The Forgotten War (141 page)

She slumped back on to the bed, head in hands, her body racked with sobs. The lump in his throat made it difficult for him to speak. He was close to tears himself but was determined not to show
them. He had to be strong for her; it took him a minute to compose himself and speak in an even tone but he finally managed it.

‘I will never leave you, Alys. Never. For I love you more than I could ever love another. What you do here you have to. To survive. It is your body doing these things, not you, and as long
as that holds true what happens here is of no importance to me. Do you still think of me here?’

She nodded dumbly.

‘And I never stop thinking of you. Never.’

She smiled, wanly. ‘But how can we escape? These are dangerous men.’

‘I know, and yet again it is Haelward you must thank, not I. He will be fighting for your release in a spike fight, whatever that is, in a couple of days’ time. If I were more of a
man, I would be the one fighting but, as ever, I sit idly by as the fate of the woman I love is decided by others.’

Alys smile strengthened a little. ‘Are you saying you are not so much the man as others might be?’

Willem’s reply was bitter. ‘I thought that was glaringly obvious.’

Her voice became grave. ‘Sit down, Willem, here, next to me where I can hold you.’

He did so and she put her arm around him. ‘Do you think the measure of a man is decided by his prowess in a fight? By his ability to kill and maim? Perhaps by the strength with which he
strikes his wife if she scolds him. Or maybe you think it is determined by his ability to coerce others, to use fear and terror to bend people to his will? But then, surely, if that was the case,
then the wolf that brings down a deer is a man, or the bird that devours its sibling, or the pike that swallows the moorhen chick. No, Willem, what makes a man a man is his ability to conquer his
primal instincts, to ascend them, to become what all other creatures cannot. A real man is one who is constantly learning, humble yet eager for knowledge and understanding. Only such a man as that
is capable of the truly great virtues – gentleness, compassion, humour! – for to make a lady laugh is a gift sorely undervalued. The writer Mountfessen was a great man, one who will be
remembered for centuries. The Kegertsas will not, and you, Willem, are far more a Mountfessen than a Kegertsa; you are both sensitive, caring and brave, for, if you weren’t, you would not be
here, and that Willem is why I love you. You are a real man, far more than the thug standing guard outside. Never forget that, even if it is our destiny never to be together.’

Willem pulled Alys to him. ‘Thank you, my love. We will get you out of here; do not give up hope. Even if Haelward fails in his fight, there will be other ways, other chances. We have made
many friends of late and they will not abandon us.’

They sat in silence for a while, comforted by their proximity to each other. Finally Alys spoke again. ‘Willem.’

‘Yes, my love.’

‘You still have over fifteen minutes.’

‘What are you suggesting?’

‘I have washed; I am clean. I do not smell of other... men. Can you hold me please, embrace me until they come for you? It would be so comforting to hold the man I love, even if only for a
little while, even if it is for the last time.’

‘It will not be the last time. And you are always clean. And with your hair down and your shoulders bare...’

‘Yes?’

‘You have never looked more beautiful.’

She kissed him. ‘Then let’s make fifteen minutes last a lifetime.’

And that is exactly what they did.

They arrived in Thakholm harbour to find it a scene of frenetic activity. Evidently the news of events in Osperitsan had already arrived, for the entire fleet housed there was
making ready to sail. Ceriana saw half a dozen galleons, three times that number of carracks and many more cogs and caravels, all with men swarming over their decks preparing sails, loading shot
for the catapults, bolts for the ballistae, pitch that could be set aflame if required, and many other munitions required for war. The jetty and harbour-side itself were also teeming. The quiet
fishing town Ceriana had remembered had become a military base.

With all this activity going on, their little fishing vessel went completely unnoticed. It skirted close by a couple of vessels, close enough to hear their captains yelling orders and the
creaking of their timbers, before eventually sidling into a quiet little mooring spot close to the statue of Hytha, god of the sea, whose presence was obligatory in all sea-fronting towns.

As she had nothing to do on the journey other than sit and wait, Ceriana had had a lot of time to think. Too much time really for she could not stop playing and replaying the events of that
terrible night over and over again in her mind. Her husband was dead, killed by traitors, as was her father. The two men who had been closest to her in her entire life were gone and had been
replaced with ... nothing. She felt nothing but a big yawning ache inside her, yet she had not cried. It had surprised her, for tears often came readily to her when she was upset, but this time,
despite undergoing the greatest trauma of her short life, she had remained cold and resistant to such a womanly trait. She had prayed for both of them, of course, but again, for the first time she
could remember, she felt as if she was speaking to those deaf to her pleas.

Gereth assisted her on to the jetty while one of the other fishermen (his cousin, she had been told) carried her baggage on to the shore. ‘I am sorry, my Lady, but I need to stay with my
vessel. I may even be called to serve with the fleet. I do not know. Ebba will stay with you, of course, and I think that man Henk is trying to secure you transport to the manor house.’

‘I thank you, Gereth, for you have saved me from imprisonment or even death by risking your own life. I will repay both you and Ebba, I swear it.’

‘That will not be necessary, my Lady, serving you has been an honour for me. Ebba has spoken of you often, of your kind heart and generosity. It has been good to see that her tales were
not exaggerated, I just wish the circumstances of this journey had been different.’

As he finished speaking, Henk strolled up to see them. He had said little to Ceriana on the voyage and had even seemed to be actively avoiding her. This time, however, he made a beeline for
her.

‘It has been difficult finding transport, my Lady; in the end I had to use your name and threaten a whipping to get a coachman to take you. All men are being pressed to aid the navy you
see. Come, I will escort you and Ebba to the man in question.’

Carrying their hastily packed bags, Henk walked both ladies the distance of the jetty to where a man sat atop an uncovered coach, obviously waiting for them. Henk assisted both of them inside,
then spoke to Ceriana.

‘My Lady, I have business to attend to here, but would like to request an audience with you for later in the day. You may learn things of interest to you.’

What did that mean, she wondered? There was something about this man that just didn’t ring true. Despite her reservations, she replied simply. ‘Of course. I will see you at the manor
house whenever you get there.’

Neither girl spoke as they travelled up the coastal path to the manor house, for the wind off the sea rendered conversation difficult. Ebba did look at her with pity in her eyes, though, and
Ceriana was surprised to see Ebba take her hand in her own. Back home in Edgecliff, such impertinence in a servant would be rewarded with a scolding, or even a thrashing. This time, though, all
Ceriana did was squeeze Ebba’s hand tightly, recognizing the other girl’s attempt to comfort her.

At the courtyard of the manor house she gave the coachman a coin and waited for the seneschal to come to her. It didn’t take long and he recognised her immediately. ‘Is Baron Skellar
here?’ she enquired.

‘My Lady, he arrived not ten minutes before you. He has been at the harbour all day ensuring that the fleet sails with the morning tide. A man is informing him of your arrival as we
speak.’

‘Good. I would speak with him as soon as he is free.’

‘Of course, my Lady, come on in and be seated. I will arrange for the kitchens to provide some provender for you.’

‘For us both, please; I am sure Ebba is as hungry as I.’

He seated them in the main hall and had left them for under a minute before Skellar arrived, his face flushed with activity and his baggy silk shirt bathed in sweat.

‘Ceriana!’ he said. ‘You are alive, thank Artorus you are alive; we have had so little reliable information.’

She raised a hand to stop him. ‘Jon, inform the fleet that Vorfgan is in league with Kudreyan pirates and they will attack long before anyone gets to Osperitsan.’

He nodded. ‘Thank you, my Lady, but we know. Ships fleeing the attack have seen them, hence the fact that the fleet is still preparing to leave. It is expecting battle, so have no fear on
that score.’ He stopped a second to gather his thoughts.

‘My Lady, we have had nothing but rumours. Your husband...’

‘...Is dead. As is my father.’ Ceriana then gave a blow-by-blow account of what had happened that night, trying to recall every detail. ‘Vorfgan has obviously been planning
this for a while. I got the impression that Einar was a more recent recruit, Vorfgan had been travelling a lot around the north. It now seems obvious he was sounding out the barons, seeing who
would join him.’ She shuffled awkwardly on her feet. ‘Did he try to recruit you? Thakholm is an important port, after all.’

‘No, Ceriana, he didn’t. Maybe he saw me and realised there was no point trying. If you recall last time I saw him he nigh on knocked me out.’

‘Oh yes.’ She remembered now. ‘I had forgotten your duel. It seems so long ago.’

‘My head was singing for a week. If I had known then what he was up to, he would never had left the island alive.’

She nodded sadly. ‘Yes, it is a terrible thing to say, but I wish you had dealt him a fatal blow that day, so much pain and strife would have been avoided. The fleet in the harbour, it is
off to attack Osperitsan, yes?’

‘To defeat the pirates and reclaim the island for the Grand Duke; that is exactly what it is doing.’

‘Vorfgan is expecting this. He will be prepared. And he has territories on the mainland.’

The Baron laughed. ‘I did not know you had become the general!’ he said. ‘One thing at a time. Take Osperitsan, then attack his power base, blockade his port and cut off his
food supplies. Make it a long winter for him. That is the plan.’

‘Are you going? I mean with the fleet?’

‘No. When the fleet leaves someone needs to be here in case they try a sneaky attack on us. Thakholm has to stay in the Grand Duke’s hands. If Vorfgan controls this harbour, then he
controls the seas in the north.’

She sighed. ‘He said as much. That once the fleet was defeated, he would come for you.’ She unexpectedly clasped his hands. ‘Don’t let him take you. You know he will show
no mercy. Have a ship ready in case the worst happens. Promise me, Jon; I mean it. I have lost my husband and my father, I don’t wish to lose my friend, too.’

He pulled his hands free and placed them on her shoulders. ‘If that is what you wish. We have to make arrangements for you, too, and the little one you carry.’

‘Yes, of course. He or she tires me out so; everything is an effort these days.’

‘Then perhaps you need rest. You can have the same room as before once the two of you have eaten. Sleep as long as you like – even till the morning, if you wish.’

The wistfulness in her large brown eyes seemed to get stronger. ‘If only. One of the Grand Duke’s men, a fellow called Henk, may ask to see me later. Call me if I have yet to emerge
from my room.’

After eating, she did indeed retire, lying on the bed listening to the sea far below them on their cliff-top promontory. Sleep did claim her for a little while, but it was broken when a hushed
and respectful servant informed her that Henk had arrived.

She saw him in the main hall, which was deserted bar the two of them. After inviting him to sit, she asked him directly what it was he wanted.

‘It is a difficult time I know, my Lady, to think on the future, on what it holds for both you and your unborn child. In normal circumstances I would not be so bold to come here to speak
with you plainly as I am doing now. But you see, the Grand Duke personally charged me with a task to complete on Osperitsan – that is why I sailed here. However, events have happened so
suddenly that I have had to act swiftly, and on my own volition.’ He drank some ale that she had asked the servants to bring.

‘You speak far from plainly, sir,’ she replied. ‘You are not one of my father’s men, that much is obvious, so why were you sent here? What did the Grand Duke
want?’

‘An observer,’ said Henk, resting his head in the palm of his right hand. ‘He wanted the northern barons watched, and to ensure that there would be no trouble with the Winter
Council. Little did we know what chaos would break loose here.’

‘You were spying on my father? Why? You surely did not suspect him of disloyalty?’

‘No, my Lady, not your father. I was employed to watch you, among other things.’

She swallowed hard. ‘Me? Why me? Lissa’s blood, why would he want to have me watched?’

He waved his hand non-committally. ‘It is nothing sinister, my Lady, I assure you. As I said, I was sent here to observe...’

‘
Spy
.’

‘No, my Lady, to
observe
proceedings here for the Grand Duke. One of the things he wanted me to see was how you and your husband behaved with each other.’

She glowered at this and was getting more suspicious by the second. ‘Why?’

Henk frowned a little, obviously thinking exactly how to phrase his next few sentences. ‘Of late, the Grand Duke has been hearing of ... discontent in his southern heartlands. Some barons,
in particular, have been grumbling about his handling of the Arshuman war, the increased number of refugees flooding their lands and the like. This has made him more desirous of strengthening ties
with those loyal to him and one of the ways this can be affected is through marriage, especially his own.’