SOLARIS en línia

Chapter 1 PEACEFUL DAWN

Translated from Catalan by Kathleen McNerney

All had started the night before, since nothing happens without preludes. I knew it was not proper for a Count to go stargazing, so I climbed up secretly to the highest tower in the castle to look at Cassiopeia. According to our abbot, you had to locate the North Star first–the brightest in Ursa Minor–and then the chariot of Ursa Major. From there, any of the stars following in alignment with the polar star would lead without fail to the zigzagging constellation of the queen of Ethiopia.I had no difficulty finding her: there she was, resplendent as the steely blade of a sword yet to cut flesh. I went back to bed after staring at her for a long while, and with her brilliance still twinkling in my eyes, I buried myself in the blanket. That night, for the first time since my return to the castle, I was finally able to sleep. And I wouldn’t have gotten up early if it hadn’t been for horses neighing around the cemetery, waking me up at daybreak.

The nurse heard me and hurried to warm my clothes by the fire, as she had started to do again since I came back. In spite of the pleasant feeling on my skin, it bothered me deeply that she had gone back to the customs of my infancy without asking me. I silently regretted having given in to her pleas to take her back into my service after my father’s death, but I couldn’t tell her. To compensate for being late, I rushed to the reception room, where they immediately announced the arrival of a lady. As soon as my guard let her pass, her angry figure dashed right up to me. For a moment, I feared she had a dagger under her cape and that she was about to thrust it into my breast, and perhaps she did just that, without realizing it. But, instead of attacking me, she fell to my feet with humility.

“Count of Alvernia, I have come to demand justice of you!”

I instinctively looked around for my father, but it was futile. My uncle, who usually replaced him in his absence, was not present either. It was then that I realized that the Count the lady was addressing was myself, that she was asking for justice from me, that I was the one who must see that the laws of our County, from Sovinhi to the source of the Tarn, were respected and obeyed. A painful shiver ran up my spine.

It was on that early morning, not the day my father died, that I became the Count of Alvernia: it was an honor and a sacred duty. After many restless nights, Cassiopeia had helped me sleep, and I had awakened with a clearer head than I had ever known in all my fourteen years. The myth that the Abbot had told me came to my mind. There’s no avoiding it: just as we receive the rights of our parents, we also receive their responsibilities. I finally understood the words that my tutor, Raimon de Campllong, said to me when he came to get me at the monastery of Sant Giralt.

“Brother Roger, your father is dead and his brother, your uncle, is in his company on that sad ending. Your are his only living son and you are old enough to govern the County. You must leave your studies and the monastery. Your vassals need you, Count Roger! Do not let them see even the shadow of a tear in your eyes. Imagine how much your father’s enemies would gain courage and valor if they thought you were weak and helpless!”

And so, with those words still burning in my brain, I had the lady stand up. I looked into her eyes, which were mauve, with pale lilac circles underneath. They were filled with a sadness that pierced the soul. At my age, she was already a widow, and here I was allowing myself to be dressed by the nurse! From deep inside, a grave, solemn voice, one that was new to me, ushered forth:

“Rise, Blanca, no mourning woman needs to humiliate herself before a lord, no matter how high he might be!”

Holding back her tears with great valor, her lips trembling like the waters of a pond, she explained her case to me. Jeroni de Tarn, my father’s clerk and chronicler, copied down each word on a parchment, and then held it out to me with a gesture I didnÕt understand. Seeing my hesitation, he murmured softly:

“You must seal it, my Count…”

I thought I would lose my head just from reading the title: “FIRST PARCHMENT OF COUNT ROGER OF ALVERNIA.”I took a deep breath before squeezing my ring firmly into the warm wax. Under the weight of my hand, the arms of Alvernia would be printed forever on my first official act as a Count.