Back From Chaos (26 page)

By this time rumours ran amok about Marja’s unconfirmed pregnancy. Many sent knowing looks in the direction of the party as they made their rounds. Some were bold enough to try to corner Brensa and question her, actions the guards quickly intercepted. This was the one situation in which the constant presence of the guards gave Brensa a sense of safety. Normally, having men around still made her uneasy. But now, they prevented her from being constantly accosted by even more frightening individuals and saved her from needing to dissemble about Marja’s condition.

Keeping the pregnancy secret soon became moot. Old mothers noted the glow of health in Marja’s cheeks and nodded sagely. Others swore they detected a swelling in her belly. Still others claimed they had the gift of seeing and could sense the child growing within her. Nevertheless, Marja and Gaelen kept a stoic silence, refusing to confirm or deny anything. Brensa could do no less.

When people began to fall ill in greater numbers, Brensa finally understood the true reason for her lady’s anxiety. She pleaded with her one last time. “My lady, you must not become ill. Think of the child you carry. Please do not put yourself in danger.”

Marja remained adamant and ordered Brensa to say no more about it. She confided the second reason for keeping her condition secret. “If others became aware they will behave just like you. They will press me to curtail my work and try to convince me to pamper myself. I have no intentions of doing anything of the kind”

“
But, my lady, I—”

“
No, Brensa. I must work as I can alongside my people. I must show them that I care for them. I am needed.” Marja told her firmly that nothing would stop her from ministering to “her people” as the need arose. Stubbornness can be a strength as well as a weakness, and Brensa knew that Marja could be nothing if not stubborn.

“
Besides, I have Liethis’ assurance that both myself and my son will be well, so I see no reason to hold back from my duty.” The set of Marja’s mouth convinced Brensa that she had best keep her silence on the subject and help as she could.

Two eightdays after Summer Festival, just days after the first reports of illness, Brensa had gone to fetch some dried raspberry leaves from the kitchen to make a strengthening tea for Marja. On her way back, a washer woman, arms laden with clean linen, blocked her way in the narrow hall. Brensa could feel the woman’s hot breath when she coughed in her face.

“
Yer lady’ll have folk wonderin’ if’n Lord Gaelen be cuckolded, bein’ it comes so soon, eh? Did ye see ’er lover, back afore, eh?” Then she winked conspiratorially.

Before the woman could say anything more, the guard outside Marja’s door had her by the arms and hustled her away.

Marja noticed Brensa’s ghostly face and trembling hands. “Brensa, what is amiss?”

When Brensa told her what had happened, Marja had the guard trace the woman and permanently bar her from the castle.

The first to show signs of illness—sore throat, fever, chills, sore eyes and red rash—were the workers who lived outside the castle and came in daily to fulfil their duties. By the time the first servants and guards started falling ill, rumours of an impending birth were forgotten. A new fear, coming on the heels of the first deaths, eclipsed such gossip.

Mere days after the first outside workers fell ill, reports of cases inside the castle reached Marja. Within an eightday more, it became difficult to find enough people to complete the day-to-day tasks of running the household and looking after those who had contracted the fever. Brensa worked tirelessly beside Marja and kept a worried eye on her. Each day her anxiety increased as she heard the reports Gaelen brought Marja.

The illness raged in the barracks as well. Two of Marja’s regular guards fell ill, one dying within days. On learning this, Marja insisted that Gaelen reduce her guard from four to one. Gaelen protested, but was finally convinced by the reminder that Liethis had seen their son born and Marja safe. Brensa had to be content with that as well.

In the end, Gaelen had little choice. Soon, he had to call even the last guard to more pressing duties. All able-bodied adults became involved in caring for the ill, the dying and the children left behind. Others were needed to tend the pyres where the dead burned. The stench of burning bodies permeated the streets. Adults who survived were called back into service as soon as they were able. Food became rationed, cooked mostly in temporary, communal kitchens.

Brensa and Marja made themselves useful in the castle kitchen. Brensa watched the growing respect Marja garnered as she put the skills Cook had taught her to good use. Marja knew what needed to be done and worked tirelessly alongside the others without getting in the way. Nor did she look for preferential treatment. She ate what everyone ate and let herself be directed by the head cook, just like the others. Soon they stopped remarking on it and accepted her as one of the team. Brensa felt proud of her lady, and it spurred her to greater efforts as some of that respect fell on her own shoulders.

But Brensa watched helplessly as Marja grew thin and exhausted. No amount of entreaty would convince Marja that she needed to rest and eat more food for the sake of the babe. Her terse response was always the same. Her people needed her. She and the babe would be fine. At night the two women fell into a leaden sleep for only four or five spans. Marja had given standing orders that they must be wakened at dawn to resume working.

Brensa had immediately sensed when Klast left the city. His absence left her with an added sense of apprehension, and not only because it left Gaelen, Marja and Bargia more vulnerable. Brensa had grown less fearful over time, due in part because she knew that Klast watched out for her. With him gone, the castle seemed more dangerous. His presence always made her feel safer. Now she needed to find courage within her own self. She wondered bleakly if she would ever be able to stop looking over her shoulder.

They saw little of Gaelen during the crisis. His duty lay in keeping relief efforts, funeral pyres and law and order running as smoothly as possible. Brensa’s pride grew as the news of his success filtered back to them. The people spotted Gaelen everywhere, it seemed, his clothing dusty, obviously exhausted like everyone else. Here was no pretty lordling, they said, hiding within the protection of the castle. Their new lord risked his health and his safety by working openly with the others. The people noticed and they talked.

“
A good man.”

“
Strong leader, like his sire.”

“
Not afraid to get his hands dirty.”

But the pyres grew higher and more citizens fell ill. With no relief in sight, Brensa wondered how long they could manage.

~ 57 ~

BRENSA SUCCUMBS

A fortnight into the quarantine, Brensa developed a sore throat, and her eyes felt achy. She said nothing to Marja but continued to work beside her. By the next morning, she could no longer hide her symptoms.

“Brensa, you are ill. Why did you not tell me you were unwell? You know how this disease kills. Brensa, I need you. Go to bed at once.” She could not hide the panic in her voice. Not Brensa! Oh please, Earth, not Brensa!

Marja ordered her to bed with the window slit covered up. By evening, the telltale spots covered her small frame, and her fever had risen. Her little cat would not leave her side but curled up under Brensa’s chin as she shivered under her blankets.

Marja made the difficult choice to stay by her friend’s side, despite Brensa’s urgings that others needed her more.

“
No Brensa. I almost lost you once. I will not leave you.”

She entrusted her care to no one else. While Brensa was awake, Marja held back the tears and panic she felt. They only emerged when Brensa slept. Marja resisted the impulse to send word to Gaelen. There was nothing he could do, and he did not need the added worry. She hovered by the bed, pacing or in a chair, afraid to sleep lest Brensa need something. Her isolation and inability to do more left her feeling completely alone and helpless.

When Brensa’s fever hit its peak and delirium set in, the name that fell from her lips was not Marja’s or her mother’s. The name she cried out with increasing desperation was Klast’s. Yet, Marja could not even offer her that small comfort. Klast was away, and she had no idea when he might return. It made Marja feel even more impotent. She sensed intuitively that Klast might be the only one who could make Brensa fight to survive, and that his voice might be the only one that could ease her suffering even if she did not survive. Marja wrung her hands and paced the floor. Her friend’s cries pierced her heart.

Marja finally understood just how deep Brensa’s feelings for Klast ran, just how much she trusted him. That realization brought a fleeting pang of jealousy. She dismissed it immediately. She swore that if she ever had the chance to bring the two together again she would do whatever she could. Brensa had never recovered from her earlier ordeal and still followed Marja about with wide, frightened, rabbit eyes and still jumped at shadows. If Klast could make Brensa feel safe, she deserved that … if she only lived long enough.

For four days, Marja did not leave Brensa’s side. She ate only what she could force down for the babe’s sake and slept in fits and starts in her chair between Brensa’s ravings. In all that while, Brensa fell in and out of consciousness, tossing in her delirium and calling out for Klast. Marja could only force small amounts of water into her and try to keep cool wet cloths on her brow.

But Klast did not return.

Brensa lay near death, and Marja could do nothing more.

~ 58 ~

PLAGUE AND TREASON

Klast headed back to Bargia carrying far less information than he had hoped. The first signs that the disease had made its way to Catania were already apparent. Argost had received news of soldiers falling ill. Among the itinerants who had travelled to Catania to assist with the coming harvest, a few had succumbed to a strange fever. Argost prepared for the worst, as he had been instructed by Klast.

At this same time, three men met with Wilnor at his summer estate outside the city. These were Merlost, eldest son of Wernost, Lord of Lieth; Kanin, one of his top spies; and Korff, Wernost’s second advisor.

Their guide, Muillon, waited for them in the stables. While the others were feted on roast meats, creamed root vegetables, honey cakes and rare sweetmeats, Muillon dined alone on stew and coarse dark bread sent to him from the kitchen.

The party had been sent to seek out Wilnor with this message. “Lord Wernost has learned Wilnor is not happy with the state of affairs in Catania. He might be persuaded to fall in with Wernost if the wind blew in his favour.”

Wernost had designs on Catania and wanted to take advantage of the current unrest he had been led to believe existed there. Sending his heir and his second highest advisor was meant to show good intent. The spy was meant to keep all of them honest. Wernost trusted no one, not even his son, and held the reins of power with iron control.

In return for information that might lead to a takeover of Catania, he had instructed Merlost to hint at a governorship for Wilnor should the campaign succeed. If Wilnor agreed to the terms offered by Wernost, his son had instructions to leave his seal ring as a sign of their pact and to bring a similar token from Wilnor back to Wernost in Lieth.

The four visitors left early next morning for home, secure in the belief that their mission had been a success. Wilnor had agreed to secretly recruit “large numbers of men willing to fight” as well as weapons and have them ready to join those Wernost promised to supply.

Wilnor thought himself a clever man and had formed a contingency plan in case Wernost broke his promise. He had also been in secret communication with Sinnath’s man. His messenger had gone back and forth twice already, and Wilnor expected him again within days with news from Sinnath. When he arrived, if all went according to plan, he would send him back again with a coded letter. The contents of this letter would outline the same promise of many men willing to fight to restore Catania to its rightful people of whom Wilnor would, of course, become the new lord with an alliance to Bargia. The plan would have Sinnath dictate to Gaelen the terms of this agreement or be ousted in favour of Sinnath himself. Either way, Wilnor believed he could not lose and congratulated himself on his cunning. His influence with Catania had been tenuous before the invasion due to the Lord Cataniast’s madness. These new developments promised more power than he could have achieved under the old rule.

Muillon complained of a sore throat and achy eyes as they left. While the visitors ignored him, Wilnor noticed the fevered look in the man’s eyes and felt relieved when they rode out of the gate.

~ 59 ~

THE BEST LAID PLANS

Merlost’s party buried Muillon in a shallow grave on the second day of their return journey. By this time, they knew their way home, so they did not concern themselves overly with his loss. It saved them the trouble of killing him later to keep him from selling what he might have learned.

Three days later, only two days travel from their destination, they abandoned Kanin to the crows and wolves, his throat cut. In their haste to outrun the fever they had not even taken the time to bury him. They left the knife they used to kill him behind, in the mistaken belief that the disease was passed by blood.

Fear gave wings to their flight, and the pair reached the gates of Lieth a half day sooner than expected only to find the people in mourning and the demesne in total chaos. The contagion had entered the city and found it unprepared. Lord Wernost had died, and many more were ill or already dead as well. Those who could afford to hoarded food and barricaded themselves indoors. Bodies lay in rotting heaps outside the walls of the city. No one was available to organize their burial or burning. Orphaned children wandered the streets, starving or stealing what they could to survive. Earth played no favourites.