The Invisible Chains - Part 1: Bonds of Hate

by Ashling, Andrew

  And still he didn't know where he was or who had done this to him or why.

  From behind the wooden wall Emelasuntha observed him through the gaps in the planks.

  “Dear,” Sobrathi whispered plaintively, “we've been standing here for more than an hour now.”

  “Patience, dear,” the queen answered soothingly. “Soon now, real soon.”

  She saw Birnac crawl to the right front corner of the cage, turn around and crouch with his backside as near the gutter as was possible. With thundering noise he defecated and almost liquid excrement splattered around.

  “Now,” Emelasuntha whispered. “Quietly.”

  Without making a sound both women appeared from behind the wooden separation that had shielded them and stood before the cage, looking down on the man who crouched down with his back to them.

  “Isn't that Birnac Maelar, the good doctor who seeks ennoblement?” Emelasuntha asked, raising her voice to be heard above the rumbling sounds the man who was relieving himself made. “What do you think? Would he make a fine marquess? Or a distinguished baronet, maybe? I can't tell from the shit exploding out of his naked ass.”

  Birnac Maelar startled, lost his balance and fell in his own excrement. When he looked up he saw the two women looking down upon him, naked, dirty and soiled as he was with his own fecal matter. He immediately recognized the queen and realized that the two women had been looking at him while he relieved himself messily and noisily. He felt overcome by almost intolerable shame and mortification. He wished the ground would split open and swallow him. Hastily, he covered his private parts with his hands. Then he started to cry from sheer misery and humiliation.

  “I don't know just what it is, dear,” Sobrathi said, “but somehow he doesn't look all that noble to me, does he now?”

  “I would take a closer look if he didn't stink so awfully.”

  Emelasuntha clapped her hands and several men appeared promptly. Birnac Maelar now cringed under their dispassionate stares, while raw fear got the better of him. Two men hauled four big stones of equal hight into the barn and laid them on the edges of an imaginary square. A third brought in a large metal grille. Two others waited near the queen for her instructions.

  “Get him out of there,” she said curtly.

  The men opened a small door at the side of the cage.

  “Come, piggy, come,” one of them said.

  Birnac crawled hesitatingly out of the cage. The men grabbed him, with visible distaste, by the arms and led him to face Emelasuntha. When they let go he arched forward, his hands covering his private parts again.

  “Stand upright, master Maelar, and look me in the eyes. Have you no pride?” Emelasuntha said dispassionately.

  Birnac righted his back a few fractions of an inch.

  “How is this possible?” he thought miserably. ”Wasn't she supposed to have fallen from grace and kept prisoner by her own husband, the high king? Have they reconciled? Am I in Ximerion? They assured me nobody would ever find out. They swore the Sisterhood would protect me. The Gods help me, the Lioness of Torantall has scented my blood.”

  “I have a few questions for you and how you answer them will determine your future, which admittedly could be very short. Why did the herbs and the pills you gave my son make him sick instead of curing him?”

  Birnac trembled.

  “Your majesty, what are you talking about? Your son fell ill, remember? The herbs maybe didn't cure him completely, but they made him better and kept his condition stable. Weak, but stable nevertheless.”

  “Wrong answer, master Maelar. Since he stopped taking them he completely recovered.”

  She turned to the men and made a sign.

  They took Birnac again by his arms and led him to the wall where the grille was placed in a leaning position. Two other men shackled his wrists and ankles and fastened them to the grille, which the four of them then lifted, with Birnac upon it, and laid upon the four stones. Dry grass and twigs were scattered under the grill and set afire. The stones were so high that the flames didn't reach Birnac's back immediately, but he felt the warmth quickly turning into heat.

  “Care to change your answer, master Maelar?” the queen asked.

  “Your majesty, I swear...”

  On a sign of Emelasuntha fine chopped wood was thrown under the grille. The flames began to reach higher.

  “No, No... I was forced, your majesty... I was threatened...”

  “By who?”

  “The Order of the Great Mother, by the First Daughter herself. I could do nothing but obey them. They had learned that I was your son's physician. That I prepared his medicines. They threatened me. They said they would send the Sisterhood after me.”

  “You could have come to me. I would have protected you. Besides, I don't believe you. Not entirely. What was your price?”

  Since Birnac didn't reply promptly, she again made a sign, and another handful of wood was thrown upon the fire under the grille.

  “Stop, stop. Ten thousand rioghal.”

  Another sign, another handful of wood.

  “And they promised to send high born patients my way.”

  “Ten thousand rioghal,” Emelasuntha snarled ominously. “My son's life is worth ten thousand rioghal. Tell me, why? Tell me everything, and I will spare your life.”

  “I don't know, Your Majesty, I don't know. Really. She only said she wanted him in a weakened state. Permanently. Alive but weak. Mercy, great queen, I would never have consented in killing your son. Never. I swear.”

  “And the last batch?”

  “They said they had your consent. That you were momentarily in the impossibility to deliver them to your son yourself, but that you had asked the Sisterhood to do it in your place. They assured me you knew.”

  He tried to arch his back to get farther away from the heath.

  Emelasuntha kept repeating her few questions over and over again.

  “Why, master Maelar, why do they want my son incapacitated?” she asked at last.

  She pointed at his head and one of the men threw a few handfuls of wood right under it. The flames leaped up and licked at Birnac's hair. It caught fire almost immediately. He let out an inhuman howl, and the room filled up with a pungent smell. After a few minutes all his hair had burned up, and angry red blisters began forming on his bald scalp.

  “Why, master Maelar?” the queen repeated evenly.

  “I don't know, I don't know,” Birnac yelled in agony. “I really don't know.”

  Finally she was satisfied that she had gotten everything he knew out of him.

  “I told you all I know, I swear it,” Birnac yammered.

  “Yes, I believe you did, and that makes you instantly valueless. Here is what is going to happen, master Maelar. You're going to die of course. It wouldn't be fair to impose your company on those innocent pigs after all. But take heart, you're not going to die immediately. We'll begin by burning off your feet, and we'll take care to keep you alive while we do it. For a while at least. Then, when finally the fire has consumed your legs and we roast your ass off, you'll maybe die of sheer pain and agony. I hope you don't expect us to return your remains to your family for an honorable burial. I will not even allow your carcass a grave. My men will chop up your charred remains, and give them to the black swine there. They really eat anything, and their jaws and teeth are so strong they can grind your skull and your bones into powder. They're not fussy, they'll devour your flesh. Nothing of you will remain. Eventually you'll end up as what you always were. Swine shit.”

  “Emelasuntha, dear...” Sobrathi gulped, exasperated.

  “I told you that I would feed whoever did this to the swine,” the Queen replied quietly. “And I swear, if I ever get my hands on the First Daughter, I'll hang the old bitch by her own intestines.”

  “Has she taught Anaxantis to hate like this? If so, may the Gods help him. And us.”

  On a sign of the queen the men began to throw liberal amounts of wood under Maelar's feet. />
  “You promised to spare my life, noble queen,” Birnac shouted in desperation at the top of his lungs.

  Emelasuntha looked at him and shrugged.

  “So, I lied.”

  She started walking away as the flames began licking at Birnac's heels.

  “Mercy, mercy, great queen, mercy. Kill me. Kill me now,” he cried in excruciation and terror after her.

  Emelasuntha turned around and looked down upon him with immeasurable contempt.

  “Mercy?” she said softly. “Mercy?”

  For a moment she was quiet.

  “You harmed my son,” she then roared at him in a voice that made even the blood of her men curdle.

  While the stench of burning flesh and loud, high pitched screams of agony began to fill the room, she left the barn without looking back.

  “Maybe it would be better if you stayed inside, for the time being,” Anaxantis said. “I didn't like the look of some of the captains last evening.”

  “So, he has noticed too,” Ehandar thought.

  “Couldn't I go with you? I would be safe as long as you're with me.”

  “I thought we agreed that the point of all this was to prevent awkward rumors from spreading. It would defeat the purpose if you were to tag along all the time. No, I'm afraid it's out of the question.”

  Ehandar felt his spirits sink.

  “So, what you're saying is that I'm a prisoner here?”

  Anaxantis looked at him and embraced him.

  “No, of course not. I just want you to be safe. I don't want to have to worry all day long that something might happen to you. Here I can protect you. I'll tell the guards to let nobody in, except for the servants.”

  Ehandar looked around and realized that his world had suddenly become very, very small.

  “Help yourself to my books,” Anaxantis said while he girded on his sword. “I wish I could stay with you, but I have things to do.”

  “Things to do. No further explanation. No use any longer keeping me in the loop, is there?”

  When he had put on his mantle, Anaxantis kissed him.

  “You were so brave, yesterday,” he said softly. “Oh, and I will think of a new name for you.”

  “A new name?”

  “Well, you renounced not only your lineage, but also your name. So, you have no name for the moment. In fact, you have nothing to call your own anymore. We should have a name to refer to you in official documents and such.”

  “Is this really necessary?” Ehandar asked unhappily.

  “I'm afraid so,” Anaxantis replied resolutely.

  When he was at the door of the apartment, he turned.

  “Listen, when I said to not leave the room, that was only a suggestion. Of course you can do as you like. But I wish you would stay inside. Nevertheless, any time you want, you can leave.”

  “Except, you can't,” he thought.

  “No, that's all right. I'll stay here, for the time being,” Ehandar said demoralized.

  “All right, then. Sorry, but I have to go.”

  Ehandar followed him with his eyes until he closed the door behind him.

  At the main entrance of the tower he spoke to the guards.

  “The person in my private apartments is not to leave the tower. I don't think he will, but if he should try to leave, retain him and simply leave him no other option than to return from whence he came. Use violence if you have to, but only when and as much as strictly necessary. And no disrespect. Whatever his rank may be, he is my guest and as such is to be treated with courtesy. Pass it on. I will check to make sure my orders are followed to the letter.”

  Then he went to the kitchens, where he caused a commotion, just by entering. He looked around and saw Renda, who he recognized as one of the servants who brought them their evening meals. He made a sign that he wanted to speak to her. She dried her hands on her apron.

  “You seem a nice woman,” he said. “I want you and you alone to bring the person in my room his food.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Renda said. She looked at him expectantly.

  “I want him treated with respect, and I would appreciate it if you could be... kind to him.”

  Renda looked him in the eyes and nodded. She had of course heard of the renunciation. As she was truly a kind soul she was sorry for ‘that poor young man’. Her colleagues used an altogether different description for the fallen prince, though not to her face.

  “I will be my pleasure, my lord. I'll see to it that his meals continue to be of the same quality as they always were. I'll even add something extra tasty as desert. A good, delicious meal, a fresh flower and a smile can do wonders against dark thoughts.”

  Anaxantis sighed.

  “Thank you. You're very kind.”

  Renda smiled reassuringly. She thought it very endearing that the young lord governor was so protective and took such good care of his poor, older brother.

  The weather until now had been relatively mild, but winter seemed determined to set in. Anaxantis had ordered a large tent to be erected in the north east corner of the clearing. It was there that he received Tomar.

  “You have the documents ready for the transfer of his funds?” he asked. “I have his seal.”

  “Yes, my lord, I have, but they are not necessary,” Tomar said.

  “Not necessary?”

  “No. I was making arrangements for the documents to be sent with the special courier of the paymaster of the army, since they make the trip to Ormidon every week. I have a friend there and I asked him if their service was dependable. As I fully expected, my friend assured me that it was and this time all the more so since they had an important document that concerned the lord governor. My friend has always been a bit of a gossiper and it was not very difficult to make him spill the details. It seems your brother came to them yesterday morning and had documents drafted whereby he transferred all his assets to your account.”

  Anaxantis looked at him stunned and blushed.

  They talked for a while about the correlation between good government and an efficient administration.

  “That is one,” Tomar thought triumphantly when Anaxantis asked him to take a look at his administrative duties and organize them, giving him a free hand to do so.

  It soon became clear that Tomar had an extensive knowledge, not only of the letter of the various laws, but also of the reasons that had prompted them into existence. Anaxantis found Tomar's somewhat dismissive attitude in regard to the sanctity of the law refreshing. They also discovered that in many cases they had read the same books.

  “And now, master Parmingh,” he said after a period of silence, “tell me some more about yourself. How does a young, talented man of the law like yourself find himself in these unpromising backwaters?”

  Tomar cleared his throat and began his carefully prepared account of his career up until now. When he had finished Anaxantis laughed.

  “OK, that will do for now. I hope one day, maybe you will trust me more than you do now and tell me the full story without skipping over little details you so obviously left out.”

  “Really, this is about it,” Tomar said slightly distressed. “Mainly it was my big mouth that got me into trouble for telling the truth as I saw it once too often.”

  “I hope you plan on continuing doing that,” Anaxantis said.

  “If you mean will I tell you the truth, even if it is unpleasant? You can count on it, my lord. I'll try to be more diplomatic about it than I used to be, though.”

  At that moment Bortram entered the tent.

  “It's almost noon and we are feeling a bit hungry, Anaxantis.”

  “Let's eat then. Tomar here will be joining us.”

  “Then he can help set the table,” Bortram said, signing the notary to follow him.

  When they had almost finished eating, Marak entered the tent.

  “Ah, I'm just in time to be too late, I see,” he said.

  “There's enough left, but you'll have to fight Bortram for it,”
Lethoras grinned.

  “No, thank you, no meal is worth the integrity of my ribs.”

  He sat down at the table and poured himself a cup of watered down wine.

  “I had a very instructive talk with my father,” he said hesitatingly, with a questioning look at the notary.

  “Oh, yes, this is Tomar,” Anaxantis said, “he will be helping me with the administration. It's all right, he's a friend. Tomar, say hello to Marak Theroghall.”

  “Yes, my lord. Pleased to meet, you sir.”

  “Sorry, I forgot,” Anaxantis said, smiling at Tomar. “My friends call me Anaxantis, and we're not very formal when it's just us.”

  “And that is two,” Tomar thought, deeply satisfied.

  Marak nodded and proceeded to give an account of what his father had told him about the events in Dermolhea twelve years ago.

  “So, you see,” he concluded, “no solutions there, only more mysteries.”

  “Does that mean we had a traitor in our midst?” Lethoras asked nonplussed.

  “Yes it does,” Anaxantis replied thoughtfully, “and now that Marak's father has given us, not more mysteries but, on the contrary, the last pieces of the puzzle, I can safely say the traitor is still in our midst. How could I have been so naive? All the time it was staring me in the face.”

  The others looked at him uncomprehendingly.

  “It's so obvious once you look in the right direction. I distinctly remember thinking that there must have been someone whose task it was to ensure that the Mukthars would not meet with any resistance at all. And there clearly was such a person. The next question was, who could make sure that the army wouldn't march in time?”