"I want you to call her Romane. Tell her... she is destined for greatness." And with that, Nonna breathed her last.
Unbridled horror swept over Kallisto as his wife's grip on his arm went limp. He pressed his ear against her chest - moist with sweat - but her heart was silent. He screwed his eyes shut in a bid to think rationally. Kallisto knew the Inquisition had probably sent two viginta to flush him out of his estate. They were probably expecting some form of token resistance, but Kallisto had commanded all his servants to flee so that they may survive. Alone, he was no match for forty men. He knew he had no time for the luxury of grief. He would mourn his wife later.
He drew his sharpened hunter's knife from its sheath in his belt - a footlong of mean steel that had been gifted to him eleven years earlier after his first hunt with his father. On that bright midsummer day he had felt queasy when he was instructed on how to butcher the doe. Now, on this dark midwinter night, he felt the same queasiness as he took his blade to Nonna's swollen abdomen.
In the dim candle light of that damp attic Kallisto's deft hands guided by experience carefully cut up his wife. It was messy work. Nonna's blood was soaking into his shirt and breeches and the mattress she lay on. Kallisto clenched his teeth - it was all he could do to stop himself from vomiting. The sound of a battering ram against the gate destroyed the tranquil silence of the night. The Sword of God had arrived to smite him. Kallisto was unfazed however, the gate and palisade would buy him some time. He furrowed his sweaty brow as he reached into Nonna's womb and took out his wailing child. In the dim candlelight he could not make out the child's features in detail - not like he had the time to scrutinize anyway.
He heard the sound of tortured wood crashing down as the Inquisition's men breached the gate. Kallisto wrapped the child in the first dry blanket he could find and ran for his life. As he was rushing out of the main keep he heard a gruff voice call out behind him but he dared not look. Huddling the child close to his chest Kallisto climbed vaulted over the palisade and onto the frost covered grass below. He heard the whizz and dull thuds of crossbow bolts missing him and striking the ground around him as he barreled toward the tree line.
Kallisto knew these woods like he knew his name, boyhood summers had made sure of that. The horsemen would be unable to follow him into the thick mass of pines, oaks and spruce trees, and the footmen could not track him under the canopy where moonlight did not shine. In spite of this knowledge Kallisto did not slow down. He was headed for a clearing where he knew Sebastian would be waiting for him and Nonna in a horse-drawn cart. Sebastian Colline lacked his brother-in-law's severity, but he was trustworthy and dependable - according to Nonna at least.
The plan had been for Kallisto to escort Nonna and a few handmaidens to the clearing to be smuggled North to Sanvilles where the King of the Semme still held sway. That quickly changed when Nonna went into labour. Kallisto then sent everyone away for he did not want their deaths on his conscience. In the end Nonna spent her final moments with her chivalrous knight by her side. A lump grew in his throat as the blissful memories of his marriage rose unbidden, almost as if they were waiting in the shallows for his determination to waver. He shook his head to bring himself back to the present.
Nonna was gone. It was just Kallisto and his child now; in the silent forest. It's too quiet. He couldn't hear any hiris or other birds of the night. He ground to an abrupt halt when the realization hit him that the child was silent. Horrified, he thought he had smothered it trying to get away from the Inquisition. He carefully uncovered the child's face - dread's icy tentacles clutching his heart. He was mighty relieved when the child cooed at him. In the dim light he could barely make out the child's features. The child's head was a patchwork of grey and a darker colour Kallisto couldn't discern. It vaguely reminded him of a heifer's patchwork coat. Kallisto uncovered his child further to reveal she was a girl, before curling up and crying out from the cold.
Romane. Nonna had named her. Kallisto's mouth spread into a pained smile as he covered up his daughter and continued running - a lot slower this time.
Kallisto could not tell whether it had been a half hour or two hours, but the eastern sky had begun to brighten when he got to the clearing.
"Who goes there?" the cloaked figure on horseback called out, reaching for his blade. Sebastian stopped midmotion when he recognized Kallisto. He dismounted and jogged to Kallisto. He looked very worried. "Are you okay? You're covered in a lot of blood."
Nonna's. "It's not mine."
"May be not all of it," Sebastian replied, gesturing to a short metal shaft coming out of Kallisto's left side just above his hip. He hadn't even noticed it before. Craning his neck backwards he saw his leg was covered in blood. He suddenly felt very tired. His legs wobbled and he collapsed onto his knees.
"Where's Nonna?" Sebastian asked, a panicked look on his face.
"She died after giving birth. There was a lot of blood." Bile rose in Kallisto's throat as he told the half truth. Sebastian didn't have to know everything. "She's not coming."
A grim look covered Sebastian. "You were supposed to be here at dusk," he stated coolly. "What happened?"
"The Inquisition." Kallisto replied. Sebastian opened his mouth to say something but Kallisto stopped the line of questioning that was about to come when he passed his daughter to her uncle.
"Romane. That was the name she gave her before she died. She said 'tell her she is destined for greatness.'"
Sebastian furrowed his brow. "Those were her last words?"
"Yes, now go. They'll have patrols out looking for me. Go while you still have some time before dawn."
Sebastian hesitated, glancing at Kallisto's wound. "I promise you, I'll do right by you and my sister."
Kallisto smiled. It must have been a weak smile, pathetic to look at, but Sebastian softly nodded. He untethered his horse from the cart and rode off. Kallisto was now alone, and darkness enveloped his vision and drowned him.