The Marus Manuscripts

by Paul McCusker

  “How’s your stomach?” Colonel Oliver asked Kyle after a few minutes.

  “I feel sick,” Kyle said.

  “So he’s still in danger?”

  “I guess so. But I can’t be his guardian angel if he’s going to do stuff like this.”

  Colonel Oliver nodded. “Agreed,” he said. “He sometimes makes it difficult for all of us.” The colonel paused, but it was clear he still had something on his mind. Finally he looked at Kyle and said, “When I first met you, I spoke harshly to you. I didn’t trust you and suspected you were out to hurt General Darien. I was wrong, of course, and I want to apologize to you for thinking the worst.” He reached out his hand, and Kyle shook it. “No hard feelings?”

  “No hard feelings,” Kyle said.

  “Thank you.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Colonel Oliver was aggressively pacing their compartment, stopping only to peer out the window to see if Darien was coming back. Kyle squirmed in his seat, chewing fingernails that were already chewed to the nub, and Anna prayed that the Unseen One would be merciful even though Darien didn’t deserve it.

  Five minutes later, all three of them were pacing circles with Colonel Oliver. The steward announced that they would be arriving in Hailsham station in a minute.

  “Do you think he jumped off the train?” Kyle asked.

  “I have no idea,” Colonel Oliver said, “but I could kill him myself for doing something like this.”

  The train began to slow as it approached Hailsham. Anna stood at the window and thought sadly about the Old Judge. She had hoped to see him again. Now she never would. Colonel Oliver and Kyle joined her at the window. Darien was still nowhere to be seen.

  Just as the train came to a stop at the platform, the inside door of the compartment opened behind them. Darien stepped in from the hallway with a wry smile on his face. He was dressed in a steward’s uniform and cap.

  “I could make a living doing this,” he said as he tossed the cap onto the sofa and began to unbutton the steward’s vest. “The pay’s rotten, but the tips are pretty good.”

  “Well, what happened?” they all demanded.

  Darien put on a disappointed expression. “Sadly, the king was sleeping,” he answered. “He didn’t even wake up when I slipped into his compartment. I nearly tucked him in and kissed him on the forehead, he looked so sweet and innocent.”

  Colonel Oliver groaned.

  Darien’s expression changed to one of disapproval. “It’s a terrible comment about the king’s security when a man like me can get in to him like that. I should write to someone about it.”

  “I’m sure General Liddell would love to hear from you,” Anna giggled.

  “And so he shall! Imagine leaving the king to ride on a train with only a few guards around him. Just because he’s battling the Palatians doesn’t give him the excuse to—”

  “So how did you get back?” Colonel Oliver interrupted.

  “Easy. A steward knocked on the door and came in. The king told him to go away and rolled over. I quietly gave the steward a wad of money for his coat and hat and 10 minutes of silence. He accepted the offer. I came out and walked back here without any questions or problems.” He glanced at his watch. “Though the 10 minutes are almost up, and that steward is going to have to explain why he’s been sitting in the king’s toilet while on duty.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Colonel Oliver said and headed for the door.

  “Good idea.” Darien didn’t move but fished in his pocket and pulled out a large gold medallion on a red ribbon. “Do you think the king will miss this? I took it as a memento of my visit.”

  Colonel Oliver went bug-eyed. “The king’s medallion?” he said. “You stole the king’s medallion?”

  “It looked so pretty sitting there. How could I resist?”

  “The king’s medallion?” Kyle asked. “Is it important?”

  “Oh, not at all,” Colonel Oliver said sarcastically. “It’s only the medallion the king is given at his coronation.”

  “He shouldn’t have taken it off and left it lying around.”

  “I don’t want to hear about it,” Colonel Oliver said.

  “I’ll give it back to him one day.”

  Colonel Oliver waved him away. “Don’t say another word.”

  When the crowd was at its peak on the platform, the four of them got off the train and seemed to disappear among the people. As they walked past the window of the king’s carriage, they saw two stern-looking guards interrogating a steward.

  Anna had never been to a funeral before, at least not that she could recall. She’d gone to her grandfather’s funeral as a baby, but she had no memory of it. This was the first time someone had died that Anna knew and, in her own way, loved.

  The service for the Old Judge was held in an old church in Hailsham. The stone building was beautiful with its tower, pillars lining the inside, stained-glass windows, and smooth wooden pews. It reminded Anna of a miniature cathedral. She sat with Kyle, Darien, and Colonel Oliver in the back, among a crowd of local people. Dignitaries like the king and his guards sat in the front pew. The coffin was also in the front, by the altar, as a simple tribute to the man inside.

  “But he isn’t inside,” the priest said in his eulogy. “This shallow encasement, this empty vessel, is not the man we loved and who loved us. He is somewhere else. The Old Judge is with the Unseen One, in the paradise created for all those who believe in Him.”

  Anna squeezed her eyes closed, not to ward off any tears but in the strong desire to “see” the Old Judge. She wanted a vision of him now, in that paradise. “Just let me see a little bit of it,” Anna prayed. But nothing came except black and orange circles as her eyes readjusted to the light.

  The service was over in 20 minutes. A line of mourners formed to pray beside the coffin or to touch it, but the top was closed and there was no final look at the man who’d been the Unseen One’s voice for so many years.

  “I want to see his cottage one more time,” Anna pleaded. “Please.”

  Darien saw no reason not to go, so the four of them sneaked out the back door of the church and stayed off the beaten path to get there. If they had gone on the main road, they would have seen the large touring car waiting there, not far from the cottage. As it was, they walked up along the rear side, past the vegetable garden, and slipped in the small door that led into the kitchen. They crept in—and then stopped suddenly. The king stood alone in the middle of the living room.

  Darien felt quickly for the pistol tucked into his trousers. Colonel Oliver put his hand on the hilt of his dagger. Anna and Kyle hung back a few steps, just in case something happened. Strangely, though, Kyle did not feel anything resembling a sense of danger.

  The king didn’t react to their arrival. He merely looked at them with red-rimmed eyes sunk into a deeply lined face. He looked so much older than the last time they’d seen him. He coughed wearily and said, “I thought I saw you in the back of the church.”

  “You did, Your Highness,” Darien replied. “We didn’t want to miss our last good-byes to the Old Judge.”

  The king waved his hand toward the room and continued, “I can’t believe he’s gone. It doesn’t seem possible.”

  “I know what you mean, sire.”

  “It’s all gone, isn’t it? The days pass so quickly, and then . . .” He didn’t finish the thought but looked at them, anguished.

  They waited.

  He sighed deeply. “And then come the days when you no longer know your friends from your enemies.”

  Darien stepped forward and said softly, “You have no enemies here, my king.”

  “Don’t I?”

  “No, sire.” Darien was only a foot or two away from the king. “Listen no longer to those who whisper evil in your ear. Ignore the voices who say that I mean to do you harm. They are liars. You have been like a father to me. Would I turn my hand against you?”

  “Others have.”

  “But I have not.”
Darien pulled the king’s medallion from his pocket and held it up. The gold seemed to glow artificially in the shadow of the cottage.

  The king instinctively put a hand to his chest, as if feeling to be sure the medallion wasn’t there. “My medallion!” he exclaimed.

  “It was within my power to take your life, just as I took this medallion,” Darien said. “But I didn’t. You are the chosen one, and I would be in defiance of the Unseen One to raise my hand against you.” He handed the medallion to the king. The king took it with shaking hands. Darien continued, “I have done you no wrong, my king. Nor will I. May the Unseen One vindicate me in your eyes.”

  The king lowered his head. Then his shoulders began to shake as he started to weep, his whole body joining in. He grabbed Darien and cried out, “Darien, my son! What is this madness that afflicts me? How could I ever believe that you would hurt me?”

  Darien held the king close. They both wept for several minutes.

  The guards who’d been waiting by the touring car came to the door and knocked. “Sire? Are you all right?” they asked. “We must return to Sarum now. General Liddell will be calling.”

  “Yes, yes,” the king said impatiently. He gazed into Darien’s face, touched the side of it softly, and told him, “The Old Judge was right. There is no doubt that you will be king. I pray only that you’ll find it in your heart to have more mercy on me and my family than I did on you and yours. Good-bye, my son.”

  With that, the king turned away and left. He yelled at the guards as they walked to the car, as if they’d done something terribly wrong. “Just take me back to the station!” he concluded.

  Darien slumped into a chair—the Old Judge’s favorite—next to the cold fireplace. A chill swept through the room, and Anna thought then that the cottage would never be warm again.

  The four of them spent the night at an inn halfway between Hailsham and Sarum, and then they caught the first train back to Krawley the next morning. Anna and Kyle spent most of the trip in silence, watching the rolling fields and thick forests wash past like gentle waves of green. Apart from the sadness of losing the Old Judge, the question that dominated their thinking was this: How are we going to get home? If the Old Judge was the only one who knew, they were now stuck.

  Darien and Colonel Oliver spent the trip discussing plans for their future. “You don’t believe King Lawrence will simply sit back and allow you to become the new king, do you?” Colonel Oliver asked.

  “No,” Darien said with a sigh. “His grief and remorse at the cottage were genuine enough, but once he returns to the splendor of his palace and the great power and the servants waiting on him hand and foot, he’ll change his mind. He likes being the king and wants to keep it that way.”

  “So where do we go from here?”

  Darien rubbed his hand over his beard. “I think we should keep on as we have.”

  Colonel Oliver wasn’t satisfied. “But we’ve grown so much,” he pointed out. “We have over 500 people in our group now. And the men are getting restless. It’s driving them crazy sitting in the Territory of Peace while every fighting man is at war with the Palatians.”

  “What do they want to do?”

  “Fight the Palatians, of course.”

  “I wish we could,” Darien said ruefully. “But for us to openly join the war would invite the king to murder us on the battlefield and then blame the Palatians. No, it’s too risky.”

  “There must be something we can do!” Colonel Oliver growled, frustrated.

  Darien leaned toward the colonel. “There is,” he affirmed. “We must pray. Then maybe an answer will present itself.”

  When they stepped onto the platform at the station in Krawley, Colonel Henri, one of Darien’s officers, greeted them. “Welcome back,” he said, then led them aside, close to the stationmaster’s office. “A baron from Adria has come to meet with you. He and his servants waited for you all day yesterday. He said they wouldn’t leave until they had a chance to talk to you.”

  “Where are they now?” Darien asked.

  “The Lion’s Head Pub in the center of town,” Colonel Henri answered.

  “Are they safe?” Colonel Oliver asked. “I wouldn’t put it past our king to hire Adrians to kill us.”

  Colonel Henri nodded. “We searched them thoroughly. They’re unarmed except for weapons they keep on their horses for when they travel. They won’t be near their horses when they meet you.”

  “Then I suppose I should talk to them,” said Darien.

  “What about the kids?” Colonel Henri asked. “Do you want me to take them back to our camp?”

  Darien didn’t need to think about it. “Of course not,” he replied. “I wouldn’t dare meet the baron without my prophet and my guardian angel.”

  They walked straight to the Lion’s Head Pub and went inside. Like most pubs, it was decorated in dark paneling, dark furniture, and dark paintings. Even the light through the windows seemed dark. The baron, who couldn’t have been missed in any circumstance, was a big, ostentatious man dressed in a large cloak laced with orange fur. He had a thick, heavy brow that kept his eyes in constant shadow and round, wobbly jowls that shook when he laughed. His mannerisms, even before he spoke, included flamboyant gestures with his hands and an affected accent that no nation would want as its own. Most noticeable was his size. He stood up to receive them, and Anna guessed he was at least six-foot-five. His two guards, who were also tall, looked like dwarves next to their boss.

  “I wonder why he even needs guards,” Kyle said softly to Anna as they crossed the room.

  “Thank you for meeting with me. I am Baron Orkzy,” the man said in a thunderous voice.

  “I knew who you were instantly,” Darien said. “Your reputation is known by everyone.”

  “You’re too kind.”

  Kyle noticed that Darien didn’t say exactly what sort of reputation the baron had.

  Darien introduced everyone. The baron shook hands, his bearlike paw swallowing each of theirs, then invited them to sit down at the table with him.

  “We need to discuss a matter of business,” the baron said once they were comfortable. “As you know, I’m a man with many friends and many enemies. My wealth intimidates some, and my work in—shall we say, negotiations—with certain parties annoys others.”

  “In other words, there are people who hate you because you’ll do anything for money,” Darien said flatly.

  The baron laughed, and his jowls shook. “Yes! Yes! Precisely! Straight to the point. Score one for you, General.”

  “What can I do for you?” Darien asked.

  “I want to hire you.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  The baron rested his elbows on the table. It tilted beneath the weight. He feigned a great weariness and said, “The war between your country and the Palatians is a nasty affair. Frankly, I don’t feel safe anymore. Because of my past dealings with the Palatians, I’m afraid your people—or your allies—may attack me. Because of my past dealings with the Marutians, I’m afraid the Palatians and their allies will attack.”

  “Why come to me? Adrians are known for their love of war. It seems like there are plenty of tribes around to protect you.”

  “And that is where you’ve hit the nail directly on the head. My country has been torn apart by petty differences for years. Few of the leaders will stop bickering long enough to see the bigger picture. They’re barbarians, mostly. I don’t trust a single one of them.” He placed his hand against his forehead melodramatically. “Alas, I am a man without a country. Much like you, I dare say.”

  “I understand,” replied Darien dryly.

  “I want to hire you and your entourage to be my bodyguards. I want you to help me to protect my interests. You’ll be my own personal army, as such. In exchange, you’ll be well looked after. Your people will even have better accommodations than you have here. Imagine living in houses rather than tents on a hillside. Gas, electricity, plumbing, proper sewage . . .” The baro
n lifted an eyebrow coaxingly.

  Darien’s tone and expression betrayed no answer one way or the other. He said simply, “I’ll have to give it some thought, Baron.”

  “Yes, yes. Consult with your officers.”

  “Can we meet again tomorrow morning?”

  “I’d be delighted,” the baron said with a flourish of his hand. He pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve and dabbed the side of his nose. He waved the handkerchief at them as they stood up and left. “Until tomorrow!”

  As they walked out of the pub, Darien said to Colonel Oliver, “Check the grapevine and find out what he’s really up to.”

  “Yes, sir,” the colonel replied.

  “Don’t you trust him?” Kyle asked.

  “Baron Orkzy is a mercenary who’ll greet you with one hand and stab you in the back with the other,” Darien said.

  “Then why are you going to meet with him again?” asked Anna.

  “Because it’s possible that we can suit our own purposes while trying to suit his.”

  That evening at the camp, Anna and Kyle were summoned to Darien’s tent. Just as they arrived, Colonel Oliver brought in a man who looked surprisingly like a rat. He had a pointed nose, small teeth, and whiskers that spread out from his face like fur. He even held his hands in front of him like a rat when it’s on its hind legs, looking for food. And he was called, appropriately enough, the Rat.

  “Sit down,” Darien said.

  “I’d rather stand, if you don’t mind,” the Rat replied. “I get fidgety sitting down.”

  “The Rat has some useful information for us,” Colonel Oliver explained.

  Darien smiled graciously. “We’ve paid well for it, I assume?”

  The Rat’s head jerked up and down quickly. “Oh yes,” he said. “The general always pays well. I hope to honor you with my information in return.”

  “Then tell us what you know.”

  “I have it from reliable sources that the baron’s offer to you is a good one,” the Rat began, his nose twitching. “He can and will provide you with an entire town in which to live. It’s called Lizah, just inside the Adrian border. What he wants from you in return is to see that he is kept safe and that some of his ‘product’ gets safely to market.”