Heartwood (16 page)

“And now for the Veriditas,” said Silva. She shook back her long black hair, and her gold eyes glowed. “I only wish we had been able to find the Virimage before you set out on your journey. But alas, I shall have to share with you the little I know and hope that will help you to activate the Nodes.

“As we all know, Veriditas is a combination of two words – Viridis, which is green, and Veritas, which is truth. Therefore, Veriditas is the process of looking within us and seeing the truth – accepting who we are, and in doing that letting the power of Animus sweep through us to the land. Like this.”

She cupped her hands around a small daisy and closed her eyes. Those seated around her strained over others' heads to look. For a moment nothing happened. Then, slowly, the daisy began to grow, its petals unfurling and stretching out as if the sun had come out, its stem lengthening and its leaves greening and glossing under her hands.

Those who had not yet seen Silva do her magic gasped. She opened her eyes and smiled ruefully. “I wish it could be more. And hopefully the Virimage will help us all to increase this flow of energy. But anyway, I will show you what I can. Please, find a flower near you and place your hands over it.”

Chonrad looked around, wondering if he was expected to partake in the experiment, saw everyone looking for a flower and shrugged and turned to the small group of daisies beside him. He separated one stem from the others and cupped it in his palms. Fulco stared at him. Chonrad gestured for Fulco to do the same. His bodyguard raised an eyebrow, but did as he was bid.

“Close your eyes,” Silva instructed. “Now, I want you to imagine yourself as a vessel, a cup, and the sunlight – if there were any – is the love of Animus streaming down and filling you up. You are being filled with a golden light that runs through your veins and into the flower between your hands. Imagine yourself as made of glass, clear and pure; acknowledge the fact that you have faults, and put them to one side; realise you have done things wrong in the past, and put them to one side. You are clean, wholesome and thoroughly deserving of Animus's love, it runs through you, cleansing, washing out all the imperfections, making you pure and whole once again…”

Chonrad tried to concentrate, but found himself distracted by the tap-tapping of the rain on the awning and the small sounds of people shuffling awkwardly on the grass. He tried to focus on Silva's voice, her low, mellow tone, and he imagined the sun coming out from the clouds and shining on him, pouring the yellow light like butter down on him and through his veins.
Animus loves me
, he said to himself. But did he really believe it?

He opened his eyes cautiously and looked at the flower in his hands. It didn't seem to have changed. Had the petals opened a little? Perhaps it was just his imagination.

Around him, everyone compared what they had produced to their neighbours. Gravis and Grimbeald both stared ruefully at their offerings, declaring no change, as did most of the others in the gathering. Nitesco's daisy appeared to have grown by a finger's height, which made him beam with pleasure. To Chonrad's amazement – and slight indignation – Fulco's also appeared to have bloomed a little, and he scowled at Fulco's superior smile. And then an exclamation made everyone turn and look at Gavius. Chonrad stared. The daisy within the twin's hands had grown to twice its size. The petals had unfurled and glowed white, and the yellow inside was like a small, golden sun. The thick, shiny leaves curled in his fingers.

“Wow,” Gavius said.

Gravis pulled a face. “You changed it while we had our eyes closed,” he complained. Everyone laughed, dispelling the tension a little. However, Chonrad saw the look that lingered on Gravis's face when he thought no one was looking. Jealousy? Resentment? Chonrad frowned. Maybe the twins' relationship was not as perfect as everyone imagined it to be.

“Very well done,” said Silva. “But the rest of you, please do not be despondent. I did not really expect any results today. All I wanted to show you was the technique. Please, practice this as much as possible on your way to the Nodes. It will help you when you get there.” She got to her feet. “Now that's the Quartus Campana. That is our weapons practice time, for those of you who wish to join us.”

 

IV

Later, the high meal of the day turned out to be a great party, as if everyone was aware this might be the last time they were all together. Nobody wanted to admit they were nervous or scared about the coming adventures, and wanted instead to forget for a night and enjoy the short time they had left with their friends.

The Hanaireans had brought a small troop of musicians with them to entertain them on the long journey, and so they set themselves up on a small platform to one side of the Quad and played through the night as everyone danced and sang or just sat and listened to the music.

The Quad had been covered with a succession of awnings to keep off the now-constant rain, and the earth floor underneath was spread with rushes gathered from the banks of the Flumen outside Heartwood, mixed with sprigs of rosemary and thyme so the sweet smell of the herbs kept drifting up as people walked or danced across them. Chairs and cushions were scattered to the sides, and tables set up along the southern edge of the Quad on which a feast had been prepared in honour of the adventures about to be undertaken.

“It is a fine spread,” said Chonrad to Valens, who stood to one side watching the dancers with a smile.

“We cannot really afford to use so much food, but I could not send everyone away on bread and water,” said Valens.

“It would help if Fulco was not eating half of it on his own,” Chonrad said wryly, seeing his bodyguard walk past with his usual huge plate of bread and meat.

Valens smiled, then sighed. “Now Wulfengar are refusing to give us the Charitas, our supplies will dwindle even more.”

“How long could you withstand a siege?”

Valens thought about it. “We have sacks of wheat, oats and barley in the grain store, which should last us a while, and barrels of salted meat and fish. We have our own vegetable gardens which are still supplying us with a good yield, although obviously it is down from last year, and this continual rain will not help their growth. But we have some put aside for an emergency. We have a few cows, which can supply us with milk and cheese, although not as much as we would like. Our well, at least, should give us water, and anyway with all this rain we should not be short of a drink.” He sighed. “We would probably be able to last for a couple of months without having to cut rations drastically. Let us hope it does not come to that.”

Chonrad nodded. He saw Valens looking across the Quad at someone and followed his gaze to see Dolosus sitting by himself, a cup of ale in his hand, watching the dancing morosely. Chonrad frowned, intrigued by the Imperator's connection with this Militis. “You are concerned for Dolosus?” he enquired, wondering if Valens would open up.

Valens looked at him. “I think he will perform more than adequately on your Quest.”

“That is not what I meant.” Chonrad smiled. “I think he means more to you than just another Heartwood knight. Am I right?”

For a moment Valens's face was carefully guarded, but suddenly, as if aware this was the night of nights and everything could end on the morrow, he sighed and nodded. “He is like the son I never had,” he admitted. “I was very like him in my youth.”

“You were?” Chonrad could not imagine Valens sulky or morose.

Valens smiled. “I suppose you are not aware, but I too came late to Heartwood. I was born in Wulfengar and grew up, like Dolosus, without a true house to call my home. My father was a visiting knight who took a fancy to the serving wench who was my mother, and I never knew him. When she died at the age of twenty-five, I was only nine years old. Nobody wanted me; I was another mouth to feed in a village where food was not in abundance. So I left and went to the nearest city and made a living here and there, helping in smithies mainly. I soon learned all about swords and armour and, like Dolosus, learned how to wield them. And eventually I attached myself to a raiding party. It was through them that I learned of Heartwood, so one day I walked up the gates and asked to join.”

“Thank goodness they said yes!”

“Oh, they did not, initially,” said Valens mischievously. “But I sat outside and refused to move. Eventually, the old Abbatis came out to see me himself and after speaking to me, agreed to give me a trial. And I have never looked back.”

Chonrad nodded. He looked over at Dolosus. “And are you grooming him to take your place one day?”

A frown marred Valens's features and for a moment he didn't answer. “I was getting there… and then he lost his arm. It should not make any difference to a leader, of course, but it has affected him so much; he feels less than a knight, and it has deepened the anger and mistrust that have simmered within him since childhood.” He shrugged. “But I will persevere. It is difficult, feeling nobody wants you. He should not have to feel that way.”

Chonrad walked to the edge of the awning, looking up at the sky. For a brief moment, the rain had eased, and stars sparkled like a scatter of diamonds on the black velvet cloak of the sky. “The future is so uncertain,” he murmured.

“The wheel of time turns continuously,” said Valens, joining him. “It is always so. It is only that we are more aware of it at this moment.”

Procella came up to them both, breathless, her cheeks flushed. Her eyes glittered, and she winked at Chonrad as she held out a hand. “You are so boring, standing there in the shadows and talking,” she exclaimed. “Come and dance.”

Chonrad blinked, surprised at her sudden gaiety. But he smiled and took her hand, and let himself be led forwards to the space where people were moving to the music in a beautiful dance like the movement of the stars above their heads.

 

V

The next morning, Chonrad awoke at first light to hear the rain had started again and was patting away merrily at the windows of the Barracks.

He walked over to one of the tables and helped himself to a large bowl of porridge. Turning, he glanced around at the people in the Quad, looking for a familiar face.

Beata was already there, dressed in full mail, looking fresh and determined as she checked her horse's fittings and filled the small baskets that hung on either side of her saddle with her belongings.

“Travelling light?” said Chonrad with a smile, walking up to her as he ate his porridge.

She turned to face him, her eyes as grey as the storm clouds above their heads, and nodded. “Just a little clothing, my weapons and a few odds and ends.”

“If I do not get the chance to say it later, good luck on your Quest,” said Chonrad sincerely. “I am sure you will find the Virimage and encourage him to come back.”

“Oh, he will be coming back all right,” said Beata vehemently, “if I have to drag him by the earlobes.”

Chonrad raised an eyebrow, sensing she wasn't jesting. “Can I get you something to eat?” he asked, watching her moving restlessly as she checked and rechecked the contents of the panniers.

She shot him a quick smile. “No, thank you. Too nervous to eat.”

As the hour passed and the Secundus Campana rang, the Quad gradually filled up. Chonrad busied himself with helping others to pack belongings into horses' baskets, kept the steeds quiet while the parties moved around getting organised, and generally did whatever he could to stop himself feeling useless. He helped to wrap bread in cloths, roll up blankets, load bags with apples, carry buckets of water from the well and fill up leather water bottles, double-check routes on maps and generally cheer everyone up as tension spread throughout the vicinity and nerves became taut.

At one point Fulco appeared, bleary-eyed and with his hair sticking up, scolding Chonrad with gesticulations for not waking him. Chonrad laughed, but Fulco grabbed his arm and turned him to face him.
You are not to leave my sight
, Fulco signed.
Understand?
Chonrad nodded, holding up his hands and sobering at the serious look on his bodyguard's face. Clearly the tension was even getting to the normally placid Laxonian.

By the Tertius Campana, Fionnghuala and Grimbeald and their parties were ready to leave. Chonrad, Valens and Procella accompanied them to the Porta.

“Good luck,” Valens said simply. He had already spoken in depth with them about their Quests, and there was little more advice he could give that would do them any good at this late hour.

The Quest Leaders, and the Militis who were accompanying them, made their way across the drawbridge. Fionnghuala and Grimbeald waited and then nodded at the three knights waiting under the Porta before turning their horses, casting one last look back at the towering gatehouse and the giant oak leaf carved into the stone above the portcullis. They crossed the drawbridge over the moat, the horses' hooves echoing on the wood. Immediately to their left was the beginning of Isenbard's Wall, the tall, towering stone barrier that lay between Wulfengar and Laxony. The gate through the Wall was opened temporarily and they passed through it, crossing over the bridge that spanned the Flumen – the wide river that tumbled to the north of the Wall, and then they were in Wulfengar, and soon they were swallowed up by the dark forest.

“I wonder if we shall see them again,” said Valens, his voice rough.

The others didn't answer, too caught up in their own thoughts to reply.

The activity inside the Quad intensified as the other three parties got ready for their journey. By the Quartus Campana, Beata, Gravis, Gavius and their parties were ready to leave.

This time, Chonrad, Valens and Procella walked to the Porta accompanied by most of the others who were staying behind. The Quest Leaders moved through the gatehouse and then paused on their horses, turning to look back at the place that had been more than just their home, Chonrad guessed. For some, it was their whole life, and leaving it now must be terrifying.