“Rupert …” Julia’s voice was quiet, hesitant. “I need to talk to you.”
Rupert looked around quickly. Julia was standing half-silhouetted in the stable doorway. She moved slowly forward into the lanternlight, and Rupert didn’t know whether to smile or bow or turn and run. In her old familiar clothes, she looked just the way she used to be, and he didn’t want to be reminded of that.
“I’m busy right now, Julia. Can’t this wait?”
“No,” said Julia. “It can’t.”
She studied Rupert in silence, taking in the dark bruises of fatigue beneath his eyes, and his watchful, wary stance. There was a grim, defeated look to him that she’d never seen before, and for a moment it was like looking at a stranger. The moment passed, and Julia smiled suddenly. When in doubt, go to the heart of the matter.
“I love you, Rupert.”
He flinched as though she’d hit him. “Of course you love me. That’s why you’re marrying Harald.”
“No, Rupert. They can threaten and plead, and they can drag me kicking and screaming to the altar, but they can’t make me marry him.”
“Sure.” Rupert couldn’t seem to raise enough strength to be angry; he was too tired to be anything but bitter. Julia reached out and put a hand on his arm, and it seemed heavy even in its gentleness.
“Rupert; I don’t want you to go off into battle believing a lie. I don’t give a damn for Harald, or being a Princess, or anything but being with you.”
“I saw you in the Court,” said Rupert thickly. “I saw you with Harald …”
“I was angry,” said Julia. “I wanted to hurt you, to make you jealous, because … oh, Rupert …”
She moved forward and took him in her arms. He clung to her desperately, like a drowning man, his face buried in her neck. She hugged him fiercely back, not flinching even when his strength hurt her.
“Don’t leave me,” Rupert said hoarsely into her neck. “You’re all I’ve got left.”
“I’ll never leave you,” Julia promised him quietly. “Never again, my love.”
“Me neither,” said the unicorn, butting them gently with the side of his head. Without looking round, Rupert reached blindly out with one arm and hugged the unicorn’s neck.
After a while, Rupert regained control of himself and straightened up. Julia immediately let go of him, and brushed at his clothes and pulled his chain vest straight, so that she wouldn’t have to see his face while he composed himself again. Rupert was funny about things like that.
“How long before they open the gates?” she asked, her voice carefully calm and steady.
“Not long now,” said Rupert. He smiled at Julia as she fussed over him, and then frowned suddenly as he caught sight of the leather-bound swordhilt standing up behind her left shoulder. “Julia, where did you get that sword?”
Julia heard the tension in his voice, and stepped back a pace so that she could face him squarely.
“The King wanted me to have it. He said you’d turned it down.”
“That’s right, I did. I wish you had, too.”
“It’s only a sword, Rupert.”
“No, it isn’t! That thing on your back is an Infernal Device; an evil so great my ancestors kept it locked away in the Armory for over five hundred years rather than risk using it.”
“How can any sword be that evil?”
Rupert looked at her steadily. “According to legend, the swords are alive; and they corrupt the souls of those who bear them.”
Julia shook her head impatiently. “A sword is a sword. All right, it feels … wrong, somehow. But as long as it kills demons, I’ll have a use for it. Anyway, you carry a magic sword yourself.” Julia stopped suddenly, and looked at Rupert thoughtfully. “The rainbow sword; I’d forgotten all about it. Why can’t we use that against the darkness? It worked before, remember?”
Rupert shook his head. “I’ve already tried, Julia. It doesn’t work anymore.”
Julia’s face fell, and for a moment they stood together in silence. Julia glanced out the stable door. “Rupert; I can’t stay much longer. My women are waiting for me.”
“Yes; I watched you drilling them. They looked … promising.” Rupert smiled suddenly. “I don’t know, lass; it hardly seems fair to send you out into the dark, carrying an Infernal Device and leading a company of fighting women. I mean, we just want to kill the demons, not terrorize them.”
Julia laughed. “I’ll make you pay for that, after the battle’s over.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
They looked at each other steadily. Rupert reached out and took Julia’s hands in his.
“Julia, whatever happens … I love you, lass. Never doubt it.”
“I love you, Rupert. You watch your back, when we finally get out there.”
“Right. And after we’ve won …”
“Yes,” said Julia. “There’ll be time for lots of things, after we’ve won.”
They kissed once, lingeringly, and then Julia turned and walked out of the stables, back to her waiting women. Rupert watched her go and, for the first time in a long time, he felt at peace with himself. He reached inside his chain mail vest, and from under his jerkin he brought out a crumpled, battered handkerchief spotted with faded bloodstains. “My Lady’s favor,” he said softly. He touched the cloth to his lips, and then tucked it carefully back into place, over his heart.
“Lancers, mount up! Gate keepers, stand ready!”
The Champion’s voice came roaring across the courtyard, and for a moment the voice of the crowd fell silent, before rising again in a bedlam of shouted orders and whinnying horses. Rupert breathed deeply, straightened his shoulders, and led the unicorn out of the stables and into the courtyard.
The Champion sat astride a massive, evil-eyed charger, the torchlight gleaming ruddy on his freshly polished armor. Impressive and invincible, and towering above the milling crowd, a hero out of legend. He gestured impatiently with his war-axe, and a hundred lancers urged their horses forward to take up their position behind him. The couched lances stabbed proudly up at the starless night sky, their gleaming shafts bedecked with brightly colored ribbons and lady’s favors, like so many brilliant banners. The guards and men-at-arms moved in behind the lancers, laughing and joking and passing around flasks of wine. They stamped their feet against the cold, and glanced at the closed gates with eager anticipation, glad that the waiting was almost over. And behind them, bringing up the rear, came the courtiers and farmers and traders, uncomfortable in their ill-fitting armor, but quietly determined not to be found wanting when the time came. Men and women stood side-by-side, carrying swords and pikes and hand-axes, and no one thought it strange. Women were fighting for the same reason as men; because they were needed, and because there was no one else.
Rupert mounted his unicorn, and slowly made his way through the crowd to take his place at the head of the army. A handful of guardsmen appeared out of nowhere and formed themselves into an honor guard around him. Rupert bowed his head to them, and the ten guards he’d brought back from the Darkwood saluted him with their swords.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” demanded Rupert. “You should be taking it easy in your barracks; you’re walking wounded.”
“If we can walk, we’re not wounded,” said Rob Hawke. “That’s the orders. Besides, why should you have all the fun? We were just getting the hang of killing demons when you dragged us back into the Castle.”
“You know the odds are stacked against us,” Rupert began, and then had to break off as the guards laughed derisively.
“When haven’t the odds been stacked against us?” grinned Hawke. “We’re getting used to that.”
“Doomed!” moaned another guard. “We’re all doomed!”
Several of the guards started wailing a funeral dirge, but quickly grew bored and changed it to an upbeat tempo. People around them stared at the guards, and then looked hastily away. Rupert couldn’t speak for laughing
. By the time the small party reached the Castle gates, he was leading his men in a bawdy marching song in which the word doomed appeared at regular intervals.
King John was kneeling beside his horse in the shadows of the inner North wall, struggling with a stubborn girth strap. His tousled gray hair was held in place by a simple leather headband, and his chain mail bore the scars and repairs from a hundred old campaigns. Rockbreaker clung to his back as though it was a part of him, but he still wore his old, familiar sword on his left hip. The Astrologer stood beside him, watching patiently. Finally he reached down and deftly pulled the girth strap into place.
“Thanks,” said the King gruffly, getting to his feet. “Never was much good with horses.”
“You’re welcome, John.”
“I’m glad you’re here, Thomas. It seems there’s nobody else in this Castle who gives a damn whether I live or die.”
“There’s always your family.”
“Family,” said King John. “I haven’t had a family since my Eleanor died. My sons and I … aren’t what you’d call close. No reason why we should be. Harald is a brave enough fighter, and a better statesman, but his heart is as empty as a pauper’s purse. I don’t think he’d know an honest emotion if it bit him.”
“And Rupert?”
For a moment Thomas Grey thought John was going to tell him to mind his own business, and then John’s shoulders suddenly slumped, and the King looked somehow older.
“Rupert. Not once in his life has that boy done what I expected of him. He shouldn’t even be here now, by rights. When I sent him off on his quest, I never expected to see him again. Certainly, he was never supposed to actually track down and fight a dragon; he was supposed to do the sensible thing, and just keep on going into exile, as I intended. But no, he had to be different. He had to do his duty. Ah well, he’s not a bad lad, in his way.”
“Then why isn’t he here, with you?”
“No reason why he should be. Since the day he was born, he’s known nothing but loneliness and despair, and all because of me. I didn’t need or want a second son, and the Court is very quick to pick up on things like that. They made his life a misery, and I let them do it. I could have protected him, advised him … loved him. But I never did, because I always knew that one day I might have to order his death, to secure the throne for Harald. I had to be that way. The Land couldn’t survive a civil war, not so soon after the Border War with Hillsdown. And now, after all these years … I can’t help thinking the Land would be safer in Rupert’s hands than Harald’s. At least Rupert has a heart.”
John turned back to his horse, gave the stirrup a quick tug to make sure it was secure, and then pulled himself up into the saddle. The horse tossed its head impatiently, eager to be off. John settled himself comfortably, refusing to be hurried, and then smiled at Thomas Grey.
“We’ll be off soon. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck, John. And watch your back.”
King John urged his horse forward, and slowly made his way through the packed ranks of the waiting army to join his sons before the Castle gates.
Rupert’s hands closed tightly on the unicorn’s reins as he watched his father moving slowly and purposefully toward him. His back muscles tensed painfully as he struggled to appear calm and unconcerned. What do you want now? he thought bitterly. There’s nothing more you can do to me, nothing left you can take from me. The guards surrounding him grew silent and watchful as the King carefully maneuvered his horse into position, midway between Rupert and Harald. The two Princes bowed briefly to their King.
“You got here just in time, father,” said Harald smoothly. “We were becoming concerned about you.”
“Thank you, Harald,” said the King. “Now, if you’ll excuse me for a moment, I want to speak to Rupert in private.”
Harald stiffened slightly, and shot a quick searching glance at Rupert before bowing coldly, and moving his horse several yards away. He sat rigidly in the saddle, studying the huge oaken doors before him, and his face revealed nothing, nothing at all. King John ignored him, and looked meaningfully at Rupert’s honor guard. The guardsmen stared calmly back. Several of them ostentatiously rested their hands on their swordbelts. The King smiled grimly.
“Call off your dogs, Rupert. Before I decide to have them muzzled.”
The guards looked at Rupert, who nodded reluctantly. The guardsmen bowed to him, stared coldly at the King, and then withdrew into the crowd, though not very far. Rupert studied the King thoughtfully.
“Whatever you want, Father, the answer’s no.”
“You always were a cautious one, Rupert.”
“I’ve been given enough cause.”
The King looked away, unable to meet Rupert’s steady gaze. His horse fidgeted uneasily as the King’s hands played aimlessly with the reins.
“Rupert …”
“Father.”
“How long now, before we go out?”
“A few minutes, at most.”
“Do you hate me, son?”
The sudden question caught Rupert off-guard, and he stumbled over his reply. “Sometimes, I suppose. You’ve given me damn little reason to love you, but … you’re the King, and the Land must come first. I’ve always known that.”
“Politics,” sighed the King. “It all seems so petty now, set against the long night waiting outside our walls. I’ve always done my best for the Land, done what I believed was right, even when it cost me the things I treasured most, but none of the things I fought for seem to matter much anymore. Rupert, you’re my son, my blood and kin, and I want you to know that I’m proud of you. Despite … many things, you have always been true to the Land, and your duty.”
“Why wait till now to tell me?” said Rupert. “Why not tell me when it mattered; just once, in front of the Court!”
“And make you even more of a target for the Court intrigues?” said the King softly. “I kept you isolated from the throne and the Barons so that Harald’s supporters wouldn’t see you as a threat. Was I really so wrong, to want you alive rather than hanged as a pretender to the throne?”
“That isn’t why you did it,” said Rupert flatly. “You did it for Harald’s sake, not mine.”
King John nodded quietly. “I did my best for you,” he said finally. “What happened to your chain mail? Why aren’t you wearing it?”
“It got in the way. I do better without armor.”
The King looked unconvinced, but let the matter drop rather than risk breaking the tentative bond between them. “Watch yourself out there, son. I want you coming back in one piece.”
“I’ll do my best to oblige you,” said Rupert solemnly, and they both chuckled briefly.
There was a pause, as they looked for something else to say, and found they’d said it all. They never did have much in common, and Rupert knew that he and his father were already beginning to drift apart again.
“I don’t know what everyone’s so worried about,” he said finally. “How can we lose, with the Champion leading us?” He gestured at the Champion, sitting impassively astride his armored war charger like an ancient heroic statue come to life.
King John glanced briefly at his Champion, and frowned. “The Champion isn’t necessarily a touchstone for success, Rupert. He’s not been defeated in battle since he became my Champion, over twenty years ago; and that makes him dangerous. To us, and to himself.”
“Dangerous? How?”
“He’s overconfident. By the time he realizes he’s not invulnerable after all, it might be too late to do him or whoever he’s fighting beside any good.”
Rupert nodded soberly. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”
“It might be wise.” King John took up his reins and turned his horse away from Rupert. “And now, I’d better have a word with your brother, while there’s still time.”
“Father,” said Rupert suddenly, “If you’d thought it necessary, you would have ordered my death, wouldn’t you?”
The King glanced bac
k over his shoulder. “Damn right I would have,” he said calmly, and then urged his horse on into the packed crowd, heading for where Harald was waiting on his charger. Rupert shook his head slowly, and looked away.
“So, here we go again, Breeze. Out to face the darkness one more time.”
“Good,” said the unicorn. “I’m fed up with all this waiting. Anything would be better than this. Well, almost anything.”
“Yeah. I’m scared, Breeze.”
“So am I, Rupert.”
“My guts are churning like you wouldn’t believe.”
“Take it easy. The gates will be opening any minute, and once the fighting starts you won’t have time to be scared.”
“Yeah. Sure. Oh hell, I need to take a leak again.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Look, whose bladder is it?”
“Stand ready, the gatehouse!” called the Champion, and a sudden hush fell across the army for a moment as everyone realized that the gates were finally about to open. Half a dozen men-at-arms moved into position before the doors, ready to draw back the great steel bolts at the King’s command. Rupert slipped his left arm through the straps of his buckler, and tightened them securely. The heavy weight of the shield on his arm was deeply reassuring. He took a firm hold of both reins with his left hand, and then drew his sword. The familiar feel of the swordhilt was a comfort to him.
His guardsmen jostled their way back through the crowd, and took up their positions around him again. They shifted restlessly from foot to foot, hefting their swords impatiently, their eyes fixed on the great oak doors. Rupert felt a strange calm seeping through him, now that the moment had finally come. One way or another, this could well be the last time he’d have to face the darkness. Julia called out to him, and he looked back to see her slowly maneuvering her horse through the crowd toward him. Her troops of fighting women formed a guard of honor around her. They looked hard and competent, and ready for battle. Rupert wondered wistfully if he appeared anything like as intimidating to them. He bowed politely to the women, and exchanged a grin with Julia as she steered her horse in beside him.
Blue Moon Rising (Darkwood) Page 47
