Authors: Jo Walton
Tags: #Thirteenth century, #General, #Science Fiction, #Historical, #Women soldiers, #Fiction
She was sitting before it in one of the red padded chairs. For a moment I thought we had been in time. Her eyes were open and she seemed to see us. She was wearing a red linen overdress fastened at the neck with
her gold-and-pearl brooch. She had let her white hair down to straggle loose about her face. I could not remember the last time I had seen her with her hair disarranged. She had shorn it for Galba, not let it straggle. Seeing it like that set off deep feelings of uneasiness; it was almost frightening. I took a breath and walked into the room toward her.
"Aurien?" I said. She had her pebble around her neck on a cord, as usual. There was a beaker in her hand.
She neither moved nor spoke. I froze, halfway across the room. Raul came past me and went up to her. He put his hand to her neck to check if her blood was still moving. As he did so her hand opened and the beaker fell to the floor and split in two. A few drops spilled out onto the woven carpet. Raul began murmuring prayers over her. I picked up the bits of the beaker and sniffed at them. Henbane.
Raul came to a break in his prayers. "Too late," I said in a hushed voice.
"Oh no," he said, turning to me. "She is poisoned, paralyzed by the poison, but alive."
I looked at her in horror, remembering how I had felt when the poison had hold of me, how I had been able to see and hear but not respond. She could live for years unable to move. Conal had said so and he knew about poison. She could not stand trial like this. I thought about the boys. I glanced at Raul. I knew followers of the
White God thought suicide a terrible sin, denying all chance of the world they believed was to come. I almost wondered that she had been so Vincan in the end. I felt sure Raul would not let me put a cushion on her face to end it for her kindly. I wondered how much he knew about poisons. He wouldn't have had much chance to learn at Thansethan.
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"We must give her water," I said, surprised to hear my voice come out evenly. "We may be able to wash it out of her system." Raul looked at me quickly, then agreed quietly. As I left the room he was praying over her.
I ran downstairs, snatched up a beaker, and ran out of the back of the hall to fetch water from the well. I
wound the handle as fast as I could, slopping it everywhere. I poured it from the bucket to the beaker, not worrying how much I spilled. I had taken two steps across the yard back toward the hall when I smelled the henbane in it. I stopped dead. She had poisoned the well. Or, to be fair to her, someone had. I could not believe Aurien would have done it without telling the boys to be careful, and they would have told Urdo. I wondered briefly where henbane came from and how expensive it was. I didn't know if it would take a lot or only a little to poison a whole well. Conal would have known. Maybe I could ask Emer.
I turned back to the well and started to laugh. I had come to get water to poison my sister, and found poison in the well. Yet I could not take her a cup of poison, whatever my intentions and however much she had done the same for me. I emptied all the water I had drawn back into the well and set the beaker down on the rim.
Then I calmed myself and sang Garah's charm for water, naming the Mother as Coventina; as I had done in
Caer Lind when the wells were poisoned, as I had done on the top of Foreth Hill. There came a gurgle from the depths of the well. I could feel the charm working on the world, driving out the poison and setting the rising water as it should be. There would be a charm that drives poison out of people that way, if any god loved people as the Mother of Many Waters loves water. Then I drew up the bucket again, slowly this time, aware of the holiness of water and of all things. I filled the beaker carefully. I sniffed at it. It was good, clear water. I poured a little from it, carefully, then drank it, praising the Mother. I poured it full again, and turned toward the hall.
Again I stopped. How could I use this water, sacred as all water is sacred, to kill my sister? Yet killing her now was a kindness to everyone. I took another step toward the door. I raised the beaker toward the sky. I
would take it in. It would be the gods' choice what came of it. Death can also be a holy thing.
I hurried up through the hall and back to the tapestry-hung room. Raul broke off his prayer and turned as I
came in. "I think—" he began. Then Aurien choked a little and he turned back to her. It seemed to me that she was looking at me, and the expression in her eyes was hatred.
"I'm sorry I was so long, but the well was poisoned," I said.
I kept my eyes on Aurien's face, but detected no changes. I could not tell if she had known it or not. "Where did you get the water, then?" Raul asked.
"I cleansed the well," I said. "I have used the charm before. This is pure water. I drank some myself before I
brought it up. There might have been clean water in a jug but I couldn't leave it like that; anyone might have come along and drawn water."
He looked at me, surprised, then shook his head a little and put out his hand for the beaker. I gave it to him and he set the beaker to Aurien's lips. She opened them a little. She was staring at me and I could still not
make out the expression on her mouth. Raul stroked her throat and she swallowed. She kept on swallowing.
"Marchel must have poisoned the well," Raul said. "Aurien must have taken some of the water and drunk it without noticing." In that case, why had we hurried in here, I wondered. Also, the
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liquid in the broken beaker had been wine and not water. But Raul went on, "I am glad. If it was suicide she could never find her way to
God. This way she has her chance of forgiveness." He made the sign of the White God and touched his pebble to her forehead and lips.
I didn't say anything. The beaker was empty. Raul put it down. Aurien looked at me an instant in what appeared to be deep concern, and then she just stopped being there. Her head lolled back on her neck, her heart stopped pumping, and her breath stopped. I killed a dozen people on the field of battle that day, or more. In a way I killed all of them, by giving the orders I did, and most of them deserved it far less than Aurien. I have never felt any guilt for helping her find the death she wanted.
"Ah," Raul said. "I wondered if that would happen. It sometimes does, with henbane." We looked at each other for a moment. Then Raul began the prayers for the dead.
—8—
O Lord, give of thy Ever-Living Spirit to these people, that being now born again and made heirs of everlasting salvation through God Made Man they may continue to be thy servants and attain thy promises and dwell with thee in eternal glory, ever more praising thy glorious Name.
— From the Baptism of the White God, early translation as used at Thansethan When we came out, the courtyard was full of armigers and grooms watering their horses and walking them. It was only the two pennons we had come in with; the others had gone down to the river. All the same the courtyard seemed like Caer Tanaga at a fair. Gwien had given Evenstar half a bucket and was walking her. I
was relieved to see he had been able to stop her. Too much cold water can kill a hot horse. She was a very well-mannered mare but he was only thirteen.
I let Raul explain to Urdo his theory about the well poisoning. When he heard his mother was dead, little
Gwien flung himself weeping against Evenstar's leg. She gave one startled huff and swung her head around to nose at him, then stood patiently. Galbian just kept very still. He was young to have the whole weight of
Magor fall onto his shoulders. Urdo took the boys off into the hall. I looked enquiringly to see if he needed me, but he shook his head.
Once the horses were cool and watered I brought both alae inside the walls. I warned Dalmer that the other wells might also be poisoned and he went off to check the supply situation. I checked on the wounded and the dead. When I came back inside, I started settling disputes about how to assign billets. There was barely room for all of us inside the walls and definitely not going to be enough room for all the horses in the stables.
I spent a few minutes with Darien in the stables where he was settling his summerhorse, whose name, appropriately enough, was Barley. I left him and came out to a dispute between Golidan and Rigol about who had first claim on the barracks. Golidan was stalking off to set up tents and I was drawing breath when
Dalmer came up to me, looking furious.
"Where's Urdo?" he asked without preliminary as soon as the decurios had gone off. "The food has all been deliberately destroyed. Trampled by horses, thrown in the midden, or generally fouled. Some of the roots may be salvageable for the horses; it's hard to hurt a turnip, but that will take time. And if there's anything that will ever be fit for people to eat, that we didn't bring in ourselves, then it's well hidden."
"But they could have won!" I said, trying to take it in. "I'd assumed that someone poisoned the well at the last moment, but that must have taken time. What did they think they were doing?"
"I've no idea. I don't know if thinking came into it. But the waste of it! I could cry to see it. If I ever get my hands on Marchel, killing will be too good for her. Murdering prisoners and invading the country and destroying good food!"
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"That's why they said they didn't have enough for the Isar-nagans," I said, my mind catching up slowly.
"And we shall have to send something out to them as well," Dalmer said. "Celemon?
Hey, Celemon!"
Celemon ap Caius, who had been ap Erbin's quartermaster the last time I had seen her, had been unpacking supplies from packhorses. She set down a heavy pack and came over to us. "What have we brought we can feed four thousand Isamagans who are likely to destroy the countryside if we don't feed them?"
Celemon shrugged. "Porridge?" Dahner swatted at her with the wax tablet he was carrying. She dodged and pretended to cower, though she could have picked Dahner up in one hand if she'd wanted to.
"There are some cows on a farm a mile or so south of here," I said. "If you give them half a dozen cows they'll be so delighted they won't mind if they take half the night to cook and they'll get less food out of it than if they had porridge."
"I can see you have experience of Isarnagans," Celemon said to me. "I'm only used to feeding armigers and horses. I'm doing Glyn's job since he got to be king of Bregheda."
"I expect ap Erbin misses you," I said. "A good quartermaster is hard to find."
Celemon shrugged again. "We've been training people as well as we can. I am hoping to get back down to
Caer Segant eventually; my husband likes it there. But for now, will you give me a scout so I can find this farm and deal with the Isarnagans?"
I signaled to the nearest of my armigers to find me one of our scouts. "Shall you bring some cows back for us as well?" I asked.
"How many cows do they have?" Dalmer asked.
I shrugged. "I didn't count, I was too busy getting the troops away. More than a dozen. Fine, big beasts."
"That must be some farmer's whole livelihood," Dalmer said. "They might sell one or two for silver, but never the whole herd. It's terrible that we need to do this."
"Why do we?" Celemon asked. "We have what supplies we brought. I know harvest is due, but shouldn't there be enough?"
"Marchel destroyed it," Dalmer said, anger in every line of his body. "We'll have to feed the local people as well, most likely."
I looked away as he began to detail the destruction and saw Emer and ap Ranien standing just by the gate.
Emer looked as if she had every right to be there, but ap Ranien looked uneasy. As he caught my eye he said something to Emer.
"There are the Isarnagan leaders now," I said, interrupting Dalmer. "By the terms by which the gates were opened they should not come inside. Will you come and greet them with me?"
"I should speak to Urdo if I can," Dalmer said. "But you go, Celemon, you might be able to get an accurate count of their numbers from them."
I led Celemon over to the gate, where I made the introductions and everyone bowed low and very politely.
"We were just arranging to have some cows brought in for your victory feast," Celemon said.
Emer and ap Ranien exchanged glances. "There may be no need," ap Ranien said.
"We understand your people will want to celebrate—" I said. But I had misunderstood.
"Are we to stay in the stockade again tonight?" Emer asked.
"Yes," I said. "The people of the town are afraid of your troops."
"In that case we can easily set up roasting pits," Emer continued. "We have been clearing the field, and there are a great number of dead horses. Unless you have any need of them, they will
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suffice to feed our people."
My stomach heaved, and I bit my tongue to stop myself saying something offensive and undiplomatic. I
needn't have bothered.
"That's the next thing to cannibalism!" Celemon blurted. "Our greathorses are our battle-companions! They are honored dead and their bodies are treated with honor."
A memory came to me of Glyn's sober face over a well I had purified, long ago. "Come, Celemon," I said.
"Remember Caer Lind? We would have eaten our own horses there rather than starve, and they were still alive." I was as horrified as she was, but I had spent time with the Isarnagans and their barbarism could not horrify me as it would have once. I had even had to judge one case of horse-stealing where the motive had clearly been much the same as the thief would have had for stealing a cow.
"Besides, we weren't suggesting we eat your dead companions, just the horses of the enemy," ap Ranien put in quickly.