Conflict and Courage (6 page)

Dahlya was
standing beside Maria. She cleared her throat. The noises that
emerged did not sound at all threatening to Richard but his four
mates stepped back a pace, just to be on the safe side.

“Ceja Richard,”
she greeted him in a husky voice.

: Ceja Richard
:

Richard took
one incredulous look at her, his Lind as he dimly realised and
promptly fainted, much to the amusement of all who watched,
including the annoyed engineer.

He existed as
if in a dream for the rest of the day. Of his unconscious
acceptance of the vadeln-pairing, the arguments between Maria
Anstell and the guards and the ride back to the Lindar’s dom he
remembered not a thing.

It was not
until the next morning that he fully realised what had happened to
him.

His life was
beginning anew.

* * * * *

In the far away
domta of Ratvei, deep within the rtathlians of the Lind, a young
woman tried to teach manners to a youngster who had no intention of
doing what he was told.

“Ouch,” cried
Jessica Howard.

Gerry the colt
had given her yet another playful nip on the shoulder then pranced
away, his short tail waggling. The mares lifted their heads for a
moment then dropped their heads back down to graze on the succulent
grass. The colt’s mother ignored her son completely.

“He’s getting
quite impossible,” complained Jessica, “I wish Gerry was here. He
would know how to handle him. I most certainly don’t.”

She sighed. No
word from or about Gerry during all these months since the horse
handler had waved goodbye on the island and disappeared into the
southern continent to keep an eye on what the convicts were doing
and to try and find out what had happened to her and Jenny’s
families.

Jessica’s
friend Jenny did not talk about her mum and little brother Gavin as
much as she used to, but then Jenny had Savei, her Lind, the two
having found each other not long after their arrival at the
domta.

The ‘Two Jays’,
as Jessica and Jenny were called, were the only two humans living
with the purple striped pack Ratvei. With the two girls were the
six horses that had carried them during the partly successful
escape from Fort the previous year, hours before the convict army
had attacked the crew and the families of the WCPS
Electra
.

Both girls knew
that the convicts had successfully overrun the Fort, killing the
male defenders and taking the women and children as prisoners, but
not much more.

They had talked
about it from all angles during the long winter nights, concluding
that Jenny’s father was probably dead, after all had Jessica’s not
been viciously stabbed to death by the search party who had come
chasing after them? Only Jessica, Jenny and Gerry had managed to
evade the searchers.

Jessica was
feeling decidedly low this morning. She imagined that Gerry was, in
all probability, dead too by now. All she could do was look after
the horses he had entrusted into her care.

She looked over
at the colt, her eyes narrowing, and watched as he played butt and
run with the filly at the far end of the field.

Jessica knew
she should be more resilient and get on with her life, but felt she
was at a stasis, unable to move forward until she knew for certain
what had become of her family and Gerry.

If Jessica had
known exactly what was happening within the new-found southern
Kingdom of Murdoch she would have been even more worried than she
was already.

* * * * *

It had not
taken the self-appointed Lords of Murdoch long to begin to stamp
their authority and rule over the country and its inhabitants. With
the death of their self-appointed leader General Elliot Murdoch
during the battle, the most powerful and influential of the
surviving ex-convicts were able to do very much as they chose.

Both Lords
Baker and Smith thought they should be in charge, Smith because he
had been Elliot Murdoch’s deputy for years beyond count, scar-faced
Baker because he felt he was the best suited and able for the
position. As the key to power would be control of the King, as yet
unborn, they both began to court Anne Howard-Murdoch, angling for
the position of guardian to the future king.

They also began
to form informal alliances with the other Lords and within weeks
two rival factions had begun to emerge though no one was showing
their hands openly as yet.

Sam Baker had a
firm ally in Henri Cocteau who held the land immediately to his
south and also Raoul van Buren, whose largely desert Lordship was
situated to Cocteau’s east. Lords Smith and Brentwood formed a
partnership and bullied the indolent Lord Gardiner until he agreed
to support them in Conclave.

That left
Pierre Duchesne in the far northeast, who was being cultivated by
both sides, each promising the world, but so far, he had managed to
distance himself and had moved away to his own lordship as soon as
he decently could.

Pierre Duchesne
had observed the other Lords and hadn’t liked what he saw and
heard. On his western border lay the lands of old Lord Gardiner and
his people largely remained on its eastern fringes, beside the more
arable earth next to the river. To his south lay the desert area
that Sam Baker, with Henri Cocteau’s support had decreed should
belong to the king. It was uninhabited and likely to remain so for
some time to come.

In Pierre
Duchesne’s eyes the good thing about his lordship’s location was
the fact that it was far from prying eyes. As soon as he and the
remainder of his people arrived from the encampment, he set about
organising matters in a far different way than did Sam Baker and
the others.

He decided
first of all that his first township should be built on the coast
some forty miles from his eastern border, distancing him and his
even further. This area was hilly forest and had a good supply of
fresh water, an important consideration. The precise spot he
selected was also defensible. If he built a tower on the highest
rocky outcrop he would be able to see for miles. Pierre Duchesne
did not trust Sam Baker.

Henri Cocteau
had allocated him a fair number of artisans from the encampment,
some two hundred strong, who, when taken with what remained of his
regiment, gave him around six hundred men. Lord Cocteau had not
sent any females. As with the rest of the Kingdom, there was a
worrying shortage of womenfolk and children.

“Doesn’t want
to lose his breeding stock,” was Michael Wallace’s comment.

“Breeding
stock?”

“That’s how van
Buren sees women,” replied Michael. “If you hadn’t managed to keep
back the twenty-five captured from the north, we would be in dire
straights indeed.”

“Still not
enough to build up a population.”

“More will
come,” Michael prophesised, “as soon as word gets out of how your
rule is different.”

“Let’s get the
cabins up,” suggested Pierre, “then those who wish to move out and
set up their own farms can do so. Did you manage to get the
boundaries mapped out?”

“I have that
and I’ve planned it fair and square as you said. Quite a few have
already asked about some of them and I’ve pencilled their names in.
The list awaits your approval. About a dozen are planning some sort
of forestry business, the hardwoods here are of good quality,
better than around Fort, so they think they’ll have a ready market
if they can work out how to get it there.”

“You
are
organised. I’ll have to go back down to Fort more often,” smiled
Pierre, “unfortunately, I have to return soon so you will be in
charge again, Sam Baker’s demanded a meeting and I have to be
there.”

“You be
careful,” cautioned Michael.

“We live in
interesting times don’t you think? Thanks for your concern though.
Has anyone seen any sign of the Larg?”

“Dangerous
times more like,” Michael exploded, “and praise be to whoever is
looking over us, no Larg so far.”

“Keep your eyes
open. I don’t think these creatures have quite finished with us
yet.”

* * * * *

Gerry Russell,
once animal handler aboard the WCPS
Electra
and
self-appointed agent for the north, was a worried man. It had been
weeks since the convict army had returned from their unsuccessful
invasion and he had spent the time accruing intelligence, but could
find no way to send his information north. Much he learned from
Anne Howard, or Murdoch as she was now known. Domiciled in Fort
itself, she was in a perfect position to overhear unguarded
snatches of conversation and she passed these on when she could,
but Anne was guarded zealously by the Lords of Murdoch, pregnant as
she was with the Kingdom’s heir.

It was perilous
for him to be seen in the company of Anne.

He had managed
to hold on to his job with the livestock. The overseer was in no
mind to let him go, it was a hard and dirty job with long hours and
not many of the returning soldiers were queuing up to replace him.
If he suspected Gerry of not being who he said he was, he kept his
suspicions to himself.

When not
working, Gerry hid in the small cellar-like room he could call his.
It was dank and dark, situated close to the riverbank; one of the
original rude cabins now sub-divided into small windowless rooms
and rented out as living accommodation for those who could not
afford anything better. He paid for it with cuts of meat, culled
from the daily rations sent up to the kitchens at Fort. The head
cook knew very well that Gerry and the others were keeping some
back for their own use. He shrugged and amended his daily order
accordingly. He would not report them, as long as the pilferage did
not get out of hand.

* * * * *

Anne Murdoch,
previously Anne Howard, sighed as Sam Baker left. Lately, he was
becoming quite impossible, arriving unannounced at her quarters
each day to enquire as to her health. Anne had come to realise, in
the weeks since the army had returned, that he and the lecherous
Lord Brentwood constituted her greatest danger. Their hints about
her future once the child was born did not bode well.

She would have
to arrange a meeting with Gerry soon. It was becoming more and more
urgent that he should try and get her remaining children away. Sam
Baker was planning the dispersal of all children who had reached
eight years, wanting to separate them from their mothers so that
they could be indoctrinated more easily into his ‘new society’.

Perhaps she
herself would be able to keep her two with her until the baby was
born but she knew that would only be a temporary concession.
Brentwood and Baker both wanted her. She had observed that Lord
Smith was backing away from the power-play in Conclave. Anne had
heard that he’d married one of the female crewmembers from the
Electra and that the woman had borne him a daughter. Perhaps he
would be content with what he had. Sam Baker had gone as far as to
propose marriage, not from any desire on his part Anne was sure,
but in an effort to take control of the baby king. At the moment
Brentwood was contenting himself with brooding looks. Anne knew
that she would not be able to hold them off forever. Eventually one
of them would gain ascendancy with her as the prize.

Anne was
reconciled to this with one proviso, she promised both herself and
her husband Peter’s memory that she would save Cherry and Joseph.
Their eldest daughter Jessica was safe in the north, now the two
youngest must follow.

She decided to
ask permission for a walk outside the walls. Gerry would see her
and know that she needed to speak to him. Anne was under no
illusions about the danger in what she was about to ask of Gerry.
If he accepted her request, and Anne was sure he would, he would be
risking his life to take her friend Lysbet Quirke and three young
children on a dangerous journey through Larg and convict-infested
territory. Pursuit would be certain and the penalty for failure
death for him and perhaps Lysbet as well.

So be it.

Having come to
this decision, it was time to tell Lysbet her plans.

Rising to her
feet, she felt the baby kick, faint, but a definite kick for all
that. Anne’s loyalties were divided, she desperately wanted to keep
Cherry and Joseph with her as long as she could but the longer she
waited the harder it would become to get them out. The haphazard
governance of Murdoch of the early days was passing away and the
government was intruding more and more into the everyday lives of
the inhabitants.

Entering the
inner room of her apartments she spied Lysbet sitting reading a
well-loved book of old American Tales to the three children. Gavin
and Joseph were listening and were enjoying the treat. Cherry on
the other hand, sat somewhat apart, she seemed to be away in a
world of her own and Anne noticed the worry lines etched on her
young brow. Cherry was ten now and very aware of Anne’s precarious
position and of the tension this generated. Anne knew her middle
child was neither eating nor sleeping well.

“Cherry can
finish the story Lysbet,” Anne announced, “we need to talk.”

Cherry reached
out for the precious book, her father’s as a child and his father’s
before him, a question on her face, although she did what she was
told obediently enough.

Anne mouthed
‘later’ as the little girl took Lysbet’s vacated position between
the two boys.

“Let us know if
you hear anything,” continued her mother as she led Lysbet to the
window.