Stone of Help (Annals of Lystra)

by Robin Hardy

He blinked. “Of course a girl would be welcome here,” he said easily, adding, “I know what power a woman can hold.” Galapos smiled at the table and Deirdre felt something had gone over her head.

  The soldier reentered the hall and set a goblet and pitcher of milk before Deirdre. “Surchatain,” he said apologetically, “honey we have, but there are no rolls, and no one here knows how to make them. We have brown bread, though.”

  Deirdre screwed up her face in disgust. “Brown bread! No! Can’t you get some rolls from the baker?” she pleaded with her soft-hearted father.

  He creased his forehead and drew a few coins from the purse at his belt. “Get what you can with this,” he told the soldier.

  Deirdre, meanwhile, took a swallow of the milk and gagged. “It’s soured!”

  The soldier shrugged and Galapos patiently ordered, “And have someone milk a fresh bucket.”

  Deirdre shoved away the pitcher, muttering, “I will surely starve before this baby comes.”

  Roman, still thinking, asked Galapos, “How old must he be to handle a bow?”

  Deirdre glared at Roman, but Galapos winked at her and replied, “Why, I don’t know. How old was Deirdre when you taught her?”

  Roman, catching his error, confessed, “I don’t remember. But she learned well.” As they waited on Deirdre’s breakfast, he remarked, “I haven’t seen Brother Avelon. Has he come from the coast?”

  “No, as a matter of fact,” Galapos answered. “He sent back word thanking me for my offer, but saying many of the villagers have prospered there learning the fishing trade. He says his service is there, with them.”

  “Then the villagers are not coming to take the land you offered?” Roman asked.

  “Oh, some will, for certain. And the word spread so that people are coming from villages around Westford. We may not have enough land for them all—by the by, Basil has compiled everything so that we can begin the actual mapping today.”

  At this time the soldier brought in fresh rolls and milk for Deirdre. She continued to listen vaguely to their conversation while she ate. “What word from the villages? Are they still suffering attacks?” Roman asked.

  “Not like they were. We had early reports of confrontations in almost all of the villages—”

  “I recall them,” Roman nodded.

  “Well, when word got around the renegade camps that those little matrons and children had a few mean men with swords among them, most of the outlaws had no stomach for a second encounter. At Dansington, though, we had to send in extra men to clean it up,” Galapos said, wiping crumbs from the table with a knife blade.

  “What was there?”

  “A newly hatched slave market,” Galapos said, ramming the knife point into the table.

  Roman gaped. “I’d heard no word of this. As Commander, shouldn’t I have led the men in this attack? Or at least dispatched them myself?”

  Galapos hesitated, open-mouthed. “Ah . . . yes, Roman, you should have. I’m sorry—I seem to still be acting as Commander. From now on these reports will go directly to you. And as Commander, you shall deal with them as your judgment dictates. I have plenty else to keep me occupied.”

  “Thank you,” Roman acknowledged grumpily. Then, “But what of this slave market?”

  “It was headed up by a renegade from Tremaine’s army,” replied Galapos. “We shut them down quick, but I fear there are more.”

  “That’s what we need that battering ram for, to plough them under,” Roman growled. “I haven’t seen it yet, either.”

  Galapos stretched in his chair. “The unit we sent hasn’t had any success taking it apart—they swear they’ve never seen a machine like it. We still have a squad at work on it, but for now, it sits.”

  By this time Deirdre had eaten her breakfast and motioned for the soldier to take away the dishes. Galapos stood. “We have a moment to spare now—Roman, come to my chambers. I have questions about the passage I read last night.”

  “Passage?” Deirdre asked curiously.

  “Scripture, my love,” Roman answered, extending an arm around her. “And you need to come, too. You’re a believer now, and you should hear what your Lord has to say to you.”

  She made a face. “Oh, Roman, I was never good at studies.”

  “Please, Deirdre, come. You’ve no idea how important this is,” he pleaded.

  She remembered her tutor saying the same thing, and she had already decided he had overstated the case. She balked, “Roman, I had so wanted to see the lake this morning. We haven’t been there since we returned, and if I don’t go soon, it may be next spring before I see it again. Please—may we go there now? For just a moment?”

  Roman cast a questioning look to Galapos. The Surchatain smiled tightly. “You may take her to the lake, and Basil and I will begin the maps. But Deirdre—you will read with us later. You are no longer your own. You’re God’s now, and He will see that you are instructed in the faith. Be a willing student, Chataine. It’s so much easier that way.”

  Deirdre bowed her head and murmured, “Yes, Father,” content that she had her way.

  She wanted to ride, so Roman reluctantly saddled Lady Grey and the Bay Hunter, and they rode slowly out to their old haunt by the lake. He would not let her even dismount by herself, but lifted her down from the saddle. They walked, his arm around her shoulders, to the water’s edge. With autumn in progress, the lilies were gone, but the place was aflame with the beauty of reds and golds.

  They sat beneath the willows. He eased her back on the grass, then kissed her. For a time there were no words as Roman caressed her with his lips. He touched her swollen belly very lightly, as if he was afraid of hurting her. Lying beside her, he contentedly buried his face in her hair.

  Deirdre suddenly laughed, “I can see us in twenty years, still coming to this same place!”

  He smiled. “By then we’ll have worn a path from the palace to here.”

  “Anyone will know where to find us.”

  “Yes. They’ll need only follow the trail of children.” His look was unmistakable.

  She gave a little mock cry of offense and struggled up to a sit. He laughed outright, hugging her tightly to him. “Roman, I almost forgot! The Fair starts this week! Oh, there are so many things I need for the nursery!”

  His face sobered. “I’m sorry, Deirdre—I can’t go this week. Reapportioning the Surchatain’s land will take days.”

  “Oh,” she frowned. “Well, I’ll just take—”

  He was shaking his head. “No, Deirdre. You must not go without me.”

  “Roman!”

  “I promise we’ll go before the Fair is over.”

  “But the best things will be gone if we don’t get there early!” she protested.

  “There will still be good things left. I’m sorry, Chataine. It can’t be helped.” He stroked her hair while she sat pouting.

  At that moment a soldier appeared: “Excuse me. Commander?” Roman turned. “The Surchatain requests your aid now in preparing the reapportionment maps.”

  “I’m coming.” Roman stood and bent for Deirdre. “We have to go now.”

  She felt a slight irritation on top of acute disappointment. Would he be forever acting like her guardian? “Roman, I want to stay here just a while longer,” she said. He hesitated, then motioned to the soldier, but she stopped him with a wave. “Alone! Roman, there’s no danger here! I’ll return to the palace in a moment. I promise.”

  He knelt beside her and took her unwilling hand. “Deirdre, I know you’re angry. I understand why. But don’t stay here by yourself to—”

  “In heaven’s name, I only want to enjoy the lake! Now leave me alone!” She thrust her back to him spitefully.

  In the sting of her words, he quietly surrendered. “Very well. I’ll be waiting for you.” He left with the soldier.

  Immediately Deirdre felt remorse, and almost called after him, but a little reserve of pride inside caused her to stay silent. She would leave in a few minutes, ju
st as she said.

  She began listlessly picking blades of grass and tearing them up. It seemed, as she scanned the lake, that most of the sparkle had gone from the water. Clouds were beginning to gather and darken behind the trees on the other side. She felt that same darkness grow within her, but in her listlessness, refused to rise up and fight it.

  Suddenly, she focused across the narrow end of the lake. There was a figure on the far shore. It appeared to be—no, that was impossible!

  Deirdre’s heart began thumping as she grabbed Lady Grey. She rode as hard as she dared to the other side of the lake. When she reached the spot where she judged the person had stood, she dismounted and anxiously looked all about. But there was no one here.

  Hanging her head in disappointment, she turned back to Lady Grey and then saw that person standing behind the horse. “Nanna—is that you?” she gasped.

  “Darling!” Nanna cried, and they rushed into each other’s arms. The nursemaid observed, “So it is as she said. You will deliver soon.”

  Deirdre hardly heard her. “Oh, I can’t believe I found you. What a Godsend! Nanna, you must come right back to the palace with me! I need you more than ever now!”

  But the nursemaid recoiled. “No! I—I can’t do that, dear. But you must come with me. I have a friend who will help you.”

  Deirdre studied her in bewilderment, then concern. Nanna looked different—more than just from the passing of months. There was an alien look in her eyes. “Who?” Deirdre asked, watching her.

  The nursemaid patted her hand and said confidentially, “She told me I would find you here, you know. You must come with me now.”

  “Who told you?” Deirdre raised her voice in vague alarm as Nanna moved off into the forest. Deirdre hesitated as a picture of Roman’s wary face flashed through her mind in a warning. Nonetheless, concern for Nanna’s strange behavior impelled her to follow. “Wait, Nanna!” Deirdre caught up with her, then awkwardly climbed up on the mare and helped Nanna up behind her.

  They rode in the direction Nanna pointed. “Why were you limping so?” Deirdre asked.

  “A bad fall, dear. Nothing to worry about—my old bones just didn’t knit together right,” Nanna said lightly.

  “Where were you when Tremaine came through, Nanna?”

  “With a friend who hid me. You’ll meet her soon.” To other questions, Nanna merely smiled or patted her arm.

  Minute trailed long minute as they rode farther and farther from the palace. Deirdre began to feel anxious to return to Roman. The forest got darker, her back hurt, and Nanna’s behavior was most disquieting. “Nanna, please, I mustn’t get far from home. Please come back with me. There’s nothing to fear now. Galapos is the new ruler, and—”

  “Hush, hush, dear. I know all that.”

  “Then why won’t you go back with me?” Deirdre asked.

  “It’s not possible, Chataine. I can never go back.” Nanna would say no more.

  “But I must,” Deirdre declared, abruptly reining the horse around. “I’m returning now. I wish you would come with me, but—”

  “Here.” Nanna pointed to their right. “We can stop here. There is shelter.”

  Deirdre peered through the trees in the direction Nanna pointed. In the side of a low hill she saw a black hole almost entirely obscured by rocks and brush.

  Nanna slipped off the horse and limped to the opening. Deirdre also dismounted; as she did, she felt a twinge in her abdomen that spread to her back. “Nanna—” she pleaded, and the woman waved Deirdre to the cave.

  “You can rest in here, Chataine.” Hesitantly, Deirdre stepped into the hole. The cave was not more than thirty feet deep, and the walls were lined with sconces. It did not seem to be a natural cavern, somehow; Deirdre wondered how it had been carved from the rock.

  As she gazed inside, the urgency she felt to return to the palace pressed her more strongly. Then immediately she felt nauseous and weak-kneed. With a sudden sharp twinge, her water broke. Deirdre lowered herself to a bed of blankets on the dirt floor, realizing her labor had come early.

  “Nanna, please, please ride to the palace and summon Roman,” she moaned.

  “I will bring help,” Nanna assured her, then disappeared back out the hole.

  In the hours that Nanna was gone, Deirdre waited and prayed. There was no sound except for growls of intermittent thunder outside. When she experienced a momentary respite from the pains, and realized that she still had a little time before birthing, she said to herself, “Oh, this is ridiculous. I must start back at once. Better to get to the palace soaked than give birth here.”

  But when she looked out of the cave, she saw that Nanna had taken Lady Grey. Since it was impossible for Deirdre to walk back, she was forced to wait in this strange, uncomfortable place, feeling the pains come stronger and stronger. At intervals, she talked to herself and God as she paced: “Fool! What a fool, to insist on staying at the lake alone. Roman will be so vexed when he sees all the trouble I’ve gotten myself into. . . . Oh, I’ll be so glad to see him come charging in here, angry or not. . . . He’ll be furious with Nanna for bringing me here. . . . Lord, what’s happened to her? Why is she so strange?”

  At last, when the pains were causing her to gasp and cry out, she heard a rustle. Looking to the mouth of the cave, she saw Nanna enter, then step aside. “Oh, thank goodness!” Tears of relief came to Deirdre’s eyes before she saw that the other person to enter was not Roman at all, but a beautiful woman with blue-black hair. After the first stupefying moment, Deirdre recognized her as the witch, Varela, who had once cursed Roman. She carried small blankets, a basin, and a knife. Smiling with satisfaction, she approached the Chataine.

  Deirdre screamed helplessly, “Don’t touch me! Oh—Lord Jesus!” and she dropped to her knees as another pain squeezed her with new intensity.

  The sorceress came no closer. Deirdre was unable to notice that she was trying to approach, but could not. Varela pushed forward all around, only to be invisibly repelled at every attempt. Finally, she turned in frustration and shoved the articles at Nanna. “You deliver her, and bring me the child. I will send Bernal to rid me of her.” Nanna nodded and knelt lovingly beside Deirdre as she lowered herself, weeping, to the blankets on the earthen floor.

  Outside, the autumn storm had begun, deluging the forest and seeping into the mouth of the cave.

  Chapter 6

  “That completes the first map,” Galapos grunted and straightened his shoulders. “Eighteen families will each have a field in that area. Now here—” He began to outline another region, but Roman was standing at the window, staring distractedly out.

  “She should have returned by now,” he muttered.

  “Are you sure she hasn’t? She probably went straight back up to the nursery,” Galapos said, hunched over the desk again.

  Roman leaned down out of the window. “Marc! Has the Chataine returned?”

  The soldier below looked up, cupping his hand around his ear. After Roman repeated the question he shouted up, “No, Commander!” Roman leaned back, drumming his fingers in aggravation on the windowsill.

  “Would you like to go after her?” Galapos asked, glancing up.

  “No,” Roman said firmly. “I’m sure she intends to worry me.”

  Galapos pursed his lips and sat waiting. Roman looked at him once or twice, then mumbled, “I will return directly,” and hurried out. He muttered to himself on the way to the stables, “This is ridiculous. I must be firm with her this time.” Then he noted the grey and gathering clouds.

  Roman saddled the nearest available horse with unconscious speed and galloped to their spot by the lake. She was gone. Glancing again at the darkening skies, he calmly searched the grass and dirt until he found her mare’s hoof prints. Focused on finding her, he would not allow himself to entertain anger or fear.

  He followed the prints around the lake, then his brows knitted as he saw another set of footprints. Then Deirdre’s prints, here. Twenty paces farther, both hum
an prints disappeared and the mare’s sank deeper in the soft earth. Deirdre had taken on a rider, and the trail led directly away from the palace. His gut knotted, but he kept his eyes on the ground while thunder cracked overhead.

  As Roman followed the prints at a trot, great raindrops began falling, one by one, making large dark circles on the earth. Refusing to be alarmed, he grimly kept his eyes away from the black skies and concentrated on the tracks.

  Soon, with a flash, the rain came in furies. Squinting against the blinding wall of water, he doggedly followed the blurring prints out of the trees into open grassland. In moments the trail was gone—washed away.

  Still he rode in the direction the prints had led, calling, “Deirdre! Deirdre!” His voice died in the crashing of the rain, which pounded down like a hammer on the ground. “Deirdre!” He could not see two paces ahead, but he urged his skittish horse on, angrily, fearfully calling her name.

  The horse stumbled into a narrow ravine and Roman was almost pitched from his seat. He dismounted to pull and prod the edgy animal back onto somewhat solid ground, then stopped to get his breath while rivers ran down his hair and face. It was useless to search like this. He needed help. What if she . . . ? He refused to think further, but remounted the snorting horse to head back to the palace.

  He was shaking when he finally rode through the gates. But he did not take time to change before rushing to the Surchatain’s chambers. “Galapos! She’s gone! She took on a rider at the lake and rode away from the palace—I lost the tracks in the rain. We must gather a unit to search for her,” he finished, panting. Puddles gathered at his feet on the woven rug.

  Galapos and Basil stared at him and each other. Galapos glanced out the window. All that was visible outside was an impenetrable blanket of rain. “You say you lost her trail . . . and she was not alone,” he murmured. Roman nodded, wiping water from his face with a soaked sleeve.

  “Then we must assume she has found shelter elsewhere for now,” Galapos said carefully. Basil nodded.

  Roman stiffened. “We must search for her. Now.”