The Scrivener's Tale #1

SIXTEEN

Florentyna had never felt more alone than she did right now watching Darcelle fuss over the final arrangements for the arrival of King Tamas in a few days. It wasn’t jealousy, it was envy — they’re different, she analysed privately. She had been betrothed once. She wondered if she would ever find someone to love. Weeping into one’s sewing just won’t do, majesty, Reynard used to tease when he caught her in a moment of self-pity. Shar, but she missed him.
‘Oh, I’m so nervous,’ Darcelle twittered in Florentyna’s general direction.
‘Formal welcome, to the throne room, meet the queen, talk with nobles briefly … and so on and so forth,’ Darcelle continued murmuring to herself as she looked over her list. It had originally held a mammoth series of tasks, which she had doggedly shortened — through canny management over seven moons — to this final list. ‘Stables, cleared. Guestrooms, ready. Servants appointed … er, Burrage?’
‘Yes, highness?’ he said, looking up from his desk in the queen’s salon, where they were all seated.
Florentyna felt obliged to be present but was doing her best not to be involved in the final flurry of activity to organise the welcome for the arrival of the King of Cipres.
‘I know it’s tedious of me,’ Darcelle continued, ‘but I want to check again that Tamas has been appointed the best from our household staff to wait on him.’
Florentyna had to wonder why Burrage didn’t fling the book of household accounts straight at her sister’s head, which appeared to be empty of anything but her own inane, repetitive queries regarding her nuptials.
‘Hytchen will be his manservant at all times, and Looce his maid, your highness. I have seen to it.’
‘Good,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry to make you run through it again.’
‘It is no hardship, highness. Little Venn will be his page, and I will, of course, offer my secretarial and administrative services to ensure confidentiality and reliability. Looce has picked three other of our most senior and trusted women. Meanwhile, Hytchen has assembled his special team — from stable hands to falconer, to dressers, to musicians. Essentially, though, it will be myself, Hytchen and Looce who will supervise and manage the needs of the king and his retinue. Please do not worry yourself — we will ensure a smooth and delightful stay.’ He smiled warmly and cast a glance towards Florentyna, which she ignored, preferring not to be drawn into the conversation.
‘Thank you, Burrage,’ Darcelle said briskly. She continued checking off her list, muttering and dipping her nib into the queen’s inkpot to scribble small notes to herself. ‘So, we’re leaving pre-dawn to go and meet him?’ she cast into the silence.
This was too much for Florentyna.
There was no actual wedding ceremony yet. The visit of the king at this time was essentially to meet the sovereign of Morgravia in order to parley, to broker the right structure for this marriage between the two realms. It continued to annoy Florentyna that strict protocol had already been breached when Darcelle had made her own journey to Cipres and accepted the king’s proposal so emphatically. Darcelle should have known better, which is why Florentyna continued to believe that her stepmother was behind this union  . Getting a crown onto Darcelle’s head was, no doubt, Saria’s prime outside interest while incarcerated at the monastery.
Once Darcelle became a queen — with the power that such a title might bring — Florentyna was sure Saria would then set about chipping away at her through Darcelle. She’d hoped, over the passing of many moons, that Darcelle might drift away from their stepmother. Florentyna had to acknowledge to herself it was why she had acquiesced to her sister making the journey across the ocean to Cipres in the first place. It was a useful, cunning old ploy to expose a young woman to new experiences, new people, fresh interests. It hadn’t worked. Darcelle’s affections for Saria had remained intact; intensified if anything.
Now Florentyna’s frustration spilled over. ‘Darcelle, I insist upon some decorum. You will meet Tamas at Baelup. There is absolutely no need for you to go traipsing across the countryside in the dead of night. Don’t act so desperate. He’s wooing you. He needs you far more than you him.’
‘Dead of morning, sister,’ Darcelle corrected. ‘And there is every need for me to gallop at the highest speed toward the man that I love. I don’t know how you managed to talk me out of being on the shore to meet his ship! This is my future husband. It is how I demonstrate my commitment and love for him.’
Burrage cut the queen a glance. His eyes urged her to remain calm.
Florentyna sighed. She was always the one who did the right thing. She could almost hear her father — and Reynard — telling her that she had no choice as sovereign but to always do what was right and correct. Florentyna put down her papers and schooled her features to look a lot less irritated than she felt.
‘It is more seemly for the bride to be a little more reticent. The match is very good for King Tamas — please don’t forget that. He is marrying into what is arguably the most prosperous dynasty in all the world and —’
Darcelle snorted. ‘I think the Denovians might like to take you to task on that, sister.’
The queen forced herself to let her sister’s rudeness pass. She hated it when Darcelle derided her in front of others, and as the Ciprean king’s arrival date had drawn closer, Darcelle’s confidence had grown to arrogant levels. Saria was lurking in this, but deep down Florentyna knew she had helped create the monster by being so soft on her little sister.
‘Nevertheless,’ she said, evenly, working to remain gentle with Darcelle, ‘the Ciprean crown is the real winner in this marriage, so please —’
‘Florentyna! You are determined to ruin my pleasure. I’ve waited so many moons to see Tamas again and you know how much I’ve longed for him.’
Florentyna cleared her throat and glared at Darcelle to remind her that Burrage was still in the room.
Darcelle stood. ‘I just want it all to be perfect for him.’
‘And it will be. You are perfect for each other,’ Florentyna said, meaning it. She rose and walked around her desk to take Darcelle by the shoulders. ‘You are the most beautiful bride that any king could ever possibly be fortunate enough to win.’ Darcelle pouted a smile. ‘You’re intelligent and talented, you’re young and capable of giving him strong sons.’
Darcelle laughed. ‘A whole army,’ she quipped.
Florentyna grinned. ‘Indeed. He knows you love him, beautiful child. You have nothing to prove. Just be elegant, be restrained, let him discover all there is to discover about you slowly. He’s an older man … he should and no doubt will worship the ground you walk on. But he must earn your love too, Darcelle.’
‘Florentyna, you don’t understand. I worship him. And it’s too late if you want me to play the coy virgin!’
The queen gasped. Burrage cleared his throat and made some inane excuse to leave the chamber which Florentyna barely heard. She was staring uncomprehendingly into Darcelle’s defiant gaze.
‘You slept with Tamas?’ she asked, her tone incredulous.
Darcelle gave one of her sly smiles. ‘I don’t think we did much sleeping —’
Florentyna looked as shocked at the sound as Darcelle was stung by the pain of the slap. The queen even looked at her hand, baffled that it was the culprit that had inflicted the strike. Darcelle covered her cheek while Florentyna’s lips thinned as much in despair as in anger.
‘How dare you!’ Darcelle whimpered.
‘Someone has to,’ Florentyna bit back.
‘No, Florentyna! Someone has to get on with enriching this family, broadening its horizons, bringing fresh blood into it and breathing new life into our line. It’s fairly obvious it’s not going to be dry old you,’ Darcelle snapped. Both women were breathing heavily. ‘There’s about as much chance of you being bedded as me sprouting wings and flying out of that window!’ She hurled the words at her sister. ‘I’m a woman now and I will marry Tamas … and I will wear his crown. And though I may nod my head towards you, sister, in acknowledgement of your crown, I will never, ever bow as subserviently to you as I’ve had to previously, once that crown is on my head. Do you understand me? We will be queens and we can get on as sisters … or we can be enemies.’
And there it was. All that she’d dreaded.
‘You senseless, self-centred brat,’ Florentyna exploded. ‘I know Saria is behind all of this.’
‘My mother —’
‘She’s not your mother.’
‘Saria is the only mother I’ve ever known. And I don’t care if you hate her. I love her. I thought I loved you too — that’s what always made our triangle so difficult. I was torn. Increasingly, Florentyna, you are making it far easier for me to choose. You have become an emotionless, isolated island of a person whom no-one can reach, least of all me. And worse, now you’re jealous of me. Frankly I’ve done so much to promote your reign that I should be the one to feel hard done by. But I don’t bear grudges. I want only what’s best for you. Pity you can’t feel the same sentiment towards me!’
She took a breath and before Florentyna could voice her despair, her sister continued her rant. She pointed aggressively. ‘You should be revelling in the fact that we have this opportunity to bind our realm with Cipres and, ultimately, perhaps Tallinor. And you should be especially thrilled that this is not a strategic marriage with me kicking and screaming as I’m dragged away to marry an acid-breathed man I despise. He’s older, yes, but I love Tamas. What’s more — and I know this cuts you deeply — he genuinely loves me. You should be showering me with praise. Instead, all you do is think of yourself.’ Darcelle backed away and lowered her hand.
Florentyna shrank at the sight of the welt on her sister’s cheek. ‘I’m sorry. I should not have done that,’ Florentyna whispered, knowing she should not be apologising, knowing Darcelle was finally showing the flaws in her character and that, as queen, she was making a terrible error in condoning her sister’s behaviour. The sovereign might find ways to make amends, but to accept blame was inappropriate. She could all but hear her father’s voice lambasting her.
Darcelle continued her tirade. ‘No, I do not accept your apology. I’ll wear this bruise as a mark of pride. It’s testimony to the shrivelled stick of a woman you are fast becoming that you would criticise me for crafting one of the most positive events this realm has seen in an age. We’re teetering on destruction of the triumvirate but maybe … just maybe, a royal wedding, a merger of realms, a whole empire in celebration might drag us all back from the brink. The only reason you’re queen is the five winters that yawn between us, sister. But we all know — including you — that I would have made a far better sovereign and that would have left you free to moon about in your enchanted garden or play with the magics that I know you believe in. You’re a disgrace! Saria’s right. This crown of Morgravia is rightfully mine.’
At Florentyna’s horrified look, Darcelle laughed. ‘Scary, isn’t it, that I might even entertain such a thought. So don’t push me, your majesty! I’ve walked in your withered shadow for long enough. I respect the role of sovereign more than you know and that’s the only reason I will bow once again to you, my queen,’ she said, lowering herself elegantly but her tone was poisonous. ‘And be very grateful that I will never speak of your hand against me. I repeat my warning. Don’t push me or you will have armies marching against you from across the oceans, and while Cipres might be small in comparison to this empire, it is loyal, patriotic and has the might of Tallinor behind it.
‘What’s more, you should be considering closely whether Briavel would support you. I doubt it, given what you’ve done to its beloved Saria … beware that the loyalty you have taken for granted doesn’t turn on you. It won’t take much for me to persuade a lot of powerful people that I would make a better queen. Let’s face it, Florentyna, most Morgravians barely know you … it’s me they meet at social events. You’re invisible … a figurehead … a name. I am real to them. And they love me.’
She turned and flounced away.
All Florentyna could do was watch her shapely form disappear from the salon.
Burrage soon filled the space that Darcelle had left. ‘Majesty?’
Florentyna was too stunned by her sister’s rantings to respond.
He stepped closer. ‘My queen,’ he said, gravely, ‘she is still a child. She exaggerates everything.’
‘No, Burrage,’ she said, her voice not much above a terrified whisper. ‘That’s just it. She’s not a child. And she doesn’t see herself as one either. I’m sorry you had to hear what you did.’
Burrage lowered his gaze but risked discussing what might otherwise remain a topic never to be broached again. ‘She must have taken the right precautions.’
Florentyna knew exactly to what he referred. ‘I have no doubt Saria made sure she was well equipped with the right concoctions to prevent pregnancy while Darcelle turned into a whore for King Tamas,’ she growled.
Burrage gave a hushing sound. ‘Please, your majesty. Understand this will never be discussed by me with anyone.’
‘I know, Burrage. I realise now that the sooner she is married the better,’ she said, the shock of Darcelle’s scorn still making her hair feel as though it was standing on end. She felt the hot scald of her sister’s words burn at her cheeks, while at the same time the coldness of contempt from the only person she loved was leaking into her heart. ‘I will do as she wants. I will see her safely, happily married to the King of Cipres and then I will wash my hands of trying to guide Darcelle.’ She felt her voice choke, could hear it too.
‘Your majesty, you are upset. Please, take some time these next few days. You need to be at your sparkling best when the king arrives.’
She looked away, nodding.
‘May I add on a personal note, your majesty …?’
Florentyna met his gaze. Burrage never got personal. Her pause gave him permission.
He cleared his throat. ‘I heard some of what was exchanged, forgive me. I wanted to be gone, but I didn’t want any of the other staff to hear the princess’s tirade,’ he said hesitantly. Then he sighed. ‘What I really wanted to say is that as an outsider looking in — and especially one with as many years in Stoneheart as I — it is obvious that the princess is the one with the sense of inferiority. Risking your ire, majesty, may I say that you are none of those things she accused you of being. I think it’s important you know that you carry yourself with grace and are beloved by all of us in your household. You have more than filled your father’s shoes despite your young years. We are all proud of our queen, who we feel is destined to rule as wisely and magnanimously as her illustrious forebears.’ He cleared his throat again. ‘Your sister covets your role, majesty. She deliberately hurt your feelings today. I hope you’ll see it purely for what it was and not take any of her poisonous accusations to heart.’
She felt a sob racing towards her throat. Burrage was saying all that she needed to hear. His tender words reminded her all the more of how alone she felt without parents, without Reynard, without even a sister to count on. But if his message meant anything, it was that bleating like a lost lamb was not the path to take. Her people demanded strength and poise in all situations and that’s what she would give them.
‘Thank you, Burrage. May I say that you and I have both had big boots to fill and you’ve quietly and modestly become someone I trust and know I can always rely upon.’
Burrage regarded her with a softening expression before bowing gently in response.
‘Is there any word on that man Fynch?’ she asked, changing the subject and turning away to banish the emotion of the moment. Duty called and there were matters to attend to other than her silly sister’s threats.
‘Nothing yet.’
‘There won’t be either,’ she replied with a tone of resignation.
‘I’ve cast a wide net. We’ll catch something in it, I’m sure. And each piece of information leads to a new one. If he can be found, I will find him for you.’
Florentyna stared out of the window into the great bailey. It was a hive of activity in preparation for her royal guest. She realised it must be a very long time since Stoneheart had greeted royalty from another household, for the cobbles of the bailey were being scrubbed, a sight she had never seen.
‘When is Saria free to leave the monastery?’ she asked, switching topics suddenly.
‘Er, I believe that happens in three moons, your majesty.’
‘She must be squirming with rage to be missing Tamas and the pomp we must accord a visiting royal.’
‘The word from Brother Hoolyn is that they have an ogress in their midst.’ Burrage chuckled quietly.
She turned, having made a snap decision. ‘Then I think it’s high time I paid a visit to Rittylworth Monastery.’
Burrage’s humour fled. ‘Whatever for?’
She swung around. ‘I’m not going to wait for my stepmother to make any moves. Before Tamas arrives I shall take Dowager Saria by surprise and propose that she go west with Darcelle. I shall leave her no choice — either Cipres, or the equivalent of banishment to Briavel. She will not be welcome at Stoneheart. Nay, she will not be permitted to enter the borders of Morgravia or the Razors. Let her be gone with her stepdaughter to live in Cipres and trouble me no more.’
As Gabe had suspected he would, Merchant Tentrell had dismissed his single manservant, Ash, and at sunset had called for Gabe to down his tools and come into the house. Cyricus gleefully guided his body indoors and, as reluctant as Gabe was, there was little he could do to prevent the inevitable. He shrank so tightly that he hoped he might shut himself away from seeing what his eyes were regarding. He couldn’t close off the sounds of Tentrell dying beneath his hands, but he felt at a remove.
It was an ugly death, for Tentrell — as flabby and soft as he’d become — was nonetheless strong, if only because of his sheer bulk. Cyricus had been patient, allowing the man to flirt, to touch and to ply Gabe’s body with wine, or at least believe that’s what he was doing. Cyricus acted drunk very quickly, first managing to toss the best part of two goblets of wine into the bushes below the balcony where Tentrell had planned his seduction, and latterly spilling far more than he allowed Gabe’s body to consume. While Tentrell was becoming soused, as well as more bold with his hands and lewd suggestions, Gabe sensed rather than saw the moment when Cyricus picked up a fruit knife and plunged it into the tender flesh at Tentrell’s throat. It took several stabs for the man’s grip around him to weaken. He was sickened by the knowledge that he was surely drenched in another’s blood once again.
Now laughter boomed through his body. ‘There we are, my beloved,’ Cyricus said. ‘Now we have the means.’
‘I thought you might travel in Tentrell’s body. Surely he’s more use in royal circles?’
‘I’ll worry about that later. I told you, I like Gabe’s body. It attracts the right attention. I can put it to good use for just a little longer.’
‘Won’t they be looking for Gabe? The servant saw him, can identify him.’
‘We will be gone this night. By the time anyone can hunt down Gabriel, he too will be lifeless. I plan to be rid of this body within days.’
‘Good,’ she replied.
‘It’s time to ransack the house. I know Tentrell has lots of gold, as well as jewels, and I know just the person we shall attract with them.’
Days, Gabe thought mournfully, ignoring the sound of Aphra’s sinister chuckling. That’s all he had to come up with a plan. He became aware of Cyricus washing his body and selecting fine clothes to wear. It seemed Tentrell was vain enough to have kept his wardrobe intact from when he’d cut a slimmer figure.
Cyricus found rings to put on Gabe’s fingers and then went hunting for the man’s money and other valuables. It felt like an eternity before a safebox was found in a cunning recess in the wall behind a shutter, and it was dark by the time Cyricus finally walked Gabe’s body out of the house and went looking for stables. He couldn’t risk using Tentrell’s horse.
Here the stable master was paid handsomely from the stolen gold and silver.
‘Good evening,’ Cyricus said from the saddle and Gabe was surprised that he could remember how to ride. Those lessons in England when he was a child were paying off.
‘Hmmm,’ Cyricus pondered as he eased the horse out of the stables.
‘What?’ the mostly silent Aphra asked.
‘Strange …’
He walked the horse out of the town, guided by the burning torches lighting the streets.
‘Just for a moment,’ Cyricus continued, ‘I could swear I wasn’t in control of this body.’
Gabe mentally held his breath.
‘I don’t understand,’ she said.
‘No, neither do I. It was odd though. When we left the stables, I wasn’t moving the reins, nor did I dig my knees in to get the beast moving. It was as though …’
‘As though what, Cyricus?’
‘Well, as though another had done so.’
She laughed. ‘It wasn’t me. I have no idea how to ride.’
There was a horrible silence during which Gabe shrank back, desperately frightened at the possibility of discovery.
‘Maybe there are remnants of memories left behind. And now I come to think of it, that makes sense. I know Wyl Thirsk inherited the memories of his victims when Myrren’s magic went to work. I hadn’t realised that we have no doubt inherited Gabriel’s memories.’
‘I haven’t been aware of them.’
‘No, that’s odd too. I would assume we’d possess all or none.’
‘Magic changes, my love. Perhaps what you just experienced was an echo of Gabe’s memory.’
‘I hope so. But search for them. Let’s see if we can find any others. I want no sudden surprises that might be more troublesome than his memory of horse riding.’
‘I’ll do that immediately,’ she said.
And Gabe forgot about Tentrell’s messy death, his memory of horse riding, and his determination to strike back at the interlopers who had stolen his existence. All that remained was a desire to remain alive long enough in this strange spiritual form to see them gone. He mustn’t be found by Aphra. She was hunting for memories — he didn’t know how to give them to her, but he deliberately thought about the apartment, making that picture of it come to life vividly. He thought about coffee, knowing she would recognise that as one of his passions. He thought about books, about the shop, about Paris.
Would he be able to hide from her? He tried to imagine himself disappeared and immediately the nave of Pearlis Cathedral surrounded him … and Gabe felt safe.