Verity 4:

I hear that she didn’t carry me all the way. I also owe my life to some nameless and generous caravan master, who offered his assistance and got me to the Mainsford physician’s just in time. I’m now wallowing in uncomfortably comfortable sheets while she gets the rest of the medicine from the physician. The Mayor of Mainsford insisted on offering me a room – and a sumptuously appointed one at that, almost the equal of my own. I can hear the motion and bustle from downstairs, the clink of armour and booted feet mixing with the shouting of men and the rustle of pen on paper. Each new thud and bark adds itself to a slowly growing pile of guilt. I instinctively know that with this much activity, I should be moving. I do try but I am confronted by the disturbing sensation of being physically unable to move my limbs. No matter how hard I try my mind cannot overcome my body.

The city is under siege. Or at least it will be, or something, but not for long I gather. Some terribly boring details drifting from downstairs (slightly more interesting than the bed hangings above my head) inform me that Mainsford is not meant to be defended. It’s a trading city (even I know that much) and the architecture will do it’s best to welcome the invaders in.

It really is an awful situation – and terribly embarrassing. The civil authorities in Mainsford have insisted that I escape the city and will send an escort overland to protect me, soldiers that are sorely needed. All knowing that its my house that dumped them in this mess in the first place! They’ve even drafted a missive to the emperor petitioning for me to be considered a ‘government in exile’ and assorted diplomatic nonsense.

In my opinion it’s all rather too much and I cant help but feel a bit of a burden. And I hate that I cant properly protest in my current state, and I hate that it looks like an excuse to be bundled off like a fragile and regal package! I look like I’m just letting my subjects deal with everything while I lounge about like a lemon – as lady Summerfield used to say – and the worst part is that it’s sort of true.

My illness may have put me in a poor disposition I admit.

Regardless I will be safe – or safeish – which is some comfort. Anna is organising everything like she does so well. I suppose I will go back to sleep.

The next span of time, during which preparations for departure are made, is difficult to pin down. It sort of flits about – and nobody tells me anything, so I’m left in a useless stupor. Slowly though, I begin to collect myself, trying to grab bits of time and shove them roughly into a narrative. By the time that we must leave I have enough of a grasp on causality that I can appreciate how lucky I am to be alive. Marsh fever is a serious business, and the mirror shows a rather hollower and paler thing than I am used to. The medicine has been disgusting but I do not particularly mind – it is received wisdom that anything painful is good for the soul. In that sense I suppose my soul is rejoicing.

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In the end, they would only allow a short caravan and a detachment of twenty soldiers to be sent with us. They were a mixture of the youngest and richest and the most experienced. The youngest were requested by me, the richest were added by the mayor and the most experienced were picked out by Anna. We were also sent the town Herald – called Herald – who must have had to call some favours. I couldn’t stand him when he came to swear fealty – they’ve all being doing that, as if there was nothing better to do in city under siege. I disliked it immensely. Herald in particular, reminded me of some of the fat and sweaty men I’d occasionally had to entertain in Cork – the kind who would make pointed comments about their business interests and charming eligible sons.

None of the young soldiers had the grace to be as charming. Many of them either complete louts or sons too rich to be caught up in a siege. Only some of the veteran members caught my eye and I noted them down to consult as advisors. One was committed to the group specifically as such, our Tet, missing as he was, half of one leg. He struck me as easy with it, however, and he was almost as discomforted as I was with the fealty ceremony. That was corporal Keller, a promising older soldier with an air of cool capability – I was glad that he would be in charge.

That was the only contribution I made to the creation of my caravan though, Anna worked very well behind the scenes – I know she did.

It was ready before the hordes arrived in force; apparently they were going slowly, looting, and properly establishing control. You could see the smoke from the battlements when we left.

It was given night, though many were about working at defences. The light is in the sky – a state I never got used to – it lights up all the shapes and gives new golden colour to all the sights around. The inhabitants of Mainsford don’t need gas lamps on the streets and in the houses – they can see all the brilliant hues of their city just by stepping outside. They conform to the tradition of given night imposed by Cork but it’s not necessary here. The world is changing as we escape my home, my lands. And despite it all I can’t wait to see the East.

I won’t miss Cork – in fact as we roll away in our great black and white carriage, I know that my life lies before me in the land of the Sun. Many have thought my mind strange, but I know that, like a vine, it has not been killed by the cold or the rain and it will not miss its home – it will grow towards the light.