The Light Falls
Sequence 1
Prophecy
The days are coming, says the Maker, when a crack shall appear in Bertonia. She who was once strong, impregnable, shall be crumbled to dust. She who once caused many nations to fear will herself tremble and quake.
For muskets are loaded, cannon primed, and the cavalry swords are dipped in blood. It is all in service of the Maker, may His name be praised.
Yes, I shall come, I shall be present with the smaller nations, with Blemia, with Gotham, with Nathonia and with Liliput. I will not forsake them to a tyrant. I will not let their blood be squeezed as one squeezes an orange. I will not let them be trampled any longer, like one tramples out the blood of grapes. They will be freed.
The Maker has said it, so shall it be. This is how it will come to pass...
The crack will appear, and all will see it. The great shall wail on account of it. The one who produces will be put to death. But the righteous shall shine like the sun. She shall not be moved, my righteous one, for she is my chosen one.
History
From “The Kings of Bertonia”
The beginning of the Bertonian Empire had noble causes. The kings of Bertonia and Nathonia had between them a son and a daughter. The son was from Bertonia, his name Prince Bartholomew Joseph. The daughter’s name was Avagalia Prudens, named as per Nathonian custom after her dear mother, Avagalia Sophia. On a diplomatic mission in the spring of 1331 FC, the two of them fell in love.
This was, of course, a match made in heaven. The Maker Himself must have smiled upon their courtship, even as it was a long distance affair. But obstacles remained. Each was the only child of their respective royal parents. It remained necessary for the kings of Nathonia and Bertonia to meet in order to discuss what would happen if their children should marry. Alexander Joseph II of Bertonia and Thayler Prudens III of Nathonia thus met at the Synod of Meehlton, one year after the happy couple met.
After much discussion, and some heated argument, (as both countries wanted their sovereign to rule) things settled down when the couple came and made an announcement. They said that they would gladly leave both kingdoms and run away to Blemia if the kings could not make up their minds. After this threat, agreement came quickly. It was decided that neither Nathonia nor Bertonia should loose its sovereignty in the marriage, but that each should continue to be a kingdom in its own right. This pleased all of the ministers of each country, except for the minister of war in Bertonia. He was intent on forcing the couple to leave the realms for Blemia. He was Alexander II’s brother, Stephen. If Alexander had no children in the country when he died, Stephen would then rule.
Of course, this was not made known at the synod. Catastrophe did not rear her ugly head until a week after the synod. Significant parts of the army rebelled, especially at Stephen’s headquarters in Apocalypse City. It was only because of the Gunpowder Revolution that Alexander II could get things under control again. He marched on Apocalypse City with only half the troops, while Stephen marched south with a large force. Stephen’s force was nearly three fourths cavalry, while Alexander’s force was nearly all infantry. Stephen’s cavaliers were armed with lance and saber, some of them carrying pistols. Alexander’s force was mostly pikemen, with muskets and cannon interspersed lightly. The forces met thirteen miles northwest of Holem, and fought a bloody battle there. Repeatedly Stephen’s cavaliers charged Alexander’s squares of pike and musket. Repeatedly Stephen was thrown back. Finally, he took his cue and left in a self-imposed banishment to Gotham.
Alexander spared Gothamia and Stephen, as he did not pursue them. But this was not the proper course of action. For all his appeasing, Alexander’s descendant would only receive blood and pain. But that was not yet apparent.
As per the Synod of Meehlton, Avagalia Prudens and Bartholomew Joseph were married six weeks after the battle. Their first years were a happy ones. Avagalia became pregnant only one month after the wedding. She gave birth to a boy, Alfred Joseph. The countries rejoiced. But then, only six years after, in 1338, both Alexander and Thayler died. The former was thrown from his horse into a tree, while the latter drowned in a boating accident. The happy couple had the responsibility of governing two countries placed upon them. It was decided later that year that the couple would spend one year in Naton, the capital city of Nathonia, and one year in Neva, the capital city of Bertonia. Therefore, they would be able to govern this large territory.
Of course, this left Neva, and the throne of Bertonia, absent for a considerable time. This proved to be too tempting a prize for Stephen in Gotham. He had been working for King Alfonz X of Gotham in reforming his military. Of course, he was incorporating the same pike and musket tactics that had defeated him near Holem. In the summer of 1341, Stephen sailed his Gothamian army all the way down the Great River to the sea. There he seized power in Neva. He also had Gothamian agents dispatched to the roadway between Naton and Meehlton. When the royal couple heard of the disaster in Neva, they boarded the royal coach and made their way back toward the border, right into the hands of the enemy agents. They made quick work of the whole coach guard, driving the coach off a cliff near Meehlton. Therefore, the only survivors of both royal families were little nine year old Alfred and his evil uncle Stephen.
No one could argue that Stephen was the legitimate ruler of Bertonia. No other nobles dared to counter his claim. He had royal blood. The Nathonians, however, had their doubts. The war minister, Dynimus Boyer, decided to make the little prince his king. But this was short lived, as Stephen’s gunpowder-trained troops stormed into Nathonia to claim the crown. There was little fighting, as Nathonia still relied on sword and cavalier. Dynimus’ last act, before the enemy armies laid siege to Naton itself, was to send little Prince Alfred on board ship into the western sea. No one heard from him for twenty years, although there were rumors concerning his life in a foreign court.
Stephen rapidly subdued the Liliputians and the Blemians with the same gunpowder tactics as before. Although these two countries had some gunpowder trained troops, they were no match for the Bertonians. In the case of the Liliputians, the Bertonians had more experience in that way of fighting. The Liliputians routinely still used cavalcades and lances, while their pikemen and musketeers were only used as a rear-guard. The Blemians, although they had the training and the tactics, lacked the numbers.
Therefore, a year before Stephen I died in 1351, the whole of the southern continent, from Liliputia to Nathonia, from Gotham to Bertonia, was under the sway of the throne in Neva. The next ruler of Bertonia was going to proclaim himself an emperor. During those days, everything was done in the service of power, nothing was done because it was honorable. This corrupted the whole land, turning everyone into thieves and brigands, if not in fact, in feeling.
Villain
Happy Birthday
The morning light glided into Gretchen Joseph’s room. The silk curtains dimmed the light slightly, but it still woke her from her slumber. Today was the day that perhaps she could make things right with her father. It was his birthday! How many years was he now? It must be somewhere around forty. Gretchen herself was only sixteen, but she knew what her father loved. Statuary.
It was just for that reason that she hired a Gothamian stonemason, William Pret his name. She wanted him to make a statue in the form of the fabled Gregory “Bright Sword” I, who, being the first king of Bertonia, brought the city states of Johnston and Apocalypse City together. Of course, she knew well that these were not the original names of these cities. She forgot what they were, but that was not important. Perhaps her father would think it vain, but perhaps not. She had told this Pret character to make Gregory’s face like the face of her father. The unveiling was scheduled for later in the afternoon. She had much preparation to do.
As she began her morning routine of freshening up, she decided to think about what had come between her and her father. In the past few months, she had read some of the history surrounding the rise of the empire. Her favorite work was the History of the Kings of Bertonia. While she sponged off the sleep from her eyes, she remembered how liberating it had been to read their tales of the kings of Bertonia. How they persevered in harsh circumstances against a host of enemies, not to mention Goth Plagur, that great destroyer. But that was ancient history. When she got to the modern era, the last three hundred years or so, the scales fell from her eyes and she truly saw her place in history. She was not sure about the legitimacy of her family’s claim to the throne. While most of the books were burned by her great-grandfather, Stephen II, some survived. Especially among these were the books produced by the Lumenadi, who lived somewhere in the western mountains. These were a monk-like class of men who were dedicated to preserving Bertonian history, or at least their verison of it.
As she began to brush her long amber hair, she began to think of that terrible day when she asked her father if what the Lumenadi were writing was true. His face went white with shock, and then red with rage as he learned what she had been reading. She remembered how angry he had been, how he chastised poor Hanna Witherstone, her tutor, for teaching her the ancient script of Bertonian, rather than the more modern script used in trade. She didn’t need to know such things. Right then and there, he almost banished her and dear Hanna outright. She didn’t want to go to some far flung corner of the empire. She loved her life in Neva. Perhaps she loved it too much, for she was willing to accommodate her father in some things. She consoled herself by thinking that her father was not Stephen II, who burned the books, or even Stephen I, who sought to kill or capture his nephew.
Although her father hadn’t banished her or killed her, from that day he had taken the books away from her tutor. The only book they had not found was the book that she kept under her bed, the very same history book that had raised all the questions. They hadn’t searched her quarters yet, at least not that she knew. And she didn’t really expect it either. She was a bit unschooled in the ways of the world. Still, she knew that her father did not look on her with as much affection as before. Would he eventually banish her?
No, she thought, looking in the mirror. My father is a good man. He will understand. And he will just love the statue I have made for him!
* * *
That noon, Gretchen found William Pret in the courtyard. He was just veiling the statue, making sure everything was ready for the great unveiling that afternoon at the Emperor’s birthday party. He was happy to serve in this way, even happier because of the money he would make.
“Everything is ready, princess. Don’t worry, I am sure that the king will love the likeness.”
“Thank you, Mr. Pret.” He had the look of a man who worked all night, with dark places under his eyes the color of charcoal. “Perhaps you need to get a rest?”
“No, I couldn’t, princess Gretchen. Don’t worry.”
She didn’t. She wasn’t really the least bit concerned for him. It was just something she said to appear nice. But that was that. She couldn’t help him if he didn’t want to be helped. “Well then, let’s wait for the crowds.”
The nobles came first, sitting in the front row of the seats in the garden. They were the lords and ladies of the surrounding towns of Bertonia. Supposedly they were in charge, but each town also elected a mayor, who was in charge of keeping the peace and making laws for each of the towns. The noblemen were supposed to provide for the peace by keeping knights in armor. But the day had long past since knights in armor were anything but ornamental. Still, Grethchen loved the pageantry of it all. The knights were all decked out in the plate armor and helmets of an age gone by. They had plumes of feather, of different colors, each signifying which nobleman they served.
Then came the military. While the knights were military men themselves, they were more the personal bodyguards for the nobility. The early afternoon sun glinted off of the tips of their pikes. Each pike had a regimental flag flapping in the breeze. The muskets the men carried were all of the new type. Gretchen couldn’t help hearing about them, because her father talked incessantly about them. They had a match lock rather than a touch hole, so they could be fired by pulling a trigger rather than by putting the match over the priming hole. The differences were lost on her, but supposedly it would give Bertonia an advantage over anyone who would challenge her. Not that there were many challengers. She counted four ranks of Pikemen for each rank of Musketeers.
After the Military came the common folk. These, of course, were not just any common folk, but these were the favored of the Emperor. They were artisans and craftsmen, guildsmen one and all. No farmers were found there, for farmers were not allowed into the city. And the poor were not represented. But Gretchen didn’t think about that at all. She merely saw their outfits, their finery, and realized that hers was just a little bit out of date. Well, she would have to remedy that. Perhaps after today her father would give her more clothes. She gave no thought to the fact that many people went around in rags and would have been glad to wear her old, outdated clothing.
Finally, the trumpeters came, each holding large brass trumpets. She watched as they began their fanfare. The sound poured over the growing crowds in piercing waves, each one calling all eyes to attention. Then the herald stepped forward, dressed in a fine suit of chain mail armor, with an embossed golden helmet and leather leg armor. It was a throwback to an earlier age, but things changed slowly in the Bertonian Palace. The herald began to read...
“Now appearing on the fortieth anniversary of his birth, in this the eighteenth year of his coronation, today being the 28th day of Rainwood, in the spring of the year 1589 from the creation of the world, your Emperor, Vladimir Joseph the IX, may the Maker save him!”
The crowd erupted. Gretchen smiled a bright smile for her father as he appeared at the dias. He smiled back at her. Perhaps all was forgiven and forgotten? Maker be praised! Her heart leaped within her. He began to speak.
“Dear friends, dear subjects, the Maker has made me your king, your emperor, your ruler. I am proud that now, in my eighteenth year, I have kept the peace, putting down the rebellious Lumenadi wherever I have found them. I will continue this in the years to come.
“I want to express my appreciation at your love for me, and for my administration. You make the rigors of governing such a people easy to endure.
“Now, this being my fortieth birthday, I am told that my daughter has something to present to me. What is it, my dear Gretchen?”
All was forgiven! She was beaming as she bounced out into the courtyard toward the conspicuous, lumpy formation of sheet. She stole a glace from William Pret. He said, “Just pull the chord, dear princess, and it will be revealed.” She glanced around, caught up in the moment. She said, “Dear father, I want to give this statuary to you, because you are exactly like this in my heart and in the hearts of all your countrymen.” Her heart fluttered as she pulled at the chord, once, twice, it would not budge. Finally, she gave a great yank the third time, and it fell free.
Several things then happened at the same moment. Everything changed quickly, ever so quickly. The first thing Gretchen realized was the fact that the sheet had indeed floated down around the statuary. But while the sheet floated, the earth began to shake in a great earthquake. Something terrible was happening! The whole crowd gasped in fear, collectively drawing back from the walls and anything that might fall on them. In places, the stonework did fall, and the plaster cracked. Dust filled the courtyard, as people began to scream. Gretchen even felt pieces falling off the statue, flecks of stone here and there. Everyone crouched down to the ground in the shaking, roaring, gasping mess of people, dust, and stone.
Finally, it seemed like after an eternity, it was all over. The dust cloud began to settle. The king, nobility, military, and commoners all picked themselves up and dusted themselves off. There was a general coughing, and after that silence. The dust, the second veil, revealed disaster. A crack had formed at the base of the statuary. Where there had been no inscription, there was now a crack that formed words, written in the modern script. “The Daughter Shall Fell Her Father.”
It was no accident. How could it be? It was apocalyptic. And the same message was written on all four sides of the statue. Everyone saw it at once, and everyone began to shout. “Seize her!” “Get the stone-worker too!” The military ran forward. The Emperor gave his approval, not with words, but with a stern look.
Gretchen and William were surrounded quickly. The pikes were leveled at their mortal bodies. Gretchen cried out, “Father! I don’t know what is going on! I didn’t write that! You have to believe me!” But he just stared at her.
* * *
Gretchen was roughly bound, half dragged and half carried to her father’s inner chamber, where he and his advisors met regularly. Her father followed the guards that were handling her, and with him the man known as Blacktalon. Like a constant shadow, this man followed her father. He stuck to him, almost like he had bound himself to her father. And her father was under his sway. Everyone called him “Blacktalon” because he had an eagle’s claw tied with a string around his neck. When he wanted to think, Blacktalon would hold the eagle’s claw in his left hand and put each of his five fingers, one at a time, on each of the claws of the eagle. He was doing this as he walked behind the king into the chamber.
Blacktalon was the first to speak. “It’s those cursed Lumenadi, sire. They must have used your daughter to put a curse on the statue.”
“If that is the case, then the prophecy is really true.” said her father.
“Only if we let it remain true, sire. We all know that nothing always happens exactly the way it is prophesied. The Maker is great, yes, but he uses humans to do what he wills. If the human element is taken out, there is nothing the Maker can do.” Blacktalon could not overtly criticize the Maker in public, but everyone knew he did it in secret. The Lumenadi called him a false prophet. Well, so Blacktalon called the Lumenadi false prophets too. Whatever the case, whoever was right, Blacktalon had the ear of the Emperor.
“What evidence do you have for this?”
“Sire, I point out the evidence that is from the Lumenadi themselves. They had prophecy after prophecy that their Maker would protect them, take care of them, and help them to fight their battles. But what has come of them? They are exiled from their city, they live in a shack in the snowy mountains, and their influence wanes day after day.”
“Yes, but they say the Maker told them this would happen too…”
“Rubbish! Those old men are still upset about something that happened centuries ago. They need to become enlightened. Anyone that pays attention to them should be locked up. Anyone that actually believes what they teach are a danger to this empire and probably should be banished or worse.” He was pointing at Gretchen when he said this.
At just that moment, the door to the room opened. It was Duke George Rathburn of Ox-Ot. Gretchen had heard of him before, but had never had the pleasure of meeting him.
“What did you hear, O noble duke?” hissed Blacktalon.
“Enough to hear things that would make my ears burn with anger. It is a vile man who would banish a father’s only daughter, or worse.”
“Rathburn, leave us! You have no right to be here…” The Emperor bellowed.
“I only came because I feared for your daughter’s life, sire… please forgive my intrusion.” It really wasn’t an intrusion after all, however, because Duke Rathburn was also the minister of farm, and had a seat at this inner chamber. But he began to back out of the room.
“Just one more thing, if I may, sire…”
“And what would that be?”
“I think that blaming your daughter for an earthquake, something that only the Maker can do, would be rather presumptuous, don’t you think? Yet if you really fear her, perhaps banishment is the best policy…”
“Get out! Your advice is like poison to my ears!” screamed Blacktalon. “The girl deserves banishment or worse. We should leave her on one of the eastern islands, those rocky crags would be too good for her. Let the Maker help her there!”
“I know He will, even there…” And with that the Duke of Ox-Ot shut the door.
“Sire, you cannot possibly be thinking that this is the correct way to go. You must banish her completely.”
“No, daddy, please, I didn’t mean to do anything…”
“Quiet!” her father shouted. Then he said cruel words to Blacktalon. “We will banish her, but only if that stoneworker confesses to the crime. If he doesn’t confess, we will kill both of them…”
* * *
They began the torture of William Pret on that very day. Perhaps he would spill his guts, if not figuratively, then literally. One would save the princess, the other condemn her. Blacktalon looked down into the pit of torture, deep within the interior ministry headquarters. He had this place built thirty years ago, to his exact specifications. While the former emperors, may their names be treasured, took great pains to cajole the people, this emperor didn’t have much time for that. Therefore, the people needed to be controlled by other means. This was one of them. He never expressly told anyone of the existence of this place. But word leaked out. People who were “detained” by his impositions came back with faces white with fear. It worked nicely. The Emperor denied any knowledge of this place, but secretly he too kept it well funded.
William Pret would break soon. They had already roughed him up a bit before bringing him here. He had a black eye, and was holding one arm that appeared to be broken. Well, too bad. Blacktalon gave one command. “Tell me what you know, and things will go quicker.”
“The princess....” came the sputtering cry, obviously Mr. Pret had heard about this place. Pity he would not be able to tell his story. “She commissioned me to make a sculpture of her father...”
“That’s true enough, Mr. Pret, but we know that she has read works by the Lumenadi. They are dangerous. Did you work with them?”
“No!”
“Now, now, Mr. Pret, we know that’s not true.” Blacktalon nodded in the direction of one of his minions. Ropes were placed around William’s ankles. All of a sudden, William’s feet were pulled out from under him. He fell face down to the floor, not catching himself in time. The arm was broken, it was definitely apparent now. The man screamed in pain. Then they hoisted him upside down, hanging by his feet. His face began to get red.
“Mr. Pret, we can stop this whenever you like. Just tell me that you worked with the Lumenadi.”
“What... about... the girl?” Apparently he had taken a shine to the Emperor’s wayward daughter. Well, that was sweet. But it didn’t touch his heart at all.
“I didn’t ask you about the princess.” Blacktalon again nodded to the right. The man there kicked Mr. Pret squarely in the back. The sound of snapping ribs filled the room. Again, the screams came.
“I... I don’t know... I’ve told you everything I know... Please! Please! Let me down!”
“Alright, Mr. Pret, you win.” Blacktalon made a slicing motion, and the man at the hoist controls dropped him on his head. Mr. Pret was still alive, but was moaning on the stone floor.
“Bind him. We’ll get the truth out of him yet.”
* * *
Now Gretchen was pushed and pulled roughly into her room. The soldiers from the ministry of internal security set her in her chair and tied her to the chair tightly. Earlier this morning she had sat here, thinking to herself that things were going well. Now, everything was falling apart around her, not to mention her room.
The security men were methodically ripping apart her room, looking for any evidence of treason. Her father, his face red with anger, his lips pursed, stood in the doorway, steaming.
It looked like the men were actually enjoying their work, ripping apart the room of a sixteen year old princess. They threw all her beautiful dresses on the floor, and then proceeded to walk all over them while searching the wardrobes. They looked in the drawers of her dresser, dumping the contents all over the place. Anything that looked like it might conceal any evidence was ripped open, roughly handled, if not outright destroyed.
Finally, they turned their attention to her bed. Gretchen’s face began to well up with tears. After tearing through the mattress, spreading the stuffing all over the room, they looked underneath the mattress and found the book.
“Sire!”
Her father quickly walked to the men. One of them spat on the floor in disgust. “It’s a book, sire, and it has the old script of the Lumenadi.”
“You should have known better, Gretchen. I cannot bare to look at you. Minister Blacktalon says that William Pret is one of the Lumenadi’s lackeys.”
“I didn’t know that, father!”
“You’ve read their books. You’ve paid attention to their speeches. And now you’ve threatened my throne! What should I do with you?”
“I wanted to give you that present as a gift!” Her sobs rang throughout the throne room. “I want you to live forever, daddy! I don’t want to rule, I want you to love me!”
Anger welled up in her father’s face. It was redder and hotter than ever before. “You think I don’t love you? I’ve given you everything you have! And what have you done for me? You allowed this Pret character to threaten my life! You allowed yourself to be used in a plot to take away my crown! You are a terrible daughter! I no longer can love you! Get out of my sight!” The crescendo of anger rang through the torch-lit interior. It was night. The light had fallen, and now it fell heavily in Gretchen’s heart.
“Please, father, Please!” she cried, pitifully on the stone floor, face puffed up with tears. Her father looked at her without mercy.
“Guards!” He cried. “Come and take her away. I never want to see her again!”
The rough hands of the Imperial Guardsmen were worse than daggers. Humiliated, utterly humiliated, she left her father, heart heavy with sadness.
Hero
They put Gretchen in the dungeon, a stinking place, a hole in the ground. It would be left to Blacktalon whether or not she would be executed or banished. Gretchen thought for sure that it was execution.
She sat there in the dungeon, crying. She cried so much that her eyes could no longer produce tears, and still the sobs came, uncontrollable. It must have been the middle of the night when the guard came back. He unlocked the door, and grabbed her by the arm. At first, Gretchen thought that this was it, that she was headed for the chopping block. But then, when she came out into the hallway, there was Hanna Witherstone.
“Dear child, I am sorry I got you into this trouble. Please forgive me.”
“Hanna, I… what is going on?”
“I have my friends in high places, dear one. The king has relented, and has decided that you should be banished. I am to be banished as well…”
The guard pushed her and said, “Enough talk… Move!” Hanna stumbled on the stones and fell to the floor. But she quickly picked herself up.
The guard kept pushing them until they were outside the palace. But there, the guard stopped. There were other guards there too, but they didn’t lift up a hand against them. Finally, a man walked his horse over to them.
“Ladies, I’m sorry the accommodations are not the best, but these two horses are for you.” He motioned to the two steeds that were without mount.
“It, it’s you, Duke Rathburn!” said Gretchen.
“No time to talk, ladies, you must leave now. Ride west, and then north to Blemia when you have crossed the river. Don’t stop, or Blacktalon will come and find you. You are banished by the order of the Emperor.”
“What about Mr. Pret?” asked Gretchen.
“My dear princess, you cannot worry about him right now, you must worry about yourself. Even I cannot save you if your father changes his mind. But if you must know, Pret is being tortured right now. If you don’t leave, you will likely suffer the same fate. You will never be known as Gretchen Joseph again. You should take the name “Whitherstone” or whatever name you like. You should live as far away from here as you can. You must leave!”
“Come child, let us go…” It was Hanna’s turn to encourage her. The guards, for all their professionalism, were leering at them both. It was the look that a wild animal gives when its prey, for a time, escapes. So, they left…
* * *
Thus began three months of sadness. It was a dark beginning to her journey. She left with only the clothes on her back, and her tutor for all of her sixteen years. Hanna was a good-natured woman who, along with raising Gretchen, had also suggested that a statue of her father would be the best thing to assuage tensions between the two. As she taught her the old script, she felt partly responsible for what had happened to the poor girl. Thankfully, she had received a small sum of money for her few troubles as tutor, and had no way to spend it at all on herself. Therefore, the small sum piled up over sixteen years had amounted to a small, tidy fortune. They spent some of the money that first night on provisions and a change of clothing. Gretchen remembered how silly she appeared that first time she put on commoner clothing. She felt that they were dirty even though they were brand new! And how to ride a horse? She had never really been trained in the art!
After falling several times, she began to get a knack for it, if not because of Hanna’s coaching, then by sheer necessity. They both thought that the next fall would kill her, or at least wound her terribly.
They rode all night, and in the wee hours of the morning, found a place to sleep underneath King Stephen’s great bridge. Built some two hundred and fifty years before, this stone monstrosity was the greatest architectural achievement in this age. It also symbolized another kind of bridge for Gretchen. This is as far as she had traveled from Neva, her home. So, she lay there under one of the massive spans of the great bridge, half shivering because of the early morning cold, half shaking for the mere excitement of it all. She was about to cross the great bridge.
The next day, she woke up with Hanna and they decided to cross at once. The earlier the better, they thought. There would be less a chance of meeting someone at mid span during the morning, for there would be less traffic.
“Hannah, is it true about what they say about this bridge?”
The bridge was a monstrosity. So much stone, such high spans, nearly two hundred feet above the surface of the water, and nothing but a mere low battlement to keep the errant carts from falling over the precipice. She had heard stories from her friends at court about animals, mules mainly, who got spooked as they crossed the mid span. It was common wisdom among them that there was just not enough air for the mule to breath in order for it to think properly. Therefore, they would dash over the edge of the bridge, taking cart, passenger, and load along with them to a watery grave. Well, if that’s not the way it was, she would know soon enough.
“What do they say about it?”
Gretchen related the stories she had heard. Hanna, however, just laughed a knowing laugh. Gretchen wondered what else she needed to learn. What would she do without Hanna?
* * *
After the bridge, Hanna took her to her family home, a small farmyard outside of Johnston. There they stayed. Hanna had two brothers, Charles and Samuel, who worked the ground in that area. They were older than Hanna, as near as Gretchen could tell, and they were bachelors. Hanna, too, had no family, except for her. In the two months they spent there, Hanna and Gretchen became even closer than before. The teaching about Bertonia continued, along with milking the cows, churning the butter, and even planting. It was hard work, and her pampered hands quickly became callused. But it was all worthwhile. She also learned quite a bit about the real world.
Once she helped Charles and Samuel load some pigs onto a pontoon boat near Johnston. She asked, “Where are these pigs going?”
“We’ve got a fair market price down in Neva, but we could sell them for a better price up in Gotham.” Said Charles.
“I suppose the Emperor likes to keep us under control.” said Samuel.
“Why does he do that?” Gretchen naively asked.
“Gretchen, there are some things you need to learn about where you came from. Not everyone thinks your father is doing the best for the land.” replied Samuel.
“He surely didn’t do what is best for me. I didn’t do anything wrong, and here I am, banished.” Gretchen groused for a bit.
“Well, your father probably didn’t do it, it was more like that worm Blacktalon infested his thinking. Who has ever heard of the Lumenadi using a sculptor to send the king a message?” asked Charles.
The pigs were almost loaded by now, each of them going up a narrow gangplank. The crew of the barge kept working without worrying about the two men and the girl.
“Remember, Charles, the Maker can do things that we haven’t even heard about. The Maker is Almighty, He rules.” Samuel preached. “I wouldn’t doubt that this is all true, a revelation for Gretchen here, to show her what must be done in the future.”
Charles and Samuel were both believers in the Maker, even more than Gretchen. Gretchen liked all of the stories, but Charles and Samuel thought they were the truth as well. If that was so, then Gretchen had an amazing part to play in all of this. She still remembered the inscription.
“Well, whatever it was, I am glad to be here with you two, and Hanna.” It was true, the time on the farm was the best of her short life. But it was about to be short lived too.
In fact, little did they know that one of the barge workers was an informant for Blacktalon.
* * *
Just two days later, Gretchen was in the little village of Farmersbrook when she saw a troop of cavaliers ride into town. They were big, dark military men, accustomed to hardship. It looked like one of them was missing an eye. He turned out to be the troop commander, as he asked the mayor where they could find the Whitherstone farm.
The mayor looked directly at her, but then rapidly glanced away. He was on the steps of the village hall, and didn’t answer at first. Gretchen ducked between two houses, catty corner from all the action. A caviler rode by, and leered at her with a terrifying smile. If that was the way he looked at her when she wasn’t his enemy, how would it be when they found her at home? She hadn’t left Bertonia, as she should have. Hanna and her brothers had taken her in. They thought that Farmersbrook was far enough out of the way, but they were wrong.
“Now Mr. Mayor, I know you don’t want us to torch your hall. And I know that you don’t want us to run you through. Blacktalon wants to know where the Whitherstone farm is. If you don’t tell me, things could get ugly.”
Gretchen heard enough. The Mayor was a good man, but he would tell. He was just as much a part of the government as Blacktalon. She ran for it, dropping the flour and dates that she had just purchased at the market. She decided to cut across the country, maybe she would get to the farm before the troop.
She ran along the brook, over the road, and through the field, as fast as she could. Her hair flailed like a whip in the wind, and her face was wet with sweat. The dust clung to it, and she felt the pain in her side from exertion. But she had to beat the troop. It was all she could do! She had to warn the brothers, and Hanna!
Finally, just as she crested the last hill before home, she heard the steady beat of horses hooves on the road. Her heart sank. There were Samuel, Charles, and Hanna, feeding the cows. They worked together nicely. But everything was interrupted when they heard the horses. Samuel quickly ran for the tool shed, and began digging in the dirt. Charles and Hanna ran for the house. All she could do was watch. The troop streamed into the farmyard, wielding swords. They struck at anything they could, first wounding the cattle. They bellowed loudly, kicking up dust with the horses. Then, all of a sudden, a shot rang out, and one of the cavaliers fell. The rest dismounted, they must have been under orders, and stood to fire. At point blank range they riddled the area where the tool shed stood.
Another shot rang out from the house, but no cavaliers fell. The man with the one eye yelled at the house, “Come out, we just want the girl. She’s a traitor. You’ve got to give her up. The Maker said something about traitors, am I right?”
The only answer that came from the house was a musket shot. Another cavalier fell, this one wounded. He screamed. It occurred to Gretchen that the battlefields of glory that she heard about all the time in her schooling were probably sorry affairs.
The Cavaliers would not let up. “Alright men, load another shot. Sappers, prepare to fire the house.” As one man, the cavaliers reloaded their carbines. Charles, from the interior of the house, was probably frantically trying to do the same, but he never got off another shot. All at once, again the cavaliers’ weapons burst forth flame. Again, the whole yard was filled with smoke. Gretchen watched in horror as men wearing a slightly different uniform threw bottles filled with fiery liquid onto the roof of the house. It began burning in earnest. She heard screams as Hanna, poor Hanna, was in pain. She sat and wept, her tears stinging her cheeks, mingling with the dust and sweat of her run. They just watched as the whole house went up in flames. Finally, mercifully, they shot another volley, presumably to kill whoever was burning inside. Then, they left.
All Gretchen could do was sit and sob. That’s all she did for hours and hours. It seemed like just when she had found people who were going to protect her and care for her, the Maker took them away. It seemed like she was so small, so alone in the dark world. That was the worst of her times. It was even worse than having her father speak so harshly to her. It was even worse than the roadside conditions, or the hard work. What would become of her now? She wept and wept, and then, finally she just began walking to the west. But just as she was in her deepest despair, things changed again for the better.
* * *
Simon Crumper was an honest man, a servant of the Maker, as well as a man of the road. He peddled his wares of food, pots, pans, and various other implements and medicines throughout the area.
That very day he had been harassed by a group of cavaliers who were headed east on the same road. Although he paid the tax to the emperor, he had no love for the emperor’s policies. His main argument was against the oppressive taxes the emperor levied against the people. They were a hindrance to business and growth, and they only went toward maintaining a military that subjugated the peoples, at least that was his opinion. The harassment the cavaliers offered was nothing more than insults and vulgarities. However, a citizen should not tolerate this kind of treatment, even by the military.
There was other evidence of harsh treatment along the road. Simon pulled off the road in view of a burned out farmhouse with three charred bodies. Doubtless the work of his country’s cavaliers. What was one to do when such outrages were done by the very ones who were supposed to protect these people.
The embers were still warm, so the fire had just died down before he came. He whispered a phrase of a Lumenadi text before getting back on his wagon and continuing down the road.
Seven miles and an hour later, he noticed a young woman about a half a mile down the road. She seemed to him a mere speck, but she knew it to be a person. A young girl traveling alone was not very rare, closer to the cities. But out here, in between the cities, well, there was greater danger. Again, Crumper whispered a little prayer about the protection for travelers, and spurred his team on a little quicker.
He caught up to the young lady. When she was only a few yards away, she startled at the sound of the cart. “Greetings, young one… Where are you going?”
Gretchen turned around to reveal tear stained cheeks. “I… I don’t know…”
“Well, my dear, this area is no place for you… Where are you from?”
“I was from a farm outside of Farmersbrook… at least most recently that’s where I was from…”
Simon nodded knowingly. He had seen the reason this young woman was crying. She was a beautiful young woman, and had a face that didn’t belong on the roads, but perhaps in a palace or in the nobility. But she was obviously distressed about her circumstances.
“You can come along with me, if you like… what is your name again?”
“Gretchen.”
“Pleased to meet you, Gretchen, I am Simon Crumper. I deliver supplies to all these people around here. I know just about everybody, but I’m sorry I haven’t met you yet…”
“I have only been around here for the Summer. Before that I lived in Neva.”
Simon looked at her with a curious face. He seemed to know something, perhaps a little bit, about her circumstances. He paused for a minute, as if waiting for her to volunteer more information. When she didn’t say anything, he went on. “Well, Gretchen, I’m headed for Cimmeron, and from there I will travel south and east again back to Neva. If you are willing, you can come with me.”
Gretchen thought for a minute. She looked over the man with a little bit of suspicion. He looked harmless, at least mostly so. She decided he wasn’t the type to hurt a young girl on the road.
“I would be happy to come with you… I am supposed to go to Blemia anyway, and I hear that Cimmeron is on the boarder, is it not?”
“It surely is. When you get there, you can walk up the road to Applegate, which is just over the cut pass. I know a man there by the name of Jeremy Bremer. He owns an eating establishment by the name of the kindly toad. I’m sure he’ll give you work, and a place to stay.”
Gretchen was a little astonished that this man had her whole life planned for her, but she didn’t balk at his suggestions. She just climbed into the wagon beside him and sat down.
* * *
The ride to Cimmeron took just a few days, but even so the peddler stopped at every single little town or farm on the way, trying to sell his wares. He was an elderly gentleman, wearing a top hat and having a mustache that curled up at the ends. And he was a caring and kindly sort of man, even though he drove a hard bargain.
There was one time when he stopped by an old run down farm shanty. Out came a mother and three little children. This time, Simon didn’t haggle. He didn’t even tell her the asking price. He just asked her, “What do you need, Mrs. Smally?”
“Oh, the babe isn’t feeling well again. She has a fever. And I need some more flour.”
“I have just the thing for a fever. The Doctors down in Johnston say that what’s in this vile here is sure to knock out any fever that’s meant to be tamed.” He gave her the flask, and a gentle smile. “And dear lady, help yourself to the cornmeal and the flour sacks in the back. I bought too much again in Applegate. My suppliers wouldn’t take too kindly if I returned with rotten merchandise.”
“Oh, dear Mr. Crumper, how can we repay you?”
“Dear lady, just bring up those kids in the fear and love of the Maker, and that will be payment enough. Now, do you have any chickens that I can sell for you?”
She had three that she could part with, and he promised to get her a fair price. After leaving that little farm, Gretchen asked him why he just let her take what was his without any price, or even any credit.
“My dear Gretchen, you’ve got to learn. The Maker has put people here in this world for us to help them. It wouldn’t do for me to be cross with dear Mrs. Smally back there. She’s a lovely old woman, who is in hard straits. Her husband died in the uprising just a few years ago. Her sons have all gone off to fight in the rebellion. She’s left all alone, and I promised to look out for her.”
“You’re helping a lady whose sons are fighting the Empire?” Gretchen knew that there was periodic fighting, small raids, especially in the mountains. It was always, “Those confounded mountaineers” back in Neva. “Hang them all on a ten foot pole!” was his father’s instruction to Blacktalon. But she didn’t know anyone who had joined the rebellion. Now she did.
“You might think I’m crazy, or unpatriotic, or maybe even irreligious for helping the rebels. But my dear Gretchen, you must realize that things weren’t always like they are now. My grandfather told stories about the kings before King Stephen. And those were good times for all. One could really make a good living and have peace and quiet in those times. That’s what I’m looking forward to, although I don’t suppose I’ll see those times return. Not in my lifetime. Maybe in yours though... I guess I’m doing this for you, and for people like you...”
He rambled on for a while about the good old days, and Gretchen thought for a minute. Maybe that was why Stephen II burned all the books. Maybe the Lumenadi were all right after all. Maybe the Maker was going to do something. She kept her thoughts to herself, as the cart bumped on toward Cimmeron River.
Finally, she crossed over into Blemia. Simon gave her some last minute advice. “Dear Gretchen, the people in Blemia are good. They won’t hurt you. Just head north to Bainsburg, then west toward Applegate. Between Bainsburg and Applegate is the pass. It’ll be a hard climb, so take some provisions with you from Bainsburg. Here’s a ten crown piece, it should get you what you need.”
“Thank you, Simon! I’ll repay you someday...”
“No need, Gretchen. I was honored to share your company, you behaved as a princess of Bertonia.” And he was off.
She was very curious about that Simon man. Did he know who she was? Why did he help her? She didn’t know, but she was grateful.
* * *
From Cimmeron River, the road was uneventful, and now she was walking through the town of Applegate. The people seemed happier, more prosperous than all the other people she had seen recently. They readily smiled at her, and one or two of them said, “Good afternoon.” It was these small kindnesses that induced her to stay.
Then she remembered the advice that Simon had given to her. She looked down the main street of Applegate and found a placard that had a green-grey amphibian smiling down on the street corner. So she entered the “Kindly Toad”. She found inside a counter of sorts, round tables, and four old men seated at one of them. They apparently were playing some kind of a game, as there were cards in their hands and coins on the table. Gretchen had heard about games like that before, but she had never seen people actually play them.
“Wait for a spell, Hobart, it seems we have a customer...”
“Humph, Jeremy, She’s just here to ask for directions.”
“I tell you, she’s a customer. I can tell.”
“My cards are skunky anyway.” The man put them on the table, face down.
The other two men looked at each other in the eye, then looked back to their cards without a sound.
“What may I do for you, Miss? I’m Jeremy Bremer, the owner of this humble establishment.” The man had a white beard that dangled down to his chest. He had blue eyes that seemed to twinkle, and although his clothes were obviously not the best Gretchen had ever seen, he wore them with the kind of self respect one usually finds in a military unit. He was old, but he wasn’t ancient. His gaze communicated both wisdom and playfulness. If Gretchen ever had a normal grandfather, she would have realized these traits as grandfatherly right away.
“I need a place to stay. I’m looking to make Applegate my home. You all seem to be so, well, nice here...”
“Really! Well, I’ll have to tell the mayor. Of course, Miss, you haven’t met all of us. Hobart over there really has a way with words once in awhile, Maker bless him. He knows he needs it.” Jeremy paused to scratch his chin underneath his long beard. “Miss, you can surely spend the night here at the Kindly Toad, but we’re going to need more permanent housing for you. And we’ve got to find you something to do...”
“Yes... That would be nice.”
“May I ask, Miss, where you have come from?”
“You may ask, but I don’t necessarily want to tell you.”
“Have you come from that country to the southeast of here?”
“I suppose you could say that.” Gretchen winced at the admonition. It seemed that Franklin was not very happy with that country. “But I don’t want to have any part in that country anymore.”
“Well, Miss, we could tell you that Blemia here is a protectorate of Bertonia. We could tell you that we’re all happy about that, happy about the Bertonian troops that are in Fialaville. Happy with the pirates. Happy with the taxes. Happy with the trade embargo. But we ain’t. We are not happy at all. Isn’t that right, Hobart?”
Gretchen could tell that she needed to find some common ground with these gentlemen if she wanted to stay. “Well, I’m not happy with that place either. I’ve been banished from my home for no fault of my own. I’ve lost my closest friends. They were shot and burned by cavaliers. I’ve seen the terrible hardships people are made to face in that land. I wonder if the Maker doesn’t have it in for me. Such things keep on happening to people who are around me.”
“You think the Maker has done all of this to you?”
“Yes! Who else? And why does He do it? It’s almost made me think that there isn’t a maker after all.”
“Almost, or has it?” Jeremy was obviously serious now. Hobart and the other two men were looking up from their cards at the two of them.
“I, I don’t know... I am not sure. It just seems like sometimes we’re just doing what we can, and there isn’t anyone there to either stop us or help us...”
“I know what you mean, my dear. But let me tell you this. I’ve been where you are right now, and I want you to know that it is exactly in the middle of those times that the Maker does help…”