With her back flat against the soothing cold wall, Sira stared through the narrow window slit into the night sky. She'd never missed a Spawning Festival before even though her hair was shot with grey and her days of dancing and revelling until dawn were long gone. These days she celebrated the new eel season with a few sips of wine and too many cakes before retiring to her room early to avoid the rowdy crowds. Now she missed every wine-soaked face and wished she could jig until her heels were red with blisters.
She didn't scream like the others, their voices carrying down the corridor into her cell. Sira watched herself from above. Hers was a life of obedience. The good sister, the good child, the good servant. And her one rebellious act had landed her in the dungeons. She chuckled, a smile dawning on her face as Wisia's riddles unravelled.
If only she'd listened to her heart and had the courage to act earlier, chased down her heart's desires, reached out her hand when temptation burned, told Majvi how beautiful she was. Maybe she could have known love.
The world was rid of Iwan. After so many years of shame over her failure to defend her sister, the dragging remorse was finally gone from her belly. But it had been replaced by a new regret. Teo. She wished she could have saved him. She sighed at the thought of his terror and pain. Her only consolation was his innocence. The Father would see a young boy untouched by sin and invite him into the Land Beyond the Sunset without question. He would run carefree in the meadows and eat ripe peaches and smile by the Father's side.
Sira's fate lay in the hands of a man she'd spent her whole life serving. A decent young man. Thankfully, he had not inherited his dead father's wandering hands. But as Wisia had said, a price must be paid, and Sira was ready and willing to face punishment for her part in their deaths. The Duke, the Master of Shield and the Scion might not understand the virtue in her actions, but she had acted with love and compassion. Like them, she fought against the threat to her people, her family, but the men would never understand.
Watching silver clouds pass by the moon through the slit window, she sat waiting for her fate to be determined for her, as her whole life had been. She understood that the Father must restore the balance.
***
Rabel ignored the cockroaches scurrying over her dinner and said nothing when her cellmate snatched the stale bread for himself. Like her son and her babes, her fight was gone. Her body limp and heavy, she lay with her cheek pressed into the slimy straw.
The Duke knew everything. About the deaths, the mushroom, her guilt. He would hand out the punishment she deserved. Stupid, rotten to the core, she never learned, leading her to commit the worst sin of all.
'Why, Mama?' called a tiny familiar voice.
Rabel buried her head in her arms, slamming her hands hard over her ears. She hummed, trying to drown out the noise but the voice continued clearly. Loudly.
'Why did you kill me, Mama? Didn't you love me?'
'I did!' she spluttered. 'My Teo. I loved you more than anythin'.'
'Then why did you kill me?' Teo said.
'If only I hadn't turned my back, I could have stopped you.'
'Shut-up!' Rabel's cellmate yelled out from the corner. 'Mad bitch.'
But she only heard the voice of her son.
'I was hungry, Ma,' Teo said.
'I know,' she said between sobs. 'I was tryin' to protect you.'
'It's cold here, Ma. I'm scared.'
She jolted upright. Her eyes wide and wild, searching the darkness. 'Aren't you with the Father?'
There was no reply.
'Teo? Where are you?'
'Quiet!' Her cellmate stomped over and slapped her across the face.
Rabel cowered but said nothing the man. She curled into a ball, rocking back and forth. 'Don't be scared, Teo,' she said. 'Mama is coming. Mama will be with you soon.'
***
Brushing aside her tears, Agata pacing her dark cell.
'What do I know?' she muttered, grinding her teeth. 'Think.'
She had scant information but she knew the law. As a child, when her father and Madame Fidan were looking the other way, she'd hidden behind a heavy curtain and watched him preside over his local matters in the manor's Great Hall. Just like Queen Magnilla, he'd sat on his throne and resolved disputes among his subjects. The previous King Rados had enforced a single legal code across the entire Four Rivers Kingdom during his long reign. The same procedures applied in Ambrovna as in Tramissa. Only weeks earlier, Agata had flicked through the pages of this code in her husband's Cabinet. It was one of the many books she'd read in the dark nights of the war.
She straightened and lifted her chin high, as footsteps approached.
Lord Kalin entered, followed by the fleshy toad-like guard who placed a lump of black bread and a mug of water on the rotting straw.
In spite of herself, she lunged for the mug and gulped the water greedily. 'I am ready,' she said, wiping her mouth on her sleeve, still dressed in the stolen guard's terracotta uniform with the eel sigil on the chest.
'For what?' Kalin raised an eyebrow.
'My Initial Council. As is my right,' she said.
'There will be no Initial Council.' Kalin's dark eyes were cold as ash.
'But an Initial Council is required.' Agata frowned. 'This is the legal code of the Kingdom of the Four Rivers.'
'I know the code perfectly well. Different rules apply when a person is accused of treason.'
'Treason?' She stumbled backwards, her jaw slackening.
'Treason and three murders. We were lucky to stop you before you reached your fourth intended victim.'
'Four?' She scrubbed her hand across her forehead and counted two. Rabel's husband and son. Who were the others?
'Do not play me for a fool,' Kalin tutted. 'Your conspiracy to murder the Duke and take the throne for yourself. If you understand the legal code as you claim to, you will know your Wasp Women rebellion is treason.'
'I never...This is all lies!' The room lurched as the allegations thumped in her ears. 'I would never hurt him.'
'Save your protests. I will not be the one determining your fate.'
'But it's not--'
Kalin continued speaking but Agata's thoughts muffled his words. She must see the Duke and explain, untangle these lies. He could not possibly believe she wanted him dead.
'I must speak with the Duke. Alone.'
'You will remain here until your trial with the others.'
'Others?' she stammered.
'You know full well,' Kalin huffed. 'Your ugly maid, her sister and the mohair merchant's wife.'
Agata narrowed her eyes. 'May I ask who made these accusations?'
'I cannot name the source.'
As all the possibilities ran through her head, Agata's eyes never left Kalin's face.
'The Scion,' she said, resisting the urge to spit his name.
'You do not have as many friends as you think. But if you wish to confess, I can arrange for a member of the Fatherhood to visit you? So you may confess your sins?'
Agata barked out a laugh, so angry, even she was shocked by the bitter tone. 'You never approved of me, did you Lord Kalin? You must take great pleasure in bringing me to trial. Tell me. Why do you disapprove of me so much? Is there a particular reason?'
'I have no opinion of you personally.' Kalin blinked, his gaze steady on her face. 'But the Duke should have chosen a Vorosy wife. I counselled him at the time but--'
'You don't like where I come from? Have you cooked up this whole story to be rid of me?'
'You credit me with too much imagination. I have nothing to do with the accusations. I am merely fulfilling my role as Master of the Shield.'
'And enjoying it.'
'In my experience, troubles are avoided when we stick with our own. It turns out I was right. As usual.' He turned for the door. 'I will leave you to consider your accusations. The next time we meet, you will be standing before the Duke and the whole town.'
'If I am not permitted to visit my own husban
d, can you give the Duke a message from me?'
'I am not a messenger.'
'Tell him, there is some truth but most are lies. I would never hurt him.'
'You can tell him yourself when you are summonsed to the Great Hall.'
'Believe me. I will not allow these lies without a fight.'
Kalin gave a half-shrug. 'As you wish.' He waved to the guard and the door locked behind him.
As soon as he was gone, Agata's knees buckled. She pictured her husband's eyes mirroring Lord Kalin's poisonous glare. If only she'd held her tongue. Kalin would be upstairs now, relaying every spiteful word to him and the Scion.
Agata ripped into the stale bread. The sharp edges grazed the inside of her mouth as tears flowed down her cheeks. She had nowhere to turn. Her father was missing, her brother dead, she had no coins and no friends to rely on. She slurped down the last mouthful of water without tasting a drop and slid down the mossy wall, crumpling to the ground.
Chapter Fifty-three
'Today, the war widows of Ambrovna will be united with new husbands.' The Scion stood at the edge of the wooden dais, his unrelenting glare silencing the crowd across the Square. 'This will reinforce families and demonstrate that we abide by the Teachings of the Father. This is our offering to Him on this auspicious day of the Spawning Festival. We hope this gesture of commitment to the sanctity of the family will lead to a bountiful eel harvest this year. In the eyes of the Father.'
'In the eyes of the Father,' the crowd repeated as reverentially as at any service inside the Temple.
The Duke leaned back in his carved chair and stared at the back of the Scion's bald head. The Allotment women lined up on his right, their faces wrapped with veils of muted blues and pale yellows, their eyes visible and bulging with terror. He rubbed his own raw eyes and tried to concentrate on the betrothal ceremony, but his mind kept wandering down to the dungeon and proceedings scheduled for the following day.
'Bring the new couples together.'
Bronze-gowned Cousins ushered the men from the left and veiled women from the right, bringing them together into couples. Men had queued to take part in the Allotment since the first light of dawn, but first choice went to the men taking their brother's wives, then in descending order, based on class and rank until there were no men left. One woman, widow of a wine merchant, with a daughter of marriageable age and her ability to breed in doubt, was taken away to join the Unwanted.
The allotted couples stood in rows along the front of the dais with hands tied together with rope. The Duke cringed at the sounds of muffled crying.
The Scion raised his arms to the sky. 'We bring these women to these men, all in the eyes of the Father. Their hearts are pure and their commitment to the Father is strong. The light of the Father shining through these men will cleanse the sinful soil of the women. Today as a couple, they make a declaration of unity, as a family, to follow the Teachings. To raise children and bring forth more followers of the Father to continue our glorious way of life. Oh Father, bless these new families with bounty and commitment, and they will, in turn, repay you with their loyalty. And those who do not follow your true path will face the consequences, destined for the Land of Eternal Darkness.'
The Scion turned to the couples. 'Women. Repeat after me. We vow to be pious...'
The women repeated the Scion's words, but their voices were shaky and meek. The Cousin waved his hands, encouraging them to speak up.
'We vow to respect our husbands as the Father of their household, to obey and love him for the rest of our days.'
'In the eyes of the Father.'
The Duke's own betrothal day had been less than two years ago. Like today, it had been a day of new beginnings, of hope. At the time he'd thought his heart would burst with joy. She'd had jonquils in her dark hair and a playful gleam in her cinnamon eyes. But now his foolishness punched him in the solar plexus, the memory forever blackened.
He should be smiling, happy for the newly betrothed but he slumped, his arms and legs heavy as wood. The Scion and Kalin were wrong. Agata would never plot to murder him, would she? Or had he been bewitched as they said? He shuddered and blinked, returning his attention to his people before him. Duty always came first despite the yawning ache in his chest.
'Men. Do you accept the offers of piety, goodness, obedience and love from these women?'
'Yes, Scion Zavis,' the men responded in unison. Some beamed, others had faces as grim as the Duke's. 'In the eyes of the Father.'
'And so, it is sealed, in the eyes of the Father. The couples are united until death.'
The crowd clapped awkwardly as couples left the dais, unlike the usual cheering and dirty jeering at the end of a betrothal ceremony.
Lord Kalin stepped forward. 'Now it is time for the Duke to name the Spawning Queen.' Lifting an eyebrow, he gestured to six giggling girls. Young men in the crowd whistled and hurrahed, but the Duke sighed.
He could not ignore the smirks, the whispering, the furtive glances his way. A scandal in the castle was far more interesting than any ceremony.
***
Lutes and laughter from the Spawning Festival drifted in through Agata's cell window, the merriment a stark contrast to the year before when she had led a serious toast to all the men on the battlefield and all the women working tirelessly to keep the town running. The women of Ambrovna had stared up at her with a mix of pride and fear in their dark-circled eyes.
The Spawning meant more work bringing in the new season's crop of eels, but despite their aching backs, the traditions were maintained. There was feasting and dancing, women twirling in twos taking turns to lead but after an hour or two, the women all drifted away, seeking the comforts of sleep and their beds.
Agata pictured the dais. Was Lord Kalin sitting alongside the Duke, supping wine and plotting her downfall? Was Kalin whispering in one ear, the Scion in the other, filling the Duke's head with ideas about a new wife. Perhaps there'd be a flaxen-haired lord's daughter, a more appropriate choice with Vorosy blood in her veins. Was Agata from Tramissa already a distant memory?
Or did the Duke sit alone, moping into his wine and staring into the distance, his heart torn in two by his treacherous wife? Or were his cheeks red with shame, embarrassed by his choice of wife, a Wasp Woman who plotted his downfall? How soon before every noble in the kingdom laughed at Nyvard and his marital troubles?
Her speculations were interrupted by a hushed scraping at the lock. Agata's heart thundered as she scrambled to her feet. Was she such an embarrassment that they decided to conduct her trial in secret while the town made merry?
The iron door creaked open and a figure stepped into the cell.
'Duchess,' the stranger said in a muffled male whisper. 'Come with me.'
'Who are you?' She squinted, unable to make out a face.
'Shh. They will hear.'
'Who sent you?' Agata frowned into the darkness as a strong hand grabbed her arm.
'Come. Quickly.'
'Answer me.'
'There is no time. Come.'
Agata paused. She took a single step forward and paused again. 'Was it Lord Kalin who sent you?'
'I can get you out of here,' he said, his tone familiar, but she could not place it.
She pulled her hand away.
'Please trust me. They'll be here soon.'
Agata's head spun and she cupped her cheeks. Should she trust a faceless hand in the dark? Was she being led to an even worse fate? Should she save herself, forget Ambrovna and start anew?
A voice sounded in her head with four familiar words. 'Don't be like me.'
Agata was eight summers old again, back in the courtyard behind her father's manor on the day of Yeta's whipping. She watched her friend struggle and scream as the birch sang through the air. Yeta had not have a voice but Agata did and tomorrow she'd finally have her stage in front of the whole town. She would be Queen Magnilla. Her mother's words filled her with light. She relaxed her shoulders, steadied her breath and lif
ted her chin.
'Guards!' she yelled at the top of her voice.
'What are you doing?' the figure hissed.
Footsteps ambled down the corridor and the air moved as the faceless person slipped away, closing the door with a quiet thud.
'What?' said a bored lanky guard, his dim face illuminated by a candle between the iron bars.
'Someone tried to attack me. In here. Only moments ago.'
'Is that so?' yawned the guard.
'Push on the door. See. It is open.'
The guard sighed heavily and leaned against the open door. His boots skidded on the slippery bricks as he tumbled into the room.
'Who was it?' he said, shining his candle into all four corners of the room.
'I do not know,' she said, shielding her eyes.
'This better not be a trick,' he grunted. 'I'm not scared of any Wasp Woman,' he said as he locked the door firmly again and lumbered off, his keys jangling.
Agata paced and rubbed her chin, the knot in her belly tightening once more. Had she made a colossal mistake? Tossed away her last chance for freedom?
'Don't be like me.' Her mother's words brought a smile to her lips and untangled that knot. She had a promise to keep.
***
Peasants and their wives, old and young, whirled around the Square, clapping and slapping their knees while children played chasey. The minstrels tra-la-la'd over the knock of skittles and the banter over tug-of-war.
The Duke's belly was full, the vintage was fine, his best friends were by his side, but he sighed.
The stooped Seneschal presented the newly crowned Spawning Queen to him. She was a plump girl of seventeen with dimpled cream-like skin and straw-coloured hair. The girl fluttered her eyelashes and blushed pink as the Duke kissed her hand while Kalin and his men cat-called and grunted, wine now thick in their veins.
'You cannot go wrong with a Vorosy girl,' Kalin said with a knowing elbow.
Perhaps his friend was right. About many things. 'She is quite pretty,' The Duke replied but his mind wandered to the dungeon.
Women of Wasps and War Page 25