve been. I approached quietly, wringing my hands and unsure how to begin.

  “Princess Aveline?” I said. When she didn’t answer I took a step closer and dropped my voice. “I want you to know…I am truly sorry for what happened to your husband. I know nothing I say will do anything to help, but if there is any assistance I can provide you or your family, please know that I am at your service.”

  Still, she never moved. I watched her profile—so perfect it could have been minted on a coin—and started to turn away. Just in time I remembered to curtsey, hoping to please her. Something about it must have caught her attention, because she rose gracefully from her chair.

  “Pretty words,” she said, with a wintry smile. “You are a poet and a sage, Alcestis.”

  I faltered. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “You’re a poet because you always manage to construct your phrases in a way that falls pleasingly into people’s ears. And you’re a sage because you speak the truth, sometimes more accurately than you realize.” Her lovely eyes narrowed. “It’s quite true that you should be at my family’s service. In fact, most of the servants in this palace are of higher birth than you. Perhaps you should serve them as well. Only, they probably won’t want you touching their shoes with your dirty Myrillan hands.”

  I said nothing. My heart pounded in my throat and my fingers turned numb. I was only vaguely aware that everyone else in the gallery had fallen silent and was watching our conversation with horrid fascination.

  “I’m sorry, Aveline…” I started, flinching as she took a step closer to me. The emeralds and sapphires gleaming from her fingers and neck looked more like tools for torture than objects of beauty.

  “You have much to be sorry for. You are the very picture of injustice. It is new proof that the gods’ cruelty knows no bounds,” she said with cool precision, “that my husband lies cold on that slab while yours will sleep next to you tonight. You,” she spat, “a filthy farmer’s daughter who has the nerve to call herself a queen.”

  A split second of silence followed. I felt as though she had slapped me; I even lifted my hand to my cheek, expecting to feel her blazing fingerprints on my skin. But she hadn’t moved. From somewhere beside me I felt Adam’s arm encircle my waist, attempting to pull me away. In spite of my stubborn feet I somehow obeyed his entreaties and allowed him to guide me to a chair. Once I was settled he turned abruptly to face Aveline, his mouth already open and loaded with a livid retort, but his father stepped in front of him.

  “Not now,” King Verian murmured. “The children are present.”

  Adam’s voice shook with rage. “But—Father, she can’t—she can’t speak to my wife that way—”

  “I’m as angry as you, about all of it,” said his father, and I was horrified to see tears welling in his eyes. “But this is not the place for angry words.” He looked past Adam’s shoulder at me. “Queen Alcestis, I believe your husband is in need of fresh air. Would you kindly escort him to the courtyard?”

  I nodded, not daring to speak. I pushed myself out of the chair and lightly touched Adam’s arm. To my surprise he needed no coaxing; he thrust open the gallery door and pulled me into the corridor behind him. Servants leapt out of his way as he thundered toward the rear doors, towing me along. I glanced back in the direction of the central courtyard, our supposed destination. “Adam, where are we going?”

  He ordered two very alarmed servants to open the heavy doors. “You’ll see in a moment,” he said, not looking at me.

  Outside, the air felt unusually frigid. I wrapped my arms around myself, wondering if I was shivering from the temperature or the encounter inside. Adam kept up his relentless pace as he led me through the park and down to the river where a little boat floated beside the royal barge, tethered to the mammoth dock. When I realized he intended for us to take a journey in this strange watercraft I wrenched my arm from his grip.

  “What are you doing?” I demanded. “I’m not getting in there.”

  “Get in the boat, Alyce. Please.”

  “I won’t!” My voice trembled. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

  He was immovable. “You’re being ridiculous. It’s perfectly safe.”

  “I don’t care how safe the boat is, it’s you I’m worried about.” I took a step back. “I don’t like this, Adam. You’re frightening me.”

  Finally he stopped pawing the ground like a nervous stallion. He rubbed his eyes as the boat knocked gently against the dock. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “That isn’t my intent, Alyce, I swear it. If you will please come with me, I’d like to show you something. It’s not far up the river, but it’s on the other side. We have no choice but to take a boat.”

  I watched him, unsure, but I put my hand in his and allowed him to help me into the boat. It wobbled on my entry and I perched on the narrow seat, hugging my knees to keep warm. Before he untied the rope and joined me, Adam removed his cloak and draped it around my shoulders. When I asked him if he wouldn’t be cold, he shook his head.

  “I’ll keep warm, don’t worry,” he said, picking up the oars.

  This boat was vastly different from the pleasure barge, obviously. Here I was only inches above the water, and if I had liked I could have plunged my whole arm into the icy depths, not just the tips of my fingers. We skimmed the water close to the bank, close enough for me to spot several heron nests hidden amongst the tangled reeds. Adam rowed with veteran skill, perfectly slicing the oars through the icy water in almost lyrical rhythm. I wanted to enjoy it, to revel in its distraction, but I was too concerned about my husband. We didn’t speak; the only sound was of him pulling fiercely at the oars, accompanied by the birds overhead.

  The landscape opened into lush pastureland, and it wasn’t long before Adam steered us to a low inlet in the bank and leapt ashore. I held the oars while he dragged the front of the boat onto the mud and lashed it to a sapling. He took my hands and pulled me up, keeping the boat steady with his foot as I stepped onto the bank. On that side of the river it felt strangely warm, and the sweet smell of hay filled the air. In spite of the mild breeze a chill raced down my spine. I gazed out at the green fields, sprinkled through with laurel trees, and frowned. To my eyes it appeared simple enough, but the stirring in my heart told me otherwise. Never before had I stood in such an odd place. It held secrets, I could tell instantly. The very air was charged with mystery. Wildly, I found myself thinking of the temple at home, with its blood and stone and pictures. Except this field came without the security of walls. I felt small, exposed, just as I had during the Blooding.

  My breath quickened and I nearly took a half step back, toward the safety of the boat, but Adam had started walking out into the field. I desperately wanted to leave, even the wind seemed feral in this place, but I gathered what little courage I had left and followed after him. My reticence grew when I fell in step beside him and felt no comfort. He was so lost in thought I might as well not have come at all; he didn’t need me here.

  When we reached one of the laurel trees I could bear it no longer. “What is this place?” I asked, not daring to speak above a whisper.

  He touched the slim, low branches, and one of the leaves drifted to the ground. Just when I thought he wasn’t going to answer, he said, “This is where I met the herdsman.”

  Suddenly the bad feelings inside me boiled to the surface. Of course this was the herdsman’s field, what other place could carry such a haunting, unsettled mood? I knew it wasn’t right. I knew it held some terrible secret. Ever
y nasty thought I’d had about the herdsman over the past ten months threatened to spew from my lips. What kind of man claims to have seen the gods face to face, but conceals himself from other men? And if he is, in fact, one of the gods as Adam claims, why does he refuse to act? How could Adam trust him so, even in the face of tragedy such as this? Rage at the herdsman colored my cheeks and clenched my fists. It was only out of concern for Adam that I held my tongue.

  Absorbed in his memories, Adam didn’t notice my inner fury. “I was only a boy,” he went on, “a little younger than Claren. Father had put me in charge of one of the small herds in the field just past that tree line. It’s a rite of passage for Itomian princes. Syrano had cattle and I had sheep. One of the lambs wandered off and Father told me I couldn’t lose any of them, not a single one. I was terrified of punishment, so I searched all morning and afternoon.”

  He curled one of the laurel twigs into a ring. “I couldn’t find it. I thought it was dead, eaten by some wild animal. I sat on the edge of the river, right down there”—he pointed to where the boat was tethered—“and cried. And then, just as I’d resolved to return to the castle and confess my failure to Father, I heard a low bleating. The bleating of a lamb. I looked over my shoulder and saw the silhouette of a man walking toward me with a lamb in his arms. I couldn’t see his face, not in the dying light. But I wasn’t even looking properly, so relieved I was that he’d found the missing lamb. I took the lamb back without even thanking him, and returned to the other sheep. When I went to bed that night I was racked with guilt. I couldn’t believe I had been so ungrateful. The next morning I rowed out here, unsure if I would even see him again, but he was here. And he was here every morning after.”

  He fell silent. I had never heard him say so much about the herdsman. My throat brimmed with questions, but I pressed them down except for one. “Did anyone else know about him?”

  He nodded, his jaw tight. “Syrano. Syrano knew him too.”

  • • •

  Whatever disquiet I had about leaving Adam’s family for the afternoon was nullified upon our return. No one had even noticed our absence. Or if they did, they had the grace not to say anything. We found Adam’s parents in the gallery where we had left them; both apologized to me for Aveline’s outburst and while the memory brought a prickle of shame to my face, I told them not to trouble themselves on my behalf. Adam asked if we might dine in our room, and upon their agreement, said goodnight.

  We walked slowly down the hall, not speaking. My exhaustion grew with each step. The morning’s hunt felt like it had taken place days ago, not hours. I still had dried blood on my brow and untended scrapes on my arms. Silda was waiting for me in the chamber, and I could smell perfumed steam pouring from beneath the adjoining door. I desperately needed a bath. I craved to feel clean. But I didn’t want to leave Adam when he was in such a fragile state.

  He sensed my hesitation. “Bathe,” he said. “You’ll feel better.”

  “Adam—”

  “Silda, you’re not to let the queen out of the bathing chamber until she is as fragrant as a rose. Do you understand?”

  Silda nodded, alarmed. “Yes sir.”

  “Good.” He looked at me, his eyes shadowed by dark circles. “Dinner won’t be long.”

  I followed Silda through the bathing chamber door. “You can start without me. I’m not hungry.”

  At that, he nearly laughed. “Neither am I.”

  In the bathing chamber I let Silda help me out of my clothes and into the steaming tub. The hot water felt like knives against my skin, and my tight muscles groaned in protest. The luxury was just the same as before, with maids to tend every fleck of my skin and scrub away the last traces of dirt. But it held little charm. My thoughts whirled with Adam and the herdsman and Syrano’s death. I winced as Silda dabbed at the cut over my eyebrow, cleaning it with a foul-smelling liquid that stung terribly. When it came time to dry before the fire I stretched on the divan, gazing into the flames. Standing in the herdsman’s field had unsettled me greatly. And when Adam said that Syrano had known the herdsman as well, it made me realize that perhaps I was the mad one for disbelieving, and not he. I caught sight of my reflection in the glass and looked away, refusing to believe such a possibility.

  Silda dressed me in my nightclothes, then disappeared into the dark, trailed by her helpers. I slipped through the door, hoping to find Adam already asleep in bed. Instead I saw him sitting before the fire, with an untouched dinner tray growing cold on the table beside him.

  I sank into the chair beside him. “You were right. Bathing did help,” I lied. “Perhaps you should have one yourself. I can call for them to draw it for you.”

  “No, I’ve washed already,” he said, with a nod to the corner basin. He drew a deep breath, and after a pause said, “Alyce, I’d like to speak with you about something important.”

  I watched him carefully. “All right. I’m listening.”

  “When we return home I want to hold a coronation. I want you to be crowned Queen of Myrilla, in your own right.”

  “You…what?” It was the last thing I’d ever expected him to say. “I don’t understand. No queen has ever held that position in her own right before.”

  “Yes, I realize that. I want you to be the first.”

  I turned to look at him fully, and only when I saw his face did I realize he was serious.

  “Adam, this has been a truly horrific day,” I said gently. “You have not only lost your brother in an awful accident, but your nephew—who is a child—is now the next in line for your father’s throne.”

  “Alyce—”

  “I understand you’re worried about succession, but now is neither the time nor the place to discuss it.”

  “It has nothing to do with succession.” To my complete shock he started to laugh. “Alyce, my darling wife, are you so unaware that you truly think I’m concerned about Myrilla’s heirs right now? I’m thinking of you. I’m thinking of what a great queen you are, your kindness and loyalty and sense of justice. How you put the needs of others first, even when doing so means you’re at risk. I want you to be my queen, not just in marriage, but in law. I want you to rule beside me as an equal. Look at Aveline, the woman Syrano was given for his queen. What she said to you today…I will never forgive her for that. Never have I known such a poisonous beast.” He reached for my hand, studying my fingers in the glow of the fire. “How thankful I am that the gods gave me you instead.”

  It was a moment before I could find my words. Even when I did, I didn’t know how to respond to his offer. “Adam, don’t say you won’t forgive Aveline. She’s the mother of your nieces and nephew. Her words hurt me, yes, but she’s hurting much worse.”

  He touched my hand, smiling tenderly. “Even now, you’re all patience and grace. If the gods ever made a woman to rule in her own right, Alyce, it is you.”

  I kept very still. He had never spoken to me like that before. I took in his earnest face, searching for what strategy he had hidden there, but found none. “Thank you.”

  Satisfied, Adam put another log on the fire as I climbed into the snowy white bed. My confusion only increased when he slid under the blankets and whispered: “You should also know, Alyce, that as great a queen as you are, you’re an even better wife.”

  His heavy arm slid around my waist and the last thing I felt was his face burrowing in my rose-scented hair. I should’ve spent the whole night tossing and turning with worry, but I don’t think I moved an inch. In fact, it was the best sleep I’d enjoyed in months.

  Chapter 24

  The funeral was held four days later, the very day we were scheduled to depart. What looked like all of Itomius turned out to bid Prince Syrano farewell as his body was carried down to the river. I stood alone; Adam was part of the close band that placed his brother’s body in the narrow boat before it was set aflame. My heart hurt for him. Without any siblings of my own I could not imagine his pain. And when I saw the weeping Prince Claren touch his father�
��s lifeless hand one last time, I selfishly thanked the gods for taking my parents when I was much younger than he.

  Adam’s father, bent over and broken with grief, held out a glowing torch and lit the straw at the edge of the boat. It wasn’t long before the wind caught the flame, spreading it over the pyre as it floated down the river. I wiped my cheeks and muttered a prayer under my breath, asking the God of Souls to give Syrano safe passage into his kingdom after death, and for Kore to lavish him with all her fruitful blessings.

  When the floating pyre vanished from sight, the crowd dispersed. Everyone was dressed in yellow—the Itomian color of mourning—and shone like a field of daffodils in the sun. I made my way to Adam, who was talking with Prince Claren. When he spotted me, he managed a smile. “Your favorite nephew has something to tell you, Queen Alcestis.”

  I looked at Claren. “I shall be glad to hear it.”

  The little prince cleared his throat. “I want you to know, Lady Queen, that you are a brave and valiant woman, blessed by the gods in every way,” he said in a rehearsed voice, whose stiffness made it no less endearing. “I hope that we may live in love and friendship all our lives, not only as fellow sovereigns, but as nephew and aunt.”

  I smiled, in no danger of laughing at the young boy’s earnestness. “That is my wish as well, Prince Claren,” I said gently. “I dearly hope to see you again soon. Perhaps you can come to Myrilla for a visit this winter.” I swallowed tightly. “Your mother and sisters would be most welcome as well. Our home is always open to your family.”

  “Thank you, Aunt Alcestis,” he said, forgetting all dignity and throwing his arms around my waist in a crushing hug. I stroked his hair, as fair as his father’s was dark, and a single tear fell from my eye onto the top of his head. When he finally released me, he bowed low to both me and Adam, then ran over the smooth lawn to join his mother.