Remnants Of The Sun Page 13

She glanced behind her. “It’s not ok. I don’t want to be a leader if it means my friends aren’t my friends anymore.”

  Sonja looked down, looking unsure of what to say. Then she stared at her with loving eyes. “You’ll always have me.”

  That stare and those words brought warmth into her heart. She squeezed Sonja’s hand. “But I can’t have you the way I want.”

  And she strode off into the plain, leaving Sonja looking out to her sadly. Part of her wanted to go back and cuddle her, but part of her wanted to be alone now. The latter part won out.

  Sigrun wandered back to her old wagon. The shabby arched frame still stood there, though the trailer that held the cows were gone, and there were no longer any horses tied to the front. It looked abandoned and lonely in the middle of the grass.

  She went up to its side, feeling the roughness of the wood. It was still warm to the touch, almost inviting her to come in. She opened the door, its creak very familiar. The inside looked the same as it had when she had left: empty.

  The wardrobe door was open. She rushed towards it. Inside were all her old, muddy clothes. She shouted in joy. She immediately took off her fine cloak and tunic, and put on her old one. It smelled funny and was covered in mud stains, but it felt much more comfortable to wear than the new one had. She threw the new tunic into the wardrobe, and was about to throw the cloak away but then she saw the brooch.

  It was the only thing she had that had her family's runes on it. Could she really chuck it away? But then she felt the metal, and saw it gleaming in the crack of sun from the slats. The brooch looked too valuable. It just didn’t fit her.

  She put her hand on her braid and felt the knots. Those were her true runes, the thing that connected her to her family. That braid felt more important to keep than the brooch did. She opened the door, and threw the brooch out.

  Wearing her old clothes and being in this wagon, she couldn’t help but stand up straighter, feel more herself. Joan had been right, she had tried to both be down to earth and above their station and it had not worked. The important Baldurs had avoided her, and the people like the farmers or Edven had mistrusted her. But that would be the case no longer, she would go back to the way she had been before: confident, cocky, and very messy.

  She glanced towards the bed. She wished she could sleep in it tonight, that way she would actually feel comfortable again. It was a shame to be in messy and muddy clothes that fit, but have to live in a Jarls wagon that was nice looking but didn’t fit.

  And then an idea came to her. This wagon was empty and it seemed no one had moved in. Why shouldn’t she just live in it again? She would have to find where Gregor and Yael had stored the horses, and then move it to the center of the wagon train, but that didn’t seem too difficult.

  Yes, that would be what she would do. Forget the majesty and poshness of being Jarl, her leadership would be different. She would reflect the muddy, messy people, and she would live in a shambling, rough wooden wagon.

  As she felt the knots of her braid, she could almost see her mother smiling at her decision.

  THE BREAK UP OF A FRIENDSHIP IS ALWAYS WORSE THAN BREAKING UP WITH A LOVER. YOUR RIPPING UP A DEEPER BOND, FEELING HURT AND LOST IN THE PROCESS

  ‘The Personal Feelings Of Queen Henrietta’

  Sonja wanted to follow Sigrun when she walked off to comfort her, but she understood that Sigrun needed some alone time to think things through. Living with a bunch of girls in the same wagon, you learnt very quickly that when they rushed outside the dormitory wagon that it was better to leave them alone. Everyone knew that if you looked upset or cried in the wagon you were likely to get a gaggle of girls coming over to you to work out what was wrong. Sonja couldn’t deny that the few times she did cry in front of others and got girls to come over she liked the attention.

  She felt sad that she couldn’t help Sigrun, but the best thing to do was to leave her to her thoughts and focus on something else. Someone as confident and sure of herself as Sigrun would eventually work it out, and Sonja would surely see her being bright and cheery again. In the meantime her job was to get the faithful ready for the harvest festival.

  When she returned to the faith encampment she was surprised how little had been completed. The field didn’t have enough tables, chairs, bonfires, or cooking sections for the amount of people that were coming to the festival.

  Sonja scanned the encampment to see what had gone wrong. Yellow robed faithful were running about doing one job, but a person would tell them another job was needed and then they would run towards that instead. A man would haul out a table, abandon it to gather wood, then dump that wood pile in a corner to run into the stores to get some food. She sighed, thinking that surely someone would have tried to order this chaos while she had been away, but she guessed that was going to have to be her job.

  She strode through the field. Some faithful quickly bowed to her when she walked past, but thankfully they were too focused on their jobs to want a Sol sign or prayer. She looked for her friends amongst the to and fro of the faithful, and found them near the storage wagon, talking with Sigmund.

  She smiled at Roose, Teresa, and Sigmund. All three bowed their heads, but they did not smile back.

  “What is wrong, my friends?” she asked.

  “Britta is making trouble again,” Roose said. “She’s gotten every Acolyte in the teaching room and told them that they are not allowed to help with the party.”

  “Plus the fact that we are not doing so well with getting the party organized,” Teresa added.

  “Well that was what I came over here to sort out. I think some defined jobs for different groups are needed. Roose I want you to gather the Priests and get them to put the tables and chairs onto the field, Teresa I want you to get the Priestesses gathering wood and then building bonfires, and Sigmund I want you to construct the cooking sections, and make sure you place one for roasting meat.”

  Sigmund looked surprised. “You were able to get meat from the Mattsons?”

  “No, but the Jarl thankfully showed me someone else that could give us some.”

  “What about Britta?” Roose said, her smoky eyes piercing into hers.

  “I hate that we are breaking up because of this,” Teresa said.

  “I do too, I wish it wasn’t the case but it looks like Britta will never accept the changes I will bring. I will deal with her.”

  Teresa grabbed her arm. “Don’t be too harsh on her.”

  “I won’t.”

  She couldn’t, not at the moment. Sonja’s new way still hadn’t been tested. But that would change with this harvest festival.

  But how would she deal with Britta? Since Britta was Head Teacher she had control over what the Acolytes did. If Britta wanted to she could make sure there were scroll teachings at the time of the harvest festival. It was crucial that the Acolytes attended. Sonja believed that Acolytes meeting the wider wagon train at the festival was crucial in changing the faith. They were the future of it after all.

  Sonja stepped into the teaching wagon. It was a wide and long wagon, with desks placed in rows. White robed boys and girls sat at hard wooden chairs. They stood when Sonja walked in. All the children bowed to her. At the far end of the wagon, standing behind a lectern, Britta gave her a narrowed eyed stare.

  Sonja walked down the classroom, smiling and nodding to the kids. She wanted to act as if this was a normal visit from the Keeper. She had an advantage in this setting as she was sure that Britta would try not to argue against her too much with kids watching. Still, her heart pounded and her mouth felt dry.

  “Head Teacher Britta,” she said, as bright and cheery as she could muster. “I have been told that you kept the Acolytes away from helping with the setup of the harvest festival. I feel the work given to them would help build teamwork.”

  “I felt that this festival might be too adult for them. It would be best for them to not be corrupted by what they see, so I decided that teaching scrolls would be a much better activity,�
�� Britta said, smiling a fake cheery smile.

  “And may I ask what you are teaching the children?”

  “The Scroll of Priest Robin’s Account,” Britta replied.

  Of course she was. Before Robin was a Priest he was a farmer within the city of Elv. A city that he claimed was full of shadow and debauchery. One of the key descriptions in the scroll were the debauched and lewd parties the city’s elite participated in. And Britta had claimed the harvest festival was too adult.

  A boy at the front row put up his hand. “Miss Keeper, can I ask why you are putting on a party when Priest Robin said they are bad and full of shadow.”

  Britta put her hand on the lectern, and smiled. “Yes, Keeper, it might be good to explain to the Acolytes why it appears you are going against the Scrolls.”

  She gave a side eye glance to Britta, but turned to face the Acolytes. If Britta was going to fight, Sonja was going to fight back. “It’s all to do with interpretation, my children. Now you all have been taught what it says in the scroll, how Priest Robin talks about the lewd parties, but also the waste of food within the city, and the corruption of the people in power.”

  “Now Priest Robin connects the parties with the corruption, but I think it has things the wrong way around. It isn’t the parties that are causing the shadow, the parties are just a symptom of the corruption of those in power. The leaders of Elv only care about things like having a good time, which means having a lot of drink and food.”

  “But if you had a sensible leadership that wasn’t so corrupt then the parties wouldn't be so excessive. Instead it would be a chance to bring joy and light to people, and bring them together as one. That is what I hope to do with this harvest festival.”

  The girls and boys sat at the desks all nodded their heads at this, making Sonja smile. Britta looked angry, and said in a loud voice. “Well yes, that’s one interpretation, but another interpretation is that the parties did lead to corruption.”

  “Well that’s the beauty of the scrolls, you can interpret them in a myriad of ways. That’s why I want the Acolytes to come to the harvest festival and see for themselves whether your or my interpretation is valid. I want them to make their own minds up.”

  Britta grasped at the lectern. “You can’t have children at an adult party.”

  “It is not an adult party, it is a party for everyone. As a Keeper I have decreed that these Acolytes are going to it.

  She gave Britta a hard stare, daring her to defy what she just said. There was some cheering and whooping from the children, so Britta stepped back and bowed her head.

  Sonja felt satisfaction at being able to beat Britta, it died away when she saw that Britta was only just containing her fury.

  The two of them had been such close friends. Sonja's fondest moment had been when Britta received the role of Head Teacher. Sonja's proudest moment had been when Britta gave her a hug and said congratulations after she received the role of General.

  She leaned forwards, whispering, “Why do we have to fight like this?”

  Britta gave her a hard stare. “Because you are going to destroy this faith.”

  Britta strode out of the classroom. Sonja watched her go, tears in her eyes. Was she on the right path, were the changes to the faith worth the destruction of her and Britta’s friendship?

  But she remembered the underlying sadness she had felt when she had been friends with Britta. It wasn’t Britta’s fault really, she had been a ray of sunshine within dark clouds. But the way the faith obsessed about being pure made Sonja feel ashamed about her feelings and actions. Britta acted so perfect and pure, she didn’t have any sexual thoughts about other women, she didn’t go to parties to drink and overeat. She was always so loved by their mother. Sonja asked herself why she couldn’t just be like Britta? Why was Britta so much better than her? Those questions just brought her down a path of self destruction.

  Sonja looked out at the Acolytes, and saw the girl with the blond curly hair that she had comforted about her gay feelings. The girl gave her a big smile. Sonja smiled back.

  She would no longer let others go along her path of misery and destruction. There was a new path she was going to create for these children. And if that meant having to get rid of Britta to create that path, then so be it.

  IF YOU VISIT EIK, MAKE SURE IT’S AROUND SPRING. THE CITIES SPRING FESTIVAL IS A COLOURFUL DELIGHT, FILLED WITH DRINK, DANCE, AND A COMMUNITY COMING TOGETHER

  ‘Travel Guide For Eik’ by Gabriela Than

  The storage wagons in Bonde Square were filled to bursting with bags of oats, wheat, and sugar, which sat next to boxes of carrots, cucumbers, potatoes, lettuces, and all manner of other vegetables. The farmers had stopped wiping sweat off their brows. Now was the time to celebrate a good job done, and talk to one another. And what they talked about most was the coming harvest festival.

  A buzz of excitement sparked between all the farmer’s. There was surprise that the faith was the one holding the festival, and along with the surprise was a question on whether the festival would be any good. Many had opinions about it, and these opinions would turn to theories about why the faith was really setting up this celebration. Many felt it had to be a ploy.

  Sigrun had joined these groups, and participated in the discussions. She had to be seen to be one of the people, not a Jarl on high. Even though she knew they participated in Hannes' army and wanted to overthrow the faith, the group she found herself in the most was the one with Thore, Daniel, and Aina.

  When she walked towards them, Thore had given her a narrowed look. The air between them was initially frosty. Everyone had gone quiet.

  “You know I’m not wearing that fancy cloak or tunic anymore,” she said to them.

  “You're still the Jarl,” Thore replied.

  “Hannes was a Jarl and you seemed to get on with him, what’s the difference?”

  “Hannes didn’t try to act better than us, or fool us,” Aina said.

  Sigrun looked down at her muddy tunic and frayed trousers. “I definitely don’t think I’m higher than you. In fact I respect what you do and think the wagon train should be listening to what you want more often. Little people don’t get a say around here enough.”

  Daniel looked impressed by that, but Thore wasn’t too sure. “It’s easy to say that, but you got to prove it.”

  She put up her hands. “Well here I am, trying to prove it. What would you like to see happen in the wagon train?”

  It didn’t totally warm the group to her, but at least she got several opinions thrown at her: more breaks at work, better repairs for their wagons, or stopping the wagon train at some nice spot in the world to settle down. She made sure to listen, and told them that she would see what she could do.

  The discussion eventually got to the harvest festival and the level of excitement people had. Sigrun was a little curious why this group had so much excitement when they had gone to parties every week, and asked as such.

  “Well this party is different,” Thore said. “This is a celebration of our work. The other parties are just us trying to forget work.”

  “I’m curious, do you like all the food you harvest going to those weekly parties you attend?. Seems like a lot of work for a lot of food to go to waste.”

  Daniel seemed to think about that. Aina scratched her chin. “Well it ain’t a party without some food in it.”

  “You might be right, I’ve not thought about it,” Thore said. “But I like going to those parties for the sociable aspects.”

  She nodded. “I understand that.”

  But she said no more, not wanting to push her views too far. It was a delicate process trying to convince people of your way of thinking, too many people hammered it in, which usually pushed people to reject it. But her method allowed people to think about the issues, and start to come to conclusions on their own about them. But she did think that with a little bit of pushing she could get the people on board with her law on limiting parties.

  After a whi
le of being in Thore's group, she said goodbye and went to another group. She made sure to go to every group that was standing around Bonde Square. It was important to try to listen to them all, and to show them that she was their Jarl. She also wanted to make them think about the weekly parties. For some groups it only took a few jokes or comments to get them on board. For others the atmosphere still felt a little icy when she left. Those she was disappointed with, but she made sure to make a note of them so she could warm them up the next time. She wouldn’t be able to change everyone's minds today, but there was always tomorrow.

  The one thing that was clear going from group to group, was that the anticipation was building for the harvest festival. Everyone looked up in the sky and commented how Manang was moving too slowly, and couldn’t it be the evening yet?

  Sigrun herself thought of Sonja, wondering how she was dealing with the stress of organizing a festival that everyone in the wagon train was probably going to attend. The two of them hadn’t seen each other since she stormed off in Kveg Plain. She felt guilty about that, and hoped that there was some point in the evening that she could say she was sorry.

  At that thought, she said goodbye to the farmers, and went down Blomst Street. Sonja had given her a lovely rose the last time they had seen each other, so Sigrun had to return the favor. She glanced on both sides of the streets, marveling at the hanging baskets that contained colorful flowers. The sweet and pungent aromas almost overwhelmed her, but there was one smell that grabbed her and steered her towards its flower. The smell reminded Sigrun of her mother as it smelled of peach. The flower was bright yellow and looked a lot like the spokes of a windmill. She felt it was the perfect gift for Sonja, as it looked to be the same color as the faithful robes. She carefully picked it up from the basket.

  She put the windmill flower in her pocket, and slowly wandered down Blomst Street. The air felt warm, and the sky was a bright blue. Sigrun whistled a merry tune, feeling like it was a good day to hold a harvest festival.