Updated 5/1/24

Chapter 21

Rebekah - 275

Rebekah had wondered how many clues she’d have to drop when the light of understanding finally flashed in James’ eyes. She hoped no one else had witnessed it. Or, worse, misinterpreted it. Otherwise, one might think she’d indecently propositioned him, as the dowager seated on her other side had hinted at doing.

“I…no, just eating too fast,” he said as a servant delivered a small, rolled parchment. “However,” he flashed a dazzling smile, “I’ve just been informed of a matter that I must attend to. After which, I must depart immediately. Therefore, would you walk me out?”

He stood and helped her from her chair.

Drake cast an annoyed glance at them.

“I’ll be right back, my Lord,” she said with a curtsey. Drake gave a nod and turned away.

The bodyguard followed.

Once they were beyond the feasting commoners, and walking toward the stables, the second bodyguard took his place behind them.

Rebekah whispered, “What’s going on?”

James leaned close and winced. “I have somehow offended our hostess, Lady Parynna.” They continued to stroll, the two bodyguards following close behind. “She intends to frame me for unseemly behavior and then blackmail or defame me. As I’ll never again pretend to be Albertus Bekh, it’ll cause me no trouble. If I leave immediately. The same may not be true, however, for Tommas Bekh, my ‘father.’” He grinned.

“How do you know of this scheme?”

“A servant told my bodyguard that Lady Parynna thinks me a flesh peddler. And that you are my latest customer. Thus ensnaring you as well. We must both flee.”

“Thank you for the warning. If there’s anything I can do…”

Jonathan - 273

Her voice cut through Jonathan. “…anything I can do…” His breath caught. They were the first words the dowager uttered clearly, and they could only belong to Rebekah.

He stared, marveling at her disguise. Although it had been many years since he had seen her up close. This old woman bore no resemblance to his wife. Except her eyes.

Jonathan shook himself back to the current predicament. He evaluated each person they passed. They must keep a leisurely pace toward the stables and the gate.

He followed them closely.

James spoke quietly to Rebekah, “I must help the servant and her granddaughter get out of Caswell Castle. Lady Parynna is forcing them to stay. Without her warning we would have been easily surrounded. I’ve only horses for my bodyguards and myself. Riding double would slow us down, not to mention draw attention.”

“Leave them to me,” Rebekah said. “I have resources nearby.”

Jonathan smiled. You are amazing, dear wife.

Then James strolled on with Rebekah on his arm.

Jonathan noted a commotion back at the feast. A man pointed at them.

He whispered to James, “We’ve been noticed.”

Jonathan continued to scan the area. A group of armed men formed up and marched quickly into the street.

Jonathan whispered, they’re coming fast.”

Rebekah - 340

Arm-in-arm with James, whose pace now quickened some, Rebekah walked to the stables south of the castle. As the first bodyguard opened the stable door for them, the other murmured from behind…

“Grio, kvenna astri. Sok met fjellet.”

It was perfect Mestelin for “Peace, beautiful wife. Seek me in the mountain.”

She stifled a gasp, overcome and blinking away tears. Her heart clenched. She yearned to turn around, to hold him. Yet couldn’t. They were being pursued. She couldn’t let anyone know she was his wife, not even James. There was too much at stake.

The people stopped and stared at the armed men poking and prodding them out of the way.

She must not be seen addressing Albertus Bekh’s bodyguard. She could, however, speak to James. “I am so happy to have seen you, to know you are well. We will meet again.”

“Hurry,” James said, scanning the street as many armed men spread out, searching every doorway and merchant stall.

Two women cowered in the shadows of the stable.

Jonathan stepped forward. “This is my employer,” he said pointing at James.

James nodded toward Rebekah. “This is the lady who will get you safely out of Caswell. Do exactly as she says.”

They looked uncertain for a moment.

Rebekah asked the stable boy to ready her coach. As soon as he left, she motioned the serving women toward the stable’s rear door. “Come with me.”

Jon, James, and the other bodyguard donned hooded cloaks bearing the green dragon sigil and mounted. Then they rode casually into the street. Her breath caught as she stifled a sob.

Jon, that scraggly beard. You are well and as strong as ever. Oh, how I miss you.

A rendezvous location used by Licht Gegen was only a block away. There, a quick change into common everyday shifts and cloaks, a little flour make-up, and spilled wine permitted a gaggle of old farmers’ wives to make their drunken way out of the city in the midst of other peasants leaving the castle.

Jonathan - 189

Jonathan rode in silence, pleased to know that Rebekah was still alive. But what was she doing impersonating a dowager noblewoman? Drake must have helped her. He glanced at the lad riding beside him.

Once they were well away from Caswell Castle, he could wait no longer. “James, do you know that woman?”

“Which one?”

“The old one you sat at table with.”

“Oh, I just met her. She knows Tommas Bekh, the other friend to us that I mentioned before.” He chuckled. “I guess I shouldn’t have used the name Albertus Bekh.”

Jonathan hid his disappointment behind a laugh and they rode on without another word. He pondered the strange circumstance, praying to see her again. Entering the woods, he removed the Lorness cloak and gave it to James, who stuffed both in a leather pouch. When they came to a fork in the road, he canted his head to James. “Thank you for allowing me to see my son’s wedding. I think it best we separate now. Godspeed to you.”

As soon as James returned the nod, Jonathan galloped off on the westward trail toward Mestelina.

Owakar - 62

Amidst the Atmosphere of Lorness

Owakar stirred through the updating facts, marveling at Jonathan and Rebekah Otual. Each continued to pray as the Writings had shown them. And who is this Albertus Bekh boy? He poked a link. So many trails to follow.

[Lead me, O LORD, in thy righteousness because of mine enemies; make thy way straight before my face.]

Spy - 150

Outside Caswell Castle

The girl, Rhin-something, was pretty and had carried a purse full of baden and a sealed letter from Parynna Caswell. The spy easily extracted information from her. He took pride in his work, delighting in the suffering of another as he encouraged them to speak. Thus, for it to end so soon was a disappointment.

He knew all of Earl Gaelib Melazera’s allies. And Parynna Caswell wasn’t one of them. That the letter was for Caileagh, the earl’s wife, was of no consequence. He served the earl alone.

But the letter contained an intriguing idea: Follow and, at an opportune moment, kidnap the knight’s daughter-in-law. That would off-balance the boy and, with luck, lead to the father.

Even if none of that happened, the spy knew that merely possessing someone close to Otual would bring his patron exquisite pleasure.

He smiled.

And perhaps generosity toward me.

Parynna - 183

New Moon, Summer, Caswell Castle  

Parynna was still angry weeks later. She stormed through Caswell Castle, fuming, seeking anyone on which to take out her ill temper, scattering servants before her.

The fool! The absolute fool! If I’d known Rebekah Otual was in attendance as one of those doddering old harridans, I could have quietly scooped her up and shipped her off to Caileagh. When Drake finally told me, she had already fled.

She flopped onto a couch, her brows furrowed. “Blast.” Catching sight of a serving maid approaching with a pitcher, she scowled. “Be away with you!” Although she wanted to beat the life out of him, Drake wasn’t her only annoyance.

Lady Melazera has not responded to my missive. Surely, the serving girl was attractive enough. That stupid minx who won my contest couldn’t resist yet more baden to deliver a simple note. She’d never escape Caileagh.

Perhaps my suggestion that Drake start a Knights’ School was too presumptuous. Although, it would be a wonderful way to infiltrate that sect. Have I offended her? What can I do to atone?

Chapter 22

Sarah - 277

Locke Estate, Lexandria

Sarah leaped from the wagon and ran into her friend’s embrace. It seemed like she’d been away for moons. But it had only been one.

Melyssa pulled her into the shadow of the doorway and pointed toward a man as dark as ebony with long braids entering the gate. He was tall and had bright-colored feathers coming from the crown on his head.

“That’s the son of Clan Ush’s headman from south of the mountains. His name is Kel’shan.”

Sarah gasped. “Is he a prince?”

Melyssa smiled dreamily at him. “Yes. Of a sort. They call it something else.”

Looking from her friend to the handsome man who disappeared into the castle, Sarah bumped Melyssa’s shoulder. “Come, silly; you are truly smitten.”

Melyssa sighed, “He will be here for a week.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Everyone’s gone daft lately. Ned looks at me like that sometimes until I hit him with my practice sword.”

Finally, she was home. At least, it felt like home. Here, she was a midwife. Almost a midwife.

Ma still attended births in the village, so she often left Sarah here when any of the Locke wives were expecting. Sarah was her ma’s assistant, and she knew everything necessary.

Midwifery was all about waiting. Waiting for the mother to look pregnant. Waiting for the baby to kick. Waiting for the baby to come out. And then hoping the baby would cry.

Ellyth Locke, the Duchess of Lexandria, wanted Ma to stay in Lexandria. Someone was always pregnant. But Ma devoted herself to the women of the village as well, so she regularly traveled between the two locations. Sixty miles each way. As a compromise, she left her daughter to take care of the normal complaints of pregnancy and to attend to labor if Ma did not make it back in time.

If that happened, they sent for other local midwives when contractions began. They couldn’t trust a mere girl. And they shouldn’t.

I understand that. I don’t want to be in charge, either.

This time, no one came. Oh, the family was there, all the old aunts and the sisters, looking at Sarah. Melyssa watched, too, from her place beside them.

At first, they all chattered lightly to each other at the borders of the room. But as Aleyn groaned louder and louder, they moved closer. Finally, the water splashed out.

Now, they’re all around watching over my shoulder as I look beneath Aleyn’s skirt. The baby hasn’t come down.

After the water, the baby came, usually. She prayed in the spirit.

“Lady Aleyn, please rise up to a squat.” She helped her up and waited a bit longer. More loud wails. Still no baby.

Oh, J’shua, please tell me what to do.

My skin’s buzzing like bees. Where is that blasted midwife? I must do something. They’re all looking to me. I’ve seen Ma do it many times. She taught me exactly what to do, but… this is my first time.

Aleyn cried out.

Sarah felt for the head of the obstinate child, pushing it up, hard. She groaned, turning, turning. Her fingers hurt.

No. Push, then turn.

She felt it move. Oh! And drop.

The babe’s crowning.

With an almighty grunt, Aleyn delivered a squalling boy.

Praise J’shua!

After Sarah placed him in his mother’s arms, she wanted to collapse. But there was still work to do.

When both mother and babe were nursing well, she retreated and watched the family surrounding Aleyn.

Leaning against the wall, smiling, she sighed. My first birth, alone.

Chapter 23

Blackhawk

Full Moon, Autumn, High Keep

Friends of every rank surrounded Major Steven Blackhawk. The dingy little tavern was just on the other side of the stables. It stank and was probably only swept once a week. But after a few rounds, no one noticed. The drinks were cheap, so he could afford to be generous.

“…Did you hear what happened to that drecksa, Karl Fortuch?” Lieutenant Samuel Benutt asked with a sly grin, drawing everyone’s attention. “Some lieutenant lost Karl’s boots and got a major dressing down for it.”

“A major dressing down from a major? Your jokes are getting worse. Maybe it’s the ale,” Blackhawk teased, taking a bite of mutton.

Samuel grinned. “Fortuch’s voice could be heard for miles. If you were in camp, you couldn’t have missed it.”

“Sounds like the dolt,” Donert Maitlan chimed in.

“It gets better,” Sam continued, grinning. “He made the lieutenant strip and run exercises buck naked.”

“Blast, I missed it,” Brean Mitchett chortled, slapping the rough-hewn oak table.

“And…?” Blackhawk pointed the clean bone at Sam. “There’s always more to your stories.”

Sam’s grin exploded with his laugh. “Turns out the lieutenant’s uncle is Commander Taelor.”

“What a prat!” Donert shook his head.

Blackhawk’s eyes widened. “Fortuch has only had that rank for a week.” It was ten years ago that Fortuch had tried to frame him.

“You haven’t heard the best bit. The lieutenant had nothing to do with the missing boots. It was the whore Karl bedded the night before who stole them…” Benutt could barely get the words out, “as a tax for being lousy in bed.”

They roared with laughter.

“So…he’s a captain…again.”

“Here’s to Captain Karl Fortuch!”

***

Major Blackhawk had continued to gain friends and influence, having attained his new rank in less than ten years. He’d decided to do good. He was happy.

Tonight, he left them long before closing, kicking up dust as he ambled back to his room in the castle. He had duty early in the morning. Warmed by drink but still able to walk straight, he was in a pensive mood.

He often pondered on Little Soldier. Ten years ago he left her in River Town. Was she alive? Where was she living? Was she happy? She’d be of marriageable age now. He chuckled when the image of her angry scowl flitted through his thoughts. He said a prayer for her would-be-husband. And he prayed that she wasn’t forced to marry some old pock-marked merchant or, worse, a noble. Most of all, he pictured her big smile and her faith. “The way is clear when it is needed.”

Although Blackhawk saw no open worship of J’shua at High Keep, those he’d met here carried the same spirit as Little Soldier—many of them, most of the time. He wondered if their parents had taught them about J’shua. Could that be the difference? Following J’shua was banned at Farr Castle and Lorness, but not here. Or could it simply be that these people’s parents had trained them to behave better?

I’m not convinced it has anything to do with this J’shua person.

***

Even though he’d little warning of the summons, his jangled nerves had already left him exhausted. His mind teetered between feeling unworthy of the king’s attention to wondering if he’d violated some regulation or custom. He felt as if he’d been in a battle, fought a hundred men, and somehow survived.

Having the king assign him to the King’s Guard was beyond surprising. Being commanded to remain behind and speak privately with the king, he had no words for that. It was beyond any honor he could have expected. Certainly, beyond any he deserved. All he’d done was serve loyally.

He no longer believed Gaelib Melazera was all-powerful. He had as a boy. However, he’d been right to fear the nobleman. The Earl of Lorness was malevolent, violent, and fickle. Blackhawk had seen him turn on too many of his friends without warning. Things that he’d only realized looking back on old memories.

His conversation with King Edal, if it could be called that, provided Blackhawk insights he was still coming to grips with.

He’d always thought in terms of Melazera as the sole power behind the scenes. It hadn’t occurred to him there were more: the Lockes in the South, diplomats from foreign countries, the guilds, the Merchants’ Alliance, and so on.

For nearly half an hour, the king had spoken, and Blackhawk had responded with little more than, “Yes, Your Majesty.” Yet the king had encouraged him to ask questions…and had answered them—honestly. Neither Gaelib Melazera nor Caileagh had ever done that. They had never engendered a desire to serve them in return. Yet the king had, without ever asking for it.

All the king wanted was for Blackhawk to do his best and follow his conscience.

Not the king’s conscience. Blackhawk’s conscience.

It was freeing and unnerving.

He fiddled with the assignment letter as he returned to his station. He’d never felt more alive.

***

Later, Blackhawk sat in his room, reading an encoded letter from Melazera. It had been less than a week since his last report to the Earl of Lorness. That he’d received any reply at all was unusual. For Gaelib Melazera to be exhilarated by recent developments was unheard of. It alarmed him.

Despite being written in code, the tone of the missive was joyous, including the phrases “magnificent achievement,” “outstanding coup,” and “beyond all my high expectations.” Such was the praise for Blackhawk on his induction into the King’s Guard.

Then he read something that made his neck hairs stand up. Melazera was “ready for the next phase.” Blackhawk’s concern wasn’t solely for himself. Or, he didn’t think it was.

He had no idea what the next phase of the plan entailed. Something terrible was about to happen—to him, to someone else, or to both. He knew better than to ask questions. That could be fatal. Yet, Melazera didn’t offer details…

Blackhawk pulled the buttons from beneath his shirt, holding them tightly in his hands.

I can’t break away from Melazera. He would kill me. Nor can I oppose him. It would be suicide.

Yet King Edal is a good man. A man I’m honored to serve. A man who deserves my loyalty. But he isn’t, I fear, able to overcome Melazera. If I don’t learn his plans, I’ll be powerless to stop them. But if I appear more interested, he might make me do more.

Recent visits of Rosewud to High Keep suggested the Order of the Black Robe was growing here. With such a deep pool of acolytes present, Melazera could orchestrate anything.

His stomach clenched. He had no way to infiltrate them without becoming entangled in some trap. Or taking part in one of their deadly rituals. He surveilled the undersecretary of Gaelib Melazera as much as he could, but it was futile.

Blackhawk forced the impotent thoughts aside. Especially the momentary notion of thwarting Melazera’s plan. That was madness.

Chapter 24

Rebekah

Fairness Crossing

It was two years since Rebekah last met Daikon Crispus. Finally, some orphans adopted by Licht Gegen reached twelve years old and wished to become knights.

Their adoptive parents brought five of them to the inn at Fairness Crossing to meet Tommas Bekh. He gave them a test. They would travel to the Kiss on Shining Mountain, relying on each other and J’shua.

Rebekah gave the boys instructions and bid them a good journey.

After they left, she followed at a distance to make sure they reached their destination unmolested. It was at least a three-day journey on foot. She was pleased to see them work together to gather herbs to eat, decide which way to go, and keep watch as they took turns sleeping. When the Kiss came into view above them, they began singing.

The God of Truth extends his mighty scepter.

You will rule in the midst of your enemies.

Your troops, J’shua, will be valiant on your day of battle.

Arrayed in holy majesty.

The God of Truth has sworn and will not change his mind:

You are a priest forever, after the order of Melchizedek.

Daikon Crispus met them with a big smile. He pointed to the Kiss, where another knight stepped into view. “Follow Daikon Angus.” He watched them bound away.

Bekh stepped from cover, grinning at the old knight.

Crispus embraced her. “Jonathan has been here.”

“Is he well?”

Crispus nodded. “I passed on your message. He understood and wished you well with your mission. As you requested, he’s heard nothing of Tommas Bekh from us. He left letters for you. I’ll fetch them.”

Rebekah smiled forlornly as she watched him walk away. She was eager to read anything Jonathan might write. Any word from him would be a welcome relief from the tedious missives she had recently passed on to Licht Gegen. Her daily meditation of late was her guidepost:

[Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.]

Chapter 25

King Edal

Farr Castle

The Royal Court was in residence at Farr Castle. Everyone was invited to the annual Great Hunt in the King’s Forest. Every noble that could attend did, no matter how far they had to travel. Merchants, traders, and street performers congregated too. Even commoners came to cheer on the hunters from afar.

King Edal, beloved by the people, waved to spectators as he rode out for the first hunt. Farrling Wood was full of riders. With banging drums, the beaters in the distance drove the swine toward the hunters. King Edal headed toward his tent. Before it, nobles and their servants loitered about.

“You lot are too noisy. No boar would come this way,” the king complained to the large entourage with him. “Remain here.” His attendant and cousin followed as he found the perfect spot, a clearing with a thick forest behind him providing a yard of shade. “It will probably be some time before we see any movement.”

“Shall I bring more wine, Sire?” his attendant asked.

King Edal raised a hand. “I’ve had enough.”

“Of this swill?” his cousin added. “I couldn’t agree more. It’s ghastly. How could your man serve this? I’ll be back shortly with something drinkable. You,” he snapped at his own servant, “come with me. I can hardly trust you to select a wine suitable for the king.”

“You’re going to ride off without my leave, cousin?” Edal teased.

“I apologize, Your Majesty. I forgot myself. I—”

“Go! You aren’t good company without a fine vintage within. It will be a pleasure to have a few moments of peace.”

Some time passed, ending with a telltale rustling in the bushes.

King Edal smiled. Luck was with him. He’d chosen his spot well. Perhaps the first kill of the day. Lowering his lance, he seated it betwixt elbow and hip.

The boar attacked.

He spurred his horse forward.

The lance struck true, mortally wounding the beast. Yet, it wasn’t done.

A fine specimen, it tore free and turned to face the horse now behind it.

Edal looked for his attendant, who should have been making his own pass at the boar. There was no sign of the man; blast him. Not that he needed him. The creature would bleed out in only moments.

With a smile on his lips, King Edal drew his two-handed sword and waited.

The bleeding boar charged.

The king had his horse dart backward out of the way as he brought the blade down. Its tip effortlessly cut through the animal’s spine, killing it instantly.

Edal circled slowly, inspecting his prize. It was indeed magnificent.

His only warnings were a soft footfall and a glint of light. Then only pain and darkness.

The Spy

The assassin twisted his boar spear within the gap in the king’s brigandine to maximize the damage. Not that there was any need, but for the joy of it. Hunting animals was so much less gratifying than hunting men. And to hunt a king? It was a good day indeed.

Bracing himself, he withdrew his spear from its entry point. Blood gushed from the king’s armpit, soaking the horse and ground as the king’s lifeless body toppled from the saddle.

Snuffles from the bushes indicated more wild boar. Scooping up the king’s sword, he slid his spear deep into the underbrush. It was perfect against the monarch but was too unwieldy against multiple beasts. The long sword would serve better.

The killer-for-hire struck the king’s horse with the flat of the blade and it gallop off.

He ran to his mount, relishing the thought of what the wild animals would do to the king’s body. There’d be no signs the assassin had ever been there. It was a good day indeed.

He even had a trophy to remember it by, at least until he returned to Lorness, where Earl Melazera would claim it. He hooked the king’s long sword in his belt.

Gaelib

Screams drew Gaelib and many others. Those of man, horse, and boar. But he was not soon enough.

What confronted him was grisly indeed. Blood covered the ground.

The king had killed one boar, but it hadn’t been alone. Two sows had mauled him, one ripping at King Edal’s face, the second at an arm. All were dead now.

The ferocity of the scene mesmerized Gaelib.

No one will doubt what happened. The nobles will blame themselves for leaving the king alone, so they could be the first to kill a boar. People are so predictable.

He maintained his façade of grief as he slowly walked his mount away.