Back From Chaos (41 page)

They spoke little on the ride back. The feel of her relaxed body against his filled Klast with a tenderness he had never known before. It pleased him that she had embraced the solitude of the croft he had found. He could never live in the city. He needed the extreme isolation to restore himself. It also afforded a measure of safety, mostly hidden and unknown. Yet, it was not so far that Brensa could not visit the city whenever she wished or when he was called away by his duties. She need never be truly alone there.

Klast had been especially pleased when Brensa had declared that at the cabin she did not feel the need to look over her shoulder all the time. She could relax there. That eased any worries he had over their isolation.

By the time they entered the gate into the city, the sun had already sunk low on the horizon. Dusk fell earlier so late into the summer. Outside the city, the wheat had been harvested with the help of some of the guards and the many itinerants who wandered into Bargia by ones and twos. Most of these had lost family to the plague and sought new beginnings. The stooks of wheat caught the late afternoon sun and reflected a golden sheen. Maize, too, had lost its summer green, its leaves darkened with brown edges. Along the stalks ears filled and ripened, promising a good yield in another moon if the rains held off.

Slanted shafts of light scintillated on the fine dust that hung in the still air. Babes sitting waiting for their suppers swiped at the sparkles in delight. Beside the small cottages that dotted the valley grew rows of beans, heavy with drying pods that rattled with seed in the wind. Some had already been picked, shelled, winnowed and stored in cool, dark crocks for winter soups. Plums hung purple on weighted boughs and apples showed their first blush of red. These and other signs of recovery lent a growing air of optimism. As Earth showed Her resilience, so did the people mirror it.

~ 96 ~

INTERLUDE

Klast spent as much time as could be spared from his duties to Gaelen making the cabin habitable. True to his promise, he did not touch the wild roses that covered the two small windows. But, under Brensa’s watchful eye, he trimmed the ones hanging in the way of the door. The roof received fresh sod, which he chose over thatch because it would keep the cottage warmer in winter and cooler in summer. He also made the small shed snug and dry for the horse and eventual cow, and added a few lengths to it to accommodate Brensa’s mare.

On the afternoons when Brensa could come with him, she spent her time sorting out the garden. Some perennial sage and oregano still grew there but had become entangled with weeds and grasses. They worked quietly, each engrossed in their own activity, content in being together. When Brensa found she did not have the strength to clear a particularly stubborn patch, she would call Klast to her rescue. Occasionally, he grumbled about having his own work to do. Then he would watch her struggle, ruefully shake his head, and do as she asked.

Though Brensa still had her small mare, they both preferred to ride the short distance together on Klast’s gelding. Klast used those precious interludes to slowly woo her, holding her close, stealing kisses, and occasionally stroking her neck and shoulders. As she relaxed and began to respond to his overtures, his hope that he would eventually be able to bed her increased. “Patience,” he admonished himself silently, over and over.

Brensa’s hands grew dry and rough from pulling and digging, but she displayed them as though they were badges of honour. “I never was made for fancy needlework anyway.” She gave a rare laugh, her face alight with optimism, as she showed them to Marja and Nellis. The sound warmed Klast. He was glad to see Brensa regain colour and even put back some of the weight she had never regained after her ordeal in the cave.

Since Marja’s son was due around winter solstice, Klast and Brensa agreed that it would be best to wait until spring to move into the cabin. Travel would be difficult once the snow fell, and Klast believed that Brensa would feel too isolated and have too little to do in winter. Brensa argued that this was not so, but conceded that she wanted to learn a thing or two about cooking. Winter would be a good time to do that, as she could not garden yet.

Klast gave Brensa some basic lessons in preparing what they gathered, along with the rabbits and game he hunted. Those, along with deer and an occasional boar, would supplement the milk and eggs from the cow and hens promised to them.

But he would not be able to relax until the trial was over and he and Gaelen saw what the mood of the people would be.

~ 97 ~

PREPARATION

Klast rounded up the remaining members of Sinnath’s gang, while Gaelen ordered the platform built for the public execution. Interrogation of Markel, the leader, and his followers uncovered no new information. The others, including Sinnath himself, had provided all they needed.

Gaelen wanted the trial and execution to proceed with haste. Harvest Festival was approaching, and he knew the people needed that celebration unmarred by strife, after the long summer of disease and death.

Marlis, Sinnath’s wife, was held under house arrest, with no visitors and only one attendant, pending her seclusion at the women’s retreat. That move would not take place until after the public trial, where she must be present to witness her husband’s execution.

Klast knew that neither Gaelen nor his remaining advisors looked forward to that spectacle. To her immense relief, Marja was excused, due to her condition. Because of the high rank Sinnath had held, they expected the trial would attract some of his supporters as well as the usual crowd of curious onlookers. Gaelen planned a strong military presence to avert any unrest. Klast would stay close to his dais, in case Gaelen needed protection.

As well, there would be those who came to jeer and those who had a thirst for such bloody scenes. Not since before Gaelen’s birth had a trial of this importance taken place. Only Marja and Klast knew how keenly he wished it were not necessary now. To all others he kept up the impression of solid strength. As lord, it would fall to him to give the public order for execution and watch it carried out. At least he would not be expected to order the traitors’ heads displayed on stakes. That gory sight was reserved for treason during an active state of war. These men’s bodies would simply be buried in an unmarked location outside the city, along with their heads, and hopefully soon forgotten.

~ 98 ~

EXECUTION

On the day of the execution, people began to drift into the public square by ones, twos and in small groups, jostling for position and staking out claims for the best view. A special platform stood to the side for the wealthy and influential. This had a canopy over it, in the event of rain or too much sun, and had been set with chairs. Many who expected to fill those chairs would be present only because they considered it their duty. Sinnath had been friend and colleague to them. This execution gave them no pleasure.

A separate, smaller dais, also covered, had been erected on the opposite side. Here, Gaelen would preside over the trial and executions. Sinnath’s speech would take place under guard, at the centre front of the main platform. His neck would be the first on the block, followed immediately by the others, watching and awaiting their turn. These would wait, standing at the back of the main platform, heavily guarded and tied to posts.

It seemed Earth mourned along with Gaelen and his party. A steady drizzle soaked the square. Those on the side platform were grateful for the canopies that kept them dry. The chill rain helped keep the mood of the crowd sober, dampening the raucous behaviour that could accompany such occasions.

Liethis had requested to be excused, as she experienced excruciating pain around such events. But Gaelen explained that the people would accept the verdict more readily if she gave a statement about its healing effect on Earth and the future of Bargia. She had reluctantly deferred to his wishes. They agreed that she would not appear until after the beheadings, give a few brief words of a positive nature and have her horse ready to leave the city immediately after.

Liethis’ message would be a true seeing. She had told Gaelen that Earth had shown her the trial was coming, and that it was a necessary event for restoring Her Balance. The death of the traitors would serve to balance the birth of the coming heir. Knowing this did not make it any easier, or Liethis’ pain any less. Gaelen knew she would not be able to take food for days afterward.

At midday, Gaelen ascended his platform and stood at the rail. He nodded acknowledgement to those seated on the other side, then raised his hands to still the crowd as he made ready to speak.

“
Good people of Bargia. It is with a heavy heart that I must today bring to trial for treason one of my lord father’s most trusted advisors. Yet, we have undeniable proof that Sinnath is guilty of that blackest of crimes against Bargia.” Gaelen briefly described the evidence against Sinnath, then concluded, “Now you will hear the traitor’s guilt from his own mouth. Guards, bring the prisoner, Sinnath, forward.”

Sinnath, ankles shackled, hobbled to the rail between two guards, who remained standing beside him as he prepared to speak. He wore the grey sack tunic reserved for those awaiting execution. He had been permitted to shave and bathe, albeit under the watchful eyes of guards, lest he decide to take his own life. Gaelen had suggested these concessions in order to avoid the impression that Sinnath acted under duress. His feet were bare, as was his head.

“
Sinnath, you stand convicted of treason against Bargia and your lord. What have you to say?” Gaelen’s voice rang out strong and firm, and he looked steadily at Sinnath. No one saw the effort this took, except possibly Klast.

Though his ankles were hobbled, his wrists bound, and two guards closely flanked his sides, Sinnath held his head erect and stood with a dignity that belied the fate he faced. He waited a moment for the murmuring of the crowd to still and began in a strong, calm voice that carried to the farthest corners of the square.

“
Good people. I stand before you a man guilty of the most grievous crime against Bargia and our lord. You have heard the evidence against me. I tell you, all of it is true. I offer no excuses, no lies. When Lord Gaelen came into power, I mistakenly believed him too young and inexperienced to rule. This made me blind to the advantages of the changes he proposed, not the least of which was to take to wife the daughter of the enemy. That choice flew in the face of all tradition. And I am a man of tradition. So I conspired with others, both inside and outside Bargia, to remove the threat I believed this joining would bring. I see clearly, now, that I was wrong. Lord Gaelen and Lady Marja have both served Bargia ably and nobly.”

Sinnath cleared his throat as his voice broke. Regaining his composure he continued. “If any of you have any doubts where I now stand, hear this. Bargia has a lord, stronger and abler than any before him, even his beloved father, Lord Bargest. Lord Gaelen’s choice of lady has resulted in greater stability than any victory over a conquered people has brought in history. The Lady Marja has shown her care for the people of Bargia throughout the plague that cost so many lives. And this, while carrying an heir; this, in spite of danger to herself and that son. Both our lord and lady serve the people tirelessly. I say to you again. I was wrong. I confess my guilt in the hope that doing so will prevent further treason and bloodshed. I go willingly to my death. It is meet and fit. I beg those who followed me to desist from any further treason on my behalf.”

Sinnath turned and knelt, facing Gaelen. “My lord, I am grateful for this opportunity to speak. May your reign be long and prosperous and your lady be delivered of a healthy son and heir. Forgive me.” Then he bowed his head and waited.

The crowd had not expected this. They stood in stunned and awkward silence. None of the usual responses seemed to fit.

Gaelen wasted no time, not wanting to give the crowd a chance to begin its hubbub. “People, you have heard Sinnath’s confession to treason. When sentence has been carried out, return to your homes with his plea for allegiance to Bargia in your hearts, that we may look forward to a new prosperity and peace.”

He turned to the platform where Sinnath knelt, his head still bowed. “Sinnath, by your own confession, and by the evidence presented, you are guilty of treason. The sentence for treason is death. Your wife, Lady Marlis, will spend the rest of her life in seclusion at Wemblin, with the women keepers there. She will be permitted no visitors or correspondence. All your goods are forfeit to Bargia. Your bastard son will be fostered with a man I trust, raised to love Bargia and to defend her, if necessary, when he comes of age.”

Sinnath raised his head and shot Gaelen a look of profound gratitude at this public declaration of his promise.

“
Now,” regret crept into Gaelen’s voice, though it remained strong and all could clearly hear, “you will place your neck on the block and have it severed from your body. The same will follow for those with you. Let all know the punishment for treason. Let it be done.”

The two guards helped Sinnath to his feet, led him to the block, and lowered him so that his neck rested on it. Sinnath did not hesitate. Later, all would admire his courage. The axe-man raised his weapon high above his head and looked to Gaelen for his signal. At Gaelen’s nod he swung with all his strength. The axe curved in a wide arc and bit into its first target. The crowd gasped in unison as they watched the head roll into the waiting basket, and Sinnath’s blood spurt past in great gouts and dwindle to nothing. Waiting soldiers quickly removed the body, and replaced the basket containing his head with a fresh one.