“I saw you knocked down,” Stanlo said. “I saw you beaten and I saw you counter with pointless fury.” He grinned. “I saw you stand, enraged, intent on taking Sir Merson’s life if it came to it.”
Delcan clenched his hands into fists and stepped closer. “I defended myself,” he said.
“It is fortunate Sir Liebert reached you and saved Merson’s life.” Stanlo’s voice was calm; his mouth hardly moved as he spoke through his grin. “You are a menace to the rest of the squires and to the knights. And Malden agrees.”
“Malden? Why are you doing this?” Delcan raised his voice, his hands suddenly animated as he found his frustration impossible to manage. “What have you to gain?”
“Gain?” Stanlo shook his head and frowned. “I have nothing to gain. We are meant to be brothers, you and I. We are meant to carry each other. I only wish to help you see the harm you are doing to Sandrion and I by not taking hold of your mad hostility.”
“Delcan,” Aria called out as she rushed into the stables. “Delcan, I…” She stopped as she found the squires standing eye to eye. Both turned to look at her—Delcan with a look of concern and a warning in his eyes; Stanlo with a sly smile and a cheerfulness that he summoned as if igniting a spark. A sudden chill struck Delcan as Stanlo looked upon Aria. An odd sense of danger crawled through the back of his mind.
“Your Highness,” Stanlo said in a jovial voice, bowing. “It is a pleasant surprise to see you. Whatever are you doing here in the stables?” Delcan could almost taste the sour deceit in Stanlo’s voice.
Aria turned her gaze on Delcan for a moment, as if reading the look on his face. She looked at Stanlo and smiled.
“I was only out for an evening walk and thought I would visit Tolsien, my horse,” she explained. “Thought I heard Delcan’s voice here.”
“Well, you did,” Stanlo said approaching her. “Delcan and I were just discussing an incident during this afternoon’s training. One that landed him working in the stables.” Stanlo’s smile widened.
“Oh?” Aria looked at Stanlo questioningly although she had likely heard the details already.
“You see, our friend, Delcan, here,” Stanlo glanced at Delcan and winked, “lost his temper while sparring with a knight and nearly killed him”
Aria turned to Delcan. He gazed back at her unblinking. “Is that so?” she whispered. Delcan did not respond.
“Yes,” Stanlo said, now standing beside her, his arms crossed, rocking on the heels of his boots. “It seems he is unable to control his urge to win at all cost.”
Stanlo turned his back on Delcan and took hold of Aria’s arm. “Come. Let me walk you back to the Royal Quarters,” he whispered to her. “I believe it would be unsafe for you to be left here with him.”
As Stanlo led her out of the stables she glanced at Delcan. He stood there, his hands clenched into fists, watching them. He nodded to her and sighed.
Sandrion walked into the stables a few minutes after Stanlo and Aria had left.
“Making progress?” Sandrion asked.
“Slowly. The stable master retired for the evening and left a long list of chores for me to complete.”
Sandrion reached into the tool shed, pulled out a broom and began to sweep alongside his friend.
“Stanlo was just here,” Delcan said. “He came to sulk in my punishment, and to scold me for having lost my temper with Merson.”
“What happened out there?” Sandrion asked.
Delcan shook his head not wanting to respond. He felt as if all of the world around him would consider him to be lying and had no energy remaining to explain himself once again. He sighed and said, “Merson claims I planned to harm Aria—to use her as a means to obtain knighthood; that my plan had been discovered and he would protect her at all cost.”
“What does that mean?”
“He swore he would see to it that I die a young squire.”
Sandrion shook his head in disbelief. “I do not understand it.”
“Neither do I,” said Delcan. “But I believe Stanlo is behind the matter in some way; perhaps, even responsible for it.”
“Stanlo? Why?”
Delcan shrugged. “While I was down, after Merson dealt me a paralyzing blow, I looked for you. Your back was to me but Stanlo saw me. He saw me on the ground and I asked for his help. He turned away.” Delcan fixed his eyes on Sandrion’s. “He turned away. He had seen Merson kick me. And yet, he smiled and turned away.”
“I had not suspected him to be against us,” said Sandrion. Delcan smiled to himself at having heard Sandrion include himself in the conflict. “I had thought him to be honorable. Arrogant, vexing, but mostly decent.”
Delcan nodded. “Aria came here as well,” he added.
“I saw her in the yard earlier and told her what had happened. She seemed concerned. I told her you would be here.”
“She came while Stanlo and I were arguing. Stanlo shared with her his version of the events and advised she not be left alone with me.”
“She knows better than to believe him.”
“I know.”
As they finished sweeping the stables, Sandrion asked, “What do you suppose Stanlo gains from all this?”
“I’m not sure. I do have the strong sense that whatever it may be involves Aria. The way he reacted to her presence… he smiled as if putting on his finest silk clothing for a visitor he wants to impress.”
Delcan blew out the candles that illuminated the stables and stepped out into the passing night.
“I must see her, talk to her,” Delcan whispered. “Tonight.”
“That may not be the wisest thing for you to do.”
“I have to determine Stanlo’s role in all this and if my instincts prove correct, I must warn her.” He stood quietly for a moment then said, “I must tell her...”
Sandrion looked at his friend and smiled. “There is no way to reach the tower but through the Royal Quarters, inside the keep.”
“I will find a way.
“We will,” said Sandrion. “Perhaps we can even use Stanlo’s help.” Sandrion winked and Delcan smiled.
Stanlo was outside the gatehouse drinking with Sir Liebert, Sir Merson, and a few guards who were off duty. Sandrion joined them and Stanlo’s mood visibly changed.
Sandrion stood among them with his hands behind his back. After a moment of awkward silence, he said, “I cannot believe Delcan’s actions today.” He looked at Merson solemnly, apologetically. “I have known him for years and he has always been a hard-headed competitor; but today… today he lost all his wits.”
Stanlo nodded, visibly surprised and at the same time suspicious of Sandrion’s words.
Sandrion drew some wine from the jug resting against the wall and sat with them, shaking his head. “I had never seen him act in such manner,” he continued. “So full of anger and vicious. I cannot think of what may have pushed him so far. It may be the pressure of the training is crushing him.”
“You know him well,” Sir Liebert said. “What do you recommend should be done with him?”
Stanlo glanced at the knight then continued to gaze at his own boots.
“I suppose—and it pains me to say it—he could be removed from the squire hood.” Sandrion was visibly upset; his shoulders were slumped forward and his eyes were near tears. “I beg of you not to reveal these feelings to him, but perhaps he should return to his father’s farm and tend to his aging mother.”
“He has great skill,” one of the guards said.
“He does,” Sandrion agreed. “The best archer I have ever encountered.” He shook his head and sighed. “But he lacks discipline; he always has.”
Silence swept over the group again and in its wake the guards excused themselves, bidding Sandrion a restful evening. Sir Liebert and Sir Merson also retired for the night, leaving Stanlo and Sandrion alone.
“Do you truly feel that way about Delcan?” Stanlo asked. “He is a brother to you, is he not?”
“That he is,�
�� Sandrion responded with regret in his tone of voice. “Yet, I believe he may be drowning. I fear he will not survive the training. If he reacts again in the same manner he did today, it will result in death—likely his own.”
Stanlo agreed with a nod. “You should talk to him,” he said. “Ask him to leave.”
“He would not do it, not ever. His pride will get in the way.”
“Perhaps we can persuade him. Make him overlook his pride.”
“How?” Sandrion asked interested.
“There are many rewards to be gained.”
“Rewards?”
“From Malden; from the King.” Stanlo looked at Sandrion intently, holding on to his gaze. “If you are able to help Delcan realize he does not belong here, the King himself would greatly appreciate it. Knighthood would be certain.”
“Is that so?”
“It is,” Stanlo whispered, edging closer to Sandrion. “Perhaps not only will you earn a suit of armor, the King may grant your greatest wish.”
“Greatest wish,” Sandrion breathed. He rubbed the underside of his chin then grinned. “I must think long and hard about what that may be.” Sandrion smiled at Stanlo conspiratorially and asked, “And what is your greatest wish, Stanlo?” Stanlo’s eyes glowed.
“Mine,” he said, “is the princess,” and winked.
Chapter Twenty-one
Sandrion ran into the servants’ quarters where Delcan waited.
“Well?” Delcan asked as he opened the door to his chamber.
“Our friend, Stanlo, truly enjoys drinking wine,” said Sandrion as he stepped into the room. “And as it happens, it loosens his tongue.”
Delcan watched Sandrion settle into a chair at a small table set in the corner of the windowless room and waited. When Sandrion’s eyes made contact with his, Delcan raised his arms. “Well?” he nearly shouted.
Sandrion sighed. “He wants to marry her.”
“He what?”
“Stanlo wants to marry Aria. Apparently that is his involvement in all this.”
“Are you serious? Is he in love with her?”
Sandrion shrugged. “I doubt he knows himself. It is a matter of convenience for him; a means to the end where he will find himself knighted.”
Delcan sat at the chair opposite to Sandrion’s and stared at his hands.
“Some way, Stanlo discovered that your father lives.” Delcan raised his head and locked eyes with Sandrion. “And that he had once been a knight.” Delcan stood.
“How does he know this?”
“I do not know; he would not say. He…”
“The King,” Delcan interrupted. “The King knows as well now.”
Sandrion nodded.
Delcan paced as Sandrion spoke, telling Delcan about his conversation with Stanlo.
“Stanlo has made a pact with the King himself. A means through which he plans to gain all he has ever wished. Along with it, he wants to marry Aria, and the King has agreed. I did not get from him what this pact entailed.
“When?” Delcan asked.
“Stanlo speaks as if the wedding will take place in a week’s time.”
“And Aria? She is aware of this? Has accepted this?”
“She doesn’t yet know.”
Delcan stopped pacing and looked at Sandrion.
“I spoke to him of your lack of discipline, my concern for you, as we planned. He said if I convinced you to leave Castilmont I would have much to gain. That I would be rewarded as he is. Be knighted.”
Pain swept over Delcan’s eyes, then anger. Sandrion stood and placed a hand on Delcan’s shoulder.
“So… what are we to do now?”
“You need not remain involved in this,” Delcan said. “You will lose your chance to be knighted.”
“My feeling is the King wants to be rid of all squires but he favors Stanlo,” said Sandrion. “He may even grant him his wishes. But you and I… we do not have a chance. I believe we never had. He distrusts you, and he wants you out. Me—I am no threat, and of no value.”
Sandrion now placed both hands on Delcan’s shoulders and shook him slightly. “Since you were twelve years of age you have had the foolish notion of becoming a knight. Your hope to do something grand and leave the quietude of Berest for the adventure of life in a castle is what moved me to join you and compete in the tournament. I suddenly wanted to aim for something more than farm work. I would be still the greatest archer in Paraysia, which is of no doubt, but without your friendship, I would not have the courage to pursue anything more than what passed in front of my mother’s homestead. I would not be here, cleaning after horses and carrying a knight’s incredibly heavy armor around the castle grounds. And I would not be here to help you rescue a princess.”
Delcan returned Sandrion’s wide smile and the two embraced.
“Now,” Sandrion said, “you have a princess to warn.” Delcan nodded. “I will talk with the guard at the keep and get you into the Royal Quarters. He was quite a jovial man earlier and I am sure he can use a rest. I will stay on duty for one hour; that is the longest a squire can serve a post alone. If I am not at the entrance to the keep when you return, I’ll be here. Aria’s chamber is at the top of the tower; it is the only one.”
“How certain are you?”
“Stanlo.”
“How does he…?”
Sandrion shrugged and tucked his shirt into his trousers. “The guard—Jastin, I think—should give you no grief upon leaving the quarters if I am not there. If he asks your reason for being there, tell him you were with Malden. He may not question you further. There are sure to be other guards throughout the Royal Quarters so you must be careful once inside.”
“Thank you, Sandrion.”
Sandrion bowed to Delcan and headed for the door.
“Be careful,” Delcan called out to him.
“Always am,” said Sandrion before stepping out into the night.
During moonlight hours a guard stood in front of the castle keep beside the door leading to the Royal Quarters. No one other than members of the royal family, which only included Aria and the King himself, and any nobility who is a guest were allowed entry past suppertime. During daylight hours, no guards stood outside the building but several patrolled the wide hallways inside.
Jastin, the guard with whom Sandrion had shared wine earlier in the night, was not on duty as Sandrion had expected. He did not know the guard who stood on duty instead—a fact which would serve as a benefit in carrying out his and Delcan’s plan; it would also be the catalyst to its falling apart.
As Sandrion approached the castle keep in his usual, confident manner, Delcan watched from behind the barracks, hidden in shadow. Sandrion’s hands swung slightly with each step. He was grinning.
The guard nodded at Sandrion and stepped forward into a wide stance, one hand on his short sword. In his other hand he held a crossbow. “What are your intentions, young man?” he asked.
“I am Sir Grainer’s squire,” Sandrion said. “I am here on Malden’s orders to serve on guard duty tonight.”
The guard lowered his hands. “Odd. I wasn’t notified.”
“I had not been given prior notice, either.” Sandrion walked closer to the guard who eyed him from head to toe.
The guard stroked the hilt of his sword. “I have served as a guard a long time,” he said, “and I have never served with a squire. We normally prepare in advance for something like this.”
Sandrion waited, watching as the guard ran through his thoughts to determine how he ought to react. After a moment the guard said, “It has been a long time since we have had worthy squires and from what I have heard the three of you are well qualified.” He shrugged and passed the crossbow to Sandrion. “Come and take your post.”
Sandrion stood at the opposite side of the door. “It is quite warm tonight,” Sandrion said after a few minutes of silence.
“It is.”
“How long have you stood guard tonight?”
The guard tu
rned to Sandrion and crossed his arms. “You are certainly talkative.”
Sandrion chuckled and rested his back against the wall. “Excuse my intrusion. I only ask because a group of soldiers are taking time to share some ale beside the stables tonight and being such a warm night I thought I would offer to guard this post while you took a few minutes to refresh yourself.”
The guard’s eyes never left Sandrion’s. From where he crouched, Delcan could see how the guard negotiated the options and thought he would never agree to the offer.
After a long moment the guard said, “A squire is only to be alone on guard duty for one hour. No more than that.” He glanced around the courtyard then smiled. “But that is sufficient time for me to have a few swallows of ale.”
Sandrion agreed with a nod. “I will not share this with anyone.”
“No one enters,” he said. “All members of the house and guests have retired for the night. I’ll return in an hour’s time.”
“Yes, sir,” Sandrion responded, taking a solid stance in front of the door, holding the crossbow in his arms.
When the guard was out of sight, Sandrion waved to Delcan who stood in the shadows, his back pressed against the stones of the tower.
“One hour,” Sandrion said as he opened the door for Delcan. Beads of sweat had gathered on his forehead.
“I’ll return much sooner than that.”
Sandrion closed the door behind Delcan and returned to his post.
Once inside, Delcan stood motionless in the grand hall entrance, surveying the large room. Candlelight flickered from wall sconces set at eye-level throughout the foyer. The room was longer that it was wide; from the tall, cathedral-sized ceiling hung four large chandeliers on which melting candles looked down upon Delcan. The walls were made of massive stones. With no windows anywhere Delcan had a feeling that the pressing gloom in which he stood was the same both day and night.
The foyer ended in a large wall that reached uninterrupted to the ceiling. Hanging at the center of it a life-sized portrait of King Orsak dressed in the ceremonial garb of reds and gold watched over the space. The framed image gave the impression that the King himself stood suspended upon that wall, scrutinizing all who entered his home.
Dragon Fire Page 17
