The Dothan Chronicles: The Complete Trilogy
Page 83
They reached the gatehouse and increased their pace, crossing through abandoned farms rather than taking the roads. In record time they reached Lord Miach’s army. The middle-aged lord approached, his eyes dark with anger.
Erin tried not to smile. He didn’t like the older lord, not only for the time he had spent watching Miach woo Bethany, but for his treatment of her after Gilead’s death. Miach was a pompous man with no notion of the Dothan people. He knew the lords and ladies, but not the foundation of their nation. Then again, neither did Gilead.
“Well met, Lord Miach,” Bethany said, doing her best to sound as though Miach’s arrival had been welcome, but not essential; Miach didn’t need to know he had saved the day.
“My lady,” he replied.
“I see you have gathered prisoners.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Is there a leader among them?”
“Yes, there is one they seem to consider their leader.”
“Excellent. Lead the way,” she commanded.
Erin watched as Miach ground his teeth together before leading them to a group of well-guarded men. Erin felt his scar pull as he smiled down at a face he would never, could never forget. He swung out of his saddle, only dimly aware of Bethany’s awkward dismount. She too had spotted a recognizable face in the crowd.
“Lyolf!” she said, grabbing the ex-prince by the arm and helping him to his feet.
“My lady,” exclaimed Miach. “He is the enemy!”
Bethany turned a dark glare on the lord. “Lord Miach, how do you think allies are formed? We turn enemies into friends. I know Sir Lyolf Eberhand, and I will greet him as I choose.”
The queen turned her back on Miach and gripped Lyolf’s hands, ignoring the fact they were bound. Erin smiled again. Bethany was wise enough to preach words of friendship and yet practice caution.
“Lady Bethany,” said Lyolf, giving her the barest bow.
“She is Queen Bethany now,” said Erin, slapping Lyolf on the shoulder.
“And are you King Erin?” asked Lyolf.
Erin blushed until his face burned.
“Not yet,” said Bethany with a smirk as she slipped her hand into Erin’s.
Lyolf laughed. “I’m glad to see you two have finally figured it all out.”
Erin and Bethany joined their captive in a hearty, yet tired laugh. When the noise finally died down, Lyolf lowered himself into a humble bow, propping himself up on one knee.
“In that case, I surrender myself and my men into your keeping,” he said.
“You what?” demanded the man next to him.
Lyolf glanced at him over his shoulder, a look of concern pulling his brows together. He looked out over the group of fifty or so men, the turning wheels of his mind almost visible in his dark eyes. Lyolf climbed to his feet and turned to address what was left of Wolfric’s army.
“I am surrendering myself to Queen Bethany, the same Bethany who was once held by Wolfric as a prisoner. Yes, Wolfric held a woman as prisoner and forced her into an engagement with Prince Féderic. Wolfric, Féderic, and Rulfric are all dead. I support Queen Bethany, beside the famous Sir Erin Caldry. I support Queen Bethany who fought her way out of Wolfric’s castle and crossed the great peninsula to get home. I support Queen Bethany who took up arms against her enemy to save her people. I support the queen!”
To Erin’s astonishment. Wolfric’s army let out a great cheer. Like himself, they were not committed to deceased king, but rather to the lesser men who provided the real leadership. He glanced over at Bethany. Her eyes shone with tears and her cheeks glowed with a growing blush. She never could grasp why anyone would follow her, much less everyone.
Lyolf turned back to her. “I surrender my men to you, Queen Bethany.”
“Bethany!” cheered their enemies, quickly followed by their allies. “Bethany!”
Epilogue
Bethany turned her gaze to Erin. Even after years of marriage, his scars were still visible. Then again, so were hers. Though the outward markings never faded, their inner scars had healed with time and the love of family. She had been tortured, by both friends and foe, and yet somehow life had corrected itself. Years later, Bethany had learned the value of the gift she had given Erin.
She had forgiven herself.
Despite her desire to punish herself for all that had happened, Bethany had slowly learned the value of a short memory. What had been done to her would not control her existence.
Bethany smiled to herself. It had taken her a long time, years of marriage, to realize she wasn’t at fault for Fed’s treatment, and that she was, at least in part, worth the love given to her by her husband and her people.
It is strange, she thought to herself, how we can forgive others more easily than ourselves.
“What are you thinking?” asked Erin as he dismounted the aging Éimhin.
Bethany smiled at him.
“How did we get here?” she asked as she scanned the small herd of a children racing ahead of the caravan.
Erin grinned mischievously. “Well… you see… when a man and woman love each other.”
Bethany rolled her eyes as she, too, dismounted. Leave it to Erin to make a dirty joke.
“Not what I meant.”
“I know,” Erin said as he wrapped his arm around Bethany’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “And to answer your question, we got here together.”
At first it didn’t seem much like an answer. Bethany chewed on his words, thinking through their meaning. He was right. They had gotten here, to this place of safety and plenty, together.
The queen handed her reins to a squire and followed the bounding children as they continued down the wide dirt road towards Nava. They were at least two miles away from the coastal city, but Bethany’s aging backside couldn’t stand another minute in the saddle, just as the children couldn’t stand another minute in the wagon.
After Lyolf’s surrender, Bethany had sent a letter to Tolad, announcing Wolfric’s death, along with his two eldest sons. To their complete astonishment, they had received a letter from none other than Sir Pelor. Even after all these years, Bethany still remembered the man’s words.
Bethany,
It does me good to hear of Wolfric and Féderic’s death, though I am sure my joy is nothing to yours. During their campaign against your sovereign state, Wolfric’s last male heir, Cedric, died. As Princess Mirabelle’s husband, and therefore the last male member of the royal family, it is my duty to take control of Wolfric’s holdings.
Know that I do not view Dothan, despite our difficult parting, as an enemy. I hope together we can bring our nations, and in fact the entire peninsula, to a place of peace and commerce. It is my plan, over the course of the next couple years, to return Topaq and Domhain to their rightful leaders. I hope you will join me in engaging in trade to bolster their economy during the coming fragile first days.
Lastly, please allow me to congratulate you on your victory over such a vicious enemy, much less you’re coming to power within Dothan. I have no doubt your grace and justice will bring Dothan to a new golden age.
With Great Respect,
King Pelor Eberhand
While Pelor’s words had been a complete surprise, the fact that he had stayed true to his word brought even more astonishment. Topaq and Domhain were autonomous once again. And, once again, the kings met to promote continued peace and commerce amongst themselves, and Nava, the seat of Lord Lyolf, would host the great event.
Bethany thought back to her father. The last time the kings of the peninsula had met under a flag of peace had been during his reign. What would he say if he could see them now?
The queen watched as her two daughters raced ahead, quickly followed by Sevar and Rahel. Slowly, her niece had drawn Sevar out of her past terror. The two young ladies now had the charge of the two young princesses. Their son, Prince Middin was a squire, learning the art of war, though Bethany hoped he would never need the knowledge.
Bethany l
owered her hand to the small bump on her stomach. Boy or girl? she wondered for the hundredth time.
Peace lay across the peninsula and, assuming no one got any war-mongering ideas, the peace would last. Each king and queen were determined to see the days of Wolfric’s tyranny at an end. Even King Pelor was content with his diminished kingdom.
“You all right?” asked Erin from her side.
The lost princess, hanging in the slave dormitory, feeling the bite of the whip on her back at Erin’s hand never would have believed that same man would become her husband. But he was, and she was happy.
She smiled up at him, her scarred knight. “Yes.”
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