I had no doubt that my probe of Jestrel was the cause. By cleaving the shield that cloaked him, I was assured, as I couldn’t be otherwise, that only greed propelled him to his folly. Yet it left me listless, and I’d made myself worse by tramping about the camp, buying Anavar a splendid new mount, courting Tresa, banqueting with Raeth.
I tried, the second day, to speak to Mother and my grandsires, but to no avail. It would be days before I could wield the Still anew.
Not that I had need.
Anavar galloped about, risking bones on wet ground, until I could stand no more. One of us must have sense for both. He was sullen about my rebuke, but I prided myself in paying no heed, and deemed that an act of kindness. Eiberians, all knew, opened their hearts for all to see; good or bad, I would know Anavar’s moods. He wasn’t circumspect, as I. Perhaps he could learn from my example.
Near dusk the third day, Tantroth came storming through the wood, dragging his carts along a hastily cleared trail. We’d had scant notice of his approach, and that thanks to the scouts he sent to forewarn us. I began to see how he’d evaded Hriskil these many months.
We spent a weary night organizing ourselves for the morn.
“What of Danzik?” asked Lord Groenfil. “Every man who guards him is one less to fight.”
“Danzik rides with us.” I’d grown accustomed to—no, I looked forward to—our daily lessons. I’d uncovered in myself a facility for the uncouth Norland speech. Today, for the first time, my thoughts had formed themselves in the foreign tongue.
“And the silversmith? Hang him, or send him to Cumber to await your pleasure.” Groenfil brushed his cloak, set it carefully on his shoulders. “What’s he done, by the way?”
“Offended me.” I left it at that.
Deep into the night I plotted my revenge on Jestrel, while his silver falcon stared accusingly.
Flaying might suffice; I needn’t stand near to hear his screams. Burning, if I could devise a fire slow enough.
I sat brooding.
Seldom had I felt so humiliated. Jestrel had had the power to bind me, and with me, Caledon. Yet he’d long scorned me as an unworthy prize, to be seized only in desperation.
After a time I sat on the chill floor of my tent, aware that his true crime, in my eyes, was his contempt, his reluctance to offer me the fruit of submission until all else failed. At length I roused myself. “Bring the silversmith.”
I was shocked at the change three days had wrought. He stumbled in, haggard, his clothes hanging, deep orbs under his haunted eyes. Kadar’s men watched him, hands never far from their blades.
“Leave us.”
When they were gone I sliced through his ropes. He rubbed his reddened wrists.
“Gracious lord, if I may—”
“Don’t speak.” I took the better stool, gave him the other. “Know you I roamed your mind?”
He nodded. “It was as ...” He colored. “When a woman is forced—”
“I know you, perhaps as well as you know yourself.” In his mind I’d found fear, greed, vast yearning to be thought worthy. “For years you schemed, Jestrel, to raise yourself through the Fruit of Chorr. How old are you?”
“I was born two years after your mother, the gracious—”
“So much time wasted. You’re past fifty, but you’ve still got your teeth. You’ve time yet, Jestrel, if imps don’t sicken you.”
He said cautiously, “Time to ... ?”
“To make yourself the world’s most renowned silversmith. To gain wealth, admirers, standing. Perhaps even a barony. Loan money to a king, that should do it.”
“But I ...” He dared not speak of it.
“Yes. I pardon you. Your penalty is that you must achieve prominence on your own, by your talent. Not by enslavement. Settle yourself, in any royal town. Visitors will hear of you. Word will spread. Send small, exquisite gifts to royalty who visit your monarch.”
“But the cost, a proper shop ...”
“Work in a barn at first, with a churl as bellows boy. They’ll find you. Everyone goes to the Empur of the Ukras, soon or late. Or try the Warthen of the Sands.”
He whispered, “Think you I’d succeed?”
I lifted the exquisite falcon he’d given me. “Its wings are poised to beat, its beak to stab. Make nothing common, Jestrel. There’s witchery in your work.”
He dropped his head. Presently a tear splashed to his lap.
“And don’t sell yourself cheap.” I said. “Make barons and earls pay what you’re worth. The higher they pay, the more they’ll value it.”
He fell to his knees. “Rodrigo, if you toy with me ... don’t.”
“You’re free to go. Settle where you like. Anywhere but Stryx.”
“Pir?” Danzik asked in his uncouth tongue, as we sat together in the jouncing wagon. “Why do you chase Hriskil to your death? Why not stay and wait?”
I sought the Norlandic words. “Eiber is my land.” Mine to defend, the cost of my vassals’ fealty.
He grinned. “Tantroth says not.”
I shrugged. He set aside his aspirations, I wanted to say, but such subtle speech was beyond me.
Perhaps Danzik understood. He said seriously, “Hriskil will kill you, Caled king.”
“Regra vos?” Will that sorrow you?
“Quix iot.” He leaned forward and shrugged, hands in air. “Quix.” He did it again. Then he put thumb and forefinger together, an inch apart. “Iot.”
I smiled. Quix iot. Perhaps a little. “Pir?”
“Because you learn quickly.” It was a moment before I realized he’d spoken Norlandic. Perhaps he said truth.
“Tell me.” I took a moment to form the strange words. “Why does Hriskil want Caledon?”
He spoke long and volubly, and his face gained color. He slowed, and repeated himself several times.
When all was done I thought I had the gist of it. Stripped of self-justification, his answer seemed to be: because it was there.
Along the trail from Pezar into Eiber, we saw not a single Norlander. By noon Tantroth assured us we crossed ground Hriskil’s scouts had roamed two days past.
I took stock. Eiber Castle was a day’s fast ride, by horse. Three days or more, for our army. From the castle to the sea, another day by horse.
Hriskil would meet us on ground he favored, well beyond the castle. And if he slipped behind us and broke through the scant force we’d left at the pass, all Cumber was his.
Groenfil and Tantroth were as men possessed. Their scouts and patrols roamed in constant search of the Norland foe, while Tursel rode our line, keeping us together. I asked to help, but my captain’s look held such dismay that I subdued my pride and rode instead with Anavar.
The Eiberian’s young stallion was a match for Ebon himself, and my baron was beside himself with pride and joy. Constantly he fiddled with cinches, patted the pommel, adjusted his stirrups until he drove me to distraction. Thrice harsh words sprang to my lips; twice I swallowed them, congratulating myself. The third time I was savage and reduced him to tears.
“My lord, he’s out there.” Almost, Tantroth sniffed the late afternoon’s wind. “I know it.”
We’d wound our way from the high pass. The terrain smoothed and settled into a high plateau, and the pine forests gave way to imperious oaks that fought a slow, tenacious battle with stubborn stands of beech.
We rode, walked and rolled in uneasy silence. Danzik sat alert in his wagon, eyes roving from shrubs to hillside.
Quietly, Tursel issued extra arrows to the archers, set pikemen to walk alongside so that, were we ambushed, the archers might be protected while they loosed their deadly volleys.
Our scouts ranged far and met no foe.
At last the majestic oaks gave way to meadows, and Tursel chose our camp. The nobles’ tents were all set in the center: Raeth and Imbar’s, Lady Soushire’s, Groenfil’s, Tresa’s, my own. Elryc asked leave to spend the night with me; no doubt it meant Genard also, but I acquiesced. I’d vented
my cruelty enough for one day. I sent Anavar delicacies from my wooden box, but had no reply.
My brother watched from the corner. “What are you about, Roddy?”
I settled myself before the bowl. “A talk with Mother.” I poured water, waited for it to still.
Nothing. I could see no cave, not even mist. I sighed. After I’d tormented the truth from Tanner, it had been five days before I’d seen my power return.
“Roddy, don’t let me be taken.” Abruptly, Elryc’s voice was tremulous.
“I won’t. Did I not promise Hester? And if you are, I won’t rest ’til you’re free. Our lives are as one. By the True, I so swear.”
He calmed himself, and we settled to sleep. I was weary, and Elryc’s thrashing about was a trial.
In the darkest hours, shouts and alarums.
I sat bolt upright, knocking Elryc’s arm aside. “What—”
Snores, from my bed and the corner.
I thrust on boots and cloak, peered out. A tent blazed in the night; ineffectual men ran up with buckets. From the heavens, stars fell. I muttered words to dispel demons.
Kadar thrust me past a campfire. “Stay under cover, sire! Behind a wagon, or—”
“Who—”
“Fire arrows!” Even as he spoke, blazing barbs fell among us.
I dashed into the tent, roused Elryc and Genard. “Hurry!” We raced to a wagon, threw ourselves behind. I cannoned into a dark figure, fell heavily, head throbbing.
“Sorry, my lord.”
“Anavar?” I rubbed my skull.
“Stay low.” Ignoring his own advice, he peered over the sideboard.
I pulled him down, threw a protective arm over his shoulders. “I need you alive.”
His look of gratitude caught my throat. I said gruffly, “About today ... I was tired and sore.” I knew it wasn’t enough. “At least this time it was only words.”
“It’s all right, sir. Think you they’ll attack?”
“At night?” I shook my head. “They but harass us.” A clever tactic; it kept us all awake, and caused us loss. Two wagons were ablaze.
“Groenfil’s lost his tent.” He gestured to the flames.
“No doubt Larissa will offer hospitality.” Together we grinned at the ribald image. “Where’s your bed?”
“With Tursel.” He made a face.
I said carefully, “No one will take Rustin’s place. Sometimes Elryc and Genard will join me, but if you care to share my tent—”
“Accepted.” He wrung my hand. “I was worried you’d still be angry. I couldn’t help myself. Edmund is so new to me—”
“Edmund?”
“My stallion.”
A horse with a human name. Odd folk, Eiberians. I hoped the horse wouldn’t expect to be seated at table.
The morning sun shone pale and cool.
“They passed our patrols?” My face was red.
Tursel looked abashed. Tantroth shifted uneasily. “We’re a large camp. Had they come any closer we’d have seen—”
“Three wagons torched, all of us without sleep ...” I waved in irritation. “How is it they find us, and we don’t come on them?”
“I don’t know.” Tantroth looked cross. “You see what Eiber’s been up against?”
I circled Ebon, checking his tack, trying to be thorough without seeming like Anavar. Last night, after the excitement died down my vassal had run to fetch his blanket and curled up in the corner of my tent near Genard.
I was certain I was making a mistake. A king ought live in regal solitude, not appear common. Yet Anavar was my ward, and how could I deny my brother Elryc? And where he went, followed Genard. I sighed. Perhaps I ought worry less about appearance, more about ruling well.
One by one Tursel’s patrols reported. No enemy in sight. Fresh track, to the west. Day-old horse dung ahead, to the east.
Once more we lurched into motion.
Uncle Raeth rode up, slipped between me and Anavar. “Well, my boy, we’ll see Norlanders this day.”
“Think you so?”
“I’m sure of it. Any longer and we’d gain too much ground. Hriskil won’t let us seize Eiber Castle and drive him from the duchy, else from Eiber Castle we’d hinder his campaign against Caledon. No, if Hriskil doesn’t give battle today, he’s already slipped past us and gone for Cumber, to put an end to it.”
I reached across to pat his knee. “He wouldn’t dare, Uncle. We’re too large a force between him and Ghanz.”
Raeth snorted. “He’s troops aplenty to thwart us and besiege Cumber, with careful generalship.” He drew his cloak tighter, despite the warming day.
“I’m glad, though,” Raeth added, “that we fight each for his lord.” We’d decided so in our conference back in Pezar. Lady Soushire’s men would fight under her appointed commander, Groenfil would lead his own. And so for Cumber, and Eiber, and my men of Stryx under Tursel. It made for better discipline, despite my dreams of a united army.
“Fight each for his lord,” I said to Raeth, “or run away each with his lord.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You think that will—”
“After Llewelyn abandoned the Keep, I trust none but you.” After a moment I added, “And Groenfil, I think. He’d tell me to my face, were he to withdraw.”
“That leaves Tantroth and Larissa.”
“Lady Soushire frets that Mar is at her doorstep. As for Tantroth ...” I left it at that. Still, he’d made me a present of my freedom from the White Fruit. Perhaps he’d fight as a vassal ought.
“I worry for Imbar,” said Uncle. “I’m older than I care to admit, and he’s no youngsire. Yet he rides in all weather and makes no complaint.”
I muttered something civil.
“I know you don’t like him, Roddy.” We rode on. “I’d have declared for you without Rustin’s ... sacrifice. It was mischief on Imbar’s part. I was quite put out.”
“That he strayed?”
“That he used meanly a soul as great as Lord Rustin.”
I swallowed.
“There, my boy, I shouldn’t have mentioned it. Think of the banquet we’ll make when this is done. I’ll start with tortoise soup, I think. Do you like shallots? And there’s a trick with roast hare ...” He prattled on, and despite my melancholy, my mouth watered.
Scouts came racing along our line. They’d found the Norlanders moving west, as were we. Hriskil was fleeing before us.
“He is not.” Tantroth was pale. He held a handcloth tightly wrapped, and coughed into it. “He draws us to the ground on which he’d fight.” An aide thrust a cloak over his shoulders. “Thank you, Azar.”
Larissa said, “Shall we turn tail? Let him pursue us.”
Groenfil shook his head. “There’s no suitable ground twixt here and Pineforest, unless you’d fight among the trees.”
“Give chase,” Imbar said, “at sober pace. Don’t commit unless we approve the terrain.”
I had to admit it made sense. And so we formed ourselves into companies, trod onward. Archers marched with full quivers. I rode with one hand on my scabbard, shield over my forearm. Kadar coaxed me into a helmet, but the air was dank and I sweated profusely. After a time I set it aside.
As the sun drifted westward I spurred to the head of our line, where Tursel sat quietly in the saddle. His horse nibbled the grass of a steep ridge overlooking a wide rolling meadow. Rocky hills protected our left. I said, “Here, Captain.”
“We’d hold high ground, but would Hriskil meet us?” He peered round. “Our left’s secure; Norlanders would break arms and legs rushing down that hill. Our right flank is the road, but see where it runs through that stand of trees? If we present our flank at the far edge of the field, Hriskil could come fast on our flank, but he couldn’t spread himself wide.”
We pondered.
“What’s over that hill?” I pointed straight ahead, to a small rise at the far end of the meadow.
Tursel beckoned to the nearest scout, a small, wiry fellow, once of Cumb
er. “Reconnoiter the lay of the land.” He pointed. “Take care.”
The man saluted, galloped down the ridge, across the plain.
“My lord, you shouldn’t tarry at a point of peril.”
“Lord of Nature, Tursel, we can see near half a league in any direction.” The scout shrank steadily as he rode off to the rise.
“Not over those hills to the left, or past the trees alongside the road. Norlanders could be upon us in ...”
“Half an hour. I could crawl back to our troop faster.”
The scout slowed his mount to a trot, worked his way up the rise. Abruptly he reined in, stared downward for a moment, hauled his mount about and raced across the plain. My spine tingled.
It was long moments before he was near enough. “Norlanders! About a thousand. They’ve made a rough camp. Below the rise, the land levels again. There are woods five hundred paces beyond. Their camp’s near the rise. No defenses to speak of.”
“Let’s fall on them!” I leaned forward in the saddle, as if to charge.
“It might be a lure, sire.” To the scout, “Did they see you?”
“I think not.”
“I ought see.” Tursel chewed his lip. “Come with me.” For a breathless moment I thought he meant me, but he spoke to the scout. Together they rode across the plain, leaving me with Kadar.
At the foot of the far rise Tursel dismounted, handed his reins to the scout, trudged slowly up the hill. A good distance from the top he dropped to his knees, began to crawl.
Ever so cautiously he raised his head, gazed intently at the enemy camp.
Kadar said, “Stay back, my lord. If you’re killed, Caledon falls.”
“If I turn coward, who will follow me?”
“Will Hriskil himself lead the Norland charge? Did Danzik?”
“No, and look what happened—” I sighed. “I won’t lead the charge, but I must be seen in battle.”
“Amidst us.” He gestured at his cohort of guards.
“Very well.” I squinted. Tursel hurried down the hill. “Enough. He’s coming. Wait here; they’ll hear your horses!” Alone, I guided Ebon down the ridge, met Tursel in the plain. “What are—”
The King (Rodrigo of Caledon Book 2) Page 18
