Violya

Chapter 17 Jessima-3

“Queen Jessima, Prince Ernest, my man has arrived from the tunnel. We have people from Cleland City arriving.”

“People?” Ernie said springing upright.

“Many people. We need to attend them immediately,” the lord replied.

Ernie looked at Jessima. “You go and rest, my dear, you’re surely still exhausted after this morning’s… exertions. I’ll go with Lord Chattergoon.”

“No. I’m coming,” Jessima said.

Ernie shook his head. “Is that wise, my dear, we don’t know who...”

Jessima started towards the gate. “I am the Queen Regent of Fertilian, and people from Cleland City are my people, my responsibility.”

Jessima had not been back to the Lian tunnel opening since she had arrived almost three months before. When she had reached Lian the place had been quiet and orderly. The contrast when she came upon the tunnel late that morning was absolute. There were people everywhere, with more spewing forth from the exit.

The crowd was noisy, weeping for joy that they had made it. They babbled amongst themselves, unsure where to go or what to do next. Some clung to the guards who attempted to keep order. Many begged for water and food. Most were women and children. The few men with them were either elderly, injured, or incapable of fighting as a soldier.

Unable to get close to the entrance through the swelling mass of people, Jessima, Ernie, Chattergoon, a handful of Ernie’s attendants and ten soldiers paused on the edges of the throng.

“Protect the Queen,” Chattergoon ordered the soldiers. “Stay alert, there could be Thorne men hidden among the crowd.” The soldiers formed a protective circle around Jessima.

“Where are we going to house so many?” Ernie pondered, staring at all those in front of him. “And still they come.” He picked up Betsy and held her firmly under his arm. Jessima knew the little dog would soon get lost among all the legs.

“First, we should get them food and water, Ernie, that journey is horrific and they are likely feeling disorientated and exhausted,” Jessima said.

She headed to the tunnel entrance, her soldiers encouraging people to move out of her way. Chattergoon edged in beside her. She could hear Ernie giving orders to his attendants in her wake.

Slowly, as the crowd’s eyes adjusted to the daylight, and seeing past the crumpled attire, the dirty, day-old functional breeches, they recognised Jessima. Shouts of, “The Queen!” erupted. Eventually the crowd’s fervour stilled as all attention turned, expectantly, to Jessima.

She had never given an unscripted speech. The last time she had spoken in public was at the marketplace, and no one, apart from a drunk, had listened to her. Now, they latched onto her every movement, rapt.

Be a Queen, Jessima. Be their Queen. I can do this. I killed a man. I can talk to my people.

“Residents of Cleland City, welcome to Lian. We are bringing water and food for you. We will find you shelter. Please be patient,” Jessima announced.

Murmurs of understanding rippled through the crowd.

Jessima turned to a woman who stood near her. She was covered in a layer of dust and tightly clasped the hands of two young children. They stood numb, blinking and silent.

“Madam,” Jessima said, “we will organise shelter for you and your family, and are fetching water for your children even now. Please, can you tell me what has happened?”

Through the grime, the woman blushed at being addressed by the queen. She bowed and then said with a raspy, parched voice, “My Queen, the Thorne army has overrun Cleland City, all surviving Cleland soldiers retreated to hold the castle. We left when we could through the tunnels, and many escaped into the countryside. But some poor souls were left behind.”

The woman shook her head, a tear etching a line through the dirt on her cheek. “The Thorne soldiers chased us through the tunnels for a while, picking off those at the back but then left us be. We have lost some along the way, taking wrong turns in the maze of tunnels or succumbing to hunger and exhaustion.”

She wiped the tear from her face, before she continued, “There was one man who led us true.”

The woman looked around and then pointed to the tunnel entrance, at a figure still helping people out. He was tall, cloaked and his hood was up. A scarf was wrapped around his neck and face, exposing only his eyes. Under the cloak, he was dressed in breeches and boots. He had a sword strapped to his back and over that, a pack similar to what Chattergoon had worn when he had led them through the tunnels.

Jessima noticed Chattergoon’s eyes narrow. “Who is this man?” she asked him.

“There are few who know the tunnels, and most are here. We shall find out.”

Chattergoon strode towards the entrance, the crowd parting like a wave to let him through.

“Thank you,” Jessima said to the woman and followed behind the lord.

“You there,” Chattergoon said to the figure, drawing his sword. “Show yourself.”

The man, focused on his task of assisting the last few people out of the tunnel, looked up. Noticing the drawn sword, he slowly pulled back his hood and scarf, exposing a young face. He was perhaps twelve or thirteen years of age. Those in the crowd nearest the boy gasped.

“Philip?” Chattergoon said, sheathing his sword.

“Father,” the boy replied and then ran to him. They embraced.

“I told you to stay at the estate,” Chattergoon chided while kissing his son’s head. “What were you doing in the city? What about your siblings? Your mother?”

Jessima cleared her throat and Chattergoon’s back straightened. The lord extracted himself from the boy’s embrace, turning to Jessima.

“Your Grace, this is my eldest son, Philip.”

Philip bowed low and kept his eyes down until Jessima spoke, “Philip, you are very brave leading these people to safety. Please, answer your father’s questions, and then I have some of my own for you.”

“Yes, your Grace,” Philip said standing back up to full height. He looked to his father and a grin spread across his features. In a rush, he said, “Joanne and I snuck into the city as everyone was fleeing to see the Thorne army for ourselves.”

Chattergoon tutted. “You both disobeyed my order. Your mother must be desperately worried.”

Philip shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “Um, well, it was Mother’s idea. We knew you would want to know what had happened.”

Chattergoon’s lips twitched into a small smile.

“Joanne?” Jessima asked.

“My eldest daughter,” Chattergoon said.

Pausing to see if Jessima had any further questions, Philip continued in his rapid manner. “The city was evacuating, the remaining soldiers from the Cleland army retreated to hold Cleland Castle, and the Thornes entered the city sooner than we had anticipated. We did it fair and square, Father. We drew straws. Joanne led many of the townspeople out into the countryside and was then to return to the estate. And I led the rest here through the tunnels to find you.”

Chattergoon nodded. “And the triplets?”

“Fine. Stayed home to look after the estate with Mother. They all send their love,” Philip said.

“You have five children?” Jessima exclaimed.

Chattergoon nodded. “I am blessed with two girls and three boys.”

“Your wife must have her hands full,” Jessima said.

Chattergoon’s shoulders tensed and Jessima realised she had been too familiar with the lord. He had never once spoken about his family to her.

Philip, sensing his father’s discomfort, and clearly not shy about being familiar, said, “Your Grace, our mother is expecting number six. She’s the famous tunnel runner, Kerrin Smith, otherwise known as the Scorpion Hunter, have you heard of her?”

Jessima’s brows furrowed as she tried to recall if she’d heard that name. Smith was a commoner surname, and no women were permitted to be tunnel runners… officially.

Before Jessima could probe for more information about Chattergoon’s wife, the lord deftly changed the subject. “Ernest’s orderlies are here to tend to these people’s needs. Your Grace, shall we return to somewhere more private for you to ask your questions of my son.”

Jessima, suddenly aware that hundreds of people were watching them and listening to their conversation, agreed and turned back in the direction of the fortress, giving words of comfort to the crowd as she passed.

Ernie was in his element, busy ordering people about, but paused when Jessima approached.

She recalled Chattergoon’s words from earlier that morning. “Prince Ernest, please do everything in your power to care and find shelter for these people. You excel at this, I do not. I trust you to manage this as you see fit.”

Ernie nodded and waved Jessima and the Chattergoons on. “Leave this to me, my dear. Take my carriage back, it has just arrived with more of my attendants.”

As they climbed into the carriage Jessima could hear Philip Chattergoon.

“So I told him, the stubborn old man, that the tunnel we needed was the second on the left. But he didn’t listen, insisted it was the third on the left because that was the way in his time when he was a runner under Lord Horace Chattergoon, and off he went that way. Of course, plenty of people followed him, trusting in an old man before a young man. I was putting on my man voice,” Philip said the last two words in a deeper tone, “because you said no one trusts a boy, so off they all went and I carried on with all those you saw, and guess who made it? And guess who got lost in the tunnels? I feel bad for all those who followed the old man. They’ll never make it out alive.

“Of course, I wanted to tell him that I was Lord Andrew Chattergoon and the Scorpion Hunter’s son, no less, and that a lot had changed since Grandpa’s time, but like you said, always be discreet, never give up your identity if it’s not required…”

Chattergoon held up a palm to silence his son as Jessima settled herself into the carriage and it rumbled back towards Ernie’s fortress.

Chattergoon eased himself onto the seat opposite her as Philip perched next to him, gawping at Jessima. The boy near burst with excitement and couldn’t stifle the wide-eyed grin on his face.

Not able to contain himself any longer, Philip said, “Oh, but you are prettier in real life, Queen Jessima.”

Chattergoon snapped, “Hold your tongue in front of the Queen, Lip.”

Philip hunched into himself and dropped his eyes at his father’s scolding. His smile dramatically turned upside down.

“My apologies, your Grace,” Philip said sheepishly.

“Apology accepted.” Jessima smiled broadly and Philip looked up, his face brightening.

“You are very kind, your Grace. We don’t call him Lip for nothing.” Chattergoon glanced at his son with a warning to keep his mouth shut, that next time the listener might not be so lenient.

“Philip, do you know if the Cleland soldiers held the castle?” Jessima asked.

Philip sat very close to his father, their arms and legs touching. It was clear they wanted to embrace tightly but were remaining proper in the presence of their Queen. Philip glanced up at Chattergoon who nodded.

Philip turned to Jessima. “When we left, the Cleland army still held the castle. The Thorne army was relentless in its attack of the city, it will find a way to take the castle, I’m certain. Joanne and I got close, they had made camp in Three Acres, Father, and we snuck up onto that lookout ridge you showed us. Joanne remembered the way, you know the—”

“Stick to the point, Lip, and answer Queen Jessima,” Chattergoon cut in.

“Yes, sorry. Well we got close and there was no sign of King Hugo. Rumour is he died on the battlefield.”

“We have heard,” Jessima said.

“But they have Prince Toby as a prisoner,” Philip said.

Jessima gasped and her hand flew to cover her mouth.

“Are you sure?” Chattergoon said.

Seeing the distress the news had brought Jessima, Philip nodded vigorously. “Absolutely. He didn’t look too good. Beaten and chained. But it was definitely him. Joanne saw him first, and you know how she has his painting up in her bedroom, she’s besotted with him.”

Jessima retreated into a trance. Chattergoon and his son continued to talk about the Thorne army size, weapons, cavalry but Jessima could not follow.

A flutter began in her stomach and made its way up her chest and into her mouth. She thought she might be sick. She gazed out the window to see how far they were from the fortress and picked at a loose thread on her dress. She was anxious to get back to her son, Toby’s son.