Revelyn: 1st Chronicles - When the last arrow falls (88 page)

They waited once more for a terrible retribution, but Sylvion turned to the crowd.

‘I am willing to listen to any who will speak for this man, before I pronounce sentence upon him.’ She looked out over all who stood before her and allowed them time to weigh her words and act as they felt best.

‘Is there none here who will speak for this fallen king?’ Sylvion gave another offer which only underlined the lonely plight of the man before her, for not even a simple murmur of sympathy could be heard anywhere within the hall.

And then a voice.

‘I will speak for him.’

Rema Bowman stepped up onto the stage and spoke loud and clear. In shock his brother, Refr, the one who stood condemned and almost dead at the Queen’s hand, looked up and wept, his hard heart suddenly broken by such an act of simple mercy, from the one whom he had slain.

‘Rema, you would speak for this man?’ Sylvion asked in quiet awe.

‘I request mercy not pardon Sylvion. You are now Queen and have already given judgement in death. Let the example now show mercy, for it will be a great lesson this day for all who see and hear of it, that the new ruler has both in easy reach.’

Sylvion smiled. ‘He is your brother, but what he has done cannot be easily dealt with. I will listen to any suggestion which you might make Rema, but it cannot be light or easy. He deserves death, and would easily offer this to us if the positions were turned about.’

Rema nodded and went and stood before his weeping brother.

‘I see a man lost. I see a man broken. I see my brother.’ He reached out and placed a hand upon Refr’s shoulder. He looked into his face and spoke gently.

‘My brother, I forgive you for all you did to me, but none here can let things pass which you have willfully set out to do.’ Refr looked astonished at his gentle word of forgiveness, and tried to speak, but no word came.

Rema turned to Sylvion.

‘I propose that this man, my brother be banished to Leper Island where he can work for the benefit of those others which he sent to such a place, and perhaps in time he might find redemption for his soul.’

Refr, the fallen Lord Petros could offer no protest, for this sentence held some hope of life, but deep within he felt a bitter recoiling at what such a reality would mean. He knew what such a place offered him in the flesh. It was a nightmare, and yet there seemed to be a little light; and it was not the death he had expected. His brother, for whom he had long searched and once loved above all else now smiled upon him in mercy. He took a deep breath and wept once more as the new Queen accepted the proposal and ordered that Leander have him taken away to the dungeons below. As he walked away, in the company of the body of the slain Zelfos, carried by two
Wolvers
under Leander’s direction, he looked back at Rema in a fog of lost thoughts and smiled weakly, and felt a tiny joy as Rema smiled back, and nodded once.

And then the cheering started. The crowd roared, and soon the whole city was in an uproar as word of all that had come to pass quickly circulated. Within the hall, the sound was deafening as a new age of Revelyn was ushered in. On the stage, alone, stood the new Queen, turning this way and that and acknowledging humbly the wild acclamation of her subjects. She did not see the old pale man with the long white beard make his way down the steps and with his crutch hobble slowly toward her. Suddenly he was at the stage and with great difficulty he climbed up upon it and stood before her. She turned and smiled at him, and went to speak of her deep gratitude for his brave words and deep wisdom, but something made her heart jump with joy. The crowd sensed the change and fell silent, as she stood there with tears running now down her lovely face.

‘My child,’ said the old man. And she was in his arms in an instant, for she knew him now.

‘Kindpa, it is you, oh my breaking heart it is really you! I had given you up for dead. I cannot believe this, but I must.’

She sobbed a river then, for some deep barrier had now burst, and all the many days of anxiety and worry seemed at last to be over. Sontim Greyfeld held his daughter close as though to never let her go, and then cried as well so that once again the cheering started, for all were deeply touched by the humanity of what they witnessed then before them, despite not understanding any of it.

Rema stood in shock once more and wondered what further surprises lay in wait for them that day, and as he did he looked up and noticed that the cowled monk was beckoning to him.  With a smile he eagerly leapt up the steps and came before the one for whom Revelyn owed so much, and yet knew little enough about.

‘In short time we meet again Rema Bowman,’ said El-Arathor quietly as they stood and looked down upon the happy throng. Rema said nothing, sensing that the mighty one wanted to speak without interruption.

‘You have done well. Sylvion has done well,’ said El-Arathor in the most peacefully entrancing  voice Rema had ever heard, ‘ Revelyn is safe for the time being, but such evil as has been defeated this day is always close at hand, waiting to pounce upon those who would entertain it for a moment. You will not see me again Rema. Take care; you have yet to finish matters with one in your life. Tread carefully there.’ He paused and stood back, putting both hands upon the stone parapet.  ‘Now is there any matter you would like to mention before I go, for I sense that you are troubled by some matters unresolved.

Rema thought hard then for he was not sure what this might be, but suddenly a memory came to him, and he spoke of it.

‘There is man who served me well in this quest, a humble man treated badly by my brother. His name is...’

‘Gymble Barger,’ El-Arathor finished his sentence with a chuckle. ‘Yes I know of Gymble; a sad story.  What would you like to mention concerning him?’

‘I promised him that I would not forget his plight,’ whispered Rema in fervent hope that El-Arathor might in some way bring happier times to his good friend. ‘He had a wife taken cruelly from him, and a son who took his own life,’ Rema continued, and then fell silent for he did not know what to ask for from such a one who seemed able to give all, and yet might hold back and not interfere for such action would not sit well with the affairs of man.

El-Arathor turned to face Rema and put a warm hand upon his arm.

‘It is good that you ask for the needs of another. I am well pleased with this, Rema Bowman.  Gymble’s wife Gracelin has suffered much from the leprosy which has eaten at her flesh, but yet I feel it will heal if she is brought back, away from the others who keep infecting her.’

Rema was about to inquire what he should do, but El-Arathor easily turned his attention to the happy throng below, which was beginning to leave the public hall, and to Sylvion who now sat upon the throne with many round about in earnest conversation. She seemed to sense then that she was being watched, and turned and looked up, catching Rema’s eye. She waved once, and beckoned to him to return. He nodded to her with a weary smile, and turned back to speak to El-Arathor once more, but his words echoed emptily around about him for he was alone; although one simple thing remained. On the floor where he had been standing just moments before, was a strange object. Rema bent and picked it up. It was of highly polished black marble, quite rare in Revelyn, and resembled a key for it had three small protrusions at its base.

Rema examined it closely and within moments recognised its form. It was near identical to the key which Reigin had used to open the gates to AlGiron. He knew than that this was some clue to a new mystery not yet before him. He placed it safely in his tunic and wondered for a moment what next would come to pass, before with a sigh he descended the stone steps and rejoined his companions.

Chapter 23

Rema stretched slowly as he exercised on the stone balcony which jutted out from his rooms high in the White Palace overlooking the city and the Luminos River below. He had felt a stiffening in his wounded leg over recent days and found he needed to test his muscles daily if he wanted to remain fully fit, and had taken to doing so on the balcony for it afforded him an unparalleled view for many leagues.

The warm early morning sun was lifting the dew from the stone work all about him in tiny humid vapours as swifts darted from the eaves and caught insects with deadly precision, just flashes of tiny feathers with almost no sound except a constant soft and quite delightful chirping.

After two spans of hard exertion in which he worked all his powerful upper body as well as his wounded leg, he went and stood before the parapet, resting his strong hands upon the edge. He was stripped to the waist and the thin film of sweat from his exertions glistened in the strengthening light. He surveyed the view in quiet but serious contemplation, for it was the last time he would see it. He had made up his mind. This was the day he would leave Ramos.

Two seasons had passed since Queen Sylvion had secured the throne, and many changes had taken place under her rule even in this short time. The people had accepted her with a passion for they had known only fear and oppression under Petros and Zelfos. She had shown herself to be fearless in the face of arrogant men and petty officials who had tried desperately to hang on to some remnant of power by cunning and lies. She had quickly developed a reputation for justice which was fair but hard, even severe when the need arose. She had sat almost every day in the public hall and listened and judged and handed down new rulings which were slowly transforming Ramos and Revelyn itself.

Rema had watched proudly as Sylvion had grown into her new life, but this growing pride was matched by a deepening grief, for he saw her grow away from him. Day by day, Sylvion became more and more wrapped up in her work as Queen of a damaged land. They had little time together, and although she would send for him now and then so they could be together alone, there was little talk of what might be, for them. The tension which had developed on the subject hurt them both, but Rema knew now, after two seasons, after all the battles and adventures, after all his desperate longings  for them to be together as man and wife, he had lost to her to the people; to Revelyn.

Leander had died; quite badly in the end. His wounded leg did not heal and he refused attention, wanting to show that he could still serve his ruler. Sylvion allowed him some power under Reigin for his vast experience was useful in the early days of her reign, but the wound festered and finally he lost his dark battle to a poisonous enemy from within. Before he died, for an entire day, he had cried out in an unconscious fever of pain and guilt, begging forgiveness for many cruel deeds. He was buried by his wife, a passionless woman who seemed relieved to be rid of him. The city did not pay for a headstone and she never visited the lonely grave tucked away in a barren corner of the soldier’s cemetery outside Ramos’ walls. 

Ofeigr had returned home to the Faero Islands almost immediately after the amazing defeat of Zelfos and Petros in the public hall, when the Royal Sceptre, now complete, had confirmed her authority and right to rule.  He took with him the Queen’s blessing and an assurance that the Islands would remain free from the rule of Revelyn. He had visited Refr in the dungeons once before he departed, but none knew what passed between them for he would not talk of it. And so ended a strange and turbulent friendship of intense love and greater hate, and perhaps no great resolution for either man when all was said and done.

Scion had become a Barger. His immense strength and love of the water meant he was a naturally gifted captain of those beloved craft which had served so long upon the Luminos River. He had met a slender woman of great character by the name of Willows Downe, by chance a cousin of Gymble Barger, and the two decided to run a barge together. Scion had travelled with Gymble for a season learning all he could, and even the gruff master Barger had been mightily impressed at the skill of the huge black sailor. Rema saw him every now and then but Scion had quickly immersed himself in life on the river and his new love. Rema was happy for his friend although to see the two together so in love with each other and with their simple life, only made his grief for the loss of Sylvion the harder to bear.

It had not been hard to find Gymble Barger for he had heard of the downfall of King Petros and had come to Ramos to see for himself, hoping too, to once again be reacquainted with Rema. They had met on the docks and with great emotion in a small riverside tavern sat and shared their stories since they had parted in more difficult circumstances.  The young Nemul had settled well into life on the river and was great company for Gymble. He still grieved for his Gracelin, and it was not a subject they dwelt long upon, although Rema wondered about El-Arathor’s comments. It crossed his mind that perhaps there were some things yet to be revealed. However he said nothing of this to Gymble.

Rema turned and looked north and east. His rooms were situated high up on the south east corner of the White Palace so his view stretched far south and north and east. From where he stood he fancied he could see the top of the Eastern Upthrust, AlGiron where the
Edenwhood
lived. He knew he could not, but a part of him yearned to see that wonderful land once more and see the mighty tree dwellings and the shining eagles soaring majestically on the high air currents above the massive cliffs. He missed Anderlorn. The great Elder had taken his small army back to AlGiron shortly after Sylvion had been crowned Queen of Revelyn. Their leaving of Ramos had been a massive spectacle and almost the whole city turned out to see them go. The great Scythercats had awed the people for all the short time the
Edenwhood
had remained after Sylvion came to the throne, and the tall soldiers had made many friends with the lowlanders during their stay. Flags and colourful banners were waved, drums pounded and happy admiring crowds cheered them off; and many children raced happily along, even out of the city gates and beside the departing army for several leagues, although they all kept well clear of the Scythercats.

Anderlorn had arranged with Sylvion that a
carriave
base would be established at Alderyn, and also he hinted that the Western Gate to AlGiron might be opened more regularly once he had discussed these things with Eldres Kreilliorn and the other high official of the
Edenwhood.