Torment - chapter 20

Dragonblade

    The hours that followed became a confusion of events as the town and castle were jolted awake by activities that erupted in every quarter. Sir Theodore was at the center of it all, delivering orders that were barked by Sir Ivon and carried by runners to every site of engagement. Riders to assist Jane. Guards to seal the town. Courtiers to escort the Princess to her chamber. Braziers lit on every battlement fire-post so Sir Theodore could command everything from atop the front gates.	
    No-one slept. There was too much to do, too much noise, and too much shared guilt. Everyone bore the twin burdens of grief and guilt. Grief, because Jester was loved by them all, from the lowest of the staff to the King and Queen. Guilt, because they all felt party to the circumstances of the accident. Everyone had, at some time, turned a blind eye to the activities of the Merchant. The man had worked them all through small favours and occasional coins. Why had they not spoken out before? If they had, Jester might not be setting off into the Summer Land to be with Arawn, king of Annwn.   
    Only Jane refused to be frozen by grief. She worked hard to secure Sir Theodore and Pepper to her cause, insisting that Jester was not lost to them, but hovering between worlds. Sir Theodore was gentle but firm on the matter.
    ‘Be that as it may, Jane, we will discuss it once your wounds have been dressed.’
    ‘My scratches can wait. Jester can’t! We have to decide for him now! I saw him, Sir Theodore. I did, truly I did. Not as I see the two of you, but his waking shadow rose up as I cradled him on the beach. He was an ethereal form, adrift in the moonlight. He looked lost and confused.’
    ‘And?’ 
    ‘I called him back to us.’ Jane stared them down, willing their support with an iron determination that neither Sir Theodore nor Pepper could resist, and so they lent their support when she sought permission to have Jester placed in the cold of the catacombs. The king and queen listened in silence, then granted permission.
    ‘We shall do as you ask until our druid returns,’ said the king.‘
    ‘Thank you, your Majesty,’ Jane’s relief was so intense she had to fight to stop her knees from buckling. ‘Can Rake and Pepper be spared to attend him? Not to bind him, but to dress his body with salves and oiled water in the custom of a fallen hero?’
It was the queen who supported Jane on this.  
    ‘Who am I to sluice cold water on your fiery determination? Perhaps your Celtic spirits are working through you, Jane. What do any of us know of death? In times past my countrymen would lie their fallen comrades in caves for days before performing our ceremony of departure. Tales of men stumbling out of the caves and back into our lives feature in all the great ballads. Perhaps Jester has unfinished work in this life.’
    ‘Well spoken,’ said Sir Theodore, ‘the druid taught him all the laws concerning the walk into the Summer Lands. Perhaps Jester stands hesitating on that path, awaiting his teacher’s permission to take those final steps.’
    ‘Or to return!’ said Jane.
    Then, as Pepper and Rake began their new duties, and the battlement fires grew faint in the light of a new morning, Jane set off on Dragon to speed the druid’s return.      
    Cathgin was easy to find. Excitement had been building as word of his journey home passed from settlement. He was still many days away by foot, but just a few hours by dragon flight.
    ‘Jane! What an appearance,’ the man looked much older now, though only seven years had passed since Jane had seen him.
    ‘How should I address you,’ asked Jane as she landed in his path. His small party of supporters scattered to watch the encounter from a safe distance.
    ‘Cathgin will do nicely, Jane. Magician and Druid are the cloth of politics. The man beneath is the same as ever.'
    ‘A discussion for later. I came here in urgency. Jester is on the road to the Summer Lands and I beseech you to call him back to us. I pin all my hopes on you and ask that you ride back with me on Dragon at all speed.’ The old druid didn’t hesitate. Within moments they were in the air and racing back to the castle.
    They landed in the training yard without ceremony or reception. Jane hurried the old mage to the chamber in the catacombs where Jester had been set down on a thick pallet of straw and wild flowers. Cathgin took one look at his pupil then issued a string of requests to Rake and Pepper for a range of oils and herbs. Then he paused and looked up at Jane.
    ‘As for you child, the remedy for you is clear enough. Sleep. Go now. I will call for you if his life force stirs or departs.’
    ‘I’ll stay.’
    ‘No. You will go to your chambers and sleep. If I can call him back you will need all your strength for what will follow. Go.’
    Jane clambered back up to the courtyard, waved Dragon away, and went to her room where she fell on her bed and gave herself up to her grief. Dragon watched over her from the window. He didn’t say anything, he just stood guard, keeping her free of intrusions. Twice, Jane’s mother and father approached her door, and twice Dragon put a claw to his lips, requesting their silence as he waved them away.
    Dragon only relented when Pepper came marching up the steps with a bag over one shoulder. He was sitting on the far side of the tower, his long neck draped like a scarf around the curved wall, his head resting on the flagstones between Pepper and Jane’s door. He tried to wave her away, but Pepper grabbed his claw and rebuked him.
    ‘Don’t wag that at me! I’m here to dress her wounds!,’ She stepped past him and pushed open the door. Jane was lying face down on her bed and didn’t react.
    ‘It’s only me Jane.’
    ‘Go back and tend to Jester,’ her voice was muffled by the bedding.
    ‘I will, once I’ve seen to you. Druid’s bidding, so no arguments.’
    ‘Later, come back later.’
    ‘For what? To wash your dead body? No thank you.’ She set her cloth bag on the bed. There were large splatters of blood, but no dark pool. Pepper took out a knife and cut away the torn clothes, unpicking each layer like skins from an onion until she could see injuries. Three long rakes from a wolf’s paw. The claws had ripped through the skin but Pepper could see only flesh. No muscle or bone. Pepper thanked the spirits and Jane’s outfit. Both the tunic and skirting were made from layers of woven leather.
    ‘You are not a pretty picture. That is the truth. But the mountain sprites chose you over those poor wolves today. You’ll mend, and the scars will be the verse of a bedtime ballad you can tell to some fortunate man one day.’ 
    She washed out the wounds with vinegar and applied a dressing of honey. Jane neither moved, nor spoke.
    ‘Now the front,’ said Pepper. Jane let herself be rolled over, but raised her hands to cover her face. Pepper understood. With guilt came shame, and shame was a private affair. She applied herself to her work. The claw rakes on Jane’s back extended round her side and across her ribs, but they stopped short of her stomach. Another blessing. A breach of the stomach was beyond any craft to put right.
    Pepper finished her work, bound the wounds with strips of clean linen and helped Jane into tight undergarments that would hold the dressings in place. 
    ‘Can I mix you a drink for the pain, a sleeping drought?’
    ‘No,’ Jane kept her hands to her face. ‘Please just go. I need to be alone.’ Pepper left without another word. Even in the midst of her tears, Jane knew what was happening to her. She had seen grief before, she had watched on helplessly when a farmer had lost his only son beneath a plough. She had been at the wharf when word had arrived of a storm at sea. She had waited as the families had gathered for news. She had watched as their worst fears were realised. Families stripped of loved ones and livelihoods in the same instant.
    So Jane let the turning knife of grief overtake her and wreak its cruel pain through every corner of her mind. 

    ‘Only Jane. I want to speak to her. She will know what has to be done. Jane always knows.’ In the Royal Apartments, Princess Lavinia was emerging from her own cocoon of grief. She had spent the night and morning shutting everyone out, screaming in abandon if anyone approached her or tried to offer comfort. The king and queen had remained in vigil, sitting on the far side of her room. The queen had left at sunrise to look to the needs of their son who seemed adrift in the wake of the tragedy. The king had remained at their daughter’s side. He was watching her now as she struggled to climb free of her tantrum.
    ‘My dear child...’
    ‘I should have told Jane at the start,’ Lavinia fell back on the bed, her arms and legs kicking and thrashing.
    ‘You must make do with telling me instead. You have kicked a hornet’s nest, and I must be sure not to stamp on the wrong folk as I navigate this chaos. So I beseech you, tell me everything.’
    ‘No!’ Lavinia started to thrash and wail again. ‘It must be Jane!’
    ‘Alright, my dear.’ Her father took one hand and squeezed it gently. ‘If not to me, then yes, speak to Jane.’ He paused, his worry for his daughter competing with his anger. ‘Why in the name of our ancestors did you not speak to her before?’
    ‘Because she would have told you, Pop-pa,’ The Princess wiped a sleeve across her face. ‘It would have been her duty and Jane always does her duty. You know that!’
    ‘She strives to, certainly.’ He found her hand again and held it.
    ‘She would have told you and Gunther would have been in such trouble.’ Despite her misgivings, Lavinia’s wall of silence broke. ‘His father is a traitor, Pop-pa, I see that now. I thought it all a misunderstanding, but he really was plotting to marry his son to me. Gunther found out but he kept quiet about it.’
    ‘Did he indeed?’ the king kept his voice low and tender. He was not a man of sudden tempers, and he used that control now.
    ‘He wanted everyone to see how very bad his father can be. It was wrong of him to stay silent, but he can be good, Pop-pa, when he listens to Sir Theodore and to his own heart. He can be good.’
    ‘Not so very good my dear. He placed his desire to thwart his father above his duty to me and his duty to you.’
    ‘There, you see? THAT’S why I never told you! I knew that’s how you would see it. And now Gunther might be dead, and it’s all my fault for being silent.’
    ‘You mustn’t…’
    ‘Jester and Gunther gone like terrible stories that hurt and hurt you forever, and it’s all my fault. The hurt of it this is too much, I will never eat again, I don’t deserve to ever eat anything, or to sing or dance or play in the sunshine ever again. I will stay in the dark with no food and then I will wake up with our ancestors and find Jester and Gunther and beg their forgiveness.’
    ‘My poor child, my poor darling child,’ the king clung to his daughter, pulling her in as if to squeeze the pain from her. ‘Perhaps we can still find young Gunther. Track him down and protect him from his father.
     ‘Yes!’ the princess pulled back so she could look into her father’s eyes.’ Jane will know how to find him. If poor Gunther is alive and can be saved, Jane will know how. Everyone else will make a big mess of it, just like I did!’

    Jane’s anguish left her soaked in sweat and racked by nausea. She bent over her washing bowl and tried to vomit. Hot bile came burning from her throat. She grabbed her wooden staff and began destroying everything in her room. Every treasured object and memory of love, every link to her childhood and past happiness, she smashed them all until her room was an empty husk of stone walls and debris. 
    Sir Theodore was halfway across the battlement bridge that led to her door when he heard her screams of rage.
    ‘Good,’ he muttered. Yet it gave him pause, he had never had to deal with Jane in such a state. He knew from experience that a terrible loss could trigger an equally terrible outrage, one that had to be vented like puss from a wound lest the infection be trapped within and poison the heart. In time, grief could be transformed by anger, transformed into something far more potent. Some never made the transformation. Their grief remained a quagmire that slowed their progress and stole their futures. Not it seemed, for Jane. Which was encouraging, yet alarming too, in one so young.
    So, what was his duty here? Three separate expectations were upon him, yet they seemed, finally, to have coalesced into one. His first and original duty was to uphold the pledge he had made to honour the sacrifice of his colleague, a pledge to protect any dragon still at large in the world. That had led him here, to investigate the rumours of a dragon living in the mountain. Joining the castle guard and swearing a duty to the king had allowed him to stay on and watch over the dragon.
    Then Jane had arrived like wildfire into that gentle mix. The dragon had befriended her and suddenly she was the new center of Sir Theodore’s world. He had done his best to equip her for what might lie ahead, but not even he, with all his years of research, had understood the true price Jane would pay if she became a dragonblade to this creature. Now he did. Young Robert, son to one of his pledge brothers, had lifted that veil.
    So? What to do now? There was only one possible answer. Sir Theodore arrived at the door of her room and raised his hand to wrap on the oak panels. Then he felt the heat of Dragon’s breath on the back of his neck.  
    ‘Leave her,’ whispered Dragon,‘ safer for everyone.’ He was on the battlement above, his head hanging down. 
    ‘I will not. You may be a great deal older than me, Dragon, but you are no wiser matters of grief and guilt.’ Sir Theodore knocked on the door and pushed inside. 
    He was met by a snowstorm of feathers. Jane was ripping open the large sack that served as a mattress. Goose down swirled around her like a blizzard. She stopped and glared at Sir Theodore, her eyes red and raw. She said nothing, then resumed the attack on her bedding.
    ‘Please, don’t let me stop you,’ he remained by the door. Feathers settled on his hair and shoulders. 
    ‘I won’t,’ Jane’s voice was a rasping whisper. She looked for her water jug. It was in shards on the ground.
    ‘How can I be of service, Jane?’
    ‘You can bring me fresh water.’
    ‘Very well. I shall bring the pitcher from my quarters,’ Sir Theodore dipped his head and turned to leave the room.
    ‘Wait! What are you doing?’
    ‘Your bidding Jane. Do please take a moment to consider the scope of any request before you make it.’
    ‘Bravo, Sir Theodore. You have my attention.’
    ‘And?’
    ‘I mean to go and find Gunther. I made a promise to Jester. He said there was blood on the Merchant’s hands.’
    ‘Mmm,’ Sir Theodore took a few steps into the room, righted an upturned stool and sat down. ‘Perhaps Gunther stood up to his father at the last. If he did, I don’t see a lot of mercy coming his way. Let us hope the boy made his escape.’
    ‘No, he would come here. His father must have him.’
    ‘Then you must find them both,’ he paused and looked around at the mess. ‘If you are fit enough to do all this, then you are fit enough for duty. But first, the princess wishes to see you.’
    ‘Oh!’ Jane dropped her head. The fire drained from her eyes and she was a child lost in grief again. ‘I’m not ready for that.’
    ‘If you mean to find Gunther alive, then you must make yourself ready. I have worked with Sir Ivon to collect reports on the Merchant’s movements.’
    ‘Conclusions? Jane folded her arms. Her eyes were red but they were looking out at Sir Theodore now, not inward at her sorrow. He studied her face and saw the same fierce determination that had marked her out from the very beginning. Good.
    ‘All four vessels in his trading fleet set off within minutes of your arrival back here with Jester’s body.’
    ‘With Jester!’ Jane corrected him.
    ‘Yes, indeed. With Jester. The ships dispersed, each one setting out on a different compass heading.’
    ‘We can assume three are decoys.’
    ‘That’s Ivon’s conclusion. Four ships on different headings. Only Dragon can check them all those before they are too distant. As to Gunther’s whereabouts, only the princess knows everything that happened last night, and she won’t speak of it, except to you. Go to her Jane. Every minute of delay will add a furlong of ocean to your search.’ 

    Jane hurried down to the catacombs. She was determined see Jester before talking to the princess. She had dressed quickly, pulling on anything she could find. Her patrol outfit was useless. Pepper had cut it from her to get to her wounds. Instead she wore leggings of calf leather, a linen shirt and her riding boots. At the last minute she pulled on a tunic Jester had given to her at the Ceremony of the Sprites three years ago. She had never worn it until now, never truly thanking him by stepping out in it. 
    Jester looked just as she’d left him, drained of colour. Rake was pressing a sea sponge to his lips. The young gardener looked up at Jane and smiled. 
    ‘He’s still soft to the touch, Jane. That’s good, isn’t it?’
    ‘Cathgin?’ Jane looked across at the druid who was sitting at a small table, his white hair framed in candlelight. Cathgin looked up from his books.
    ‘By all measures of death, his limbs should be locked by now, but I can move them like a puppeteer. So yes, as far as it goes, it is a good sign.’
    ‘I feel so..’ Jane paused and stroked the back of Jester’s hand. She couldn’t find the words to express the mix of emptiness, anger and turmoil she was feeling. She needed to find Gunther, but she wanted to be here. With Jester. Willing him to come back.
    ‘My books, Jane,’ Cathgin clapped his hands. Jane turned to him.
    ‘Your books?’
    ‘Yes. Fetch them. Most were packed in my tower against my return,’ he tapped the pile sitting on the bench beside him.’ However I gave Jester permission to reference my collection at his leisure.’
    ‘So some are missing?’
    ‘A great many. Squirrelled away in his chamber no doubt. Bring them to me please.’
    ‘Surely Rake can..’
    ‘No,’ the druid paused and smiled, ‘I need them all, you see, including the ones that will have found their way into the King’s chamber and Sir Theodore’s. Not a mission for our castle gardener, stout of heart though he is.’ 
    ‘Of course,’ Jane bent, kissed Jester’s forehead, and set off to see the princess.

    ‘Ah, good!’ Sir Ivon was on duty outside Lavinia’s chambers. ‘How are your wounds?’
    ‘Attended to. Pepper applied her skills.’
    ‘Hmm, the queen’s physician should look at you.’
    ‘I am content with Pepper,’ said Jane, ‘she uses the old crafts.’
    ‘Aye. Can’t argue with you there,’ Ivon gave a short grunt and stepped aside.
    ‘Jane!’ the princess leapt from her bed, raced across her room, and threw herself into Jane’s embrace. ‘It was my fault, Jane. All of it.’
    ‘No.’ Jane looked at the king who was sitting off by the window. ‘The fault is mine.’
    ‘And mine,’ he got to his feet, his actions stiff from a sleepless night. ‘The princess wishes to speak to you alone, Jane,’ he kissed Lavinia on the top of her head, then placed a hand on Jane’s shoulder. ‘Please do all you can to lighten the burden she carries.’ He kissed his daughter again and left the room.
    ‘Could any day be more miserable that this?’ Lavinia released her fierce hold on Jane, stepped back, and studied her face. ‘You’ve been crying too.’
    ‘Yes. I have no tears left. Nothing to shed now but my terrible anger.’
    ‘At me?’
    ‘At myself.’
    ‘That is EXACTLY how I feel! Nobody understands. How can we make this right? Jester is in Cathgin’s care, but who is helping Gunther? We have to find him. I won’t allow him to be punished. My father wants my happiness. Gunther’s safe return and his pardon will bring that.’
    ‘And what of the Merchant?’
    ‘He must be torn apart in the public square for all to see. I’ve pictured nothing else all night. One horse at every limb.’ The Princess demonstrated by folding the fingers of her two hands together. Then she pulled them apart and made a long ripping sound through clenched teeth. A fire came into her eyes, driving out the sorrow.
    ‘Your father’s temperament would not allow for such a spectacle.’
    ‘He will do it for me. I have thought this over in detail, Jane. I will ride one horse, you the second. Smithy and Sir Ivon can ride the other two.’
    ‘And if Jester should recover? What would he advise?’
    ‘Oh,’ Lavinia took a deep breath.’ 
    ‘And if he doesn’t, no punishment would bring him back to us.’
    ‘I know,’ the fire disappeared from Lavinia’s eyes. She took Jane’s hand and pulled her to one of the tall windows that looked our across the Royal Gardens. At it’s boundary was the castle’s outer wall, and beyond that the ocean. From the window they had an unbroken view of the sea, a strip of blue stretching out to the far horizon.
     ‘Gunther is out there somewhere,’ said Lavinia.
     ‘I shall find him.’ Jane didn’t look down at the princess, and Lavinia didn’t look up. Both kept their eyes fixed on the ocean.
     ‘I was so, so foolish,’ said Lavinia. ‘I think the best of people when I should always think the worst. I shall never think kindly again.’
     ‘Enough!’ Jane snapped, ‘we can’t indulge in that. Self pity is a luxury that must wait. Do you understand?’
     ‘Yes,’ Lavinia stuck her chin out. ‘Mother said the same thing. This is not about you, she said. This is about the future of our kingdom.’
    ‘On this we agree. So, tell me, was Gunther alive when you saw him last?’
    ‘Yes. That’s what I need to tell you, Jane. I think he tried to stop his father, right at the very last. I heard them screaming at each other when I was being taken through the house by one of the men. Then, when I was outside in the yard, the Merchant came to the door to see me into the wagon. He took my hand to kiss my ring, and blood came running down his arm and over his cuff.’
    ‘Gunther’s blood? Is that what you think?’
    ‘No!’ Lavinia almost shouted. ‘No, it wasn’t splashes.’
    ‘Go on.’
    ‘It was running down the Merchant’s arm, long threads of bright, fresh blood, and there was a big patch up here!’ She slapped a hand to one elbow. ‘Right here! That can only come from a cut that is still pumping out fresh blood.’
    ‘How do you know such things?’
    ‘Father let me attend the cutting of the stag after the last hunt. Cuthbert refused and father looked so saddened by it that I took his place.’
    ‘You believe the Merchant was bleeding from a deep wound to his arm?’
    ‘I’m sure of it. Gunther stood up to him. For me!’
    ‘Perhaps! I would like to believe it.’ Jane turned from the window and levelled her gaze at the princess. ‘One last question. Where is my sword?’
    ‘You’re dragonblade?’
    ‘That’s not its true name, but yes. Did you leave it in Dragon’s cave?’
    ‘No,’ Lavinia lowered her eyes.
    ‘You had it with you when you flew down to see the Merchant?’
    ‘Yes,’ the princess kept her eyes on the floor. Jane didn’t reply, she turned and strode from the room.
    ‘Jane!’ Lavinia called after her, not because she expected a formal exit from one of her subjects, but because she was struck by a sudden foreboding. She called out as if to an older sister, one who had outgrown her childhood, one who was leaving behind the home and household that had been the sum total of her world. A beloved companion who was leaving without as much as a backward glance. Lavinia went back to her bed, crawled under the covers, and made a vow never to come out again unless Jane and Gunther were back in the Palace Gardens below, fighting and bickering and teasing each other as they had for most of Lavinia’s happy life.