The Godspeaker Trilogy (71 page)

“Oh shut up, Helfred! Shut up all of you!” cried Rhian, and clapped her hands across her ears. “In Rollin’s name would you give me some peace !”

The voices fell silent, but she could still feel them gibbering at the edges of her mind. Still hear their echoes, teasing, tormenting.

I never want to see the councillors’ greedy faces again. Their eyes devour me. They don’t see me, they see their own advancement. I hate their dukes’ candidates for no better reason than these eager men praise them. And I hate Lord Rulf because he’d give me to Marlan. He’d give Ethrea to Marlan. I can’t let that happen. Papa, Papa. Help me not let that happen.

She sighed, easing herself on the thin kneeling-cushion beneath her. The only duke’s man she hadn’t seen, the only one she wanted to see, was Henrik Linfoi. But he had no reason to visit except to comfort her and perhaps give her advice. He’d never do it. No matter that duchy Linfoi was out of the running, it would be seen as interference by the other dukes. They’d not tolerate his opinion being given to Ethrea’s queen-in-waiting, and she wasn’t about to insist. It would only cause trouble for Alasdair and she didn’t want that.

I’ll be bringing him enough trouble as it is.

Eleven days in the clerica and she still hadn’t heard from Mr Jones. Her short time of grace was almost ended. If only she knew what he was planning. It was dreadful, to be so reliant on other people. To be so controlled by other people. By Marlan and by Helfred, his instrument. By the council, who cared little if anything for her happiness.

You never should have given me to them, Papa. Can I ever forgive you? You should’ve trusted me. I hate that you didn’t.

Such a risk she’d taken, trusting Dexterity Jones. Believing him. Thinking a mere toymaker might hold the key to her escape from this nightmare. But what other choice had there been? No-one else had rushed out of the shadows to save her.

Maybe he’s had second thoughts. Maybe he won’t come for me at all.

No . She mustn’t think like that. He’d come. He’d promised . He was a man of his word, and he never cheated a customer.

He won’t cheat me. I’m a prin—the Queen of Ethrea.

She was. She was . No matter what the council or Marlan said. She was.

Oh, God. I wish I was older. If you had to die, Papa, why couldn’t you have waited seven more months?

Soft footsteps sounded behind her. She opened her eyes, feeling every muscle seize with rage. Beyond the chapel’s stained-glass windows, with their pious little pictures of the martyred Rollin and earnest Kingseat venerables, night was freshly fallen. The devouts in residence were gathered in their meeting hall, exchanging news of the day’s doings in hushed, restrained voices. For this small time only she could be by herself, in a quiet place, with her thoughts and her fears and her prayers to a God she wasn’t sure was listening.

Wasn’t sure was there to listen.

“I told you, Helfred, I wish to be left alone !” she said without turning. “Must you plague me every minute of every hour? How many more times do I have to say it? I don’t want to marry Rulf and you can’t make me! I wouldn’t care if he was God’s former ward. Is that plain enough for you? Do you understand now ?”

“Perfectly, child,” said Dame Cecily’s cool voice. “But do you understand the penalty for blasphemy before the Flame?”

Rhian scrambled to her feet and turned, her face hot. “Dame Cecily! I thought—I’m sorry—I believed—”

“You spoke to your chaplain. I gathered that,” said the Dame. She was a tall, thin woman with hazel eyes and straight grey eyebrows. Her dark blue habit and intricate head-dress made her look even taller, even more lightly fleshed. There was about her the severity of winter, the purity of ice. She never smiled. At least, Rhian hadn’t seen it. She never raised her voice, either, but was seldom disobeyed.

She and the prolate were a match made in heaven.

“Dame Cecily …” It seemed prudent to kneel again, so she dropped once more to the inadequate cushion. “I didn’t mean to blaspheme. I—”

“Yes, you did,” said Dame Cecily and lowered her hand. “You wanted to shock Helfred, and discomfort him. You dislike your chaplain. You consider him an imposition and a nuisance. You very much wish to kick him down the stairs.”

Damn. The woman was a mind-reader. “Dame Cecily, I’m sorry. I—”

“Another lie,” said the dame. “Your second sin in a handful of minutes.”

Rhian gritted her teeth. “Forgive me. It’s been a trying day. That’s why I wanted time alone, Dame Cecily. I needed solitude, to order my thoughts and calm my heart.” Because otherwise I was going to do more than kick Helfred, I was going to kill him . “I really didn’t want to be disturbed.”

Dame Cecily considered her. “Yet here I am, disturbing you. Perhaps you’d like to kick me down the stairs instead?”

“Dame Cecily, I—”

“Peace, child. I’m teasing.” The dame indicated the nearest of the chapel’s plain wooden pews. “Be seated, Rhian. I would talk with you.”

Teasing? Since when did an icicle know how to tease ? But then, looking closer, Rhian thought she saw a hint of warmth in those cool hazel eyes. Perhaps even a touch of sympathy in their frosty, measured gaze.

Oh, no. Don’t be nice to me. If you’re nice to me I might start crying. I can’t afford to cry. I have to stay strong.

She got off her knees and sat in the pew. Dame Cecily sat beside her. “Child,” she said, “did you come here this evening to ask for God’s guidance or to instruct him on how to act in this matter?”

She opened her mouth to answer, reconsidered, then closed it again. After a moment, with her fingers linked in her lap, she sighed. “I suppose that makes three sins, Dame Cecily.”

Dame Cecily nodded. “If you were one of my devouts it would go hard with you, child. But you are a guest here and the future Queen of Ethrea, so I will overlook it. To a point. I draw the line at chaplains rolling down the stairs.”

“Of course, Dame Cecily,” she murmured. Then added, encouraged by the unexpected humanity, “It’s just—Helfred—he’s so infuriating .”

“Men frequently are. But God made them that way for his purpose and it’s not for us to complain, but endure.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m at the end of my endurance,” she retorted. “Ever since I got here, Dame Cecily, I’ve been plagued by men pretending to care for me when all they care about is winning the prize. I’m not a prize ! I’m their queen, it’s not fair that—”

“You were expecting life to be fair? How exceedingly foolish of you, child.”

Rhian stared at her gilded slippers. “Yes. I’m a fool. But fool or not I won’t be forced to the altar. I won’t be bullied into making a choice.”

“Are you saying Helfred bullies you?” asked Dame Cecily softly, into the silence.

Rhian lifted her gaze to the Living Flame, burning serenely on the chapel’s altar. “You know who he is, Dame Cecily. You know who he answers to.”

“I know a man cannot choose his relations.”

“No, but he can choose what he does and what he says! And if Helfred had any backbone he’d choose to mind his own business. But a snail’s got more backbone than Chaplain Helfred. Prolate Marlan is determined that I marry Lord Rulf. Helfred, the obedient nephew, harps on about him every day. He’s even quoting scripture to support the suit. It’s wrong, Dame Cecily. Prolate Marlan said he wouldn’t use his position to influence my choice.”

“You’ve not laid eyes on the prolate since you left Kingseat, child,” said Dame Cecily. She sounded reproving.

“No, but Helfred is Marlan’s mouthpiece. They may as well have the one tongue between them. I don’t need a chaplain while I’m here, I have you to guide me in spiritual matters. But the prolate refused to let me leave Helfred behind. My chaplain has one purpose only: to wear me down on his uncle’s behalf.”

Dame Cecily was frowning. “It disturbs me to hear you level such accusations.”

“I’m sorry!” said Rhian. “But this is your clerica. You should know what’s going on beneath your roof. Helfred is abusing his power as my chaplain on behalf of Prolate Marlan, who has plans to wed the Crown and the Church by wedding me to his former ward! He wants Church law and state law to be indivisible so he can become the supreme authority in the kingdom.”

“No, child, that can’t be,” said the dame. “Blessed Rollin himself makes it clear in Second Admonitions that the spheres of Church and state are not to be—”

Oh, God. Please, make her hear me. If she really is blind please open her eyes . “I don’t wish to be rude, but it doesn’t matter what Rollin says. Rollin is centuries dead and Marlan is prolate. He wants to join Church and state law throughout the land. He argued about it with the king many times. Papa always defeated him. But now with Papa dead he thinks to have his way through me.” She took in a deep, shuddering breath and lost the fight against emotion. “Well, he won’t, I tell you! I won’t betray my father or Ethrea like that. Not so Marlan can feed his greedy ambitions.”

Dame Cecily stood and stared down at her. “You are speaking of God’s supreme representative,” she said, her voice ice again. “Moderate your language and your tone or I will disregard your royal blood and punish you as I would any common sinner within these walls.”

Flinching, Rhian bowed her head. Stupid, stupid! How can you forget where you are? “Forgive me,” she whispered. “I’ve been overwhelmed. I never imagined we’d lose Ranald and Simon, and that I’d have to choose who’d be Ethrea’s king.”

“I know,” said Dame Cecily more kindly. “But this is what God has chosen for you, child. Therefore you must shoulder your Godgiven burden with courage and grace.”

Rhian looked up. Dame Cecily’s face swam before her, muddled through a prism of tears. “I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I’m strong enough.” Strong enough to run away. Strong enough to fight the battles that running away would bring. Strong enough to stand against Marlan, the council … against Alasdair, if he refused to do what had to be done for the good of the kingdom and its people.

“You have no choice, Rhian,” said Dame Cecily, relentless. “What you imagined your life would be does not matter. This is your life now. What can you do but live it, with God’s love to guide you through the years?”

She blinked and blinked until the dame’s face resolved itself. “Yes. I know. I’m sorry. I’m … tired.”

Dame Cecily nodded. “Then you must seek your bed, child. Prolate Marlan will be here in the morning.”

Marlan? God, no . She shifted on the pew, heart thudding painfully. “Why? I’ve three days yet before I have to decide. The council agreed to that, he can’t just come here and—”

“Of course he can come here. He is the prolate. This clerica is under his authority.”

“Under your authority,” she said daringly. “You’re its dame.”

Dame Cecily breathed in and breathed out. Her lips were pinched tight. “And like every dame of every clerica in the kingdom I am subordinate to the prolate’s will, after God. As you are subordinate to him, being a ward of the Church.” She stepped back. “The prolate will arrive shortly after Morning Litany. You will hold yourself in readiness and conduct yourself with the humility that befits a child of scant experience.”

Rhian stared after the dame as she swept from the chapel. Her heart still pounded like a runaway horse, her hands fisted so tightly her fingernails threatened to puncture her palms.

I’ll conduct myself as befits a queen of Ethrea, Dame Cecily. It’s what Papa would want of me … and what our people deserve.

H
ettie said briskly, “Come along now, my love. Time’s a-wasting and the princess needs you to rescue her.”

Dexterity looked around, at the meadow and the spring lambs flirting with the flowers. “I’m dreaming, aren’t I?”

Hettie nodded. She was dressed in yellow poplin, and the sweet breeze rippled the fabric about her legs. “I can’t always come to you in the world, Dex. Sometimes I can only reach you through dreams. What matters is that you listen to me and do what I say. Everything depends on it.”

The spring sunshine was gentle on his face. He looked down at himself and saw he was garbed in his favourite trousers and shirt. The last ones she’d made for him so long ago, that he’d kept together with mending and love. His feet were bare, the grass cool between his toes.

“Help me, Hettie. How am I to get Rhian out of the clerica? I’ve only got a plan to get in there and with luck pass her a message. But I might not even see her. What if—”

“I can’t tell you,” said Hettie, with regret. “So much depends on things I don’t control. You’ll find a way, my love. Father never wanted us to marry, remember? But you slipped under his guard and got his permission. You found the way then.” Her eyes were bright in the sunshine. “You’ll find it this time, I know.”

Her faith in him was like expensive wine in his veins. He felt light-headed and slightly drunk. “All right. Say I do rescue the princess. Then what?”

“Then you get on the road to duchy Linfoi and no matter what happens you don’t look back.”

The breeze smelled like freesias. He smiled at the scent. “And then?”

“And then things will unfold. Remember this and you won’t go wrong: Rhian is meant to be the true queen of Ethrea. To rule in her own right and defend her kingdom against harm. Especially from those who claim they have God’s authority to throw her down. But it won’t be easy. You must be brave and strong, Dex. You must prevail no matter the cost. And there will be a cost, my love. I can’t save you from that.”

Her words were dire. He should be afraid. But in this pleasant dreaming place it was hard to feel fear. Hard to feel anything but warm and safe. He wagged a finger at her.

“Hettie, sweetheart. You keep forgetting. I can’t fight for the princess, I’m a toymaker. All my soldiers are painted wood.”

“You have Zandakar.”

“Yes. About Zandakar …”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Dexie. I have to go. You’ve made a good start with him but you’ve further to travel along that road. Whatever happens don’t cast him aside. You’re going to need him, no matter how much he frightens you.” She raised her hand in a gesture of farewell. “You’ve black days ahead, Dexie. Turn to God when you’re feeling bleak. I’ll come again to you when I can.”