The Eaorl (The Casere Book 2) (24 page)

‘I hate torture…’

‘Not torture – Ana had Badb enter his mind.’

Conn smiled. ‘That’s my girl… at least the Gyden have some use.’

His mind had been open to Badb, and she was pleased with his actions. He informed them that he needed clearer instructions in the future and her confusion was clear. When he thanked her for helping Ana, there was more confusion. He was really starting to hate the fact that the Gyden didn’t seem to know what was going on – that just confused him.

The road through the town was particularly crowded and it took some time to arrive inside the bailiff. Inside, Driscol stood at the steps, supported by his bedda and Aerlene; his last living child. Officials went to the cart and collected the body of the Aebeling, while Alduni’s mother hugged her boy as soon as he dismounted from his horse. The rest of Bran’s bedda – some now visibly pregnant, wailed as they carried his body into the donjon.

Conn greeted Driscol with a bow, and then kissed and hugged Aerlene.

‘I’m sorry to find you unwell, Healdend, and of course to be bearing such tragic news.’

‘Taransay, it could have been much worse – much, much, worse. It is very good to see you.’

Conn followed the visibly weaker Driscol inside the donjon and sat beside him in the hall. Driscol smiled feebly. ‘It is I that should be bowing to you Eaorl, it is you that has saved my family. I am sad, but our house still has a future. It could have been that this day would have been tragic for my people.’ He shook his head. “But why – what does Rakia hope to achieve by killing all of my family?’

‘By killing all three of you – and putting the blame of Gatina, maybe they hoped that you would start a war with Gatina or they would create enough civil unrest about who would be next Healdend – who would that be?’

Driscol paused to consider. ‘Your daughters are my closest but they are females – Aghy has a strong claim – but he has no son yet – so he would have to relinquish the Eaorldom; Menia, Susa, Farah – they could all lay claim. And if Bran’s bedda had a son – his claim would be the strongest – but there are sixteen years before he could be Healdend – and who would be Regent. The Rakians are right – if they had been successful, it would have been chaos. I would hope that it wouldn’t extend to a war.’

Conn agreed. ‘Greed is a powerful motive. Anyway, I think that we have to assume that these plans were put into action around the same time that I went to Gatina – and because they took a long time to get everyone in place, it was impossible to prevent it going ahead. I doubt that they knew that the situation with Gatina is much better positioned now. When did the musicians arrive?’

‘Winter before last perhaps. With the end of the war more Gatinan merchants were coming here to trade; others came to ply their services. I think Bran found them in the town somewhere and invited them to perform here in the donjon. After a while they became fixtures – these days we have a lot of festivities as there is much to celebrate – including the pregnancy of two of Bran’s bedda.’

That realization brought tears to his eyes, and he wiped them off with his sleeve. He ordered more wine and settled back into his chair.

‘Where would we be without you, Taransay? We haven’t seen you in four years, you turn up unexpectedly, poor Finghin almost died trying to pass on your messages; you then rescue my grandson from certain death from Rakia bandits, and save me from assassination. Anything I missed?’

‘Have I told you about my prisoners?’

‘What prisoners? I thought they all died…’

‘Not quite.’ Conn explained and sent for them both.

Fainche was the first to arrive, but then she was not in chains. She apologized profusely.

‘I cannot imagine that my cousin Fallon authorized such a despicable act. I can only imagine that it was authorized by … others. I am truly sorry for your loss.’

Driscol was not convinced. ‘We will probably never know – and then I gather that you have not been in Rakia for some time, have you?’ Fainche blushed, and Driscol continued. ‘I gather you have been a guest of Halla, Aebeling of Cyme.’

Driscoll stopped abruptly, and looked back at Conn. ‘Which reminds me, Taransay, since when do people ask Gyden to do things for them – I gather you asked Lilith to restore Halla’s bands – and she did.’

‘I thought it was a reasonable request…’

‘Preposterous.’

Fainche took heart at his response. ‘So, Healdend, I presume that you also don’t believe it happened.’

Driscol disappointed her. ‘No, Fainche, I believe that it happened – I just think it is a preposterous suggestion that it is a reasonable thing to ask a Gyden. Taransay has never lied to me. I understand that he thinks you have lied to him, however, and that is disappointing.’

Before she had a chance to answer, the Ancuman was brought in chains. He was not happy. They sat him on a chair.

Driscol looked with interest. ‘So this is an Ancuman? Where is he from exactly?

‘Kishdah – as I understand it, he is either from Axum, Saba, Himyar, Nobatia, Alwa or Makurai.’

The prisoner continued to ignore them, but he was listening.

‘What do we know about him? Is he a mercenary?’

‘He hasn’t said much, so probably – there were six Ancuman in the party that attacked Bran – one died in the first attack while five stayed behind as backup. He is the only one alive. So it would appear that one of the dead are the mastermind while the others were common wiga. Fainche denied knowing who this one is so he isn’t from Axum – that is where all the important people are from – so I suggest that he is probably from Saba or something.’

Driscol looked inquisitively at Conn. ‘He doesn’t speak?’

‘Not important enough to speak I think.’

It was too much for the Ancuman. ‘You are a fool, Feorrancund. I am no swine from Saba – I am Alfvir, Aebeling in Axum. You will regret taking me a prisoner.’

Conn agreed. ‘I’m regretting it already. You talk too much.’

Alfvir scowled at him.

Driscol was blunt. ‘So Aebeling, would you care to tell me what you were trying to achieve and whose orders they were?

Alfvir stopped talking.

Conn commiserated. ‘I doubt we will get much from him.’ Conn readdressed Driscol. ‘You know they sent a squad of thirty wiga to stop me from doing something what I was trying to do….

‘I gather they failed…’

‘They did.’

Driscol sighed. ‘I know I’m going to regret asking, but what were you trying to do?’

‘I was trying to visit a history site in Mylae…’

‘You went to Mylae. Why did you go to Mylae – it’s in Rakia…’

‘I went to Mylae to reclaim Tabiti’s heart-stone and…’

Alfvir interrupted. ‘That is not possible…’

Driscol held up his hand as Conn was about to continue. ‘Taransay – I fear that will be a long story, so enough for today – I’m already confused.’ He indicated to the officials entering the donjon. ‘I feel it is time that we farewell my son.’ He ordered that Alfvir be taken back to the dungeon and he was not to be harmed, and he then led the entourage out to the bailey where everyone waited.

A large pyre had been constructed and the body of Bran lay across the top, draped in a flag of his house.

Driscol addressed those gathered. ‘Like many in my family for so long, another has been taken before his time. This time not because of the misdeeds of our ancestors, but because of the treachery of people we call kin. It will be avenged. As is the duty of all sons, we call upon Alduni to light the pyre and start his father on his journey to the afterlife. May Badb guide his way to eternal peace. Farewell son; re-join the wind.’

With that Alduni took the burning torch and gently laid it under the pyre. Immediately the flames took hold and within moments, the pyre was alight. It didn’t take long before the wood was all burnt and all that remained of Bran was his memory and his ashes. As Conn stood there, he felt a little hand touch his and he looked down. It was Ana – it had been four years since he had seen her, and she had changed a lot – she was twice as big for starters. He picked her up and they hugged.

‘Hello Papa!’

‘Hello Ana. Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you.’

‘I had to go with Doneele; she wanted me to meet someone.’

‘And it was important? I missed you.’

She giggled. ‘Very important, Papa.’

Driscol insisted that everyone come back inside, saying that Bran would want them to celebrate his life and more importantly the survival of his son. Soon the hall was full, but it was nonetheless a sombre affair. As well as Ana and Aerlene, Conn was joined by Njil, who had finally made it to Moesiak, and the Eaorl of Batra, Aghy, who decided that he needed to know the end of the story, and had joined Njil on his voyage. Fainche sat quietly at the end of the table, alone, until Ana went and started to chat with her.

Conn recounted the chain of events and thanked Aghy thanked him for the sacrifice of his men. They would be rewarded.

‘If we don’t die for our Aebeling without reservation – what is the point of being a wiga? Their families will be proud.’

After the celebration, Conn retired to the Inn for a hot bath and some strenuous relaxation exercises initiated by Aerlene; who he hadn’t seen in a while. Despite his urging, she had yet to “discard” Conn as a bedda and had not taken another, so she was able to help him “relax” late into the night.

~x211~

At breakfast, she had another surprise for him.

Four Valkeri walked in to the Inn. They were escorting two little girls.

‘There are some people who have been waiting to meet you.’ They had stopped, shy. She called them over and they rushed to crowd around their mother. They had been born soon after he had left for Kania – almost exactly four years ago. They had never seen him, but had the blue eyes that identified all of Conn’s children. Given that blue was a recessive gene – not that the Meshechians knew that – Conn was always amazed that his children had the dark blue eyes. He greeted them warmly but they stayed with their mother.

Fainche spoke aloud. ‘Let me get this correct. The sister of the Healdend of Moetia, is also the Eaorl of Susa, is a bedda to the Eaorl of Eriak.’

‘That is correct.’ Aerlene answered for them.

‘And these two and Ana plus the children in Cyme are his children?’

‘Yes.’

‘And do all his children have blue eyes?’

‘The ones I know do – but there are others.’ Aerlene looked at Conn. ‘How many children
do
you have now?’

‘Now – at this minute? That would be over twenty nine.’ Conn was incorrect but he didn’t know that. He also didn’t count Jowan as he didn’t want to raise that question until it was unavoidable. He smiled mischievously. ‘Possibly even two more on the way?’

Aerlene looked shocked. ‘If I’m pregnant again, I’ll…’

‘If you come back tonight, we can make sure…’

Fainche was still stuck on the answer. ‘Twenty nine! You have TWENTY NINE children?’

Conn pretended to be surprised. ‘What? Is that a lot? Minh Mang had over one hundred and forty… some others have had more..,’

They looked at him in confusion. ‘Who is Minh Mang?’

Instead of a boring meeting with her brother, Aerlene decided to take Fainche and the girls shopping. Conn continued on to the donjon by himself, walking through the streets of a town that looked nothing like the dirty and run down settlement of so few years previous. The main and public areas were all paved and drained, and a rebuilding of the entire town was underway – the masses of cobbled together timbers houses were steadily being replaced with rows of stone and tile buildings with streets wide enough for carriages to pass. When he finally arrived in the great hall of the donjon, Driscol was already there. His health was improving daily. It was evident that the poison was only designed to make him ill and give the fake medic access to him – after his miraculous diagnosis and cure. The Healdend was very careful about being poisoned so the only way they could have poisoned him was if they were also drinking the poison – from shared wine bottles or such. The Rakians would have been taking the cure daily.

Driscol finally caught up on the conversation of the previous day.

‘So did you find the heart-stone in Mylae?’

‘I did – but it was well hidden.’ Conn explained all about the guard stones, protecting the Cirice in Gatinak and the remains of the castle in Mylae. He then told him the story of Comhghall, the abandoning of the Cirice in Gatinak, and then the destruction of the other Cirice after the resignation of the last Casere.

Driscol sat bemused. ‘But how did it get to Mylae?’ Surely no normal person can handle a haligdom such as that.’

‘You are right. However, the Twacuman can – but they have no desire to do so – except the Twacuman who brought Inanna’s heart-stone here, which I still don’t understand. If not them, then who? I feel that it has to be the same person who moved Tabiti from Gatina to Mylae – and also Inanna from Silekia to Piada. Those events have to be connected – I just don’t know how.’

‘A Folgere perhaps?’

‘No Folgere that I know of could touch another heart-stone. And they would never betray their heart. No, it is someone else – and someone who knew about the other haligdoms.’

‘And it is definitely the Ancuman who are behind all of this – not Fallon as they would want us to believe?’

Conn nodded. ‘I don’t think Fallon is behind it. He has too much to lose. Things have moved way beyond his control now. Firstly, keep in mind that despite the fact that although we found Ratakian armour and uniforms, none of the wiga were trained wiga from the Healdend’s forces. They were all mercenaries – they would have been criminals and outlaws hired for the job. So this is not an ‘official’ Ratakian assassination attempt – it is the Ancuman – they are behind everything – have been for hundreds of years.’

‘It still doesn’t make sense.’ Driscol asked, ‘Surely they must know that the Moetian forces would be strong enough to defeat Gatina and Rakia?’

‘That is why Fallon and Alric aren’t behind it. The Ancuman don’t care if the Rakians are defeated – I’m sure they want them to stare defeat in the face, because it would allow them to bring more Ancuman forces into Meshech – by invitation. The Ancuman are much better wiga than all other Meshechians – a war between them and my forces would be bloody.’