and girl twins… “The son of Donnchad lives,” I said. “He is carried away in to slavery by Mac Bethad’s men, who do not dare to kill him.”
My brother took a long, deep breath. He let it out again. He did not ask me if I were certain. We had no need of such questions. We were the children of Thorfinn alike. “Where is he taken?”
“I don’t know,” I said. So little to go on. A moor, and the smell of bracken. It could be anywhere, anywhere across the highlands. No, not just anywhere. There was no scent of the sea, no sound of running water. And I did not see the familiar shapes of mountains against the sky. Somewhere I had not been, which narrowed it down a bit. In my marriage I had gone far south, and once to the land of Northumbria. It was not some place I knew.
“Away,” I said. “But he lives. And they will want him far from home, where any ploughman might recognize him, or take his child’s words for something. Far away, no one will believe a little boy who claims to be a prince.” I touched my brother’s arm. There was something I didn’t quite remember, some long ago fear of chains and a procession through a great city. They would not kill him, yet. “Erik, he still lives.”
“And where there is life there is hope?” He gave me a sideways glance again. Warrior he might be, but he should call it cowardice to kill a child of five, no matter whose get he was. Erik followed the old ways in his heart, though he wore the cross on his breast as a matter of fact. One can’t be too careful in devotions to the gods, or leave out any whose offense might matter. Besides, Erik had said often enough that some of the angels were doughty fellows.
“Our father has an oath.”
Erik turned and took me by the shoulders. “Is it our father’s oath that moves you, Ilona? Or something else?”
I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “I saw her, the Storm Queen. She said I must, or be foresworn of some promise I made ere I was born. That I must obey, and be an instrument in her hand.”
His blue eyes searched my face. Then he turned away. I saw that his hands clenched and unclenched on the battlement. “That is a mighty burden, sister.”
I put my hand on his shoulder. I was the elder by fifteen months, but we had always breathed with one breath, as though we had never been parted, even though the years had carried him over land and sea while I was married far in the south. “Erik, I cannot disobey.” I searched for the words. “And he is a child. You are the father of young sons yourself.”
“He is not our kin,” Erik said.
I said nothing and waited.
At last Erik let out a great sigh. “Where will you go?” he asked.
I had not thought I knew until this moment. “Dunsinane,” I said. “That is where Donnchad was murdered, and where the trail begins.”
“And where Mac Bethad now sits as King of Scotland.”
“That too,” I said, and smiled. “But if I do the Storm Queen’s work, I shall expect her aid. And I am not without resources of my own.”
“They say Mac Bethad’s queen is a black witch,” Erik said.
“I shall not fear that,” I said primly. “Let it not be said that Ilona Thorfinn's daughter fears any other witch.”
“Well then,” Erik said, and he laughed. “Let it not be said indeed. The Seven Stars stands at anchor in Scapa Flow. I suppose I will bear you to Scotland, my sister.”
Horus Indwelling
285 BC
Lydias of Miletus, the main character of my novel Stealing Fire, is one of my favorite characters in the Numinous World. The end of the book leaves him beginning his life again, barely thirty years old, with the campaigns of Alexander behind him and the rest of his life before him. I think there are several more stories about Lydias and his adventures that come before this one, when Alexander's body at last comes to the city he founded.
While we have no accounts of Alexander's actual funeral in Alexandria, it probably occurred at about this
My brother took a long, deep breath. He let it out again. He did not ask me if I were certain. We had no need of such questions. We were the children of Thorfinn alike. “Where is he taken?”
“I don’t know,” I said. So little to go on. A moor, and the smell of bracken. It could be anywhere, anywhere across the highlands. No, not just anywhere. There was no scent of the sea, no sound of running water. And I did not see the familiar shapes of mountains against the sky. Somewhere I had not been, which narrowed it down a bit. In my marriage I had gone far south, and once to the land of Northumbria. It was not some place I knew.
“Away,” I said. “But he lives. And they will want him far from home, where any ploughman might recognize him, or take his child’s words for something. Far away, no one will believe a little boy who claims to be a prince.” I touched my brother’s arm. There was something I didn’t quite remember, some long ago fear of chains and a procession through a great city. They would not kill him, yet. “Erik, he still lives.”
“And where there is life there is hope?” He gave me a sideways glance again. Warrior he might be, but he should call it cowardice to kill a child of five, no matter whose get he was. Erik followed the old ways in his heart, though he wore the cross on his breast as a matter of fact. One can’t be too careful in devotions to the gods, or leave out any whose offense might matter. Besides, Erik had said often enough that some of the angels were doughty fellows.
“Our father has an oath.”
Erik turned and took me by the shoulders. “Is it our father’s oath that moves you, Ilona? Or something else?”
I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “I saw her, the Storm Queen. She said I must, or be foresworn of some promise I made ere I was born. That I must obey, and be an instrument in her hand.”
His blue eyes searched my face. Then he turned away. I saw that his hands clenched and unclenched on the battlement. “That is a mighty burden, sister.”
I put my hand on his shoulder. I was the elder by fifteen months, but we had always breathed with one breath, as though we had never been parted, even though the years had carried him over land and sea while I was married far in the south. “Erik, I cannot disobey.” I searched for the words. “And he is a child. You are the father of young sons yourself.”
“He is not our kin,” Erik said.
I said nothing and waited.
At last Erik let out a great sigh. “Where will you go?” he asked.
I had not thought I knew until this moment. “Dunsinane,” I said. “That is where Donnchad was murdered, and where the trail begins.”
“And where Mac Bethad now sits as King of Scotland.”
“That too,” I said, and smiled. “But if I do the Storm Queen’s work, I shall expect her aid. And I am not without resources of my own.”
“They say Mac Bethad’s queen is a black witch,” Erik said.
“I shall not fear that,” I said primly. “Let it not be said that Ilona Thorfinn's daughter fears any other witch.”
“Well then,” Erik said, and he laughed. “Let it not be said indeed. The Seven Stars stands at anchor in Scapa Flow. I suppose I will bear you to Scotland, my sister.”
Horus Indwelling
285 BC
Lydias of Miletus, the main character of my novel Stealing Fire, is one of my favorite characters in the Numinous World. The end of the book leaves him beginning his life again, barely thirty years old, with the campaigns of Alexander behind him and the rest of his life before him. I think there are several more stories about Lydias and his adventures that come before this one, when Alexander's body at last comes to the city he founded.
While we have no accounts of Alexander's actual funeral in Alexandria, it probably occurred at about this
Similar Books
