Duty-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book II ]

32

Because food in the Holy City had become scarce, Matei had called upon networks of supporters in the country to send aid to the hungry citizens. Supplies were slow to come, and it had become increasingly troublesome for those tasked with parsing out the food to do so safely, for the hungry people were given to unrest.

Mhera rode out one dreary morning after a breakfast of nothing but tea shared with Gella and Rhea. She had accompanied Captain Alban to meet a caravan, eager to do something other than sit in a padded chair and think. When they arrived, she was disheartened to see only three wagons at the gate, their beds covered in canvas.

The captain helped Mhera down from her horse. "Your Grace, you should keep your distance," he said.

But Mhera had no intention of waiting. She looked up at the city gates and then surveyed the carts that had arrived. "You're sending two to other parts of the city?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Good; I can help with the last one." 

Captain Alban stepped behind her, surveying the crowd of jostling citizens with his spear grasped tightly in his right hand. "It isn't safe; I do wish Your Grace would stay mounted and at a distance."

With a frown, Mhera picked up a basket of potatoes and skirted Alban. "Am I to live my life in fear of hungry children and worried mothers? Set aside your spear and help me, Captain; I cannot carry it all."

Mhera followed the trio of soldiers who had taken their own loads of food from the cart and approached the crowd that waited some distance away, kept at bay by more soldiers with their spears. As she scanned the faces, almost all of them marked, she saw fear and desperation. She set down her basket and picked up a few potatoes, holding them aloft. "Sir, please let them through."

One of the soldier nodded. "Your Grace." He turned to the citizens and called, "Orderly, now."

"There is a share for everyone," Mhera said. But her basket was soon empty, and then the next, and she began to realize how quickly the food would go. Near at hand, Captain Alban applied himself to rationing apples, and other soldiers scooped portions of grain into any vessel the citizens had ready—a basket, a sack, an apron.

"Thank you, Your Grace."

"Thank you, Your Grace!"

"Bless you."

Mhera smiled at each person, but her gladness was short lived. The cart had seemed full to bursting, but it was emptied within the hour, and still the people came. She ignored the angry twinge of her own empty stomach; they would keep nothing back. "Share what you can," she urged the last few people she could serve.

"What will we do?" demanded an anxious man. The dark circles beneath his eyes suggested sleepless nights; he held twin girls by the hands. "We're starving!"

"We are making every effort to restore order and replenish the city's supplies," Mhera said. "I promise you, we are doing all we can."

"While you sit up there in your palace and watch!" The man bent and scooped one of the girls up into his arms.

"As you see, Her Grace has come down to be with the people," said Captain Alban crisply. "Hold your tongue, citizen."

"No," Mhera admonished him gently. "No, Captain, he's right, and if there is one thing I shall not do when I wear the crown, it will be to silence the voice of a citizen in need. Sir," and here she addressed the father, "we are all of us hungry and frightened. I can assure you, we have as little as you up at the palace. Emperor Matei ordered the pantries turned out and shared among the people. And winter is coming. We are in dire straits—but you are not alone. We will not abandon you."