Mercy's Prince (15 page)

The
page inclined his head.

“Wait
here, please.” Then he shut the door.

Caelis
fumed while he waited. It was infuriating that a boy should be allowed to give
orders to him. Finally the door opened again.

“His
Majesty will see you now.” The page admitted Caelis and bowed. “Please, be
seated.”

Caelis
sat on an embroidered chair. When Orland didn’t appear immediately, Caelis got
up and paced across the thick carpet of the sitting room. In just a few minutes
the king entered the room, still wearing his royal tunic.

“Good
evening, Sir Caelis. There is nothing amiss, I trust?”

Caelis
bowed and pasted a courtier’s smile on his face.

“Good
evening, Your Majesty. All is well. I have a small request.”

Orland
sat in his overstuffed chair and gestured for Caelis to sit across from him.

“What
is it, Sir Caelis?”

“Sire,
my men are restless with no news about the Horde. I would like to take them
south for field maneuvers and as an opportunity to visit my uncle Reed for the
winter feast, with your permission, of course.”
And coincidentally,
traveling south gives me an opportunity to keep a close watch on your son
.

The
king stroked his beard, studying Caelis.

“What
about your project with Master Murray? The new kind of bow you mentioned
before?”

“Murray
has replicated several of them, and I and my men wish to test them in the field
while we are away.”

“Do
you have provisions enough for all your men? I want no incidents with farmers
or villagers along the way.”

“Oh
no, Your Majesty, there will be no incidents.” Caelis smiled. “We will take
basic rations and supplement with the abundant game in the Southern Woodlands.
That is how we plan to test the new bows.”

King
Orland stood, so Caelis had to stand as well.

“It
appears you have thought of everything, Sir Caelis. Therefore I grant you
permission to take your men south for the winter. My only stipulation is that
you return to the Keep before spring thaw. I fully expect the Horde to return
at that time.”

Caelis
bowed low and carefully hid the smirk that crept to his lips.

“Thank
you, Your Majesty. We will leave in a day or two, as soon as we ready our
supplies.”

Orland
dismissed him with a wave of the hand. “Good night to you, Sir Caelis, and safe
journey.”

Caelis
backed toward the door and left the room, well satisfied.

Mercy
awakened to Rafael’s gentle shaking.

“Sissy,
wake up,” he whispered. “Today is winter feast.”

She
sat up on her pallet, remembering Gabriel’s admiration of the past evening.
Then she also remembered Papa’s anger. For Rafael’s sake, she tried to smile.
When Mercy glanced at the place where Papa usually slept, his pallet was empty.
She frowned.

“Shall
we break our fast and get ready for the feast?” She unclasped her hair and
undid the braid in order to comb it.

“Yes,
Sissy!” Rafael scampered to the pot of cold porridge hanging over the ashes of
yesterday’s fire. “I’ll take out the ashes.”

“Thank
you, love.” While Rafael carefully scraped the ashes into a bucket, Mercy spent
more time than usual making herself presentable. After all, Gabriel had
returned, and she wanted to look her best.

Mercy
dreaded facing Papa again. She rehearsed words to turn away his unkindness,
hoping she might calm his anger as cool water puts out a fire. Once Rafael had
taken the bucket of ashes to the pile, she started the fire and added a little
water to the porridge, stirring it. Rafael climbed on one of the stools at the
table.

“Sissy?”

“Yes,
love?”

“Will
Papa eat with us?”

“I
don’t know, Rafael. We’ll have to wait and see.”

But
by the time the porridge was warmed and they had eaten, Papa had not returned.
Mercy had just wiped out her bowl when someone knocked at the door.

“I’ll
answer it,” Rafael said as he opened the door. “Sissy, it’s Michael.”

Mercy
rushed to the door to greet her cousin, but the grim set of his mouth stopped
her. He had aged years since she’d last seen him. Had his experiences damaged
his soul as well as Papa’s?

“I
am so glad you have returned, cousin.” She wanted to cry at the hardness in his
eyes. Michael’s eyes used to sparkle with mischief and joy.

“There’s
someone at the gate looking for Mercy the Healer,” he said. “Do they mean you?”

Mercy
hesitated, not sure what she should tell him.

“Much
has happened while you were gone.”

“Obviously.”

She
picked up her carry sack and beckoned to Rafael.

“Why
do you need him?”

“He
is my assistant.” Mercy clasped Rafael’s hand.

Michael
frowned but said no more, to her relief. He did walk with them back to the
gate. There was so much Mercy wanted to ask him, but something had come between
them, something more than her betrothal to Gabriel. Her cousin was a stranger
to her now.

Sitting
just inside the gate, an old woman held her side in obvious pain.

“You
are the Healer?” Her voice was strained.

“Yes,
Madam.” Mercy knelt down beside the woman. “How long have you been in pain?”

Before
the woman could answer, Papa’s voice made Mercy jump.

“What
is going on here?”

Mercy
stood and faced her father.

“I
was about to examine her. I’m a Healer now, Papa.”

“When
did this happen?” The wild fury in his eyes made Mercy want to back away, but
she held her ground. She had to make him understand.

“I
wanted to tell you last night, but you left, and then you weren’t in the
cottage this morning. The gift came to me while I was helping Faith in
childbirth.”

Instead
of the understanding and rejoicing she expected he would feel, he glared at
her.

“I
have never heard of a woman receiving the gift of Healing. You must be
mistaken.”

“It’s
true, Papa. I have many witnesses.”

“Whether
you are a Healer or no, I forbid you to assist any outsiders.” He grabbed her
arm and jerked her away. The old woman moaned and fell forward.

“Sissy!”
Rafael stared at the woman in horror. She was vomiting blood.

“Papa!
You must let me help her!” Mercy struggled against her father’s grip on her
arm.

“No.
Let her die.” He lifted his other hand to strike her.

But
Mercy lifted her face to him, staring boldly into his eyes. Fear and anger
warred within her, and he must have seen it in her face. He lowered his hand
without striking her, but he pulled her toward their cottage without a word.

“Papa!
We can’t let her die, not when we can help her. Isn’t that what the gift is
for?”

“No.
Not for outsiders. Why should we help them when they want to destroy us?” He
opened the door of the cottage and pushed her inside. “Do not leave until I
give you permission.”

“But
Papa!” She jumped back when he slammed the door.

This
was too much! Papa acted as if he were possessed by demons. Mercy waited for a
few heartbeats and then opened the door. There was no sign of her father, so she
ran back to the gate.

No
one had moved. Michael and Rafael stood where she’d left them, and the woman
still lay on the ground, the puddle of blood soaking into the dirt. Mercy
turned her to one side and checked her pulse. She could find none in her neck,
so she placed her hand on the woman’s chest. Her heart had stopped beating.

“No!”
Mercy rocked back on her heels. If Papa had not interfered, or if he had only
helped her, they could have saved this woman.

“Sissy?”
Rafael took a step closer.

Mercy
shook her head.

“She’s
dead, love. It wasn’t your fault.”

“No.”
Rafael’s voice was choked. “It was Papa’s fault.”

Mercy
hugged him fiercely.

“Don’t
say that, Rafael. It may be that even with Papa’s help she would have died.”
But she didn’t really believe that.

“What
do we do with the body?” Michael squatted beside the woman. “We can’t just
leave it lying here.”

“I
don’t know.” Mercy fought back tears. “Did she tell you her name or where she
came from?”

“No,
and I didn’t ask. I suppose we’ll just have to bury her.” When Michael lifted
his gaze to Mercy, his eyes softened. “It’s not your fault, Mercy. I’ll find
someone to help me. You’d best get home before your father sees you.”

“Thank
you, cousin.” Mercy took Rafael back to the cottage.

Once
inside they sat together on her pallet. Neither had a need for words. But Mercy’s
thoughts would not be still, no matter how hard she tried. She didn’t
understand how Papa could be so cruel. What would Gabriel do when he found out?

After
many silent prayers for patience and for Papa’s bitterness to be healed, Mercy
discovered Rafael had fallen asleep with his head resting against her thigh.
Reluctant to wake him, she stayed where she was, even though her legs began to
cramp. That reminded her of the stocks in which the men had been locked while
in the dungeon, and she began to cry for the cruelty of the outsiders who had
corrupted her father’s heart. These last few months had been a loss of
innocence for all of the Brethren.

The
sun’s rays slanting through the window let Mercy know the passing of time.
Perhaps the feast would help Rafael forget for a little while the bad things he’d
seen this morning. He opened his eyes and sat up.

“Sissy?
Did we miss the feast?”

“No,
love. But it will be starting soon. We should collect our sweet bread and take
it to the square.”

After
using the necessary, Rafael allowed Mercy to rebraid his hair. She loved to
comb its silky softness with her fingers. As she tied the end with a strip of
cloth, she imagined what he would look like when he received his own hair clasp
someday at the Oath Taking. Three years had passed since she’d taken the Oath.
Soon, on her fifteenth birthday, she would become Gabriel’s wife. She wished
they could marry today so she wouldn’t have to stay with Papa.

The
afternoon was pleasantly cool. By the time Mercy and Rafael approached the
village square, a bonfire blazed in the fire pit. Tables were set up, and
Rafael proudly added their sweet bread to the growing piles of food. Then he
ran to join Dilly and Samuel and the other children in their games. Mercy
longed to follow him. So far she had not seen Papa.

She
found Aunt Prudence, who had put herself in charge of the food.

“Is
there anything else that needs doing, aunt?”

“No,
Mercy. We’ve taken care of it. What took you so long?”

Mercy
lowered her gaze so her aunt would not notice her tears.

“I’m
sorry. I was delayed.”

Prudence
turned away and fussed with the arrangements of food on the tables. Before
Mercy could decide what to do, Gabriel appeared at her side. He gently took her
arm and guided her away from prying ears.

“Are
you all right? What has happened?”

Mercy
shook her head, afraid to speak lest she lose control of herself.

Gabriel
led her to a bench at the edge of the square. He gestured for her to sit and
then sat beside her.

“Don’t
keep this to yourself. I need to know whether or not your father has
overstepped his bounds, for his sake as well as yours.”

Haltingly,
Mercy told him every detail of the morning’s incident. She didn’t want to sound
disrespectful, but there was no way to soften her father’s raw anger and
hatred.

She
gazed up into Gabriel’s eyes and he
Saw
her thoughts. For the first time
she did not fear that intimate baring of her soul; in fact, she welcomed it. He
was someone she knew she could trust.

Without
understanding how she did it, Mercy opened herself to Gabriel, inviting him to
share in her grief over Papa, her concern for the effects of Papa’s anger on
Rafael, and her worry about balancing everyone’s needs with her own. What she
did not expect was the flash of desire that passed between them, and she stood,
breaking their new rapport.

“Oh,”
she said, her voice choked by this unexpected yearning for intimacy. “Please,
forgive me.” She shut her eyes, not daring to look at him.

But
Gabriel slowly stood before her and lifted her chin with a gentle hand. She
risked another glance at him. There was kindness and understanding and a
reflection of her own longing. Mercy stared at the smile on his lips and
wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

“I
am thankful,” he said in a quiet voice, “that you do not fear me, my sister, my
almost-bride. I had worried that you would see me as too old and too familiar.”

Mercy
cleared her throat.

“I’m
glad I have known you since I was a child. You are already part of my life. Now
I can share all of myself with you.” Her face grew warm. “Well, in a short
time, that is.”

His
smile broadened, and the lines around his eyes that used to make him look stern
now crinkled with joy. In that moment, Mercy forgot all her sorrow and the
burdens of responsibility. She realized gratefully they could share those
burdens. She need never bear them alone again! And she was determined to
support and comfort him in his work as the spiritual leader of the village.
Gabriel took her hand and kissed it.

“I
shall endeavor to be worthy of this great gift you have given me, Sister
Mercy.” His smile became tinged with sadness. “I would prefer to spend the
evening at your side, but it appears I must spend it with your father instead.”

“I
hope he will listen to you.” She savored the warmth of his touch. “Will you
come and eat with us tomorrow?”

“Of
course. I will come every day and stay as long as possible.”

They
stood gazing at one another, each reluctant to part from the other. At last,
Gabriel released her hand.

“Until
tomorrow then?”

Mercy
nodded, smiling. As she watched him depart, she sighed happily. Perhaps she
didn’t yet love Gabriel the way Serene had described, but she knew with all of
her being that someday she would.

***

The
red light of the rising sun reflected off the walls of the Keep and illuminated
the deserted castle yard. Valerian was glad King Orland did not call attention
to their leave-taking. He was self-conscious enough wearing the royal surcoat
when all his men wore plain leathers. Valerian’s warhorse pranced across the
yard as if he realized the import of this journey, and Conrad solemnly handed
Theo’s reins to Valerian.

The
young man known as “Hawk” led the scouting party out the castle gates, carrying
the royal dragon pennon on his spear. Behind him rode Sir Gregory and Terron
his squire, followed by Valerian and Kieran and the rest of the men. They made
their way through the sleepy town and onto the eastern road. The Dragon’s
Backbone loomed to the south, and an eagle glided high above in the clear sky.
All was well for the first hour. Then a grouse startled from the brush,
spooking Theo, and the warhorse shied off the road. His right front foot
stepped in a burrow and he stumbled painfully, nearly pitching Valerian off.