No Rest for the Wicked: Misfits of Gambria, #5

By pdmac

Pavia finally met her match when Guina returned at the head of a combined army and reclaimed the throne. With Bradwr dead, her son and daughter-in-law under house arrest, and Duncan returned as High Priest, Guina can now restore order to the kingdom. All she needs is a new Lord Chamberlain, loyal commanderie lords, and perhaps a new husband who actually loves her.

At least that's the plan.

Unfortunately, affairs in the south aren't looking so good. Alexis is still in Drunedun with all the kingdom's tarrac looking to establish her own mini-kingdom, while Prince Dade of Glanon has decided his father has lived long enough and needs to step aside – dead or alive... preferably dead. And then there are the mountain tribes of Cinoc Mar who are plotting to wrest part of Gambria away from the kingdom.

Then there's that one little problem of a former king who just won't die.

Oh, by the way, not everyone is thrilled to have Duncan back as High Priest. Already plans are in motion to permanently eliminate him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trimble Hollow Press
• Release date: May 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9781946495501

pdmac

pdmac is a diverse author, writer, and editor. He has a MA in Creative Writing, a Ph.D. in Theology, and is a member of the Steampunk Writers and Artists Guild, and the Georgia Writers Association.  He has also sung back-up for Broadway plays, provided voice for radio plays, and acted and directed theater stage productions.  In his off time, he and his wife race mountain bikes, kayak, and occasionally backpack sections of the Appalachian Trail.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Pavia stood before the mirror, staring at herself with distracted musing.  Behind her, reflected in occasional flashes, waiting ladies and servants methodically cleaned, straightened, and organized.  Yet she could see it in their eyes, the way they quickly looked away, a not-so-subtle relief, a thankfulness that they could go beyond the walls of this well apportioned prison.  She could see it in the abundance of volunteers whenever something outside these walls needed fetching, or a message delivered.  She imagined them standing just outside the front door, their eyes closed, inhaling deeply the sweet savor of freedom.  And she silently cursed them, cursed their commonness, their aggravating simplicity.  Her eyes hardening, she once again reminded herself that it would not end like this.

It had been more than three months since her mother-in-law returned and forcibly removed, nay, toppled her own daughter-in-law from her rightful place as Gambria’s queen.  That Guina, the humiliated wife of a besotted, now dead king, could lay any claim to the throne was absurd.  That claim belonged to Alric; and now that Pavia was his wife, that title of queen belonged to her.  Guina couldn’t even make the claim of regent.

Snarling, Pavia admitted that she was thankful that Guina had the sense not to have a coronation.  That would have been too much to endure, like having to confine oneself to the boundaries of this house.  Had it only been three months?  Caged in this house, it seemed so much longer, especially since she and Alric had been immediately exiled here to what had been her father’s house, Bradwr’s house, here in Mull when Guina returned and demanded the throne.  She knew why; far easier to keep tabs on problems when they’re close at hand... something about keeping friends close and enemies closer.

When the initial shock of her fall had dissipated, it had morphed into a mixture of cold resentment and numb aimlessness.  Alric had taken to wandering around the home like an animal caged, a constant pacing of morose regrets.  Watching him repeatedly traipse through the numerous rooms, then out across the inner gardens, then back into the hallways, only reinforced her realization that if anything were to change, she would be the one to make it happen.  Hiding her disdain, she instead chose to plot her future.

The number of visitors had plummeted only a few days after their exile.  No one wanting a future could afford such a tainted association.  Of her own circle of friends, all had disassociated themselves, except for Heledd and the clueless Siani.  Both seemed impervious to the probable gossip, although she knew it was just a matter of time before Uncle Dade quietly informed Siani that she could no longer come by.

As Alric passed behind her on one of his many laps, she looked again at herself.  That she was beautiful was not vanity; it was fact.  That so many desired her was also not vanity.  That she would do what was necessary to become queen... was fact.  Gently rubbing her stomach, she scrunched her face knowing what pregnancy would do to her body, and how long it would take to return to her present state, if that was even possible.  Was she willing to gamble her own body to become queen?  Did she really want to have to put up with some whiny brat?  Sure, she could hand it off to a nursemaid, but there was still that mothering part.  And suppose it was a girl?  Good god, would she want to go through it all again hoping to have a son?  There had to be a better way.  Turning, she called Rhoysn to her.

Yes m’Lady? her handmaid and confidant solicitously replied.

It’s time.  Tell our wandering prince that I need to talk to him.  Make arrangements for the naming stone.

Yes, m’Lady, she calmly replied, immediately understanding her mistress’ intent.

Find her, she said, locking Rhoysn’s eyes with her own.  Quickly.

Yes, m’Lady.

Briefly watching her confidant as she sought out her husband, Pavia returned to stare at herself.  She would give the queen an heir, but she was not going to get pregnant to do it.  This would be another challenge, she told herself, another game.

Gazing at herself in the mirror, she smiled with calm self-assurance.  This one would take careful and consistent acting.  After that, it would just be a matter of time before they were returned to society, restored to their rightful place as rulers of Gambria.  And it would just be a matter of time before she rid herself of excess baggage.

Smiling to herself, she was pleased that Alric liked the bubbly water with the little bit of honey in it.

––––––––

Their patience frayed, they stood on the beach staring at the gently bobbing ship.  The sail was down as it had been these past weeks, while they waited for the wind to come from the right direction.

This is absurd, Cas exclaimed, his arms folded as he glared at the offending boat.  How much longer do we stand idly by and wait for the right wind?

I don’t know, Cathmor replied, his deep voice edged with frustration.  Twice now, a storm had blown in and they had been forced to charge out into the waves, fighting to keep the ship from re-grounding.  He still bore the deep purple bruises on his legs from stumbling on the rocks they had tossed into the shallow bay.

I have an idea, Athdar furrowed his brows in thought.  Let’s try pushing it outside the bay again.

We tried that already, Haydon sourly pointed out.  Remember?

I know, but that was in the afternoon, when the waves were higher.  Usually, first thing in the morning, it’s calm.  If we started just before first light, we might be able to push it through.  It’s not even neck deep at the mouth.  If we can push it out far enough, we can let the wind keep it away from the island.

Silence settled momentarily as they digested his suggestion.

We almost crashed it on the rock the last time, Haydon pointed out.

Put some poles around it.

Should have done that in the first place.

Listen to you, Athdar smirked.  What happened to mister ‘This-is-going-to-be-fun’ when we first landed?

Nothing, he sighed.  Now that we have the ship free, I’m just ready to go.

As we all are, Cathmor intoned.  I think Athdar is right.  We lose nothing by trying again, tomorrow morning.

It’s worth a try, Cas offered.

Haydon glared at the ship.  Anything to get off this island.

Good, Cathmor said, looking favorably at the merchant.  We sleep aboard tonight.  Is he there? he said to Athdar, ticking his head towards the ship.

Aboard?  Yes, perched quite contentedly on the front.  I’d better go check on him.  He’s getting stranger.

You mean like yesterday, when he spent the entire day sitting naked on the beach here? Cas wagged his head.

Exactly.  Frowning, Athdar turned his gaze to Cathmor.  "What are we going to do with him when we get back?  It’s not like he can rule a nation again.  The man’s gone over the edge."

He is our king, Cathmor stiffened.

That’s not the point, and you know it, Athdar said.  I don’t know who’s ruling Gambria now, but I can bet that when he shows up again, whoever it is, is not going to be happy.

The tall warrior dug his foot deeper into the sand.  What do you suggest?

We have to protect him, he shrugged.  I think we may need to pretend he’s one of our demented uncles or relatives or something so that we arouse little suspicion.  Once we get back to Mull, we can gauge how to proceed.

What then? Haydon interjected.  If, as you say, another is ruling, what do we do with him?

I don’t know, Athdar tersely replied, but after all my efforts to keep him alive, I’ll not let someone else take his life, especially when he’s no threat to anybody.

Well said, Cathmor appreciatively nodded.  The fact that he is still alive is because of you.  That we all are alive is because you have fed us, kept us strong.  We are truly indebted to you.

And if you can miraculously sail that thing, Cas jerked his thumb at the boat, I promise never to mention your culinary skills.

Agreed, Athdar laughed.  But you give me far too much credit.  The ship is free because of you.  The question facing us now is what do we do once we’re back?  He grew somber.  You’re all warriors.  You still have a job waiting when we return.  I’ve been gone so long that I’ve probably been declared dead.

What does that mean? Cas hesitated to ask.

It means that all my assets have been taken over by the Lord Purveyor and either sold or transferred.  I don’t exist anymore.

But what happens when you return?  Don’t you get everything back?

It’s not that easy.  Most likely, someone’s already living in my house.  I’d have to go to court and prove I’m alive –

That’s crazy! Haydon interjected.

That’s our court system, he shrugged.

But that’s... that’s stupid.

Whether it’s stupid or not is beside the point.  It’s what it is.  I’m going to have to come up with some means of survival.

Cathmor placed a hand on his shoulder.  I have a feeling your prospects will not be as dim as you think.

We’ll see, he said doubtfully.  The one good aspect of this whole stranded-on-an-island thing has been you three.  I shall not forget you.

That’s so sweet, Haydon gushed, pretending to brush a tear away from his eye.

I think we’d better cut some logs to put around the stone in the bay, Cas quickly snickered, before he offers to have my baby.

Grinning as he shook his head, Athdar started down towards the water.  I think I better check on our king.

They watched him as he waded towards the ship, before heading into the woods in search of fallen branches.

––––––––

Gair watched her as she cleaned the tables, the heavy lean while she swirled a damp rag across the tops.  The effort caused her to catch her breath.  Her morning sickness had never left, and her belly, hidden beneath a billowy blouse, was steadily expanding.  Word had already spread, and the town’s men kept wary distance from her, each suspiciously eyeing the others.  He was beginning to think they were indeed innocent.

He had racked his brains thinking of who else had been through these past months.  Vaddon and his theatrical troop came to mind, as did that Duncan character.  But he had quickly dismissed them; they had been much too open about their activities during their stay, and Duncan was much too touched by the desert to be suspect.  Besides, Una let him know each time Glynnis and the stranger from the desert were intimate.

Though their time together had been rather frequent for being here only a week, there was still the matter of a naming stone.  When Gair had collected Duncan at the outpost, all he possessed were the rags he wore as clothes.  No, Duncan was definitely not the one.  It had to be someone else she was protecting... but why?  Her adamant denials of a naming stone only added to her problems.

The law was the law.  One month before the child was born, she would be branded and forced to move on.  Until then, she would stay with Una, which was more than she should expect.  After all, Rugia was not a nation of barbarians.

––––––––

Frustration edging her emotions, Caci stood watching the door close behind her husband.  Try as she might, she was finding little to be excited about with his elevation to Lord Chamberlain.  He’d been in the job for three months now, and she had seen little of him during that time.  Not much of a way to begin married life.

Yet there was more... she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but the carefree nature he had in Malhac was gone, replaced with a sort of grim determination to please the queen.  Was he happy?  It didn’t seem so.  Yet, he wasn’t necessarily unhappy.

Maybe it was her.

She felt so strange and out of place in this bustling city.  Initially, she had been nervously thrilled to be venturing to so grand a place.  Yet with each passing day, the closer they came to Mull, the more contemplative Menec became.  Upon their arrival, instead of going into the city, he had taken her to the tarrac barns where he had leaned against a fence rail gazing out over the wide pastures, empty now save for the overgrown fields.  Standing next to him she had studied the sadness and disappointment in his face as he quietly stared over the vacant fields.

So much of my life was here, he had said, still looking out over the fenced areas.  It’s so strange for it to be so quiet.  I expected it to be different, but not this different.  Sighing wistfully, he said to no one, There really is nothing left for me here.  Then, as if waking from a dream, he shook his head and smiled at his bride.  Guess we better find Brenna, and let the Queen know we’re here.

Loading back onto the wagon, they headed for the city.  Initially, she had been overawed with the size of the city, and doubly thrilled to finally gaze upon the vastness of the Starn Sea.  With childlike wonder, she had taken in the great walls, the high gates, and boundless variety of colors and textures, especially of the people.  Yet she was just as enthralled with the endless window flowerboxes, two and three stories up spilling long tresses of vivid flowers in reds and yellows and blues.  And the smells, the overpowering bouquet of spices, seemed to flow and ebb with the wind.  Sometimes the spices prevailed, other times the sea’s invigorating strength pushed over the walls.

When they had arrived at Kinghall, she was pleased with the deference everyone treated her husband, calling him ‘Lord Menec’, and her ‘Lady Caci’, or ‘m’Lady.’  She was also impressed by how unaffected he seemed by the new title.  It was when they were ushered into the Queen’s presence that she was caught by surprise.

Menec! Guina exclaimed, her eyes brightening with pleasure as she descended the throne steps and briskly striding over to give him an affectionate hug.  You’re finally here.

M’Lady, he grinned back at her.  I see you’ve finally come to your senses and are where you belong.

It’s taken a while, but with you here, I think we can do some great things.  You’ve heard he’s back? she said, her pleasure evident.

I did.  And with some strange powers, so I hear.

So it seems, she said with a hint of awe.  I’ll let him tell you all about it.  Turning to his wife, she gave her a warm smile.  Forgive me dearest Caci, I did not mean to ignore you.  But your husband is an old and dear friend, and I have great need of him now.  Catching her in mid-curtsy, Guina lifted her up to give her a hug, whispering to her, I am glad he found you.  I can tell you are good for him.

Thank you m’Lady, she attempted another curtsy only to be again prevented by the Queen.

There is no need for that, Caci.  You are among friends now.  Glancing back to Menec, she said, You know where you’ll be living.  Your servants are waiting and ready to get you settled.  Let’s talk over dinner, both of you.  Flashing a smile of contentment, she glided back and ascended the throne, continuing as if nothing extraordinary had happened.

While the initial visit with the Queen went better than she expected, Brenna’s began a bit more awkwardly.  They hadn’t been in their new quarters more than a few minutes when the doors burst open, and she strode in.

Da! Brenna grinned as she gave him a strong hug.

I’ve missed you too, he smiled back.

Oh really? she said with a hint of sarcasm, though smiling.

Daughter, this is –

Caci.  Yes, I know.  Uncle Konrud told me all about her.  She coolly regarded her new stepmother.

Feeling like she was being appraised for auction value, Caci reddened slightly.  Collecting herself, she calmly said, Your father has told me all about you.

Staring quietly at her for a moment, Brenna succinctly observed, You’re young.

So are you, she quietly replied.

Half-smiling at the comeback, the warrior took in the petite woman standing next to her father.  You’re very pretty.

So are you, came the unabashed response.

Chuckling, Brenna nodded.  When Uncle Konrud told me that Da had found a farm woman in Malhac, I half-expected someone like the plump women around Mull.  You’re nothing like that.

You’re just like your father described.  I can see why he is so proud of you, she said, her voice confident.

Momentarily disarmed, she turned to her father.  I think I may like her.  Looking back at Caci, she added, I really haven’t had to share him with anyone, so it’ll take some getting used to on my part.  Do you love him?

Startled by the question, she spoke before she thought about what she was saying.  More than life itself.

Liking the response, Brenna relaxed.  Good.  So, what’s this I hear about nobility? she asked crossing over to plop down into a thick-cushioned chair, leaving Caci temporarily flummoxed.

It’s true, he shrugged.  Not really sure how it’ll play out in future generations, although if a certain daughter I have has any children... He coughed twice for emphasis.

Giving him an artificial grin, she said.  That’s not really a priority right now.  But if it does happen, I’ll be the first to let you know.

Will you?  He arched an eyebrow.

Suddenly it was her turn to feel uncomfortable.  What?

I heard that a certain warrior of the Twelve and the High Priest seem to be a bit more than friendly, he casually said.

Goodness, Caci interrupted.  And I thought Malhac was a small town.

The high and mighty have no secrets, Menec pointed out, then smiled knowingly at his daughter.  Well?

Da! She shifted awkwardly in her chair, thinking of something appropriate to say.

I’m not saying it’s true, he smiled, but if it is, it would be a good thing.  They’re perfect for each other.

Brenna thought long before answering, her voice soft.  We’ll see.

And they had left it at that.  Since then, Caci had often seen Brenna, usually when she arrived for dinner.  Their first meal together set the tone for the future, for her husband was called to attend the queen, leaving the two ladies to find common ground.  Awkward at first, they quickly discovered a common trait of unaffected directness, no games, and no pretenses.  The foundation for their friendship was established.  By the second meal, they had chattered like old friends.  The following day, Brenna had volunteered to show her around the city.

Caci had been overawed at the pulse of activity, the endless chaotic movement of people, a churning of intensity that seemed always in a hurry.  Yet there was a trepid fascination in this morass of mankind, knowing she was now a part of it.  They had wandered the city, spending most of the morning in the merchants’ quarter.  By mid-day, they had worked their way towards the Temple quarter.

How about we invite ourselves for lunch, Brenna said with a wink as they ascended the portico steps of the Temple.

Good day High Commander. A door acolyte gave a heart-felt greeting, as did several other priests and acolytes pausing in their discussions as they recognized the warrior who had brought back their High Priest.

Good day, she easily replied.  This is Lady Caci, she said by way of introduction, the Lord Chamberlain’s wife.  Pleased with their wide-eyed reaction, she smiled benevolently at other clerics as they ascended the main steps to the supplicant room.  Seeing Drubal bent over his desk hard at work, she made straight for him.

Know a good place for lunch? she asked, affecting serious inquiry.

Looking up, he smiled a broad grin.  I know a few.  The food’s much better here than it used to be when that grizzled old brother was down in the kitchens.

Now, now, he wasn’t that old, she drolly said.

Shaking his head with a good-natured grin, he politely looked at her friend.  This must be Lady Caci?  He was struck by her unaffected beauty as she stood there, bright-eyed and patiently waiting to be recognized.  For some reason, she reminded him of Guina.

Brother Drubal, Caci smiled in recognition.

You’re in luck, he said to them both, giving a quick tick of his head towards Duncan’s apartment.  He’s in with Father Konrud,

It was Brenna’s turn to be surprised when they were ushered through the High Priest’s front doors.

Caci!  Konrud exclaimed upon seeing her.  Virtually leaping out of his chair, he rushed over to her, giving her an affectionate hug.

So, this is why you couldn’t stay in Malhac? Caci feigned indignation.

Looks to me like Keme did just fine.  Hello Smudge, he said looking over at Brenna.  A term of affection, he explained to her obviously curious stepmother.  Harun started it when she was younger.  I’ll let her explain.  This, he said with grand gesture, turning to the man still sitting, is Duncan, High Priest of Gambria.

Your Grace, she dipped a curtsy.

Lady Caci, he smiled as he stood up.  Now that we have the formalities out of the way, let’s drop the titles, shall we?  You are among friends here.  And by the looks of it, he said as the meal was brought in, just in time for lunch.  Leading them into the dining room, he asked, And how is our new Lord Chamberlain?

Busy, she replied.

I can well imagine.  It was an inspired choice, nonetheless.  Konrud was telling me all about his vacation in Malhac, he said, changing the topic as they seated themselves.  Now that you’re here, you can set the record straight.  Leaning forward as if in confidence, he whispered loud enough for all to hear, I hear he was a real pain in the –  He stopped in mock horror as though just realizing his High Chancellor was listening.

See why I didn’t want to come back? Konrud said, rolling his eyes.

The ensuing meal was an experience for Caci as she watched the interaction of the High Priest with Konrud and Brenna.  Their relaxed banter and jovial chatter reminded her of home with Keefe and Eres, and friends who dropped by.  She was surprised at how young he was, closer in age to Brenna than herself.  It was only too obvious that he was quite enamored with the warrior, as she was with him.  Without realizing it, she found herself disarmed and comfortable, joining in the conversation like she had always lived in Mull.

It was on the way home, walking next to Brenna that she listened with rapt interest to the tale of Duncan’s arrival and survival.

He really survived the wastelands? she asked with awe.

And more, Brenna said.  When we have more time, we’ll have to get him tell it.  It’s far more interesting coming from him.

That was almost three months ago.  In the interim, it seemed she had spent more time with Brenna than her own husband.  Standing now in their living room, she felt alone.  Remembering the Queen’s ascension merely reinforced her loneliness.  Forced to sit alone with the wives of the nobility, watching the proceedings, having to listen to the nattering of gossip, caused her to heave a sigh.  The few wives she had met were painfully shallow, consumed with trivia and gossip.  Looking around the room, she understood why her brother had returned home so soon.

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Chapter 2

The Grandmaster stood peering out the window, his age-spotted corrugated hands laced behind him.  Clearing his throat in a gravelly cough, he frowned momentarily then turned his wrinkled face at the sound of a firm knock at the door.  He watched as his assistant, a second rank master-scholar, ushered in a young man.

Here he is, Grandmaster, the scholar bowed reverentially.

Gazing intently at young man, the elder man frowned again.  What is your name?

I am called Morcan, Grandmaster, he confidently replied.

How long have you been with us?

A bit over three years, Grandmaster.

Three years? the old man was surprised.  He stared at him for a while, as though puzzling why he didn’t look familiar.  Turning his attention to the scholar, he asked, Why is he here?

He’s been reassigned, Grandmaster, the scholar coaxed.

Ah yes.  Reassigned.  The old man slowly shuffled over to the large desk.  Placing a hand on the top, he leveraged the high-back chair away from the edge.  The second rank scholar hurried over to assist, helping the aged man settle himself.  Slowly pushing several papers aside, the Grandmaster lifted a single page.  Squinting, he read aloud, his voice tired and thick.  Morcan, heretofore assigned to Buckom, in such capacity as apprentice servant, hereby petitions and is granted assignment to the house of Rhun, having satisfied said conditions of apprenticeship.  Such assignment to be herewith granted immediately.  He looked back up at the scholar, handing him the paper.  Be sure this is filed appropriately.

Yes, Grandmaster.

The old man appraised