Crystal Warrior: Through All Eternity (Atlantean Crystal Saga Book 1) (56 page)

One such was an old cili priestess who now was almost blind and lived in the glodad. Many people were having dreams and premonitions but old Linda had been respected and revered almost as Electra had been in her time and nearly every family in Fyr Heceuda had benefited from her guidance and ability to foretell the future. Word of Linda's dream of the total devastation of Atlantis spread through the city and out into the countryside faster than a ferret stealing chickens.

Difleer heard it from the kitchens and told Gynevra on her return from Temple Hecanil at midday. Gynevra shared it with Taur when he returned from Zedanil shortly after. Only from Gynevra could he not conceal the true volatility of his feelings. Among his people, whatever the emergency, he was a tower of calm strength to whom all looked for guidance and assurance. Around him was a huge aura of confidence and controlled purpose that gave his people a sense of security and the belief nothing could befall them if he was in sight.

Only with Gynevra did that aura sometimes crack.

‘Cronos! That's all it'd take!’ he growled dropping to the couch where she sat with Ugo on her knee and Qerlim resting watchfully at her feet. Absently he slipped one arm across her shoulders and laid his other hand on her swelling abdomen. ‘Many are close to a state of panic now. A story like that is tinder to straw thatch when I'm trying to keep people calm! All cilii should be killed at birth!’

‘Taur! Calm down,’ Gynevra said quickly. ‘It sounds like you're starting to panic now.’

‘Ah, Gyn’a, my Gyn’a,’ he muttered dragging a hand through his hair. ‘Sometimes it's hard not to but I must never let my people see that. Rub my neck—please!’ He slid to the floor and sat between her knees. ‘Your hands are magic.’

As Gynevra massaged the tension out of his neck and shoulders he talked of the trading ships in port, two Egyptian and one Phoenician, whom he'd persuaded to switch their cargo from goods to passengers.

‘It cost me plenty too,’ he muttered. ‘I had to buy all their cargo and pay for the alterations to the ships. What in Hyades am I supposed to do with two hundred barrels of candle wax and two stades of string wick?’

Gynevra knew he didn't require an answer; he just needed an outlet for all the frustration surrounding him.

‘There are more people wanting to leave than there are places on the ships so I've asked them to come back again and suggested they bring silk, fine linen, frankincense and myrrh, wheat, spices, wine, barrels of salted meat, pottery, gold and silver plate, and fine jewelery. I'll buy the lot and pay them to take their ships away filled with people again. At least they're grinning.’

‘It's usually the way,’ Gynevra observed quietly. ‘One man's misfortune is another's gain.’

‘Aye,’ Taur agreed grimly and clamped his mouth shut.

Qerlim leapt across Taur's feet followed by Ugo, his stubby little legs much less nimble. As he strove to catch the wolf's tail, Taur caught him up and tossed him high amid the usual chortles of delight.

‘Pav'on, Pav'on!’ the child cried. ‘Qer'm chase!’

Chuckling, Taur set the child on his feet and he set off again after Qerlim who was now crouching behind the table.

‘Time that boy had some proper playmates,’ he said suddenly. ‘The future King of Nyalda's being raised by a bunch of women and a wolf!’

‘There's something wrong with that?’ Gynevra snapped suddenly, her hands stilling on his shoulders. ‘Women generally raise children, especially until they're two years old, and that wolf could probably care for him all on her own. I swear they talk to each other!’

Taur heaved himself up onto the couch beside Gynevra.

‘Ah, my prickly little spiny-hog! Of course there's nothing wrong with that but it just reminded me of another thing I've been thinking about. There are two of my uh—two lads in the House of Children whom I sired, Jonda and Boal. I've had my eye on them for some time. You might remember them. They won the Queen's prize for being the most conscientious and helpful with the younger children at the Year's End Celebrations.

‘They're a very steady pair of lads and I have it in mind to install them here in the Castle to be minders, tutors, companions for Ugo. What do you think?’

Gynevra sat silent wondering for a moment just what she did think. How would she feel having Taur's sons by other women about her, in her home, raising her son? She'd had to come to terms with it at the House of Children where there were many boys, and girls too, with the distinctive deep green eyes, blue-black hair and wearing the obsidian lightstone.

There were none younger than her own son and she knew there wouldn't be. The man who'd sired those others was a different man to the one who held her in his arms every night. Jonda and Boal would've been sired when he was much younger, even before the Spring Festival where he'd maimed Gotham and played Rafid to Phryne's Adonai.

‘I imagine they would be perfect for the job,’ she agreed seriously. ‘You'll approach their parents?’

‘Mmm. No problem there I shouldn't think. Both sacred fathers are in the Castle Guard and I'm sure they'll understand the opportunity afforded their sons by growing up as trusted companions of the future King.’

Chapter 32

Late the following afternoon, with scarcely pause for greeting or excuse, the King strode into the Queen's Court, women scattering before him like leaves before a windstorm. Something was terribly wrong, Gynevra knew. Eyes glowing the green-black of moldavite and skin hectic with color, she thought something ailed him. Her heart thumped cruelly against the wall of her chest. In a flash she saw her life without him at her side and momentarily thought she would be ill.

‘Ladies of the Court!’ he roared, almost before he reached Gynevra's side. ‘I've just come from the village of Rege, by Rege Spa where I helped to create a pyre big enough to burn every resident in that village because that dundod cili spouted about a breara dream! And if that's not damage enough for you there were at least seven suicides in the city last night. Seven!’ The word reverberated round the lofty stone halls and none dared breathe in the silence that followed. ‘I hear any more reports of dreams or prophecies from any one, cili or not, I'll personally cut their qabaa tongues out! Do I make myself understood?’

A stunned hush met this outburst and before anyone had recovered from the shock or been able to move or speak, he added, his voice harsh and stern, ‘It's a royal decree. Let it be known wherever you go!’

Whirling about he strode towards the Public Chambers. The women sat for a moment, heads bowed, mute with horror. Then, as if awakening from a nightmare, all began questioning and exclaiming at once. A few began crying and since none could add any enlightenment to the King's stark news, Gynevra suggested they all adjourn to their private quarters and try to calm themselves. As they drifted away huddled in murmuring groups, three of the senior ladies approached Gynevra, among them Nudon, her raddled jowls quivering with shock.

‘I've never seen him like that,’ the old Queen said with wide worried eyes. ‘Perhaps you and Ugo should come to my quarters until he is calmer?’

Gynevra shook her head.

‘Thank you, Movuon, but I think it's the love of his family that'll help him deal with this great anger. He's not angry with us, after all.’

‘No, but you're cili and his decree could be just as much for you as for anyone.’

Gynevra paused to draw in a steadying breath.

‘True,’ she replied heavily, ‘but I hear what he says and understand what he's thinking. All that's to be gained from spreading stories of such dreams or visions is mass panic, the results of which are inconceivable.’

‘The Queen's right,’ agreed Lady Bancina, Madrona of the Queen's Court. ‘Can we do anything to help you, Great Lady?’

‘Pray,’ Gynevra responded simply. ‘Pray to the Gods for mercy and speak only of positive things wherever we are.’

‘He could've told us more of what happened,’ fretted Nudon, wringing her hands. ‘One can only presume he meant everyone in Rege committed suicide. How, for goodness sake? A whole village! I mean—children?—babies?—’

‘Calm yourself, Movuon,’ Gynevra said gently. ‘I think you can be sure that's exactly what he meant. We'll know the details all too soon. Everyone will be talking of it. I suggest you ask your Lini to make you a tisane of valyrian?’

‘Aye, that's good advice,’ said Lady Bancina leading her away. ‘Let's hope tomorrow brings brighter news.’

When Taur returned to their quarters the sun had sunk beyond the western forests laying deep shadows across the water. Nudon had taken Ugo for his bath. Gynevra, seated before the crystal window watching the last of the light leave the surface of the harbor, waited for the first star to appear in the sky. Tonight the stillness was crystalline. There was no build-up of cloud or excessive heat and she offered thanks to the Gods that it was so.

In her mind she replayed the details of the dream she'd had that morning after Taur left for Dawn Ritual. She'd been aboard a ship returning from Khemu to Atlantis. She'd never been to Khemu but such things didn't seem to matter in dreams. The ship had been many days at sea and they should've been long home. All food had been consumed and there was no sign of land. Sailing and searching, all they found was a vast and endless ocean and a few places where the surface of the water seemed muddy. Of the once great land of Atlantis there was no sign. Starvation was imminent for all aboard the ship. The panic of the thought had woken her.

Accepting she could share the dream with no one, least of all Taur, she struggled to banish the heaviness of it from her mind. His hands settled on her shoulders. She jumped a little, then settled to the gentleness she felt emanating from him.

‘Gyn’a, I meant what I said. There must be no more spreading of such stories. I have to make people see that.’

‘You frightened some of the ladies; you were so fierce and angry. Lady Nerina in particular.’

‘Then she probably needed to hear what I said more than anyone else! She's a niece of that crazy old cili Linda, who without moving out of her bed in the glodad, single-handedly murdered every villager in Rege. She won't talk of another dream she has, that's for sure!’

Dread rippled down her back like icy fingers. Gynevra started out of the chair and turned to stare at him, horror stealing the color from her cheeks.

‘What did you do?’ she cried.

As a wave recedes from the shore, all fury flowed out of Taur. He gazed at his woman, hair a dark golden fall of curls about her shoulders, body burgeoning with the child he'd seeded in her belly, emerald stud in her lip quivering, and eyes like great stones of golden topaz in firelight. She became more beautiful, more precious every time he beheld her.

‘Not what you're thinking,’ he reassured gruffly, drawing her into his arms. ‘But I left her in no doubt I would if she spread such stories again.’

Gripping his arms for support, Gynevra sagged against him in relief.

‘She's probably too scared to dream let alone speak,’ she muttered. ‘Tell me about Rege. What happened?’

‘They were all gathered at the shrine to the Gods in the center of the village, sitting or lying in families. They'd feasted greatly, consumed all the food. In every house the store cupboards were bare. They must've filled the Sacred Light bowl to the very brim. It was still burning when folk from the neighboring village found them. I'd say they'd laced food or drink or both with copious amounts of londonum or some other drug, knowing that when they slept they'd never waken. Every child from the village House of Children and even tiny babies, lay stiff and cold in their parent's arms.’

Shuddering, Taur set Gynevra back in the chair and began pacing.

‘Word was brought to me at Zedanil first thing. Everyone knows where to find me at sunrise. I sent for a detachment of warriors to meet me on the outskirts of the city. I thought to keep it quiet but only an idiot could've believed that possible.’ His face was dark with self-derision as he paced, then he swung about and sitting on the wide window-ledge facing Gynevra, demanded, ‘What I'd like to know is what do you threaten people with to stop them taking their lives?’

Gynevra said nothing, knowing he'd asked the question more of himself than her.

‘Nothing. Absolutely nothing!’ he growled and leapt up to resume pacing again. ‘There's not a thing you can threaten a man with if he's decided to end his life. Let any who complain of my decree today go and build the pyre for the next lot!’

For a time both were silent, gazing out at the darkening harbor.

The slap of Pog's fiadi heralded his arrival.

‘Is Master-Sire dining tonight?’ he asked, standing before Taur, gazing up at him quizzically.

Taur stared back at the little man, his eyes glazed and far away. With a heavy sigh he dragged his thoughts back to the present.

‘I guess I must. We're hosting the learned maluti and piaca of the Nyaldan Central Library tonight.’ He turned to Gynevra. ‘You look tired, alara. Shall I make your excuses?’

He slid off the wall and lifted her hand into his, twisting his ring about her finger. Gynevra shook her head and placing both her hands in his, used his strength to lever herself out of the chair. With only a triton to go before the baby was due, she was becoming ungainly.

‘Let us go and bathe,’ she murmured. They both knew the people looked to them to remain strong and composed in the face of any disaster.

The day Electra was born it snowed. Winter had scarcely begun yet the day dawned with the heavy stillness none could mistake. Gynevra had gone into labor during the early hours of the morning and Lady Rimona, the Temple midwife, who'd been sleeping in the Castle for the last tonn, was called from her bed. She'd not argued with the King's presence this time and he'd not needed to be told his role.

He sat by Gynevra, talked to distract her from the pain, and gave her his hands to hold when the contractions became too strong to bear. The birth was longer than Ugo's but easier on the Queen for all that, so averred the Priestess Rimona.

While she cleaned the baby, Difleer bathed her mistress. Taur crossed to the window to stare out over harbor and city, his heart full with the joy of having held the tiny scrap of femininity he and his Golden One had created. A soft flake of snow drifted against the window and flattened there, a fragile and exquisite crystalline starburst. For a moment he stared at it, comparing its perfection to the miraculous little being whose birth he'd just witnessed. Then he realized its portent.

‘It's snowing!’ he said, turning back to Gynevra. ‘Cronos! Just when people were settling, it snows. Last year there was no snow. This year it's snowing a month or more earlier than usual.’

Gynevra stared up at him, eyes wide and face pale. Taur dropped back onto the bed at her side. Taking her hand in his, he said heartily, ‘We didn't get it last year so I suppose we can expect double for this one. Early snow means a hard winter but that's all right,’ he soothed her, ‘we're ready for it. The fodder and fuel stores are full throughout the city. It'll be hard but we've survived many hard winters.’

Lady Rimona brought the baby back and placed her in Taur's arms then helped Gynevra to sit up.

‘What will you call her?’ she asked, transferring the babe from father to mother and helping her find the breast.

‘Electra,’ Taur and Gynevra said together, then smiled at one another. In this they were in deep agreement. Gynevra's great-grandmother had been a strong character and an immense power for good throughout the country. What greater role model could they offer their daughter?

It was, as Taur had said it would be, a long bitter winter. People only stirred outdoors for essential chores or tobogganing parties and skating on the ponds on the few days when a thin winter sun shone through. One could look out over the city and see scarcely a sign of life, just the pure blinding white of fresh snow.

Taur rarely left the Castle during these days except to attend Dawn Ritual at Zedalin and this he did by apportation. Winter was traditionally a much quieter time at Court but this one was so bitter he ordered his people not to leave their homes unless it was essential. Even a big strong man could get caught in some of the huge snow-drifts and freeze to death in no time at all.

Most afternoons were spent in the privacy of their own quarters with the children. Nudon was often with them along with some other close friends. Archinus Loganda and Magus Dogon, Lady Cielcif, Lord Geran, Taur's rabon who was never far from his side, General Palian who'd replaced old Umen who'd emigrated on the Khemu ship, and his sacred partner, Lady Dorina. Difleer, Foab, and Pog, were usually the only servitor's present and were treated more as members of family than was usual for their status.

Then there were days when there were just the four of them like an ordinary family. Those times were precious indeed. Many an afternoon, Ugo, exhausted from romping all morning with Boal and Jonda, would fall asleep on his parents big bed, his mother on one side of him, his father on the other usually with the baby lying on his chest. As often as not, Qerlim would be stretched across the bottom of the bed at their feet.

Gynevra would lie high on her clagren savoring the joy of it. She never ceased to delight in watching her Warrior King with their children. There was something especially precious in the way his huge hands, hardened and calloused from years of training with sword and battle-axe, curved protectively around the tiny body of their daughter and how the dainty feminine baby lay so trustingly on his huge chest.

It was during this time Gynevra admitted in her heart she couldn't willingly walk away from this life, this love, this man and their children. Frequently in talks with Dogon she'd seek his assurance that it wasn't wrong to want this happiness for herself. He gave it freely and Loganda supported him. Both were adamant the Gods wouldn't lay such a burden on any one pair of shoulders.

One afternoon a few days after the cessation of her second monthly cycle since Electra's birth, Gynevra lay watching Taur sleep with their daughter on his chest and Ugo, chubby fist clutching the small wooden sword Boal and Jonda had made him, curled into his side. She marveled at the changes fatherhood and the deep acceptance of his kingly responsibilities had wrought in him. Where once the accusation of being a clod would've urged him into a flurry of overt sexual activity to prove otherwise, now he simply regarded his accusers with a wise and secretive smile more convincing than initiating a multitude of virgins on the altar at once.

The truly amazing thing was the change he'd wrought in his people. From the day of their Joining when he'd exhorted them, especially the Paggi ruling class, to allow the energy of love back into their lives, there'd been a subtle change in the attitudes of society. Admittedly, many who couldn't accept or bend to the new ideas in any way had left, but among those many more who remained there was less emphasis on personal power and virility and more on family and community caring. Nyalda felt a happier place for it.