Chapter 21

[cosette7]

Chapter Twenty-One

"Chain him to that wall,” Thorvald flipped his hand toward the stone forming the south wall of the room and tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for the soldiers to finish. He watched them struggle with the big man and sighed. It was all so frustrating, even boring at times, dealing with this common filth.
Finally the large, red haired man was properly restrained, arms outstretched against the stone, feet also. It had taken several soldiers to get him to this point, including one who now had a broken nose, thanks to being kicked in the face by the commoner’s heavy boot.

"Thorvald!" The man now bellowed, jerking against the chains. "Do your worst! I care not! You cannot defeat us all!"

Tiresome. Uncouth and loud. "Oh, but I can,” Thorvald replied, consciously making his voice dignified in contrast to the dirty commoner. "I can and I will. Soon. And you are going to help me."

"I will not! Kill me, you evil excuse for a duke! I welcome it!" He rattled the chains and spat towards Thorvald.

"You'll get your wish, after I am finished with you. You see, you are going to help me. And since I know you care for the foul young thing named Ostergaard, it will be all the more delicious watching you do it."

Thorvald tried to ignore the man’s protestations. “Yes, yes, I know, you refuse to help me, and I’m an evil, selfish monster, yes, yes,” he said. “And you are becoming very tiresome. Karl, hand me your staff.”

Karl looked up, startled. “My staff, my lord? But…first, do you not want your lutar?”

“No, I'm not bothering with that, not for this one." Thorvald took up the staff and leveled it at the man on the wall. "If he is damaged, it does not matter." He laid the end of the staff against the man's chest. The man heaved forward against the chains, and Thorvald drove him back with the staff, speaking the words of the spell. When he finished, he threw his head back and laughed. At last! Yes, things had gone wrong before, and yes, he thought he had things under control and been mistaken, but not this time! This man would give him the boy, and his plans would be complete.
He looked at the man, who now drooped weakly in the shackles. "Filth! Where is all your defiance now?" The man raised his head enough to glare with burning eyes at his captor.

"Luckily for you, the spell does not allow me to compel you to love me. It does not work that way. I will have to content myself with your obedience- and your worship."

"Worship!" the man cried angrily, although his face was now pale and sweaty and it appeared that if the chains were not supporting him, he would have collapsed in a heap on the floor. "Never! Abomination! I will not!"

Thorvald merely smiled. The man appeared to have weathered the spell sufficiently. That was good. In a fit of temper he had administered the spell without the buffering music first, and although he pretended that it didn't matter it would have been quite sad to lose such a weapon.

"Oh, but you will. And since you seem unsure about that, let us have a little practice. Release him," he said to the guards. The guards stepped up quickly, and opened the locks on the shackles protruding from the wall. The man stumbled forward a step, and then sank trembling to his knees.
“What is your name, vermin?”

The man struggled visibly, shaking his head. He puffed and blew, his already ruddy face turning redder and redder.

“Speak now.”

“Steen Nilssen.” He blurted.

“Who do you serve?”

Steen looked murderous, but he growled, “Lord Thorvald.”

“There now. You are beginning to see the way of it. You must obey me…you are compelled to obey me, no matter how you might feel about it personally.” Thorvald walked up to Steen, still kneeling on the floor, and bent over so his face was on a level with him. “Listen well. I will never, ever forgive you for taking the Lady Annaka from me. That cannot be repaired. However, you will spend the rest of your life trying to make it up to me, no matter that you cannot win my approval or affection, whether you are successful or not. You will bring her back, and you will bring me Ostergaard.”

“Believe me when I say I care nothing at all for your approval or affection,” Steen snorted. “I do not know how, but somehow, somehow, I will resist you.”

Thorvald laughed. “A fine wish. You may keep your wish. You may feel whatever you want about the tasks I give you, as long as you do them. Which, of course, you have no choice about. Now. Your tasks are very important to me, more important than anything else. Yes, I want the Lady Annaka very badly to be returned to the palace. But even more than that, I want Alek Ostergaard and his so-called right to the crown dead.”

“Right to the crown!” spluttered Steen. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

“Oh, you know, the whole bothersome thing…the king will be hidden, the king will be revealed, you know. I’m sure even you low, common vermin know about that.”

“Are you saying you want Alek dead because you think he is supposed to be king? Alek?” Steen was incredulous.

“As a matter of fact, yes. Do you mean he never told you? I assumed he was lording this over all his terrible little peasant friends.”

Steen laughed bitterly. “Alek is no king, although he would make a better one than you, I have no doubt.”

Thorvald kicked Steen in the head, his boot leaving a gash across his chin, and Steen fell over sideways on the stone floor. “When I said you could keep your opinions, I did not mean you could be rude or disrespectful. Remember that.” Steen cradled his face in his hands, attempting to work his jaw. “Yes, I know it is hard to believe. I find it absurd myself. But it seems he has the mark of the king, whether or not he should. I will be king, not that peasant filth, and I, not he, will have the power of the king.”

The power of the king! Steen thought quickly, and the odd occurences of the past few weeks started to slip into place, like the pieces of a blacksmith's puzzle. Alek Ostergaard! Long before he ever saw Alek do any of those strange things he had wondered about the young man. In some ways he was like many others who came to the Band, determined, anxious about the future, willing. But there was always something peculiar about him that Steen had never quite been able to put his finger on before. For one thing, Einar and the northerner duke seemed to have singled Alek out. Einar was an old friend of the Ostergaards, but it was something more than that. Alek had tried to become one with the Band, but at the same time seemed alone, with his own private reasons for joining. When Steen put that all together with Alek's fantastical abilities, beginning with Gil riding into camp with the extremely odd news that Thorvald was looking for Alek personally, he could see there was something there, as incredible as it sounded.
Gil! How long ago that day seemed now, when Gil volunteered to become a servant in Thorvald's household, a hidden set of eyes for the Band. He had served them well indeed and now he was dead, killed as they fought to keep the soldiers from following Alek and Annaka into the forest. Dead! Well, Steen wished they had killed him as well, instead of taking him prisoner.

Soldiers lifted Steen under his arms until he stood on unsteady feet, and even as his mind searched for a way to circumvent the compulsion, Thorvald motioned for them to wait a moment.

“You will not harm me. You will not hinder my plans. You will not tell anyone you are under any kind of magical control. You will obey me completely and without question.” Each phrase Thorvald spoke seemed to settle across his mind like layers and layers of heavy velvet, blanketing out all his hopes for resistance.

Somehow he must warn Einar and the Band! They must be alerted, before they would come to harm by his own hand.

Britta sat in a chair before the fireplace, watching her husband pace back and forth across their bedchamber floor. It hadn’t been too hard to figure out what was the matter with Joachim once she thought about it and she could hardly bear to look at him now, knowing the awful truth. He had not been able to confirm or deny it when she confronted him, but even a village idiot could see the signs if you knew how to look. It was not because she blamed him that she could scarcely bear to look at him - she knew this had been done to him against his will. He was so changed, though, and it was heartbreakingly hard to see.

Well, he looked the same, except for the scowl and deep hurt behind his eyes. He looked so handsome in his traveling clothes as he strode back and forth. He was wearing a red tunic, made of fine wool and embroidered with gold thread around the hem and sleeves, with black woolen trousers tucked into his fine riding boots. Over his shoulders was a heavy red cloak, trimmed with the long, soft hairs of a black winter fox and secured with a large pin at his throat. His shoulder-length, dark brown hair was combed straight back from his forehead and waved around his ears, and his beard, grown only around his mouth and chin, was trimmed neatly. But even if he looked like the same man she had married, had born a son to, he was everlastingly different. He would not speak to her unless it was required. He would not even look at her, and although she knew in her heart it was none of her doing, it was terribly upsetting. She had not realized how much she enjoyed their conversation, their companionship, their confidence in each other. She had not given much thought before to how she felt about him, and now when she saw him so wounded, it pierced her through. And the fact that he was wounded for her sake made her ache all the more.

At least she had her baby back. Frederik lay sleeping in her arms, where he remained nearly every moment of the day now. She could not bear to put him down, not now. He seemed to have weathered the day away from his mother adequately, but Britta began weeping and shaking whenever she thought of it. She was grateful, although a little surprised that they actually had given him back to her, even though she did every evil thing they asked. They were wicked enough to break their promises, that was clear.

Their servants were nearly finished packing their belongings into wooden trunks, and several had already been taken down to the stableyard where they were being loaded onto wagons. It was breathtaking how fast Joachim had decided they were returning to their home in Skjagen. Usually he would dither about a trip for a few days, set a date sometime in the future, and the servants would have plenty of time to gather things together for the journey some weeks off. This time he had simply come into their rooms, announced to whoever happened to be there that they were leaving Roskilde immediately. Within the day. It was shocking, but the servants had done their best to pack everything as quickly as possible, and they had done an admirable job. Normally Britta would have complained long and loud about leaving the court for their cold home far away in the north, but there was no point in arguing with Joachim when he was like this. Besides, she did not want to stay, not now. Everyone was leaving, and if the truth were told she wanted to get as far away from the blackcloaks as possible. She never wanted to see any of those pasty-faced devils again.

She shuddered, thinking of the one who interrogated her, his leering face half covered by lank reddish hair. She could hardly believe he had not put that wicked spell on her, and although she puzzled and puzzled about it she could not think of a reason he had not. Although she wept with relief it had not happened, it did not make sense. If only Joachim had been so lucky. How could he ever, ever be free of it? Could those infernal blackcloaks reverse their spells? If they could, how could they be induced to do such a thing? She was sure they did nothing that was not to their advantage. She could not stop her mind whirling away, trying to puzzle out a way that freeing Joachim could be considered an advantage to those vermin.
She remained sitting there wrapped in her thoughts, until the last trunk was picked up between two servants and awkwardly levered through the doorway. Her maidservant approached with her cloak and a fur robe to wrap the baby in, and she stood and allowed it to be draped around her shoulders without truly noticing.

“Give the baby to the maidservant to carry,” Joachim said gruffly. “You know better than to be seen carrying him through the palace hallways. That would be unseemly.” He walked out of the room, his red cloak swirling behind him, and Britta hurriedly placed the warm bundle in the maidservant’s arms. She hesitated, wanting to hurry after Joachim, but in the end walked beside the maidservant, stilling her hands at her sides so they would not reach out to touch Frederik as they passed through the hallways to the stableyard.

Soon they would be on their way, traveling the Great Road to the north. Britta hoped that somehow leaving this place would be better for Joachim, that the further he got from those wicked men the easier it would be for him to be his old self. Traveling to Skjagen at this time of year was unheard of, but everything these days was not the way it should be. It seemed the world had turned on its head.

In that part of the morning that is very cold and dark, Alek and Annaka rode quietly into Einar’s campsite, the horse’s hooves rustling in the dry leaves that lay everywhere on the ground. They had hardly spoken as they traveled from the palace to the Band’s secret camping place, both out of a need to move quietly and from a feeling of shock. Alek felt confused, as confused and mixed up as he had ever been since all this began. It seemed the more he used his power the more readily it came to hand, and in the most unexpected ways. It both frightened and excited him, but he knew he must learn to control it before someone he cared about was harmed. Before anyone was harmed!

It seemed there was something about this power that strove against being used for harm. When he thought back on all that happened as they took Annaka from the dungeon, his head ached dully and his vision began washing out again in a blur of whiteness. He forced the thoughts away and the whiteness subsided, leaving only the ache behind his eyes. What was this blindness? He shook his head sharply as he slid from the horse’s back. Everything was confusing and difficult enough before that began. He held a gloved hand up to Annaka and she landed lightly beside him, looking up at him in the darkness of the woods.

“Thank God you are safe,” he said quietly. He struggled for more words but nothing would come. How brave she is, he thought. She has no idea where she is or anything about the people she must now trust herself to. How different her life will be from this moment on!

Annaka stood without moving, her face calm in the moonlight. “I prayed you would stay away, away from Thorvald’s trap,” she said slowly. “Still, you came, and I cannot believe how it all happened.” She took one step, and suddenly she was very near him, laying a hand on his arm. “Thank you, Alek. Alek! The walls of the dungeon - how -“

Alek repressed a shiver and blinked his eyes at the whiteness trying to edge inwards. “My lady, we will have to speak of this later,” he said. “I must see to the horse and find out if Steen and Gil have returned yet. Will you come with me? To be honest, I am not sure what to do with you,” he laughed softly. “There are no other ladies in the camp that I know of, and everyone is asleep.”

“Let me hold him, and you can do what needs doing.” she replied, taking the reins from Alek’s hand. He smiled and began unbuckling the cinch of the saddle.

“Alek, what happened to the dungeon?” Annaka asked, keeping her voice quiet. “I heard you call to me, and then the walls began to shake. Before I knew it, the walls had fallen in. There you were, with Steen and the other man - but Alek, how did you do it? Did you dig under the walls somehow, to weaken them? And you could not see! Was there a flash of light in your face that blinded you for a short while?"

Alek looked over at Annaka, standing at the horse's head with the reins as he pulled the saddle from the horse's back. She did not know! She had not seen him do any magic! He felt strangely relieved. He retrieved a halter from where it was tied to the saddle and stepped up to Annaka, gently lowering the bridle over the horse's ears and replacing it with the halter, all the while tryiing to think of what he should say.

"Sometime, I will tell you all I know about that - although it is not much," he finally said, brushing away the dampness from the horse's coat. "All that really matters is that you are safe now."

"Honestly, Alek, you are an exasperating young man," Annaka said. "Why can you not just tell me? Why are you always so secretive? Are all peasant folk so close-mouthed?"

Alek saw a tent flap open not far away and Nikolas's head emerge, and he smiled with relief. He would have some time yet, although how long he did not know, before he had to decide how to answer her.

"Look, my lady! It is your father." Alek pointed across at the tent. When Nikolas saw them his face lit with joy and hurried over, working his way between the few tents that lay between them.. Annaka and her father flew into each other's arms, and Alek saw Nikolas's eyes brim over with tears. He allowed himself one sad thought of his own father before he firmly brushed the thought away.

"Annaka! Oh, you are safe! Oh, my daughter!" Nikolas said brokenly, hugging her tightly, and then gently disengaged himself from her arms and turned to Alek. To Alek's surprise, Nikolas took his hands in his own and knelt in front of him.

"For what you have done, I owe you everything I have, everything I ever hope to have, and my life," he said solemnly. "This is an oath we speak in the north countries. It cannot be broken."

Alek stammered in consternation. What must Annaka think of this, her father kneeling before him! He felt like waving his hands at him, telling him to stop, laughing at the ridiculousness of it. But Nikolas was in utter seriousness and whatever this Northland oath was, it did not seem to be something easily brushed off.

"Please, my lord," he said, pulling Nikolas up beside him. "Let us only be glad she is back with us! What I have done, any man with a little courage would do." Well, maybe another man would not have done it quite like he had, but all that mattered was Annaka was away from the palace, away from Thorvald.

Against the slowly lightening sky Alek saw another head outlined as it emerged from a tent - the tent he shared with Einar. Einar saw him immediately and came striding over with the piece of bark clutched in his hand. Alek knew exactly how Einar would react. First he would speak politely to Annaka and her father, and then he would turn his attentions - and frustrations - on Alek.

"Milady! What a surprise, what a wonderful surprise, to see you here," Einar said to Annaka, bowing with a little morning stiffness. "My lord Nikolas, I am sure you are overjoyed. I must say, I am surprised beyond words." Then Einar rounded on Alek, and brandished the bit of bark under his nose. "And you, apparently, are the cause of this surprising event, although I could barely make out what you wrote on this - this - message."

Alek smiled. "There was no paper to hand, Einar, and I had to make do with a piece of charcoal from the fire to write with. My hand has never been good, anyway."

"The quality of your handwriting is the least of my worries," Einar retorted. "Despite the fact you are back here and safe and have the lady with you, you have taken a foolish risk. A very foolish risk."

"I knew you would be angry, Einar. But I had to go! The only reason the lady Annaka was in trouble was because of me, and no one else."

Einar darted a look at Annaka. "Alek, you are who you are. I am not your father, but I forbid you - forbid! you, to do any such thing again!"

"Well, I did not go by myself," Alek protested, trying to make his voice soothing. "I took Steen and Gil with me. Have you seen them? Have they returned?"

"I have not. Until only a moment ago I thought all three of you were asleep in your blankets. Alek, I must say again, for you to take chances with your life is more than dangerous."

Alek looked down and set his mouth in a line. Well, he had known Einar would be furious with him, but there simply had been no other way.

Einar shook his hands in front of his face in frustration. He turned to Annaka. "Milady, look at his face! He is a stubborn mule. He is not listening to me, it is clear. I must ask you, if you have any influence with him, to convince him to listen to reason."

Annaka laughed lightly. "My dear Einar, I agree with you. While I cannot say enough about how grateful I am, Alek was - well, reckless this night. Some of his actions were downright shocking."

"My lady, go with your father now, if it please you, and rest. I will speak to this young cub." Einar put his arm across Alek's broad shoulders and drew him away, off into a deeper part of the woods where they could speak without disturbing sleeping members of the Band.

"Einar, please, believe me when I say I am sorry," Alek said in a rush. "I could not bear it, though. I had to get her away from there! And I had to think of a way to do it that would not endanger the Band."

"Does she know?" Einar asked.

Alek knew instantly what Einar was asking. "No, I have not told her the truth," he said softly.

"When, Alek? When will you tell her? When will you tell everyone? The longer you wait, the harder it will be. We need you, Alek. We need you to be who you were meant to be. There is no other way we can hope to defeat Thorvald."

Alek stopped walking and put his hands over his eyes, taking several long breaths. "I am trying, Einar, truly I am, to accept this. It is just all so ridiculous." Alek reached out and put a hand on Einar's shoulder. "Your faith and belief in me means so much. But what are you believing in? A legend? A story from our childhood? How can I do this? Every day, I say to myself there must be a mistake. As you say, Einar, I am who I am. I do not know how to be anyone else." His hand dropped to his side, and the familiar feeling of entrapment and betrayal threatened to overwhelm him.
Einar simply looked at him, his face calm and kind, saying nothing. Instead of feeling awkward, though, the silence encouraged Alek to continue.

"I hate to admit it, Einar, but I am afraid," Alek finally said. "I have no idea what I or anyone else should do. If I do nothing, I will cause great suffering, like the world has never known. But if I step the wrong way, what will happen? How should a peasant boy know such things?"

"You do know one thing, my young friend," Einar said. "You do know how to pray. God will guide your steps, Alek. May he keep you safe until it is time for you to become his hands."