Stone of Help (Annals of Lystra) Read online

  STONE OF HELP

  Book Two of the Annals of Lystra

  Robin Hardy

  Westford Press

  Stone of Help: Book Two of the Annals of Lystra

  Christian fantasy/series

  e-book edition

  ISBN-10: 1-934776-34-3

  ISBN-13: 978-1-934776-34-6

  Copyright © 1985, 1994, 2005, 2014 Robin Hardy. All rights reserved.

  Portions of this book may be reproduced according to the fair use doctrine as stated in § 107 of the U.S. Copyright Law; otherwise, please contact the publisher for written permission.

  Westford Press

  [email protected]

  Cover image copyright Dm_cherry

  The maps may be seen on Robin's Facebook page at http://tinyurl.com/ldw38fx

  Unless otherwise identified, all Scripture quotations are taken from the Revised Standard Version Bible (RSV), copyright © 1946, 1952, 1971, by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the USA, used by permission, all rights reserved.

  To Rita Bowden

  who showed me by example

  the beauty of walking with the Lord

  Come, Thou Fount of ev’ry blessing,

  Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;

  Streams of mercy, never ceasing,

  Call for songs of loudest praise.

  Teach me some melodious sonnet

  Sung by flaming tongues above;

  Praise the mount! I’m fixed upon it,

  Mount of Thy redeeming love.

  Here I raise mine Ebenezer;*

  Hither by Thy help I’m come;

  And I hope, by Thy good pleasure,

  Safely to arrive at home.

  Jesus sought me when a stranger,

  Wand’ring from the fold of God;

  He, to rescue me from danger,

  Interposed His precious blood.

  O to grace how great a debtor

  Daily I’m constrained to be!

  Let Thy grace, Lord, like a fetter,

  Bind my wand’ring heart to Thee.

  Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,

  Prone to leave the God I love;

  Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,

  Seal it for Thy courts above.

  Robert Robinson, 1758

  *translated “stone of help”;

  see 1 Samuel 7:3-12

  The History

  (from Book One of the Annals of Lystra)

  The events surrounding the end of the reign of Surchatain Karel of Lystra, being duly and truthfully chronicled in the aforementioned Book,1 may be summarized as follows, to wit: Karel, having discerned his daughter’s life to be in Peril, appointed a soldier from the standing army, a follower of the Way, to be guardian of the Chataine Deirdre, she at that time being ten years of age. The soldier, being Roman of Westford, was then twenty-two. Albeit that his coat of arms has since been shown to bear the Bend Sinister,2 Roman had gained respect for his Abilities and Leadership.

  Thus did Roman perform ably in difficult circumstances as the Chataine’s guardian until her eighteenth year, when she frustrated her father’s intentions by choosing Roman as her Husband. In his wrath the Surchatain sentenced the soldier to die, but Roman escaped the gallows to marry Deirdre and join Commander Galapos at Outpost One.

  In the face of a Dreaded Invasion by Surchatain Tremaine of Seleca, Galapos joined forces with Deirdre’s uncle, Surchatain Corneus of Seir. But as the Price of that alliance, Corneus demanded that Deirdre be given to his son Jason. Thus Roman unwillingly sent his Bride to Jason in Ooster, but Corneus betrayed Galapos in Vile Treachery and aligned himself with Tremaine. At Ooster, Deirdre discovered herself with child by Roman.

  When the armies of Tremaine and Corneus surrounded the outpost to slay the defenders of Lystra, Roman prayed in desperation to his God. Following, by the Power of God, the enemy were destroyed by plague. At Ooster, Jason learned of the battle’s outcome and killed himself, having first told Deirdre that her Husband was dead. Deirdre despaired, but was supernaturally defended until Roman and Galapos, the victors, found her at Ooster. Then did she learn that Karel was dead and that Galapos, the new Surchatain, was her True Father.

  Here begins the Continuation of the story, it being two hours since Galapos and Roman have arrived at Ooster. . . .

  1Chataine’s Guardian

  2That is, he was of illegitimate birth.

  Chapter 1

  Oh, sweet freedom! The Chataine Deirdre drank in clear sky and open air as Corneus’ palace faded from her sight and mind. After months of confinement within stone walls, she saw the world as a greener, vaster place. And suddenly the wideness of the sky astounded her.

  She sighed, stroking her mare’s mane. In impulsive gratitude, she bent to hug Lady Grey’s neck. “Wherever did you find her, Roman?” she asked, looking up to her right.

  Her husband, riding so close to her that their horses frequently bumped, answered, “She was loose in the pasture, grazing. Waiting for us.” He reached over for her hand and she gave it to him. After four months of separation, she soaked in his familiar, beloved presence—tall and solid, black-haired and brown-skinned, riding habitually straight-backed even as he gazed at her.

  She smiled, stroking his bristly face, and he pressed his lips to her fingers. He caressed as well the delicate face and golden hair that he had dreamed of every night these four months. Insatiable, he leaned on her saddle to kiss her and she let go of the reins to hold his neck. But his mount, evidently not caring for intimacy, shied sideways out from under him, and he slid down rudely beneath Lady Grey’s legs.

  Deirdre choked back a laugh. “Are you hurt?” she demanded.

  Commander Galapos, riding in front of them, turned around to shake his head, chuckling, “Can you never learn to control yourself around the Chataine, boy?” His large frame shifted so he could observe Roman remount smartly, then the Commander delivered a swift wink to Deirdre.

  Smiling, she returned it. “Come ride beside us,” she urged, holding out her hand to him. He obliged by dropping back to her left. “How long before we reach the outpost?”

  “Hours, I fear, as you can’t run.” He cocked a bushy grey eyebrow at her unwieldy midriff. “We’d ’a’ made better time with a carriage,” he added.

  “Oh, no,” Deirdre said. “It always made me ill to ride in them before, so how could I possibly now? I’ll be patient, and I won’t complain,” she promised earnestly.

  At least the slow pace enabled her to ponder the stunning revelations of the past hour. Her father . . . her real father. . . . She looked over to Galapos. If she could have chosen anyone she wanted to be her father, it would have been he. “Galapos,” she murmured. When he turned his bright blue eyes toward her, she saw in them the shape of her own. “How did you meet my mother?”

  He unconsciously gave a little sigh. “After Commander Fortunado was killed, I was named Commander, and one of my first responsibilities was to accompany Karel on a diplomatic visit to Ooster. There, we met with Corneus to discuss mutual protection of trade routes. And there, at dinner the first evening, I met his lovely, intriguing sister, Regina. After dinner she drew me aside into the garden to ask me numberless questions about Lystra, Westford, the army, and myself. The more I told her, the more she wanted to know!” he said in exasperation.

  “Her curiosity lives,” Roman said dryly, with a glance at Deirdre. But the look which he intended to be teasing was so full of love that she was not offended.

  “Yes, well, as we talked, I saw—what?—interest, or desire, form in her eyes. At first I dismissed it as a girl’s admiration for an older man. I could not allow myself to think o
therwise, because it had been arranged long ago that she would marry Karel. That night, though, I could hardly sleep for thinking of her.” Galapos paused, dropping his eyes. Deirdre and Roman listened silently as the horses plodded on.

  He coughed a bit, smoothing his bushy grey moustache. “Well, over the next few days, we seemed to chance upon each other every idle moment I had. Our little conversations began to run deeper . . . our walks in the garden longer. I began to fear that Karel or Corneus would notice my undue attention toward her, but somehow I could not keep away from her. ‘I’ll be leaving soon,’ I told myself. ‘Enjoying her company while I’m here is harmless enough.’ Madness! I ignored the certainty that she would be coming to Westford in a year as Surchataine.

  “And so, our business in Ooster went on and on—we were there weeks longer than I had anticipated. Then came the night in the garden that Regina cried on my neck, saying she loved me, that she wanted only me! I should have leapt over the garden wall and run the length back to Westford. Instead, fool that I was, I kissed her to comfort her, and sent her to her chambers. Late that very evening, I awakened to see her standing over my bed.” He stopped and coughed again. Roman glanced away.

  “In truth,” Galapos resumed determinedly, “the following morning I actually persuaded myself that her visit was a dream. But that same day Karel decided we would leave for Westford, and moreover that Regina would immediately become his wife. We had hardly set foot in the palace when he directed me to assume command from Outpost One. I was not granted leave to return for over a year. Not even to see her funeral barge cast to sea.”

  Deirdre listened in a mist of tears. After a silence, Galapos added, “As it was, Karel did her a great kindness to take her at once to Westford. For her untimely pregnancy to have become known would have meant terrible humiliation and debasement. But I will never know how he knew. Nor how a young, strong girl could die weeks following childbirth with the care she was given.”

  “She did not die from childbirth,” sniffled Deirdre. “She fell down the stairs.”

  Roman and Galapos stared at her. “You are sure?” Galapos asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “Nanna had always told me she died in childbirth. But the night I ran away, she let the truth slip out. It shook her terribly.”

  “As it should have,” muttered Galapos. “The official statement was that Regina died of stress from a hard birth. Why the lie . . . ?” He did not finish the thought and none of them spoke what passed through their minds.

  “And when did you come to the palace?” Deirdre asked Roman.

  “In relation to all this, I’m not sure.” He inhaled. “I never saw the Surchataine.”

  “It was when I returned on leave that I picked up this urchin and made him my errand boy,” Galapos answered gruffly, a smile returning. “You were just a baby, sweetheart—some months old.” She nodded and they rode further in silence. Paved with brick, Corneus’ road was flat and easy riding. The summer sun was full but not burning, with the sweetness of a fat land stretching around them.

  Galapos will be proclaimed Surchatain when we reach Westford, she considered. A thought complained, That should be my title. I should rule.

  She shook her head in reply and both men glanced her way. I cannot rule yet. I have no experience, no wisdom. They’re right—he should be Surchatain. She shifted her belly, sighing at the discomfort, then laughed out loud. “Roman,” she gasped, laughing, “remember when you disguised me to look pregnant for our trip to Corona?”

  He grinned. “Yes. We were traveling as husband and wife. If I had only known—!”

  “If you had only known how absurd it is for a pregnant woman to gallop!” she cried. “Anyone who saw us riding that way must have thought we were mad!”

  His eyebrows lowered. “That was something I didn’t consider. My experience is limited in such matters as that.”

  Galapos chuckled, “You’re in for a lesson or two, my boy.”

  “I shall be an attentive student,” he promised, smiling.

  She sighed again, musing on. What a remarkable deliverance they had experienced at the outpost. The villagers’ disease! Who would have thought that would be the weapon to turn back Tremaine’s army? Yet Roman and Galapos were living proof of God’s intervention. And to think she had almost thrown her life away on account of a lie!

  Then she recalled something Roman had mentioned. “Roman—” she stretched a hand to him, which he kissed again. He kissed any part of her that came within reach. “You said that when you prayed for deliverance from Tremaine, you prayed for me, also.” He nodded. “What did you say?”

  “I asked God to protect you, as I had failed you.”

  “Then it follows,” she struggled, “that He would protect me from myself . . . ?”

  He frowned. “No, Deirdre. We are free creatures. Free even to destroy ourselves, though that would grieve Him deeply.”

  “Not from myself, then, but from the consequences of believing a lie?”

  “I don’t understand you,” he said gently.

  “I don’t understand it either,” she returned, perplexed. “All I know is, I should be dead now, but am alive. You should be dead, but you are alive! And Tremaine, Corneus, and all those who fought against you are dead. I don’t understand any of it.”

  “When we return to Westford, I’ll find Tychus’ Scriptures and read to you something about the mercy of God toward those who believe Him,” he said, that lesson vivid on his mind.

  “I shall eavesdrop through the crack of the door,” promised Galapos, and they laughed—Deirdre too, though she was embarrassed to be reminded of her own habit of doing that. “Ho—look there,” Galapos said, drawing back on the reins. Roman slid from his horse to the underbrush where Galapos pointed.

  Deirdre strained to see. “What is it?”

  “A Lystran uniform, I believe,” Galapos said.

  Roman emerged from the brush dragging a body. “That question is answered now,” he said grimly. “It’s the messenger I sent to Deirdre.”

  “Jason is responsible,” she asserted. “He discovered the truth, but lied to me to drive me to despair. If I knew where he was now, I would—I would—”

  “No need, my child. I’m sure Jason has suffered a greater vengeance that you could exact,” Galapos said thoughtfully.

  “Do you know where he is?” she asked.

  “No, not precisely. But I’ll wager his deception to you was a parting blow.”

  Deirdre nodded sagely as she watched Roman secure the body onto his horse, behind the saddle. She did not admit that she had not exactly understood Galapos’ meaning.

  Suddenly noting that Roman’s mount was black, she exclaimed, “Roman, where is the Bay Hunter?”

  “I don’t know,” he said wistfully. “I’ve surely lost him. I couldn’t take him with me to the outpost—his disappearance after my ‘hanging’ would have aroused too many suspicions.” He broke off to mount, then murmured, “I pray the Lord to find him a decent place of service and feed. He was a good horse . . .” he trailed off dismally, and Deirdre was touched by his feelings for his lost horse, although she wondered at the propriety of bothering God about it.

  At that moment a zinging arrow tore the air between Roman and Deirdre. Galapos exclaimed, “That came from the brush behind you! Run!”

  “She can’t run!” Roman shouted. “We have to stand and fight!”

  “Oh, no! You’ll not be sitting pigeons because of me!” And she planted her heels in Lady Grey’s sides. The old mare sprang forward with remarkable agility, Roman and Galapos racing after her. In flight, the messenger’s body was dislodged from Roman’s horse, but he dared not go back for it.

  After Deirdre’s confinement, it felt good to gallop again, to feel the wind rush through her hair—for a minute. When they had reached a point of safety, she eased back on the mare’s reins. Roman pulled up beside her, aggrieved. “Deirdre!”

  She gave him a cocky smile, though feeling a little green.
“I’m all right. You would be surprised at what I can do.”

  “Don’t do that again,” he said sternly.

  “I won’t, Roman. I promise.” She patted his hand unsteadily while Galapos scanned the area around them.

  “Must have been one loose from Corneus’ army,” he muttered. “Keep an eye out, my boy, at least until we’re well into Lystra.”

  They rode on unmolested. Once they had passed the border, they gradually eased into their own silent considerations. Deirdre placed her hand on her abdomen and felt a determined little kick. She bowed her head from the weight of gratitude for the new life in her body and new hope in her future, for Roman and Galapos, who loved her. . . .

  The men beside her let her weep quietly in peace.

  Much later, as the three came within sight of the outpost, a retinue galloped up to meet them. “Hail, Commander! You’ve recovered the Chataine!” a soldier in front called. He was one Deirdre had seen in front before—a natural leader with a fiery spirit and curly black hair and beard.

  “Yes, Kam. She is well and whole, and then some. How goes it here?” Galapos asked.

  As four soldiers pulled abreast of them and turned to escort them to the outpost, Kam answered, “Commander, we’ve salvaged many thousands of arms, equipment, and pieces of armor. Also, nearly two thousand horses, though many more escaped. We have far more horses and arms than we have men to use them. They’re loading up the spare animals now to carry the spoils to Westford.”

  “Good,” Galapos nodded, then demanded, “Kam—you are surely not using their water bags—?”

  “No, Commander. All the pots we broke, and the skins we emptied on the ground and threw on the pyre.”

  “Well done,” Galapos said, relieved. For the water Tremaine’s army had been drinking is what had poisoned them all.