Heartwood (2 page)

She caught the barely-disguised resentment behind his tone and her eyebrows rose. “All Militis have to spend at least a year in the Exercitus,” she said in what he assumed was the tone she used on those who lay abed in the morning.

“Even so,” he replied, unperturbed, “in spite of the fact that Heartwood is like a small city, it still chooses to isolate itself from the rest of Anguis. And that must lead to a strange atmosphere inside its walls?” He made it a Question, although he was sure he knew the answer.

Even if she did agree with him, she didn't know him well enough to admit it. “Would it make it easier for you if I said yes?” she asked crisply. “So you can feel glad you never became a part of its community?”

“Ouch.”

Her face softened. “I am sorry. It was not my intention to insult such an important visitor as yourself.” Her lips twitched. “But you did ask for it.”

He laughed. “I suppose I did.” He studied her for a moment, watching as her hand came up to brush back a stray hair from her face. For the first time he saw the small oak leaf tattoo on her left outer wrist. Truth to tell, she fascinated him. He had known a few female knights in his time, but this one… Strong, brave, authoritative, yet strangely compassionate, with very womanly curves beneath all the armour…

“Are you married?” she asked, surprising him.

“I was. Minna died six years ago, in childbirth.”

A look passed fleetingly across her face. “I am sorry,” she said. “How many children do you have?”

“Two. A girl, six, and a boy, eight.” He thought about the look he had nearly missed. Was it to do with his wife dying, or the fact that it was in childbirth? “I never spend as much time with them as I would like,” he added wistfully. “Do you wish you had children?”

Her eyebrows rose. He had the feeling she had never been asked that before. “I… sometimes…” She was clearly flustered, and obviously didn't like that unfamiliar emotion. “Families are not permitted in Heartwood,” she stated flatly. “It is pointless even to think about the Question.”

He noted she had said “families” and not “relationships”. “Do you have to take an oath of celibacy?” he asked curiously. He wasn't sure if she would answer him. The religious rituals the Militis undertook were kept very private and nobody outside Heartwood knew very much about them.

She looked back at him. Her eyes were very dark, the colour of polished oak. “No. Heartwood Animism does not demand the impossible from a person.” She referred to her religion. “It is accepted that from time to time a knight will need to satisfy his or her bodily needs. We are taught it is better to succumb to your desire than to burn with it.”

“That is sensible.”

At his amused words, her eyes fixed on him, but she did not smile back. “Equally, however, relationships are discouraged. Passion for a man or woman detracts from the passion we must direct towards our work, and those who cannot contain their feelings are encouraged to leave.”

“I see.” He spoke gently, understanding the warning behind her words.

He caught Fulco's amused gesture,
Pity!
but chose to ignore it.

Procella nodded at the sky to the west, and he turned to see the faintly pink Light Moon, barely visible as the sun continued its ascent. She smiled at him, and the sheer enjoyment that flooded her face surprised him. “It is nearly time,” she said. “You have never seen the Veriditas?”

“Never.”

She turned and walked over to the stairwell. “Come on.” She winked at him. “You are in for a treat.”

 

III

Together, they began to descend the spiral staircase, Fulco trailing a short distance behind. The stone Porta consisted of two towers joined by a large corridor overlooking a portcullis and drawbridge. It dominated the surrounding landscape. Built to withstand a direct assault, it was really the main fortification in Heartwood, the Castellum itself – even though its walls were six feet thick – meant to be a place to pray than a place to defend. The Porta, however, was solid and substantial, an impenetrable block between high, thick walls that curved around until they met the mountains behind.

Chonrad watched Procella run her fingers lovingly along the stone walls as she descended the steps.

“Did you work in the Porta before you went into the Exercitus?” he asked.

“Yes. I was one of the Custodes and spent a lot of time here. I organised the Watch and looked after maintenance of the defences.”

“So what made you join the Exercitus?”

She looked over her shoulder at him. “You are very inquisitive.”

“I am interested.”

She sighed. “I spent some time training the young Militis at one of the camps in Laxony – they do not come to Heartwood until they reach the age of eighteen. Then I did my service in the Exercitus. All Militis do this; we spend a year away from Heartwood out on Isenbard's Wall, patrolling the borders. The atmosphere between Laxony and Wulfengar was not as good then as it is now, and we were called on constantly to deal with raids and put down rebellions.”

“I should think you were in your element there.”

She laughed. “I did enjoy it, I must admit. I rose through the ranks and got to know Valens, who was Dux at the time – I think you know him.”

Chonrad did indeed know the mighty Valens. A huge knight, incredibly brave and fearless in battle, Valens had made it his business to know the lords of all the lands in Laxony, and most especially those near to the Wall. Chonrad had met him on several occasions, and had been disappointed when he heard Valens was retiring to Heartwood after an injury. Though he had heard much about her, and admired her, Chonrad had yet to learn whether Procella was a worthy successor.

“Do you enjoy being Dux?” he asked.

“Someone has to do it.”

He laughed. “That is not an answer.”

“It is all you are going to get.” She seemed flustered by his Questions.

“I am irritating you.” Was it because she did not intimidate him, as he imagined she did most people?

“Not at all. It is just… It is a long time since I have discussed my feelings with anybody. My life is a busy one and does not leave much time for analysing and the discussion of one's emotions.”

“I can understand that.”

She shot him a glance over her shoulder. “And you unnerve me.”

“Why?”

She ran her gaze down him, her eyes alight with something he realised with surprise was interest. “You are an attractive knight. You must be used to making women flustered.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I am afraid I have little experience in that area.”

She stopped so suddenly he bumped into her, and she turned and looked up at him curiously. “Truly?”

“Well, I do not think of myself as ugly.” He knew he was tall and broad-shouldered, with strong features under his light brown beard. “But I am afraid I have not spent a lot of time entertaining. The sword has been my constant companion, not the rose.”

“You were married; presumably your wife fell in love with you?”

He thought about his wife. Memories of her stirred up feelings of duty and responsibility rather than affection. He had been sad when she died, but although he had worn a white tunic for the obligatory year, in his heart his mourning had passed long before that. “Minna was a difficult woman, and ours was a marriage of convenience. I am not sure love ever came into it at all.”

Procella said nothing, but her dark eyes studied him curiously. Perhaps she thought all marriages involved falling in love. The reality, in his experience, was very different.

They reached the bottom of the stairs and turned into the large room that served as offices for the Watch where they co-ordinated the changing of the guard and the rota for the day. “On your feet!” she barked at the Custos who lounged in his chair, playing idly with a couple of dice. “Have you made your rounds yet?”

“Er, no Dux, sorry…” His face reddened as his eyes flicked from her to Chonrad and back again.

“It is nearly time for the Secundus Campana, so you had best be off.”

He scurried down the stairs in front of them, his scabbard clanging on the stone.

She grinned at Chonrad, and he laughed. “You are very scary.”

“It is all an act. I am a pussycat really.”

“That is not what I have heard.” Stories of the new Dux had become almost legend, even in the short time she had been in the role. Most of the knights in the Exercitus were scared of her, and he could understand why. He had also heard she was a sight to be seen in battle: skilled, fearless and experienced, fiercely loyal, someone her soldiers would fight to the death for.

Once again, his interest in her stirred, but he clamped it down firmly.
Distract yourself, Chonrad.
He thought about what she had said to the Custos. “What is the Secundus Campana?” She had spoken in the language of Heartwood, and he did not understand completely what she had said to the guard.

She looked at him with surprise, continuing in Laxonian, “I thought you spoke Heartwood's language?”

“A little of course. But I did not… ah… pay as much attention to my studies as I probably should have.”

“You are referring to not being chosen at the Allectus?”

“Actually, no. I was just very bad at school.”

She laughed. “The Secundus Campana is the second bell. The Campana rings nine times while the sun is up, marking time for prayer, weapons exercise and meals.” She smiled. “I forget most people are unfamiliar with the ways here. I have known them for so long – they are all I can remember, really.” She began to descend the stairwell to the next floor.

Chonrad followed her, Fulco trailing behind like a shadow. “Where were you from originally?” he asked, wondering if it was anywhere near his home town.

She looked over her shoulder at him. There was an impish look in her eyes. “I do not know if I should tell you.”

“Why not?”

“It might… unnerve you.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I am from Wulfengar.”

He stopped dead on the steps and stared at her. She laughed, enjoying the effect her words had had on him, clearly not surprised to see his reaction. Her admission shocked him. In Wulfengar, women were not held in high regard, and it was unknown for them to enter the army, or indeed to sit on any council or hold any office in the land. They were forbidden to attend school or university. Wulfengar men regarded their women as brood mares, figures to satisfy their lust and produce their offspring, to cook their meals and look after them when they returned home at the end of the day.

Needless to say, Procella's position was rather unusual.

“By the oak leaf,” said Chonrad. “How did you manage that?”

“My mother's mother was from Laxony.” She carried on down the stairs. “My grandfather met her while on a raid across the Wall, and he carried her back with him as a spoil of victory.”

Chonrad said nothing. It was an increasing problem, one that angered him greatly.

“I do not think they were that unhappy. She grew to love him, in her way. But she brought up her daughter – my mother, to be strong and independent, and although my father did his best to control her, my mother managed to do the same for me. She was determined I escape the hold of Wulfengar, as she had not, and so, unknown to my father, she took me to Heartwood herself for the Allectus, and left me there when I was chosen.”

“That must have been hard.”

“It was a long time ago,” was all she said.

Reaching the bottom of the steps, they entered the large Watchroom. Usually a large oak door closed it off from the corridor to the north tower. Today, because all shifts of the Custodes were on Watch, they had pushed the doors open. The room now stretched from one tower of the Porta to the other, spanning the length of the wide drawbridge and portcullis below. The place was filled with knights, some arming themselves from the stock of weapons to one side of the room, others checking on the rota sheet where they were supposed to be at specific times of the day. They parted respectfully to let Procella, Chonrad and Fulco through as they crossed to the other tower and descended the final staircase to the outside world.

“Busy today,” Chonrad commented, watching as a group of Hanaire visitors, distinguishable by their long fair hair, stopped at the gates to talk to the Custodes who ticked names off their list of invited guests.

“The busiest I have seen it for a long time,” Procella agreed. They slipped past the Hanaireans and walked into the Baillium, the large area inside Heartwood's walls. The wide path led straight through the scatter of buildings and temporary tents to the Castellum.

“Everyone has come to see the show,” Chonrad murmured. He glanced aside at a large group of Wulfengar knights who sat in front of a tent, swilling ale. Instinctively, his hand fell to the pommel of his sword.

Procella nudged him. “Remember we are here today to talk peace.”

“Sorry.” He let his hand drop. “But it has been a long time since I stood in the same country as a Wulfengar, let alone the same room.”

He looked across at the huge circular Curia, where the Congressus was due to take place after the Veriditas ceremony. It had been a noble effort, he thought, by Heartwood, to try to get as many leaders of the Seven Lands of Laxony, the five lands of Wulfengar, and the lords of Hanaire together to discuss the possibility of a pact. Relations had not been good for some years between the eastern Twelve Lands especially, and things only seemed to be escalating. Heartwood's Exercitus was being called on more and more to try to keep things quiet on Isenbard's Wall, and he knew how thin their resources were being stretched. This was a last ditch attempt on Heartwood's part to try to make peace between the nations.

And he knew Procella was as certain as himself it would fail.