Aiduels sin, p.5
Aiduel's Sin, page 5
‘Thank you, Lana,’ he replied, and it was clear that he approved of her statement. ‘But I can’t help but feel frustrated with what’s happening in this country right now. All these important decisions are being taken, all these insults to the Church are happening, and I’m just meant to watch and nod! But not for much longer, I swear!’
Allana’s hand was still on his cheek. ‘Please be calm, Jarrett.’
‘But what if he takes the decision to break us off from the Holy Church in Sen Aiduel, Lana? What then? Anyone who obeys will be excommunicated by the Archlaw. Excommunicated! How can we be expected to keep our oaths to Andar, if we’re turning our backs on The Lord’s own Holy Church, and are destined to lose our path to the afterlife?’
She paused before responding, choosing her words carefully, then said, ‘You’ll do what is right, Jarrett, according to your conscience and your religion. You’re a great man. A man born to lead lesser men. You will listen to your conscience, you will pray to The Lord, and you will seek guidance from the Holy Book. And then you will act. Because that is what great men do. And whatever that decision is, I’ll be beside you, supporting you, because I trust you to protect me and to keep me safe. As you will keep all of the people of Berun safe.’
You sound so convincing and pious, Lana.
‘Thank you, Lana. You always seem to know what to say to make me feel calmer. And it makes me guilty that I keep all these secrets from you.’ He exhaled loudly, and looked a little sheepish. ‘There are other matters that Mother’s involved in, which I need to share with you. She’s advancing her efforts to find me a bride. Correspondence has started with eligible families and matters are progressing. That’s as much as I want to say, for now, but it would be dishonourable of me to keep it from you.’
Allana kept the disquiet that she felt in reaction to this away from the expression on her face. If Jarrett secured a bride from a noble family, then Allana was in no doubt that Jarrett’s mother, Dowager Duchess Sillene Berun, would seek to banish her from the duke’s life. Allana would then lose all of the security and protection which Jarrett provided.
That old hag Sillene will try to take all of this away from you, Lana. You know she will, unless you can prevent it.
But the uncertainty that was stirred inside her by Jarrett’s revelation was not visible to her lover, and instead she smiled.
‘That’s a worry for another day, my love. For now, let’s talk of happier things, and please know that I’m here to support you.’
–
She was visited by the recurring dream that night, back in the confines of her own small, private room within the castle. She awoke from the dream in pitch darkness, covered in perspiration, with her sheets kicked away from her. Her heart was beating fast.
She moved to turn towards Jarrett, to seek his comfort and to try to return to sleep as quickly as possible, before realising that tonight she was alone.
Go back to sleep, Lana. Please, just go back to sleep!
But she knew that her plea would be to no avail, and that there would be little more rest tonight.
The dream had awakened her, but soon other imaginings would start to creep into her mind within the darkness of the room. This was why she hated sleeping alone. Already, she could feel a trembling beginning in her fingers.
Her recurring dream had continued to haunt her sleep on a regular basis throughout the three-month period that she had been with Jarrett. However, its nature had become even worse since she had killed Evelyn dei Laramin. It made Allana wonder whether her unleashing of darkness that day had broken an invisible seal inside of herself, and had made her more receptive to the horror which lurked in the hidden recesses of the dream?
Once again tonight, in the aftermath of waking, she could recall the shining avatars of light. The winding path on the side of the mountain. The ethereal Gate, and the blinding, magnificent figure within, with a single finger raised. But in addition to these things, there were other flashes of memory now. Glimpses of terror and violence at the end? Of something awful being done to her?
Both of her hands were now shaking, as the aftermath of the dream began to merge into other terrible thoughts. Was it suddenly harder to breathe, as if there was a cloth on her face? As if water was pouring through that cloth and into her mouth, and she was drowning?
Her eyes were open, but she was in darkness, and there was no one beside her to comfort her. No one to protect her. Unless someone actually was there, lurking unseen, and ready to hurt her again? Ready to drown her? Ready to burn her?
It’s not real, Lana. It’s not real. You’re on your own, that’s all. You’re not back there. They can’t hurt you again.
Her heart was pounding, and she tried to force herself to think of other things.
‘Jarrett’s here. Arion’s here.’
She spoke the words aloud, having discovered that this mantra had helped to soothe these panic attacks on prior lonely nights. If either of the two men had been with her, then she would have wanted them to take her in their arms, and to shield her from these memories.
Imagine they’re with you, Lana. Holding you, and keeping you safe.
Jarrett had witnessed her traumas at night-time, and it always helped to have him beside her, to comfort her afterwards. However, she had never told him – had never told anyone – about what had happened to her in the fortress of Aiduel’s Guards. She still struggled to even think about her humiliating ordeal, and she certainly did not want to discuss it with someone else. What words could she possibly use to articulate what had happened to her and how it made her feel? Better to bury it inside.
Anyway, a disclosure of her sufferings might result in a need for other explanations, such as why she had been held captive in the first place, and what she had done in order to escape. Jarrett did not need to know about any of those things. In particular, he would never be told about the murders of Evelyn dei Laramin and her associates.
‘Jarrett’s here. Arion’s here.’
You can’t tell him the truth, Lana. Not while his mother’s here, anyway. She’d use it against you.
Jarrett had been given a sanitised version of Allana’s history. He had been told that she came from Sen Aiduel, and that she had left there after the death of her seamstress mother, in search of her missing father. After that, he understood that she had lived in Septholme as a seamstress, until she had fled to Berun during the war.
There were many other secrets that she was keeping from him. Foremost amongst these was the existence of her powers, which she could casually use on him without any memory on his part. Nor had she told Jarrett anything about her interactions with the Sepian family, including the affair with Duke Conran Sepian, or the manner of the older duke’s death. And her encounters with and feelings for Arion Sepian had been kept entirely to herself.
‘Jarrett’s here. Arion’s here.’
Allana thought about Arion now, in the darkness of the room, as her chest heaved and her fingers trembled. He had married someone else, at a time when he had promised that he would wait for Allana to contact him. He had completed his betrayal, by giving himself to another woman.
You promised to stop thinking about that, Lana. About his lies.
The way that Jarrett occasionally talked about Arion made it clear that he despised the young Sepian noble. As such, Jarrett would also never be told that Allana had once been overcome with passion, and possibly love, for his hated rival. That she had been prepared to run away with Arion and to devote her life to him, and that she had been stunned when he had abandoned her on a deserted trail at the outset of a war. And of how this desertion had turned into crushing betrayal mere weeks later, when Allana had heard of Arion’s sudden wedding to another.
‘Jarrett’s here. Arion’s here.’
Up until then, even after she had become ensconced as Jarrett Berun’s lover, she had been teetering on the edge of writing to Arion, to try to reunite with him. She had been on the brink of taking a quill and ink, and putting her unresolved emotions down onto paper, despite the risk if such words were discovered. However, the news of Arion’s marriage had quashed those intentions. She had felt physically sick when she had found out, through a casual comment which Jarrett had made to her. She had taken herself off to be alone, and had wept for hours.
Stop thinking about him, Lana. He doesn’t deserve you. Your future is with Jarrett.
But, if that was the case, why did she continue to repeat Arion’s name alongside Jarrett’s, in a mantra intended to subdue her panic? And why was it so easy to imagine him being beside her on the bed? Almost too easy.
However, those thoughts could not assuage her current anxiety, here in the darkness of the night. Her breathing was still fast, her heart was pounding, and her fingers continued to tremble. And it made her ask a question which she could not answer.
Why must you feel this panic and terror, Lana, every single night that you’re alone?
–
The following day, Seventh-Day, Allana was in the church in the main central square of the town of Berun, waiting for the Holy Day service to begin. On this occasion, she was not at Jarrett’s side.
The duke was seated in the front row of the pews set out in the austere building, and the only other person sharing that row with him was his mother, Dowager Duchess Sillene Berun. Allana was sitting four rows back, on a pew reserved for retainers of the Berun household. The dowager tolerated Allana’s presence in the castle as her son’s mistress, but Allana was forbidden from being at the duke’s side whilst in this holy building.
Allana glared at the older woman’s back.
If she wasn’t here, Lana, everything would be so much easier.
Sillene Berun was in her early fifties, and was a hefty woman, who was several inches over six feet in height. Upon seeing her, it was clear who Jarrett had inherited his physical attributes from, although the woman’s form was all flab. The dowager duchess was sitting close to her son, with their arms and shoulders almost touching. Allana could see the woman leaning over occasionally, whispering words into Jarrett’s ear, and she felt a tinge of jealousy.
Allana hated the haughty old shrew. The dowager was a nasty bully, who used her size and status to intimidate those with less power than her, including Allana. Just that morning, Allana had seen Sillene viciously beating a servant boy. It had not been the first time that she had witnessed the dowager assaulting one of the castle retainers, but she had still been shocked by how the flabby woman had repeatedly slapped the small child’s face.
Allana could vividly remember her first encounter with Sillene, after she had accompanied Jarrett and his cavalry back to Berun Castle. By then, Jarrett had already become infatuated with her, and he had promised to give her private quarters within the castle keep and a role as his personal seamstress.
–
Just a few hours after Allana’s arrival at the castle, Sillene Berun had appeared at those private quarters.
Allana had been taking delight in gaining her own safe space again. The room which Jarrett had provided was cosily small, with dark stone walls and a high glass window, and was plainly furnished with just a bed, dresser and basin.
Allana had been in the midst of unpacking her few possessions when Sillene Berun had opened the door without knocking. Allana had been startled by both the unexpected intrusion, and also by the massive figure who had stalked into the room, towering over her own petite form.
‘So, you’re the whore who my son has taken for a mistress?’
Allana had been taken aback by the rudeness of the introduction, and had barely contained her annoyance as she had managed to reply, ‘I’m not a whore. And you are?’
‘Dowager Duchess Sillene. This is my castle, girl. You’ll address me as “My Lady”, or I’ll give you a beating you won’t soon forget.’
Allana had felt herself bristling. After her experiences with Evelyn dei Laramin, she had vowed that she would never again allow someone to physically abuse her. Indeed, in her final encounter with the Dei Magnun High Commander, she had released a latent power within herself which she believed could crush any such future attempt.
However, on this occasion she had opted to lower her eyes, and had calmly said, ‘Yes, my Lady, my apologies. Yes, Duke Berun has asked me to return here with him.’
The woman had scowled, looking down at Allana through narrowed eyes.
‘Well, I knew it might happen, eventually. Even though his piety was telling him not to, I’d told him that he needed to get himself some experience before marriage. And his own mother can’t teach him everything. But look at what he’s chosen. Something common, and there’s hardly anything to you.’
The hefty woman had leaned over Allana, clearly savouring her height and bulk advantage. She had then placed a chunky hand onto Allana’s upper arm, squeezing the flesh beneath thick fingers.
‘Pretty enough, I suppose,’ the dowager had continued, ‘but I would’ve thought that he’d have picked himself a woman with some meat on her, for his first.’
Allana had said nothing, but had felt the anger building in herself again.
‘And a foreigner,’ Sillene Berun had continued. ‘Clearly from Dei Magnus with that accent. You wouldn’t dare to be a spy, would you, girl?’
‘No, my Lady. I was a seamstress, who fled Western Canasar during the war. The duke encountered me on the highway.’
‘Just a little commoner, picked up off the side of the road then. Well, if you are a spy, I’ll soon know. I’ll have people watching you girl, and they’ll also be watching anyone you have contact with. So, be warned.’ She had then paused for a handful of seconds, glowering at Allana. ‘Well, I’ll find you at another time to set out the rules by which I’ll tolerate your presence in this castle, girl. However, be in no doubt, whatever my son says, that you will only be here for as long as I allow you to remain here. My boy loves me, and if I insist that you leave, you’ll be gone. And if you do anything to hurt him, well, you’ll also be gone. But in a different way.’
–
Allana was still thinking about this as the holy service started, and as she continued to glare at the older woman’s back.
She acts so holy and righteous here, Lana. But it’s all a pretence. She’s so false and horrible.
The rudeness of the older woman had not abated since their first meeting. Allana had subsequently discovered that the dowager duchess was from Elannis City, and that the woman was a cousin of the Emperor, on his mother’s side. The royal bloodline at least partly explained the large woman’s haughty sense of superiority.
As the holy service continued, led by a dour priest with a droning voice, Allana joined in with the recitals. However, she was soon bored, and her mind was wandering.
You could ask Jarrett to go riding tomorrow, Lana.
Despite the problems that the mother presented, having the role of mistress of the young duke had given Allana far greater liberty than she had ever enjoyed in Septholme Castle. She was able to roam freely around both the castle and the bustling town of Berun, and she rejoiced in her new-found freedom.
However, horse-riding had become the activity which she enjoyed the most. Jarrett had taken her to the castle stables during her first week there, and had ordered a stableman to instruct her in the fundamentals of horsemanship. Once she had mastered the basics, Jarrett had accompanied her on a number of rides into the surrounding Berun countryside.
Allana loved it. The countryside around Berun was beautiful, full of rolling hills and verdant pine forests, and the foothill mountains of The Horns sometimes came into view in the distance. When it was just Allana and Jarrett together, looking back towards Berun Castle and the surrounding town from some distant viewpoint, she could let herself escape into the fantasy that she was the Duchess of Berun. That he was her husband, and that this land was hers.
The day before, they had gone riding together for many miles. Allana was letting herself drift into the calming solace of the memory of this, as she joined in with the chanting of the final recitals.
As she did so, her eyes moved back onto the form of Sillene Berun, and she remembered what Jarrett had told her. The dowager duchess was going to try to take away Allana’s life here. Even now, the older woman was plotting to bring a wife for Jarrett to the castle, at which point Allana would be replaced and removed. She would lose her home, her privileges and her protection as Duke Berun’s mistress.
There would be no point in Allana trying to plead with the dowager to stay in the castle, since nothing would change the nasty woman’s mind. The only two people who could prevent this from happening were Jarrett, or Allana herself.
Jarrett was clearly in thrall to his domineering mother, and Allana doubted that her lover would be able to stand up to Sillene if their wills clashed. Of course, Allana could coerce Jarrett to resist his mother’s attempts to find him a bride. However, given the older woman’s apparent dominance over her son, that would not feel as certain or final for Allana as just stopping Sillene directly.
That felt like the better option. If Allana wanted to keep this life, then she would need to act to halt the schemes of the dowager duchess. Without such action, she would risk losing everything that she had gained here.
As she was thinking this, the holy service finally concluded. With that conclusion, she realised that she had a question to answer and a decision to make.
To protect what you have here, Lana, just what exactly are you prepared to do?
–
Over a week later, on First-Day morning, Allana was standing in the courtyard of Berun Castle, amongst a crowd of servants and retainers. They had gathered to watch the departure of Duke Jarrett Berun on his journey to Andarron. Dowager Duchess Sillene had insisted that the duke’s departure be marked with appropriate pomp and formality, and most of the castle retainers had been ordered to attend.
