“Yeah, dream on, shrimp. Never going to happen.”
“Why can't Hemarchidas see it like you do,” Anaxantis complained.
“Because he thought you were friends,” Bortram replied, picking his teeth.
“We are friends,” Anaxantis said emphatically.
“Friends usually don't lie to each other.”
“But I didn't lie. I... adjusted the truth somewhat.”
Bortram burst out in laughter.
“Really, all the important stuff I told you was true. Only some details were... less true,” Anaxantis tried to convince himself.
“Yes, like the detail that you are not a rich farmer's son, barely a minor noble, but a prince of the realm. A detail, if ever there was one.”
“I meant to tell you, honestly. I was just waiting for the right moment.”
“You lied, Anack... santis, and Hemarchidas is hurt.”
“There must be something I can do to make it up to him,” Anaxantis almost cried.
“Well, in my experience saying you're sorry goes a long way to setting things right,” Bortram said soothingly. “By now he will have calmed down a bit. Why don't we go and look him up. I know where the barracks of the Cheridoni are. Tell him you were afraid he would have treated you differently if he had known who you really were. Tell him you were afraid you would never have become friends in the first place.”
“How did you know that? That's exactly what I thought.”
Bortram shrugged.
“He will never forgive me,” Anaxantis said pessimistically.
“Of course he will. He likes you too much not to.”
The calm, self-assured demeanor of Bortram gave Anaxantis some hope and they set out for the barracks of the Cheridoni.
When they neared the barracks of Hemarchidas's tribe their noses were molested by a penetrating smell.
“By the Gods, what is that awful stink?” Anaxantis gasped.
“I reckon that's patriph, you know, their national staple,” Bortram said disgusted. “Lucky for me you brought the food and not them.”
The fourth barrack they knocked on was the one where Hemarchidas and Lethoras were lodged.
“Hem, visitors for you,” the young tribesman who had opened the door yelled to someone inside.
Hemarchidas appeared in the door opening, took one look at Anaxantis and Bortram and started walking briskly down the path between the barracks without uttering a sound.
“Come on,” Bortram said, giving Anaxantis a push in the back, “after him, and make it sound good. I'll have a word with Lethoras.”
Anaxantis went after Hemarchidas. For every step the young Cheridonian took, he had to take two.
“Hemarchidas, wait, let me explain, wait...” he shouted after him, without result.
After a few minutes they were out of the encampment and Hemarchidas walked down a small path that led through the fields, with Anaxantis, almost out of breath, trying to catch up.
“Hemarchidas, damn you, slow down, I can't keep up,” he yelled nearly in tears. “You're the first friend I ever had and I don't want to lose you.”
The Cheridonian stopped in his tracks and turned around.
“O, come on, you must have dozens of friends. Noble friends. Real friends.”
“No, you don't know what it was like. I had servants, tutors, doctors... but never a friend. Never someone who liked me for who I was. Never someone like you.”
He had caught up with Hemarchidas, but was still breathing heavily.
“I wanted to tell you, honestly, I just didn't know how. I was afraid you would treat me differently.”
“So, you didn't trust me?” Hemarchidas asked coldly.
“No, that's not true. Not exactly. I knew you liked Anack, but I wasn't sure if you would like Anaxantis.”
“How can he trust, where would he have learned it?” Hemarchidas thought, while he looked at the blond boy who now was really on the verge of tears. “If only half of what they say about the royal family is true, it's no wonder that he has trust issues. He seemed to enjoy our time together, and he wouldn't have wanted to jeopardize that. Maybe he's right. Would I have treated him the same if I had known who he really was?”
“You're the first friend I ever had and I don't want to lose you,” Anaxantis repeated and now the tears flowed down his cheeks.
All resentment, all anger, all hurt that Hemarchidas had felt dissipated as he looked at the crying boy.
“O, come here, you little fool,” he said and hugged him. “You're not going to lose me. You can't lose me, even if you tried. I'll stick to you like a bad smell.”
“Like patriph?” Anaxantis smiled through his tears.
“The Gods forbid,” Hemarchidas laughed.
“You're not angry anymore?”
“No, I think I understand. A little anyway. I was only angry, and mostly hurt, just because you are my friend. If you hadn't been, I wouldn't have cared.”
When they turned around to return to the barracks, they saw Bortram and Lethoras coming in their direction at a leisurely pace.
“Friends again?” asked Bortram cheerfully.
“We never stopped being friends,” Hemarchidas replied. “Even friends have a disagreement sometimes.”
“Yeah, I can vouch for that,” Lethoras grinned at Anaxantis. “The man can be impossible sometimes. But not a bad bone in his body.”
On the way back, Anaxantis took Bortram aside and said softly:
“Thank you, Bortram.”
“For what? I didn't do anything.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Bah, just looking out for my next meal, kiddo... I mean Anaxantis. Oh boy, this is going to take some getting used to.”
“Unbelievable. The impertinence,” Ehandar fumed, waving a parchment in Anaxantis's face.
“What is it?” Anaxantis asked while he took off his mantle.
“He simply refuses to come, the insolent rogue. He has the temerity to say he hasn't got the time.”
“Calm down. Whoever are you talking about?”
“Murno Tollbir, that doctor I mentioned. I summoned him to come here to examine you, and he just won't do it. He flatly refuses to obey an order of the lord governor. He has too many patients depending upon him, he writes. He can't spare the time for a voyage to Lorseth Castle. But he graciously permits you to visit him in his practice, and he specifies, next Wednesday when he will make some time to see you. Have you ever heard of such insulting behavior? Well, I'll teach him a few basic truths. I'll have him arrested and dragged here in chains and let him rot for a week in the dungeons. Then I'll ask him if he has time to see you or if he prefers to be left alone for another month.”
“Or... I could simply go. I've wanted to visit Dermolhea for some time now. This seems the ideal excuse to do so.”
“Anaxantis, we can't let an insult like this pass without taking some action.”
“Maybe it is true what he writes. I would hate it if people would suffer or even die because he had to take a few weeks off, just to examine me for half an hour. Besides, he will have all his instruments there.”
“You're much too soft,” Ehandar grumbled.
“O, come on, don't be such a grouch. I'm sure he meant no disrespect, and my dignity will survive, you know,” Anaxantis pleaded smilingly. “I'd love to go on a trip.”
“All right then,” Ehandar caved in, “but you're taking your guard and fifty cavalry men with you. And don't you dare contradict me on this.”
“OK, I won't,” Anaxantis said meekly.
“And I'll take the guys with me. O, this is going to be fun.”
Preceded by his guard, surrounded by his friends and followed by a fifty men strong cavalry detachment, Anaxantis rode to Dermolhea. He had never felt more alive, breathing the crisp early October air, as the small column made it's way on the road that led past villages, fields and through forests. After having asked his friends if they would like to accompany him on his trip and having received
a unanimous positive response, he had first sought out the general of the Cheridoni cavalry unit. He had explained what services Hemarchidas and Lethoras had rendered him personally, and how he would appreciate it if they could be permitted to go with him. He had taken care to weave the general's rank as often as he could into his request. Duly impressed by the courteous behavior of the young lord governor and the recognition of his importance, the general had been all too glad to grant the permission to his two fellow tribesmen.
“He even admonished us to behave,” said a laughing Lethoras when they were on the road. “He said that we were to remember always that we represented the honor and the good name of the whole tribe in the company of a member of the royal family.”
“He even said that he was proud of us,” Hemarchidas grinned.
“But that he would flay us alive if we brought shame upon the Cheridoni tribe,” Lethoras added.
“For a moment I thought he was going to cry,” Hemarchidas shook his head.
Getting permission for Bortram had been an even simpler affair. In fact, he could have asked commander-general Tarngord to detach him to his personal guard and that would have been that. But Anaxantis had made the extra effort to go personally to the general of the second regiment to ask permission himself. General Ternengu couldn't acquiesce fast enough, impressed as he was by the visit of a prince of the royal House of Tanahkos. A polite Tanahkos at that.
Ehandar had personally arranged for the cavalry unit and had impressed upon General Busskal that he was to hand pick his best men for this assignment. Iftang Busskal who hated the barrack life, had assured him that he would do so and more, that he would personally take command of the unit. This had seemed to please lord governor Ehandar ,and Busskal had congratulated himself silently on a masterstroke, by both pleasing his superior, while at the same time escaping the boring routine of camp life.
They had set out very early and, riding at a trot, expected to reach the city in three days. In a last ditch effort, Ehandar had fussed again that the spells might return. In reality he hadn't been all too happy about the long separation, but Anaxantis had adroitly neutralized any objection he could think of, and eventually he had given in, albeit doubtfully.
“At the least sign that the sickness returns, you stop and come back in small and easy stages, you hear,” he had said. “I'll yet drag that old fool of a doctor here, and he'll regret it if it so happens that his refusal results in you being sick again,” he had added grumblingly. “Promise me you won't overdo it, out of stupid pride or something like that.”
Anaxantis had docilely promised and Ehandar, although still somewhat worried, had smiled indulgently, shaking his head. He had ordered the staff to see to the preparations and to arrange for lodgings on the way and in Dermolhea. The minor lords who were asked to accommodate the prince were grateful for the honor, and a rich merchant in Dermolhea was equally flattered.
During the stops and the evenings there was not much else to do than talk. Anaxantis and his friends did just that. They exchanged their life stories. Anaxantis was as truthful as he could, though he chose to omit certain details. He also clung to the official version of his illness during the first months after his arrival at Lorseth. It sat uneasy with him, because it was a blatant lie, but after due consideration he came to the conclusion that everybody had the right to keep some things to himself. He was certain that the others also had chosen not to mention certain facts that were just too intimate or painful to share.
“Friends respect each other's privacy,” he thought. “You not only keep the secrets they entrusted you with, but also let them have their secrets from you, and trust that they will tell you all you need to know.”
“Well, you have us now,” Lethoras said, after he had told them of his long, lonely years. “Granted, we're not exactly barons, or counts or dukes, but at least you have some friends to talk with.”
“Although the Gods know what good it will do you, hearing the opinion of a peasant's son,” Bortram added. “And I'm afraid hear it you will. Never knew when to keep my trap shut. Just ignore me.”
“I will do nothing of the sort,” Anaxantis grinned. “I value your opinion, just because you have a sober farmer's mind. When I've really had enough, I'll put a chicken leg in your mouth.”
“Ah, that would do the trick,” Bortram grinned.
“So you really think your father set you up, you and your brother? That he wants to test you?” Hemarchidas inquired pensively.
“The Gods may know what he really thinks. But one thing is certain: he could have given us adequate troops to meet the challenge of a Mukthar attack,” Anaxantis shrugged. “He must have known how precarious our situation would be. It is exactly like Ehandar said. Nobody owes us loyalty and our authority depends upon the high king's good graces. Which he can withdraw at any moment.”
“What you need is your own circle of dependable men, your own power base,” Hemarchidas mused.
“And look around you,” Bortram quipped, “you already have this sorry lot. Count your blessings.”
“Oh, but I do,” Anaxantis said sincerely, “you guys are more than friends. Not exactly family... believe me, knowing my family as I do, that is a compliment. More like a tribe... a clan.
“Anaxantis's clan,” Lethoras said dryly. “It has a certain ring to it.”
“Clansmen of Anaxantis, why not?” Bortram added. “I wouldn't mind being called that.”
“We're an awfully small clan,” Hemarchidas remarked thoughtfully. “Maybe we should look out for some new recruits. Organize things a little. Enlist new talent.”
“Although my first instinct would be to keep our clan as small, as exclusive as possible,” Hemarchidas thought. “But what's the use? If it is to be, you will see that even when I'm surrounded by a hundred men. If it isn't to be, you won't notice me, even among just the three of us. And, with a father and brothers like yours, you need a strong clan, loyal to you and to you alone.”
“I know a few men we could use,” Lethoras said. “When we return to Lorseth I could sound them out discreetly. If they should fit the bill, could you see to it that they are detached to your personal service, Anaxantis?”
“Probably. I see no reason why not.”
“But you three will always remain the first,” Anaxantis thought. “Nothing can change that anymore.”
Again alone in the big bed, Ehandar couldn't sleep. The lack of a warm, breathing body beside him felt unfamiliar. Disturbing thoughts that had hidden in dark corners reemerged. He was worried for Anaxantis and wondered how he was.
“It has only been a few weeks and already I miss him from the first night he isn't here. I should have gone with him. Damn the Marches and their unending administrative demands. It could all have waited a week or so. For that matter, damn them for good. Why can't we just leave? We could go to the city state of Soranza. They're strictly neutral and have a long tradition of granting asylum to all kinds of exiles. We would just be two princelings in a long line of fallen dictators, chased despots, dethroned kings, failed rebel leaders and refugee corrupt dignitaries. We could buy a small villa in the countryside. They say it is beautiful there. We could hire a few laborers and maybe grow some fruits or vegetables. Let the Gods create the days, and just live through them. Let the wolves fight over the Devil's Crown, while we live quietly on the soft glowing hills around Soranza. Free from fears and worries. We could be happy there. I'm certain I could make him happy... No, I should never have let him go with only his friends.”
It was no use denying it any longer.
Ehandar knew he was jealous.
Chapter 7:
Medicine for the Heart
A stout figure, entirely clad in black, cautiously opened the door of Emelasuntha's bedroom, silently walked over to the sleeping queen and lay a hand upon her mouth. The queen woke.
“Quiet, Emelasuntha, it's me, Sobrathi.”
“Sobrathi... you... finally,” Emelasuntha smiled. “Anaxantis?”
“Anaxantis is fine. He's alive, he's free, he's healthy. Quick, get up, there will be time later for all of this.”
“You're right. But I had to ask,” the queen said while she got out of bed.
“Of course you did, dear,” Sobrathi said indulgently.
She slid a backpack from her shoulders, opened it and handed over a pair of pants, a tunic and a mantle, all of the deepest black.
“I trust you have a shirt and sturdy shoes?”
“I think they brought my riding boots with the rest of my clothes,” Emelasuntha said, while she removed her nightgown and let Sobrathi help her into the pants.
A few minutes later she was fully clad. Sobrathi retrieved a belt with two daggers attached to it out of her rucksack and handed it over. Emelasuntha went over to a cabinet and came back with a small box.
“Some jewelry. Can you carry them in your backpack?”
Sobrathi nodded and held the backpack open while Emelasuntha emptied the contents of the box in it.
“Who's with you? The Sisterhood?”
“No, the Tribe of Mekthona. The Sisterhood is searching for you, but they are still far from finding this place.”
“Astonema be thanked.”
The two women left the bedroom silently and, Sobrathi leading the way, made their way silently through the deserted hallways until they reached a stairway that led to the battlements. Emelasuntha saw immediately that they were at the back of the castle.
“This is Taranaq Mountain, isn't it?” Emelasuntha asked whispering.
“Yes. Didn't they tell you?”
“Nothing. They told me nothing.”
From out of the dark three men, also clad in black, appeared.
“Your majesty, baroness, everything all right?” one of the men asked softly.
The Invisible Chains - Part 1: Bonds of Hate (Dark Tales of Randamor the Recluse) Page 9
