Chapter 16 (Amazonia V)
Rossvale
The only sound in the great hall was the crackle of flames in the hearth. Flickering light from the torches cast a ruddy hue over the assembled warriors who sat stony faced before the implications of the news they had just received. In every heart was burgeoning sorrow and disbelief.
All eyes turned to Lord Peter at the high table. Their chief surveyed the messenger quietly enough, but his eyes spoke of incredulity, of grief and rage.
'Lana dead?' Lord Peter's voice was grim, his fist clenched on the arm of his chair. 'You are certain of this?'
'Quite certain, my lord.'
At this confirmation from his Captain of the Guard, Lord Peter was very still, his face expressionless save for the blue eyes, now two chips of ice. Involuntarily, his hand tightened round the hilt of a wicked-looking dagger in a gesture his Captain well knew, even as Lord Peter's mind struggled against the knowledge of Lana's death.
Lana - his never say die wife, who had a huge capacity for love and an even greater capacity for getting into sticky situations; Lana was dead?
Lana - whose temper was well renowned, who loved fiercely, who had given Lord Peter his firstborn son and heir. Now, she was gone, her fire and beauty quenched for all eternity.
Lord Peter revealed nothing of these thoughts, hiding his pain as he had all those years ago, when he discovered that Lana loved his childhood friend - Kal El, more deeply, more passionately than she loved him - Lord Peter.
What ill fate was it that he was always cursed in love? Too much care and love made a man vulnerable. It was a lesson he had learned early in life, a lesson harshly reinforced now. If you did not love, there could be no hurt. Was it thus, then, that a man must protect himself? His jaw tightened. There would be a reckoning here.
He was drawn from his thoughts by a question that was in his mind.
'How?'
'As we neared the coast of Metria, a fearful storm arose and many of our ships were blown about and wrecked upon the port of Daileth. Those of us who reached the shore were attacked by the Duke of Daileth's soldiers. We were heavily outnumbered and many were slain. Lady Lana was taken prisoner and hostage. While we were languishing in prison, I managed to beg the guards for information about our Lady. Alexander Luthor, now Duke of Daileth, most favored of King Mordred and your Lady-wife's cousin by marriage was the evil one who attacked us. It's said that Alexander Luthor now seeks greater power by seeking favour of the new War Lords. He practices dark magic and has even lost a third of his soul in the new bond created by the War Lords. Lady Lana was his prisoner and was being held, chained, in the Duke's private chambers in his northern-most tower, where even his wife, the Lady Lois is not permitted entry. In fact, Lady Lana's presence was unknown to her cousin, Lois. The guards told me that they could often hear a woman's screams coming from these private chambers, followed by sobbing and crying. The Duke ordered her death, when he tired of her - though we were not told of her death or the details.’
The Captain paused for a moment and took a deep breath. 'He had her thrown alive into a pit of poisonous snakes.'
A collective gasp followed his words as the magnitude and horror of it sank in.
'And how did you come to survive, Sol?' Lord Peter's voice was cold and his eyes raked the Captain from head to toe, but the man met his gaze and held it.
'It was the birth-anniversary of the Lady Lois, and all the soldiers and guards were given extra rations of mead, ale and meat. The guard outside our dungeon grew careless and fell asleep just outside the prison door, with the keys attached to his belt within easy reach.
We escaped and moved quickly out of the keep, fighting our way back to the ship and put out to sea. After nightfall we turned back and at first light Banol went ashore. He speaks the Metrian tongue and he learned the truth from some in the market place. 'Twas said that before she died Lady Lana sang a death song in which she prophesied that her beloved would avenge her and then she laughed. They said she died laughing.'
As they listened it seemed to each man there that he could hear the echo of that laughter, and their hearts swelled. Lady Lana had great courage, she had died as befitted the wife of a great Lord.
'You did not seek to avenge your lady?' demanded Clark, Lord Peter's son.
'To what end? We were a handful against hundreds.'
Clark's hand went to the axe by his side, but Lord Peter shook his head. The boy was impatient and had not yet completed his knight training. Another battle and he would be knighted, but for now, Clark was still a squire.
'Sol is right. To try to attack Ella under such circumstances would have been madness. Worse, it would have been stupid. Now he will fight another day.'
Clark glared at him. 'Are you saying that Lady Lana died for nothing?'
Lord Peter, silent and intent, waited to make the reply, feeling all around him the same curbed rage.
'No. My wife shall be avenged and by an army greater than any yet seen.' All eyes were upon Lord Peter as he rose to face the assembled throng. 'We shall send a fleet of ships four hundred strong, and an army of ten thousand highly skilled warriors.
Clark regarded his father with admiration. What he was proposing would be the greatest raid ever known. Almost instantly he corrected himself: not a raid, an invasion.
'Send messengers to our allies every where, let them go to Themyscira, to York, to Gotamworth, to Doma, to those few honorable men who are left in Keystone, Oa, Ran, Tamaran and Metria. Send secret agents to search out the greatest Knights of First Earth - the Crusaders who fought under the banner of the one Great Lord. Aye, let these be secret agents for these great knights fight under concealment to take victory. Let every man who can wield an axe or sword prepare,' Lord Peter continued. 'We shall sweep through Metria like flame through tinder. We shall beard Luthor in his castle and he shall know the taste of fear. His death shall not be swift, but he will long for it before the end. This I swear by my own blood and by the sacred blood of our ancestors.’
Lord Peter drew the blade of his knife across his palm, his gaze meeting those of his sword brothers. Immediately they followed suit and mingled their blood with his. Then his gaze moved past them and rested on Clark. In it was an invitation, an acknowledgement of kinship and readiness. Clark's eyes never left Lord Peter's as he unsheathed his dagger and drew the bright blood forth before mingling it with theirs.
Bound by the blood oath, Lord Peter's honour was now the honour of his sword brothers, his purpose, their purpose.
Lord Peter turned back to the silent watching crowd. 'Who will sail with us to avenge Lady Lana of Rossvale?'
A roar of approval shook the rafters and every hand was raised. Lord Peter looked round the hall, gratified to see resolution in each face. Then he raised his hand for quiet.
'Make ready. Three moons from now the sea dragons sail for Metria and Daileth.'
Another roar greeted this.
'A fitting revenge for Lady Lana' Captain Sol observed.
'We shall have more than revenge, Captain,' replied Lord Peter. 'There will be rich rewards too for those who serve well-land and slaves to work it. And women.'
Captain Sol grinned, knowing whither the conversation tended. 'And Metrian women are reputed fair, are they not?'
'Aye, they are, and it's high time you took a wife. A man must get sons.'
'True. And when I find a woman who pleases me enough, I shall wed and breed sons aplenty.'
'Your standards are high, but even you might lose your heart to a Metrian beauty.'
'I have never lost my heart to a woman yet. They satisfy a need like food and drink, but they have no power to hold us long.'
'You say so for you have never been in love.'
'No. Nor am I like to be. It is not necessary to fall in love to get sons.' Captain Sol laughed. My heart is my own, brother, and I guard it well.'
Some time later
Captain Sol's words repeated themselves in Lord Peter's head as he sat alone in the great chair before the hearth, after dinner that night. "It is not necessary to fall in love to get sons." Those words were as true for a man as for a woman, and they had been true for Lana.
Lord Peter thought back to the day when he had last seen Lana, the final scene playing out in his mind as he stared into the fire. He had been dressing for his journey to York, and had come to stand before her, drawing her to him.
'Take care of yourself, Lana, and look after my son.'
'Depend upon it.'
'I do.' He paused. 'Do you wish me to bring you anything from York?'
'Only yourself.'
They kissed, Lana holding him close. Then he buckled on his sword and slid his knife into his belt. The second, slimmer blade was slid into his sleeve.
'It never hurts to be prepared,' he said humorously, seeing the direction of her gaze.
Lana took a deep breath, her heart hammering. 'Peter, I must tell you...'
He smiled. 'Tell me what?' Then he saw her unwonted pallor and the anguish in her eyes and his smile faded. 'My love, what is it?'
'I may need to leave Rossvale for a while. Kal-El is exiled and may need my help.' Lana did not add what Peter well knew - that her cousin Lois had rejected Kal's suit and married Alexander Luthor - news that had renewed hope in Lana's heart.
For a moment or two there fell a silence so intense that Lana could hear the blood pounding in her ears. Throughout, Peter's gaze never left her face.
'How can you know this?'
'Because he...he as good as told me.'
His eyes narrowed. 'How could he have told you?'
'After he escaped from Metria he took refuge in the forest but...' she licked dry lips
'When?'
'After his escape. He worked on your lands as a farmer.' She paused.
'Did he so?' Peter was very still, his expression stony as the implications sank in. 'And all these months you have aided and abetted him behind my back, a man I love as a brother, a man you love as a lover.'
'No. I urged him to flee to save his life. I had to try. I had no choice.'
His brow darkened further. 'No choice?'
'I owed him that much, Peter, he saved Clark's life from the Lord Doomsday.'
'What do you owe me, your husband?'
'I wanted to comfort him in his misfortune. I never meant to hurt you.'
'No? Yet, you still waited all this time to tell me.'
The tears started in her eyes. 'Forgive me. I did not tell you earlier because I could not.'
'Could not or would not?'
'Both, since you will have it.' She swallowed hard. 'There is more.'
Peter remained silent, waiting.
'I assured him of your help should he ever need it and that of your sword-brothers. Lana closed her eyes a moment, waiting for the explosion of rage. It never came, but the calm was infinitely more chilling.
'Why have you chosen to tell me these things now, Lana?'
'Because I don't want any more secrets between us.'
'And I am supposed to trust you from now on?' The coldness in his voice was worse than anything she had anticipated.
'I can only beg your forgiveness and ask you to try to understand.'
'I understand, all right. You love him.'
Lana's head jerked up. 'No. I have never loved him. I love you.'
He laughed then, a harsh sound as cold as the expression in his eyes. 'You speak of love! I trusted you and you betrayed me.' Taking a step closer, he seized her shoulders in an iron grip. 'How else have you betrayed me with him, Lana? What else have you not said?'
She stared at him in shocked disbelief. 'Nothing. You cannot think so.'
'Why not? How was it-a passionate woodland tryst with the fugitive lover? It would be a fitting revenge, would it not?'
Lana, at first had been appalled, felt her own anger rising at the injustice of this.
'That's not true.'
'Isn't it?'
'No, and you know it.'
Peter's eyes glinted. 'I know only that I was a fool blinded by your beauty. A fool who believed you when you spoke to him of love, a fool who believed that you would keep your sacred vows of marriage.'
'The words were true, Peter, I swear it.'
'If they were true, you would not have secreted him from me, you would have told me, knowing how much I loved him. Knowing that I alone know the secret of his birth. You could not have betrayed me and us.' He paused, his face white with anger. 'By rights I should kill you now, you faithless whore!'
'Do it, then!' Before he was aware of her intent, Lana had seized the dagger from his belt and held the point to her breast. 'If you really believe I have cuckolded you with Kal, then it is your right. All you have to do is lean upon the point.'
His hand had closed round hers and the blade touched her throat. Lana had begun to weep silently, the tears flowed down her face as the silence stretched between them. Unable to bear her tears, as always, Peter had changed his grip, sliding to her wrist before tightening with brutal force. The dagger fell to the floor. He flung away from her and retrieved it.
Lana had fallen to her knees and lifted a hand towards him. 'Forgive me.'
Peter had made no answer, he had grabbed his cloak and was out of the door, into the courtyard, mounting his horse and moving to the head of the column.
Almost as if he had sensed the intensity of her gaze, he glanced up once and their eyes met. His heart skipped a beat. Beautiful as always, he thought, and how he loved her. But he gave no sign of his thoughts. His expression was forbidding as he held her gaze for a moment, and then he looked away, touching his heels to his horse's sides.
Peter rode fast and his men, seeing that flinty expression, left him alone with his thoughts. In truth he had only one: Lana. Their conversation had shaken him to the core and the knowledge of her deception turned like a knife in his guts. For a moment back there he had wanted to kill her. He had no idea what had stayed his hand or how he had governed his ire. It burned still and for some considerable time after until eventually fresh air and exercise tempered it a little.
Even today, the memory of the scene was bitter.
Her look as he left haunted him. His last words to her had been spoken in anger, anger born of pain the like of which he had known only twice before. He wanted to believe it was all baseless, but he had the evidence of her words. Why had she kept silent so long, only to tell him just before he left? Who could understand the workings of a woman's mind? What traps did subtle beauty lay for the unwary? How could he have been so naïve as to fall for melting looks and tender words of love? And yet she had seemed so sincere. Had she meant any of the things she had said?
For a long while Lord Peter sat before the fire, his brain a ferment of tormented thought. Loving made a man vulnerable and in so doing he had broken a cardinal rule. His marriage to Lana had been made for political reasons by and large, something he had forgotten.
Now it was time to renew those political relations. He would need to send a message to Kal-El. He thought on Kal - his boyhood friend, who did not know the secret of his own birth. A secret that only Peter knew and had been entrusted with the charge of telling Kal only when Kal had found his soul-mate, the one true woman who would hold his love and his heart and mate with him to bear his heir.
Then and only then, could Peter give Kal the pentagon shaped red and bloodstone that seemed to have a strange yellow glow all of its own in the shape of a snake.
Themyscira
Kal followed Diana down the library corridor. All the while he kept trying to figure out why she chose to wear a piece of hay in her hair. As a man who had worked on farms, Kal knew hay. But what was a princess doing with it in her hair? Maybe it was a new fashion for ladies in Themyscira? But Kal mused, as he walked along, these ladies did not seem to care for fashion and dress - they were keen on swords and axes and shields and all kinds of weaponry...
He recalled his own moments with Diana, she seemed different. Not as hard as her bosom companion Artemis, who was constantly training, even with Bruce, who anyone knew was not to be trifled with... though perhaps, that was because she was attracted to Bruce? Kal knew that Bruce certainly enjoyed the feel of the elf's body against his in the body combat art of the ancients. Bruce had discussed Artemis with him on many occasions and seemed to favor her boldness. And only yesterday, Bruce had admitted needing a woman in the way a man needs a woman and wished for a relationship without commitment, only to seek and give pleasure, as is the wont of warriors. Kal had listened to Bruce intently, he had never looked at women that way. His thoughts had drifted to Diana and he was alarmed at the way his body had responded to those thoughts. He had quickly thought of horse-dung instead, willing himself not to betray his feelings or the state of his body. But maybe Bruce had noticed? Kal mused. Bruce was forever lecturing him about the eye for detail - in fact, Bruce watched everyone and made notes on every body in a little book that he kept in his belt. Kal looked at Diana's beautiful legs leading the way in front of him and felt the familiar tightening of his body. He tried to think of horse-dung - it did not work.
At that moment, Diana turned to look at Kal. He seemed so uncomfortable, that she stopped in mid-stride, without warning. Kal walking swiftly ahead, focusing on propriety and appearances, was caught unaware and walked straight into her.
Overcome by the impact, Diana felt herself falling and put out her hands to stop her fall, when suddenly, she found herself caught up in strong arms.
Kal had moved swiftly, too swiftly to even think of and now she was held securely against his chest.
Diana's cheeks burned. She could feel ripples of muscles as Kal held her. And his breath was soft and warm against her ear.
"Kal, let me up!" she said, her guard slipping dangerously. But her actions belied her words. Her hands came up to embrace him, to feel the strength of his back, the reassuring hardness of his shoulders, and the sleek curve of his neck. She arched as his arms slipped beneath her, and she gave herself up to her feelings, trusting them, trusting him.
It was too late to turn back. Kal's big but gentle hands cradled her body and he spent his passion upon her ripe lips, her shell-like ear, her alabaster throat.
His intensity fairly bruised Diana's lips. The pressure eased above her, bringing her dazed eyes open. Kal's eyes glowed as his sensual mouth formed the words, "Diana, are you okay?'
The library door jerked open and slammed back just at that moment, but Diana wouldn't have noticed if the trumpets of the Queen's judgment had sounded. She clasped Kal's dark head with her arms and poured the raw power of her exploding joy into her rapturous kiss. Though he felt he had explored and understood the depths of her uncommon passion, Kal was stunned by the wild exuberance of her responses.
Hippolyta stood in the doorway, flanked by gawking elves, James and Bruce. Bruce's eyes flicked over the entwined figures. The state of their roused passions was all too clear in their wild, heedless kissing. "Great Rao!" James uttered, completely appalled.
