The Spider

by Leo Carew

  There was a soft laugh. “I’m afraid so.”

  Roper rattled his tinder-box and, after a little fumbling on the floor, managed to light the corner of a linen spill. By the small yellow glow, he lit three candles set on the low table before Bellamus, now deeply notched from Keturah’s use of it as a shield. The spymaster’s face came into view.

  Roper closed his tinder-box and fell back onto the floor, hugging his knees. They looked at each other for a time. “I’m sorry,” said Bellamus, gesturing at the stained walls, his hand lingering at the corner where Hafdis had died. “Sorry for what happened here.”

  “I am too,” said Roper. He was so exhausted as to be entirely numb, completely unable to absorb the death and violence of the day. “Why is your own side trying to kill you?” he asked.

  Bellamus sighed, lips twisted by the roots of a smile. “Mostly, I would think, because Earl Seaton is no great supporter of mine. That was always true, and will be even more so with some… news that recently came to his attention.”

  “What news?”

  “It doesn’t really matter,” said Bellamus, shrugging. “But also, killing me would have been easier than extracting me. He probably thinks I know things which would be exceedingly helpful to you.”

  “I expect you do,” said Roper, mildly. The two shared a look for a moment longer. Then Roper spoke in a quiet voice. “Keturah tells me you saved her life.”

  Bellamus snorted. “Far less surely than she saved mine.”

  Roper picked up one of the chess pieces on the table before Bellamus, his hands considering its rough surface. “Well, spymaster. It gives me an excuse to admit that I am sorry we are enemies.”

  Bellamus shrugged. “I knew that. I’m sorry about it too.”

  Roper felt almost as though the next words came without his consent. “I’m not sure I can keep captive a man who fought beside my wife and unborn child.”

  Bellamus looked incredulous.

  “The only point of all this; keeping you alive, coming to speak with you, was to press you for information. I know I won’t do that any more.”

  “So you’re going to let me go, then?” said Bellamus hopefully.

  Roper laughed. “Well now that you voice it out loud, it does seem absurd. But I think that may be what I’m about to do.” They stared at each other for a moment.

  “One last game?” Bellamus nodded at the piece in Roper’s hands.

  “I would like that very much,” said Roper. He untied the spymaster and the two sat opposite each other once more. Roper took the first move. “How was it?” he asked, gesturing about at the ruined tent. “In here.”

  “Desperate,” said Bellamus, bleakly. “We were so far outmatched. Every one of us was hanging on by spider-silk. If you had not arrived when you did… Why did you arrive?” he asked suddenly.

  “We should never have let it happen in the first place,” said Roper, taking a move. “As you know, we lost the Skiritai—our scouts—to that sickness. We should have known that raid was coming, but the scouts we did have were inexperienced, and knew nothing about it until it was too late. One of them came to find me belatedly, and fortunately we’d already mounted the Guard so they were more mobile for the chase. Almighty, that was a close-run thing.”

  Bellamus was getting the better of the early exchanges on the board, and Roper frowned and began to concentrate. His pieces and the spymaster’s scraped into menacing positions, full of bluster but seldom making good on their threats.

  “And what are you going to do with your freedom?” asked Roper.

  “Trying to distract me, Lord Roper?” said Bellamus, smiling. “You could let me win, just this once.”

  “I’d rather know,” said Roper. “I suspect there’s not much you can do to stop us now, but I’d rather know what I’m about to unleash upon myself.”

  Bellamus raised his eyebrows. “As you say, there’s not much I can do to you now. My spy network is broken. You scattered it when you arrived at Brimstream, and it will take me years to reassemble that secretive band of men and women. They’ll all think me dead, and move on with their lives. They’ll go back to their homes; my favours and threats will expire.” He shrugged. “I am broken. I am a commoner once more, without the leverage I once had over my betters.” He brooded. Then he looked up and grinned. “Perhaps the time has come to find a woman. I had a friend, in Brimstream. He reminded me of what a life of peace could look like. A good woman, a small farm, some dogs and fruit trees and hunting. A life where my duties and the things I find satisfying coincide. As a spymaster I was constantly threatened and running, and the things I did rarely came off, or had any discernible effect. I just had to keep trying. Perhaps the time has come to find something more consistently rewarding.” He smiled to himself. “Imagine that.”

  Roper smiled back. “That sounds a good life. That’s what I want. That’s why we’re here. Security. If I were to go and live that life now, it would be my children who had to do this, or my grandchildren. And they would have fewer men with which to accomplish it. This war never ends. It will wear us down, until quite suddenly, the moment will arrive when we do not have the strength to finish it comprehensively. And then they will curse their ancestors, who lived in this semi-security and frittered away the time and strength to grasp it. We can leave them with a better life than we have enjoyed.”

  “And what are you going to do with the Sutherners when you have taken this land?” asked Bellamus.

  “Subdue them,” said Roper. “They can stay, but they will not be allowed weapons, or to train at war. And eventually, whether in a hundred years or a thousand, they will have to migrate to Erebos. This island is returning to the law of the wild, and the Sutherner does not belong there.”

  Bellamus looked very long at Roper. Shadows fluttered on the walls as moths crowded the candlelight. Then he nodded slowly to himself, looking back at the board. The spymaster’s pieces were shuffling back, retreating beneath Roper’s renewed onslaught. Roper advanced, twisting and grappling to get to Bellamus’s king. The way was not quite clear, but Bellamus’s pieces were hopelessly scattered.

  Until they closed in around Roper. A counter-attack began, Bellamus unravelling Roper’s formation from back to front. At first it seemed isolated: one lost bishop. Then came a knight, and his queen. It was too late by the time Roper realised the rot that had set in. Bellamus drew his attention and then took his pieces one by one, until Roper’s king was left naked. From there, the tussle was exceedingly brief, and wooden pincers enclosed his king.

  Roper blinked down at the board. Then he laughed. “Damn! I wanted to preserve my record. That improvement was by an order of magnitude. That was genius. How did you do that?” He frowned, a sudden suspicion creeping over his face.

  Bellamus sat placidly, a small smile in place. “You overreached yourself, Lord Roper. You’ve become complacent!”

  Roper smiled and shook his head. “Did I? I suppose I did.” But still he looked at Bellamus, the spymaster returning his gaze until something uncomfortable had formed between them. “Well,” said Roper, holding out his hand. “Congratulations. Well played.” They shook. “I can’t believe I’ll leave it at a loss,” he said, dismayed.

  Bellamus laughed. “You surely aren’t reconsidering my release based on losing our final chess game?”

  “You do have a way of phrasing my thoughts that makes them seem absurd,” Roper allowed. “Come, then. I’ll see you past the sentries.”

  There was still disbelief on Bellamus’s face as Roper stood, and held out a hand to pull him up. The spymaster’s knees cracked as he got to his feet, and he hunched over for a time, looking frail.

  Together, they left the tent. Bellamus had nothing to take with him, so they simply strode out into the camp, Roper dismissing the astonished guardsmen. They moved away from the dim glow of Deorceaster, and towards the trees Vigtyr had fled into just the previous night. The outer sentries examined Roper incredulously, confirming his intentions as if the
y could not believe he knew what he was saying. Finally, they let them past and the two reached the trees. Roper took off his cloak and handed it to Bellamus. It would trail behind the spymaster like a shadow, but keep him warm until he could reach shelter. “Do you swear you will not act against us?” asked Roper. “That you’ll go off and find that woman and that farm of yours? That you won’t make me regret this?”

  “I swear,” said Bellamus. “I’m exhausted by all this, and it’s fruitless now. I’m going to go and enjoy myself, at last. Thank you, Lord Roper. I hope we meet again.”

  Roper’s teeth flashed in the dark. “I rather hope we don’t. Farewell, Bellamus.”

  “Farewell.”

  Roper turned away, calling out his return to the sentry.

  He did not believe Bellamus. Not really. A man could not change his nature, or at least not with a single decision. It takes toil and strife, and eventually, if you have tried long enough the change can become habit. Bellamus was a spymaster. A wildly ambitious upstart, driven obsessively for glory. He would never be happy with those fine things he had described, even if he did briefly seek them out. He might even find them before realising it was not enough for him. But he had lost his web of spies, and would have to scuttle off somewhere and spend many years weaving before he was the centre of so many imperceptible strands once more, and was once more a threat to their campaign.

  In one of their games Roper had spoken of responsibility to the spymaster. Told him it was what made life worth living, and there was great truth in that. It gave Roper purpose, but if he had been true to his responsibilities this evening, he would have executed Bellamus, or tortured him to see if he knew anything that might aid their cause. But he liked the spymaster and felt a vague debt to him now that Keturah and he had fought side by side. He had been true to his responsibilities at the cost of everything else in his life for so long, that just once, to ignore it was a relief. There was an unmistakable lightness as he walked back into camp. For once, he was not acting out of duty or necessity. That was for him. And for Keturah.

  32

  Help Me

  In the dark, just beyond the camp, Bellamus stood and watched as Roper strolled away.

  There had been no guilt at deceiving him. Bellamus could empathise with those dreams of women and farms, but not afford them himself. Not when he could be trampled at any moment by some lord demanding higher rent or taxes. Or worse, by some Anakim master, oblivious to the need to sow wheat, clear the dykes and trim the hedgerows. He had almost talked himself out of this conflict before Roper had explained what would happen to Suthdal when this was all over. Complete evisceration. A vast terraforming project that would remove all traces of Suthern influence on this land. Certainly nothing that Bellamus could live with, in peace.

  He could go back to Safinim, or to Iberia, but what did those places have for him? Nothing. Long-forgotten relationships, stale landscapes and lifestyles. Obscurity. And here, he had the ear of a queen, if he could only get word to her. His web was not completely gone. He still had Vigtyr, almost alone of his informants in being self-motivated, rather than moving at Bellamus’s direction. There was much he could do with his aid. This was not over. He was not done.

  When Roper got back to the chessboard, he would find one piece missing. The queen with the sealed compartment inside. Bellamus was already planning how he might use that.

  There were very few things unique to all humans, the spymaster considered. They all shared fire, language and laughter but most other things varied. Numbers were inconsistent. So were morals, language-structures, tastes, time and values. They were taught, or imprinted by whatever strange, invisible, and unmistakably unique code distinguished the brain of the Anakim and the Sutherner. But there was something new that Bellamus had started to notice only in the past few years. A universal instinct which transcended all of that: a powerful obligation that could not be reversed or swayed by culture, duty or education, and he had used to secure his release.

  Reciprocity.

  The cloak of the Black Lord about his shoulders, he turned and disappeared into the dark. This was not over yet.

  Roper fed the fire, aware of Keturah’s eyes resting on him. “Where have you been, Husband?” He nodded his head to the dark. She held out her hands towards him and he stared down at her tattered palms in horror. “It doesn’t hurt,” she said calmly. “It is a strange world. I would be dead now without Uvoren’s poisoning.” She jerked her hands impatiently and he used her wrists to pull her upright.

  “Those wounds need cleaning as fast as possible.”

  Keturah shrugged. “First, I must bury Hafdis.”

  “Where is she?”

  Keturah gestured towards Deorceaster. “Over there. We covered her with a shroud.”

  They walked in silence for a time. When they were a little way beyond the glow of the flames, he turned to her. “I have just released Bellamus.”

  She smiled faintly in return. “That’s no surprise. You’ve liked him for weeks.”

  He could not return her smile. He stared at her, unsure where to begin with what he knew he must say. “I will be honest with you. I can’t think with you here. All my attention should be on this campaign and this army, and my thoughts turn to you, again and again.” He paused, trying to make her understand. “Your presence makes me feel weak.” He held out a hand to the side of her cheek, and she leaned her head into it. “I intend to surrender to that vulnerability fully, one day. I will let it reduce me to nothing and live stupefied by your side, somewhere in the wild. We’ll exist among the forests, hunt for our food and build our own shelter and see to our own fires. We will raise our children, and each day will be lived only for its own sake. And we’ll be able to have that because of what we do here. Because of the future we’ll secure. But we must finish that task. For now, my life does not belong to me. I have responsibilities. Things I must finish.”

  She spoke suddenly. “It’s all right, Husband.” She laid a hand over her belly. “It is time I went north, in any case. These are no lands to bear an Anakim child. Not yet. Though I know you will make them into that, one day.” That reply nearly broke Roper. Where was her stubborn and acidulous retort? Her tart observation of how he was wrong, and why? He could do no more than embrace her silently. When they broke apart, she looked at him closely. “There have been so many strange moments where you are distracted. When we lie together at night, I can feel your heart straining. What has been on your mind? I am not the only draw on your attention.”

  He gripped her elbows and hesitated, feeling the pressure of the two destructive words that had circled in his head for so long. “I have had…” he took a breath to fortify himself. “Two words going around my head for months now.” He gripped her arms even tighter. He took a breath, nearly able to say them, but they were too big. He could not get his mouth around them. He tried again, and choked them out. “Help me.” Her face blurred before him and tears splattered down his cheeks.

  “My love,” she said, horror in her voice. “How? How can I?”

  “I don’t know,” said Roper, shaking his head. “But I’m not sure I can hold on any more. All I have felt for months is a rising dread. It is constantly like I have to retch. I can’t stop it, I can’t live with it, I can’t carry it alone. Help me.”

  Her hand found his chest, covering his galloping heart. “All right,” she said, with such authority that it stilled him. “It’s all right my love. I know how.”

  He waited.

  “I am amazed you have held on for this long. First, you must accept the way you feel. Asappa. Live with it. It will pass, like everything else. This is the price you have paid for taking on the greatest responsibility I have ever heard of. You have shouldered a problem that was immense to start with, but has become harder and harder with each setback. And you can handle near anything with the right company, but you carry that alone, because you alone do not wish to turn back. You have been this army’s will and energy for so long, it ha
s isolated you.”

  It seemed she understood something that Roper had not. His efforts had been so convincing that he himself had fallen victim to them. No one thought to reassure him of the raised spirits and sense of momentum he left in his wake, because his energy seemed so natural. Her words steadied him a little, but always there was that doubt gnawing at him. “And you?” he asked, steeling himself for her reply. “Even Gray has suggested it. Everyone thinks we’re beaten. Would you turn back?”

  She met his eyes. “We spoke about this before, my love. We decided. There is no turning back. We must finish this.”

  He clasped her hand, and leaned his forehead into hers, breathing deeply.

  “So here is what you must do.” Her hand spread over his heart. “Take Lundenceaster.” He could see her smile into him. “Finish this. But you will have to do it alone. You are right; there is too much turbulence for you to focus. I am going north, and before our child is born, you will have Suthdal on its knees, and have lifted the responsibility from yourself. And then we will go to that wilderness, beyond our dark river, and heal.” She broke away from him. “Will you promise me that?”

  Roper nodded.

  “Keep yourself healthy until you can do that. Find something to distract yourself. Find that silence. Pray with Gray. Training with Vigtyr should help too, you always come back more focused. Throw yourself into it, until the Suthern capital has fallen and King Osbert lies at your feet.”

  Now he was recovering, he felt disturbed by his loss of control. He had bent every nerve towards being the person this army needed for so long that admitting all this to Keturah, even she, was a betrayal of that. Already, his walls were reassembling. Keturah let him compose himself, one arm at his waist, observing him wryly.

  “Shall we return?”

  Roper nodded, holding his hand briefly at her cheek once more before moving back to the hearth. He did not wait for any questions from the legates. “I’ve just been to see Bellamus. I released him.”