Authors: Antoine Rouaud
‘Shh!’ ordered a voice. ‘Laerte, it’s me.’
And beneath the blue cloak, he recognised Esyld. Why had she changed? Before he could ask she pulled a second cloak, this one black, out of a bag and held it out to him.
‘Put this on, quickly. We need to get away from here. They’ve sent patrols out looking for you.’
‘Who did?’ he asked in a trembling voice. ‘Esyld, what’s happening?’
He put the garment on over his shirt. Esyld placed her hands on his shoulders and looked deeply into his eyes.
‘The Empire. Your father has been arrested. So has your entire family.’ She said it without betraying any hint of emotion.
‘But . . . why?’
‘My father is with Captain Meurnau. They’re in the northern part of town. Come on, we need to hurry. Let’s go!’
The features of her face were so hard and tense that he barely recognised her. She took him by the hand and led him back into the forest. Meurnau, the captain of the guard . . .
‘A girl leaving town attracts less attention than a boy,’ she said, sounding terribly nervous. ‘Someone told them you’d gone into the marshes so they’re combing the area all around the Watch, looking everywhere for you . . .’
They reached the edge of the forest again where they found a small cart with a covered rear section waiting for them.
‘But there’s one place they won’t imagine you would go. Hide in there, we might run into some soldiers . . .’
The smile she gave him was so tense that he was not at all reassured. She helped him wriggle under the canvas. The sky was starting to become overcast and a rain shower was threatening in the distance. Between two soft bags stinking of manure, Laerte curled up like a newborn babe. His blood was pounding at his temples
and his hands shook. He closed them into fists. His father had been arrested by the Empire without Laerte even knowing why. And if they were looking for him, they must want to subject him to the same fate. What crime had the House of Uster committed? It was not solely Oratio’s writings that justified such an act. So why?
He heard the snap of the reins followed by the sound of hooves striking the ground. The cart began to move off.
‘Whatever you do, don’t move,’ Esyld ordered.
During the few minutes that the trip took to the town gates, he only heard the sound of his own breathing, coming in heavy gasps. A mantle of anxiety enveloped him, while his skin was damp and his throat dry. When he detected the muffled calls of the soldiers hailing Esyld he held his breath. There was a tense exchange. The soldiers’ voices were clipped, their tone conveying both authority and contempt. A single word taken the wrong way and it would be over for them both. Under the canvas he gathered his knees in tightly and closed his eyes. If a soldier attacked Esyld, would he have time to crawl out and come to her rescue? Would he even try? Would he shield her with his own body, allow a blade to pierce him? He held back a moan and tears trickled down his face. There were several small taps above him. A soldier must be running his hand over the cloth. The sound became more pronounced and the tapping increased . . . No, it wasn’t a soldier at all, but raindrops. The raincloud had reached Aëd’s Watch.
Finally, the cart moved forward again. When it halted and someone lifted the canvas cover, Laerte’s eyes were reddened from crying. Although the first face he saw in the dim light of a damp barn was that of bearded man and not Esyld’s, he felt no less ashamed. Out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed the girl, soaked by the rain, watching him with a sad expression. He immediately wiped his eyes with the back of his eyes, gritting his teeth in anger. She must not see him like this. Not cowardly, lost, or unable to contain his feelings.
‘Sir, you are safe. Come,’ said the man, urging him forward with a hand on his shoulder. ‘I thought they’d caught you in the woods. Time is running short.’
It was Esyld’s father and, evidently, they were in the barn adjoining his workshop. He still wore his dusty apron over a black shirt, which strained to contain his broad shoulders. Behind a closed door,
wood crackled in the forge’s hearth, its orange light pulsing between the panel boards.
‘Esyld, saddle the horses, we need to leave within the hour!’ he informed her, as he led the boy towards a ladder giving access to a passageway.
They climbed without waiting for her, following the passageway to a small door upon which Master Orbey gave three rapid knocks followed by two slow. Over the railing Laerte glanced down at Esyld. She was busy preparing the horses, looking scared. In her haste she dropped the saddle she was carrying and swore at herself with a sob in her voice. She had seemed so resolute when she had come back to find him in the woods. How he would have preferred to stay with her and take her in his arms. At least he was sure of managing that.
The door creaked as it opened. Behind it two guards with hands on the pommels of their swords eyed the two new arrivals suspiciously. Recognising Orbey, they drew apart to let them enter. The room was cramped, with a few crates full of blacksmith’s tools and a wide anvil retired from service placed in one corner. A man with a thin face marked with scars was seated at a table close to the single window overlooking one of Aëd’s Watch’s streets. Master Orbey’s forge had been built in the highest part of the town. From here they had a view all the way to the big square at the foot of the church. Upon the table rested a county guard captain’s helmet, recognisable from the dragon’s head with the open maw above the nose guard. The man placed an iron gauntleted hand upon it.
‘Captain Meurnau?’ Laerte exclaimed in surprise, his throat still dry.
If he was here hiding in Master Orbey’s workshop it meant the situation was even worse than he had imagined. Meurnau stood up and with a brisk nod of his head indicated a small stool by the crates.
‘Sit down,’ he told the boy in a firm tone.
Then, turning his back on Laerte, he invited Orbey to join him by the window.
‘There are a great many of Azdeki’s soldiers searching the area surrounding the town,’ the blacksmith informed him in a murmur.
Passing a hand through his ash-blond hair, Meurnau inhaled deeply as he listened to the other man. It was as if they both trying to exclude Laerte from their conversation. He would surely not have
heard anything if he had sat down as the captain had instructed.
‘They will come back when they find nothing and then we will be unable to leave by the north. We have to leave Aëd’s Watch now, Orbey.’
‘I know,’ the blacksmith nodded. ‘My daughter is already saddling the horses. But after that?’
‘After that, we’ll decide. The southwestern baronies have always respected the count and some there were open about sharing his vision of the world. We need to find a safe haven where we can organise the uprising.’
‘The uprising? Meurnau, surely you’re not contemplating that?!’ Orbey exclaimed indignantly.
‘Captain . . .’ said Laerte.
But the two men by the window were not listening to him. Orbey was seeking to draw the captain’s elusive gaze. In the distance, in the square in front of a church, Laerte watched a gallows being erected.
‘It’s not what the count wants!’
‘It’s exactly what he wants, blacksmith,’ retorted Meurnau. ‘The Empire is dying, it’s time for a change of governance.’
‘Not by force!’
‘Captain!’ Laerte repeated, stepping forward a pace.
He balled his fists and felt the blood boiling in his veins. And in his head, one question was supplanting all the others . . . but no one was paying him any attention.
‘Since the Empire is depriving the Saltmarsh of its master without the consent of its people, then the Saltmarsh will declare its independence!’ roared Meurnau. ‘We’ve bent the knee long enough to the whims of a tyrant. To call Uster an outlaw and treat him with such contempt after all he has done for those barnyard roosters, it’s disgraceful. Disgraceful!’
‘
Captain Meurnau!
’ Laerte yelled.
The two men spun round, seeing the boy’s determined expression with astonishment. Meurnau had trained him in duelling several times, without hiding his doubts as to the boy’s aptitude as a swords-man. Of Uster’s three children, Laerte knew he was the quietest, the least forthcoming, the most timid on all occasions. For him to raise his voice like this, without arrogance, but with an authority similar to that of the count, surprised even himself. But he was so filled with anger that he could not remain silent.
‘Where is my father?’ Laerte demanded. ‘My mother?’
‘Laerte, we are trying to deal with the situation as best we can,’ explained Meurnau. ‘I must request that you remain in your—’
‘Tell me what is happening here!’ the boy exploded, locking eyes with the captain. ‘Where is my family being held? Why has nothing been done to prevent this? Tell me!’
The captain blinked. It was the first time that Laerte had given him an order, from all of his twelve years of age. But in view of the respect Meurnau owed him, he was ready to defy the man in order to obtain answers. The blacksmith intervened instead, approaching the boy.
‘Sir, there is a great deal of commotion within the town,’ he started by saying. ‘Captain Azdeki has come to arrest your father the count and your brother, accusing them of high treason against the Empire. Your mother and your sister have also been taken, we’re unable to—’
‘Your father is no traitor, Laerte,’ the captain muttered angrily. ‘This is all political manoeuvring by the Azdeki family and others,’ he added in disgust.
‘But why are they inventing such lies?’ asked Laerte, in a dazed tone. ‘Why would they do that?’
‘I fear the Order of Fangol wants to reassert its status,’ replied Meurnau. ‘And the Emperor, in his weakness, has not opposed this.’
‘Your family . . . possesses many things that make men jealous, sir,’ Orbey added with an uncomfortable air.
Although Laerte had heard him, it was not what he wished to know, not the most important thing. Fear bore a hole in his stomach.
‘Where is he now? Where is my father?’
His voice was trembling now. He imagined the worst.
‘Master Orbey! Where is my father?’
The blacksmith took one step to the side, revealing the window behind him, and stood with his head bowed.
‘They have already judged him, sir . . .’
In the distance, behind the wooden roofs of the houses below, the gallows could be seen. Someone was about to be hung. Laerte looked back and forth between the window and the men beside him. He didn’t understand. He did not want to understand. In the end the why, how, when mattered little to him. The only thing he took angry note of was the guard captain’s failure to take action. Obeying the inner rage that invaded him, he lost all self-restraint.
‘And you’re going to let him die?’
‘Laerte . . .’ Meurnau sighed.
‘Go and rescue him! Stop this from happening!’
‘Laerte, calm down!’
‘You coward!’ the boy screamed. ‘Go and fight! You are under our orders! Obey me! My father is your count! Save him!’
‘By all the gods, sir!’ intervened Orbey. ‘Get hold of yourself!’
Would they listen, take up arms and rescue his father? And liberate his mother, his brother and his sister? No. Neither Meurnau nor Master Orbey, nor the two soldiers present, seemed prepared to act. Overcome with anger, Laerte rushed to the door, taking all of them by surprise. He bolted down the passageway, reached the ladder and let himself slide down, his legs hugging the uprights. Behind him the captain’s stern voice rang out.
‘Laerte! Come back!’
He gave no thought to the risks he was taking. His reason had been obliterated by fear. This same fear was turning into a fierce determination. He had to see, with his own eyes, what was taking place on the forecourt of the church. The idea that he was powerless to prevent it did not even occur to him.
‘Laerte?’ said Esyld in astonishment as she saw him pushing open the barn doors.
‘Sir!’ Orbey was calling from the passageway.
Meurnau was already descending the ladder. Without even giving the girl a glance. Laerte mounted the horse she had just finished saddling. As the captain rushed forward to stop him, he spurred his mount and galloped away through the deserted streets of Aëd’s Watch. The absence of the town’s inhabitants did not worry him, for in the distance the sound of the crowd guided him. Their clamour was joined by the sound of the rain, like the roll of drums. When he was only two streets away from the square, spying the halberds held by soldiers in black uniforms at the corner of a house, he slowed down and covered his head with the patched hood of his cloak. He dismounted, releasing the horse without even attempting to tether it, and continued forward. He almost retreated, heart pounding, when a squad of soldiers passed in front of him, their boots stamping across the ground swept by the rain shower. He finally thought of the danger he was courting, of the folly he was committing with this sudden outburst of passion. The Empire was hunting for him. His
father was going to be executed. Instead of fleeing, he had thrown himself in the wolf’s jaws. What could he possibly do against an entire army . . . ?
Yet something forced him on. A strange fire burned inside him that he could not name or even describe. Perhaps hope still ran in his veins, to make his heart beat so fast. He had the sense that his clothes had suddenly become too small for him. He walked to the forecourt. A crowd pressed round the wide gallows that had been hastily erected. There was no joy, no enthusiasm, only cries of dismay, and some of outrage. And for good reason. His father stood straight and proud, gazing into the distance, on the platform, ready to be executed. At his side, his eyes lowered despite his attempt to remain dignified, his elder brother was murmuring a prayer. A rope was knotted around his neck and his hands were tied behind his back. Laerte almost fell to the ground.
He inhaled deeply.
‘Silence! Silence!’
At the front of the platform, a man with a gaunt face and a hawk-like nose tried to calm the crowd’s ire with quieting gestures. He wore silvery armour and a wide red cape attached at his shoulders and falling to his heels. An eagle was painted upon his breastplate, crushing a snake in its talons.