Silent Delivery
by Jamie K. Schmidt © 2007
Ignoring the fact that his feet were dangling sixty feet above the earth, Cedric strove to achieve a deep meditative level. The stone window sill was cold and hard beneath him. He exhaled slowly, counting to thirty before drawing another deep breath. The peace of the dawn was exhilarating even though he couldn't reach the pinnacle of consciousness. Far below him, in the courtyard overlooking the monastery's holdings, his fellow brothers did their morning exercises. Their cobalt blue cloaks and black pants melted together, an ebbing tide of colors. The farm workers on the endless green on green hills were harvesting this year's crops. Far in the distance, breakfast mass was just ending, bodies spilled out of the cathedral like drones from a hive. The constant flow of activity was comforting.
"Brother Fallontine!"
For a wild moment, Cedric thought he would topple over into the courtyard below him. The training of his order kicked in like an instinct and he calmed his heart and eased his tense muscles into submission.
"Good morning Father,” Cedric said dryly. A part of him wanted to shout the words, "Don't do that!", but Father Kessel would merely look at him with sorrow in his eyes, as if Cedric's missing discipline was Kessel's sole fault.
"I have a mission for you to fill."
Cedric eased his legs inside the room and forced acceptance into his stance. He kept his large sigh tightly locked deep within him. "Of course."
Father Kessel handed him a scroll satchel. "Please read the letter before you deliver it. . ."
"I know my duties." Cedric cut in and then clenched his fist at his lack of control.
Kessel continued as if he hadn't heard him. "You will need to track down one of two men. Quite possibly, they will be together in Aphias. They are the King's personal guards. It is also possible that they have gone into Althazar, Leche, or deep into the borderlands. You are my only Brother who has sufficient knowledge of these territories. I know it is a burden, but our Order has made a pledge to see this letter delivered."
Cedric stood up, turning to face the Father. "With respect, I have just returned from the border lands. I had hoped to refresh my soul before departing again."
"I would not ask it of you, if I didn't feel it was necessary."
"We're delivering political propaganda to the King's men?" Cedric asked scornfully.
Father Kessel frowned and left the room. "Please be on your way by noontime." The whisper of his sandals against the stone floor faded as he descended the staircase.
The room was suddenly chill and empty. Shivering, Cedric reached for his bright blue tunic which marked him as a Monk of the Celestian Order. He took a last longing look out the window and started to gather his things.
***
My dearest Fabian,
I'm writing this on the night before my execution, scribbling as fast as I can in the dim candlelight. Maybe I should have done this sooner, but I've never been so desperate to make you understand why I've become what I am. I guess I've always thought there would be time, or that you would come to your senses, or that I'd forget about you.
I tried to pretend your rejection didn't matter. That you were just another face in a crowd of men that have always used me and then threw me aside. I can still close my eyes and see you standing there on that cold October, five years ago. You stood at the gate and watched the King's guards carry me away, your noble face so cruel and twisted with hatred. Your warm brown eyes which used to caress me like honey over a scone were crackling like an autumn brush fire. The wind was blowing your cape behind you and you were an avenging God, wild and fierce. Your pain made me want to weep, and even though my throat was raw from screaming at you. I begged you to understand. Did you even hear me? I lost my voice for days after that. You never acknowledged that you heard my cries. Why didn't you at least let me explain why I bear the tattoo that proclaims me an assassin? I suppose it doesn't matter now. At dawn, the priests will bring me to the caves of Althazar and seal me inside. Will it please you to know that I will die slowly by starvation or suffocation? Will that appease your wronged sense of honor and balance the scales of justice in your mind? By God, Fabian, you will hear my story!
After you imprisoned me, a Celestian monk visited my cell. He agreed to deliver three copies of this letter. One will be handed to you. One will be handed to your best friend, Dragos. If you are too much of a coward to read a letter from your dead wife, Dragos will be instructed by the monk to read you this, in order to fulfill the last request of a dying Lady. Dragos takes honor almost as seriously as you. If he has to tie you down to read you this, I am confident he will. The third copy is payment for the monk's service. The Celestian Monastery will keep it in their vaults to be read by future generations. The only pleasure I can find in this situation is that although my body will die, my spirit will live as long as someone reads these words.
I have four tapers in front of me. Once they are burned down, I will have no choice but to wait in the dark for my execution. So, I will stop wasting time and tell you why have a black dagger painted in ink on my breast.
My childhood ended on the floor of my father's stable with two men raping me in the hay and horse dung. They buckled up their trousers, left me bleeding and half dead and then went to breakfast. Are you shocked, Fabian? You knew I wasn't a virgin when you married me. I don't know how long I stayed there, with the flies buzzing around me, because the next thing I remembered was my maid, Lexi, pulling my nightgown down over me and yanking me over her shoulder. I couldn't speak to her or even move to help her. She carried me up the back stairs, using the servants' entrances and passageways. She actually picked me up and shook me because I was not responding. Lexi laid me down in my own bed and went to fix a bath. I had felt myself going into a catatonia of terror that paralyzed me. I could only comprehend images: the smell of soap in Lexi's thick, black hair, the icy room even with the roaring fire, the down comforter and the aching pain of my body. I was losing myself in these sensations. The memories came crashing in next, of being woken up by rough hands, being dragged from my bed and into the stables. The pillow was so soft and cool and it felt so safe and familiar that it broke me out of my shock. I started to sob hysterically, my screams muffled against my bedding. Lexi let me cry myself into exhaustion before pulling the nightgown off me. She threw it in the fireplace and very gently washed my wounds.
The bath soothed me and I fell asleep. When I woke up, it was well into the afternoon. Lexi had told my father that I wasn't feeling well. She was only four years older than me, but she was experienced in ways my upbringing had sheltered me from. Lexi spent most of the day convincing me that it wasn't my fault. She was a large woman, muscled from her work in the stables. When she first became my maid, I was terrified of her. But that quickly faded and she was more like a big sister or a mother to me than a servant.
It was Lexi stopped me from throwing myself off the battlements that day. Fabian, I fought. But I was only fourteen, and I hadn't been trained in anything but flower arrangements and literature. I slapped and scratched and was about as effective as a gnat. Perhaps, my husband, you are one of those men who believe I should have killed myself because I had been disgraced. But I couldn't.
By dinner that night, I knew I couldn't face those two men. Would you like to know their names? I'll gladly condemn them for future generations. Viscount Miguel Mournealt was the aggressor. He was a fat, bloated nobleman who lived off the sweat and toil of his serfs. He smelled like garlic and sour wine. The second one was my father's man at arms, Drew Tangent. I loved Drew with all the passion of a young woman. I would have given freely to Drew what he took from me, if he only spared me a soft word or glance.
Anyway, Lexi brought my father up to see me in my room. I told him the entire story and I thought his heart would explode in anger. A vein twitched in his temple and his eyes grew black as soot. He stormed out and went bellowing throughout the castle. Lexi and I nearly collapsed in relief. About three hours later, my father summoned me to his study. I walked alone, comforted that he had run the villains through, or at the very least banished them from our house. His study was filled with leather bound books and pipe tobacco and the heads of dead philosophers.
But when I walked in the first thing I saw was the Viscount's corpulent body sitting in an armchair drinking my father's best brandy. The next instant, I was smashed to the floor with the force of my father's hand.
"Lying slut!" Was the only thing I heard him say, but Lexi told me later that he had been quite descriptive, blaming everything on my mother, who had been burned at the stake when I was five.
My mother had been accused of practicing black arts in order to seduce a priest of the High Order. I don't remember much of her. The only thing that anyone has ever said about her was that I could be her mirror image.
Once my father stopped beating me, he told me that I should stay on the ground and grovel in thankfulness that a man had agreed to overlook my wickedness and marry me. It seems Drew had convinced my father that we had been lovers and the other bastard, Viscount Mournealt, told my father that I had climbed into bed with him last night. I would have forgiven my father for believing that I had seduced Drew, because I sighed and mooned after him whenever he passed by me. Drew was young, strong and handsome. He would walk around without his shirt and I would stop breathing. But for my father to believe that I lusted for a human slug, whose body odor made me retch, was the final blow to my innocence.
I looked at the Viscount, who leered at me and kissed the top of my head as he left the room. "We'll enjoy many pleasurable nights like last night, my bride," was what he said to me. Lexi caught me as I fainted.
I know what you are thinking, Fabian. You're thinking that Brynna Desmond never fainted in her entire life. Well, that goes to show you how little you knew about me. I remember the first time I saw you. You were standing there in the green tabard of the King's elite guards and I was one of his majesty's guests. I was wearing white silk and you told me that I looked like an angel, and then asked me to dance. You were so dashing, I thought you could hold off the border patrols single handed. I figured I could have a brief fling with you and leave with pleasant memories. After all, you looked to be a mercenary and I was a Lady. It was only later I found out that you would inherit your Father's dukedom after his death. You had been testing me to see if I could love you for yourself and not your money. I should have learned my lesson and ran before you touched my soul and melted my heart with the possessiveness of your love.
But all your love turned to hate, didn't it? So I will continue on with the story of my downfall. Lexi made sure to drug both the Viscount's and Drew's wine that night, so that they would leave me alone. I knew what I had to do. In with my mother's things were two jeweled hair pins, but they were thick enough to be used as stilettos. Killing the Viscount was easy. I slipped into his room and ended his pathetic life by jamming the knife through his throat. He made a gurgling sound as he choked on his own blood and died.
Drew was more difficult. He lay above his covers naked and looked like a perfect statue. I could only look at him. My hands were bloody from the Viscount and reaction was starting to set in. I tried hard to hold on to my hate. I sat on the edge of the bed and cried. It was the last time in my life I let myself break down. Does it bother you, Fabian, that I would not cry for you, but I blubbered over a rapist who would gladly harm me again? In the end, it was Lexi who took the hair pin from me and slaughtered Drew while he slept.
She and I ran away that night. We filled up a carriage with all of our possessions and joined up with her family's wagon a few miles from the castle. She told me that she always wanted to be a Lady and I told her I always wanted to be a gypsy. And so began a new chapter of my life. My father had a warrant sworn out for my arrest. Did you know you had married an outlaw? Of course not.
Now, Fabian, let me ask you a question that only your soul can answer. After hearing my story, would you have killed the Viscount? And even if you had, you would not have had the mark of the assassin imprinted on your body. But because I was a woman, because I dared to seek my own revenge, because I had no one to defend me, I was condemned.
I'm on my second candle now, it's not quite midnight and I can still hear the revelries from the Inn down the road. I wonder if you are there dancing with the wenches and getting drunk with Dragos. Or perhaps you are staring at the sky and thinking of me. I can't decide. I suppose it won't really matter by the time you read this, so I'll continue with my story.
At fourteen, I was initiated into the gypsy camp. They taught me how to steal and dance and to use magic. I was happier there than I ever have been in my entire life. I no longer had to study to become a Great Lady. I could swim naked and hawk talismans in country fairs. I stayed with Lexi and her family for three years before I was captured by bounty hunters.
Looking back, I could have disguised myself better. After all, how many gypsies have my white blond hair and pale skin? Although, I think it was my eyes that gave me away. You've said they were like chips of ebony. But maybe the hunters would have found me even if I were disguised. You see, I fell in love with a gypsy prince. His name was Rafael, and he was everything I needed to forget my past. He was gentle and passionate and his spirit was as free as the wind.
He was the one who gave me my gypsy name, Eagle. Rafe had jet black hair and snapping brown eyes. He was an expert at hand to hand combat and taught me to defend myself with and without a knife. Many women were jealous of the time we spent together. Some even feared that he would make me, an aristocrat, his princess. I didn't have many friends. In fact Lexi was the only one who stood by me. If you have any softness for me left in your heart, will you let her know what has happened tome and help ease her in her grief? She was the only one who loved me as I was. The only one to whom I entrusted my secrets.
I was purse snatching in the marketplace of Leche, when the bounty hunters caught me. I tried to run, but they closed me in. I took down two before they jumped me and carried me off in a bag. Rafe would have been proud of me. I was convicted, branded and sentenced to hang. They threw me into a filthy cell where I awaited trial. But I was rescued as they brought me out to the scaffold.
Rafe had arranged Figar Melinga and his border troops to kill and replace my guards. They taught me how to cast an illusion of myself being hanged and once that was in place they promised to bring me to safety. The plan was to spirit me away afterwards before anyone noticed that the original guards were gone. The spell was very difficult. I almost died holding it for so long and when I could finally release it, I passed out and didn't wake up for many days.
The next thing I knew I was in Islandia, capital of the border lands. Figar trained me to be a spy for them and since I owed them my life, I willingly gave my allegiance. Yes, my dear Fabian, you married a traitor to the crown you serve. But I am not a traitor. I'm a patriot. I guess it just matters on which side of the border you stand on. You see, you were never part of the bargain. After five years of studying espionage and renewing the training of my youth, the border lords replaced my wild Eagle soul with the cool, calculating woman that you met on the King's dance floor. I was given the finest dresses and jewels and taught coquetry. It installed in me a hard cynicism that I have never been able to shake. I thought I was immune to feelings and that my heart was frozen and then you came along.
Why couldn't you have just been content to be my lover? But no, you had to tempt me with visions of children and a home filled with warmth. I resigned from Figar's service and from the day you married me and for the few months of our marriage, I never missed the action or intrigue. Our lovemaking had always been in the dark, so you never noticed the tattoo until you walked in on my bath one day. I had never seen a man that angry. Your anger rivaled even my father's rage. I'm surprised that you let me dress before you threw me out. Now that you have heard my story, would it have stopped you from turning me over to the government? Could you have turned the other cheek and trusted me? Would it have ever been the same? You sent me away without a thought. I could have been carrying our child. Maybe, I was Fabian. Something for you to think on during the winters of your life.
Well, obviously I didn't hang in your King's prison. But, I was not rescued this time either. I decided to bargain what I knew about the borderlands and Figar for my freedom. It was granted and the seneschal brought me to the court in Aphias to tell my story. It was better than the dungeon, but a prison is still a prison no matter how pretty the trappings. I adjusted and amused myself with the court fops and their petty squabbles. I could tell you who was sleeping with whom and for how long. Some of it would surprise you. I spent two boring years mincing with chieftains and seducing information out of court officials. It was then decided that I could be of better use to them out in the field.
They sent me back to Figar as a double agent. I married and then killed him through orders of your King. Figar was an ignorant little man who had become so corrupt that his passing was a blessing for the border kingdoms. The irony of the situation is that if your King had put the pressure on the little worm, he would have buckled and joined forces with him against the other border lords. But I was following orders. I wasn't being paid for my expert council, just an assassination. I slipped poison into his drink and became a wealthy widow. Of course, I was still married to you, but your King wasn't too concerned with legal matters when he sent me on my mission.
No one suspected me and I was tempted to remain there, but I know my limitations. I don't have the gift for rule. I gave the throne to my brother-in-law, Ignan, and returned to Aphias to receive my orders from your King. My next assignment was to kill Bishop Tremain. He was inspiring too many of the peasants into thinking that they were human beings. The King couldn't have that, now could he? Perhaps, I should have no love of the church after what they did to my mother, but the Bishop was a likable man. Too involved with the sins of the flesh, but he was only human. I sent him back to Ignan and then faked evidence of his death. I was sick of being the double agent in this petty war for land and power. Neither of which I would ever see. Treman and Ignan were honorable and likeable men and I decided to work solely for them.
It's nearing dawn. I can hear the crickets scraping their legs together and making music. The tavern has become silent and I'm still wondering what you are doing. I was hurt that you never inquired after me. But the look on your face yesterday was like you had seen a ghost. You thought I had been executed. Yesterday, I was delivering news of troop advancement and their numbers back to Ignan and Tremain. I saw the green tabards of your men, as you rode up to intercept me. I shot one as he reached for the door of my coach. I knifed the one who entered the coach first and snapped the arm of the one who dragged me out. I don't know which one of us was more surprised when they yanked my hood off as I was forced to my knees in front of you. Congratulations on your promotion to Captain, my husband.
I saw the conflict in your eyes. You wanted to tell your men to get their hands off me, yet you knew that if you confessed you were my husband you'd be disgraced. I've kept your name, but I don't believe anyone would connect the two of us. After all, how many men have let their wives be sentenced to die twice in the same lifetime.
I can see the predawn light on the horizon. I guess my death is at hand. Maybe Ignan and Tremain have heard about my plight by now, but it will be too late for anyone to help. Too many years have passed for Rafe to come to my rescue. I don't even know if he is still alive. Your King thinks that I will be of better use to him dead, as an example. If you were the man I have loved in my heart, you would show up about now take me into your arms and whisk me away to safety. You have always been my hero. Each of my lovers has always had a quality that you possess, even before I met you.
Fabian, how could you let them do this to me? Has your nobility kept you warm these five years? Do you caress your ethics during the night? Your honor has always stood between us like a wall. I used to think our opposing viewpoints added spice to a story book romance. But you are so damn stubborn! Why can't you accept me and change? Accept the fact that things are not always black and white. I have lived in a shade of gray since the day I ran away from my home. Can't you shed the blinders of what you think is right and wrong and see me as a whole? Is it worth the desolation that I saw in your eyes? You have been given a second chance to live your life with me. I know you regret sending me away. Not everyone has this chance. Couldn't you sneak back to the caves tonight and release me?
What am I saying? By the time you read this or have this read to you, I will be dead. Maybe my magic can sustain me long enough for Islandia to mount an offense to release me, as if they'd risk a full out war after all this time over one woman. But, Troy fell for the similar reasons, why not Aphias? Or maybe, I'm just arrogant. Perhaps, Fabian, you and I will meet again on this earth. If not, I'm sure I'll see you in Hell.
Forever yours,
Brynna Eagle Desmond
***
Cedric smiled grimly into the dusk and quickened his pace. After six long months, he was home again. Father Kessel would not only be proud of him for completing his assignment, but along the way three more people had given the Celestian Order their stories to contribute to history. The Order's vaults contained the history of people, instead of being stockpiled with material riches. The monks protected the knowledge contained within them.
Tracking down Fabian Desmond hadn't been difficult at all. When he wasn't at court in Aphias, Cedric checked Althazar. He found Fabian kneeling by her tomb with Dragos looking after him. Although Cedric made sure he was miles away, he heard Fabian's sobs and probably would for the rest of life. Dragos had tried to sneak up on Cedric as he slept that night and was given a lesson in why the monks were feared as fighters as well as holy messengers. Dragos merely wanted to donate a story of his time with the King's guards to repay Cedric for his diligence. That would have been worth the journey in itself. However, the day after that, a gypsy had dropped two scrolls by Cedric's clothes while he bathed in the water. It had been from Rafe and Lexi who were also paying homage to Cedric for his work on Brynna's behalf. And the best part of that was that he didn't have to deliver these to anyone but Father Kessel.
The monastery was so close now that it blocked the setting sun and the air filled with the vesper chants. Cedric allowed himself to think of the long hot bath with which he would treat himself that night. Cedric did not see the young man until he was directly in front of him. Startled, Cedric slipped his full scroll bag off his shoulders and assumed a ready position. Cedric was prepared to fight. He raised an eyebrow in challenge.
"Are you the monk who delivered a letter to Fabian Desmond of Aphias?"
Cedric nodded, bowed deeply and retrieved the bag from the ground.
"You are well known in the border lands as an honorable man and a fierce adventurer." The young man hurried to catch up with Cedric who had started to walk away. "Are you the Cedric that the bards sing about?"
Cedric rolled his eyes and nodded.
"They wouldn't let me inside your monastery to wait for you. I wanted to give you this." The young man wiped his white blond hair out of his ebony eyes and handed him a journal.
Cedric's eyes widened the young man and then at the book. He accepted it reverently.
“Did you ever meet Lady Desmond?”
He bowed his head and shook it sadly.
"If you had known her you would understand why she was admired. I know you can't tell me what she wrote to him about, but can you at least tell me if she finally found peace?"
Cedric shrugged sadly. He didn't know. Perhaps the answer was in the bag of scrolls, perhaps it wasn't. That was just the way of things.
The man sighed. "My prince asked me to find out."
Cedric cocked his head at the young man, wondering. Well, anything was possible. He was a handsome boy, just starting his first beard. On his tabard was an eagle with a sword in his talons. Bowing again, Cedric waved his hand in blessing over the boy. Then turned and opened the large gates of the monastery and locked them closed behind him. He turned to look at the man who was still standing outside the monastery.
"The book is the history of the border lands written by Tremain of Islandia."
Cedric stared at the man in pleasant shock and delight.
"You can keep this for yourself or give it to your Order. We trust you will not hand it over to the King.”
Cedric solemnly shook his head. He held the book to his chest and crossed his fist over the cover.
The messenger understood and suddenly grinned. "Do you really travel into other worlds and dimensions collecting stories for the monks?"
Cedric smiled kindly and shook his head. He rolled his eyes again and raised his hands to the sky in supplication.
"Well, I guess that stuff is just legend. Good bye! And thank you!"
As soon as Cedric had turned his back on the young man, the smile drained off his face. If word ever got back to Father Kessel that they were attributing traveling to Cedric, he would be punished for his lack of discretion. The rumors probably were started by that pesky bard he had met inside that cross warp out by the borderlands the last time he was there. It was a good thing the Father never left the monastery's grounds. And even if he did find out, chances were that Cedric would be off on another mission and Father Kessel would have forgotten about it by the time he came back home. Cedric perked up and entered the main building to the library.
The End