Fic: Simple Pleasures, Chap 10
Title: Simple Pleasures Fandom: Kushiel’s Legacy Characters: Isidore d’Aiglemort, Anne Livet Pairings: Isidore/Anne Word Count: 8,468 Rating: NC-17 Summary: The story of Isidore d’Aiglemort & the gardener’s daughter of Lombelon. WIP. Disclaimer: I do not own Kushiel’s Legacy. This is only for fun & no profit is being made from it.
Previous Chapters:
1. The Visit
2. Desire
3. The Harvest Festival
4. Triumph
5. Gifts
6. The Eagle Unbound
7. Lighting the Candle
8. The Longest Night
9. The Final Parting
Chapter 10: The Sword of Camael
Things had, to put it bluntly, not gone according to plan.
They’d known. Somehow, they’d known. The Royal Army had known my plan and adjusted its position accordingly. They’d hidden it well, too—I’d had no idea until I heard shouts and the sound of steel on steel as the Glory-Seekers fell upon my loyal forces. And it wasn’t just them, oh no—a portion of my own army, Allies of Camlach, men from Camaeline houses owing fealty to me as their sovereign Duc, joined them. Their attack had been enough to halt my plan and throw everything into disarray. Though, I thought bitterly, mayhap that was actually for the best.
I’d been played for a fool.
Selig never meant to honor our agreement.
I cursed myself for a fool for not having seen it coming. He meant to invade; all the intelligence confirmed that. I thought I could use him for my own ends and stave off invasion. How could I have been so blind? We’d have been cut to pieces if the traitors hadn’t kept us busy. As soon as I saw the Skaldi cut them down when they tried to make their escape, I knew. The Skaldi had no way of knowing those men had betrayed me. We made our escape into the mountains, where I could be reasonably certain of our safety. No one knew them like we did, after all.
It was after we retreated safely that the priests came to denounce me. All of them, every priest of Camael left in the army. I’d never been overly close with Camael’s priesthood, not like my father had been. I tolerated them of course—how could I not when I was sovereign Duc of Camlach?—but I was never one to ask for their blessings upon me before battle. Better to rely on my own skill and steel than any aid from the Terre-d’Ange-that-lies-beyond. Nonetheless I never made any protests or barred them from following my armies to battle. It was tradition, after all, and the men took comfort from their presence.
Still, I will not lie and say I didn’t feel deeply uneasy when they made their denunciation. “lsidore d’Aiglemort,” began the most senior of them, “you have betrayed the sacred trust of Elua and his Companions. You have let the Skaldi in the passes, transgressing against the throne of Terre d’Ange. You have turned away from your duty as Camael’s scion. You have shown yourself to be without honor. Camael has withdrawn his favor.” With that, all the assembled priests turned their backs on me and walked away. No one dared hinder them. They’d not betray us to the Skaldi. To the Royal Army, mayhap, but not the Skaldi.
I glanced at the faces of the lords and captains gathered around me. Several of them were clearly uneasy about what had just transpired. Our situation was precarious enough for the proclaimed loss of Camael’s favor to be unsettling. Anne would’ve been horrified, pious as she was.
Anne.
Anne.
Did she know? With Lombelon lying not far from the main road leading from the war zone to the City, it was likely she did. Word of the invasion and my treason would spread quickly. That thought, that she knew what I’d done, filled me with more shame than anything else. The failure of my plans, being played for a fool by a Skaldi warlord, earning the condemnation of the priests of Camael… all of that paled in comparison. If I were to get myself out of this mess and see her again, what would I say to her? I’d kept all of it from her and in doing so had lied by omission. Hard as it had been, it was necessary. By keeping her ignorant of my plans I kept her safe, and thank Elua I had! From that particular danger, at least.
The other danger was considerably greater.
A Skaldi horde was now on the loose in Terre d’Ange led by a warlord more cunning and charismatic than any in living memory. With the clarity of hindsight I could see now that I’d underestimated Waldemar Selig the exact same way most D’Angelines underestimated me. All Camaelines think with their swords indeed. Such a fool I’d been, not to see it. And now all of Terre d’Ange was in deadly peril. From what intelligence we’d been able to gather, we learned the Royal Army had retreated to the fortress of Troyes-le-Mont and the Skaldi were besieging them. I breathed a small sigh of relief at that, for it meant our situation was less precarious. Selig would be too preoccupied besieging Troyes-le-Mont to take the time to kill me. He’d be hard-pressed finding me anyway, for no one knew the mountains like the Allies of Camlach.
There were no other options. We could do nothing about the Skaldi, not when there were some thirty thousand of them to our four thousand. No, for now we would remain hidden in the mountains while I considered my options.
**
The situation did not improve after that first day. I wept until I thought I had no more tears to shed. I had been thoroughly shaken to my foundations and could find nothing to grasp to steady myself. Again and again I pondered how well I’d truly known Isidore, that I didn’t think him capable of something like this. There was a whole side to him I’d not seen, and in my worst moments I questioned our entire relationship. Was what passed between us real? Yes, I told myself. If he was faking his feelings, then he missed his calling as a player. The love I saw blazing in his eyes, the raw emotion I heard in his voice when last we parted were proof his feelings weren’t feigned. Mayhap if he’d confided in me, I could’ve convinced him not to go through with it. Mayhap I could’ve gotten him to see that this was folly. I shook my head, dismissing such thoughts from my mind. I would drive myself mad with such thoughts, and I needed clarity of mind more now than ever.
The changes were immediate. As soon as word of Isidore’s treason spread through the manor and village beyond, the stares and whispers began. Conversations would halt when I walked by or else folk would whisper behind their hands, thinking I didn’t hear what they said of me. “That’s the one. Spread her legs for a traitor and let him get a child on her!” became all too familiar. Some of the folk of the village even went so far as to spit at my feet. They clearly thought I was somehow party to Isidore’s treason, or at least guilty through association. I’d shared his bed for years, after all, and now carried his child. Some few shopkeepers in the village even refused to sell to me, turning me away with claims that they didn’t sell to a traitor’s whore.
The mood in the manor was another matter. I was not regarded with as much contempt and suspicion among people I’d lived and worked with for years. Some, such as Thèrese and Marcel, voiced support for me, claiming I’d never stand for treason. I appreciated their words, though it did not escape my notice that they regarded me with greater wariness than before. Innocent of treason I might’ve been, but I was still lover and would-be consort to a traitor. Then there were the others, who regarded me with similar scorn as the folk in the village. It was not quite as blatant, but it was there all the same.
I’d never felt more alone. There was not a single person I could speak to about my troubles, not in the manor anyway. So I paid a visit to the shrine of Elua. It was a place I knew well, having visited it many times. The same priest had tended it too, for as long as I could remember. If anyone could ease my troubled heart, it was him.
I removed my shoes and stockings before approaching the shrine. The grass was a pleasant tickle against my bare feet. I always liked going about barefoot in the warm weather.
“Anne.”
I turned to see a familiar priest of Elua approach. “Hello Brother Michel.”
“Have you come to make an offering?”
“No. I was hoping I might speak with you.”
“Of course.” He gestured to the small house adjoining the shrine. “Shall we go inside?”
“Yes, thank you.” Had I not been so far gone with child, I’d have sat on the grass, but I had trouble rising from such a position in my current state. Once inside, I seated myself in a chair beside Brother Michel’s bookshelf. He sat in the chair opposite mine and spoke.
“I’ve heard the news of the Duc d’Aiglemort. Is that what you wished to speak with me about?”
“Yes,” I replied softly. “Please believe me when I say I knew nothing of his plans. Suspicion has fallen on me, in both the manor and the village.”
“Of course I believe you, Anne,” said Brother Michel. “It is plain to see that your heart is troubled. Had you been party to d’Aiglemort’s treason, I do not think it would be so.”
“Thank you.” I didn’t think I could stand it if our priest of Elua held me in suspicion. “Things have been… difficult since the news reached us. I never had the slightest inkling that he was plotting treason. I’ve been struggling to reconcile that knowledge with the man I know.”
“A common sentiment for someone in your position. It is only natural for you to wonder how well you knew him when you had no idea he was plotting treason,” Brother Michel observed.
“It’s not just that. There have been moments when I’ve wondered whether my love was misplaced, or if his love for me was false,” I confessed. My chest felt tight at the admission—saying it aloud made it more real than it had been inside my head.
“What does your heart tell you?” Brother Michel’s voice was impossibly gentle.
“I…” The words caught in my throat and I had to force them out, “I don’t think his love for me is feigned, and what I feel for him I know to be true.”
“Then you should take some comfort in that. Love is no easy thing, Anne. It is hard, hard and even cruel. We all struggle at times to remain true to Blessed Elua’s precept. If your feelings for the Duc d’Aiglemort were not true, I doubt you would be feeling as you are now.”
“I have always tried my best to follow Blessed Elua’s precept,” I said, “but I’ve never had such trouble before now.”
“Again, you must look to what your heart tells you. All I can say is the course of love does not always run smooth.”
When I left Brother Michel later that day, I felt a bit better about my situation, some of my doubts dissipating. They were not gone entirely, but I felt comforted at the thought that it was Blessed Elua’s will. Our hearts had been joined, and even the knowledge of Isidore’s treason was not enough to completely sunder the bond between us. There was no sense on dwelling on what I now knew about him; best to confront him about it when I saw him again. That I resolved to do, for I had to understand. I had to know if I was to be his consort and the mother of his child.
None of that made it much easier to face the constant suspicion and outright hostility. For the first time in my life I wished I could run away from it all, leave Lombelon for somewhere no one knew who I was and whose child I carried. To the City, mayhap. The problem was that I was hardly fit to travel in my condition with my time nearly upon me and besides that, the thought of leaving behind everything and everyone I knew filled me with fear. No, Lombelon was my home and there I would remain. I couldn’t think of having my child anywhere else. But that didn’t mean I had to remain in the manor for my lying in. Instead, once summer came and the pear trees were in bloom, I took myself to the shrine of Eisheth.
**
In the days of my youth, my father had me study the geography of Camlach until I knew it like the back of my hand. When I became Duc and formed the Allies of Camlach, I used that knowledge to create a system of pathways through the mountains which allowed us to move quickly through the province when needed. I made use of that knowledge now.
We spent a couple of days at that first campsite, then moved to another deeper in the mountains. The Skaldi had neglected to pursue us, being occupied with the Royal Army, but I thought it best not to take any chances. It was a wide valley ringed by mountains, hard for a horde of Skaldi to find. Our options were limited. Scouts reported that the western passes had been sealed against us. Ysandre and de Somerville were taking no chances. Unfortunately, they also cut off our baggage train. That, needless to say, presented difficulties.
One of the first things I did after we settled into our initial campsite was order an inventory of our supplies. The results were not encouraging: we were limited to what we carried and a small portion of the baggage train quick enough to avoid being cut off with the rest. It wouldn’t last long, even with reduced rations. Of necessity I ordered men with the necessary skills to hunt and forage in the surrounding area. We were very fortunate that it was early summer. I had to hope that would be enough until we could replenish our supplies in full.
I had no idea when that would be.
I had no idea how to get myself out of this mess.
**
The shrine to Eisheth proved to be the sanctuary I needed in the days leading up to the birth. The priestess and her acolyte welcomed me in and promptly settled me in a small guest room off of the shrine. It was a cozy room, with a comfortable bed and windows looking out on the shrine’s herb gardens. A good place for a lying-in, I thought. Mayhap not the expected choice, but it would do. If the priestesses were surprised at my appearance, they said naught. I didn’t share with them why I’d left the manor, nor did they ask. If was a huge relief to take refuge somewhere no one cared I was Isidore’s consort and carrying his child. I needed that badly after all I’d endured these last weeks. Now all I had to do was endure childbirth.
I had a good idea of what to expect. Women will often speak of such matters before an impending birth and I’d heard plenty throughout my life, usually with those women who never lit the candle chiming in to say they didn’t regret their decision. The others didn’t shy away from describing just how painful giving birth was. “Felt like I’d been run over by a wagon when it was over,” one put it. Thus, I approached the birth with a combination of apprehension and eagerness for it to be over and done with. The priestess examined me and assured me that everything was ordinary and I was due any day now.
Those last days seemed to drag on for an eternity. There was naught for me to do but sit around and wait for the pangs to start. Truth be told I couldn’t complain too much, as I hardly felt up to more than that anyway. Normally I’d be well-occupied with the gardens as summer came. I missed it dearly. Even though I hadn’t worked as a servant for months now, I was still not quite used to idleness. I had plenty of it now, and more time to think than I could’ve possibly wanted. I spent it thinking on the birth to come. Better to keep my mind on that than on anything else.
I’d been staying at the shrine for a little more than two weeks when it finally happened. The priestesses were quick to take me to a different room from the one I’d been staying in and settle me on the bed. At long last, the babe was coming.
**
We were surrounded.
It was actually rather impressive that they managed it, though I’d not bothered to post more sentries than the minimum, not this deep in the mountains. My first thought was that the Skaldi had come to finish us off after all and I immediately began considering potential routes of escape. There was no way we could make a stand in the valley, not when we were surrounded on all sides. The only option was to fight our way through. Before I could think on that any further, the sound of trumpets rang out in the valley. I looked up to see several banners prominently displayed, too far away for me to make out their devices.
“Isidore d’Aiglemort!” Ghislain de Somerville’s voice rang out from the hills. “We wish to parley. We send our heralds in good faith! Will you honor the concords of war?”
Was there much of a choice? They had us surrounded. If we tried to make an escape, we’d be at a disadvantage attacking uphill while they held the high ground. No, our only option was to treat with them. I knew Ghislain to be an honorable man, not the sort who’d lure us into a trap. It was too difficult to shout up, so I gave an exaggerated bow as a response. A moment later a small group bearing what was unmistakably a white flag of truce made its way to the valley floor. They were immediately surrounded and brought before me. As they approached, I noticed a second banner flying beneath the flag of truce, an unfamiliar device of a jagged circle of red pierced by a golden dart on a black field.
“What is your message?” I greeted them, cutting straight to the point.
“We come bearing an offer of truce, your grace,” said the standard bearer. “Will you agree to treat with us?”
“I don’t see how I have much choice,” I retorted. “Yes, I will treat with you.”
The standard bearer nodded. “We will remain here as a gesture of good faith while you speak with our leaders.”
“Done.”
It did not take long for me to assemble an escort. We went armed, but I elected to leave my helm behind as a gesture of good faith. I’d certainly be in need of that going forward. We followed the path the heralds took until we reached the top of the trail. L’Agnacite archers stood to either side of it, each with an arrow nocked and pointed at my head. I ignored them and made straight for Ghislain de Somerville. “I am here, cousin. You wished to speak with me?” No sense in bothering with excessive courtesy or appealing to friendship—whatever friendly association I had with Ghislain in the past was long gone now.
“The emissary of Ysandre de la Courcel, Queen of Terre d’Ange, wishes to speak with you, your grace,” said Ghislain. I took a moment to scan the forces surrounding me then, looking for the emissary. My eyes widened in shock when I caught sight of a number of warriors with blue whorls tattooed on their faces.
“My lord.”
I turned my attention to a D’Angeline woman who stepped out from the crowd to stand before me. There was somewhat distinctly familiar about her. “You,” I said, frowning as I tried to recall where I’d last seen her. “I know you.”
“Yes, my lord. I gave joie to you at the Midwinter Masque when Baudoin de Trevalion played the Sun Prince. You remembered, when last we met.” It came to me then, the palace, a chance encounter with a Servant of Naamah. “You were fostered among the Shahrizai. They should have taught you to recognize the mark of Kushiel’s Dart, my lord.”
My gaze flicked over to her left eye, taking in the red mote in the brown of the iris. She was right—no one could spend four years fostering with the Shahrizai and befriend Melisande without knowing of anguissettes. “Delaunay’s anguissette. I remember. Melisande begged a favor, for a plan gone awry. I thought you gone, among the Skaldi. But your lord’s death was not of my will, anguissette.”
“So I am given to understand,” said Phèdre nó Delaunay.
I raised my eyebrows. “You are not here for revenge? Then what?” I turned my attention to the many blue tattooed faces clustered around us. “You bring the Picti? Why?” Then it dawned on me. “Delaunay. That’s what he and Quintilius Rousse were about.”
“My lord, this is the army of the Cruarch of Alba and Ghislain de Somerville. And we are here to offer you the choosing of the manner of your death.”
My men did not take kindly to that and reached for their swords. It was hardly what I wanted to hear, but I’d agreed to this meeting. I held up a hand and my men fell back into place. “How do you say?”
“You are a dead man, Kilberhaar,” she stated plainly. The blood left my face at the sound of the Skaldi’s name for me. “Waldemar Selig used you for a fool. He’ll not let you live, if he defeats us; the D’Angelines know you for a traitor, and will not abide it. Selig’s smart enough to clean up after himself, and wise enough to leave no blade aimed at his back. I know, I spent considerable time in his bed, thanks to you. You’re dead, no matter who wins. We can offer you a chance to die with honor.”
There it was, laid plain before me, the reality I had to face. There would be no escaping this alive. I threw my head back and tossed my hair over my shoulders. “What possible reason would I have to take it, anguissette?”
“I am Phèdre nó Delaunay and I can give you a reason, my lord. Because if you do not, and Selig prevails, Melisande Shahrizai will dance upon your grave.”
Her words were a knife to the heart. Melisande, my old friend, who’d befriended me when I was newly come to the Shahrizai and homesick, who’d encouraged my ambitions from the very beginning. A friend. I called her a friend. I thought she felt the same way about me. I could only stare at Phèdre nó Delaunay. “Melisande was in league with Selig?”
“Yes, my lord. I saw a letter, in her own hand. I know it well. I ought to. You would be well-advised to do her no more favors.”
I cursed and turned away from her then, looking out over the valley where my army waited below. That was it then, the truth. Melisande had used me to serve her ends and discarded me once I’d served my purpose. What a fool I’d been, to think her my friend! She’d done the same thing to Baudoin; I was blind to think she wouldn’t do it to me. Her betrayal of Baudoin should’ve been a signal to me of her true nature. She’d played me very well, shaping my ambitions into a tool for her own use, and I’d been too damned blind to see it. Again I cursed myself for a fool. It seemed to be happening with increasing frequency as of late.
Well, if Melisande and Selig thought I would meekly accept the hand they’d dealt me, they were sorely mistaken.
“I am the sword you would plunge into Selig’s heart,” I said, keeping my back to the crowd.
“Yes, your grace. Camael’s sword.” That was Ghislain de Somerville.
I laughed harshly. “The betrayer of the nation turned its savior.” Below, a crowd had formed around the messengers. We’d been starved for news, and they were no doubt at work filling my men in on all that had transpired since our flight. My men, who I’d led into this disaster. I had a responsibility to them too. “Will you feed them?” I asked Ghislain. He would understand. “Ysandre cut off our supply-train, and sealed the doors of Camlach against us.”
“We will,” he promised.
I turned and met his eyes. “What do you propose?”
“I propose that we unite our forces and mount an attack on Selig’s army,” he gave a faint smile, “and strike as hard as we can for Waldemar Selig. No one’s asking you to die alone, cousin.”
“Selig is mine,” I declared with a calm I didn’t quite feel. “Swear it, and I will grant what you ask.”
“I swear.” Ghislain’s expression grew stern. “Do you pledge your fealty to Ysandre de la Courcel, on Camael’s honor, and in the name of Blessed Elua?”
“I’ll pledge my loyalty to the destruction of Melisande Shahrizai.” Ghislain glanced over at Phèdre, who gave a slight nod. That was enough for them, it seemed.
With an agreement reached, the army made its slow descent into the valley. It was quite fortunate that we were encamped in a valley large enough to accommodate another army roughly the same size as my own. We’d not be remaining long in any case. I rode beside Ghislain and the others as we made our way down.
“You were the Cassiline, weren’t you?” I asked the stone-faced Cassiline Brother who rode beside Phèdre nó Delaunay. “I remember. Melisande’s favor.”
“Yes, my lord,” he replied with bitterness in his voice. “I was the Cassiline. Joscelin Verreuil formerly of the Cassiline Brotherhood.”
“You’re better off. Steel and faith are an unnatural mix. I’m impressed, though. I’d have thought slavery would kill a Cassiline. I’ll want to hear, later, all you know of Waldemar Selig.” With that I left them, for I had other matters requiring my immediate attention. There would be time to speak of such matters during our war meeting.
The meeting took place as soon as the army was settled and the logistical matters were seen to. The sight of the Albans with their blue tattooed faces and unwieldy war chariots caused quite a stir in the camp. An Alban army crossing to D’Angeline shores. No one would’ve believed such a thing possible, yet it had been done. Mayhap our own mission was not entirely a reckless gamble.
All but the absolute necessities I carried with me were lost with our baggage train, and Ghislain’s command tent had been left behind in Azzalle, so we had to improvise. We did have maps, which were updated to include the current positions of the various armies. The discussion went on for some time. The Albans had no concept of battle formations, which meant time had to be taken to explain it to them. Once that was seen to, the planning moved more swiftly. The final plan we settled on was relatively simple: the Camaeline infantry would form the front line of assault against the Skaldi. I knew well how disciplined my own men were and there was no one else I’d rather have holding the line. When the Skaldi rallied from the initial attack, the Albans would swoop in from the wings and engage them. Then the infantry would split and my cavalry would ride through to meet the Skaldi. Both Phèdre and Messire Verreuil were certain Selig would be on the front lines. We would have to fight our way through a horde of Skaldi to get to him.
“How good is he?” I asked once the planning was done. “Do you know, Cassiline?”
“He disarmed me,” he answered. “In the heat of battle. He is that good, my lord.”
I studied the Cassiline for a moment, taking his measure. Their discipline was not like what we were taught in Camlach, and Camaeline boys almost never joined the Cassiline Brotherhood. Still, I knew enough to have respect for their fighting prowess. “Then I shall have to be better,” I said quietly, hand on the hilt of my sword.
There was silence while my words sunk in, then Joscelin Verreuil spoke again. “Don’t wait to engage him. He’ll move inside your guard if you do. He fights without thinking, the way you or I breathe. And don’t be fooled by his size. He’s faster than you think.”
I nodded, acknowledging his words. “Thank you.”
**
All my life I heard stories of the agonies of childbirth. It was a common enough complaint among women that it was a topic of conversation when we worked together in the kitchen or at other chores. Going into this, I thought I had a good idea of what to expect. I was wrong.
No amount of previous knowledge could’ve prepared me for this.
It was agony, mayhap a hundred times worse than the strongest pain I’d previously experienced. The priestesses of Eisheth, who had plenty of experience of midwifery, told me to take deep breaths and exhale slowly. This was meant to give me somewhat to focus on besides the pain, and it did for a time.
The room they took me to was commonly used for patients, including women giving birth. The bed was laid out with clean sheets and piled with pillows. They propped me up on the pillows after stripping me down to my shift. I hadn’t been at it for long before I was asking myself why exactly I’d chosen to do this of my own free will. I could’ve lived my entire life without knowing such horrible pain, but I just had to light the candle. At least those were my thoughts before the pain wiped away anything else.
I couldn’t have even begun to guess how long it went on. Every minute felt like an hour. I cried out until my throat was raw and my face was wet with tears. Then—finally—it ended. I was so exhausted and out of it that it took me until I heard the sound of an infant crying to comprehend what had just happened.
“You have a son, Anne,” said one of the priestesses.
A son.
I had a son.
Isidore and I, we had a son.
Later, when I lay on clean sheets with my son sleeping soundly in my arms, I could not stop marveling at him, this new life I had brought into the world. Such a miraculous thing, that I should carry him inside my womb for nine months and now I was seeing and holding him for the first time. After so much anticipation it was almost hard to believe he was finally here, but he was. He was wonderfully real. I studied his tiny face. Sometimes babes come out of the womb strongly resembling one parent or the other. I couldn’t see that now. Mayhap it would become apparent in time. For now I was content to delight in this new life we created together. He was perfect. I’d always hoped to have a child, and now I had one. Looking at him, I knew that I would do absolutely anything for him. My love for him was absolute. “I hope you have silver hair like your father,” I whispered, then pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, “Maslin.”
The name we’d chosen for him. His grandfather’s name.
**
There is a certain calm in facing one’s impending death.
It came with the absence of doubt. All uncertainty lies stripped away and the hand of fate presses down. One knows, in that moment, all hopes of struggle and escape are futile. There will be no clever stratagems at the last minute, no daring escape from the scaffold. All one can do is accept fate and walk calmly toward it.
I had only one full day left. One day. There was enough to do with the preparations for the battle that I had little time to dwell on that realization. I did not think of how my plans had gone wrong and what might’ve been. I did not think of all those places I wished I could see, things I could do, people I could see one last time before the end.
All but one.
Anne, I’m so, so sorry. The woman I loved, who I’d wronged in my folly. I would never see her again. Our child would grow up fatherless. Everything I promised—consort status for her, an inheritance for our child—would never come to pass. That was my fault. Both of them would bear the taint of association with me, being the lover and child of a traitor. If I succeeded in what I meant to do and killed Selig, at least I could give them somewhat to be proud of.
When I had a moment to spare, I wrote one last letter to Anne. I owed her that. I didn’t bother trying to explain or justify my actions—what was the point of that now? I only hoped she could find it in her heart to forgive me and not raise our child to hate me. Just before we were set to march, I entrusted the letter a courier. By the time it arrived at Lombelon, I’d be dead.
We left early the next day. Just before we broke camp, word came that the siege defenses had fallen and the Skaldi were at the gates of Troyes-le-Mont. We would be just in time, it seemed. The march out of Camlach and into Namarre took most of the day—it was sunset when we arrived in sight of the besieged fortress. The Skaldi surrounded it completely, a vast horde larger than any seen in Terre d’Ange in a very long time. Siege towers could be seen here and there, corroborating what Ghislain told us. We made camp in the foothills, far enough back that the Skaldi scouts wouldn’t detect us but close enough that we could see the area clearly.
“We’ll wait for daybreak,” said Ghislain once we were encamped, “and pray they know us for allies in the fortress. The sooner they counterattack the Skaldi rear, the better our chances.”
“You think they’ll flock to aid the d’Aiglemort eagle?” I inquired. “Don’t count on their being quick, cousin.”
“My father is no fool. Drustan’s men are flying the Cullach Gorrym. He’ll know,” Ghislain assured me.
“If he can even see the Black Pig, over thirty thousand howling Skaldi.” I shrugged. “We’ll do as much damage as we can, and pray it’s enough to break the siege. But for every minute your father hesitates, and for every minute it takes for them to marshal a counterattack, we’ll die by the hundreds.”
Our discussion was interrupted by one of the chevaliers sworn to Phèdre nó Delaunay, who cried out and pointed to a line of prisoners just visible in the distance. Horror and revulsion rose within me as I saw they were all women. I knew the Skaldi had a fondness for D’Angeline women, had even freed women they took captive in raids. But knowing and seeing are different things. This was in part my doing. This might well be the fate that awaited Anne if we failed. I felt sick at the thought of her being brutalized and violated by the Skaldi. I glanced over at Phèdre, who was visibly shaken by the sight. Her face was pressed into her Cassiline’s chest and she was shuddering. I had done that to her.
“I am sorry,” I said softly. “For what was done to you both. For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”
It felt good to say it. Joscelin Verreuil met my eyes and nodded.
“Daybreak,” said Ghislain, voice filled with grim determination.
We returned to the camp shortly after that, to see to the final preparations. The sense of calm I’d felt since accepting my fate was still with me, now pared with a greater sense of urgency after seeing the Skaldi at the gates of Troyes-le-Mont. We could not fail.
That will not happen, I reassured myself. We will not fail.
I will not fail.
When night fell, I retired early. I wanted to be sure I was well-rested for the battle to come. It was surprising, how easily sleep came. I slept soundly, until I felt someone kneel down beside me. My hand instantly went to my sword and in a moment it was pointed at the visitor’s throat. “You,” I said as I recognized Phèdre nó Delaunay, “what is it?”
“My lord,” she replied softly, “the fortress will be ready for your attack.”
I sheathed my sword and stared at her. “You’ll be captured.”
“Not before I gain the wall.” She shivered, despite her cloak. “The Skaldi camp is full of D’Angeline women. I can get close enough. And I can give a warning Ysandre will understand.”
I shook my head. “Do you not understand? Selig will make you talk. You’ll give us all up for dead.”
“No. No, my lord. I am the one person who will not.”
Reflexively my gaze went to her left eye. It was too dark to make out the mote. I pushed my hair back from my face and asked, “Why are you telling me?”
“Because you, my lord, are the one person who won’t try to stop me,” she replied. “Help me get past our sentries. A hundred lives for every minute, you said. I can save a thousand, at least; mayhap three times that many. I gave you the choice of your death. The least you can do is honor mine.”
I couldn’t argue with that. Instead I gave a curt nod and rose from my position. Together we walked to the edge of the camp where one of my men was posted as a sentry. I called him aside and he turned his attention to me. I did not watch as Phèdre nó Delaunay slipped past and made her way to the fortress, trusting instead that she knew what she was about. There had been no doubt or hesitation in her words to me and I wondered if it was Kushiel who’d set her to do this. She was his Chosen, after all.
Kushiel, who I would be meeting soon.
Before long, the first rays of the sun broke over the horizon. Every preparation that could be made had been made. I checked my armor, weapons, and horse as I did before every battle. It would not do for any mistakes in that area today. Beneath my armor and padding I wore one of the shirts Anne made me. Her handkerchief was tucked into my pocket. Mayhap I was being sentimental, but there was somewhat comforting in having the gifts she’d given me on my person when I went to my death. I wondered what she was doing now, if she hated me for what I’d done. I wondered if our child had been born, the child I would never see. Maslin for a boy; Louise for a girl, we’d decided.
Forgive me.
All around me, D’Angeline soldiers prayed to Camael. Normally the priests would make offerings and lead the prayer, but of course we had none. To my surprise I found myself kneeling to join them. “Camael,” I murmured, “I know that I have disgraced myself and betrayed your sacred trust. I ask not for your forgiveness, only that you let me wield your sword in defense of Terre d’Ange one last time.”
There was no answer. I hadn’t expected one.
Ghislain de Somerville and I positioned ourselves on one of the hills just past the camp, a good vantage point to survey the battle. My cavalry waited in position nearby. It was in truth a beautiful early summer day, with the sun shining and nary a cloud to be seen. All in all, not a bad day to die.
As I watched my infantry march forward and engage the Skaldi, the calm I’d felt deepened and the focus I always had during battle came upon me. It was familiar, yet also sharper. The world narrowed to the field of battle and everything else vanished. The Skaldi broke upon the Camaeline shieldwall like water on rocks. The L’Agnacite archers positioned behind the shieldwall fired volley after volley of arrows into the mass of Skaldi. Whatever discipline Selig managed to instill in them was starting to unravel as they charged the shieldwall again and again. If the numbers were more evenly matched, I daresay they might’ve held for quite some time. Instead, the tide of Skaldi was moving forward to flank them.
I met Ghislain’s eyes and could tell without asking he had the same thought I did. We exchanged brief nods and I signaled for the Albans to attack. They charged forward, cavalry on the right and war chariots on the left with infantry swarming behind both. The sight of them sent a wave of shock through the Skaldi; I suspect it was the blue faces that did it. Whatever it was, the Skaldi were entirely unprepared for a horde of Albans. Thus far, the battle was going as we’d hoped it would. My time was coming soon. I parted from Ghislain and joined my cavalry, taking my place at their head. We moved into position, ready to charge as soon as I gave the command. I watched closely as the infantry dug in and held their position against the onslaught.
The time was now.
I signaled the charge and spurred my horse forward. A horn sounded the call and as one, the line of infantry broke in two. We charged forward into the breach and struck the Skaldi with the force of a hammer. I did not need to look back to know the infantry had reformed behind us. Swords singing, we laid into the Skaldi.
. Yes, this is what I was meant for, to wield a sword in battle, I thought as I slew. My blood was up, as it always was during battle. Scions of Camael were made for this. I was relentless as I drove forward to my goal. Those Skaldi foolish enough to get in my way fell to my sword and did not rise again. “Kilberhaar!” they shouted at the sight of me. Many of them fled. “Kilberhaar!”
Good, I thought. I want them to know. I hadn’t bothered tying my hair back for that reason. I wanted him to know.
Pain blossomed in several places; I ignored it, only registering that I’d been wounded. Camael’s battle fire was in me now, and I wondered if he’d forgiven me enough to give me his favor one last time. Ahead, a large Skaldi man shouted orders from atop a tall horse. Selig. It had to be. He turned to see the charge heading straight for him. In response he raised his sword in the air and shouted, “Kilberhaar!” A moment later he was charging toward me.
Excellent. Come at me and we will see who proves the better!
The waves of Skaldi parted to let Selig through. No doubt they were filled with excitement at the prospect of a duel to the death between us. Ahead, feu d’Hellas fell from the trebuchets atop the fortress wall. It was quickly followed by the drawbridge being lowered into place. The D’Angeline forces were across it a moment later and fell upon the Skaldi with all the pent-up rage and frustration of an army that had endured a siege for many weeks. I allowed myself a small sigh of relief—Phèdre nó Delaunay had gotten her message through.
Men fell all around me, D’Angeline and Skaldi both. I did not pause for a moment to note who among my men they were, only noting that the line of cavalry was growing steadily thinner. I took notice when my standard bearer went down, aware now that I’d been separated from the rest of my cavalry and fought on alone.
A spear thrust got my horse in the neck; I jumped free as he fell. Selig was nearly upon me now, and I did not like my odds on foot against a skilled mounted opponent. Best to even the odds. I slew the nearest Skaldi warrior and grabbed his battle axe. As Selig approached, I threw it left-handed. It hit his horse in the neck and it went down with a mighty crash. Selig was on his feet a moment later.
The stories did not exaggerate. Selig was a large man, mayhap a few inches taller than me and a fair bit broader. He was also fresh, or at least fresher than I was. As I looked upon my enemy, the man I’d sworn to kill, Camael’s battle fire burned hot within me. Lend your strength to my sword arm one last time, I prayed. With that, I stepped forward to engage Selig.
Joscelin Verreuil had not been inaccurate in his assessment—it was immediately apparent that Selig was a natural-born swordsman. He was quick for such a big man too. Any wrong move, any faltering on my part would almost certainly prove fatal. The noise and commotion of the battle around me faded until the world might’ve consisted of only the two of us. I kept on the offensive, not wanting to give him any opportunity to press an advantage. I managed to score a few hits on him, though nothing fatal. Unfortunately, he was able to do the same to me.
I pushed the pain of my wounds aside. In Camlach, we learn from a young age how to deal with pain, not to find pleasure in it as an anguissette would but to build tolerance for it. I’d been practicing weapons and riding in all kinds of weather since I was a child. We endure the cold and fight no matter how sore or exhausted we are. If Selig thought to wear me down this way, he would be sorely disappointed.
I studied him as we traded blows. He was good. He was very good.
I was better.
Even now, with me wounded in several places and hardly fresh, my Camaeline reflexes, honed over years of practicing the sword relentlessly, were just that little bit faster than his. He faltered for just a moment and I saw an opening. My sword found a gap in his armor.
Selig sank to his knees, gazing up at me in disbelief. Did he actually believe the tales that he was proof against weapons? If so, he went to his death disappointed. My strength at last gave way and I sank to my knees beside him, both hands gripping the hilt of my sword as I thrust it home.
It was done.
I was avenged. Terre d’Ange was saved. Anne and the child would be safe.
My hands lost their grip on the hilt of my sword and I collapsed. The end was near now. There was no more denying or postponing it. I would soon be in Kushiel’s realm, where I’d face the One God’s punisher and whatever justice he sought to serve me. And for the first time since I’d accepted my fate, I was afraid. I knew enough of Kushiel from my time with the Shahrizai to feel certain I was unlikely to receive much mercy from him. I tried to take comfort knowing my loved ones would not die at the hands of the Skaldi.
They would know I’d died a hero.
A nearby woman’s voice startled me out of my thoughts. “We are all alike, in the end, and none of us to be had merely for the taking.”
It took me a moment to place the voice, but when I did I couldn’t help but laugh. Here I was contemplating Kushiel as I lay dying, and his Chosen should appear before me. “Phèdre nó Delaunay,” I whispered, clutching at her hand, “I am afraid of your lord’s revenge.”
Confusion flashed over her face before realization dawned. She held a waterskin to my lips. “You have paid, my lord, and paid in full. And Kushiel sends no punishment we are not fit to bear.”
Her words were strangely comforting. I felt some of my fear dissipate and in the distance I heard the beating of bronze wings.
I drank the water she offered and took my last breath, surrendering my soul into Kushiel’s keeping.
**
Dear Anne,
By the time this letter reaches you, I will be dead. I can only hope that when you receive it you will also hear the news that I gave my life in service to Terre d’Ange. I go to my death with the knowledge that my sacrifice might serve to wash away my sins and that you and our child will live in a Terre d’Ange that is free and safe.
I know I have hurt you deeply and you are owed an explanation for my actions. A letter is an inadequate medium for such a thing. If I could see you one last time, I would try my best to offer an explanation. Since I am denied that, this letter will have to suffice. I was a fool, and allowed myself to be played for a fool by those I should’ve known better than to trust.
I owe you several apologies. To begin with, I should’ve kept you better than I did. Had I not been so occupied with my foolish plans, I’d have made you my official consort sooner. It pains me to know I’ve left both of you without the support you will need. I should have named our child heir to Lombelon. Mayhap it is pointless to dwell on such mistakes now, but I feel you should know how deeply I regret those mistakes and the consequences they will have for you.
Here at the end I find myself thinking on all the time we spent together. What we had I cherish with all my heart and there is no part to me that does not regret how my own deeds have cut our time short. Never doubt that I loved you, and our child too, with all my heart. I hope you too will look upon our time together fondly. I hope you might in time share some of those memories with our child.
I hope someday both of you can find it in your hearts to forgive me.
With all my love to you both,
Isidore