The Fatal Tree

by Stephen R. Lawhead

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  Kit smiled. “Never better. We can talk about it later.” He scanned the area. “So where are they?”

  “Just over here.” She looped an arm through his and led him around to the other side of the Bone House, where Wilhelmina was standing over Gianni, who was crouching beside Burleigh, who was sitting on the ground. “He’s a bit distraught,” confided Cass.

  “. . . according to His will,” Gianni was saying as they came up. “I can only think that this has been His purpose all along, capito?” He glanced up as Kit and Cass joined them. “Kit!” he exclaimed. “Thank God you have returned safely.”

  Burleigh raised his eyes, nodded glumly, and then lowered his head once more. “You do not understand,” he muttered sadly. “It was my one hope of redemption. Can you not see that? I could have been a better man.”

  “But you are a better man,” countered Gianni.

  “No . . . no, I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are,” Gianni assured him. “Not as good as you will be, perhaps, but better than you were.”

  As Kit looked on, he found himself unexpectedly moved by this tender display. Burleigh did appear to be genuinely distressed by his failure to effect a change for himself at the Spirit Well. Perhaps he had been telling the truth about wanting redemption.

  “It is so hard,” moaned Burleigh, putting his head in his hands. His shoulders began to shake. His next words came out as a sob. “It is so very, very hard.”

  Gianni sighed. “It has ever been thus. The way is hard and narrow, it is true. But it is a path beaten smooth by the countless others who have gone before us. And good news! We do not have to walk it alone. God Himself is with us and has blessed us with friends for the journey.”

  “Friends!” Burleigh’s head jerked up, a sneer on his face. “You have friends, maybe. I have none.”

  “We can work on that,” said Gianni, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We can work on that together, you and I.”

  Burleigh sniffed and brushed the tears away with the heels of his hands. “Blubbing like a baby,” he murmured. “What has happened to me?”

  “Maybe you are changing,” Kit said. Burleigh glanced up at him and then, embarrassed, looked away.

  Leaving the two of them to talk, Kit led Cass and Mina aside. “It isn’t just Burleigh that’s changed,” he told them.

  “What do you mean?” asked Wilhelmina.

  “What do I mean?” said Kit. His smile grew wide and he burst out laughing. “We did it! That’s what I mean. Think about it—we kept Arthur out of the pool. We prevented him from using the Spirit Well to change things for himself and destroying all creation in the process.”

  “I guess so,” Cass agreed. “And you stopped that one”—she gave a nod toward Burleigh—“from doing the same.”

  Mina squinted her eyes and cocked her head to one side. “Disaster averted? Everything back to normal?”

  “Well,” Kit replied, “I see only one of you—I take that as a good sign. Although I’d love to talk to Tony and Brendan and see what they have to say.”

  Wilhelmina shivered and rubbed her injured arm. “Why don’t we move this reunion somewhere warmer? If we stand around here much longer we’re going to freeze.”

  “We should be going,” agreed Kit. “With any luck we can get down to the Big Valley Ley before it wakes up.”

  “Too bad,” said Cass. “I’d like to come back, maybe see if we can find your River City friends and stay awhile.”

  “It could be arranged,” replied Kit. “You’d enjoy that?”

  “Like you need to ask,” she replied. “You know I would.”

  “Well, I just want to get home,” said Wilhelmina, “and see what Etzel is cooking.” She turned and hurried away. “I’ll fetch Gianni and Burleigh. You two get going. We’ll catch up.”

  The travellers threaded their way through the forest to what, in other seasons, was a wide, grassy plain. The snow was a little deeper here, so the going was slower and more taxing, but they were warmed by the exertion as they went. They walked easily in one another’s company, content with their own thoughts and the knowledge that whatever the future brought, it would include the love and companionship of what Gianni had called friends for the journey.

  The sun was fading into a white haze in the west as they reached the rim of the Big Valley gorge and started down the cliffside track. The path was only lightly dusted with snow, and it squelched under their feet. Their breath hung in misty clouds. Blue shadows deepened in the valley. A few paces from the start of the ley, Kit put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the sole remaining Shadow Lamp. The little turquoise lights were all aglow.

  “It looks like we’re just in time,” observed Cass, tapping the pewter carapace.

  “You know there’s no such thing as coincidence,” Kit replied lightly. “Right?”

  “Yeah, right,” said Cass. “Let’s go home.”

  Epilogue

  If anyone had told Lady Fayth that she would find fulfilment in playing governess to two young princesses, she assuredly would have chided that person for being a witless bletherskite and laughed in his face. Much to her surprise, then, as the days slipped by, slowly passing into weeks to be succeeded by months, she awoke one morning to the realisation that, in fact, she was very happy with her role in the royal household. Her chores were neither onerous nor overly taxing, and her responsibilities matched her innate sense of status; to be accounted a member of the imperial household, she discovered, was no small thing. As if anything more was required to make the position perfect, the two little girls were a constant delight.

  Princess Anna and Princess Eudokia considered their mistress a beautiful, exotic creature who in their young eyes could do no earthly wrong. After their initial shyness had passed, the two girls pestered Haven for stories of her travels and life in other places, and insisted on her being included in every family outing and royal event that they themselves were expected to attend—anywhere the family was accustomed to appear, whether in public or private. Under Haven’s watchful eye, the imperial palace precinct became the children’s playground, and there was not a corner or courtyard that did not at one time or another chime with their laughter or clatter with the musical instruments Haven improvised for their mock processions.

  Against all odds and every expectation, Haven found her true calling, and for the first time anywhere—or anywhen—discovered herself contented. The emperor too was more than satisfied with his decision to employ her as child minder to his daughters. Indeed, he was so impressed with his latest addition to his staff that he conferred on her the title of Procuratrix. Thus, the presence of the pale foreigner soon came to be taken for granted and, as part of the royal household, she was no longer to be remarked upon.

  As for Giles, when Emperor Leo learned that the young man was accustomed to the care and feeding of horses, he put his newly acquired servant to work in the royal stables. A lowly job, but Giles not only showed a flair for grooming the beasts, he demonstrated a ready knowledge of breeding practices unknown to the Byzantines. He also showed he knew a thing or two about training horses, and displayed such skill in their handling that he was promoted to looking after the emperor’s personal riding stock. In his new position as assistant chief stable master, Giles was offered the opportunity to teach young Prince Constantine to ride—a circumstance that brought him into regular contact with not only the upper echelon of the emperor’s staff but also the emperor himself. In Leo he found a man of keen intelligence, refinement, and integrity—a man worthy of his service.

  Emperor Leo possessed an outsized sense of occasion—a minor fault, expressing itself in the propensity to imbue even the most trivial happenstances of life with an import far exceeding any useful consideration. He took everything far too seriously. To all appearances, Leo lacked a sense of humour. Thus, upon the rare occasions when something Giles said or did made the emperor smile, Giles was reminded of the heavy weight of nobi
lity and went away feeling as if he had done a good day’s work. The day Giles invited Leo into the riding ring to hold the halter rope and call the commands himself, the look of rapture on the emperor’s face as he put a young stallion through its paces gave Giles to know that he had secured a patron for life.

  As pleasant as their positions in the royal household might have been, it did not prevent the ley travellers from wondering what Providence had in store for them a little farther down the road. On the one hand, they enjoyed a very sheltered, even privileged, position from which to contemplate their next steps. On the other hand, they had no idea what those next steps might be, much less how to take them or where they might lead.

  “Are we ever going to get away, go home?” asked Haven one night when, as was their custom, they withdrew to their private apartment after their official duties were finished for the day.

  “Are we ever going to get away from here?” echoed Giles. It was not the first time she had asked that question; indeed, in various forms it regularly surfaced as an item of conversation when they were alone. But this night was different somehow; it struck Giles that he already knew the answer—in fact, had known it for some time. “I fear not,” he said gently. “I think we must face the fact that we are not going to leave Constantinople.”

  Haven glanced up sharply. His bluntness took her aback. She had merely been thinking aloud and not really expecting an answer. “You are harsh tonight, Mr. Standfast. I scarce know what has come over you to speak so.”

  “I do not speak from harshness—only from conviction. I believe I see clearly tonight the folly of clinging to false hope.”

  “Our hope is anything but false, sir. You ought to know that as well as anyone. We have Sir Henry’s green book to use as a guide. We have but to—” She stopped, halted by the slow, steady shake of Giles’ head. “Why do you wag your head so?”

  “Haven, think. We have the green book, yes—but if it contained any information or instruction useful to us in our present situation, would we not have made use of it long ago? We have had ample opportunity to employ that book, but the truth is that there resides within its pages neither implement nor information to lead us from here to any better place.” He moved a few steps nearer. “We have come to the end of the road. For us, the quest for the Skin Map is over.”

  Haven stiffened her back as if to resist the remorseless tide flow of his logic, all the while knowing in her heart that he was right. To flee, to escape, to leave would present problems so difficult as to be insoluble—not the least of which was the fact that they did not have the slightest idea where they might find a nearby ley line, nor, having found it, could they guess where it might lead. In all the time they had been in Constantinople, they had never felt so much as a quiver of ley energy anywhere inside the city or out. Yet, supposing that they did somehow discover a ley line to take them away . . . what then? Wherever they landed, they would still be quite as lost as they were now, but without any of the benefits Providence had so graciously provided them in this time and place.

  “Are we ever going home?” Giles continued, taking up the question anew. He moved to stand directly before her. “My lady, I am thinking we are already home.”

  Haven searched his clear dark eyes and saw the light of conviction. “I do not say you are wrong,” she replied a little hesitantly. “Only, it would be some consolation to let our friends and relations know what has become of us.”

  “Yes, there would be comfort in that,” allowed Giles. “Though if it meant leaving all this behind, I would count it but cold comfort. In truth, dear lady, I feel as if we are meant to be here. Might we find a better place? Perhaps. Yet there is a rightness in our position here that I feel to the soles of my feet when I walk the streets or stand in the training ring. In this place, I am more than groom and footman. And you—I have seen the way you shine when you have come from a day spent schooling those little girls. Begging your pardon, I mean no offence by it, but I believe it is in the way of making you a better person than the one I knew before.”

  Haven dropped her head. “I take no offence. It is true. I do so love my situation—such that I cannot now imagine parting without also imagining the pain and guilt leaving my little ones would bring in train. I do believe it would make of me a most wretched creature.”

  “Then let us speak no more of leaving a world and life that has become dear to us, and that I truly believe has been provided for our benefit,” Giles said firmly. He placed his hands on her shoulders as if to steady her. “Think you now—is there anything back there that we do not have here?” He paused a moment to allow her to consider. “I say not. Let us henceforth declare that the past is indeed past, and our only future is here and what we make of it.”

  Haven remained silent for a moment, then nodded. “Very well,” she agreed at last, her voice falling. “I do believe you are right—my heart tells me you speak the truth. But it is a bitter truth and goes down right hard.” She sniffed, holding back the tears that started to her eyes.

  Giles felt a shudder pass through her slender frame. He pulled her closer. “Perhaps,” he suggested lightly, “I may offer a bit of sweetness?” He put a finger to her chin and raised her face to his. “My lady, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?” Before she could reply, he added, “Marry me, Haven Fayth, and let us make a life here together come what may.”

  She smiled sadly. “Are you very certain, Mr. Standfast, that you want a wife at all? I have seen the way the ladies of the household and court gaze upon your manly form when they think no one is looking. You could have your pick of any one of them.”

  “Dearest Haven, I made my choice long ago. I chose you, and it is you I come home to every night. It chafes me sore to live with you as a brother or cousin, when it is a husband I would be.” He held her in his steady gaze. “I ask you again, will you marry me?”

  “I will, Giles,” she answered, and felt an unexpected relief well up inside her; it took the form of a sudden, irrepressible giddiness. “Yes! I will marry you, my darling man. You are and have ever been my heart’s true friend. And I shall be yours—you will see. I shall be the wife you deserve.”

  Giles kissed her then, quickly, lest she change her mind. When she made no resistance, he kissed her again, longer this time, and more sweetly, then gathered her into his embrace.

  They stood holding one another for a time, and then Haven suddenly reared back in his arms. “But, oh! How can this be?” she said. “The emperor and his court think we are married already. To go before them now with this would be an embarrassment to them and, worse, would likely bring condemnation down on our heads for the regrettable lie we have been living. I fear the punishment would be most severe and long regretted.”

  “To be sure,” agreed Giles. “Still, I would not have urged this course if I did not also consider the consequence. Yet there is hope. I think I have a way to proceed so that no one at court need ever know.” He took her hand and led her to the low divan beside the table where they dined. “We will go to one of the little churches outside the palace district and have the proper ceremony performed there in secret. There is one such church a short distance from the Forum of Theodosius, and it is named for Saint George. It is small and much neglected. The priest there is old and half blind, but he is a kindly soul and most understanding.”

  “He will marry us? You have spoken to him?”

  Giles nodded. “He will—and for a small donation to help fix the roof of his church, he will not only conduct the ceremony, he will provide the wedding feast.”

  Haven gripped his hands and squeezed. “Then let us do it soon, my love, and end this gross deception with a grand flourish of honesty, propriety, and loyalty.” She kissed him again. “Let us be married as soon as possible.”

  A week or so later, the opportunity arose when the royal family sailed to their summer lodge at Prínkēpos, an island in the Marmara just off the southern coast of the city. Giles was not needed, and Haven was to fol
low six days later with a few other courtiers. Thus, they had time to themselves, and wasted not a moment. Giles dashed ahead to alert the priest and then hurried back to meet Haven on the way.

  The day was warm and bright, and Haven dressed in a white silk gown the empress had recently given her, complaining that it did not fit her as well as she had hoped. She had braided her hair with tiny wild daisies and myrtle, and looked every inch the bride Giles had hoped one day to wed. He met her at the entrance to the forum and led her along the maze of narrow streets to the church—a simple stone edifice surrounded by a walled garden planted with olive trees—where the priest and his wife were waiting at the gate. The plump little woman held a lace veil that she insisted Haven wear, and the priest gave Giles the use of his best robe and red sash.

  Then, satisfied that the celebrants were properly attired, the white-bearded priest led them to the outer door of the church where the first part of the ceremony was performed. Although Giles’ facility with Greek had grown by leaps since entering the emperor’s employ, there was much in the ancient rite he could not follow; Haven filled in the gaps for him and told him when to respond and what to say. Then they were led into the tiny church where they lit a candle and knelt before the altar; the priest looped a satin stole over their joined hands to tie them together, said a long prayer for their health and prosperity, and then it was over.

  The priest’s wife clapped her hands with joy and kissed them both on both cheeks, and then the priest ushered them to his house and to the tiny courtyard where the wedding feast would be held. To honour the occasion, he had invited some of his parishioners and the poorer folk of the neighbourhood. “What is a wedding without a celebration?” he said. “And some of these good folk do not have a single thing to celebrate one Easter to the next.”

  “Bring them all,” Haven told him, placing her hand on his arm. “They are welcome at our wedding feast.”