by Robin Hobb
And what was I to say to that? I reached for the truth, knowing it wouldn't satisfy her. "You would be that important to me. You are that important to me. But it's also why I have to stay here. Because something that important isn't something you run away and hide with. It's something that you stand and defend."
"Defend?" Her voice went up a notch. "When will you learn we aren't strong enough to defend ourselves? I know. I've stood between Raiders and children of my own blood, and just barely survived. When you've done that, talk to me about defending! "
I was silent. Not just that her words cut me. They did, and deeply. But she brought back to me a memory of holding a child, studying the blood that had trickled down her cooling. arm. I couldn't abide the thought of ever doing it again. But it could not be fled. "There is no running away, Molly. We either stand and fight here, or are slaughtered when the fighting overtakes us."
"Really?" she asked me coldly. "It isn't just your putting your loyalty to a King ahead of what we have?" I could not meet her eyes. She snorted. "You're just like Burrich. You don't even know how much you're like him!"
"Like Burrich?" I was left floundering. I was startled that she said it at all, let alone that she said it as if it were a fault.
"Yes." She was decisive.
"Because I am true to my king?" I was still grasping at straws.
"No! Because you put your king before your woman… or your love, or your own life."
"I don't know what you're talking about!"
"There! You see! You really don't. And you go about, acting like you know all these great things and secrets and every important thing that ever happened. So answer me this. Why does Patience hate Burrich?"
I was completely at a loss now. I had no idea how this figured into what was wrong with me. But I knew somehow Molly would make a connection. Gingerly I tried: "She blames him for me. She thinks Burrich led Chivalry into bad ways… and hence into conceiving me."
"There. You see. That's how stupid you are. It's nothing of the kind. Lacey told me one night. A bit too much elderberry wine, and I was talking of you and she of Burrich and Patience. Patience loved Burrich first, you idiot. But he wouldn't have her. He said he loved her, but he couldn't marry her, even if her father would give consent for her to wed beneath her station. Because he was already sworn, life and sword, to a lord of his own. And he didn't think he could do justice to both of them. Oh, he said he wished he were free to marry her, and that he wished he hadn't sworn before he'd met her. But all the same, he said he wasn't free to marry her just then. He said something stupid to her, about no matter how willing the horse, it can only wear one saddle. So she told him, well, go off, then, go follow this lord who's more important to you than I am. And he did. Just as you would, if I told you that you had to choose." There were two spots of high color on her cheeks. She tossed her head as she turned her back on me.
So there was the connection to my fault. But my mind was reeling as bits and pieces of stories and comments suddenly fell into place. Burrich's tale of first meeting Patience. She'd been sitting in an apple tree, and she'd demanded that he take a splinter out of her foot. Scarcely something a woman would ask of her lord's man. But something a direct young maid might ask of a young man who had caught her eye. And his reaction the night I had spoken to him about Molly and Patience, and repeated Patience's words about horses and saddles.
"Did Chivalry know anything of all this?" I asked.
Molly spun about to consider me. It was obviously not the question she had expected me to ask. But she couldn't resist finishing the story either. "No. Not at first. When Patience first came to know him, she had no idea he was Burrich's master. Burrich had never told her what lord he was sworn to. At first Patience would have nothing to do with Chivalry. Burrich still held her heart, you see. But Chivalry was stubborn. From what Lacey says, he loved her to distraction. He won her heart. It wasn't until after she had said yes, she'd marry him, that she found out he was Burrich's master. And only because Chivalry sent Burrich to deliver a special horse to her."
I suddenly remembered Burrich in the stable, looking at Patience's mount and saying, "I trained that horse." I wondered if he'd trained Silk, knowing she was to go to a woman he'd loved, as a gift from the man she'd marry. I'd bet it was so. I had always thought that Patience's disdain for Burrich was a sort of jealousy that Chivalry could care so much for him. Now the triangle was an even stranger one. And infinitely more painful. I closed my eyes and shook my head at the unfairness of the world. "Nothing is ever simple and good," I said to myself. "There is always a bitter peel, a sour pip somewhere."
"Yes." Molly's anger seemed suddenly spent. She sat down on the bedside, and when I went and sat beside her, she didn't push me away. I took her hand and held it. A thousand thoughts cluttered my mind. How Patience hated Burrich's drinking. How Burrich had recalled her lapdog, and how she always carried it about in a basket. The care he always took with his own appearance and behavior. "Just because you cannot see a woman does not mean she does not see you." Oh, Burrich. The extra time he still took, grooming a horse that she seldom rode anymore. At least Patience had had a marriage to a man she loved, and some years of happiness, complicated as they were by political intrigues. But some years of happiness, anyway. What would Molly and I ever have? Only what Burrich had now?
She leaned against me and I held her for a long time. That was all. But somehow in that melancholy holding that night, we were closer than we had been for a very long time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE. Dark Days
KING EYOD OF the Mountains held the Mountain throne during the years of the Red-Ships. The death of his elder son, Rurisk, had left his daughter, Kettricken, sole heir to the Mountain throne. By their customs, she would become queen of the Mountains, or "Sacrifice", as that people call it, upon the demise of her father. Thus her marriage to Verity ensured not only that we had an ally at our back during those unstable years, but also promised the eventual joining of a "seventh duchy" to the Kingdom of the Six Duchies. That the Mountain Kingdom bordered only on the two Inland Duchies of Tilth and Farrow made the prospect of any civil sundering of the Six Duchies of especial concern to Kettricken. She had been raised to be "Sacrifice. Her duty to her folk was of supreme importance in her life. When she became Verity's queen-in-waiting, the Six Duchies folk became her own. But it could never have been far from her heart that on her father's death, her Mountain folk would once more claim her as "Sacrifice" as well. How could she fulfill that obligation if Farrow and Tilth stood between her and her folk, not as part of the Six Duchies, but as a hostile nation?
A thick storm set in the next day. It was a mixed blessing. No one need fear Raiders anywhere along the coast on a day like that, but it also kept a restless and disparate group of soldiers penned up together. Up in the Keep itself, Bearns was as visible as Regal was not. Whenever I ventured into the Great Hall, Duke Brawndy was there, pacing restlessly or staring coldly into one of the blazing hearths. His daughters flanked him like guardian snowcats. Celerity and Faith were young yet, and their impatience and anger showed more plainly on their faces. Brawndy had requested an official audience with the King. The longer he was kept waiting, the greater the implied insult. It denied the importance of what had brought him here. And the Duke's continued presence in our Great Hall was a plain announcement to his followers that, as yet, the King had not consented to see him. I watched that kettle coming to a slow boil and wondered who would be scalded worst when it spilled over.
I was making my fourth cautious survey of the room when Kettricken appeared. She was dressed simply, a long straight robe of purple with an overwrap of soft white with voluminous sleeves that overhung her hands. Her hair was long and loose on her shoulders. She came in with her usual lack of ceremony, preceded only by Rosemary, her little maid, and accompanied only by Lady Modesty and Lady Hopeful. Even now that she had become a bit more popular with the ladies, she did not forget that these two had followed her first, when she was alone
, and she often honored them by making them her companions. I do not believe Duke Brawndy recognized his queen-in-waiting as the simply clad woman who approached him directly.
She smiled and took his hand in greeting. It was a simple Mountain way of recognizing one's friends. I doubt she realized how she honored him, or how much that simple gesture did to assuage his hours of waiting. Only I saw the weariness in her face, I am sure, or the new circles under her eyes. Faith and Celerity were immediately charmed by this attention to their father. Kettricken's clear voice carried throughout the Great Hall, so those at any hearth who wished to hear undoubtedly did. As she had intended.
"I have called on our king twice this morning. I regret that he has been… ill both times. I hope you have not found this waiting fretful. I know you will want to speak directly to the King about your tragedy and all that must be done to help our folk. But, for now, while he rests, I thought perhaps you might wish to join me for some refreshment."
"That would be welcome, lady queen," Bearns replied cautiously. Already she had done much to soothe his rumpled feathers. But Brawndy was not one to be too easily charmed.
"I am pleased," Kettricken replied. She turned and stooped slightly to whisper to Rosemary. The little maid gave a quick nod and turned and fled like a rabbit. All marked her exit. In but moments she was back, this time at the head of a procession of serving folk. A table was claimed and moved down before the Great Hearth. A snowy cloth was spread, and then one of Kettricken's bowl gardens set to grace the center of it. A parade of kitchen folk trooped past, each to deposit platters, or cups of wine or sweetmeats or late-fall apples in a wooden bowl. So wonderfully was it orchestrated that it seemed almost magical. In moments the table was set, the guests were seated, and Mellow appeared with his lute, already singing as he entered the Great Hall. Kettricken beckoned her ladies to join them, and then espying me as well, summoned me with a nod. She chose others from the other hearths at random; not by their nobility or wealth, but folk I knew she considered interesting. Fletch with his hunting stories, and Shells, a friendly girl of an age with Brawndy's daughters were among those summoned. Kettricken seated herself at Brawndy's right hand, and again I do not think she realized all the honor she did him to arrange it so.
When some bit of food and talk had been enjoyed, she signaled Mellow to soften his strumming. She turned to Brawndy and said simply, "We have heard only the bare bones of your news. Will you share with us what has befallen Ferry?"
He hesitated briefly. He had brought his complaint for the King to hear and act on. But how could he refuse a Queen-in-Waiting who had treated him so graciously? He lowered his eyes a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was husky with unfeigned emotion. "My lady queen, we have taken grievous hurt," he began. Every voice at the table was quickly stilled. All eyes turned to him. I perceived that all of those chosen by the Queen were attentive listeners as well. From the time he launched into his tale, there was not a sound at the table, save soft exclamations of sympathy or mutters of anger at what the Raiders had done. He paused once in his tale, then visibly made a decision, and went on to tell how they had sent forth their summons for aid, and waited in vain for any response. The Queen heard him out, with no objections or denials. When his tale of woe was done, his burden had visibly lifted simply in the telling of it. For a few long moments all were silent.
"Much of what you tell me is new to my ears," Kettricken said quietly at last. "And none of it is good. I do not know what our king will say of all this. You will have to wait for him to hear his words. But for myself, for now, I will say that my heart is full of grief for my people. And anger. I promise you that, for myself, these wrongs shall not go unredressed. Nor shall my folk be left shelterless in winter's bite."
Duke Brawndy of Bearns looked down at his plate and toyed with the edge of the tablecloth. He looked up, and there was fire in his eyes, but also regret. When he spoke, his voice was firm. "Words. These are but words, my lady queen. The folk of Ferry cannot eat words, nor shelter beneath them at nightfall."
Kettricken met his eyes squarely. Something seemed to tighten inside her. "Well do I know the truth of what you say. But words are all I have to offer you just now. When the King is well enough to see you, we shall see what can be done for Ferry."
Brawndy leaned toward her. "I have questions, my queen. My need for answers is almost as great as my need for money and men. Why did our summons for help go unheeded? Why did the ship that should have come to our aid instead set sail for home port?"
Kettricken's voice trembled very slightly. "To these questions, I have no answers, sir. And that is a shameful thing for me to admit. No word of your situation reached my ears until your young messenger arrived on horseback."
Strong misgivings arose in me as she spoke. Should the Queen have admitted these things to Brawndy? Perhaps not, for the sake of political wisdom. But Kettricken, I knew, served truth before politics. Brawndy looked long into her face, and the lines around his mouth deepened. Boldly, he asked, but softly, "Are not you queen-in-waiting?"
Kettricken's eyes went sword gray as she met his gaze. "I am. Do you ask me if I lie to you?"
It was Brawndy's turn to look aside. "No. No, my queen, that thought was never in my mind."
The silence stretched overlong. I do not know if there was some subtle signal from Kettricken, or if it was simply Mellow's instincts that swept his fingers more vigorously across the strings. In a moment his voice took up a winter song, full of blowing notes and skirling choruses.
More than three days passed before Brawndy was finally summoned to the King's chambers. Kettricken tried to provide amusements, but it is hard to entertain a man whose mind is on his dukedom's vulnerability. He was courteous, but distracted. Faith, his second daughter, quickly formed a friendship with Shells, and seemed to forget some of her sorrows in her company. Celerity, however, clung to her father's side, and when her dark blue eyes did meet mine, they were like wounds. I experienced a strange variety of emotions from that gaze. I was relieved that she did not seek me out as an individual to pay attention to. At the same time I knew her coolness to me was a reflection of her father's present feelings toward all of Buckkeep. I welcomed her slighting of me; at the same time it rankled, as I did not feel I deserved it. When the summons came at last, and Brawndy hastened to the King, I hoped that the awkwardness would be over.
I am sure I was not the only one who noticed that Queen Kettricken was not invited to the council. Neither was I present, being also uninvited. But it is not often that a Queen is relegated to the same social standing as a bastard nephew. Kettricken kept her equanimity, and went on showing Brawndy's daughters and Shells a Mountain technique for weaving beads into embroidery work. I hovered near the table, but doubted that their minds were on their craft any more than mine was.
We had not long to wait. In less than an hour, Duke Brawndy reappeared in the Great Hall with all the bluster and chill of a storm wind. To Faith, he said, "Pack our things." To Celerity: "Tell our guard to be ready to depart within the hour." He gave Queen Kettricken a very stiff bow. "My queen, I excuse myself to depart. As House Farseer will offer no aid, Bearns must now tend to its own."
"Indeed. I see your need for haste," Kettricken replied gravely. "But I shall require that you attend me for but one more meal. It is not good to depart on a journey on an empty stomach. Tell me. Do you enjoy gardens?" Her question was addressed to his daughters as much as to Bearns. They looked to their father. After a moment he gave a curt nod.
Both the daughters admitted cautiously to Kettricken that they enjoyed gardens. But their puzzlement was plain. A garden? In winter, during a howling storm? I shared their misgivings, especially as at that moment Kettricken gestured to me.
"FitzChivalry. Attend to my wish. Rosemary, go with Lord FitzChivalry to the kitchens. Prepare food as he directs you and bring it to the Queen's Garden. I shall escort our guests there."
I widened my eyes at Kettricken desperately. No. Not there.
The climb to the tower alone was taxing to many, let alone taking a cup of tea on a storm-lashed tower top. I could not fathom what she thought she was about. The smile she returned my anxious look was as open and serene as any I had seen. Taking Duke Brawndy's arm, she steered him out of the Great Hall, while the daughters trailed behind with the Queen's ladies. I turned to Rosemary and changed her orders.
"Go find warm wraps for them, and catch up with them. I'll take care of the food."
The child scampered merrily off while I hastened to the kitchen. I tersely informed Sara of our sudden need, and she quickly created a platter of warmed pastries and hot mulled wine for me. "Take these yourself, and I'll send more with a boy in a bit." I smiled to myself as I took the tray and hurried off toward the Queen's Gardens. The Queen herself might refer to me as Lord FitzChivalry, but Sara the cook would never think twice of ordering me off with a tray of food. It was oddly comforting.
I took the stairs as quickly as I could, then paused to breathe at the top landing. I braced myself for the rain and wind, and pushed the door open. The tower top was as miserable as I had expected it to be. The Queen's ladies and Brawndy's daughters and Shells were huddled in a bit of shelter offered by two adjoining walls and a stretch of canvas that had been set up as a shady spot last summer. It broke most of the wind, and diverted a great deal of the freezing rain as well. There was a small table within its pathetic shelter and here I set the tray of warm food. Rosemary, snugly bundled, smiled smugly as she snitched a pastry from the edge of the tray. Lady Modesty presided over serving the food.
As quickly as I could, I secured mugs of warmed wine for the Queen and Duke Brawndy and, on pretext of serving them, joined them. They were at the very edge of the parapet, looking out over the crenated wall at the open sea below. The wind had lashed it to white froth, and was flinging seagulls about with a fine disregard for the birds' attempts to fly. As I approached I could see they were speaking softly, but the roar of the wind frustrated my attempt to eavesdrop. I wished I had thought to get a cloak for myself. I was soaked through almost instantly and the wind blew off what heat my body generated by shivering. I tried to smile past my chattering teeth as I presented them with the wine.
