The King of Anavrea (Book Two of the Theodoric Saga) (18 page)

“But it isn’t right,” Ireic protested. “What has
Lirth done to earn all of this?”

“She was made to be His to use as He wills. All
of us are. That is our purpose. We are the ones who sin, from the
first man to us today. We deserve death, Ireic. He offers us life,
love, and a future home with Him. Lirth knows that and accepts what
He asks.”

Ireic was stunned at the realization that this
was exactly what Lirth had been trying to communicate to him
before. “But how can she?” Ireic asked.

“She knows the Man who holds all of us in His
hands and she trusts Him. She knows He loves her and will not ask
for more than He will give her the strength to endure. He won’t
leave her to suffer alone.”

They rode in silence as Ireic tried to grasp all
of this. It was obvious that Aarint believed in the Kurios just as
much as Lirth did, if not more. Ireic closed his eyes against the
images that her dream had invoked.
How can You do this?
he
asked the Unseen One.

“Do you trust Him to take care of her, Ireic?”
Aarint asked suddenly.

Ireic swallowed carefully. He understood
everything that Aarint said, but something held him back from
trusting.

It was fear. He recognized the feeling. Fear
that the Kurios would take Lirth from him. To trust was to admit
that he had no control over what happened to her. A part of him
clung to the idea of managing the situation.

“I shall try my best to protect her and save her
from harm,” he replied firmly.

Aarint frowned, but said nothing.

~~~~~~

Four days later, Ireic stepped out of the warmth
of the meeting tent into the cool night. Despite all of their
efforts, gathering men and arms as they marched, the prospect of
victory grew less sure the closer Ana City drew.

Reports claimed the rebellious council’s forces
out-numbered their own three men to one. The new recruits wandering
in from the surrounding farms were raw and some had never swung a
sword before. Their only hope lay in the outlying companies of
enlisted soldiers stationed around the country, answering Ireic’s
summons in time to meet them outside the city walls. If they could
hold off another few days the chances increased, but so did the
rebels’ ranks. The plans were set. Tomorrow at dawn they were
riding into Ana City.

Ireic kicked a stone. It rolled under a bush.
The tent behind him was still filled with sounds of the planning
meeting breaking up. Before him the camp sat in silence, shrouded
in darkness. Misty fog floated along the ground in wisps, winding
around the guttering torches and smudging their glow into eerie
halos. The heavy air smelled of the promise of rain before
morning.

“Sire?” a voice asked from his left.

Turning, Ireic could just make out the features
of his bodyguard in the glow from the tent opening.

“I am just going to bed, Rowen. Go get some
sleep.”

“But, Sire–”

Ireic raised a hand. “Go. I wish to be
alone.”

With visible reluctance, Rowen lowered his head
in submission and left in the direction of the barrack tents. Ireic
walked toward the royal tent more from force of habit than choice.
When he reached it, he stood outside the door in indecision. Lirth
slept within, hopefully at peace, and he hated to disturb her.
Though he was weary, his mind was restless, not ready for the
silence of slumber. Finally, he turned away and meandered toward
the edge of camp.

The army’s morale was good. General Tremont and
the officers worked hard to keep them confident that they would
obtain victory. Yorn’s intelligence gathering offered some hope. He
had noted that as military leaders, the former council frequently
demonstrated their lack of experience.

However, Ireic knew from his own long training
that intelligence reports could be false. There was no certainty.
Tomorrow could be either a triumph or defeat and according to Lirth
and Aarint, only the Kurios knew which.

The two of them amazed Ireic. Lirth especially
defied his understanding. Her quiet belief in this deity who may
let her suffer baffled him. She trusted the Kurios, who blinded her
in the first place. She said it was for a purpose. All of this was
for a good purpose.

At first, Ireic thought maybe she was slightly
mad, but Aarint seemed to feel the same way. Ireic and Aarint spent
hours in intense conversation while on the trail. Aarint explained
why all of their faith hinged on this relationship they were in
with the Kurios. It seemed to be the binding thread that wound
through the Manuscripts too. They were men and women who, through
the mediator of the Son, Iazus, communicated with the holy God and
dedicated their lives to serve Him.

Sitting down beneath a tree at the edge of camp,
Ireic closed his eyes and tried to order his thoughts. He longed
for his copy of the Manuscripts. For the last two days he had read
repeatedly Ioannan’s portion. It boggled him that the Almighty God
of all the universe would send his only son to die for men’s
sin.

Ireic understood sin, lying, cheating, hating.
Pride corrupted the nobility, including him, like a rotting
disease. Sin appeared everywhere in his life. Ever since he read
the law that the Kurios gave His chosen people, Ireic grew
increasingly aware of how he didn’t meet the requirement of
perfection. The memory of each infraction pained him. They lay on
him like a heavy blanket. He longed for the days before his eyes
had been opened to sin’s existence. He even tried ignoring it, but
his conscience refused to let him forget. Every time he lied, hated
someone, or lost his temper, the burden grew. The constant pressure
kept him reading the Manuscripts. Somewhere among the pages, he
knew there was an answer to this weight on his heart.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Aarint’s voice asked from the
misty shadows. Ireic looked up to find his brother-in-law standing
a short ways away, only a dim outline of black against grey.

Ireic nodded as Aarint crossed and sat down next
to him. “I am worried about tomorrow.”

Aarint nodded. “Understandably.”

They sat in silence for a few moments.

“So, why are you up and about?” Ireic asked,
seeking for something other than the company of his troubled
thoughts.

“I am not sure.” Aarint shifted, drawing his
knees up to his chest and folding his arms around them. “I am just
restless tonight, and somehow I needed to be out here.”

The sounds of the night blanketed them again as
they sat in companionable silence.

Ireic’s thoughts returned to the problem of
tomorrow. For the first time in his life he feared death. Before,
he hadn’t given much thought to what would happen to him after
death. He had worried about what he left behind. The concerns of
state, like who would ascend the throne in his absence, weighed on
him. But Ireic never spent much time contemplating his own fate.
According to the Manuscripts, he was going to stand before a Holy
God and answer for every sin that weighed upon his conscience as
well as those he had forgotten.

“Aarint?”

“Yes.” Aarint turned his face toward him, but
Ireic could not make out his features in the darkness.

“How might I make myself right before God? I am
a sinner. I know if I should meet Him face to face tomorrow, He
would find me inexcusably guilty. I read about the sacrifice of
Iazus, but I don’t understand how to accept it.”

Aarint paused for a moment before answering.
“Tell the Kurios just what you have told me. He will listen and
accept you.”

“It can’t be that simple. I am flawed, broken,
sinful. It can’t be that easy.”

“It is.”

Still uncertain whether or not Aarint spoke the
truth, Ireic looked up into the hazy night sky.
Kurios? I know
you are there, for you have been making it so I cannot ignore Your
presence. I am a sinner. I am not worthy of the gift of Your Son’s
death. In spite of this, I cling to the hope that You will accept
my request for a part in His atoning sacrifice. According to Your
Manuscripts all I need to do is believe. Kurios, I believe, help me
in my unbelief.

Suddenly, as if a great load had been lifted
from his shoulders, Ireic knew that his petition had been answered.
Thank you, Kurios.

“Thank you, Aarint.”

Aarint smiled, a lift to his voice. “Welcome to
the family, Ireic.”

Ireic couldn’t help smiling back. A peace unlike
any he had ever felt before settled over his heart. Now if he could
just work out a way to convince the Kurios to spare Lirth.

__________

For Lirth, the days passed in a blur of bone
aching riding and brief sleeping periods. She tried to stay awake
until Ireic joined her each night, but her body betrayed her. Every
morning it was the same.

After the first day, Ireic made a point to join
her during the long stop for the midday meal. Unfortunately, every
time he started to talk to her he was interrupted by someone
regarding military plans. Lirth understood, but she found her heart
growing heavy with loneliness. Even Aarint’s thrice daily visits
with her didn’t seem to alleviate her isolation.

The morning of the fifth day, the camp was
unusually loud. Lirth dressed quickly and emerged to hear Liam
shouting orders to the rest of her personal guard.

Apparently, Ireic planned to split the army into
smaller sections. Individual companies could maneuver through the
countryside more smoothly. Their movements would be surreptitious
as they approached the city. Lirth and her personal guard, however,
were going to stay to the rear of the company. They would approach
at a leisurely pace to a place of refuge outside the city walls.
Lirth understood. Ireic wanted her safely away from the battlefield
and chaos.

“You should wait in the tent, Your Majesty,”
Liam offered. “It will be a while before we move.”

Lirth retraced her steps into the tent and found
the camp chair by touch. Just as she settled in a chair to spend
some time in prayer, something rustled. Tilting her head to the
side to hear better, she waited silently. Something moved again.
Then the stench of human sweat filled her nose and something cold
touched her throat near her ear.

“You scream, Brat, and I shall slit you ear to
ear.” The voice from her nightmares rasped from above her.

She froze.
Kurios, help,
she prayed.

Then as an answer to prayer, someone entered the
tent door.

“What are you doing in here?” Liam demanded.

His question was followed by a deep grunt as if
the air had been driven from him. What little hope Lirth had held
disappeared with the sound of Liam’s body falling to the
ground.

Please don’t let him die,
she prayed.

Then pain exploded through Lirth’s head. She
fell off her chair into nothingness.

~~~~~~

Ireic and his men, one fifth of the army, moved
quietly along a road south of the city. Aarint, acting as Ireic’s
second in command for their contingent, rode next to him. Trahern
commanded the fifth north of the city, General Tremont led the east
assault. The General’s second in command, Major Orana, rode in from
the west. The final fifth remained with Lirth, moving toward the
safe location as Ireic had arranged. He found his mind constantly
wandering back to her.

“She is in the Kurios’ hands,” Aarint had said
only that morning as they rode out. That fact seemed to comfort him
more than it consoled Ireic. A part of Ireic’s heart remained
behind with her, a piece that he was loath to lose.

“You are thinking of her again?” Aarint asked,
breaking through Ireic’s concentration.

Ireic glanced over at his brother-in-law with a
frown. “I know that I shouldn’t be worrying, but I cannot seem to
get it out of my mind.”

“Well you better wrestle it back into a corner
of your brain. It looks like we are coming upon the main road. Your
kingdom and these men need you now.”

The dense woodland faded to a thinner brush as
their road met with a wide thoroughfare. Raising a hand to signal a
halt, Ireic surveyed with dismay the heavy traffic passing before
them.

Farmers on produce-laden carts, merchants in
finely painted wagons, and an occasional well-sprung coach all
filed passed among straggling travelers on foot. Some of them
looked up to gawk at the armed company.

“Form up by twos and follow,” he ordered. “Be
courteous, but keep moving.”

“So much for moving by stealth,” Aarint
commented as he turned in his seat to shout out the orders.

“These people will not betray us,” Ireic
predicted. “At least, I hope they will not. Either way, it comes
down to the success of Yorn’s work to keep the gate open. Signal
the drummer and bugler to the front. If they lead and play, the
people will part.”

After a moment of rearranging, the company moved
forward again. As he hoped, the travelers parted before the beat of
the drum allowing soldiers to pass two abreast. So they marched for
an hour. Just as the city was looming on the horizon, a message
arrived from the back of the ranks.

“Sire.” A flushed young man gasped as he trotted
next to Ireic’s steed. “Men are requesting to join up. They ask who
we are for and we say ‘King Theodoric,’ and they say they want to
fight.”

Ireic couldn’t help the leap of hope in his
breast. “Then let them.”

The man coughed awkwardly. “But Sire, we have no
weapons to give them.”

He had a point, Ireic admitted.

“Why don’t the men share?” Aarint gestured to
the columns behind us. “Each commissioned soldier was given a sword
and an axe or mace. If each of them gives up one weapon, the new
additions will at least get one.”

The boy seemed surprised at this. He jogged
thoughtfully along considering it.