The Sword and the Flame by Stephen Lawhead Page A

more securely than she guessed. For try as she might, she could not banish it from her.
    So, with no hope of ridding herself of it, and lacking the immediate strength to fight it, she merely gave herself over to the despair she felt and let it tug her along where it would.
    What am I to do? she thought. What am I to do?
    She had, with the death of her husband, inherited vast holdings of lands. Several small villages were under her protection, as well as a castle and a summer estate, each with a full complement of stewards, overseers, and servants. Her treasury was one of the largest in Elsendor. But all this she would have given up gladly, if only it would have offered her a glim-mer of hope for happiness.
    â€œDo not frown so, my lady,” said Chloe.
    â€œWhat?” Esme pulled herself out of her gloomy thoughts.
    â€œPromise me you will try to enjoy the occasion.”
    Esme smiled. “I shall try. I know it is not seemly for a lady to scowl like a haggard.” She sighed again. “Oh, Chloe, what am I going to do?”
    Once at the festival site, they made their way among the yellow-and- white-striped pavilions, now being jostled by the roaming populace. They walked toward the king’s pavilion, pausing to watch acrobats and jugglers, or to sample the treats of the vendors.
    â€œLady Esme! Lady Esme!” she heard a voice call out, and turned to see the two little princesses running to her. “We are so glad you came! Oh!” said Brianna breathlessly. “There is so much to see!”
    â€œSo much to see!” said Elena. “Come with us!”
    â€œDo you want to watch us in a game?” asked Brianna.
    â€œOh, please,” cried Elena, “you must!”
    â€œI would love to,” said Esme.
    The girls were off again, quick as grasshoppers, darting toward a large ring of people gathered around a game of skittles.
    â€œI am glad you changed your mind, Esme.” Bria fell into step beside her.
    Esme dropped her gaze to her feet. “It was Chloe’s idea,” she said slowly. Bria heard the undertone of despair in her voice. “I must have gabbled like a fishwife last night.”
    â€œWhat is a little gabbling between friends? I welcome your confidence. If you care to talk, I will listen.”
    Esme did not speak again for a moment. The two women walked together in silence. “It is strange, is it not?” she said finally.
    â€œWhat is?”
    â€œLife.” Esme glanced at her friend and then turned away again quickly. “Only yesterday we had so much before us—so many bright hopes for the future, so many dreams, so much joy. Those were good days—”
    â€œAnd will be again.”
    â€œFor others perhaps, but not for me. It seems my fate was cast from the beginning. I was never—”
    â€œAll were born for happiness, Esme. But you have seen much of pain and trouble, and it will take time to heal those inner wounds. You must not expect them to disappear in an evening.”
    â€œI thought by coming here it would be different. But I have brought my trouble with me.”
    â€œThen we shall do whatever can be done to free you—and you must also help.”
    â€œI will try, Bria. I will try for your sake.”
    â€œNot for me, dear friend. For yourself.”

    The hunt moved through the thick-grown trails of Pelgrin Forest, and the wood rang with the voices of the hunters and the sounding of horns whenever beast was caught or trophy won. In a clearing, through which coursed a shining stream, Quentin and Durwin stopped to allow their horses to drink.
    â€œTired so soon?” asked Durwin. Other riders entered the meadows, also paused at the water, and then went on.
    â€œI should return to the festival. My presence there will be required to judge the games.” He listened to the crash of horses and riders through the undergrowth, and felt the warm sun on his face. “It is a good hunt,