Invocation

by Nicole Warner

  He called for me when Tergen brought in the last patient. “Lord Eadred, please, wud you dui the honours?” he requested, using the correct form of address for once.

  They all turned to stare, including Edmund and Anais. I took the steps down to the amphitheatre floor, rolling up the sleeves on my tunic and collecting a clean saw from a side room on the way.

  “Lord Eadred’s well knoon tae you all, I believe.” The courtiers murmured their appreciation and eagerness to see one of their own perform this grisly task. “He’s bin trainin at the university these six months. A more apt student ah’ve never knoon.”

  Ludlow’s praise shocked me and I hesitated before coming forward into view. “Lord Eadred, please tellt oor audience what be wrong with this patient and aboot this course of treatment. Why you believe it is the only option.”

  In a flat voice I did as he asked, explaining everything as succinctly as possible, in terms I knew the courtiers would understand.

  “Please, get tae it,” Ludlow directed with a supercilious wave.

  Tergen handed me the tourniquet, and I twisted the rod, tightening the strap so the blood flow was cut off from the affected limb. I gave the man the leather wad. “All will be well. Bite down on this as hard as you can. It’ll be over before you know it.”

  My gift probed his leg in the way I took in breath, without thought or plan. I couldn’t help but detect the awful truth and rubbed at the blackened skin of his necrotic limb. When I lifted my fingers to look, I discovered the black transferred onto them.

  “Professor,” I urgently whispered. “This leg is healthy. Why are we performing this operation?”

  The patient heard and spat out the wad to ask, “If you don’t cut if off, will I still get paid?”

  Ludlow stuffed the leather back into his mouth and grabbed my arm, squeezing hard. “You’ll perform the procedure, Master Rougeulf, or I’ll see tae it myself tha you fail the entire course,” he hissed in an undertone.

  I met those callous eyes, understanding the show was required to continue.

  At Tergen’s nod, I put the blade to the patient’s leg and placed a hand below, moving the saw into his flesh just above the knee. Blood dribbled down the sides as skin and muscle parted with disconcerting ease. The man thrashed, his muffled screams loud. I held my grip firmer on his leg to both control his movement and will him to pass out sooner.

  Somehow it worked. With a final, muted cry, the man’s head lolled to the side. A little surprised, I glanced at him and then at Tergen, who shrugged his shoulders. I sawed through his flesh and then the large bone of his thigh, glad, despite my better self, that I already possessed some experience with this.

  When the procedure was completed, we wrapped the remainder of his limb and moved him to the stretcher. I went to follow the patient, but Ludlow held me back with a hand. Together we bowed, Ludlow finishing his with a proud flourish. The courtiers stood and clapped as if they’d just watched the most marvellous of performances.

  Sick to my stomach, my gaze travelled to hers. Today, she wore a pink dress with grey accents. Her blonde hair, set in tumbling curls down her right shoulder, glowed under the light. And her lips. I blinked and looked away, a certain memory taking over my thoughts so completely I felt untethered. She held herself differently. A little stiffer. Her wonderful openness masked with neutrality. Only her green eyes, wide with shock, showed her truest feelings, leaving me exposed under their intensity.

  I was given an opportunity to change into clean clothes and then ordered to present myself to Edmund. I did so, exchanging stilted pleasantries with him. He did not invite Anais to speak to me and we didn’t press the matter.

  Tergen waved for my attention from the doorway and I used the excuse to leave them both. When I bowed I kept my gaze on her, saying everything I could in that last look.

  It was the only time I saw her during their visit.

  I spent the next two nights visiting the amputees, finding all suffering from blistering fevers that left their mouths dry and lips cracking. The pain they experienced was excruciating and, I suspected, unnecessary for a good majority of them. Five died from blood loss and shock. Six were yet rushing towards death, their blood infected, angry veins of red creeping up their limbs and onto their torsos. Only my gift kept them from the brink.

  Ludlow, of course, stole all the credit for the fast recoveries of those who survived his macabre display. Tergen told us the mortality rate after every one of his performances in Birne had been vastly higher. Little wonder he did his rounds all puffed up with his own self-importance.

  It took the greatest effort for me to not pick him up by his scrawny neck and throw him against a wall. That he had forced me to perform such a potentially fatal procedure on a healthy man went beyond the pale. Worse yet was talking to the amputees and learning how many of them gave up robust limbs for a handsome payment. It struck me to the heart with sheer horror, going against everything I believed.

  I spoke with Abbot William soon after, making it abundantly clear that I refused to work with Ludlow any longer.

  If they wanted me to prove myself I would, but on my terms.

  I asked for the entire central ward to be placed under my direct care while my training continued, the abbot and other teachers to monitor my performance. If, by the end of six months, every patient wasn’t on their way to recovery, barring the direst cases, all without revealing my gift, they could send me back to Ludlow. However, if successful, they were to grant me all the honours and position of a physician and give me leave to follow my own path.

  If not, I’d walk away from the lot of them. The Church and their Holy Path be damned.

  They agreed, as I knew they would.

  Everything appeared to be falling into place. Granted the autonomy I craved, helping the sick and injured, I was regaining my sense of purpose. Perhaps even finding my way back to myself.

  Then Anais sent a letter, and everything I’d put so much effort into suppressing came surging forward. I sat on my trunk in the dormitory to read it. My hand started shaking almost immediately.

  Dearest Eadred,

  I dreamt about you, as I confess I often do. But this dream was different and vivid in a way I have never known before. A woman, with black hair and a veil low over her face, threw a spear with deadly intent towards you, and you were helpless to stop it. The blade pierced you high upon your thigh, going in so deep. Your injury bled fiercely, and you cried out in pain. My dream became awash with your blood. I was terrified I would lose you. Eadred, you called out my name with such longing and loss I could have wept. Then a light of incomparable grace intervened and two little boys came to stand before you, shielding you from the woman, followed by ten owls flying about in a perfect circle. A prayer was answered, the Divine coming to your call. It hurt the woman in black and she screamed as flames rushed up her dress. Her anger was as vast as the sea and because of that she refused to submit. She fell into shadow, dousing the flame, and was gone. The children and owls vanished. And you, my dearest friend, put a hand to your grievous wound and healed yourself.

  When I awoke I only understood I had seen the truth at last. These are the three indisputable facts revealed to me: your life is in grave danger; you are Three Times Blessed; and you can heal yourself and others.

  Do not deny it, for I have never been surer of anything in my entire existence. Forgive me. There is one exception but, as always, some things are better left unsaid.

  God go with you - always yours, Anais

  When I finished reading her letter, I found her tria beads where I’d hidden them ever since their wedding: deep in the trunk, nestled in the hollow of my cavalier hat.

  Acknowledgment of the inevitable, assent for my role in something bigger than us both, plus admission of my need, saw me place them once more around my neck. I kissed the triquetra solemnly. It was time to admit the truth to mysel
f. This thing between us wasn’t going away. I wasn’t moving on and neither was Anais.

  Unexpected

  Battles

  On the lawn near the summerhouse, enjoying the warmer weather, I drew the last stroke with the brush and stepped away to admire my work. The painting was a stylised version of the box cypher Eadred had given me, every letter formed with rich flourishes and twirls. The lines around each word were vines covered in tiny green leaves.

  Above this I had added: always yours. Combined with his secret message, what I read was: these two halves of a whole. And: always yours to love. His intent or not, the phrase had become one I cherished.

  Annette came over to see my work, her face twisting into a sneer that conveyed all the ways her superior taste was left wanting. When she became aware of how I watched her, she smoothed her expression with a smile.

  “Your Majesty, this is … most unique. May I ask what it is?”

  “No, you may not,” I answered. While I was well used to her games, there was no benefit to me in playing them. “Please organise for it to be framed. I wish to hang it on the wall in my private drawing room.”

  “Surely not!” She gave a disparaging laugh and called over Regina. “Queen Anne plans to put this in her apartment. Have you ever seen the like?”

  The two of them shared smiles of malicious glee, but I lifted my chin, ignoring their behaviour. After these many months in their company, I understood all the spiteful little ways they sought to undermine my confidence. I also accepted that, as their queen, they would follow my orders to the letter.

  I put down the paintbrush and waved a servant over to clean the area. Steady hands undid the tie at the rear of my apron and I smiled at Georgette, thanking her for such thoughtful assistance. She showed me her painting, a vague and dreamy expanse of woods. Swirling through the green leaves and brown branches were subtle flashes of colour.

  “Lovely, Georgette,” I complimented, glancing over at the source of her inspiration. “You have truly captured the beauty of those trees around the lawn.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” she murmured, hiding her shy smile behind a raised hand.

  I began to walk towards the palace, my ladies in waiting hurrying after me. “Your Majesty, where are you going?” Annette asked, nearly tripping in her haste. She picked up her skirts with a huff of annoyance.

  “To speak to the cook,” I said. “I was not pleased with her last meal.” Mistress Towers, God bless her kindness in embracing Chartel cooking for my sake, would have to forgive me for the lie.

  “We can do that for you,” Georgette offered.

  “I will not be long,” I promised.

  “Your Majesty, why would you want to visit the kitchens?” Annette gave a tinkling laugh of disbelief.

  “Please meet me in my drawing room,” I said, holding back a sigh and forcing a polite smile in its place.

  I left them and took the grand staircase, alighting on the second floor and finding my way to the service stairwell that led into Adele’s room. There was a matter that needed investigation.

  As I entered her simple bedchamber, bare but for a bed and chest against the wall, I could hear the chambermaids talking. They berated poor Adele, calling her stupid and teasing the remnants of her Chartel accent. I paused at the door and listened for a time.

  “Did you find anything today?” a woman said from my study.

  “Just a letter from her brother, written in Chartel,” another woman answered. “Dear Anais … God, why can’t they call her by her proper name? It’s offensive. Our papa has not been well. His discomfort grows greater each day … blah de blah, it goes on a bit about this … there’s some kind of puzzle here from the other brother, Rene … ah here it gets more interesting … there has been an increased presence of Tellen soldiers at the border. Please speak to your husband about this matter and ask what purpose he has for this … more blathering about missing her.” A choking sound, as if she vomited. “Are they really this nice to each other? I can’t stand my brother and I’d kick him where it counts if he dared be such a princess.” The other servant chuckled.

  Papers rustled and drawers were opened. “Got something,” the first woman said. “It’s a note she’s made with a list of things on it: dreams, past, patterns, connection with a question mark. Then another list underneath: healing, black-haired woman, protected, connection, again with a question mark. Three Times Blessed is underlined beneath it all.”

  “Sounds like a bunch of idiotic nonsense if you ask me. Let me see.”

  “No need to snatch it off me!” The first servant said a word that made me blush a little to overhear.

  “Put it back. We’ve found nothing that’ll interest Roache this time.”

  There was a swish of expensive fabrics. A third servant asked, “How do I look lovelies?”

  “Like a tarted-up queen!” The three women shrieked in coarse laughter.

  “Do you think she’ll miss this comb?”

  “Probably,” the first woman answered with bored indifference.

  “The green gems must be pasted glass. It’s always on her dressing table. Can’t be too valuable as it’s not in the royal vault with the other jewellery.” She giggled. “I’m going to borrow it for a time. That Chartel idiot will cover for us.”

  “She’ll do whatever we want.”

  More laughter and then the third woman yelled, “Chartel dullard! We’re finished. Get in here now. Clean this up.”

  “One moment, Mistress Roberts, I still clean the fireplace,” Adele responded, fear making her voice wobble. My jaw tensed with an escalating anger.

  “That insolent cow!” The swishing skirts moved away and the other two followed. There was a sound of whacking, someone getting hit repeatedly. I left Adele’s room. My lips were set in fury the like of which I had never before experienced. “Stupid cow! How dare you disobey us!”

  When I entered my private drawing room, I found Adele hunched over, trying to protect herself, while the chambermaid, wearing one of my dresses, was hitting Adele’s back with a poker from the fire.

  “How dare you!” I roared and all three women spun about in sheer horror. Like the front of a raging storm, I advanced and grabbed the poker out of her hand, brandishing it at them. “Who do you think you are to treat anyone this way? Going through my belongings, spying on me, behaving as if Adele is your servant and less than you! Then beating her! I have never been more disgusted in my life!”

  All three women fell into deep curtsies and stayed there, heads bowed in shame and fear. “Get up,” I snarled, throwing the poker to the rug, uncaring of the black stain it left. “Go stand over there while I see to Adele.”

  They shuffled to the wall. As the woman dressed in my clothes turned, I saw my emerald comb in her thin hair and wrenched it out, little caring if I hurt her in the process.

  Still holding it in my palm, I bent over Adele and helped her stand. Tears tracked dirty lines down her face. Filled with sorrow for her mistreatment, I stroked a gentle hand across her cheek, wiping them away.

  “I suspected but did not know with certainty, Adele. I am sorry for what you have gone through.”

  She dipped her head, washed out blue eyes fresh with pain. “Your Majesty, there’s nothing to forgive. I didn’t want you to know.”

  “How long?” Adele did not answer, and I sighed with deepening regret and sorrow. “Since my wedding?” She nodded. My anger, temporarily overtaken by grief for her suffering, rose once more. “Come with me. All of you.”

  I walked to the door. The woman in my dress hesitated. “Your Majesty, might I change first?”

  “You may not, Mistress Roberts. I will take you to your master as you are, so he can see for himself just what he has wrought.”

  They followed as I returned to the service staircase in Adele’s room, deciding then and there to move her bed int
o the larger nursery. We would put a lock on the door giving access to the stairwell; I wanted the entry it provided to my apartment controlled, for the sake of my privacy and Adele’s safety.

  We alighted on the second level, and I said, “Follow me.” Roache’s office was on the eastern side of the palace, near the minister’s staircase leading to their council room.

  “To where?” Mistress Roberts asked.

  “Your master, Chief Minister Roache.” The women exchanged looks. “Now.” I refused to waste another second on their duplicity.

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” There was a heavy silence behind me, sullen and angry. I did not need to turn around to witness their churlish glowers at my back.

  To divert myself from the desire to spin about and slap those insolent women across their faces, I studied the panels on the walls in the hallway, noticing again the strange symbol that repeated itself in the oddest of places. Before I could think too much on it, we reached the door of the King’s youngest minister. One of the women behind me sniggered as I knocked, muttering to her friend, “How dense is she?”

  Lord Barnes answered my knock. He bowed upon seeing who waited beyond. “Forgive me.” I grimaced my dismay. “I seem to have the wrong office.”

  “Your Majesty, as always, it is an honour,” he said gallantly.

  His brows were high at the sight of the serving women. I beckoned him a little closer to tell him, “You look surprised, Lord Barnes. As was I, when I discovered these three chambermaids going through my belongings, trying on my dresses and attempting to steal from me.”

  “You don’t say?” he asked, scandalised and intrigued both.

  “Far worse was the way they physically assaulted my personal servant, beating her with a poker because they were too lazy themselves to do any work! I have never known such slovenly behaviour. Really, every noble in the palace should scrutinise their servants to make sure they are not taking advantage of us all.”