‘Why Lirah?’
‘Who knows why Lirah? Back in the days it was safe to travel between the godshouse and palace, we would all venture out to a vineyard across the bridge or down to the base of the gravina. De Lancey and I were scathing of Gargarin’s choice of her. It was our jealousy, of course.’
‘You were jealous that Gargarin had Lirah?’ Froi asked with disbelief.
‘No. We were jealous that Lirah had Gargarin. Cold, cold Lirah, who was bitter towards all men, loved my brother with all her heart. It made me hate her even more, because I knew this union was not one of the flesh. She hated the touch of men. He barely tolerated the touch of anyone. I couldn’t bear the idea of him loving someone as much as he loved me.’
Froi could never have imagined that Gargarin, Lirah and Arjuro had such a fierce capacity to love.
‘They waited eight years to release him. The Provincari warned the King that as long as the last Priestling of the godshouse was kept captive, the curse would hold and the kingdom would stay barren. So they released the man they believed to be Arjuro of Abroi ten years ago. The King feared the gods then more than ever.’
Before Froi could question why, Arjuro said the word.
‘Lumatere.’
Froi flinched to hear it. He could only imagine that the King was full of fear because he had sent the impostor King and his soldiers to Lumatere and they had been trapped for three years by Lumatere’s curse.
‘What did the palace think happened to Gargarin all those years ago?’
‘That he deserted his king on the night of the lastborns out of his own fear and shame at his brother’s betrayal of the palace. Gargarin was considered a traitor for years, you know, and there was a bounty on his head. And now he has returned with a plan to save the kingdom to remind the King of how brilliant he is.’
‘Not quite,’ Froi said. ‘I think your brother has plans to kill the King.’
Arjuro shook his head. ‘Madness,’ he muttered. ‘Madness.’
And there it was. Despite everything the Priestling had witnessed, he still cared for a brother capable of such treacherous acts.
‘Where did you hide all those years?’ Froi asked.
Arjuro looked away, perhaps from shame of his betrayal or the horror of memory.
‘You don’t want to know that, lad,’ the Priestling said hoarsely.
‘Yes, I do.’
Arjuro shook his head. ‘Get out of the Citavita, Olivier of Sebastabol. Take your cruel face and your questions with you and leave me to the misery of this cursed existence.’
Chapter 17
Lucian called together the Monts in the meeting place of Yata’s house. It was once the home he grew up in with his father, but three years past he had decided it was best for Yata and her sisters to live there and for him to find a smaller cottage.
He hadn’t called many meetings in his time as leader, but he had spent too many sleepless nights thinking of what Kasabian had told him by the stream and he knew it was time to speak to the lads and their families.
‘So now the valley is theirs,’ his cousin’s wife Alda snapped. ‘That is all it takes. They arrive on our doorstep, and we allow them to restrict our lads from entering land that rightfully belongs to us.’
There were sounds of disgust around the room and Lucian tried to make eye contact with anyone who might take his side. Perhaps his cousin Yael or his neighbour Raskin.
‘They damaged much-needed produce, Alda,’ Lucian said with patience. ‘They pissed in the stream in front of the women.’
Some of the Monts laughed. Alda stood. Now she had an audience and Lucian knew he was in trouble.
‘And you’re telling me,’ she said, looking around for support, ‘that you never once crossed the river from Osteria to Charyn in the ten years we were up in those hills? That you never once destroyed Charynite property or relieved yourself in the river.’
Lucian sighed. ‘That was different.’
There was a chorus of disapproval at his words.
‘How different?’ Alda yelled. ‘How were you different from our lads?’
He thought a moment. ‘Different in the sense that our Charyn neighbours in the hills of Osteria were part of their army. But our Charyn neighbours now are exiles themselves. Can I remind everyone that we took that hill in Osteria without the permission of the Osterians, yet they allowed us to stay?’
‘How dare you compare,’ Alda shouted.
‘Lucian, our people were in exile!’ Miro, his father’s dearest friend said. ‘These people aren’t.’
‘And may I also add that our lads were not interested in the valley until the Charynites moved there,’ Lucian said.
‘You started this,’ Alda said. ‘By going to Alonso and returning wed to that idiot Charynite girl. A disgrace to the memory of your mother, Lucian. A disgrace and it’s made us the laughing stock of the kingdom. The wife Lucian sent back,’ she mimicked. ‘Do you hear them mocking Lord August of the Flatlands or the elders of the rock village in such a way?’
Lucian clenched his fists with rage.
‘The pact was made between my father and hers and I honoured it in my father’s memory,’ he said, fury lacing his words.
‘Says who?’ his cousin Gwendie called. ‘Who heard of this pact except for the girl’s father? You’re gullible, Lucian. And weak, and you believe anything the enemy says. Shame on you.’
‘Shame,’ the others shouted.
‘Your father died at the hands of a Charynite,’ Alda hissed. ‘Shame on you.’
She walked out with her sons in tow.
‘Give him a chance,’ Yael called out. He was Jory’s father and regardless of what was said tonight, Lucian knew Jory would have his ears boxed by both his ma and fa when he got home.
‘We’ve given him enough chances,’ Pitts the cobbler said. ‘What has he done to keep the enemy from the foot of our mountain? Nothing! He can’t even find the culprit behind Orly’s bull going missing every night. How hard is that, Lucian? It’s a bull with more brains than you have.’
Lucian’s eyes met Yata’s and he saw pain there. Please don’t be disappointed, Yata. Please, he begged silently.
He swallowed hard. ‘I stand by what I say. I don’t care what you think of them. I didn’t think I cared what I thought of them. I still don’t. But I care what I think of us and when one of their men gave me a lesson on how they would like their women treated … well, it shamed me. And it made me realise that I did care and that Saro would be horrified,’ his eyes met Jory’s, ‘and disappointed that our lads would treat the women of any kingdom in such a way. You may say shame on me for believing what the enemy says, but I say shame on all of us if we condone the behaviour of our lads.’
There was silence a moment.
‘The lads do not enter the valley,’ he said firmly. ‘And if any of you have issue with my ruling, I will send a message to beloved Isaboe and have this mountain put on curfew.’
He pushed past the crowd and left the courtyard.
Phaedra of Alonso sat by the stream that evening and wrote a letter to Lady Beatriss of the Flatlands. It had been a week since a horse and cart arrived from the village of Sennington with a letter and a gift.
Phaedra had read the letter to Kasabian and Cora as they studied the object at the back of the cart.
‘What does it all mean?’ Kasabian asked.
‘Well, here in her letter, Lady Beatriss writes that she used to cook for her village, but she no longer needs it and I should put it to good use.’
It was an oversized clay pot, which took three men to remove from the cart and place on the ground.
‘There,’ she said, pointing where a campfire was set up beside the stream.