Duty: a novel of Rhynan Read online

  Duty

  A Novel of Rhynan

  Written by

  Rachel Rossano

  Smashword Edition

  ©2013 Rachel Rossano

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form without the prior written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed by a newspaper, magazine, or journal.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Though actual locations may be mentioned, they are used in a fictitious manner and the events and occurrences were invented in the mind and imagination of the author. Similarities of characters to any person, past, present, or future, are coincidental.

  Cover by Rossano Designs (©2013 Rachel Rossano)

  ISBN: 9781301976911

  Also written by Rachel Rossano

  The Mercenary’s Marriage

  http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/83328

  The Crown of Anavrea

  http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/96223

  Exchange

  http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/92034

  Word and Deed

  http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/121981

  Coming Soon

  The King of Anavrea

  Wren (A Romany Epistle Novel)

  This novel is dedicated to Abigail, Elizabeth, Alyssa, JoAnna, and all the readers who love the adventure of the written word.

  Chapter One

  "The red one is mine," he said.

  I didn’t raise my head although instinct urged me to. Father had called me Red. He said I was born screaming, skin deep red like the beets in the garden and hair fiery like the setting sun. The man who spoke was not my father.

  I glanced at him from beneath my cloak’s hood. Arrogant in his size and superior mass, his eyes picked me out of the writhing mass of captives. Early morning sunlight glinted off plain armor and an unadorned helm, yet the unwashed barbarians treated him with the respect due a commander.

  The crowd of women around me parted for the soldier fulfilling his order. Mothers moved back with babes in their arms, toddlers clinging to their skirts. Their fingers clutched older children’s hands or shoulders. A living mass, their voices silenced by the army surrounding them. Their faces spoke eloquently of their fear.

  The soldier, smelling of sweat and sour wine, grabbed my left arm and dragged me out from among them. I didn’t want to bring harm to the women around me. The soldier would injure many before subduing me. I allowed him to pull me toward the commander with only minimal resistance.

  Once free of the captives, however, I yanked from the man’s grip in an attempt to run. Three pairs of rough hands caught hold of my arms before I managed more than a few steps. The stench of their unclean bodies turned my stomach. I gagged as I fought them. They dragged me through the dust and dumped me at his feet.

  I struggled up only to be brought down again. Pressure behind my knees forced me to kneel.

  I lifted my face to glare at the commander.

  “Remove her hood.”

  Someone pulled my cloak half off my shoulders in his enthusiasm. Red curls fell free in a wild mass about my shoulders.

  Silently I cursed the color. If only I had been blessed with plain brown or even blond tresses, I could have hidden in plain sight.

  “My Lady Brielle Solarius, I presume.”

  He had the audacity to meet my glare. His eyes were only glimmers beneath the beaten metal and leather of his helmet. He made no bow or any show of the honor due me. I was a noblewoman. I didn’t claim the right of deference often, but still the fact remained.

  “Might I know your name, barbarian?”

  His reaction did not change his posture. I could not read his emotions.

  “Lord Irvaine is no barbarian.”

  The soldier at my left, a young man barely my senior, shoved me between the shoulders. I resisted, pressing back against his hand despite the burning in my thighs from the effort. Finally I shrugged him off.

  Anger filled me, blinding my reason. Caution, a weak flicker of light in the night of anger, wavered and almost went out. The darkness like a living thing, growing ever stronger, pressed me more closely every second I lingered, waiting to hear my fate. I could not lose control. My people were counting on me. Their families were under my watch.

  “By what right am I treated like this? I am a noble of Rhynan, born of an ancient house and loyal to King Trentham.”

  “Trentham is dead.” Lord Irvaine lifted a gauntleted hand and pointed off to the south. “He fell in battle a fortnight past. Mendal of Ranterland is now king.”

  Panic clutched my chest. Old stories of the unrest that followed a coup flooded my mind. Allegiances sifting with the wind and the death toll rising despite the end of hostilities as the unloyal were killed off and the loyal rewarded.

  “My cousin, Orwin?”

  “Sworn allegiance to my liege, but his sincerity is suspect. You are King Mendal’s guarantee from Orwin that he will remain faithful.”

  I laughed, a bitter sound despite my efforts to quell it.

  “I am a worthless pawn for that purpose. Orwin cares not for my safety. My peril will not hinder his plans a hair’s breadth.”

  “Your peril is not my goal. I seek your submission.”

  Before I could seek clarification, another helmeted soldier approached. This one moved like a man with a purpose. The sudden silence and tension of the men around me clearly marked his importance.

  “All are accounted for, my lord, thirty-five women of marriageable age, twenty-five dwellings with potential to last the winter.”

  “The lord’s hall?”

  “Usable also, given time for cleaning and repair.”

  Lord Irvaine nodded. “Take the quartermaster and assign wives. See to it that the men show respect and offer the women the option to purchase refusal. Give care to look up the fate of their previous mates before presenting them to the officiate for vow recording. Warn the men that I will suffer no abuse. If such is discovered, the offender shall lose his share of spoils and suffer further punishment based on the crime.”

  The soldier bowed and retreated.

  “By what right do you do this?” I demanded. “We are citizens of Rhynan, not cattle to be divided and claimed. These are free women not slaves.”

  Lord Irvaine’s displeasure at my words was evident in his stiffened stance. I savored my small victory.

  “They, you, and this land are tribute to King Mendal from your cousin, part of his measures to convince the king of his shift in allegiance.”

  “You take pleasure in raping women and possessing land not your own? You are no better than the robber barons over the border. They take what they wish without compensating us. You defile the title of noble, my lord!” I spat the title into the torn earth at his feet.

  Answering anger tensed his left arm as his fingers curled into a fist. I lifted my chin and awaited the blow that would reveal his true nature. Instead, he pulled his helmet from his head. Dark, sweat-matted hair plastered his head and dirt streaked down his hollowed cheeks from dark circles around his eyes. He dropped his helm to the ground at my knees. It rolled to rest against my thigh. He stepped forward and leaned down so close I smelled his sweat. I noted the lack of sour wine on
his breath.

  “Look in my face, Lady Solarius, and see the truth. I take no joy from this task. But I am a loyal soldier. I do as my master bids.”

  His dark, haunted eyes bore into mine. Something deep inside my chest stirred. However, anger still possessed my tongue.

  “I see only a monster intent on unleashing his pleasure-seeking men on a village of unarmed women and children.”

  He flinched, a barely perceptible movement in his features.

  “Enough.” Rising to his feet with more grace than I expected, he strode away. “Antano!” A burly man, helmetless and carrying more visible weapons than the other men in the group, answered the call.

  “My lord?”

  “See that she observes the operation, but doesn’t interfere. Then escort her to my quarters by nightfall.”

  “Aye, my lord.” Antano approached respectfully. “This way, my lady.”

  I watched Lord Irvaine stride away among his men. As I rose from the dust, I picked up the helmet. It was heavy, but well made. The leather felt worn and supple. What kind of man hid behind its surface?

  I offered it to my escort.

  “Nay, bring it with you, lady.” Antano loomed over me. “You can return it to him tonight. For now, we must go. He wishes for you to see how your women are treated.”

  He crossed the now empty village center toward the lord’s hall, due east. I followed him, dreading the hours to come. Despite the fleeting inclination to leave it behind, I carried Lord Irvaine’s helmet with me.

  *~*~*~*~*~*~*

  Chapter Two

  Taltana, the village midwife and wise woman, took the news of her only son’s death without the release of tears. Her face stilled, the light in her eyes dimmed, and she stared at the mud wall over the record-keeper’s shoulder.

  “Marriage status?” he asked.

  “Widowed last spring.” Unmoving except her mouth, Taltana’s life withered before my eyes.

  “Age?”

  She flinched and shook her head as though dispelling a dream before looking at the man bent over the leather-encased tome. “Thirty-seven summers.”

  His pen scratched the parchment. “Do you own property?”

  “I maintain the western most hovel, the garden beyond, and a one day’s plow in Lord Wisten’s fields.”

  The recorder grunted and wrote. Then without lifting the tip of the pen, he asked, “Do you wish to marry or pay the price to remain unwed? Either choice requires you house three men under your roof for the winter season. They shall contribute to the household. If you marry, your husband will protect you.”

  “What is the cost of saying nay?”

  “A month’s measure of grain or an animal from your flock or herd.”

  “How can you put a price on her…” Antano’s grip on my upper arm silenced me.

  The record-keeper’s pen paused, but he didn’t lift his head.

  “No interference,” Antano reminded me softly.

  Taltana spoke. “I will marry.”

  The record-keeper nodded. “Proceed through that door.” He flicked ink-stained fingers in the direction of the far doorway and the sunlight beyond. “Your choice of mates will be presented to you.”

  As she passed, Taltana bowed to me. “I don’t blame you, my lady. You had no hand in sending my son to war. Tell Orwin that he owes me a life. I spared him at birth when I convinced his father that he would thrive despite his curved back. Now he has taken my son. Should we cross paths, I’ll claim his life.”

  The cold death in the woman’s eyes froze me to my core.

  Taltana turned away and walked through the door into the stable yard as though she had just discussed the weather. Beyond the opening, her voice greeted the men. I released the breath in my chest.

  “I would warn your cousin, my lady,” Antano advised. “That woman has revenge in her heart. I believe she will kill him as soon as she lays eyes on him.”

  “I know.” A shiver gripped my spine.

  A quiet, feminine voice interrupted. “Am I to come in now?”

  At the sound, my chest constricted. “Not Loren.”

  Loren, my sister of the heart, stepped into the room. She had no brother, husband, or father to ask after and no land in her possession. She lived in the hall as a companion for me. Willowy and fair, she embodied most of the village men’s ideal. Over the years, she had discouraged all advances. My chest ached at the waste, saving herself only to have the choice taken from her in the end.

  “Spare her.”

  Antano acknowledged my plea by gripping my shoulder.

  “Nay, my lady. None will be spared between eighteen and forty. Your men were wiped out in the final confrontation. The king ordered us to settle here, set down roots and replace the male population. We will till the land, maintain the holdings, and defend the border.”

  In the background, Loren continued to answer the recorder’s questions.

  I asked Antano, “Is the king doing this elsewhere?”

  “Yes, though many commanders are far more brutal than Lord Irvaine. The tales are not for feminine ears. Be thankful Lord Irvaine is your new master.”

  “What of me, Antano? What will my fate be?”

  “That, lady, is not for me to say. Ask Lord Irvaine.”

  “I shall.”

  Loren replied to the recorder’s final question. “I will marry.”

  He directed her toward the door into the yard.

  As Loren passed us, I caught her hand.

  “My lady, no…” Antano protested.

  “I request to accompany her.”

  He frowned at me, but listened.

  “I nursed at her mother’s breast, learned to toddle holding her hand, and shared every step of my life with her. I wish to walk beside her now.”

  Antano studied our faces for a moment. “No interfering.”

  I squeezed Loren’s cold fingers and received an answering tightening. Antano spoke with the record-keeper. While his back was turned, Loren pressed against my side. I drank in the familiar warmth of her presence. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “I will see this is stopped. I will speak to Lord Irvaine.” I wasn’t sure what I would say, but the Kurios would give me words. Surely this wasn’t His will.

  “Nay, Bri, I have had more time than most. Marriage was my fate. I have delayed long enough. It is time for a husband and children.”

  “I wish the circumstances were otherwise.”

  Loren turned her face toward the only window in the room. “Wishing won’t change reality.”

  I preferred the tears to the silence of raw emotion petrifying the heart. I witnessed too much dull acceptance, resignation to circumstances. I wanted to scream, fight, rage against the injustice.

  Antano led us out into the yard. Forty-five men stood and lounged about. Loren’s entrance caused a stir. Men straightened their shoulders and stood to their feet. A bald man licked his fingers and smoothed the few hairs remaining on his crown. I scanned the gathered crowd, at least twenty strong. Tall and short, all broad in the shoulders and muscled, they bore scars and signs of their craft. Though, some were more weathered than others. Loren focused on her feet, blind to all but the dirt beneath her bare toes.

  I nudged her elbow. “You need to at least look at them.”

  “I can’t.” She trembled.

  In desperation, I turned to Antano. He had been decent, considering the situation. He knew these men.

  “Who will be a gentle husband, Antano?”

  “Nay, lady.”

  “Please, we don’t know these men. How can she choose on appearance alone?”

  Antano held against my pleading gaze for a moment only to give in with a sigh. Despite the grim lines of his features, I found kindness there.

  “Choose the one without a left hand.”

  I frowned up at my guard, but something in his voice made me look again at the man he indicated.

  The man stood at the back of the crowd, a solid and unmoving is
land among the shifting men. He held his shoulders square, but his manner remained loose and comfortable. He allowed those around him to move first.

  “Quaren has a child, a girl of four summers, who needs a mother, otherwise he wouldn’t be here. He was a good husband to his first wife. Your friend will be safe with him.”

  “He appears to be a man of patience, Loren.” I pressed her shoulder. “See how he waits.”

  Finally lifting her fair head, Loren peered at the group. As though sensing someone spoke of him, Quaren turned his face toward us at the same moment. The two’s eyes met.

  “I will take him.” Loren pointed at Quaren.

  The officiate grimaced. “He has but one hand, miss. Surely you wish a man who has all of his parts.”

  “He lost the hand honorably, I assume.” I glared at the balding man. He listed to one side himself, suffering from a twisted back much like my cousin.

  “Aye, my lady, saving Lord Irvaine’s life.”

  “Then I don’t see how that would be a disadvantage in anyone’s eyes.”

  “But, my lady, some women prefer…”

  “She wishes to choose him, Ryanir.” Antano’s voice cut off any future protest from the officiate. “Unless you wish Lord Irvaine to hear of how you are interfering with the choices of the women, I would recommend you witness their vows without fuss.”

  In answer, Ryanir motioned Quaren forward. Within moments the new couple exchanged vows, were allotted a living space, and dismissed. I hugged Loren tightly.

  “You will still see me,” she protested.

  “I know.” I still didn’t release her. “But from now on it will be different.” She was no longer going to be constantly near. I wasn’t going to be her responsibility now, he would, he and his child. “If he ever lifts even a finger to harm you, come to me.”