Stone of Help (Annals of Lystra)

by Robin Hardy

  Then Kam remembered his orders. He rose and quietly slipped from the milling crowd. He slid unnoticed through the fence, retrieved his horse from the stables of Diamond’s Head inn, and rode like a madman out of the city gates.

  Within the palace, Sheva bade all her guests back into the dining hall to finish their meal. Passing Deirdre, she looked over the pale, frightened girl and said contemptuously, “You have your freedom. Now get out of my palace.”

  Deirdre flung herself into the courtyard. The guests passing her stared and Brude spat. The last one to pass her was Sevter. His face conveyed his wretched helplessness and grief, then he, too, returned with heavy steps to the dining hall.

  Alone beside the gallows, Deirdre threw herself on the ground and began to weep. But then she had another thought. Galapos had spent his life to free her; it must not be in vain. She jumped upright and ran from the courtyard into the kitchen. “Bettina—!”

  “Goldie, what happened out there? Who was hanged?”

  “Bettina, if I die today, promise me you will care for Arund!”

  “Goldie!”

  “Will you take care of him?” Deirdre demanded.

  “Yes, but—”

  “Good. Now tell me where Caranoe’s quarters are.”

  “Goldie!”

  “Where is his room?” Deirdre shouted, shaking her.

  A servant who had been listening interrupted, “I’m taking his dinner to him there. Follow me.” The girl picked up a tray of roast quail and left the kitchen. Deirdre followed her up stone stairs and down a passageway to a door.

  The servant knocked, entered with the tray, and came out empty-handed a moment later. “He’s in there, and he doesn’t look so sick to me,” she whispered in passing Deirdre.

  Standing in the corridor, Deirdre shoved the bill of freedom into her sash and tried to think. Lord, what do I do? How do I do this? She took a long breath and knocked on the door.

  “Enter!” His voice sounded muffled. She opened the door and walked into his chambers.

  Caranoe was standing fully dressed and armed in the center of the room, devouring the bird with one hand. When he saw her, the surprise on his face gave way quickly to a leer. “So you changed your mind? Smart girl,” he mumbled around a mouthful.

  “No, Caranoe,” she said. “I have come for the key to the chains.”

  At this assertion, he burst into roaring laughter. But only for a moment. Suddenly he gagged and grabbed his throat. He spat out his mouthful but something was caught. Deirdre watched in shock as he reeled, fingers digging deep in his mouth while he fell to the floor, choking. Soon he lay motionless, hands still clutching at his throat.

  When she could make herself move, she reached shaking hands toward him, pulling from his tunic a golden chain bearing an ugly iron key. Grasping it tightly, she ran from the room, down the passage and stairs, through the courtyard, and across the footbridge into the fields. Finished for the day, the slaves had been locked into their house for the night. Even now she could not help but notice that the setting sun had colored the palace a blood red.

  She fell at the northwest corner of the field house and pounded on the boards. A plank popped open, and she shoved the key in to Nihl. “Free yourselves, then come to my aid in the dining hall!” she gasped.

  “Wait for us!” he urged.

  “No—just come as soon as you are able!” She was on her feet again, running back to the palace. She stopped at the courtyard entrance only because she was too winded to run a step farther. Gaining her breath took only a moment, however. She was delirious with courage, impelled to see her actions through to the end.

  Brushing aside servants and guards, she walked into the dining hall where Sheva and her court were still seated. The conversation hushed as all eyes looked toward the redeemed slave. Deirdre announced, “Sheva, I have come to call you to account for the murder of my father, Galapos.”

  The statement shook Sheva herself. Before she could respond, Lord Troyce stood. “I also, Sheva, renounce your actions as reprehensible and criminal. I will no longer serve you.” He walked the length of the table to stand by Deirdre.

  At this point Sevter rose. “I am with you also, Chataine Deirdre.”

  As he went to Deirdre’s side, Sheva bolted up in panic or fury. “Traitors! Traitors!” she screamed. “I am—” At once soldiers sprang from every doorway, slashing their swords. Sheva was the first to fall.

  Neither Sevter nor Troyce was armed. But before a soldier could reach them, the three were surrounded by a wall of slaves who appeared carrying swords, clubs, and even tools for weapons. As more and more slaves poured into the hall, the soldiers backed off from them to fight against Sheva’s bodyguard instead.

  The tower alarm sounded. Deirdre suddenly realized there was fighting in the kitchen. “Nihl!” she shouted. He was right beside her. “Save Bettina and the baby in the kitchen!”

  He motioned, and several slaves dispatched themselves as a band to the kitchen. In moments they returned, herding a large group of panicky servants. Bettina rushed to Deirdre, handing her a screaming Arund.

  They stood in a tight group, watching as Sheva’s guards and Caranoe’s rebels battled each other. It was a wicked, confusing fight, for the two sides wore identical uniforms and could not be certain in the frenzy who was friend or foe. So they killed each other without discretion, too inflamed or afraid to stop.

  The moment came when there was only a handful of soldiers left alive and fighting in the great hall. Suddenly a spirit of sanity seemed to return to them, and they paused with lifted swords to stare at each other. Then several dropped their swords and ran. Only four soldiers remained, blank-faced and gasping.

  Slowly, one of them turned toward Deirdre and her retinue of slaves. Dragging his sword, the soldier approached her and dropped to his knees. “Chataine,” he said miserably, “I have no choice but to beg service under you. If you will not have me, I beg you to deliver me swiftly to death. But if you let me live, I swear my life in allegiance to you.”

  Deirdre’s heart broke at the despair in his voice. “I accept your offer of allegiance, and I promise you will come to know pride in your service,” she answered. He gazed up at her in wonderment. Promptly the other three soldiers offered their allegiance, which she also accepted.

  At this point, Troyce turned toward Deirdre and sank to his knees. “My lady,” he began, “I have thrown away all honor and title I ever possessed, and have no more to offer you now than one of the slaves who stands behind you. But if you can accept such a foolish administrator into your service, I will serve you and God to the end of my days, as did your father Galapos.”

  Deirdre’s eyes misted and she felt suddenly drained. “You may come with me, Troyce.”

  “You’ll take me also, won’t you, Deirdre?” It was Sevter.

  “You will oversee all household activity at the palace,” Deirdre said warmly.

  “You have an army to command,” Nihl said to her, gesturing to the hundreds of slaves who now filled the hall and courtyard.

  “Yes,” she said eagerly. “Nihl, get them bathed and clothed and fed. Instruct them to take from the palace all the food and livestock they can handle. We’ll need it all when we get to Westford—”

  Westford! Roman! The thought of seeing him again—and her baby!—made her spirit soar in joy.

  There was a rustle in the crowd around her. It parted, and the kitchen mistress came before her and fell at her feet. “My—my lady,” she faltered, and Deirdre looked down at her.

  “What do you want?”

  “If you could find it within your heart—to take me also—I will serve in the lowest place on your kitchen staff—”

  Deirdre sighed. “I wouldn’t presume to run a kitchen without you—what is your name, by the by?”

  “Merry, my lady,” she answered, raising her face.

  “Merry!” Deirdre and Bettina turned to each other, bursting into laughter. Composing herself, Deirdre said, “You may h
ave charge of the kitchen, Merry, if you swear not to slay your staff.”

  “Oh, I swear, my lady,” she vowed in dead seriousness.

  Deirdre laughed again, shaking her head. Thoughts of Roman crowded out every other thought. “Troyce, how soon can we reach Westford if we leave tonight?”

  “My lady,” he answered carefully, “in this cold, we should wait until morning to travel. Then it will take two—well, three days, if the weather is calm. Is there a lord who awaits you?”

  “Yes.” It came out with such intensity. “He does not know it yet, but he is the Surchatain.”

  Deirdre bathed that night in Sheva’s bath, and dressed in Sheva’s robes. She bent over Arund, snuggled in his box, now lined with clean quilts. Then she nestled herself between the downy covers of Sheva’s bed.

  Warm and grateful, she began to ponder the events of her deliverance, and Galapos’ costly sacrifice. “Oh, Galapos—father—” she murmured in new grief and wonder. “How could you have done that for me? Am I worth such a price to you?” As she drifted to sleep, the answer came with conviction: The simple fact that he had paid it made her worth such a price.

  Chapter 20

  Early in the glistening morning Deirdre met Troyce, Sevter and Nihl at the palace gates. They had readied Sheva’s own horse for Deirdre, and she mounted, marveling, “How different is my going out from my coming in!” She wore Sheva’s velvets, her fur cloak and hood. Sevter handed Arund up to her, and from her saddle she looked on the rest of the assembly.

  The slaves—soldiers, now—were arranging themselves in ranks for travel. Dressed appropriately in uniforms and cloaks, each carried a pack and a weapon. Several had taken charge of driving the livestock. A number rode horses—among them, Nihl.

  Deirdre remarked to him, “Your men are so orderly and disciplined! How can that be? I was led to believe that if you were ever unchained, you would wreak havoc.”

  Nihl smiled grimly. “You misunderstand us, Chataine Deirdre. Our chains did not make us animals. No—they made us willing to learn discipline from Josef. The men have agreed to obey me as their leader. But more,” he said, drawing a bundle from his coat, “God has avenged us, as He said.” Nihl held up the bundle so she could see it was Josef’s Scriptures.

  As Deirdre stared at him in admiration, her eye was caught by a tall mound of ordered stones. Several former slaves were cooperatively lifting a large, rounded rock to top the pile. It stood beside the entrance of the palace gates like a monument. “What is that?” she pointed.

  “That is the stone of help, which we have raised as the prophet Samuel did. For the Lord has helped us, also.”

  “Yes,” she murmured, “and in ways I could never foresee. . . .”

  Troyce addressed her: “As my lady is anxious to be home, if we march in a straight northwesterly path, we may see Westford by the third day.”

  Deirdre began to eagerly assent when the memory of a prayer she had once prayed seized her: Lord, save the children. . . . “No,” she said slowly. “We can’t. We must ride through Bresen.”

  “Why?” Troyce frowned. “That will mean another day of travel.”

  “You’ll see. Nihl, we’ll need the service of your soldiers,” she said. He nodded in response. Thus the caravan of hundreds of soldiers and servants set out behind Deirdre, Troyce, Nihl, and Sevter.

  As they approached the township, Deirdre stiffened to see a mob forming along the thoroughfare ahead. Apparently word of the Surchataine’s death preceded them. She shifted anxiously toward Nihl. “Must we fight the townspeople now?”

  “I don’t think it,” he said. “Look again.”

  Sure enough, the shouts she heard were actually cheers, and the mob were merchants and their families loaded up, ready to join the caravan. With the palace at Diamond’s Head being vacated—for a time, at least—there would be no more royal purchases and no organized army to defend the township. So many of the people were game for settling in Westford.

  Deirdre waved, smiling, and they hailed her in response. The vanguard reached the deserted sentry posts at the great wall and found the gates standing open. As far as Deirdre knew, they were never shut again.

  The day was favorable for traveling. The hazy February sun came out of hiding to warm them a little. The clouds opened in great blue gaps and the wind blew lightly from the Sea.

  For a large company, many on foot, they made good time. The expectation of a new life drove them on with laughter and songs all through the day, even when they grew weary and slowed their pace.

  The first village they came to appeared deserted. But as the army passed through with their sheep and crated chickens and cartloads of playing children, curious villagers came out of hiding to look. When they gleaned the story from some of the travelers, many hastened back to their huts to gather their families and go. “I wonder why any would stay,” Deirdre mused.

  Sevter heard her. “The ones who are joining us have nothing to lose—no homes, no land. What I wonder is, how long those who stay will have them when it becomes known there is no longer any army here to protect them.”

  Through the day they passed a number of villages, and the scene was repeated with little variation. The caravan grew each time.

  Toward dusk they stopped to make camp in the forest. Again, Deirdre marveled at the orderly manner in which the new soldiers divided themselves among the necessary tasks. She caught herself thinking, Galapos will love an army already so disciplined—then she remembered why they were all free.

  The men with her expressed alarm when they found her off alone, weeping. “Chataine Deirdre.” Nihl touched her shoulder in concern. “What hurts you?” Sevter and Troyce came up behind him.

  She answered in a moan, “Nihl, did you know my father gave his life to free me, and all of you?”

  “I heard something of the hanging,” he said carefully.

  Deirdre straightened in a resolve to be callously truthful with respect to the whole story. She inhaled deeply, then began to relate the facts of her background—how she had lived in the midst of abundance and love, but through petty spite got lured away from her husband’s protection. She told about giving birth in the cave, only to be taken as a slave: “I was sold to a renegade, who sold me to a trader in Bresen, who sold me to Lord Troyce,” she said. Nihl looked at Troyce, and the administrator glanced away in discomfort.

  Unaware, Deirdre continued, “He took me to Diamond’s Head and placed me under Sevter in the room with Old Josef.” She paused to reach appreciatively toward Sevter, who leaped forward to take her hand. “Sevter brought me a starving baby—Bettina holds him for me now—and Josef told me he had prayed for a nursemaid so the baby would live. I learned also that Josef served the field slaves—” nodding toward Nihl.

  “Josef told me you were Polonti, and he agonized for your freedom. But what is more, I realized that my beloved husband is half Polonti—one of you!” Nihl’s eyes widened. “After Josef’s death, I knew I must somehow free you. I had no idea how.

  “But yesterday, as I entered the banquet hall to serve the table, I saw my father Galapos sitting as Sheva’s guest! I thought he didn’t recognize me—but he did, and cleverly asked Sheva if he might buy me. She told him yes, but at the cost of his life. And—he agreed! He consented. But he made her have written a bill of freedom—” She drew it out of her belt and held it out to Nihl before remembering that he could not read it.

  Deirdre continued quietly, “Then Sheva hanged him. It was horrible—they didn’t even cover his head. And Sheva ordered me out of the palace. I wanted to throw myself off the cliffs where they had thrown his body, but then I thought of you—Roman’s kindred. I ran back into the kitchen and followed a serving girl up to Caranoe’s room. Strangely, he had said he was ill, but in his room he stood dressed and armed as he ate.” She did not notice Troyce’s face tighten.

  “At any rate, I asked him for the key to the chains, and he started laughing at me. But a bone got caught in his throat and choked hi
m to death. I took the key from his body and ran to the field house, where I slipped it to you. The rest you all know.”

  They sat silently mulling over the chain of circumstances that had led to their release. “I don’t understand, though,” added Deirdre, “why the soldiers fought each other and not us, nor why they killed Sheva.”

  “That was Caranoe’s doing,” Troyce said heavily. “I knew he was plotting rebellion, but I did not realize he had gathered enough malcontents to carry it out so quickly.” In the weight of his pause Deirdre began to quake, recognizing how precisely the events had dovetailed between the fire of Sheva and the poison of Caranoe to the salvation of herself and those with her.

  Sevter said, “Josef was right, in teaching the things of God. Every prayer he prayed was answered to the good. He was right.”

  Deirdre asked, “But Nihl—how did you come to be enslaved?”

  He answered, “I was, in Polontis, leader of a band of hunters called the Forty. We heard of Tremaine—that he wished to conquer the Continent. So, too quickly, we gathered ourselves and traveled to Diamond’s Head to join with Goerge in resisting him. We spoke to Sheva, not knowing that Savin was then warring at Tremaine’s side. She seized us and put us in prison, but then thought we should be made to help in the harvest. As we are stronger than most of you southerners and used to hard labor, we suited her. She demanded more Polonti as slaves. Traders gathered up the unwary Polonti in the countryside like animals—”

  “—And forced them to work her fields,” Deirdre ended.

  “Those who refused were hanged from the field house rafters as an example,” Nihl continued. “Yet many chose this rather than slavery, until Caranoe made them suffer torture and starvation instead of a merciful hanging.

  “But he blundered. He put Josef over us. Josef cared for us with such heart that just the sight of him coming in the morning made us able to work through one more day. And when he spoke comfort to us, we listened. He told us of a Lord in heaven who knew of our suffering and had died to free us. We chose to believe him. We staked our lives on the truth of his words.”