Weaving Man: Book One of The Prophecy Series

Home > Other > Weaving Man: Book One of The Prophecy Series > Page 75
Weaving Man: Book One of The Prophecy Series Page 75

by Tove Foss Ford


  A soldier is defined by what he does. Once you strip away everything else, a soldier is a man whose life’s work is protecting that which he holds dear – his country, his way of life and his loved ones. Nothing but a heartfelt commitment to protect the things he loves could make a man march unflinchingly into danger. This is a sacred trust, because those of us who have chosen a military life know that we are the first and last line of defense for Mordania.

  After all, what is Mordania? It’s not a shape on a map - it’s the people who live there. When we soldiers risk injury or death, it isn’t to protect a shape on a map. We risk our lives to protect the ones we love at home – our fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, wives, children and lovers. No-one can love a shape on a map and brave death for it, but we willingly do so for those we hold dear. Mordania is full of people some soldier loves. Mordania is full of people some soldier is willing to sacrifice his life for.

  And so I pledge in what I hope will be the last letter I have to write to you, that as a soldier I will always protect you and those I love – because in protecting those I love, I am protecting that which is Mordania. No sacrifice I am called upon to make will be too great, because it will be for the highest cause – keeping all I hold dear safe from harm.

  Just as a soldier’s true purpose is the simple one of protecting what he loves, a soldier’s greatest desire is simple as well – to go home. And so Willow, I am, for the first time, going to achieve the soldier’s dearest wish. I am going home, to begin the job I’ve worked hard to learn – protecting that which I love best. I’m returning home and to all that the word ‘home’ means, from the simplest dwelling to all of Mordania. There can be no higher duty and no reward more glorious than this.

  Love,

  Bumpy

  Captain Hemmett Greinholz”

  Katrin motioned to Menders, needing an extra handkerchief, but he indicated that he’d already given his to Eiren, who was dabbing at her eyes beside him. Kaymar reached offered one. Katrin took it.

  Hemmett grinned directly at her from the podium as applause from the hushed audience started to swell. An old man in military uniform shouted, ‘Send that boy out recruiting!’ and had to be quelled by his embarrassed family.

  Hemmett donned his hat and bellowed an order. The cadets rose, were given a last few words of congratulation by the Commandant, then marched from the hall in a perfect parade. Hemmett managed the barest wink as he went past where Katrin and the rest of them were sitting.

  “That boy,” Eiren gasped, putting away Menders’ handkerchief.

  “That’s a man,” Menders said, his eyes suspiciously damp behind his glasses. “A damned fine man.”

  ***

  Menders decided to stay for the reception and Katrin was thrilled. He seemed confident that the threat to her was entirely removed. He also admitted that little harm could come to Katrin or anyone else here on the Academy grounds, surrounded by the finest young officers of the graduating class, Menders’ Men and every assassin of the Royal Court. With typical forethought, Eiren had packed one of Katrin’s new gowns so that, free of her dreary widow’s disguise, she could now be presented as Hemmett’s country friend.

  Katrin orbited the pre-dinner activities, watching Hemmett from a distance as he was congratulated by classmates, senior officers and family members of other cadets. Katrin noted that many young women flocked to him. He did look stunning in the white jacketed version of his full dress uniform. Across the room, Menders and Eiren were engaged in animated conversation with Commandant Komroff. Borsen was talking to two young officers by the buffet table, probably asking who made their clothes.

  Katrin hung back, feeling ill at ease. She knew no-one but Hemmett and the family, and it didn’t seem right for her to command all his attention now.

  By threading through the crowd, she overheard snippets of conversation. Hemmett’s speech was the main topic of discussion. Some applauded his gumption to say what they thought needed to be said. Others were outspoken at his brazen questioning of military policy.

  “Just who does he think he is, this puppy, to question the validity of the threats against us?” she overheard one crusty, old, much-decorated general proclaim.

  “Oh, just the second highest graduate in the history of the Academy,” a junior officer replied airily, looking away. He caught Katrin’s eye and smiled. “One with more brains than the Chief General Staff added together,” he added much more softly.

  “Eh, what was that, Lugrentz?”

  “Oh nothing, General… nothing.” He smiled at Katrin again. She liked his smile.

  Another senior officer expressed concern that the years’ top graduate was being ‘wasted’ on a backwater assignment of low importance.

  “He’s been posted to go look after some damned Princess!” exclaimed a heavily bearded senior officer to a fleet Admiral in an impossibly white uniform.

  “What, the mad one?”

  “Eh? No! Some other blasted Princess! Princess Carlin, or some such.”

  “I didn’t know we had another Princess,” wheezed the Admiral, stroking his heavily lined face thoughtfully.

  “Absolute waste of a top graduate, if you ask me.”

  Katrin slunk away. She felt bad about that. Menders had tried to ease her chagrin by reminding her that being Captain of her Guard was what Hemmett had always wanted and that she should be glad he wasn’t being posted to active service. Top graduates came back from combat just as dead as other graduates.

  “You seem a little lost, my dear.” The voice came from behind Katrin. She turned quickly, not in fear but because the voice seemed familiar. The speaker, however, was not.

  ‘Dowager’ was how Katrin’s mind catalogued the woman who had spoken to her, as if the word had been coined specifically for that person. The lady was elderly, heavyset, with a pale, lined face under a densely veiled hat, her iron grey hair drawn back tightly into a bun. She leaned on a silver walking cane, topped with a large sunstone. Her dress was old style, stiff fronted dark blue velvet with small blue beads modestly decorating the neckline. Why the veil? Katrin wondered. No-one wore veils in the evening these days. It simply wasn’t done.

  “Oh, forgive me,” Katrin answered, curtseying gracefully. “I was just trying to keep out of everyone’s way. You see, I really don’t know anyone here.”

  The old woman scanned the crowd and smiled a little. “Nor do I.” She extended a hand adorned with a ruby ring as big as Katrin’s eye. “I am the Baroness Verclayden.” Katrin took the Baroness’ hand in hers, smiling.

  “I am Emila de Cosini,” she said quickly, drawing up her cover identity from memory. She’d practiced it for the expected trip abroad to the point where it was almost second nature. “A friend of Bu – Captain Greinholz, from the country.”

  “Are you now?” The voice was neither sarcastic nor curious. “From this country?”

  “Y – er, no. Surelia, although I live here a lot of the time. With my father.” Katrin pointed, then immediately tried to snap her hand back.

  It was a stupid mistake. Menders was known here at the Academy. What if this lady knew him, knew he was not Signore de Cosini? The Baroness regarded Menders and almost smiled.

  “Ah yes. I see the resemblance. Striking, though he is very dark while you are fair.”

  “My mother was Mordanian,” Katrin explained quickly. She might be able to salvage her story. “That’s his second wife, my stepmother.”

  “A Mordanian mother,” the old woman said. “Of course. That would explain your hair.”

  “Yes. She was very fair, like me, but her hair was a beautiful shade of red.”

  The woman shifted her weight and sighed.

  “Would you like to take a seat for a while?” Katrin asked, concerned. There were alcoves furnished with comfortable settees behind the pillars flanking one wall of the room. Katrin led the old lady to one and helped her settle.

  “You are a considerate young lady,” the Baroness said with genuine app
reciation. “So unlike… some others.”

  “I hope always to do the right thing,” Katrin said.

  “As I did, once,” the Baroness said in a softer tone. Her veiled eyes looked out across the room, as if she saw something other than the scene before them.

  “Now, tell me of yourself, my child. Where you live. And what it is you like to do.” The lady shook herself, patted the settee cushion beside her and looked directly at Katrin.

  Much to her surprise, Katrin sat down beside her and told her. She falsified certain details about the Shadows, but for some reason Katrin felt a compulsion to tell this woman all about herself. She spoke of her interest in music but lack of discipline to go further with it, her love of art but lack of perseverance at perfecting her technique and of her interest in teaching but shortness of patience with it.

  “I really don’t know what to do. I feel I don’t fit in anywhere,” Katrin sighed, amazed that she was expressing such a private trouble to this stranger. “Hemmett was always going to be a soldier, an officer. From an early age he knew exactly what he wanted to do. And Borsen has all sorts of dreams and plans and he’ll make them happen if I know him.”

  “Borsen? That would be the elegant little gentleman with the long, dark hair?”

  “That’s Borsen. He’s going to be great at whatever he chooses to do.”

  The Baroness smiled gently. “Greatness is not given to everyone at once. Many earn it. Others only find it when their time comes.”

  “Do you think so?” Katrin asked.

  “I believe that is so, yes,” said the Baroness. “Some of us miss our opportunity. Then all we can do is try to pass something on to someone else – a hope of greatness for the future.”

  Katrin didn’t understand what the Baroness meant but sensed the sadness beneath her words.

  “Would you be so kind and bring me something to drink?” the Baroness asked. Katrin smiled and rose, going toward a waiter with a trayful of glasses.

  When she returned with a glass of champagne, the Baroness was gone. Puzzled, she looked around the alcove, although it was only large enough to hold the settee. There were no hiding places. She even began to look behind the settee and stopped herself. Hemmett’s voice made her turn around sharply.

  “There you are, Willow! You promised to let me escort you in to dinner and at the dance afterwards, to save me from the attentions of one Ufronia Vildsteen.”

  “Did you see an old lady here?”

  “Here where? There are a lot of old ladies about.”

  “Here, here! Sitting right here. I was talking to her just a moment ago and now she’s gone.”

  Hemmett took the Baroness’ champagne glass from her hand and placed it on the arm of the settee. “How many of these have you had, Willow?”

  “Very funny. It was for her, the lady. Baroness Verclayden.”

  “Never heard of her,” Hemmett shrugged, as a distant chime sounded. “That’s the call to dinner.” He extended his arm for her to take. Katrin walked along with him, looking back over her shoulder and around the room, expecting some sign of the Baroness. There was none, as if she had never been there at all.

  (57)

  Another Name

  From Doctor Franz’s journal

  Delightful interval attending Hemmett’s graduation. It has been interesting seeing Menders during these two days. There has been a “housecleaning” performed by Kaymar and others, which I don’t care to consider too carefully. The result has been a Princess able to attend Hemmett’s event, a most happy young lady indeed. Menders, though very watchful, has also been happy, thriving on the change and the relief of knowing that considerable threats have been removed.

  Having Menders settled with the three children doing well is a great relief to me, particularly after the dreadful winter just past. It is to be hoped that we will have some peaceful days to come, particularly when the long tour that has been in the planning begins and Katrin can slip into anonymity.

  ***

  “I want to go abroad as soon as possible,” Menders declared, leaning back in his comfortable seat on the steam launch. Doctor Franz looked up, smiled and pocketed the notebook he’d been scribbling in. The entire party was on board, returning to The Shadows after Hemmett’s graduation.

  “The Queen has granted permission to take Katrin, so it’s best to move now, before she changes her mind or any other threats arise,” Menders continued.

  “Much harder to find a moving target,” Kaymar added, preparing to make a sandwich for Borsen, who could be heard “shouting at the fish”, Hemmett’s euphemism for the boy’s inevitable attack of seasickness anytime he got on a boat. Within fifteen minutes of his sick spell, Borsen would be ravenous again. Eiren removed the mustard pot from Kaymar’s hands and took over the sandwich making, sparing Borsen’s tormented stomach one of Kaymar’s fiery, mustard-laden creations. “I was seriously beginning to fear you’d cancel the trip all together,” Kaymar went on.

  “I considered calling it off, naturally, with Therbalt still out there.” Menders replied.

  “Yes, I know,” Kaymar replied with obvious chagrin. “Bear and I bollixed it sending DeLarco back home, gave Therbalt enough time to get away. Grandstanding like fools. We’re truly sorry about that, Cousin. It was a stupid thing to do.”

  Menders shrugged slightly. It was true, but he knew the elation that followed a successful mission, where it was easy to do such things impulsively. In the same situation as Kaymar and Ifor, he would likely have done the same thing. Such moments of natural humanity worked against assassins – as he well knew.

  He’d let Ermina Trottenheim go when his instinct had been to eliminate her, once he became aware of the potential of her manipulation and dishonesty. His lack of conviction in that case had and would continue to cost them all dearly.

  It could be argued that he could never have predicted Ermina running across someone like Therbalt and endangering Katrin – but he had known she was potentially dangerous and let her go with nothing more than an empty threat because he’d been involved with her. He’d failed to eliminate a potential danger to Katrin and it had come back at him a thousandfold. He would be the last person to blame Kaymar and Ifor for a moment of human frailty.

  “Katrin’s so looking forward to the trip,” Eiren said, replacing the lid on the mustard. “It would break her heart not to go. Remember how she spoke nothing but Surelian for a whole week, to practice?”

  “And drove everyone mad with it,” Kaymar snorted.

  Menders rose and went to the galley counter, enticed by the smell of food.

  “Yes, I know the trip is very important to her, after all her years of missed opportunities and restriction, but I was going to call it off anyway. Then I realized… if we are not there at The Shadows, but make it appear as though we are, then anyone looking for us will be looking in the wrong place. Gladdas has agreed to arrange a few imposters, so that an observer will still see a golden haired girl going around the place, as well as doubles for me, for Eiren, Franz, Kaymar and Ifor.”

  “Brilliant,” Kaymar said with admiration. “Getting us out and on the move means we’ll have the advantage.”

  “Exactly. No one will know where we’ve gone or are going next. We’ll be able to change plans on a whim. We can see anyone trying to get close to us and scout out places ahead of time. May I have one of those?” Menders pointed at the sandwich.

  “Of course,” Eiren smiled, patting his cheek.

  Menders kissed her hand. “What’s more, the Charter of my mission to protect Katrin gives me great freedom and flexibility, something you reminded me of yourself, Kaymar.”

  Kaymar blinked and stiffened as if he’d been hit with a sandbag. He looked sharply at Menders.

  “Cuz – has it occurred to you that your mission with Katrin is over and has been over for months?” he asked abruptly.

  Menders stared at him as if he’d gone mad. Then his face went blank.

  In Mordania, members of the
Royal Family legally came of age at sixteen. Katrin had turned sixteen that winter, just after the The Shadows was locked down. In that somber time she had not felt like celebrating and the significance of her birthday had gone unnoticed.

  Menders was stunned. His orders were no longer in effect. He was no longer Katrin’s legal guardian – yet there had been no word from The Palace when he applied for permission to take her abroad.

  He stared at Eiren, who was open-mouthed, a piece of ham in her hand suspended over the half-finished sandwich. She stared back and then shook her head.

  “She’s not mature enough to be on her own,” she gasped.

  “Agreed,” Kaymar added. “It’s not as if she’s going to turf you out, Menders.”

  Menders blinked slowly. “I had… never planned for this. Can you imagine? Me not having planned this far ahead? I’m appalled at myself.”

  Sixteen years, gone. Could it really have been that long since that baby had been put into his arms? It was. He was a free man, unshackled by any Royal Command. His tenure was over, his mission complete. Had he realized it while still in Erdhan, he could have gone to the Queen and requested another assignment. But no, the very thought was untenable.

  Katrin was certainly not ready to be on her own and showed no desire to be. Her education was not complete. She needed protection and she certainly didn’t need to come under the influence of her mother and sister at Court. Another motivation for the journey abroad was to get her away from Mordania for a while, to give her more experience, to let her grow up away from the continual worry that she would one day be summoned to Court.

  Then there was The Shadows. His life had gone into making it what it was. Legally, of course, the house was Katrin’s He only had the running of it, but he loved it as he had never loved any other place. In that moment, he realized what The Shadows meant to him.

 

‹ Prev