Heartwood (14 page)

Chonrad smiled, glancing around as he walked. The Baillium looked a good deal tidier. Most of the debris had been collected and placed in neat piles, the wood separated from the cloth and the cloth from the food, to make it easier to reuse the materials. The grass still had a flattened look to it from the weight of the flood water, but the sun made everything look brighter and less frightening. There was also a beautiful rainbow arching east, which somehow gave him hope things were going to be all right.

They arrived at the Barracks and Chonrad walked into the large building. Makeshift beds had been placed in all the rooms on the ground floor, most of which were filled with sleeping people, exhausted from the night's activities. The twins were fast asleep, heads tipped back as they snored, and Grimbeald, still in his armour, settled between two other Militis, seemingly at ease in his surroundings in spite of being the only Wulfengar present.

Chonrad could not see Procella. Leaving Valens talking to Beata, who had removed her armour briefly and looked much younger and slender in just a linen tunic, he went up to the first floor and searched the beds there too, but still could not find Procella.

He was desperate to lie down and fall asleep, but he knew he would not be able to rest until he made sure she was all right. Leaving the Barracks, he went outside, Fulco yawning away on his heels, and paused for a moment, wondering where she would be. He looked around the Baillium. In the Castellum? Perhaps in front of the Arbor? But no, he had just come from there. Asleep in the dormitory of the Domus? He frowned, looking around, and then the Porta caught his eye. Where would the Dux feel more at home than in the place where she had grown up, at the very centre of Heartwood's defences? He looked up. Sure enough, a small figure at the top of the gatehouse leaned on the parapets and looked out over the Baillium.

Sighing, he walked down the central road towards the Porta, said hello to the Custodes on duty and walked up the stairs. This time, Fulco stayed at the bottom, clearly having found it difficult to climb the steps.

When he got there, Procella was still leaning on the parapet. “I saw you coming,” she said flatly, not bothering to turn around. “What do you want?”

Casting one eye up at the rain, he sighed and came over to stand beside her. “To see how you are.” He leaned close enough so their mailed arms almost touched.

She didn't move away, but neither did she move closer. She turned her dark brown eyes on him for a moment. He had thought to see them shot through with anger, but to his surprise they were sad, a shimmer of tears hovering like a silver fish below the surface of a river.

He smiled at her. “It is not the end, you know.”

“Is it not?” She glared at him. “How would you like it if you found you had wasted your whole life defending a lie?”

Chonrad had meant it was not the end of Heartwood – that they were going to do their best to get back the Pectoris. But she clearly thought he had been referring to Oculus and the revelations in the
Quercetum
.

Impatience flared briefly within him at her self-pity, but he quashed it. This was not the time to tell her to pull herself together and get back on the horse. Like a heated pot of water, she needed to vent some steam, and unfortunately he realised he was the one who was about to get scalded. “That is not really true,” he told her. “You have spent your life defending the Arbor, and Heartwood too. I would hardly call that a wasted life.”

She dismissed his words with a flick of her hand. “You all like to spend your time in discussion using big words and fancy arguments. You have not dedicated your life to Oculus's lie – you could not understand.”

He had met many knights in his time; had marched beside them and joined them in battle. And Procella was a knight through and through. He recognised in her the marks of one born to fight: a matter-of-fact attitude to life and death; a tendency to follow rather than Question, even though she was a leader herself; and a desire to settle matters by strength, rather than diplomacy, although as Dux she would have needed to understand the importance of mediation as opposed to war.

And suddenly he knew the way to make her feel better. “So Oculus was not the great religious leader everyone thought he was,” he said. “So what? What difference is that going to make to your life?”

She blinked, puzzled at his change of direction.

“Your job is to protect Heartwood – and that is what you have done admirably since the time you could hold a sword. Where is the lie in that? Heartwood is just the cage around the Arbor, and nobody is disputing the Arbor is still of vital importance to Anguis.” He turned to look at her properly. “Are you really telling me it makes a difference to you what is written in one book or another? Or what different philosophers argue happened? I think not. I think the most important thing to you is to feel you have made a difference – that your life has served a purpose, and I would still say that is still the case. As Dux you have prevented war – so far, at any rate – on several occasions. That is no mean feat, and I understand that better than anyone.”

A smile curved her lips, and her eyes were now light as polished oak. “You are a strange one, Chonrad, Lord of Barle,” she said, her voice husky. “You extract my feelings as if you are wheedling a whelk out of its shell. Nobody has ever had the power to affect me in all my years the way you have since your arrival only two days ago.”

He shrugged. She had closed the distance between them so their arms touched and, although they both wore mail, he was sure he could feel the heat of her body. He was very attracted to her, he realised. He admired her strength and her battle skill, and yet clearly her hard exterior encased a tender heart. His eyes rested on her lips, which had parted slightly. He very much wanted to kiss her, and he suspected she would not reject him.

But this was not the time; when she was feeling more her old self she would not forgive him for taking advantage of her when she was vulnerable. “It is a natural skill,” was all he said.

She laughed. “Come on. I am sure you are as tired as I am. We have a few hours before we have to meet to discuss what we are to do. Shall we go to the Barracks?”

Chonrad agreed and together they made their way down the stairs, picking up a dozing Fulco at the bottom. They walked through the Porta and along the main road to the Custodes Barracks. By the time they got there, however, the place was full, and there were no beds to be found. So they went outside and, finding a couple of clean blankets, put one on the ground under an oak which was covered with a cloth as a makeshift roof, rolled up another for a pillow and lay down. They were all used to sleeping rough, and though his bones protested more than they used to when he was younger and out on the march, Chonrad knew he would be asleep within minutes.

It was just before he dozed off that Procella turned towards him and cuddled up against his side, her head resting on his shoulder. Surprised, but pleased, he laid his arm gently around her.

Then they fell asleep.

 

CHAPTER FIVE

I

When Chonrad awoke, Procella was gone. The sun was low in the sky, and the shadows were lengthening. How long had he been asleep? Several hours, he thought. Fulco yawned and stretched when Chonrad poked him with his foot, looking around him with confusion as if he wasn't where he had expected to be.
Dream
, he signed to Chonrad, and Chonrad thought maybe he had imagined himself at home in Vichton, with his wife and children.

They walked over to the Quad. An area had been set aside next to the lavatorium for washing, with large tubs of water and soap. Some of the younger Militis from the Academy were helping the knights and visitors with their ablutions. He asked one of them, “Where have you got the water from? I see the river is no longer flowing.”

“We also have a well, in case of emergencies,” said the young Militis.

“Thank the Arbor for that!” said Chonrad fervently.

After he had washed and changed his clothes, he and Fulco took some food and drink and joined a group sitting under an oak to eat. The twins, Beata, Silva and Dolosus were discussing the Virimage.

“Even if he can truly do the things Malgara said he could,” said Beata, “he might not be aware of its importance.”

“He must be conscious there is something odd about being able to pull acorns out of your nose,” said Gavius.

She smiled. “I suppose. But the very fact he has used this… gift for entertainment, to make money, suggests he does not take it seriously.”

Dolosus shrugged, skilfully placing a piece of chicken on top of a chunk of bread with his one hand. “What else can he do with it? He could hardly start telling people he can make the grass grow. He would be locked away before he could crack a nut.”

Chonrad took a swig of ale and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “What about you?” he asked Silva. “Do you think he is truly able to do these things?”

Silva looked around the group. “I absolutely think he can alter nature.”

“How are you so sure?” said Gavius curiously.

For the first time since he had arrived at Heartwood, Chonrad saw her smile. She placed her hands around a small yellow flower that grew in the shade of the tree. “I have never shown anyone this before,” she murmured.

She closed her eyes and concentrated. For a few moments nothing happened. Then very slowly the small flower opened its petals like a yellow eye blinking in the sunlight. The stem grew by about a finger's length, and the leaves lengthened and shone green and glossy.

“By the Arbor!” exclaimed Gravis, “how did you do that?”

Silva shrugged. “I am not really sure. You have to concentrate and imagine it growing. I sense it is something to do with the transfer of energy from my hands to the flower, but I could not tell you more than that.”

“So you think the Virimage can also do this?” Chonrad asked her.

“Yes, although I suspect, from what Malgara said, that he is far more powerful than I. Perhaps he truly does have the power to heal the Arbor, to seal the crack that has grown.” She looked forlorn. “I have tried to work on it, but my small skill has done little to repair the damage.”

As she spoke, a bell rang out from the Castellum. “Sextus Campana,” said Beata. “Time for the meeting.”

They all got up and carried their plates back to the tables, then gradually made their way into the Temple and through to the Capitulum. Four tables had been set up around the room. On one, a large map of Anguis had been spread, and Fionnghuala and Grimbeald were poring over it, discussing the locations of the five Nodes. Another map covered the second table, and Malgara and Kenweard were talking about how to find the Virimage. Nitesco and Procella sat behind a third table covered with piles of parchment and old books talking about the location of Darkwater. On the fourth table was a detailed map of Heartwood's defenses, and Valens stood by this.

The Imperator looked up as the room started filling. “Please come in,” he called, welcoming in both the Militis and the visitors who crowded the doorway. “We have set up four working parties. Please join whichever you feel you can contribute to.”

Beata went over to Malgara and Kenweard. The twins and Silva joined the discussion on the five Nodes. Several of the Militis went over to help Valens. Chonrad looked at Dolosus, who shrugged and said, “I am up for a dip in the ocean. How about you?”

Procella looked up as the two knights came over. Her eyes met Chonrad's briefly before returning to the map of Anguis in front of her. “Nitesco has been reading through some old myths and fables to find out if there is any mention of possible locations of this Darkwater place,” she said.

“Any luck?” Chonrad perched opposite her. On the table a fishing map showed Anguis and the mainland and, between them and to the east, the large expanse of the Bluewater Ocean.

Nitesco put down his papers and stood to lean over the map. “There are a group of islands over here,” he said, indicating a scatter of markings right in the middle of the ocean, “that are mentioned several times. They are called the Gantlos Islands, and apparently the people living there have many myths about fish that turn into warriors who come to shore to find women to bear their young.”

“They mate with them?” asked Dolosus.

Nitesco shrugged. “So the myth says. Listen.” He ferreted under the pile of books and on finding the one he wanted, slid it out and turned to the appropriate page. “It is in a strange dialect,” he said. “It is a variant of Wulfian. It says… ‘The young women are warned not to go onto the beach at night, for it is then that the warriors come out of the sea. The…'” He paused. “I am not sure what word this is, there is no direct translation. It is like a fusion of the Wulfian word for ‘fish' and ‘warrior'… anyway, they ‘come looking for women in which to plant their seed, and then they disappear into the…' This is one long word – I think it means ‘city under the water'… ‘and leave the maids to bear and bring up the young. When the offspring are of age, the ‘fish warriors' then come ashore and take the young back to the ‘city under the water', to raise them in their army, ready for the…'” Nitesco looked up at the others around the table. “This last word is difficult to interpret. The beginning is like the Wulfian word for ‘conclusive' but the ending is more like the word for ‘crusade'. My best guess is it means ‘final battle'.”

“Final battle?” A shiver ran down Chonrad's spine. “That is interesting.”

Nitesco put the book down and pulled the map towards him again. He took a piece of chalk and began to draw on the parchment. “We have several volumes of tales handed down orally by people from the coast, fisherpeople, who have seen things out on the ocean. There have been sightings of strange creatures who have been described as things like ‘half-fish, half-warriors', ‘water knights' and ‘sea soldiers', in these places.” He marked half a dozen crosses on the map. The crosses formed a large, rough circle to the west of the Gantlos Islands. “Interestingly, there are also records of stories related by divers looking for mussels and oysters off the rocks surrounding the islands, of strange things they have seen beneath the ocean.”