“I ought have had them rewritten. Willem’s clerk would make them more flowery.”
“They’d have been ruined. I heard your voice, watched your quill fumble.”
“Thank you.” My tone was bitter.
“It made them precious.” She colored. “The more so that you spoke your heart.” She glanced to my face, and away.
“I had no one else.” I realized what I’d said. “You see? I meant they were precious to me too, but it sounded ...” Oh, Rust, tease me once more for my muddled speech. I swallowed.
“Come sit. You pace like you need a chamberpot.”
I blushed. “Nerves.” I sank at her side, on a cushioned bench, my best side turned toward her.
“I tended your wounds, my lord. There’s no need for formal—”
“Roddy. You always called me that.”
“There’s no need for formality, Roddy.”
Resolutely, I took her hand, raised it to my lips. “This is for your letters that sustained me.” I lowered my hand, astounded I’d carried off the gesture without catastrophe. A year past, I’d near assaulted her in a fit of ardor; only her good sense stayed my loss of the Still.
Now, of course, ardor was beyond Tresa’s considering, despite the protestation in her scroll. If I moved to embrace her, she’d run screaming from the room; my scar had made me ugly beyond belief. Only Rustin could delude himself enough to cherish my visage. Unconsciously I resettled myself, putting distance between us.
“What will you do now, Roddy?”
“Ride north.”
“I mean, without Rustin. You made him your guardian, did you not?”
“More. I’ll tell you a secret.” I described how I’d set him as regent, and how he’d quietly guided my hand.
Her look was one of wonder. “How you trusted him!”
“Of course.” I bit my lip, reluctant to reveal deepest flaws. “I had to, you see. The Still brings out ...” I explained how the Power gave my cruelty full rein. “I’m on constant guard. Just this afternoon I savaged Genard, in harsh speech.”
“I’ve not seen you cruel.”
“Hah. When I think of last year’s visit, I sweat through my jerkin.”
“That was ... inexperience.” She smiled. “You’re older now.”
“But still vir—” I forced myself to finish. “Still virgin, Tresa, and a dolt with women.”
To my astonishment she leaned close and kissed my cheek. “It matters so to boys, doesn’t it?”
“More than you can imagine.” It was as much as I dared say. No torture could make me disclose my fevered nights, my restless anguish.
“Pay no heed, Roddy. I judge you by more than rutting.”
“Really?” My voice was a squeak.
“You freed yourself from Margenthar, rallied the kingdom, retook Stryx. Your troops respect you—”
“How know you that?”
“How many deserted on the road from Stryx?”
“A handful.”
“Only a handful?”
“You really think ...”
“You’ve been a good king.”
“Ahh. Well.” I shifted, finding sudden discomfort in the seat. “Hmm.”
I examined the delicate silver falcon. “It’s exquisite. Thank you.”
Jestrel the silversmith bowed his appreciation. “Your hospitality has been—”
“Lady Tresa’s.”
“Yours, until now. In your generosity, might I ask a boon?”
“It depends.” My tone was cautious. If he expected me to pay for the keepsake after all ...
“Cumber’s sunk in war and taxation; my wares are wasted here. If I might ride with your troop, to the Ukra passes ...”
“Granted.” Thank heaven it was all he wanted. “Genard, don’t break it.” I held out my hand.
Reluctantly, the stableboy let go of my treasure. “It’s beautiful, m’lor’.”
“I have others,” said Jestrel. “If you’d grace my chamber with a visit ...”
“Yes, I’d love to. But not tonight.” We would ride at dawn; I had soon to be abed. I stood. “Perhaps at Pezar.”
“It would only take a moment ... as you say, my lord.” A deep bow, covering his disappointment.
I sought out Tursel, in his old quarters built onto the wall. We passed an hour reviewing the line of march, my relentless bodyguards pacing outside, while I struggled not to nod off. Really, I should study war, since I seemed destined to spend my life at it. At last I made my escape.
On the way back to the donjon I detoured to the flagstone, where Rust lay. “I’m off, sir. I’ll be back, if I’ve breath in my body.”
Fare thee well, my prince.
“I’m nothing without you!” It was a whisper.
Have I taught you so little?
“I had so much to say, and never found the words.” My throat caught.
Ahh, Roddy. Don’t weep. I can’t abide it.
“I can’t help it.”
Perhaps when all’s done we’ll meet. Have ease, Roddy.
I stumbled to my room, blind from salt sting. I collapsed on my soft, luxurious bed, jumped up, ran to the adjoining chamber.
“Anavar? Do I trouble you?” I knocked again. “Anav—could you sit by my bed ’til I sleep? I’d be grate ...” I beat my thigh, ’til my voice was steady. “Anavar, I beg you.”
The army of Caledon toiled and creaked past the shadows of Cumber’s bright towers.
Pezar was a day’s ride, no more, for a man on a fast horse. But an army was not that. Heavily loaded wagons mired themselves in ruts and mud, and cavalry was constrained to the pace of trudging men. We’d be three days on the march.
Elryc rode to my left, and beside him, Genard. To my right, Lady Soushire and Anavar. Groenfil and Tursel rode up and down the line, a vigilant tandem of captains. From time to time Groenfil stopped to have word with Larissa, and Tursel to change horses.
We’d turned from the broadened road for a track that meandered into the hills, before I discovered Tresa was among us.
“What vexes you, Roddy? I have a tent of my own.” She patted her spirited mare, soothing her.
“Uncle Raeth said you were to—”
“Let the king ride through Cumber unescorted? He’d be aghast.”
“A lady has no place at war.”
Larissa of Soushire chuckled. “Shall I depart? I’d take my retinue.”
“Your pardon, Lady Soushire.” I bowed at the thrust. “You’re most welcome in our midst. And Groenfil would be most discomfited were you to leave.”
She blushed. It gave me respite to turn back to Tresa. “Uncle Raeth sent you home to Cumber.”
“A month ago. Circumstances have changed.”
“He’ll be furious. Worse, he’ll think I arranged your return.”
“Oh?” Tresa cocked an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you feared him.”
“Don’t play that game.” I rounded on Anavar. “What are you grinning at?”
“Nothing, sir.”
“Bah.” Scowling, I turned back to Tresa. “Well, don’t ride in the brush. Here, to my right. Take Anavar’s place. In fact, take his horse.”
My Eiberian ward sniffed, nose in air. “I’ll help Tursel. One of us ought to be useful.” He galloped off.
“I see what you meant about cruelty.” Tresa rode to Larissa’s right, at the edge of our row. “Oh, Roddy, don’t pout, I spoke in jest.”
Larissa grunted. “You ought teach the king humor. His Rustin made him sputter and fume at will.”
“Roddy hates being teased.”
“Only when I don’t know it.” I cast about for a diversion. “Is Pezar tolerable?”
“It’s small, dull, dusty. But Grandfather’s built a stone kitchen. He sends weekly for spices.”
“He would.” I smiled at my memories of Cumber. Uncle Raeth made every meal a banquet. Even if he starved, he said, he would starve in style. Once, Rust and I were served a ... my smile vanished. I rode with head bowed.
We stopped to water the horses at an icy stream. It was there a runner caught us. “Margenthar encamps outside Soushire Castle. He seeks the lady’s hospitality.”
Larissa bit viciously into a soft loaf, as if tearing off a foe’s head. “He knows full well I’m with you.”
I said, “Are you prepared for siege?”
“As well as can be. But his thousand outnumber my few.”
Groenfil’s gentle hand soothed her shoulder. “You stripped your defenses, my lady?”
“Not utterly. But was I to ride alone? I’m always accompanied by my troop. And the king ordered us into the field.”
I hid a smile. No order could have bludgeoned her from Soushire, were it not her choice. She was plowing ground to seed my obligation, should Margenthar seize her holding.
I pondered. Should I send Larissa home to fend off Mar’s thrust? Or better yet, send Groenfil on her behalf?
No, I ought not. Our soldiers who left the field wouldn’t return; time, battle and other obligations would intercede. In fact, I should beware lest Larissa depart without leave.
Tresa’s voice was soothing. “Surely Mar will be months at siege. When Roddy turns his army south, he’ll flee.”
Lady Soushire snorted. “What army, when the Norlanders are done with us?”
“If Hriskil bests us,” I said stiffly, “there’s no safety in Soushire.”
“Nonetheless ...”
I made a sour face. If Larissa held Soushire securely, and luck favored her, she might persuade Hriskil to accept tribute and homage, and keep her castle. The loyalty of my nobles was only as good as my strength. Such were realities.
Elryc whispered, “Be nice to her.”
I frowned. Did I need a child sage to tell me the obvious? “No doubt it’s vexing, my lady. But you have valiant men at arms.”
“Old Quindar? He’s an irresolute fool.”
“And stout walls.”
“But low, in the north quadrant. I was meaning to build them higher. I really ought to go set matters right.”
“We’re within a day of Uncle Raeth. Let’s ask his counsel.”
She motioned a groom to help her mount. “You must think me dense indeed.”
“No, not at—”
“I’ll stay because I gave promise and the peril’s not dire.” She hoisted her hefty form onto her patient palfrey. “No thanks to your honeyed words.”
“Whatever the cause, I’m grateful.” The day wasn’t that warm. Why was I sweating?
“Hmpff. Groenfil, a word.” A flick of her crop, and she moved out of earshot.
“Deftly done, Roddy.” Tresa’s eyes held a glint of amusement. “You have a gift with women.”
“Did I claim to be silver-tongued? Am I a mummer, to cast a thrall?” I swatted an annoying fly. “I beg you stay home, and you ride. I beg her stay, and ...”
“I’m jealous. Does her beauty blind you so?”
Larissa was fat, had yellowed teeth, and ate garlic cloves. I shuddered. Then, gamely, “No, my lady, yours does.”
Spots of red in her cheeks; my point had found flesh. Advantage taken, best to retire from the field. “Ah, Tursel, hold a moment!” I wheeled after him. More quietly, when he and I were alone, “Keep us moving ’til we’re at Pezar. Don’t give Larissa time to withdraw.”
“If she chooses to leave, rolling wagons won’t stop her.”
“I know; but ...” I rolled my eyes. What more could I do, short of forging chains to bind my nobles?
Pezar was all Tresa had promised: a dirty border town of no consequence, its rustic calm disrupted by Cumber’s encampment. Two hopelessly overcrowded alehouses, a creaky mill, a blacksmith and a desultory market were all the town offered.
Anavar, Elryc and I rode with our bodyguards to the windswept hillside, where we found Uncle Raeth glumly watching laborers strengthen his defensive wall.
He’d placed our battlement directly across the road that ran the length of the pass; one end died in a steep, near-unclimbable hill, the other at a roaring stream that carried water from the mountain. Huge, thick wooden gates closed the road under the wall. All in all, a sturdy bulwark.
Uncle Raeth’s wrinkled blue eyes lit. “Roddy! My lord king, that is.” A bow, with a flourish. With the aid of a stout walking stick he dismounted the new-mortared berm he’d climbed. “Imbar’s sending out a patrol; he’ll be along shortly. You look ghastly.”
My hand flew to my scar.
“Not that, my boy. Your eyes, your expression. It’s Rustin, of course. I’m so, so sorry.” He opened his arms. I nearly fell into them. “There, boy, it’s all right.”
“How did—did you—”
“Tresa sent word. Now, don’t try to talk.”
I didn’t.
“Dry your eyes, Roddy. Folk are watching.”
“Let them.” But I did as he asked.
Perhaps to give me time to sort myself out, Raeth surveyed his defenses. “Hriskil threatens to go round the west Caleds, but this is the only sensible pass. I haven’t budged, despite his allurements. And so we survived the winter.”
“And Tantroth?”
Raeth’s shrewd eyes met mine. “I do believe he’d cede his duchy if only he could keep Eiber Castle and the three leagues surrounding. He’s obsessed with regaining it.”
“Can you blame him? What if Hriskil took Cumber Town?”
“I’d husband my force, and govern from an alehouse.” A contemptuous thumb toward the outskirts of Pezar. “I’ve not stooped quite so low. Ahh, there’s Baron Imbar!” A welcome wave to a grizzled fleshy man I knew too well. “Make obeisance to your king. He’s grown, has he not?”
I turned away from Imbar. “Remove him!” My final quarrel with Rust had been over Raeth’s one-time valet, ennobled as a boon to Uncle Raeth.
The old baron’s tone was pleading. “I wept when Rae told me.” He sank to a knee. “Find it in your heart to forgive me.”
“I do not.” Nonetheless, I sighed. Imbar was Raeth’s right-hand man, and defended my kingdom. I was too weary to be as angry as I ought. I waved vaguely.
“There, that’s done. He has a king’s grace, does he not, Imbar? Think you he’s hungry after his long ride?”
“I’m here, Uncle. Ask me.”
“Change my ways, at the last of life? Unlikely.” But he bowed in my direction, rather formally. “I invite you to dinner, Rodrigo. We’ve a pavilion outside the hearth I insisted on building. The alehouse was unspeakable.”
“I’d like that. Groenfil and Soushire, of course?”
“And your Baron Anavar.”
I clapped Anavar’s shoulder. “He’ll escort Lady Tresa.”
Raeth’s head shot up. “You brought her?”
“She brought herself.” I wouldn’t take responsibility.
“You shouldn’t have allowed it.” He looked cross. Discreetly, I let it pass.
Though Raeth made a fetish of gastronomy, I noticed he saw to it our troops were fed and sent to reinforce our defenses before we sat to dinner. I nodded silent approval.
Over ragout of venison with sage and tarragon, I studied him. Despite his animated conversation he seemed tired and careworn; winter in his wretched border camp must have been miserable indeed. Tresa eyed him with unconcealed concern.
“Word’s been sent to Tantroth.” Uncle Raeth looked glum. “He’ll know he’s summoned, if our runners get through. Last month four were caught. Try the spiced asparagus.”
“Imprisoned?”
“Tortured. They’re dead.” With an effort, he wrenched the conversation elsewhere. “So, Anavar, has our king yet provided you lands?”
“Mar’s estate shall be his.” I spoke before Anavar could. “All of it.”
Anavar’s eyes widened. “Sir, I thank—”
“Don’t spend your revenues. First we need secure them.”
“Aye, sir.” For the rest of the meal his attention was lost.
Afterward, in dusk, Raeth and I walked the camp. To my sur
prise he agreed we need take battle to Hriskil, rather than wait on his pleasure.
“I’m too old for another winter of this, my boy.” Gingerly, Raeth stepped over a steaming pile of horse dung. “And Lord of Nature knows what’s befallen my garden.”
“It’s a bit bedraggled,” I admitted. Scarce a year ago it had been a wonder.
“We’ve been lucky so far,” he said. “Not to discount your prowess as a warrior.”
I shot him a sharp glance, alert for mockery, but he seemed serious.
“Hriskil split his force to no purpose, Roddy. He sent your Danzik south of Stryx, led his own command in central Eiber and left more men here beyond the pass. Had Hriskil struck in one place with his full might ...”
“He may still.” A chill stabbed my spine. “What if he withdrew from Eiber and sailed down the coast to Stryx harbor?”
“He’d be King of Caledon.” It was said simply, without menace, and was all the more frightful. “But he can’t leave Tantroth behind to harry him.”
“All the worse for us,” I said.
“Yes. I’d be surprised if Tantroth hasn’t already made overtures to the Norland.”
I stopped short. “Uncle, tell me true. If Cumber were at stake, would you do the same?”
“And be vassal to Hriskil? No. His kitchens are an infamy.”
“Be serious.”
“I am,” he said. “Do you think he serves mountain-iced sorbet to clear the palate, as I did tonight? Bah.” A few finicky steps, through ruts and mud. “And there’s the matter of an oath.”
“It sits lightly enough on your peers.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Larissa’s here, is she not?”
We hadn’t spoken of Mar’s threat to Soushire. I forbore to ask how he knew. This was, after all, Caledon.
“If it’s the oath that binds you, I thank you.”
“That was offensive.”
I swallowed. “Uncle, I beg pardon. Your oath is as good as my own. It was callow to say otherwise.”
“Ahh. Rustin taught you well.”
Abruptly, the day was bleak. “Yes.”
We returned to camp. Somewhere along the way, he took my arm, and held to it until we reached our tents. Before leaving me he tilted his head quizzically. “Was it wise, Roddy, to cart Danzik so close to rescue?”
“He’s been teaching me.” Rustin’s murder had driven thought of learning from my mind. I sighed. “I’ll resume my lessons.”
The King (Rodrigo of Caledon Book 2) Page 15
