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Chapter 14: The Letter
The next day, the royal party readied to take their leave. In spite of the interrupted sleep, John awoke early, ate his breakfast, and was in the stables before Wilhelm opened his eyes. It was from there that he noticed the doctor’s arrival, the old man plodding forward on an old horse that was barely able to keep a footing in the melting snow. Beside him, on foot, an anxious monk struggled to keep abreast.
The heat from the sun made the snow treacherous, and John watched the old man with some concern as the horse stumbled, then regained its footing. He could hear the doctor mutter, “Hey, ho, girl, ease up there,” with a pleasant timbre, and having heard the man’s voice, felt somehow at ease. He’d take good care of Elsie.
He shook the thought from his head, and busied himself with the tack, talking in subdued tones to the groom and footman that had accompanied them.
He had left his sword hanging on the bed post, and he was loathe to take it up. Although his hands felt empty, he did not miss the weight the sword had given him. It was all up to Wilhelm now, no matter what.
As soon as Wilhelm was ready, they silently mounted their steeds and headed out toward Grektar, picking their way through the icy remains of the snow. They planned to stay in the Grektar capital for two weeks, but it was nearly four weeks before they returned, and when they did, John felt his heart begin to lighten at the sight of the imposing walls of the monastery.
Spring was in full swing; the humming of insects, and the song of the thrush in the hedges filled them with hope, dissipating the clouds that had been in their hearts since the incident at the Palace back in Grektar. The snow was gone, and the earth damp with new life.
The horse felt his anticipation and picked up its pace a little. Glenn and Alexander exchanged glances, and Alexander followed suit while Glenn remained with Wilhelm.
“We’ll stop here for the night,” John told him, a slight smile lighting his features.
Alexander nodded in acknowledgment. “As you wish. We stayed overlong in the capital. The messengers that we sent two weeks ago should have reached the King by now. I’m sure both he and your father will be anxious for your return. They may have sent an escort.”
John reined his horse a little, remembering the sobering events following the Grektarian prince’s birthday celebration. How strange that such a magical event followed upon the heels of what had gone on in the monastery just beforehand, as if it all were an ominous portent, a witness to the undercurrents of unrest.
“I find it still so unbelievable that there are yet so many powerful Mages in the world, and hiding so close by,” John commented.
Alexander, too, recalled the events of the past week, and shook his head. “It doesn’t bode well for the Kingdom of Achthillia. Perhaps the Northern barbarians are the least of our worries, if this old threat is on the rise once again. However, the Grektarian Mage was not hidden. Not only that,” the bodyguard paused as their horses passed through the front gates of the Monastery.
John looked back at the tense man, waiting for him to continue.
“What we witnessed there was powerful, and the King and Queen of Grektar dealt with it swiftly and with prudence, however, that mage was not as powerful as…” he left the sentence unfinished, guiding his horse to a stall door and dismounting. He sensed the changed in John, and he found it disturbing. “She could be the key to salvation,” he muttered, “But she could also be the key to our destruction.”
“I’ll make sure it never happens,” John quietly announced.
Alexander stopped taking the saddle down, and noticed that Glenn and Wilhelm were catching up. “What do you mean?” he practically hissed, not liking what he thought John was about to say.
“I’ve had plenty of time to think,” John said, not looking at him. “And I’ve decided. If I can fulfill my duty to the people and the land, it may be to watch over her and make sure no one uses her as a weapon.”
Alexander resumed removing the saddle, and nodded, not daring to say anything. After putting away the tack and helping Wilhelm dismount, he brushed passed John, with barely a pause and in a low intense voice said, “Even if it means your own destruction?”
John met his gaze with a cool one of his own. “Even so,” he returned.
They entered the Monastery, and John signed the Guest Book, noticing that his father’s signature predated his by a day, and his heart skipped a beat. (Where were the horses? His father’s horses would have already have been stabled!) He calmed himself with this thought, for there had been no other steeds besides their own.
One of the sisters he recognized from before greeted them at the door. “Welcome back,” she smiled brightly, her homey face making them feel welcome at once.
There were a few pleasantries, and John mentioned that he recognized his father’s signature in the guest book. “Oh yes, he was here,” the woman cheerily confirmed. “Such a wonderful kind and quiet man!”
Her reassurances did not stay the anxiety that leapt into his heart. Quiet he was, and observant as well. There would have been nothing he’d not notice! “And Lord and Lady Azaria?” he croaked, trying to distract his mind, which had gone blank. He nervously cleared his throat.
“Oh, they left the Monastery well over two weeks ago!” the monk volunteered. “Such a lovely lady, and their child with such a sunny disposition, no doubt he will grow up to break many hearts! He stole half the hearts of the ladies here!” the woman babbled for a while, leading them up to their usual rooms.
“When did my father leave?” he finally managed to ask as the lady was departing. She turned abruptly back to him.
“He was here for a day, and then left back to the Veldt this morning. A messenger came for him, but they did not say what it was that caused him to leave so abruptly. He did seem a little upset, but no more than usual since his meeting with you was thwarted, and so he was inconvenienced. I cannot imagine what it could have been to have made him leave so abruptly.”
John paused, letting the news sink in, and the monk turned once again to leave. “Oh, one more thing, is Elsie….?” He paused again, and felt as if all the nearby ears were cocked to hear his words.
The woman turned to face him again, her face clouded over with concern. “Yes?” she prompted.
“Is Elsie well?” his words rushed out. “When we left, she was very ill.”
The woman’s cheeriness left her face, and it became solemn. “It would be moot if you spoke to the Abbess regarding Elsie,” was all she would say, and then she turned and hurried away, leaving John feeling empty and curious and frustrated.
“What did that mean?” he muttered as he closed the door.
He hurried his ablutions, donned fresh clothing and made his way quickly to the Abbess’ office. When he knocked, however, there was no answer, and a passing monk informed him that she was in the chapel arranging flowers at the altar.
He went into the little room, which was lit with four standing candelabras, some other light shed from windows situated high up, the casements twice and a half his height. Their stained glass added a colorful and peaceful cast to the atmosphere, but the place was cold, and he remembered that when he had left, the two unnatural bodies had lain beneath this room. He hoped, briefly, that they were not still there.
He cleared his throat, catching the attention of the woman, who seemed slower than she had the last time he had visited. Surely, she wasn’t very old, was she? She seemed only in her sixties, yet looking more closely at her, he deduced that she was much older than that.
She smiled when she saw him, then her expression clouded over. She advanced toward him regally and placed a hand in the crook of his arm. This alone set alarms off inside of him. When had the cold woman ever shown any sign of affection or pity or weakness? Yet she seemed more fragile and vulnerable than before, and he began to worry about what had happened at the Monastery while he and Wilhelm had been in Grektar.
They talked of pleasantries and the trip, and she mentioned the news regarding the Grektarian Mage. News traveled swiftly, she explained. The execution of the Royal Mage had renewed in everyone the fear of another uprising. However, other than rife speculation and wild rumour, nothing seemed to have happened.
They walked toward her office, and only when she had closed the door and positioned herself behind the desk did she begin talking about Elsie.
John settled into the chair opposite, and even though he took a relaxed stance, inwardly, he was in turmoil, for by now, his mind had thought the worst: that Elsie had died from the illness.
“So, what is it you wanted to talk about?” she asked pleasantly enough, as if not aware of his feelings for the kitchen maid. She did not look at him, but directed her gaze outward, toward the courtyard. The weather made it a sunny safe warm place, far from the dark magical cavern it had once harboured.
“Is..she well?” he hesitantly began.
“Oh, yes,” she said, clearing her throat, but her “yes” was only to recollect her thoughts. “Elsie left soon after you did. She recovered from her fever, but it returned a few days later. In a delirium, she wandered away from the Monastery, and we have not seen her since. We sent search parties everywhere, but to no avail. We lost her.”
“What!” he exclaimed unbelievingly, rising from his chair to loom over the old woman. His anger dissipated at the sight of tears of bewilderment in the old woman’s eyes, and he realized that this was the reason for the change in her: why she appeared so much older, so much more distracted. She was in shock and mourning.
“We lost her,” she repeated, trying to keep the tears from falling away. She looked directly at him, her expression so bleak that he became alarmed. “She’s gone John. She’s disappeared as surely as if she’d fallen off the edge of the Earth. The doctor came the day you left, and he did what he could, but he was as puzzled as we were, for she had such power to heal, and she had healed so many of his patients.”
“He knew her well, and looked after her before her child would be born….This is much worse than then. She wandered away then as well, and returned with a dead baby in her arms, it was heartbreaking. She was able to go back to work right away. All the signs of ever having given birth were gone. The doctor had examined her then as well. That she denied the entire thing…it was clearly her way of dealing with something traumatic. You know, I even took her to the baby’s grave once, and she just stared at it for a long long time, then you know what she said? She asked who’s grave it was, even though I had just told her whose. I think it was then that I realized that she was demented with grief. She cried and said she felt sorry for its mother.”
“But this is different. She was ill. She seemed to get better for a bit, but then the fever returned, and well, I couldn’t protect her, could I? I fear the worst, John. I think some evil force has claimed her and used her, bent her to its will; I’m nearly out of my mind with worry. This is the first day I’ve actually been able to speak of it. In my heart, I know I’ve broken the trust of her parents.” The tears finally overflowed onto the wrinkled cheeks.
“It’s not your fault,” he quietly asserted. “You tried to tell me,” he seemed about to say more, but only added: “I’m sorry.”
“I thought at first that she had gone…of her own free will, you know, ran away from here. I thought she ran after you,” the old woman admitted, “But the monk watching over her said that she had been in no condition to travel, and she had not taken anything with her, no food, no extra bedding. We searched the monastery from top to bottom, and sent word to the village, but no one had seen her. And now, here you are, and you are asking how she was from a month back, so I know that neither have you had contact with her. I know that I should trust in my Lord all the more, and He sent this trial to me to test me. I feel as if I’ve failed both my Lord and my friends.” She paused, whispering, “And most of all, Elizabeth.”
He didn’t know what to say. Elsie was long gone, and his determination seemed to die with her absence. He had no delusions about her status. He knew that the longer she was missing, the less likelihood there was of finding her. More than three weeks had past since she had wandered off. Something inside of him turned into a hard dry lump. He thought of his sword, which still hung and probably would hang for a long time, on the bedpost upstairs, and he considered picking it up again.
Despondent, he sought to change the subject. “What of my father? I saw his sign on the Guest Book, but I was told he left yesterday.”
The old woman nodded, sniffling a bit. “He was here. The next day, he was called back to the northern border. He so wanted to meet you. I think he even wanted to leave you an escort, but he decided that he needed all able-bodied men. He did not disclose anything, he only left this for you.” She opened a drawer in her desk and pulled out a parchment, rolled and sealed with wax, his father’s insignia stamped thereon.
Hesitantly, he took the proffered document and made his leave. He wanted to read it in the privacy of his room, but his feet took him through the nearby scullery and into the late afternoon sunshine in the garden where he had first met her.
He gazed around the little patch of herbs and vegetables, a little surprised. He found the sun-warmed bench beneath an apple tree, and slowly took his repose upon it, heaving a great sigh. After a moment, trying to orient the place as the one in which he had first desired her, in the starlight, before the storm had hit. He slowly began unrolling the letter his father had written.
Well, actually, he probably had dictated it to his trusted…no. He looked at the scrawl and recognized his father’s distinctive handwriting.
“My Dearest Son, (it began)
It was my intention to meet you here at the Monastery, having heard the terrible news concerning the treachery of the Grektarian Mage. Achthillia also, sends his concern for his son and nephew, reinforcing our party to twice its number, and thus we intended to relieve your burden and lend our assistance.
As I write this, however, grave concerns on the Northern border have come to my attention, for the barbarians have razed several villages there, and having procured evidence that both you and the Prince are well, we have gone with all speed to assist the people of the borderlands. (Your messenger from Grektar was well met, a worthy fellow)
I had a chance to speak with the Abbess concerning the upcoming nuptials of the Northern Barbarians with the Veldt, and I took her advice into consideration, although it would seem to me that this is a decision of your own making and not mine, for a thane ought have his own say in these matters, for my own was never a political obligation, nor would I wish this dry duty upon any son or daughter of mine.
Should Achthillia insist, I would advise that he foist the barbarian princess upon Wilhelm instead, for he is more apt to be happy in any duty. (When he comes of age, of course.) The Northern Barbarians might be the Veldt’s problem at the moment, but the King well knows it is more his than mine.
I noticed that you put down your duty already, for I saw it hanging from the bedpost, and I am eager to hear from you the circumstances upon which that duty was so readily put aside. Having seen this with my own eyes, I know that something of import has occurred, or you never would have considered it.
Long have I known that this Monastery has been the center of the old conflict, for the Main Citadel of the Mages, although now gone, was not one week’s ride from it, and a great deal of commerce at one time used to be made between the two places. It is no secret that the old Abbess harbored fugitives here, even though they were eventually ousted and exterminated, I don’t believe that all the Mages were handed over.
In the old days, before the war, it was moot to take a Mage for a wife, since clairvoyance being one of their assets was a valuable talent in times of negotiation. Although it is now forbidden by the present bishop of Achthillia, I know of several Lords who have continued with this practice, and I would not frown upon it if this is your intention as well.”
John let the letter crumple a little in his hand, while he gazed into the distance, bringing his knuckle up to smooth against his lip. How much did the Abbess tell the old man? How much did he guess? How much did he know of the Monastery’s history?
He returned to reading the rest of the missive, although there was nothing more important written but some traditional formalities regarding some law or other that was passing across his desk. Since John had turned fifteen, the duke had involved him in some of the decision-making, allowing him jurisdiction over certain levels of government.
Slowly, he rolled up the page and tucked it away.
He sat under the tree for a while, until the wonderful aroma of dinner assailed his nostrils and drew him away from the sanctuary. Grim resolve made him eager to leave the Monastery at their earliest convenience. Whatever was going on at the border, he wanted a part of it, and his father had not specified any instructions.
But that night, a strange dream awoke him, and although the image of a dark tower bathed in moonlight, with creatures of myth flying around its turrets in ominous portent were fading quickly, the anxiety that settled into his being distracted him from his goal, and in the morning, instead of heading out to the Northern Border, his eyes could see a faded, disused path leading west, and he turned his horse’s head toward it, unmindful of whether any of the entourage would follow.
She stepped into the water, finding it chillier than she had thought, yet she only braced herself, her body breaking out in goose bumps, her nipples standing up pertly, so she covered them with the opposite hand, and waded forward, reveling in the clarity of the stream, and the lazy tug of the current against her legs.
Here, was a water nymph, he thought, pulling up with a start, glimpsing between the verdant growth that surrounded the pool, a flash of glowing flesh that stood out in the dim light like a glimmering beacon. He froze a moment, not realizing at first what he was seeing. Would a lone woman so boldly expose herself? The season was warmer than it had been a week ago, yet, the waters were still capable of treachery, for the mountains were still melting from last month’s snowfall.
He knew he shouldn’t be watching with such hunger, but her naked form was compelling and his guard was down. His eyes were drawn to her slender waist, from which her hips flared, and because she had her arms before her, from behind, the effect was mesmerizing.
He dismounted quietly and crept forward, hardly daring to breathe, gently pushing branches aside so that his view was unimpeded.
He watched her sink slowly into the water, which must still be chilly in spite of the day’s warmth. He heard her breathe out, and make that sound that people make when they immerse themselves in the cold water, a kind of “T” sound that she repeated a few times as she knelt down and began sluicing water along her skin.
She immersed herself entirely for a moment, then popped up, the surface of the water bubbling upward like an encompassing membrane, trying to keep her within its tension.
She heard a splash behind her, and whirled, the ends of her hair throwing glistening trails of water around her like a veil. She had not covered her breasts immediately, for she was shocked that anyone could sneak up on her like that, so all that her body was wide open to his lascivious perusal.
He managed to take several steps before she actually tried escaping, but inevitably, her voice echoing in desperate sibilance off the bank opposite, she felt his gauntleted hands grapple her waist, and she put her hands to their cruel unrelenting grip in a futile effort to escape.
With a force that knocked the breath from her lungs, she found herself lifted bodily from the water and thrown like a doll over his shoulders. She let out a high-pitched shriek and began beating with all her might on his armoured shoulder. The metal of them bit into her tender flesh, the rivets on the mail scraped into her abdomen and thighs as she struggled wildly.
He quickly and effectively trapped her legs by placing one arm around both her knees, and as he walked toward the bank, his other gauntlet came down upon her rump in a punishing blow that knocked the breath, and therefore her scream away.
He swung her around and threw her bodily onto the ground, where she lay stunned by the writhing pain. She saw stars all around, and the landscape flickered, and she had a sinking sensation: “Not again! Not again!” she tried to breathe, but the words could not make it to her lips.
She felt his gloved hands on her laxly parting knees before the entire scene seemed swallowed by a merciful darkness: one that seemed so familiar.
