Les Enfants du solstice
(Les Chroniques de l'Hudres -2)
(Les Chroniques de l'Hudres -2)
Héloïse Côté
(Excerpt from chapter 3, p. 44-54)
When King Magne's councillors reached the great square of Dafidec, it was jam-packed, and the crowd was muttering discontentedly. All eyes were fixed on the parvis of the temple where the public crier had nailed up a parchment.
Léonte's white steed ploughed through the crowd, which stepped aside respectfully as their hero passed, but not without glancing suspiciously towards Nantor, who followed behind. Nantor just ignored them. When Léane, who brought up the rear, her face concealed by her hood, passed in turn, the inhabitants turned away, as they had gradually turned away from the goddess that she served over the years, out of fear of reprisals from the queen. The young woman looked around for Shiranian knights in the crowd, but saw none.
The three riders reached the bottom of the temple stairs, preceded by the murmur of the assembly.
As soon as they were in earshot, Léonte addressed the public crier, who was still in the square, as his duties required.
"Crier! Tell me what the message of the queen is."
The man turned around, discovered the identity of the person speaking to him and bowed deeply.
"Master Léonte," he greeted him gravely.
He noisily cleared his throat and began to read the document in the solemn tone required by royal messages and by the bad news he had the task of communicating to the illiterate crowd:
"I, Lyntas, Queen of Hudres, have the duty to ensure the spiritual well-being of the greater part of the populace, and therefore condemn to death on the pyre anyone who is still practising the pagan cult of the Duality. What dictates my action is my determination to purify Hudres of all pagans. In order for the decree to be made known to everyone, measures will be taken to have it proclaimed, posted everywhere and made known to everyone, so that no one will be ignorant of my benevolent ruling."
"I see," said Léonte coldly. "Who signed this decree, besides the queen?"
"Messires Antore, Vilsin and Moebes, master."
Without adding a word, Léonte turned his mount and rode back in the opposite direction. Still trailing behind him, Nantor remained serious, even though the decree did not affect him: the queen could not reproach the Namarres for not serving Shir. Quite the contrary, it was their very zeal in worshiping their unique god that caused them to be rejected by other peoples.
Léane, on the other hand, had a hard time keeping calm. As a representative of the forbidden cult, she would be the first one burned if she did not publicly repudiate the goddess, something she did not want to and could not do. Perfectly aware of the threat that again hung over her head, she nervously scanned the crowd, her mind working full speed. Where would she take refuge? Valdes was ruled out straight away, even though its inhabitants worshiped Shirana. At night, her recollections of her stay there hounded her and she woke up with her body soaked in sweat. As for the Osjes, who practised the same religion as their Valdesian cousins, she could not ask for their help. Not after having contributed to inflicting a bitter defeat on them.
"Léane of Tulirs?"
It had been so long since she had been called that she did not realize right away that she was being addressed. Léane had left her family's farm when she was very young to enter into the service of Shirana and had almost forgotten that she had been any person other than the high priestess of the goddess. Her parents were serfs of the Duke of Tulirs, one of the many nobles who did not sit on the royal council.
"Léane of Tulirs?" repeated the male voice, louder and with a tinge of impatience.
The crowd around the high priestess fell silent. She finally turned towards the place the voice had come from, and Léonte and Nantor did likewise. A group of soldiers on horseback was approaching. They had obviously been watching for their arrival, probably concealed in an alley. From the coat of arms on their armour, Léane immediately recognized them as members of the queen's guard.
"What do you desire of me?" she inquired, her heart pounding.
She knew precisely what they wanted. However, she refused to betray her fear in front of them in spite of the small voice in her head that begged her to run away. It was too late.
Léonte, who had discreetly moved his hand to the hilt of his sword, understood it too, observing that archers were emerging from the attics of surrounding houses and taking up positions on the roofs, with arrows aimed at Nantor, Léane and himself. His arm dropped down to his side again.
"Queen Lyntas has ordered us to arrest you for spreading the heresy of the Duality. Léane of Tulirs, follow us without commotion," continued the soldier.
To support his order, his comrades raised their weapons, already in full view, and brandished them threateningly.
Léane glanced towards her companions and understood, seeing Léonte make a dissuasive gesture to Nantor, telling them they were not to intervene. Perhaps there weren't enough soldiers to contain the two fearsome warriors, but the number of civilians who were in danger of being killed or wounded if they entered the fray or if the archers missed their targets was enough to make Léonte hold back. And therefore Nantor, along with the Shiranians in the vicinity, scattered into the crowd.
Léane felt a long shiver of anxiety run down her spine. She had no solution but to comply and follow the soldiers. The royal guard had been well prepared.
As the queen's men led away the high priestess of Shirana, there were no protests from the crowd, even though many inhabitants of the capital of Hudres still worshiped the Duality in the secret of their heart. The reign of terror, begun eleven years earlier when Lyntas had ascended to the throne, had a firm hold on them.*** Since he had arrived before Léonte, Léane, Nantor and the twins of Rasg, and had travelled part of the night, Dansec had dropped like a stone when he got to his room in the mother house of the Shiranians. His sleep had fortunately been free of dreams and when he rose he was in excellent condition physically, if not mentally. As soon as he had gotten wind of the rumour spreading through the city, he had headed for the great square of Dafidec accompanied by the Shiranian knights. Anonymous in the crowd thanks to hoods that hid their features, they had walked around in order to hear the reactions of the inhabitants to the queen's decree. They were about to return to the mother house when they saw soldiers from the queen's guard setting up an ambush. Sensing the trap, they had chosen to stay where they were. They had thus observed the arrival of the trio, heard the reading by the public crier and observed Léane's arrest. The knights close to Dansec had wanted to rush to the rescue of the high priestess, but the baron had dissuaded them:
"Think of the civilians!"
Reluctantly, the knights had abandoned their plans and looked on as powerless spectators.
The Darsonian had done likewise, looking resigned, though that was hardly how he felt. His thoughts were racing dangerously: "I hope she'll be thrown in prison so she can atone for all the evil she has done to me! I hope she burns! Never again will she be first in my mind or in my heart, which she crushed to dust too many times..." From now on, he would use his powers in the exclusive service of Hudres, and Léane would be nothing to him.
Dansec was on the verge of expanding his vindictiveness to all the women in creation when he noticed the blonde head of a man above the Hudresian crowd. Intrigued by the height of the individual, a characteristic of northerners, he studied his face more carefully and barely kept himself from exclaiming in surprise: he must be bold indeed to show himself so openly in the exact location where his brothers had recently been vanquished!
But the Osje was already moving away and, as soon as Léane was led away by the soldiers, he disappeared into an alley.
Dansec whispered to the closest Shiranian:
"Alfre, don't wait for me to go back to the mother house."
Before Alfre could reply, Dansec left the great square and hurried off after the Osje.
They plunged into the labyrinth of Dafidec, until the Osje stopped at the back door of a house in the eastern quarter and went inside.
Dansec went back to the main street, located the façade of the house and knocked on the shutter of the neighbour. A young girl opened, staring at him suspiciously.
"A gold coin for you," said the baron with a broad smile, "if you tell me who the house next door belongs to."
The child hesitated, but the temptation of money conquered her reservations.
"It's the house of a rich gentleman," she said, pulling tighter the blanket she had wrapped around her shoulders.
"A noble?"
She shook her head.
"No, just a rich man. A merchant," she decided to add. "His name is Garves. He moved here just before the invasion of the Osjes."
"Thank you, child!" Dansec replied, tossing her the promised reward.
The little girl greedily grabbed her booty and slammed the door.
The Darsonian found it strange that a merchant would take up lodging so far from his colleagues, who mostly lived in the western quarter. Nevertheless, knowing that quarter had suffered the most violent attack from the Osjes, one could believe it was by chance. Or a wise decision? But maybe this Graves had known in advance that an invasion was coming? Seeing the Osje enter this house as if it was his home, told him the hypothesis was more than likely.
The baron approached the merchant's house cautiously and tried to see if he could spot any sign of life through the windows. The place seemed deserted, even though Dansec knew it wasn't.
His curiosity was too great for the Darsonian to go away without finding any answers to his questions. He returned to the alley and pushed lightly on the handle by the back door. It opened noiselessly. The baron slipped inside.
Inside the lights were dim, but voices could be heard from the second floor. Dansec tip-toed to the stairway and listened.
The first voice belonged to the Osje; the Darsonian recognized the accent of men from the north when they tried to speak Hudresian. The second voice was unfamiliar to him. It must belong to Garves.
"...south of Sargus," said the unknown voice. "You cross a forest and then you're in the lands of the Shiranian. The woman and the boy live on the farm. You understand?"
"No survivors," answered the other man.
"Try not to fail as you did with the grand master," warned the stranger.
The Osje made a hostile grunt in reply.
"And my gold? And my brother's gold?"
"Carry out your mission, Falsgaf, and you will obtain your reward."
"My brother has done what the Hudresian asked and he has still not received his recompense."
"He will soon," promised the man with the drawling inflexions. "At the same time you get yours."
"Do not deceive us. The vengeance of the Osjes is terrible."
Dansec heard the floor creak near the stairway. He immediately slipped out of the house. It was absolutely imperative that Falsgaf or the other man not know that their conversation had been overheard by prying ears.
As soon as he was back on the main street, in spite of a voice in his mind that screamed at him to run, he walked away at an unhurried pace: a hasty departure would have attracted attention.
Nevertheless, as soon as he was out of the eastern quarter, he raced off: he didn't have a second to lose. He had to warn Léonte!*** In his austere apartments, Léonte was pacing, his eyebrows knitted, his face sullen. He had to get Léane out of prison before Lyntas had her burned, he had to find Regde before the army of the queen killed off the people of Hudres in the name of Shir, he had to drive the Damasian legions out of Hudres. So much work to do in so little time with so few reliable people to help him! Even if he dubbed all his novices, he would still not have enough knights to repel the legions... assuming that his knights remained in the city. They trembled, in fact, for their families who were threatened by the decree, and wanted to leave Dafidec to defend them. It was a legitimate desire, but they had sworn an oath to faithfully serve their Order. They were responsible for protecting all the secrets of the Shiranians and the precious property that had been amassed over the centuries in the mother house: the registers that permitted Lyntas to identify all Shiranians past and present, their descendants as well as the novices, the weapons, the mounts, caskets containing the funds necessary for the survival of the Order and, above all, the liturgical objects of Shirana, including a solid silver altar, which had been hastily transported to the basement of the mother house unbeknownst to the queen, when she had expelled the priestesses of the goddess from the land of Hudres. Now that the legions surrounded the capital, it would be practically impossible to move these treasures out through the secret passage in the mother house. The Shiranians had to mount guard and quiet their worries about their families.
Discrete knocks on his door and Fyae appeared.
"My sister is in the palace. Seres will see that she is installed."
There was a note of anger in the comment. Fyae seemed incapable of accepting that his sister would be the object of the attentions of a young man. Léonte took umbrage. Did Fyae belong to that caste of nobles that considered the peasants unworthy to speak to them and incapable of the least act of intelligence or goodness?
"Seres is a sturdy young man, worthy of trust," he said in a reproachful tone. "He was perhaps not of noble birth, but he is much more reliable than many of the petty nobles I am acquainted with. Your sister is in good hands."
"No doubt," grumbled the boy in a doubtful tone. "Do you have a mission to entrust me with?" he suddenly continued, not very inclined to dwell on the slippery ground of the of his sister's love affairs.
The grand master nodded.
"I would like you to find a woman who was in the service of your godfather eleven years ago. She is a midwife who lives in Dafidec and who has a daughter named Frannes."
"And once I have found her?"
"She has information I need to know. You will try to extract it from her."
"Is it about Regde?" Fyae guessed.
Léonte answered in the affirmative.
"You learn quickly, young Fyae. If you can acquire the powers of Dansec without the excessive pride that goes with them, you will make an excellent Shiranian."
The boy accepted the compliment without reacting, but, in his chest, his heart missed a beat. That Léonte would compliment him and, moreover, compare him to Dansec!
He asked instead, to conceal his agitation:
"How will I know it's them? Frannes is a common name."
Léonte pensively stroked his chin, remembering the words Léane had spoken under Shirana's control.
"You'll manage, Fyae. Show that you are following in the footsteps of Dansec!"
The boy gave a quick bow to hide his frustration and disappeared down the corridor. What was Léonte thinking entrusting him with such a difficult mission? Dafidec was one of the biggest cities in the north! It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack!
"Fyae!"
Dansec had appeared at the far end of the corridor and was running towards him. He had not bothered taking off his fur-lined cape, and his boots were dripping with muddy snow that was soiling the stone floor. When he had joined Fyae, he saw that the baron had lost his usual blasé air and was showing profound anxiety. The situation had to be dramatic for Dansec to abandon his characteristic indifference!
"What's happening?" asked Fyae, sensing disaster.
"I'll explain it to you at the same time as I tell Léonte."
The baron led the boy into the apartments of the grand master without bothering to knock.
Léonte raised his eyebrows at this abrupt entrance and asked:
"Dansec? You finally show yourself? Do you know about Léane's arrest?"
"Forget Léane, Léonte," the Darsonian replied. "In fact, forget all your current problems: your family is in grave danger! We must immediately leave for your lands!"...
© 2005 Éditions Alire & Héloïse Côté
To find out what happens next...
