With a deep-carved frown on her face, Widow Craymon listened to the murmurings as the women spoke of the wonder of the queen coming among them.
She became irritated when several women elbowed their way to the front. But mostly she was angered by the stooped old hag who used her walking stick to push the others out of the way.
Old Didra’s once-brilliant eyes were dull from the afflictions she endured daily. The hands that had once been capable of creating the most delicate beadwork were now swollen and malformed. With an awkward gait, she slowly progressed to the fountain.
Didra was reputed to be wise; it was said she had ‘the eye’ and could see into the future. She knew about herbs and spices, and made love potions and oils to cure a sour stomach. But Widow Craymon did not believe anything that was said about the old woman except that she was cracked. The widow turned her attention back to the young queen. She was not so ready to believe, as most of her neighbors did, that this queen would help them in their plight.
“It could be that her majesty has heard of our suffering and is coming to help us,” one of the women said hopefully.
“She is so young—what can she know of suffering?” Widow Craymon stated huffily. “Many of you still weep for your dead children—can she bring them back to life?”
“She has come to bring us hope,” another intoned.
Widow Craymon shook her head. “I don’t know why she is here, but it will be to her benefit, not ours.”
“Aye,” said a young wife who had not seen her husband since the last season and was easily swayed by the widow’s harsh judgment. “She marries our good Count Ashtyn, but it is whispered she did not take him to her bed before she sent him off to battle. It is a wife’s duty to please her husband, be she queen or otherwise.”
Old Didra held up her hand for silence. “I have read the constellations and consulted the bones, and seen a vision: I have seen peace and prosperity brought back to our island. I saw Queen Thalia holding our banner high—I have seen a day without war, and I have seen our fighting men arriving home to remain. Our fishermen will launch their boats instead of wielding a sword, our farmers will till the soil, and we will know hunger no more. And I saw the hawks return!”
“Nay,” came a cry from one of the women. “The hawks have deserted us and will never return. We are cursed!”
Didra was frightening to look upon—her gray hair was frizzed in clusters about her face. She had only one good eye, and it was bright blue and piercing—the other eye was smoky-colored. “Listen well to me, for I speak the truth.”
“How can that be?” Widow Craymon scoffed. “Even if the war ended today, there would be no prosperity.”
Old Didra pointed a crooked finger at the widow. “It will come—the bones do not lie, and stars always reveal the truth if you are gifted enough to see what they foretell. The young queen’s heart bleeds for us; you will see this for yourself.”
“Bah,” Widow Craymon replied in anger. “I’ll believe that when she walks among us and shares our meager repast.”
The queen drew near, and in that moment even Widow Craymon’s eyes widened in awe. Lord Parinez rode beside the queen, and the palace guards rode behind them.
“Let us see if she even dismounts her horse,” the widow stated snappishly.
“Seeing her this close, I see she is younger than I,” said a bride with her mouth agape. “But why is she here?”
“All is just as I predicted,” old Didra stated smugly, knowing the skeptics would now be forced to admit her bones had predicted true. “The queen will start helping with small matters, but her ripple shall be felt all the way to Egypt, and she will carry us forward with her glory!”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Thalia dismounted and removed her cloak, tossing it across her saddle. She wore a plain blue linen shift with a matching sash. Her hair hung down her back and was unadorned. She wanted the women of Bal Forea to believe she was one of them—for in her heart she was beginning to feel she was.
As usual, Thalia tried to imagine what Lady Larania would do if faced with the same situation. Of course, her mother would start with the most important matters. And that was what Thalia must do.
Lord Parinez dipped his head to whisper so only the queen would hear: “You must allow the guards to accompany you.”
Thalia smiled up at him and shook her head. “Nay, I shall not. Those women look harmless to me. I want only to speak to them, ask them questions, and make suggestions. We cannot help them if we do not know the problems they face every day.”
“But, Majesty—”
“Good Lord Parinez, what I must do today you cannot help me with. You have important matters to attend at the palace. Leave me two guards, but have them remain with the horses. I will not intimidate these good citizens.”
“But Majesty, it is my duty to see to your safety.”
“I see none here who looks threatening.” Thalia glanced at each woman and passed over each one who looked at her with awe. She guided her steps to the woman whose light-blue eyes were filled with skepticism—that woman was the one she sought. Her mother had taught her one could learn more from a disgruntled person than from one who wants to please.
The women all went to their knees before Thalia. “Please rise,” she told them. “Today I am here as one of you. Let us talk and see what we can do about our troubles.”
The women watched in disbelief as the queen took the clay dipper that the whole community used, dipped it in the water, and took a drink.
Thalia hung the dipper back on the peg and spoke softly. “Tell me your names,” she said, going down a row of stunned Bal Forean women. She had always been good at remembering names, and she hoped she would be able to put a face to a name later on. At last she came to the skeptical woman and paused. “And what is your name, madame?”
“Majesty, I am called Craymon. My husband has been dead for five years, and my two sons died but a year ago.”
Thalia laid her hand on the woman’s shoulder, drawing a surprised gasp from the others. “I cannot begin to understand the grief you feel, Craymon. War makes mourners of us all, and I grieve for your loss.” She looked at the other women. “I know fear because I feel it for my husband, who has been gone for an entire full moon. At first I received daily reports from him. For the last week I have heard naught, and I am worried.”
The others stepped closer, wanting to say something, but they were still too much in awe.
“Craymon, will you help me?” Thalia asked. “Lord Parinez informed me of our most distressing problem. Let us try to put our heads together and find a solution. This is the way I see it … tell me if you agree.”
The widow dipped into a quick bow, but could not find her voice.
“You are an intelligent woman, Craymon; you have run your own kitchen, and that is no small matter. But put that aside for the moment and think past your own home to the needs of your neighbors. Let us stockpile what food we have, and, aye, I shall send what food I can from the palace kitchen. Let none cheat or hoard. We will live or die united, thinking of our men who face death to protect us. Let us be strong and do this for them.”
Widow Craymon’s eyes widened, and she could hardly grasp the fact that the queen wanted her opinion. The sweet little queen was so young, and Craymon lost her heart to her then and there. “Majesty, I will do whatever I can to help you.”
“First of all, take me to the place where the motherless children are quartered. Lord Parinez told me they are all housed together.”
“Aye, the poor little mites. They have no mother to hold them. We do what we can, but still they cry for their mothers.”
“I would like to put you in charge of matching these children with women who have lost their own. Would that be possible?”
Craymon nodded vigorously. “I can easily do that for you, Gracious Majesty. We have three suckling babes, and two women whose breasts are filled with milk.”
“I am grateful to you. Now please point out some of the w
omen whose husbands were fishermen. Surely, they have gained knowledge of the sea from their husbands.”
Later in the afternoon, Thalia sat among the women, a thin bowl of broth balanced on her knee. She drank from the clay bowl as if she was one of them. “Galah,” she said to the woman seated next to her, “since your husband was a fisherman longer than the others, will you help us? I’ll have some of the palace guards look at the boats and make certain they are seaworthy.”
Thalia’s gaze settled on the old woman who stared at her with her one good eye. “Didra, you said you live a long walk from the village. If we find you a cottage nearby, can you and two women of your choosing oversee the salting and drying of the fish and see that it is fairly distributed so none will go hungry?”
The wise old eye flickered the merest bit. “Aye, Gracious Majesty, none will go hungry while you sit on the throne of Bal Forea.”
“Let us hope not.” Thalia rose. “We must all help each other through these trying times.” She turned to Craymon, who had easily found women who were willing to take children into their homes. “I will provide you with a horse, and you shall come to me weekly and make your report. Cling to each other, show kindness to those who are not of your own family, for we are all citizens of Bal Forea, and we must help ease the worries of our fighting men.”
A loud cheer went up from the women, and when Thalia stood to leave, they bowed to her, this time more deeply and more respectfully than when she had arrived. The villagers fell silent as she mounted her horse and rode back toward the palace.
“I dare any country, large or small, to produce such a queen,” Widow Craymon stated with force. “There can be none wiser or sweeter than our good Queen Thalia.”
Heads nodded as they all agreed.
“She didn’t think herself too grand to eat with us,” Galah stated.
Didra smiled to herself. Their problems had not all been solved, but by coming among the women today, the young queen had taught them to work together. Didra watched the queen ride away, knowing the day would come when they would all have something to celebrate. The bones had told her something else that she was not ready to share with the others—nay, the others would not believe her anyway—the queen carried a child in her belly. What a joyous time it would be when the people learned there was going to be an heir to the throne of Bal Forea.
Lord Ramtat stood before Queen Cleopatra as she read the scroll. “Was this written by Thalia?”
“I recognize her hand, as does my mother.”
Cleopatra handed the scroll to Antony and turned her attention to her general. “It is hard to credit that our little Thalia is a queen in her own right. But on thinking about it, there was always something special about her.”
“As you read,” Ramtat said, “Bal Forea is in the heat of civil war. I would like permission to take my Badari and help in any way I can.”
Antony shook his head. “I have been studying the maps and have come to the conclusion that it will not be an easy task to gain the advantage. Bal Forea is an island of extreme mountainous terrain. I suspect that is the one reason Rome never attempted to conquer it. I will send my Seventh Legion with you if you like. They are accustomed to fighting on uneven terrain.”
“A legion will not be needed, but I will take Marcellus and those that serve under him.” Ramtat stared at Antony. “Do not think of taking the island for Rome’s gain.”
Cleopatra nodded. “I agree. But did you take note that Thalia said the people are hungry. Take four ships filled with grain and other stores. We must help our little Thalia in any way we can.”
“I am most grateful, my Queen,” Ramtat said, bowing. “And I know my sister will be, too.”
“Don’t be so grateful,” Cleopatra told him. “When their war is over, we shall have a new trading partner. I have been told that their mountains are filled with silver, and my treasury is low on that precious metal.”
Ramtat smiled and bowed out of the room. He had hoped Cleopatra would help the island, but as always, his queen had done more than was expected of her.
As he rode back toward the villa, he tried to picture his little sister as a queen. He recalled Adhaniá telling him how Thalia had been a pickpocket when she’d first come upon her on the streets of Rome. Deep laughter startled the man who rode beside Ramtat.
Cleopatra was right, there had always been something special about Thalia.
But a queen and a wife?
Ramtat frowned. Even if his sister was a queen, someone was going to answer for kidnaping her! And if they had forced her to marry against her will, he would see an end to that marriage.
Marcellus had already landed in Egypt, and if he knew his brother-in-law, he was readying his troops for all-out war. Even if Bal Forea had escaped the world’s notice for hundreds of years, its people were about to feel the combined might of Egypt and Rome.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ashtyn had been away for two phases of the full moon, and in all that time, there had hardly been a moment in the day when Thalia did not think of him.
Thalia was having her customary morning meeting with Lord Parinez when a mud-splattered messenger came rushing in with news that Prince Ashtyn would be arriving at any moment.
Unable to conceal her joy, Thalia leaped to her feet and rushed out of the chamber, leaving a smiling lord chamberlain hobbling after her. Rushing down the front steps of the palace, she paused halfway to the bottom, listening to the approaching riders.
And then he was there! Riding at the head of his men, dusty and weary, but he was safely home. He rode even with her and smiled, making Thalia’s heart sing.
Ashtyn dismounted and tossed the reins to one of his men, his eyes on his wife. “My Queen,” he said, bowing his head. “Forgive my appearance.” He made an attempt to dust the mud from his breastplate, but his eyes never left her face. “It’s good to see you in health.”
At that moment, Thalia was not a queen, but a young woman in love, and it was difficult to present a queenly stance when she wanted to throw herself into Ashtyn’s arms.
As he climbed the steps toward her, Thalia’s heart beat ecstatically. Their gazes met, and his silver-blue eyes held a promise of what was to come later.
“My husband, it is good to see you. I had short warning you were arriving.”
With a wide grin, he knelt before her and took her hand, lifting it to his lips. “What a welcome sight to find you waiting for me.”
Thalia had the feeling she was falling inside those compelling eyes of his. “Have you news for us, my lord?” she asked in a quivering voice, knowing all eyes were on the two of them.
For a long moment Ashtyn just looked at Thalia, his mouth curved into a smile. Then he waved at those gathered to watch the reunion, took Thalia’s elbow and led her into the palace, nodding for Lord Parinez to follow.
When they were situated in the small chamber, Lord Parinez motioned for the scribe to take down what was said.
Ashtyn removed his helmet, and his dark hair spilled over his shoulders. “I am the bearer of good tidings. We have retaken Resnene Pass, and the rebels who didn’t flee fell to their knees and begged to be allowed to serve the queen.”
Thalia dropped down onto a padded chair, her eyes on her husband’s face. “How many captured?” she asked.
“Over two hundred prisoners. Half that number fled, and twice that number were slain. We have the rebels on the run. Lord Sevilin knows by now he cannot win.”
Thalia stood, her white gown swirling around her. “How many men did we lose?”
“Fifty-two good men,” Ashtyn said sadly.
“Other than our losses, that is good news indeed.” Her gaze fell on her husband’s face. “What must be done now?”
Ashtyn wearily seated himself on a stool, his gaze going from his wife to the lord chamberlain. “A decision must be made. You must either pardon the prisoners or put them to death, My Queen.”
“What do you advise?” she asked.
&nbs
p; “I am merely general of your armies. You must decide the fate of these men.” Peering gravely at Lord Parinez for conformation, he asked, “Is that not so, Lord Chamberlain?”
Thalia saw the look they exchanged and knew at once she was being tested. She wavered in her decision. “Is there no third option—can they not be sent home and told to war no more?”
“Nay,” Lord Parinez stated. “They must either die or be bound to you by their word. There is no third choice.”
Thalia wished for Queen Cleopatra’s wisdom. “Where are they?”
Ashtyn shoved his hair out of his face. “Housed in the barracks for the moment under heavy guard.”
“Take me to them,” she stated unequivocally. “I would see these rebels for myself before I decide their fate.” Thalia was quaking inside, knowing she had the power of life or death over so many. It was a power she did not want. But it was she who would make the final decision.
* * *
In the outer courtyard, it took all Thalia’s willpower to look into the eyes of the kneeling rebels. The stench of them was unbearable. Many had wounds that needed tending, and some were swaying to stay erect. Pity hit her hard when she saw how young some of them were. One with a deep gash in his cheek was little more than a lad.
Despair filled her heart—now was the time to think what Queen Cleopatra would do in her place, and the answer came to her as clear as if the Egyptian queen had spoken to her. Seeing the fear in the prisoners’ eyes, Thalia realized they expected to die.
She raised her head, her eyes moving over each man. “If there be any among you willing to swear fealty to me, let them declare it now.”
For a long moment there was only stunned silence. Then a man, older than the others, struggled to his feet, his chains rattling on his wrists. “Aye, Gracious Majesty, you have my fealty, and I beg the right to return to my farm and live in peace.”
“You are a soldier,” she said in a clear voice, “and only my general husband has the right to give you leave to return to your farm, but you shall not die here today.” She looked at him, frowning. “Is your word to be trusted?”
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