Eohric II
My new owner does not set a fast pace, walking his horse gently through the dark and quiet streets. Beside me walk two guards. Perhaps they flank me in case I run, but what is the use of that? My new owner said my old owner had been wasteful with his treatment of me - what does that mean?
It is too much for my pain-numbed mind to think through.
The horse is of good stock, I can see that just by looking. Well-groomed, not overweight or underfed. Not, I think, meant for war. My new owner’s cloak is a fine-trimmed fur. A sharp stone jags into my foot through my wrapped rags, and I stumble. One of the guards pulls me upright and gives me a gentle push forward. My new owner looks behind at me, and glances down, and then looks forward again.
It is a long enough walk, but probably not that far given the slow pace, when we approach a small compound, the gate part-open, a man on watch. He calls in as he sees my new owner. The guards beside me shift as we enter the yard. A fair-sized space is enclosed, with a straggle of buildings abutting the wall - a stable, perhaps a warehouse, and some others. On one side of the compound is a fine, if not large, townhouse. A groom takes the bridle of my owner’s horse, and my owner dismounts.
I stand waiting. My owner looks at me, and then speaks to another attendant, who runs off to the stable. Yes, definitely a stable, the groom is taking the horse there now. A few moments later and a large, bleary-eyed man emerges. My owner walks over to him, and they exchange some words. My owner points at me, and the man makes an obeisance. Turning his head to survey the whole area, my owner then strides over to the house, whilst the large man walks to me.
He is truly large - tall and broad both. When he speaks his voice almost rumbles. “So, you’re the new boy. What’s your name?”
“Eohric,” I reply.
“Hmm,” the man peers down on me - my head is barely higher than his belly. “Today you are blessed, Eorhic. I have been instructed that you are to rest, and to be fed. Later you can do what light tasks we have for you, and then later still you will be washed and will meet with your new Master. Understand?”
I don’t know what to say.
“Well?`” the man asked, his low rumbly voice rising in volume.
“I uhhh - I will do as asked, but no, I don’t.” And I don’t. This is all very strange.
“Hmmm,” the man inspects me further. “Well, I suppose you don’t at that. But no matter. Do as you’re told. Come, you can rest in the empty stall until Prime, when we eat.”
The Past I - Nora - April 1859
Nora’s entire being seems to sing with the thrill that, after so many years, she will see a sunrise again.
She can still taste the earth. When her torso fell she got a mouthful of it, and even though she turned her head to watch the denizens of the city depart - few looking down at her dismembered form - hours later the soil-flavour lingers. What was it one of the old Lepers had told her - mud survives?
Mud might, but her time was nearly done. Her guilt had been well-constructed, copper-bottomed. Lady Anne had read out the sentence. Her Sire, Regent Valerius, had watched impassively, never speaking. The Satrap had approached, his expression was almost bored. He took the sword. She braced herself, and then she fell - her torso freed of its limbs, and toppled forward.
Lady Anne then concluded her sentencing. Technically it was not an execution, but it might as well have been. If any helped her, they would be marked - made Accountable. The language of the pronouncement was clear - and as she watched her fellows leave she knew even her blood had decided she was not worth the risk of saving.
She had known it was coming. Lady Anne had made a point of telling her. Nora had resolved not to beg - and that promise to herself, at least, she kept.
It is getting late now. Everyone had left, apart from Lady Anne and the Satrap. The one to kill her should she do aught to help herself, the other to ensure there would be an accounting on any who tried to save her. The sky is lightening.
“It would be a kindness to make it clean,” Lady Anne says.
There is a silence.
“So you desire her to suffer?” This time Lady Anne’s voice is sharper. Some more moments. “Satrap Albert!”
“Yes, my lady,” the Satrap now replies, his voice smooth. “You wish me to break the sentence you yourself decreed?”
Now Lady Anne pauses before replying, “Does this have a point, Satrap?”
“You gave Nora until the dawn. Are you not a person of your word?”
Nora feels like telling them to stop bickering. If these are her last moments of life, the least they could do would be to let her enjoy the sunrise in peace.
She hears movement, and feels herself being lifted up. Satrap Albert holds her in front of him - hours ago maybe she would have screamed. Now she has a strange calm.
“Tell me, little zealot, do you wish to live?”
Nora cannot see Lady Anne, but she hears her draw a deep breath.
“Who is going to claim me? You?” she spits back, suddenly angry at the question.
“If you will have me,” the Satrap replies with a quiet voice.
“Albert!” Lady Anne exclaims, but Albert ignores her.
Nora tries to speak, but cannot make any proper sound for a few seconds, then croaks out a “Why?”
“You were not sentenced to death, I see no reason why you should suffer that fate.”
Nora does not understand why she is being offered this chance, but she knows it will not be offered again. What was it he said? “If you will have me,” she says, and for a moment she sees the Satrap smile.
“A moment,” he says and places her gently on the ground, propped upright. “Yes?” he says to Lady Anne.
“Are you insane?” the Lady says. “You are an officer of this court, you cannot -”
“I am a Satrap of Lord Mithras, my lady,” Albert intones, “and I am a resident of the Domain of London. I serve the Domain. The Domain did not declare Nora’s death. And so I claim Nora, in line with your judgement. You have no grounds on which to be dis-satisfied.”
Nora sees a real rage build within Lady Anne, and sees the effort it costs her to restrain it. “My Sire -” she begins, but the Satrap interrupts.
“Your Sire is Regent only, and though he hopes otherwise my Lord still walks the Earth. You might remember that, my Lady.”
“Why?” she says again.
“I have already told you. But you should leave now, my Lady,” the Satrap says softly. “It will be day soon, and our business here is done.”
He turns, and scoops up Nora, and leaves before Lady Anne can make a reply. There is a carriage waiting for him, and he places her on the seat beside him.
“Why?” Nora asks. “Why save me?”
Albert looks down at her broken form, and smiles a little. “Would you believe me if I said I told Lady Anne the truth?”
Nora doesn’t, but neither does she press. She knows she will have to pay a price for this delivery, and she hopes it is not too dear. But for now her entire being seems to sing with the thrill she will not, after all, see the sun rise.
End of Chapter 1
Then again, there were two Anne’s as well ...
