by Robin Hardy
“Your directives!” Basil and Sevter stared at each other. “No, Surchatain,” murmured Sevter. “In all the upheaval, we . . . forgot. . . .” Roman sighed in disgust.
“What was it you directed?” Basil asked lamely.
“Among other things, that if conflicts arose between you, Avelon was to act as judge,” replied Roman. “And where is he?” Heads turned, looking for the holy man.
“Asleep, probably,” someone answered from the crowd, and there was a weak ripple of laughter.
Breathing out, Roman dismounted and delivered a rapid-fire string of orders: “Olynn, have the men dismantle the gallows tonight. Sevter, in the morning, you are to begin directing the repair of the gates. I want you to redesign them so that they’re not so easy to batter down. Clatus, return with your men to the outpost tonight. Basil, meet me in the library at sunrise. The rest of you—go back to bed.”
There was a rush and a jumble as the spectators did what they were told. Nihl, however, took Izana by the hand, and they went to awaken Brother Avelon out of a sound sleep for him to mumble a marriage blessing over them.
Chapter 18
After the brief refreshment of a few hours’ sleep, Roman sat in the library with the Counselor. The Surchatain pressed his fingers to his throbbing brow and said quietly, “Now tell me what happened here.”
Basil began with the day of the party’s departure, relating the steps he had taken to carry out Roman’s orders while sparring with Troyce over DuCange and the emissary from Qarqar. Basil made a point to tell him about the hidden gold at Hornbound. When Roman failed to register surprise, Basil wondered if somehow he already knew of it.
Then he told the Surchatain of his concern over Ariel’s safety, and his final act of removing Troyce from his position as administrator. Ashamedly, he also informed Roman of the financial discrepancies he had uncovered in the ledger of palace expenses. This was an area in which Basil had direct oversight of Troyce.
Roman listened without interruption as Basil finished, “Then when Troyce tried to hang me, and you arrived pounding on the gates, Sebastian shot me down. Some of the men were insisting that you stood at the gates, but there was such disorder—” he broke off, putting his head in his hands. “I don’t understand how such a situation could have developed.”
Roman tapped pensively on the desk. “Don’t blame yourself. I am ultimately responsible for what happens here. It seems I left to subdue trouble in Corona while ignoring it in my own palace.”
“I assume, then, that your mission was successful,” Basil said, anxious to change the subject.
“Yes, beyond anything I had expected. I will tell everyone at dinner what the Lord did there. For now, show me the judgments and transactions you completed while I was away.”
With great relief to be back in his normal administrative role, Basil brought out the books and laid them open before Roman.
Toward the end of a two-hour session, Roman straightened at a knock on the door. “Enter.”
Deirdre peered around the door. “Counselor—forgive me. Roman, I just learned something I must tell you.” He cocked his head, pointing to a chair across from Basil.
Deirdre crossed the room to sit and say, “Gusta told me all that happened after Troyce left them in the forest. She was found by a very poor widow who lives in a strange little shelter. The woman gave her and Ariel a bed for the night, then paid a peasant to drive them to the outpost. But the strangest thing is, the widow paid him from one of your money bags! He showed Gusta the bag—she is sure it had your imprint.”
Roman thought this over, then shook his head, unable to make any sense of it. Deirdre continued, “Remember the widow we met along the road to Corona? Didn’t you give her your money pouch?”
“Yes.” Roman startled in remembrance.
“I described her to Gusta. She thinks it was the same old woman! Gusta said she was living in wretched poverty—but apparently she gave the whole bag to the peasant in payment for carrying Gusta and Ariel.”
“She said it would come back to me,” he mused. “I wonder how she knew? Well, we cannot let that pass unrewarded. See who is standing outside.” Deirdre went to the door and opened it, motioning. A solemn-faced messenger stepped in, very erect.
“Summon Sebastian to me,” Roman ordered. The messenger saluted and hurried off.
“You’ll have no problems with discipline for some time,” muttered Basil.
“Sebastian is the one who shot you down from the gallows, isn’t he?” inquired Roman.
“Yes.”
“Then he’s the one I’ll use.” As they waited, Deirdre smoothed her fresh dress and studied Roman appreciatively. She was glad for his soldier’s self-discipline, so that he’d never get fat sitting behind a desk all the time. He glanced away, smiling at her transparency, and Basil found something on the floor that engrossed him.
The messenger came to the door with Sebastian. He was not big, as soldiers go, but he had sharp, intelligent features and a quick stride.
As Sebastian bowed, Roman said, “The Counselor tells me you are the one who saved him from the gallows.”
“Yes, sir. It wasn’t right to execute him like that, Surchatain,” he answered. “I had decided in my own mind not to let anyone be hanged unjustly, and I knew some others felt the same. We’re not the simple sheep Troyce thought, especially since the Commander had warned us to watch him. It was more a matter of finding proof that he was lying.”
“Good thought,” commended Roman. But Basil angrily reflected, You could have taken that stand before I was strung up. “In the future, however, I am sure the Counselor would appreciate your support before you build a gallows,” Roman added, and Basil startled. Sebastian inclined his head.
“Now,” Roman went on, “I have a task for you. The Chatain and his nurse-maid were given shelter by a widow living in the forest—”
“It was a little house built in a ravine, under some tree roots,” Deirdre interrupted excitedly. “Oh, excuse me,” she caught herself.
“As my lady says, this widow is living in a ravine. I want you to find her and bring her to me. Gusta will give you more details,” Roman said.
Sebastian bowed. “Consider it done, Surchatain.”
As he was leaving, the kitchen mistress appeared at the door. “Surchatain Roman and my lady—welcome home,” Merry said, bowing. “We’ve prepared a special midmorning meal that is ready for you now.”
At Deirdre’s smile, Merry appeared anxious to say more, but Roman stood. “Good. Basil, go down and be seated. Deirdre and I will be down directly.”
Basil closed the door behind him as Deirdre turned inquiringly to Roman. He walked around the desk and took her in his arms. Brushing her forehead with his lips, he murmured, “How blessed I was to have you by my side in Corona—weeping over me, bringing me meat—and now you look more beautiful than I have ever seen you.”
“There’s a reason,” she whispered, waiting for that to sink in while he kissed her neck.
“Oh?”
“Yes.” She guided his hand suggestively to feel the firmness of her abdomen. He caressed her for an instant, then froze.
He opened his eyes. “You’re pregnant?” His voice rose sharply.
“Yes!” she laughed.
“Deirdre,” he gasped, “how long have you known?”
Her grin faded at his shock. She faltered, “Well, I suspected for some time, but didn’t really know for certain until today, when I saw the midwife—”
It was too late. He had stepped back in anger and dismay. “You knew, and didn’t tell me before we left to go to Corona!”
“If I had told you, you wouldn’t have let me come! And weren’t you just saying it was good that I came?” she pleaded.
“That’s not the point!” he sputtered. “You had no right to endanger the life of my unborn child, as well as Ariel’s, for your stubborn adventure. You had no right to deceive me!”
Deirdre gaped at him, unable to comprehe
nd his anger. “You know my reasons for coming, and they were not for adventure! And where does the value of my life fit into all this outrage?”
He stopped, inhaling deeply. “That comment was not worthy of you, Deirdre.” She bit her tongue. No, it was not. She knew how often he had placed her life above his own. She began an apology, but he interrupted: “You shall not sit with me at dinner today. Go to our chambers and wait there. I will have your meal sent up to you.”
“Roman, let me—”
“Go!” He would not hear her out, so she fled the library and ran down the corridor in angry tears. Brushing past the startled soldier at the door of her chambers, she threw herself onto the great downy bed and sobbed fitfully, “How dare he treat me like that—ordering me to my room like a child!”
The humorous thought came to her that the measure was appropriate, considering how she was acting, but she deemed herself too wounded to laugh it off. “If he doesn’t care for my company today—so be it!” she declared dramatically, rising. She swept out the door past the perplexed soldier into the corridor.
There she paused. She could not leave the palace, but she did want to get away, and—yes, defy his order. So she ran to the small courtyard garden which she had tended with her own hands. She plopped onto the little bench amid the heavy sweetness of gardenias.
You’re doing it again. The impression came to her clearly in a tone of chiding humor. “What?” she startled up. You’re pouting when you should be rejoicing.
“What have I to rejoice over?” she murmured bitterly. “Roman is angry with me.” How quickly you forget all the Lord has done!
She sat back, almost unwillingly reliving the incredible course of events in Corona, and the power of the Lord demonstrated there. “Oh, Lord,” she moaned, “why do I do things that anger Roman, even though I love him so? You’ve done so much—why can’t you change me?” She waited, listening, but there was no response to her query.
She surveyed the garden again. The sweet bushes that surrounded her gave her no pleasure. Her favorite roses were blooming in full radiance, but somehow they just depressed her further. “Where is the joy you promised, Lord?” she asked dejectedly. Again, there was no reply, but she was not expecting one.
Well, now she had a choice. She could stay here and sulk in the garden, or she could return to her chambers where Roman had sent her.
Sighing, she stood. It seemed pointless to do anything but obey him, even when he seemed unreasonable. Listlessly, she left the garden and trudged the corridors back to her chambers.
As she came to her door, she met an empty-handed kitchen maid. “My lady, the Surchatain requests you to come to the table.”
Deirdre nodded and followed her down. Roman had relented, which she should have guessed. That presented her with another choice, harder than the first. As they drew near the banquet hall, Deirdre’s stomach tightened to hear the voices and laughter. She wavered, but, knowing what had to be done, set her mind to do it. It would not be easy in front of all of them.
The activity stilled as she entered, and the guests rose. Roman turned in his great chair toward her. Seeing the look of hopeless resignation in his eyes, she knew all that was necessary to regain his favor was to sit and smile at him. But that would no longer suffice.
She knelt beside his chair. “Forgive me for my disobedience, my lord,” she said clearly.
The hall went suddenly quiet; Roman gaped at this first-ever public apology. Then his face changed, and he glanced around the table as if he was burdened to say something embarrassing. He cleared his throat, extending his hand to her. “You are forgiven, my love. Please, sit—I couldn’t bear your absence.”
She took her seat, but he still looked as though he had something to say. “It was wrong of me to punish you, Deirdre. Your loyalty is not a fault,” he said softly. “I was just so—surprised, and afraid for you. I feel that now, at my time of life, it’s important for me to—to protect you. . . .”
He then looked up to announce lightheartedly, “The Surchataine is carrying our second child.”
Those at table came to life with congratulations and expressions of delight. When the clamor died down, Basil said, “Surchatain, I am consumed with curiosity to know what took place in Corona!” Other voices clamored in agreement.
Roman, his confident self again, shifted back in his chair to a story-telling posture. Before he began, however, Deirdre glanced down the table toward the Commander. Sternly, she asked him, “Nihl, where is Izana?”
He looked startled, then his color deepened. “I—had not asked permission for her to sit with me, Surchataine.” Deirdre raised a threatening brow.
“You may seat her at this table, today and hereafter,” Roman said with a half-smile. As Nihl rose from the table, Roman added, “That is, if you’re enjoying your married state.” Nihl stumbled a little in leaving his chair. That telltale slip brought down on him a barrage of friendly teasing that did not cease until he had hurried past the door.
When Nihl returned with Izana, she was given a chair next to him. Roman led the table in a toast congratulating the pair. Then as servants brought out braised lamb, rye bread, and blueberry tarts, Roman began to recount to them all that had transpired in Corona. Sevter produced a quill and parchment to take notes for the history books.
Roman told them about the Bloodclad and Tremelaine. He described the torture room, opening his shirt to show the brand on his chest. As he progressed to accounts of Graydon and his duplicity, Sevter scribbled feverishly, scratching out lines in places. When Roman described the supernatural occurrences surrounding the mirror, Sevter finally dropped the quill and listened open-mouthed with the others.
Roman told of leaving Kam and Colin in advisory positions to the new Surchatain he had appointed, then of meeting up with Gusta and Ariel at the outpost. He told how Deirdre had found the key to unlocking the battering ram. “When we got to the gates and no one would open up, I chose to use it.”
“And how grateful I am for that,” interposed the Counselor. “I was almost a dead man!”
“Not as close as you feared, Counselor. Some of us never doubted you,” Reuel said quietly. He, however, had not seen the Counselor’s neck in the noose.
Olynn stood abruptly, slapping the table as he took up his goblet. He extended it toward the head of the table, declaring, “My lord Roman and lady Deirdre: May you reign long in peace and prosperity. Welcome home!” The guests stood enthusiastically to join the toast. Roman nodded and Deirdre smiled benignly.
When they had finished eating, Roman rose and said, “Brother Avelon, I think there can be no better time to go to the chapel and thank the Lord for His deliverance once again. May we have the Scripture reading early today?”
“If you will come, then now is when we’ll have it,” Avelon said. They rose to go to the chapel as a boy ran to ring the tower bells, summoning others to hear.
While the people poured into the small hall, Avelon stood before them with the great book of Scriptures, finding the reading for the day, Psalm 116. He raised his head, and Roman noted the special aura that came upon him when he took his place on the dais to read from that Book.
“Brothers and sisters in Christ, we gather today to thank the Most High Lord that the Surchatain has returned in victory, and has restored peace to Westford. Remembering our gratitude for those returned safely to us, we continue our reading from the Psalms.” He held up the book, cleared his throat, and read:
“I love the Lord, for he heard my voice;
he heard my cry for mercy.
Because he turned his ear to me,
I will call on him as long as I live.
The cords of death entangled me,
the anguish of the grave came upon me;
I was overcome by trouble and sorrow.
Then I called on the name of the Lord:
‘O Lord, save me!’
The Lord is gracious and righteous;
our God is full of compassion.
> The Lord protects the simplehearted;
when I was in great need, he saved me.
Be at rest once more, O my soul,
for the Lord has been good to you.
For you, O Lord, have delivered my soul from death,
my eyes from tears,
my feet from stumbling,
that I may walk before the Lord
in the land of the living.
I believed even when I said,
‘I am greatly afflicted.’
And in my dismay I said,
‘All men are liars.’
How can I repay the Lord
for all his goodness to me?
I will lift up the cup of salvation
and call on the name of the Lord.
I will fulfill my vows to the Lord
in the presence of all his people.
Precious in the sight of the Lord
is the death of his saints.
O Lord, truly I am your servant;
I am your servant, the son of your maidservant;
you have freed me from my chains.
I will sacrifice a thank offering to you
and call on the name of the Lord.
I will fulfill my vows to the Lord
in the presence of all his people,
in the courts of the house of the Lord—
in your midst, O Jerusalem.
Praise the Lord.”
Basil quietly uttered an intense “Amen!” Deirdre turned to Roman to comment on the reading, but saw him stricken with wonder. Every line of the Psalm had brought to his mind scenes of the pit, the chains, the idol, and the relentless deliverance of the Lord. The astounding relevance of the words left him suspended somewhere beyond himself, in a realm where Intelligence rules with purpose and no pain is unnoticed or unshared.
He lowered his head, unconscious of the tears building in his eyes. That such superhuman effort would be exerted on his behalf, at such a cost, awed him to utter humility. Who was he to be the concern of the Almighty?
Nihl turned, and, seeing Roman, stilled. Others began to turn and look. Roman, not noticing, went down on his knees and Deirdre joined him. Nihl promptly knelt, as did Izana. In a widening ripple the gatherers kneeled.