“We’ll be riding well past sunset.”
“Midnight, then.” The road twisted around an escarpment festooned with brush and stumps. I patted my gelding encouragingly.
“Groenfil will be frantic.”
“Elryc will tell him, as agreed.” Until nightfall, I was to be indisposed, resting in my chamber.
Dour of mien, Kadar shook his head. “How did you talk me into this?”
“Because else I’d go without you. Because you enjoy the guarding of me.” Poor Pardos; he and five men unknowingly stood guard over my vacant chamber. But if I’d asked his consent, he’d have rounded up the army and galloped us all into the hills. I sighed. Between Kadar and Pardos, a king had no freedom. They were worse than Rustin, when he ...” I pursed my lips.
Yes, it was madness.
But our army was soon to quit Cumber, our future uncertain. If I didn’t seek Tresa now, Lord of Nature knew when our paths would cross. And any fool could read between the lines of her hurried but cautious missive. She’d fled the castle, scarce ahead of Mar. What fate did she dread? I knew not Bouris, but what villainy was beyond Margenthar of Stryx? What refuge had she?
It was past dusk when I found out.
“None, Roddy.” Tresa and I sat before a sputtering fire in a miserable hut I feared might fall on us at any moment. Must all retired nurses live in hovels? The old woman had gone outside to sit on a rock, that we might speak.
“I thought ...” Tresa gazed into the fire. “I have no domain, no lands. So one would think I’m of no value in games of state. But ...” She shot me a glance, looked away.
“Yes, what is it?” My tone was cross; it had been a long ride, and my thighs chafed. Why was she blushing? Why couldn’t she simply say what she meant?
“Margenthar might imagine my well-being has some importance to the king. And if so, t’were best I not be in his grip.” She added quickly, “So as not to trouble you.”
My heart swelled. “Why not flee to Pezar? I’d have shielded you.”
“And give Bouris pretext to condemn you?”
I frowned. “He needs no pretext.”
The corners of her mouth turned up. “Besides, the Eiber Road was well watched.”
“And my protection useless. Tresa, I’ve lost all.”
“Not yet.” She watched my face, in the flickering light. Casually, I leaned my scarred cheek on my palm.
“I’ve lost enough,” I said. “There’s no safety in Cumber. Where might I flee?”
“All through Caledon, men will rally—”
“That’s so only in heralds’ tales. In life, churls melt into fields and haylofts when the king’s man comes. And I’ve no gold for provender, we’re exhausted from—”
“Sire, pardon.” Kadar stuck his head in the sagging doorway. “We must be off.”
“Soon. Wait outside.”
Tresa asked, “Is there gold in Stryx?”
“No doubt Willem’s kept something aside; he’s a chary fellow. But the journey to Stryx bares Cumber, Soushire, Groenfil’s earldom ... think you my nobles would ride past their own lands?”
For a while, she was silent. “Rodrigo, can you abide the loss of Caledon?”
“It seems I must.”
“You won’t ... be desperate? Harm yourself?”
I thought of it. “To save Caledon, yes. Not to mourn its loss.” Was I so sure? Could I stand to become another Freisart of Kant, a king without lands? I shivered. “Not,” I said gamely, “if I had—” I swallowed. “—you.”
“Roddy, why do you cover your cheek?”
“I can’t abide that you see it!” I pressed my hand tighter. “I’m so ugly, a demon couldn’t love me.”
“Not so.”
“Tresa, if somehow I managed a visit to the Warthen of the Sands and arranged a Return ... were I free of this frightful scar, could you see a marr—marri—demons take it!” Cheeks red, I stumbled to my feet, said harshly, “I must go.” I looked about. As was the hut, so the village. “If Hriskil invests Cumber, you’re not safe here.”
“Safer than within Cumber’s walls.”
“I’ve no place to take you. No refuge.”
She said low words.
“What?”
Louder, “My lord, you are my refuge.”
“Oh, Tresa ...” Almost, my heart broke. “Would I were clean-visaged, a man, a king.”
“Sire, we must leave!” Kadar was adamant.
“Stryx,” I said. “It’s all I have to offer. And it may not be safe long. Ride with us until the trail diverges.”
She smiled. “And sleep in your tent?”
“I have no tent. They’ll find place—”
“But, someday, when you put down the Still.”
“What? Yes, I supp—I mean, if your ladyship—it’s ... please don’t laugh!”
She came close, whispered in my ear. “And I’ll teach you to ...”
“WHAT?”
She repeated it.
“Lord of Nature!” How could a gentlewoman speak so? Somehow, I managed not to bolt from the hut. I flung open the door. “Shall we, my lady? Kadar waits.” Casting a nervous glance over my shoulder, I scrambled onto my grazing mount.
Presently, Tresa emerged from the hut, tied her gear behind her saddle, bussed her nurse on both cheeks. “Steady, boy.” I think she spoke to the horse. Demurely, she climbed into the saddle.
The ride to Cumber was nerve-racking. The moon was obscured by clouds; the night was near pitch black. The land sloped downward, which made it all the easier for a horse to slip or slide, or worse, catch a foot in a chuckhole. I peered into the dusk toward Cumber, lest the castle be engulfed in flames. Not that Hriskil would have cause to burn it; the moment we left, Bouris was likely to hand Cumber to him without a fight. What was it Imbar had said of him? He has Raeth’s sense of intrigue, without his subtlety. Poor old Imbar.
What? I blinked, clung to the saddle, my mind awhirl. Rust, forgive me; I didn’t mean to mourn him. He dishonored you. That, I’ll never forget. Imbar is offal, to be dumped into a foul alley. And yet ... Rust, he faced his demons and served me with courage. If I salute him, will you forgive?
I gathered my cloak; the wind was chill.
We came over a rise, and the castle loomed in the valley. It was an anthill; men swarmed in the courtyard, up and down stairs to the great hall. Here and there drizzle dampened the night. Torches on the battlements whipped to and fro in the gust.
Tresa said, “Rodrigo, Bouris will ... be displeased.”
“He need not know I brought you home. Kadar, there is a decent inn on the street of the potsellers.”
“Yes, my lord?”
“Secure Tresa a room and bring her to it well-cloaked. Tomorrow, before we go, you’ll escort her to our wagons.”
“Aye, my lord. I’ll send two of our lot.”
“Hurry. I’d know she’s safe before we meet Bouris.”
Wind whipped dust about the courtyard as we rode through the gate. I kept myself hooded and my head low. On an unfamiliar horse, perhaps none would know it was I. A groomsman ran to seize my reins: Bollert. He muttered, “Trouble inside. Lord be angry.”
“Bouris? I care not.” I strode to the steps.
“No. The other.”
Rain splashed my cloak as I reached for the door. I forced it open against a contrary gust of wind; the handle nearly flew from my grasp.
A footman bowed; I handed him my cloak. A slim figure rose from the tower stair. Elryc.
I wiped my face, sipped from the watered wine someone handed me.
“Hurry, before we meet Bouris.” Elryc urged me up the steps.
“It’s his castle, we can’t avoid—”
“Be quick.” Elryc prodded me to a chamber on the second floor. A knock. “Do your best, Roddy. He’s really—”
The door flew open. “I said no ... oh. You!” Lord Groenfil paced the chamber. Behind him, mauve drapery swirled. He snapped, “We’ve nothing to discuss!”
“You’re my liege; I cannot speak freely.”
I shut the oaken door behind me. “You have leave.”
“Have I?” Groenfil regarded me coldly. “Have I?” He picked up a bronze wineglass, studied it, hurled it at the wall. It clattered across the flagstones. “Imbecile!”
I gaped. Even though I’d given him leave, that was unseemly.
“Leaving the castle, deserting your army, riding into the hills on a lark! Our domains, our very lives are in your hands! I grieve the day I swore your service!”
“My lord—”
The shutters banged shut, as if in a gale. “Know you the damage you’ve done? Where’s Hriskil?”
“I don’t know.”
Groenfil stalked closer, halting only when we stood nose to nose. “That’s, right, you don’t know! What if we were besieged, and you cut off from—”
“I judged they wouldn’t reach—”
“A forced march, and they’d be on us before dawn. Did you ask Tantroth his whereabouts?”
I shook my head. He knew I had not.
“Did you command our withdrawal?”
“No, but—”
“Is Cumber Castle fit for a siege?”
“I don’t know.” The admission shamed me.
“It’s your obligation to know! You’re our king! But you sneak off, as if dodging a tutor’s lessons! You—you child!”
I gulped.
“All without our counsel. And if the injury were not enough, you charge your baby brother with telling me. Why? BECAUSE YOU’RE A LOVESICK CALF!” His bellow echoed off the walls.
I made a shushing gesture. “Bouris will hear!”
“Imps take Bouris of Cumber! He’s a knave, a traitor, a dishonest fool!”
That tore it. Now we’d have blood feud. “I had an—an errand that couldn’t wait.”
“Oh, I know of your errand. Are you sated, youngsire? Are you yet fit to wield the Still?”
My face burned bright. “Yes!”
“How can I know you didn’t rut with her?”
“I swear it!”
“I repeat, how can I know?”
“Sir ...” My jerkin was damp with sweat. “I may be foolish, but never have I given cause to doubt my word.”
“Never?” Hands on hips, he glared. “Well, perhaps not.” He stalked across the room, stooped for the dented cup, set it roughly onto a plank table. “You’re a callow dimwit, a dunce, but an honest dunce. Gahrr!” His fingers made a twisting motion, as if grasping my throat. “Your very cause hangs in the balance this night; we must hold counsel and set our path. But no, you gallop off to your lover. If you were my son ...”
I braced myself. “For the night, I obey you as a son.”
He seized my chin, forced my eyes to his. “You mean that?”
“Yes, my lord.” To my shame, my voice quavered.
Slowly, the howling wind calmed. “Ah, Roddy.” He released me, paced from wall to window. “You vex us.”
“Us?”
“Me. Tantroth, Larissa. No doubt Bouris too.”
“I’m sorry, my lord. Tresa fled when Uncle Mar—”
“Yes, to Certha. Clever of her. It denied Mar a hostage he’d certainly have sought. But it irked Bouris.”
“As you said, a knave.”
“What matter, if his men shouldered arms with us?”
“May I sit?” My knees were weak. I sank into the chair by the fire. “Sir, you know Caledon. If I told the lords my errand, Bouris would know, and she’d be in peril. Did you know he had her courier killed? I feared ...”
“Rodrigo, do you fight for Tresa, or Caledon?”
“Must I choose?”
“Do we risk death for you, or her?” He ceased his pacing. “Well?”
“For me, sir.” That I deserved his rebuke made the humiliation no less.
“Then you must preserve yourself for our cause. Even if it costs your Tresa.”
“I cannot!”
“Youngsire, you cannot be king_ and do other. You owe it not to yourself, but us.” He held my gaze until I was forced to look away.
“You likewise owe us candor. Henceforth, Roddy, your nobles’ disapproval must be met, not ignored or evaded. Will you agree to this?”
“I swear by—”
“No grandiose oaths! A simple promise, boy to man.” He hesitated, then muttered, “Son to father.”
“I promise, sir!” My eyes stung.
“Where is she?”
“I’ll ... please don’t ask that.”
Groenfil bent to my ear. He breathed, “The inn?”
Almost imperceptibly, I nodded.
“Probably wise. Have you had refreshment?”
“Not since ...”
“Don’t, unless Anavar brings it to you, from me.”
I looked up, startled, “Is our host that foolish?”
“Perhaps not.”
I drew myself together. “What now, my lord?”
“Council, sire. All of us.”
“How do we ...” I lowered my voice. “Hide it from Bouris?”
His smile was grim. “We don’t. He’s invited.”
On the way to the great hall, I mulled it over. I suspected his including Bouris made sense. Ears would be pressed to spyholes; Bouris would inevitably learn of our deliberations. So, let him take part. Force him to commit before us all.
As we strode in, Anavar slipped alongside me. “My lord earl didn’t run you through?”
I glanced back, to Groenfil. “He was ... irked.”
“I had no chance to warn you. Sir, there’ll be refreshments ... the flagon with the flowered intaglio is safe. Genard’s eye is on it. The others know.”
I nodded thanks.
“I can’t vouch for the meats. The bread’s ours.”
Deep in the night, we met in council.
Bouris ceded head of table; after all, I was king. He took the foot, as if in opposition. Foolish man, to declare himself so.
“If I may ...” Bouris seized the lead. “Now Tursel’s finally home—with our men—we might withstand siege. I offer you refuge.”
“Why, thank you.” My tone was exquisitely courteous. On which dark night would the gates be thrown open while I slept? “I rejoice in your loyalty. What supplies have you?”
Wells flowed inside the courtyard; I knew that from Tantroth’s siege, a year past. At the moment, Cumber’s granaries were half full, but there was no more than two fortnights’ fodder for the animals. As to weaponry ... I half listened. It mattered not; I had no intent to barricade myself at Cumber. We were opposed by too many Norlanders, too well armed. The castle would fall.
I asked, “My lord Tantroth, when may we expect Hriskil?”
A tight grin. “His advance guard? By morn. But to arrive in strength ... he must first rebuild the bridge we burned at Miller’s Ford.”
Bouris bristled. “My bridge? At my village?”
“Why yes, my lord, it was a merry blaze. They won’t want to wade the stream; my men busied themselves with axes the whole day, and the riverbed’s a jumble of jagged logs, stumps, branches. It will be a time before the Norlanders cross.” He considered. “Dusk on the morrow, I’d say.”
The lord of Cumber spat on his polished flagstone floor. “Tell him, Rodrigo, that bridges run both ways. That we’ll have no more ease crossing north than Hriskil crossing south. That—”
Tantroth rasped, “I was fending off raiders when you were damp sperm in your father’s—”
“Yes, my lord. Point taken. And yours, Bouris.” I might sound placating, but not to both at the instant. I took deep breath. “A necessity of war. You’ll be compensated.”
“By the crown?” Cumber’s sarcasm was labored. “Oh, I am reassured. Your treasury is so vast.”
“But I’ll esteem the subsidy you’ll grant this day.” I might be—what had Groenfil called me?—imbecile, dunce, dimwit, but imps would dance on my nightshi
rt before I’d allow such insolence in the presence of my lords assembled.
Bouris was wise enough to swallow his rejoinder. Perhaps he realized that at the moment I had more men in Cumber man he.
We went round the table. Lady Soushire pointed out the advantages of accepting siege: sturdy defense walls at hand, union of our force with Cumber’s, a civilized base and so on.
Groenfil was restrained in his reply, though I deduced he preferred to fight where he might defend his own domain, and Larissa’s. I, a lovesick calf? He exceeded twice my age and fawned upon the lady like ...” I sighed. Perhaps, when I set down the Still, such mysteries would be revealed.
Tantroth spoke of the marvelous opportunities we were offered: we could melt into the hills and harass the Norlanders without mercy. He, for one, was experienced in the conduct of such a campaign.
Elryc, sitting at my right, said simply that we should go on, that Caledon wanted rallying, and we couldn’t do it from here.
Anavar advised ... well, I wasn’t sure what Anavar intended to say. Tantroth fixed him in an implacable glare, and my ward was reduced to mumbles and shrugs that signified naught. Pink-cheeked, he subsided with a muttered apology.
I turned to Tursel, but before he could utter a word, Bouris slammed the table with a gloved fist. “I alone speak for Cumber.”
“Would you mind?” Larissa’s tone was ice. She dabbed at spilled wine with a serving cloth.
I said mildly, “I’d care to hear his views.”
“But I would not, and I’m his liege.” To Tursel, contemptuously, “And no royal upstart shall say otherwise.”
For a moment, I was speechless. What was Bouris’s aim? Was giving offense an end in itself? It mattered not. “I, Rodrigo, king, do arrest your person. My lord Groenfil, take hold of—”
Bouris shouted, “On what charge?”
“Slander of the royal court. Public disparagement of the sovereign.” It didn’t matter; I suspected he knew even less law man I.
“Rodrigo ...” Lady Soushire’s pudgy hands fluttered. “Surely it’s not neces—”
“Cumber is my domain! You may not depose me!”
“No, I must keep a foolish promise to your father. Cumber must be yours forever, though it cost my crown. An earl you remain, but I seize you until my pleasure.”
The King (Rodrigo of Caledon Book 2) Page 33
