"Beneath him," Storm grunted. "That says it all, don't it?"
On a third staff flew the smaller blue pennant of the new Prince Regent. It fluttered softly in the breeze and seemed to call attention to itself more than did the others.
"I'm glad he didn't live to see this," Teal said.
No one needed to ask whom he meant.
* * *
Hern Arbra, on his way back to Gerren's room, stopped still in his tracks as the death bell began its knell. His strained face looked far older than its sixty-odd years. "The gods help us."
In his heart, he knew he shouldn't have left Gerren. He should have been with his friend when the Gatherer came.
"Be of good heart, Hern," the wind whistled around him. "You did well by me."
Hern lifted his head and stared into the far corner of the corridor. "Moira?" he called, but the gentle voice he had known and loved so well did not speak again.
It did not need to. An old warrior's heart had been eased and his conscience soothed.
* * *
"I will not stay here, Brelan!" Legion shouted and would have made past him if Brelan had not put out a hand to stop him.
"No matter what your feelings for Galen and Elizabeth, you owe Papa your loyalty. Dyllon and Coron will want to see you when they arrive."
"They can ride to Ivor just as easily if they want to see me!"
Brelan sighed. "Legion, Elizabeth has asked that you be one of the pallbearers. If you won't do it for her, will you not do it for me? For Papa?" His face took on a strange look. "For Conar?"
Legion glowered. "You play dirty, Saur."
"Don't let your anger cause more pain for this family."
A mulish look passed over Legion's bearded face. "Who else will be pallbearers?"
"Hern, of course. Me and you. Also, Coron, Dyllon and Cayn." A faint smile lit Brelan's face. "Papa left instructions that he wanted Teal to sing the funereal mass for him."
"Good thing he didn't ask me to, huh?" came the broken reply.
"No one would ask that of you, Legion," Brelan replied, smiling sadly. He put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Believe me…no one!"
Chapter 12
* * *
Galen handed the babe back to Gezelle and sat on the foot of his wife's bed. He waited until the servant was out of the room before he spoke. "He will easily pass as my son."
Liza regarded him with narrowed eyes. "Galen, you promised —"
"I promised I would care for him as I care for you, and I will." He smiled gently. "I really do love the little brat, you know. He is my flesh and blood, sweeting."
"Why is it I don't trust you, Galen?" she asked, watching him with a deep intensity.
"Because I have never really given you reason to do so before now. I am finding your trust hard to come by, Liza." He looked away. "I hope one day I will win your confidence."
"Perhaps," she murmured, glancing at the single pink rose he had brought to her.
"You will be crowned queen of Serenia in two days. Have you chosen a gown?" He reached out to touch her leg but she moved her foot.
"I loved King Gerren. Knowing why I shall be crowned saddens me. I have no thought of gowns or such." She drew up her legs so he would not be tempted to try to touch her again.
There was deep hurt in his voice. "Is it for that reason or is it because it will be me who will be king at your side?"
She glanced at him. "It has nothing to do with you. I knew you would be king one day. It came sooner than I had anticipated, that's all."
Galen looked at the coverlet over his wife's legs. "You may not believe this, Liza, but I loved my father. I will miss him, too. Even though I am king now, I am the same man I was." He flinched at her snort. "Liza, please—"
"By right, you are now King, and I shall not shame you. I will hold to my bargain. But don't expect more from me than what I have already agreed."
He walked to the window. "I will have our things moved into Papa's room this evening. Will sleeping in there bother you overmuch?"
Liza ground her teeth. She could no longer put off sleeping in the same bed with the man. Her pregnancy had been a good enough excuse during the last two months, but now, she could no longer use it to deny him. She looked about the room where she and Conar had slept, made love, conceived a child. The room held memories that tormented her day and night.
"I will like it well enough, I suppose." Perhaps, she thought, there will be no ghosts in that other bed to haunt me.
"Brelan is sitting on that damned fountain again," Galen sighed.
It had become a joke to Galen. Rain or shine, sleet or snow, day or night, the man could be found sitting on the fountain, staring into space or up at Liza's room.
"Did you send Legion and the others away?" she suddenly asked.
He turned to look at her; the smile vanished from his lips. "You know I didn't."
"They hate me now even more." She bowed her head and felt the sting of tears.
He ached to take her in his arms, but knew she would not permit it. "I have no love whatsoever for that bastard and his cronies, but if it would make the sadness leave your eyes, I will bring him back myself. I'll bring them all back and make them come to see you!"
She shook her head. "They don't want to be here. They don't want to see me or my son. They could not have made their feelings more clear if they had sent an engraved announcement. Just leave them be."
He knelt beside the bed and craned his head to look into her eyes. He wasn't surprised to see tears easing down her cheeks. He wanted nothing more than to wipe away those silver droplets, to touch her, to comfort her, to make the world right for her. "Tell me what will make you happy, sweeting. Whatever it is, I will do it for you."
"What I need, you can not give."
Galen's forehead wrinkled. "You loved him that much?" He wasn't sure if he was angry or frustrated. Or just plain jealous.
"He was my life. Can't you see that?" Her lips trembled. "Without him, I am nothing. I want nothing. I have nothing, save my son. All that I have ever wanted, I have had." Her head lowered. "And lost."
He stood, his heart breaking. It had all been for nothing. For nothing. Such pain and misery, even death, for nothing. "You will never feel that way about me, will you?"
"No."
A great sadness welled up inside him. He felt himself perilously close to tears. He had suffered, as Conar had suffered, but she cared not a whit. He had been tortured in Conar's place, at Tohre's hands, but she dismissed it. He had known just as much pain as his brother in the Abbey, and yet his pain had been nothing compared to what he felt at that moment, knowing she would never turn to him for anything.
"If I could bring him back to you, Liza, I would." He walked to the door and turned to see her watching him. " I love you that much." His voice broke as he turned away from her, stumbling from the room before she could see his tears of bitter regret.
* * *
The air around him was hot and stagnant, smelling of earth and loam, cedar and salt. He opened his eyes to darkness so total no shred of light could be seen. He moved on the bed and heard the swish of satin, moved his fingers and gathered a handful of silky material. His brow furrowed. No, it wasn't satin; the material was coarser, thicker. He caressed it with his fingers and decided it was heavy canvas of some sort. He plucked at the material, worried it in his hands, and then sighed. It didn't matter what kind of coverlet they had thrown over him.
He let his body relax and savored the feeling of sleep curling at the edges of his senses. He turned his cheek into the pillow and thought it must be a moonless night. He had a fever, he thought, for he was very warm, so burdened down with the weight of oppressive air. It pressed against him, cloying with the damp smell of rotting timber.
Timber?
His eyes flew open and widened. His hands came up toward his face to wipe at the blackness, but when they were only at chest level, they slammed into a hard obstacle above him. They searched, grasped, sprea
d out over the hard canopy only a few inches above.
"No," he whispered.
He pushed. There was no give in the hard covering.
He pushed again, harder. The canopy held.
Full realization of where he was and what had been done to him hit him like the split of lightning.
"God, no!" he screamed, clawing at the wood, tearing into the grain with his grasping fingers. He shoved with all his strength against the barrier between him and life.
"Help me!" he pleaded, straining to push the barrier away. "Somebody please, help me!"
He could feel the air leaving his lungs, could hear himself gasping for air.
"Please!"
The strength was leaving his arms.
"Legion! Teal! Somebody, please!"
He could feel a scream tearing up through his vitals. He didn't try to stop it. It bellowed forth, loud and sustained.
"Galen! Galen!" Brelan shouted at his brother who was clawing at the air around him. "Wake up, man!" He slapped Galen, leaving a vivid handprint along the unshaven jaw.
"Get me out!" Galen screeched, trying to push at the imaginary lid above him. "Get me out!"
"Wake up!" Brelan shouted again and shook Galen hard enough to bang the man's skull into the headboard with a loud crack.
A glazed, terrified look spread over Galen's face. He was stunned to see Brelan standing over him, a look of pure hatred on his face.
"What the hell's the matter with you?" Brelan growled.
"I saw him, Brelan!" Galen was trembling so hard the bed was shaking. "I felt what he felt."
Brelan's lip curled. "Make some sense, man! Who are you talking about?"
Galen brought his hands up and over his face to hide. Through his fingers, his voice was muffled and shuddering. "We buried him alive. We buried him alive."
"Guilty conscience, King Galen?" Saur taunted. He turned on his heel and stomped from the room, slamming the door behind him.
Galen sat up in bed. When he brought his trembling hands down to his sides, he clutched at the silken sheets. "What have I helped do?" he whispered. "My god! What did I help do to him?"
PART III:
Chapter 1
* * *
As is taken from the Journals of Tambor de la Rue, Historian:
In the first year of the reign of King Galen Nicolai McGregor of Serenia, a great tidal wave of malcontent surfaced among the people of the Four Zones.
Taxes increased by forty-five percent; new land laws were enacted that gave two-thirds of the existing farm lands and orchids to the Temple; laws regulating land ownership and use were strictly governed by the Tribunal, the legal arm of the McGregor monarchy. Any land confiscated, for whatever reason, by the Tribunal, was kept as a landholding for the Temple.
Agents of the Temple purchased mortgages and, upon default of the owners, homes and lands were foreclosed upon without notice. Ships and wagons, cattle, horses, and all manner of personal property used in the day-to-day course of a man's livelihood were not spared confiscation upon the settlement of a debt to either the Temple or the Tribunal. If taxes could not be paid, that which the people owned was subjected to seizure by agents of the crown.
Marriages became arrangements sanctioned only by the Tribunal and petitions for such not meeting with the approval of the Arch-Prelate of the Wind Temple, Tolkan Coure, were denied. The rigid laws governing such petitions were harsh and often stringent. Marriages for love were no longer allowed; only those alliances that would benefit the Temple, the Tribunal or the King's coffers, were given approval.
Women were given a status just below that of the meanest serf and could not own property nor hold wealth of any form in their own names. Upon marriage, a female became nothing more than chattel to her husband's estate and could be sold into serfdom if she did not please him, or if he died in debt. Widows were cast out of their ancestral homes and were left penniless and at the mercy of whatever relative would take them in. If no one stepped forward to grant the woman protection, she could be subjected to arrest and taken to the nearest nunnery if she was beyond childbearing age. If she were young and reasonably pretty, the Tribunal either found a husband for her or sold her to highest brothel owner's bid.
This practice of buying the contract of a widowed or unwed woman well over the age of consent became a standard procedure among those men who had never married or were themselves recently widowed. For a pittance of one hundred gold pieces, the man could petition the Tribunal to consider his request for marriage, whether the woman was willing or not. If she refused once the Tribunal granted a petition, she could be imprisoned in a government-run brothel without hope of release.
Children born out of wedlock were looked at in a particularly bad light by the Tribunal, for sex not permitted by express approval of the court had been outlawed in the first six months of Galen McGregor's reign. These unfortunate by-products of an illicit love affair were taken away from their mothers, the mothers sold into bondage, and the fathers, if known, severely taxed for their impropriety. Since the Tribunalists unanimously agreed such conceptions were the fault of the women, the laws were lighter upon the males. It was not uncommon for a woman found guilty of indiscriminate sex to be hung for her transgression.
Unfortunately for the children so conceived, they were either placed in foster homes that were little more than slave-labor establishments, or they disappeared without a trace.
Commodities such as food, clothing and water rations, coal and wood, were strictly controlled by agents of the Tribunal. Bribery was a way of life among these men, for those who sought the necessary articles with which to maintain a normal life within the Four Zones had no recourse but to use every means at their disposal in order to provide for their families. Finding oneself on the bad side of one of the Temple officials who regulated the commodities would insure a day's existence without food or fuel. As a result, theft, muggings and murder also became a way of life for those unfortunate enough not to have ready gold with which to pay for their necessities.
Likewise, housing for the poor was denied those who were not gainfully employed. These homeless persons were often rounded up by press gangs and either sold into bondage on ships or farms, or were sent to prison colonies as forced labor. Those not fit to work for either mental or physical reasons, were executed as being socially unfit and unworthy to maintain life.
Those members of the existing military at the beginning of King Galen's reign were relieved of duty and likewise interned in special camps where they were kept under constant guard, their families seeing them only through the coiled barbed wire that separated the camps from the villages. Those who refused to swear total devotion to the Temple and Tribunal were executed unless a family member paid tribute for their lives. If a high enough tribute was paid, the men would be released, but were not allowed to rejoin the military; nor were they allowed the possession of weapons. If found with any means of self-protection, the men were subject to immediate arrest and deportation.
The two youngest royal brothers of King Galen—Prince Coron of Eurus and Prince Dyllon of Zephyrus—were relieved of their respectful Regencies and were placed virtually under house arrest, along with their wives and children. All those loyal to the younger princes were transported to Ghurn prison colony for internment.
Just how the Tribunal came by their immense power in so short a time, and so effectively, at that, has never been known. There are those who believe the transition of power from King Gerren to his son, Prince Galen, began the downfall of the monarchy in Serenia.
King Gerren had been an extremely popular monarch and a wise and strong leader. He was much-loved and respected by his people, feared by his enemies. Conversely, his son, Galen, was as despised as his father was loved. He was a weak and ineffectual ruler who bent to the rule of those much stronger than himself, namely the Tribunal. There was also some belief that Prince Galen was responsible in part for the death of his twin brother, Conar, and for that, his people hated him.
The young prince's marriage to Elizabeth Wynth was annulled, his lands, titles, and wealth confiscated by the Temple and his name expelled from the roster of the WindWarrior Society. But despite the charges against him—charges his followers refused to believe—his people still deeply loved and respected him and his death was a terrible blow to the freedom-loving people of his homeland.
Little is known of the personal life of King Galen, but his monarchy was one of terror, death, and suspicion. His enemies were executed; his friends, few that he had, were watched constantly by the Tribunal. His wife, Queen Elizabeth, was kept virtually isolated from the goings on outside the keep at Boreas. The lady lived, it was once reported, in gentle imprisonment. She devoted her life to helping as she could with the social problems of her day, but had little authority to aid her suffering people.
Since the borders between Serenia and her neighbors were closed not long after Galen McGregor's rise to the throne, the conditions within the Four Zones rapidly deteriorated as the years passed. Murder and robbery increased; brutality became commonplace among the soldiers who guarded the citizens of every town. Complaints were ignored and many individuals, who vocalized their dislike of the new laws and lawkeepers, were arrested on the hearsay and informing of others and sent to prison colonies abroad.
Yet dissatisfaction among the populace was like a pot continuing to boil unobserved and with each new atrocity perpetuated against the people of the Four Zones, the seeds of rebellion were sown. The seed took root on the twentieth day of June in the year now known as the Year of the Deathwatch.
It was on this day that the first of Prince Conar McGregor's illegitimate children disappeared. Until that time, the slain prince's offspring had been protected under Tribunal law since they had been born to a royal son of the McGregor clan. But an edict was sent out from the Temple revoking that protection. When it was learned the children had been taken by the Brotherhood of the Domination and scattered in Wind Temples throughout the Seven Kingdoms, a thunderous hue and cry went up from the people. Within a day's time, troops and mercenaries from each of the surrounding countries, including the unfriendly kingdom of Necroman, began to attack the temples in each of their homelands, searching for Conar McGregor's children.
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