The Eyes of a King

by Catherine Banner

  Moving slowly, I fetched a shawl for her and helped her wash the mud from her face. Father Dunstan made more tea and he and Grandmother talked quietly. I sat in silence and watched my own hands shaking. “I have to go,” said Father Dunstan eventually, taking out his watch. “I was on my way to see a very sick child. I don’t want to leave you like this, but I have no choice.” In the half darkness of the room, he caught my eyes briefly, as if to tell me something. “You will be all right?” he said, turning to Grandmother.

  “Aye, of course,” she said. “I feel fine now, Father. I don’t know what happened, but I’m sure it is nothing to be anxious about.” But I could hear her voice quavering.

  “Take care of your grandmother,” he said, putting his hand on my shoulder for a moment. And then he left.

  We sat in silence, without looking at each other. My hands were shaking worse than ever. “Leo, Leo,” said Grandmother then, trying to take them in hers. “Don’t be afraid. It’s all right now. I am myself again. It was just those soldiers.”

  It was not fear that was making my hands tremble and my heart beat fast. I thought I could see the room growing darker in front of my eyes. I could tell suddenly that I was going to do something like I had before—throw a chair through the window or hit my head against the wall. But Grandmother was so weak and frightened; I was terrified of shocking her again. I thought that if I sat still and kept my eyes closed, I would be safe. I willed myself not to move.

  The lamp went out. I didn’t dare to get up, so we sat in darkness. I could hear Grandmother’s breathing—deliberate and irregular, as though she had to think about it—but nothing else. And then there was a sudden bang at the door.

  Grandmother tried to get up. I raised my hand to stop her from moving. “Go and answer the door, Leo,” she said weakly. “Please go. It must be Father Dunstan back again.”

  I forced myself to go to the door. “Hurry,” said someone outside. It was not Father Dunstan’s voice. Light showed under the door, flickering strangely. I struggled with the catch, then got it open.

  Outside was a soldier with a burning torch in his hand. He stood close enough that I could feel the heat on my face. “Good evening,” he said. “Are you the main occupant of these premises?” I didn’t answer. He smirked faintly and went on. “An Unacceptable has been traced to this address. I am here to bring you the warrant for her arrest and detainment under the Unacceptable Classes Act Clause 24.”

  He handed me a folded sheet of paper. It fell through my fingers. He shrugged and went on with his recitation. “Soldiers will arrive in the next few days to collect her and take her to an appropriate center. You are advised that—”

  Behind me, Grandmother started to cry. She was sobbing loudly, rocking back and forth, her face in her hands. The soldier raised his torch and took in the mud in her hair, her filthy nightdress, and the dark, shabby room. Then he laughed and shook his head. “Poor old bitch. This is life, eh?”

  “I’ll kill you,” I said out loud.

  He raised his eyebrows and gave me a jovial punch on the shoulder. “Just try it.”

  There was a silence while we stared at each other. I clenched my fists until my knuckles burned with pain. “Leo, come away from the door …,” Grandmother was murmuring.

  “Thank you for your cooperation,” said the soldier, turning to leave.

  I swayed in the doorway and tried to remain still. Then I could not. I pushed him against the wall, then snatched the torch from his hand and threw it hard down the stairs. Next thing, I had hold of his shirt as if to strangle him. I stumbled on that rifle in the doorway, and I suddenly had it in my hand, trying to bring it down on his head, but he caught my arm. My heartbeat was thumping in my forehead; he was swearing; Grandmother behind us was crying out, her voice high and frightened. “Leo, stop!” someone else was shouting then, trying to separate us. And then louder, “Don’t hurt Anselm! Don’t hurt Anselm!”

  I collapsed onto my knees. There was blood on my forehead; he must have hit me. Maria had separated us. She was kneeling in front of me now, in her nightdress, the baby screaming in her arms. The soldier was hurrying away down the stairs.

  “I heard noises, and I came to see,” Maria was gasping. “Leo, I didn’t want you to get into bad trouble; you looked like you were going to kill him. Who was that man? What did he want?”

  She reached for my hand. I did not want her to touch me. I staggered away from her, still shaking. I was frightening myself now but I could not help it. I got up and ran down the stairs, struggling with the safety catch on that rifle. I could still hear Grandmother sobbing, and Maria was calling after me to come back. At the bottom I tripped and crashed down hard on the floor. I staggered to my feet again. I pulled open the front door and ran out into the alley.

  The street was empty. The soldier had gone.

  I fired a shot anyway, into the silence. Then I fell down in the alley and rested my head in my hands.

  “What was that?” said Lucien, on the balcony. The distant gunshot had sent a bird snapping through the treetops of the roof garden below.

  “A troublemaker in the city,” said Talitha. “The law enforcement will be there, no doubt.”

  Lucien nodded, but his eyes had darkened. The others stood in silence and watched him. Ahira was a short way off, frowning into the night. Darius and Anna had just come out onto the battlements, unnoticed. Cannons pointed into the starlit sky from this highest balcony, and Anna glanced at them now. Darius stepped forward. “The girl, Your Majesty. You sent for her.”

  Lucien turned. Talitha remained where she stood, her back to the others so that Anna could not see her face.

  Lucien took a couple of steps toward Anna. “You do not have the silver eagle?” he said. “Not on your person, here in Malonia.”

  “No,” Anna said. Lucien stared at her for a moment. Then he muttered something to Talitha, and she turned to look at Anna.

  Anna was startled. Ryan had said that Talitha had been in the secret service for thirty years with Aldebaran, but that was not possible. This woman was young—perhaps only thirty—a beautiful woman with very red lips and dark eyelashes. She did not look like someone trained in magic. She did not stand resigned and wise either; she put her arm about Lucien’s shoulder and ran her mouth idly over the side of his face, and he pressed his face into her neck as he talked.

  Talitha replied, in a low voice. Anna started suddenly. She had thought that something was inside her head. A spider was crawling inside her skull, over everything that she had ever thought or felt. Talitha was staring at her strangely. Anna tried to look away and think of nothing, but she could not do it; she could not look away.

  “She does not have the necklace …,” whispered Talitha to Lucien. Then she lowered her voice still further so that no one else could hear. The others waited. Ahira glanced at Anna briefly, then turned and looked out over the silent city.

  “What if the girl has not actually given the jewel to Cassius?” said Lucien.

  “What if?” said Talitha. “It will make no difference. The necklace is what is important. The gift means nothing. This is science.” She paused. “One interesting thing though, Sire. This girl is not irrelevant. She is an English relative of Aldebaran’s.”

  “What does this mean?” said Lucien. “That we can hold her as a hostage? To make Aldebaran give up the silver eagle? You mean to say torture …”

  Talitha went on muttering, and Lucien nodded at everything she said. Then he turned to Anna and considered her for a moment. “It is regrettable, but there is no other course that we can take. We cannot kill Cassius; the silver eagle is hidden and we do not have time to retrieve it by any other means.”

  “I will communicate with Aldebaran,” said Talitha. “I will give him half an hour. Long enough to panic; not long enough to think. After that, we can kill the girl anyway and nothing will be lost.” She turned to the two soldiers. “Tie that girl up.”

  Darius hurried away down the stairs to fetch
ropes, then appeared again and tied Anna’s hands and feet, smirking. “Do that carefully!” Talitha said suddenly. Darius stopped where he was, still winding the rope around Anna’s ankles. “This girl is a close relative of a very powerful man,” said Talitha.

  Lucien turned to her. “Does she have powers? This English girl?”

  Talitha glanced at Anna again. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, she does.” Then she looked away. “One of you, keep your rifle trained on her.”

  Darius swung his rifle off his shoulder and raised it, then pretended to fire a shot with a quick laugh.

  “I will do it,” said Ahira, putting his hand on the gun. “You are supposed to be at the border, and it will take you the night to get there.”

  Darius stared at Ahira for a moment, then shoved him hard with his shoulder. Ahira grabbed the rifle, and at the same moment there was a gunshot. The bullet ricocheted off the castle wall. Ahira wrested the gun from Darius’s grip. “Go to the border,” he said firmly. He put the gun back into the soldier’s hands, flat, but stood between him and Anna. Darius looked to Lucien.

  “Go,” said Lucien. “Ahira will come later with me. You are needed there.”

  “But surely, it will only take—”

  “Go! Stop arguing and go!”

  Darius disappeared through the doorway, muttering, and clattered away down the stone staircase. Silence fell. “Aldebaran,” said Talitha into the silence.

  “Can he hear you?” whispered Lucien.

  In England, in the dark library beside the lake, the great Aldebaran started and looked up. The rising wind and the waves of the lake had called his name.

  Lucien paced up and down the balcony. “What is Aldebaran doing?” he said after a while.

  “I cannot tell,” said Talitha. “I will send troops to the ruined chapel at midnight. If Aldebaran is there, they will take the silver eagle from him.”

  There was silence again on the balcony. Anna’s eyes were fixed on Ahira. He glanced at Talitha, then turned to Anna and mouthed something about ropes. She tried to pull her hands free, and he gave a quick nod.

  The ropes had been tight enough to cut her wrists, but they were loosening now. She concentrated her mind on them and the knots slid outward. Then Talitha turned. “I will tighten those,” she said.

  Anna started to gasp but could not breathe in. The ropes were tightening about her wrists and ankles, but not just the ropes: the air was suddenly tightening around her as well. Her heart was thudding strangely, first in her head, then in her chest, then in her stomach. She could not breathe, and she felt the air crushing her bones. Her chest was stabbing with pain. She fell sideways onto the floor, the air pressing down on her as heavy as steel.

  Then Talitha turned away, and Anna was lying in the dust, gasping in air again and shivering. “Aldebaran cares about his family,” Talitha said. “Fifteen minutes he has now. I think this will work.”

  “Is it really necessary to torture a young girl, Talitha?” began Lucien. “I mean to say—” Talitha raised her hand, and he fell silent.

  “Where are you going?” demanded Ryan as Aldebaran ran down the stairs.

  “The chapel. Stay in the house.”

  Ryan rubbed his bandaged head and got up, though the room swayed in front of him when he did it. “Uncle, you will not tell me what is happening. Tell me about Anna; is she safe? Please—”

  “I have no time. I have to go. Stay here.”

  Ryan grabbed Aldebaran’s arm, running after him into the dark. He swayed then, and Aldebaran caught hold of him to stop him from falling. “Go back to the house. Now, Ryan!”

  “Tell me why you are going to the chapel.”

  “I can’t tell you. Ryan, if you don’t let me go—” Something fell from Aldebaran’s hand and landed, glittering, on the grass. There was a silence.

  “That is the silver eagle,” said Ryan. “Uncle, I don’t understand what you are doing.”

  Across the lake, the church clock chimed twelve.

  Talitha, on the balcony, shook her head. “Aldebaran has not come?” said Lucien.

  “I was not sure,” said Talitha. “Aldebaran does not care enough about his family, perhaps.” She turned to survey Anna. “We have lost nothing. But we will have to kill this girl anyway. He will have his resistance people here storming the castle if he thinks there is a chance that she can be rescued. We cannot give him time to think. I will go down and tell them to call the troops back from the church. I will be back here in a few minutes.”

  Lucien turned to Ahira. “Untie her and stand her against that wall.”

  “I will take her down to the yard,” said Ahira, untying Anna’s ankles and wrists. “I will do it there. Or perhaps we should not be so hasty. Perhaps we should hold her in a cell for another night.”

  “No! We have no time; you heard what Talitha said. Aldebaran could use this to provoke the people to revolution—a noble cause, rescuing the prince’s true love. We must finish this and assemble the army at once. Do you not understand?” There was more than a trace of panic in Lucien’s voice. “The enemies among us have been in contact with him for months. The army uncovered one of their bases today, with stacks of communications, detailed plans. We are on the brink of revolution. The boy must not return. We have to stop Aldebaran’s words from being fulfilled. It’s not enough to go into hiding and kill him when he gets here. We will never get power back once we have lost it. We have to show them that there is no future except for King Lucien. Shoot the girl quickly. Let us do what we can about this problem, and then turn to the Alcyrians.”

  Ahira took a pistol from his belt and aimed it at Anna’s head. Lucien turned to look out over the balcony again. She opened her mouth to speak but she could not. Ahira looked straight into her eyes for a moment. Then she shut them.

  Stumbling through the dark forest, Aldebaran heard the gunshot and fell to his knees. Ryan ran up to him, catching hold of his arm again. “What is it? Uncle, what is it?” And Aldebaran turned to say that he had told Ryan to go back to the house, but he could no longer speak.

  Anna opened her eyes. Lucien, silhouetted on the balcony, fell to the floor.

  His blood was running over the stones, toward her feet; she clasped her hand to her mouth and could not move. Ahira lowered the gun and turned back to her. “Don’t speak.” His voice was shaking. He grabbed Anna and pushed her through the door.

  They stumbled out of control down the staircase. “Talitha will know,” Ahira said. “Soon, she will know. Run fast and stay with me.”

  They raced through the dark corridors and stairways of the castle, whipping up the flames of sleeping torches as they passed. Ahira kept one hand on her shoulder, the pistol still raised in his other. At the side door, he paused and surveyed the empty yard.

  Somewhere high above them, someone cried out suddenly—at first a shout, then a wail that did not fade in the night air. “Run,” said Ahira. “Stay with me. That is her; that is Talitha.”

  He pushed her toward the stables. “Smith!” he called out to the nearest soldier. “Get me a horse, quickly.”

  The man was barely older than Anna, with sunburn peeling on his nose. He fetched a horse and put the reins into Ahira’s hand, bowing slightly. Ahira swung Anna up onto the horse and climbed on behind her. He bent to speak to the man. “The king is dead,” he said. “Alert your people. Alert your revolutionaries.” The man stared at him, raising his hands as though he was afraid. Then Ahira kicked the horse into a gallop and they were at the gates. “That boy is with the resistance,” said Ahira. “I have been watching him for a long time. He will tell the right people.”

  There were shouts as they turned from the gate onto the road, and gunshots from the windows above. The ground burst with bullets around them. The horse skittered sideways as it turned the corner, and Anna was looking suddenly over the edge of the rock face. But it scrambled back into a gallop and went on. Then there was shouting, closer, and hooves were rapidly leaving the yard above them. Anna was
slipping on the horse’s back. “All right,” said Ahira, throwing one arm around her waist. “Listen, believe that the bullets will miss. You have powers; you can protect us. Please.” He shouted at the horse and it galloped faster. Then they were in the town and sheltered for a moment from the falling bullets. A crowd of people leapt out of their way as they passed.

  Ahira directed the horse into a narrow street, without letting go of Anna’s waist. It stumbled and lurched forward, and her heart jumped, but Ahira did not let her fall. The noise behind was suddenly growing fainter. “When we get to the church,” Ahira muttered, “don’t look back at me; just go. Leave me to whatever comes. All right?”

  After I stumbled down the stairs, I remained in the alleyway and could not get up. Maria came down, and Grandmother, but I did not move. “Leo, you are shaking,” said Grandmother. “You are not well. Tell me what it is.” The baby screamed. I sat there with my eyes closed and would not answer them, though they came down several times.

  “We will be upstairs,” said Maria eventually. “I understand if you want to stay by yourself, Leo.” And they left me there in the silence.

  I was trying to force myself to stay still until I was calm. I managed it for a long time; it felt like hours had passed while I sat motionless. But then I had to do something. I had to, otherwise I would go insane. Hot tears were burning in my eyes. I wanted to find that soldier. Or anyone. I did not care anymore. I could feel my hands shaking as though they were someone else’s, and hear my heart beating like a stranger’s heart. It made me frightened, but I went on. I stumbled out into the street.

  People began surging past me. They were as far away as ghosts. “Revolution! Revolution!” they were chanting. One of them tried to pull me along with them, but I pushed him away. Then they were gone, and again the street was silent.

  My heart had turned cold. I hated everything suddenly—the dark street around me and those people who had passed, the castle on the rock above, the blue flags flying, and every one of the soldiers. The soldiers most of all. I fell down in the mud of the alley again and pressed my face to the ground. I tried to drown myself. I really did. I was so angry that I could not go on living without doing something terrible. But I thought that if I lay there long enough, it might still be all right.