Sword of Stone

CHAPTER ONE-2

“Yes, I have heard the whispers,” she conceded. “But the Queen has been suffering from the wasting disease for a month; this could have caused her to have the babe early.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She did not seem to be bothered by the stench.

The infant started to squirm and squeak like a rat trapped in a sack of wheat. He turned and quickly walked over to one of the big windows, opening the thick, wavy panes of glass. The fire rose up, and a gust of cool air blew into the room. He sucked in the crisp, salty air as if he was just breaking the surface of a bottomless ocean. The sound of the angry waves of the great Carnaid Sea as they pounded the rocky beach below, spilled into the stuffy room. The smell of salt and fish replaced the scent of blood and feces. The cold wind dried the sweat on his face and ruffled the ends of his drying hair. The rain had passed, leaving the air cleansed as the eastern horizon shown a tinge of gray, the promise of a morning soon to come. He had to get this over with before the castle’s inhabitants began to stir. The servants would be waking soon.

He turned to Laura and steeled himself. “You must take the boy right away.”

“Take him? Take him where?” She was incredulous.

“Give him to a friend or a family member; I care not. Makes sure he is far away!”

Your Highness, how can you suggest such a thing?” Her face had gone white. “He is but a babe! ‘Tis not right for him to suffer for the sins of his mother, if sin she had.”

Flath quickly walked up to Laura making her take a few steps back. “I will not claim this boy as my heir!” he roared. “Would you have me send him back to Yellow Island and chance another war that the Archigos will not aid us in this time?”

“Sire, what shall you have me do?” She hugged the child to her breast.

Flath was silent for a moment, then sighed deeply. Tenderly, he pushed stray hairs from her face. “Laura, you have always been a faithful servant to me, and the rebellion, your work during the war can never be fully repaid, I am always indebted to you. But I ask this one more thing of you.” Suddenly he could see the defeat in her eyes.

“What would my liege have me do?” she asked in a quiet voice.

Thank the gods! “Take the babe out of Sona Tuath and find him a home. Perhaps you have a family member that has just lost a child that would give the boy a good home? Take a wet nurse if you may, give her gold, or whatever she wants. Tell her he is the illegitimate son of a rich merchant or perhaps one of the newly appointed lords. Above all, use discretion and care, this must not become known. I will tell the people that the babe was stillborn and was so hideous that he could not be buried in our manner for he was ill-shapen to look upon.”

Laura’s eyes were glassy, and her face was still pale, but he could not discern what she was thinking. His heart was pounding in his chest, and even the roar of the waves outside was diminished by the sound of his blood rushing in his ears. His hands were clammy as he pushed a moment of doubt from his mind. This is the way it must be. “Will you again swear your fealty to the throne, First Surgeon of Castle Sona Tuath, Laura Felden?” He hoped his using her title would have a more dramatic effect.

“I swear my fealty to king and crown and country, Your Highness.” She reached out and grabbed his hand, turned it over and placed her moist lips upon his father’s signet ring…his signet ring. She let go of his hand, then went to an overstuffed chair by the large wooden door. Still holding the boy in one arm, she draped her cloak over her shoulders. “I will make up a story and leave the boy at my niece’s house for a few days; her daughter is not yet weaned. That will give me enough time to find the boy a home.”

Flath crossed the room and tenderly kissed her hand. “You are my friend Laura, and I thank you.” She smiled up at him bleakly then covered the babe with her thick cloak. “I will be back soon after sunrise,” she said and quickly left the room.

Flath walked over to Jocelyn’s bed and looked down at the girl. Her face had gone lax, and the sheen of sweat had long dried. He noticed that her cheeks were sunken, and her head looked much bigger than it had when he last saw her. A dull pain of guilt washed over him again, and his throat began to tighten. He would not cry for such a heartless, conniving girl!

Timidly, he reached down and touched her cheek, almost jerking his hand away at the hard, cold flesh under his fingers. Her once small breasts had swollen in expectation of a child. They gave him no pleasure in life and sickened him to look upon now. Not knowing why, he lightly drew his finger down the swell of one almost expecting her to flinch. His hand strayed down to the long gash across her belly and found that even the grizzly wound had cooled. Carefully, he cupped her delicate hand, but it did not yield to his grasp. Finally, he let go of his wife’s hand and covered her with the blood smeared linen, then walked across the room and sat down in a chair to await Laura’s return.

***

Laura Felden ran down the long, narrow corridor that led from the servant’s quarters to one of the lesser used back doors. The child had not made a sound since she had left the queen’s bedchamber and she feared he might be dead. That would make things easier for the king, she thought bitterly, then cursed herself. She had sworn fealty to King Basilias, and the way she was feeling was no less than treasonous. Still, what he did was thoughtless and immature. She thought he looked like a boy who got caught in the pie safe when he was scheming how to get rid of a babe that might or might not be the heir of Sona Tuath. She took in a deep breath of the cool, salt-laden air as she reached the door and quickly left the castle.

Laura did not stop at the stable to ask the attendants to ready her carriage. Instead, she hastened out of the castle gate with no more than a passing nod to the young guard on duty. Her dead husband’s niece did not live far. Laura pulled her cloak tighter as a cold fog started to roll off the Carnaid Sea. The rhythmic pounding of the waves almost lulled her into complacency as she headed toward Sonja’s cottage. How would she explain this infant and her need to leave it in her care for a few days? The woman was not stupid. She would probably have suspicions at the very least. Sonja was a shrewd woman and a might greedy, but she was the only woman she knew who was both nursing and would not refuse the surgeon. The young woman’s family ties were not strong, and she had detested her uncle, but she remained kindly towards Laura after the old surgeon had died.

A muffled cry startled Laura and reminded her that she, in fact, was holding an infant barely come to this world. “Hush, hush,” she soothed the babe in a soft voice. She worried that he did not cry out in a stronger voice and was not insistent towards her breast. She wondered if the child would even live to be taken out of the capital city of Sona Tuath. The sun had just started to peak over the dark horizon of the Carnaid Sea. She was thankful the storm had blown away. It will soon be summer, she thought distractedly as they hurried down the cobblestoned road still slick from the rain.

Laura traveled down the row of fabric and linen vendors and then turned down a broader street that held the food vendors and then a little further down was Trinket Row, as it was called. Every strange and magical thing in Beaynid could be found there. Oh, it was not as extensive as Tel ‘Rhea’s novelty market, but it was not as lacking as some markets she had seen. Finally, she reached Sonja’s cottage on the fringe of Merchant Square. As she had hoped, no lamp burned inside—she did not want to interrupt business. Laura hesitated for a moment, then rapped loudly on the door. The babe stirred at the jarring motion and started to cry in earnest, maybe her worries about his health were unfounded. Finally, the heavy door opened. No candle burned within, so she could not see a face in the blackness.

“Aunt Laura, what brings you here at this time of the morning?” a low voice spoke from the dark.

“I am so sorry to wake you, dear, but I have a favor I must ask of you. May I come in?” The boy squawked in her arms.

“Of course,” Sonja said as she opened the door wider to let her aunt enter. “I will make us some tea, Auntie.”

“Thank you.” Sonja was wearing a thin nightdress and her cottage smelled of incense and a sweet flower she could not identify. Laura took a seat next to the fire that Sonja began to k****e, and it did not take long before the fire built back up. The young woman quickly swung the kettle of water over the fire to boil. The infant gave a loud cry and Laura folded her cloak back to look at the boy.

“Oh! So, this is the favor you come to ask of me.” Sonja smiled and kneeled to get a closer look at the babe. “’Tis so tiny!”

“Yes, yes. His mother was a slip of a girl. Very young.” There, Laura was not lying, for, in fact, the queen was a small woman.

Sonja looked up into Laura’s face. “What has become of the mother, then?” Her pale brow rose in question.

“His mother is dead.” She could not bring herself to say any more. Sonja stood up and took the boy from her aunt. She smiled down at him and even from the weak light of the fire Laura saw the tenderness in her niece’s eyes. “I have come to ask you to look after the boy for a few days.”

Sonja looked at her aunt and tilted her head a bit. “Where is the father?” she asked warily.

“He, uh, well, he is one of the young nobles that the king has newly installed. You see, the mother was a servant in his home and…” Laura hoped her niece could not see the lie on her face.

“Ah, well.” Sonja looked back to the infant and smiled. “So, you are a little bastard born, huh? We should get along just fine then.” She sat down in the seat next to Laura, quickly opened the front of her gown and put the babe to one of her breasts. He sucked eagerly, and Laura let out a sigh of relief.

“I hope he will not disrupt business…”

“Oh no, my customers are used to seeing little Tiff around. Men usually do not take that long to finish. This little one will be fine.” Laura blushed and was glad for the semi-darkness. Sonja had been a prostitute for years, but Laura still felt the sting of embarrassment at the mention of her profession. She wondered how the woman could talk so openly about it. She had never married, as those of her kind usually did not, and she had not shown any real aptitude for any honest work. She guessed whoring just came natural to her, if that sort of thing was natural. She worried for three-year-old Tiff, but Sonja provided well for the girl. She always had new dresses and toys, and though not one of the largest dwellings in Sona Tuath, Sonja’s cottage was well built and furnished very comfortably. She had even hired a tutor for the little girl. If her niece knew who her daughter’s father was, she never said, but Laura had come to realize that it really did not matter.

“The water is boiling, let me make the tea.” Laura took a mitten and removed the kettle. She looked around the cupboards until she found tea and two cups, then carefully poured the water over the tea. “So, you do not mind if I leave him here for a few days?” she asked as she took the honey from the pantry then brought it and the tea to the table beside them.

“Oh no, I do not mind, in fact, I am grateful. Tiff is getting older now, too old for the breast. I feel lonely oft times. I know ‘tis silly, Tiff is only three, and I certainly do not need another child around, but sometimes a woman just needs without reason.” Sonja looked up from the nursing infant and smiled dreamily at her aunt. Laura was not quite convinced. She thought Sonja might also be lonely for some juicy gossip. “His father is a lord, you said?”

“Aye, from a town south of here, I did not ask just which one.” Laura spooned honey into Sonja’s tea and pushed the cup over to the woman who brushed a lock of her golden hair out of her face and took the cup.

“How did you come to know of this child’s mother?”

Laura stared, feeling uneasy. “She worked in the kitchen in the castle. Apparently, this lord’s wife threw her out when she found out that the girl was pregnant.” Laura shrugged. “So, she came to find work in town.” Laura tried to sound casual.

“It seems strange that the First Surgeon would attend such a low woman.” Sonja smiled over her teacup and then took a sip.

“The other surgeons were with patients dying of the wasting disease. They did not want to leave their patients just to see to this, low woman, as you put it.” Laura pushed herself to be bold. She knew Sonja was fishing for information.

“Oh, yes. Well, she was quite lucky to have you there.”

“Not really, she did die,” Laura said bluntly, almost remorsefully as she thought of the young queen who lay dead in her bedchamber.

“Poor girl.” Sonja put her teacup back down and looked again at the infant at her breast. “Poor girl, indeed, to not have looked upon her beautiful child.”

Laura smiled, this would work out just fine.