by A. M. Manay
Silas shivered, then added, “If anyone ever finds out whose baby that is, her life is forfeit. And her alternate claim to the throne is a threat to peace.”
“She won’t live more than a few days, so that hardly matters,” Edmun muttered.
Poll growled in reply.
“You don’t want to let me kill the child. So what the hell do we do with her, then?” Edmun cried, throwing up his hands.
“I’ll raise ‘er. Ye come with me to the Teeth. We find a village that needs a priest and a blacksmith,” Poll proposed. “We tell her we found her left in the woods by some warrior nun who got knocked up. She don’t ever need to know.”
“Rischar may consider a dotage in the Teeth sufficient punishment for my sins, and find the cost too high to try to root me out,” Edmun allowed. “That part’s not a terrible idea, Poll.” Edmun closed his eyes, then opened them again and began to lay out a plan.
“Silas, you will bring my sister’s head to the king. Collect the bounty. Then leave the country for a few years. Finish your education at the university in Estany.”
“I don’t want the money,” Silas protested.
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t care what my sister’s murderer wants!” Edmun snapped. “I want you to position yourself to be able to return as a courtier someday. This war has cost Bryn most of a generation of talent. If the country has any hope of surviving, Rischar will need a man like you. You give him Alissa’s head, it will cement his trust in you. Gods know that I’ll never be able to set foot in the City again. You’re the next best alternative. Left to his own devices, my brother will stand idly by while the lords carve the country up, or it’ll be lost to invasion from Gerne.
“You claim you want peace, Silas, that you’re weary of war? Then you have to serve the kingdom. That’s how we get peace. That is your penance. Or do you wish to have the murder you just committed added to your tally of pointless sins?”
Silas’s eyes landed on Alissa’s corpse.
“I’m sorry, Edmun,” Silas whispered. “She said the war wouldn’t stop as long as she lived, and she told me to kill the baby so she could keep on fighting, and I just—”
A long silence followed when the boy could not continue.
“Someone had to do it,” Edmun finally admitted, voice thick with unshed tears. “You spared me the burden, child.”
At that, Silas began to sob. Through his tears, he heard Poll speak.
“I’m going to call ye Shiloh, little one. ‘Twas me mother’s name.”
***
The ordeal of his wife’s trial and execution behind him at last, King Rischar seemed in the mood to celebrate. That was fine by Hatch. It was a relief to have nothing more pressing than a tournament and a summer progress to arrange. Orchestrating executions was unpleasant work, even for the likes of him.
And a happy king was much more pleasant to serve. In the throes of his infatuation with Penn, he was all smiles and jokes, bestowing favors left and right to his favorites.
Among the gifts was a title for his sweetheart. Penn was now a Baroness with a handsome estate on the southern edge of the Wood. It had belonged to one of the executed brothers Jennin.
And, for a change, Hatch approved of his king’s choice of woman. While he would have liked to arrange an alliance with Estany or Vreeland, at least Penn was unlikely to cause any sort of trouble. She was clever and kind and appealed to the better angels of the king’s nature. Quite frankly, as far as Hatch was concerned, the wedding couldn't come soon enough.
And soon it would be, Silas expected, as, unlike some of the king’s other women, Penn was too proper to leap into the king’s bed without benefit of wedlock. A few chaste kisses in the garden were all Rischar had been able to wheedle from his turtledove, and, infatuated or not, there was only so long the king would remain patient. Hatch already had the lawyers working on a marriage contract.
“We’ll announce the marriage at the tournament,” Rischar told his deputy. “Then we can present dear Penn to her people when we are on progress.”
“An excellent notion, Your Grace,” Hatch agreed. “I will have the lawyers confer with your bride’s lord uncle and have the queen’s apartments prepared.”
“Splendid, splendid,” his grace declared, then clapped Hatch on the back. “How go the plans for the jousting?”
“We have a dozen men prepared to give good sport, Your Grace,” Hatch reported. Please don’t say you want to joust, for the love of the Gods. That’s all we need is for you to get hurt, he silently begged.
“Do you think we should involve the girl?” Rischar mused aloud.
“Shiloh?” Hatch asked, startled at the suggestion.
“Of course. Who else, Penny?” Rischar laughed.
“Lady Penn might have trouble enjoying the jousting if she has to worry about her friend’s safety, Your Grace,” Hatch replied. “And I fear that Shiloh could win the day, and thereby make enemies amongst the noblemen that she can ill afford.”
“That would be unfortunate,” Rischar acknowledged. “Still,” the king grinned, “Wouldn’t you laugh to see it? All my popinjays taken down a peg or two?”
Hatch tried unsuccessfully to suppress a smile. He’d forgotten how charming Rischar could be when he was happy. “I likely would, Your Grace,” he confessed.
“Have her joust with Jaym, in the junior exhibition,” the king suggested. “I’ve just made my son a knight of St. Stex, and he won’t take it personally if Shiloh bests him. He’s half sweet on her, I think,” he laughed, then shook his head.
“If you insist, my liege, I will arrange it,” Hatch said in surrender. Jonn is going to kill me.
“Have you made progress on the house I want to give her up north?” Rischar asked.
“Yes, I’ve just gotten hold of the deed,” Silas replied. “I’ve sent some men to get it into good repair.”
“Excellent. I have something else to discuss with you,” Rischar announced, eyes twinkling. Silas cocked his head, running over his mental list of open issues, wondering if Rischar had somehow managed to surprise him.
The king pulled a roll of parchment from his pocket. “A gift for my most reliable servant,” the king proclaimed, then handed the document to Hatch, who accepted it with a deep bow. “See that you deliver it promptly. Go on, read it.”
Hatch’s eyes flew over the page, and he dropped to his knees. “Your Grace is too generous,” he protested once he had recovered the power of speech.
Rischar smiled broadly. “The Gods know you’ve earned my favor, Silas. That’s more than I can say for some.” The king placed his hand on Silas’s head in blessing. “And you did tell me I needed someone I could trust on that border with Gerne. Now on your feet, my good lord, and get back to work. Ha!” Rischar exclaimed. He clapped Silas on the back again, looking pleased as punch to have pulled one over on his spymaster.
Silas Hatch, Baron of Northgate, Lord of the Frontier, Silas repeated to himself as he walked back toward his office.
It does have a nice ring to it.
***
“I hear congratulations are in order, my lord,” Shiloh observed, greeting Hatch with a smile and a little curtsey.
“You heard, did you?” he replied, bemused.
“Indeed. Everyone has heard,” Shiloh laughed.
“Did you hear about your new house up north?” he replied, unable to suppress a smile.
“My what?” she asked, clapping a hand over her mouth.
“He’s giving you an estate. A small one, but it should bring you some income, and if you ever need the money, you could sell it,” Hatch confirmed. “I’m still working on the paperwork. Pretend to be surprised when he tells you.”
“Oh, my,” she breathed. “I can’t believe it.” Shiloh turned the conversation back to him. “Did you know it was coming, your title? Rumor has it you fell to your knees as if you’d had a stroke.”
Silas shook his head. “One
of my lawyers is mute. His grace got that one to draw up the declaration. I thought I might receive a small estate, perhaps upon the king’s marriage. But to chop off half of Redwood’s land and give it to a bastard?” He shook his head again. “I would not have advised it.”
“Well, I suppose it will send a message to the other lords of the realm,” Shiloh acknowledged.
Silas snorted. “They are none too pleased.”
Shiloh grinned. “I bet they’re not.”
“They’re calling it ‘blood land,’ saying I bought it with the executions,” Silas confessed.
She looked up at him in sympathy. “To be fair to you, my lord,” Shiloh said at last, “all land is paid for in blood. Isn’t it, when you get right down to it?”
***
Shiloh sat across from Daved. They were the only people in the cavernous library, save the new librarian, who was holed up in his office, struggling to make heads or tails of his late predecessor’s filing system.
“His grace took half my land and gave it to Hatch,” Daved said softly. “More than half. They’re naming the new province ‘the Frontier.’”
“I know,” she replied. “Does it grieve you?”
“Not much,” Daved admitted. “Not compared to other things. It’s almost a relief, in a way, to not have to be responsible for guarding that border. I just turned thirteen, for heaven’s sake, with no brothers nor uncles to help me. Besides, it’s half Deadlands up there anyway. Serves him right. Nothing will grow.” The boy Lord Redwood heaved a sigh. “Sometimes it frightens me, how much I hate Silas Hatch,” he confessed, then caught himself. “I shouldn’t say that. I know he’s your friend.”
Shiloh smiled sadly. “I don’t know if he is anybody’s friend. And you have better reason to hate him than most. Truly, though, I don’t think he does the things he does out of malice. And I think he would say that it is far better for you to hate Silas Hatch than to hate your sovereign.”
“The kicker, of course, is that I owe him, that I ought to be grateful to the man. Hatch is the reason I’m still breathing. Hatch is the reason I’m not a pauper,” Daved spat.
Shiloh wished she could tell him of her own reasons for having mixed feelings about the newly made baron, but she knew it would be foolish to share them.
“I imagine that must be infuriating,” she said instead. Yearning for a change of subject, she asked him, “Are you jousting in the tournament next week?”
Daved shook his head glumly. “No, I’m not ready. Six months without riding a horse has left me weak and clumsy as hell. And I grew a foot while I was locked up. It’s queered my aim. Everyone else is competing, of course. All the other young noblemen. Not that they talk to me much, even though I’m back in the king’s privy chamber.”
Shiloh winced. She had hoped to cheer her friend, not to make him feel even worse. She would talk to Jaym, the king’s bastard, she decided. He was a kind boy. Maybe he could make a show of befriending Daved, get him back into the social order of the other lordlings.
“The king is insisting that I joust with Jaym in the tournament,” she confessed. “Do you think I should throw the match?”
Daved shook his head. “No, give them good sport. He won’t mind.”
“It’ll just be in the exhibition rounds. I won’t have to advance to fight the noblemen,” she shared.
“That’s good. Cause Kepler would never forgive you after you knocked him into the dirt, which you would,” Daved laughed.
“You should get him a gift. The king, I mean, to give to him during the tournament or at the wedding,” Shiloh mused aloud. “Something that would make him smile.”
Daved thought for a moment. “My father had a sword the king has always remarked upon. It was forged in Dessica, with a gold inlay, by some famous dead smithy who only made five of them, or something. And I don’t really want to keep it, even though it’s worth a fortune. It makes me sad to even look at it.”
Shiloh nodded. “That could work. You’ll have to write a heartwarming letter to go with it. Lay it on thick. You know how sentimental his grace can be.”
“Gods help me, you’re right,” he sighed. “I should get something for Lady Penn, too,” Daved proposed. “Maybe something of my mother’s. I’ll send for one of her jewelry boxes. What are you going to get them?”
Her mouth twisted as she tried to decide if she should take Daved into her confidence. Finally, she replied, “The Deadlands. I’m going to fix the Deadlands for him.”
Daved’s eyes grew wide. “You’re going to do what?”
“I figured out a way to fix the soil in the Deadlands, so plants can grow again,” she confessed. “Please don’t tell anyone. It’s still a secret.”
“Of course,” he agreed. “It works? You’re sure?”
Shiloh nodded. “I’ve tried it on pots of earth first. Then, on the journey with Princess Esta, we rode across the huge patch of Deadlands down south. I healed an acre of it in a couple of minutes.”
“Elder’s balls,” Daved breathed, then clapped a hand over his mouth. Shiloh giggled.
“I figure that project should keep me out of trouble for a few years,” she concluded.
Daved shook his head. “You’d better fix Hatch’s land last,” he declared. “Go real slow.”
Shiloh snorted a laugh, then turned serious again. “It will get easier,” she said softly. “Time will pass. The pain will be less sharp. You will still miss them, but it won’t be the first thought you have when you wake up in the morning.”
Daved nodded, but his face said that he did not believe her.
***
Shiloh was still breathing heavily when she resumed her place in the stands after her joust with Jaym. She had beaten him soundly, but they had put on a good show first. She had to admit that she had found the cheers gratifying.
“Well done, my dear girl,” the king called out to her as she climbed to take her seat next to Penn.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she replied with a bow. She’d decided that a curtsey would look strange in her fighting clothes.
“Yeah, and thanks for not embarrassing me too much,” the king’s bastard added good-naturedly, running up the stairs behind her, his helmet still under his arm, his sweaty hair plastered to his head. Everyone who heard him laughed.
The king rose to his feet and gave his hand to Penn. It was time to announce the engagement. The audience cheered happily at the news, as much as it had been expected. However, rather than taking his seat after basking in the adoration, the king began making his way down to the tournament field.
“Oh, Maiden’s blood,” Hatch muttered from the row below Shiloh’s seat.
She bent down to speak into his ear. “His grace means to joust?” she asked him, eyebrows furrowed.
“So it seems,” he acknowledged.
“Isn’t he a little old for that sort of thing?” she whispered.
“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Hatch cautioned.
Penn clutched at Shiloh’s arm. “Do you think he’ll be all right?” she whispered nervously to her friend.
“Of course, of course,” Shiloh assured her. “Look, he’s going against your uncle.” The two men were getting into their gear, laughing together. “They’re the same age, and your uncle will be careful.”
Penn nodded and swallowed. When the king turned her way, she pasted on a teary smile and waved her handkerchief.
Hatch looked as though he wanted to watch through his fingers as the men took to their mounts. Shiloh clutched her prayer beads in her pocket. The men each got a few good hexes in and managed to stay in the saddle. After a few passes, Rischar landed a solid strike, and the Lord of the Gate went down.
“I’m fine,” Penn’s uncle called out from the dirt, laughing. “More fun than I’ve had in years.”
The king helped him to his feet, clapping him happily on the shoulder. Shiloh saw Hatch relax now that the danger had passed. Lord Kepler
and one of his friends began preparing for their round.
The king and Lord Rockmore laughed together as they removed their gear. Lord Kepler and his opponent mounted their horses and prepared to begin. On their first pass, Kepler’s curse went wide. Gasps of horror rose up as the glowing bolt of red shot toward Rischar, whose back was turned. Hatch leapt to his feet and cast a ward just in time to protect the king. The hex hit the ward with a flash of red light and dissipated.
Lord Kepler reined in his horse, leapt from his back, and knelt before Rischar. “Your Grace, my most abject apologies. I must have slipped in the saddle.”
Rischar merely laughed and hauled the young man to his feet. “Not to worry, Jasin! The nature of a joust, after all. No harm done. Why, I remember once, my father was watching . . .”
As the king continued his tale, Shiloh took a deep breath and patted Penn’s knee.
“A little more excitement than you were hoping for, today, huh?” Shiloh asked her friend gently.
“I had no idea being the king’s bride would be so frightening all of the time,” Penn confessed.
Shiloh thought of Zina, and of Mirin.
“I’m sure it gets easier,” she lied.
Chapter 20
A Strange Mix of Good and Terrible
Silas sat in the pavilion down in the valley where male visitors to Mt. Tarwin were obliged to wait. Most of them were accompanying their female relatives. Silas, however, awaited a report from the Mother Superior’s messenger. He had been waiting for said report for three days, after a ten-day journey from the other end of Bryn.
One of the monks entered, a young one, and Hatch’s head popped up out of the book he was reading for the fourth time. She gave him a smile as though she had seen it, but her eyes were covered with thick scales.