Navarin, Thunder and Shade

by William Stafford

  “St - step any closer,” the last robber standing stammered, “and the posh git gets it.” He waved his knife in the direction of the Duke’s throat.

  Broad stayed where he was but Shade felt under no obligation. He swooped in the air and, for a second, the robber discerned a man-shaped patch of black against the night’s deep blue. The man-shape pounced on him from on high. The robber hit the ground, struggling briefly before lying still forever.

  The Duke gasped and stepped cautiously over the bodies.

  “I don’t know what you did, young man, but-” He had intended to shake his saviour by the hand but, out of the alley where there was a little more moonlight, he frowned as he recognised the face, and took his hand away. “I know you!” he pointed a finger. “Shouldn’t you be locked up in the palace?”

  “Um,” Broad turned red and looked at his feet.

  “This is awkward,” admitted the Duke. “By rights, I should be locked up in the palace myself. In a way. Oh, well. I won’t tell if you won’t.”

  Broad frowned. The Duke laughed.

  “Listen, old boy. I don’t know how you got out - and frankly, I don’t want to know - but I’m damned happy you did. I’d have been skewered seven ways to Sunday by now. And then, imagine the scandal! Duke’s body found robbed and stripped in a miserable alley! You have saved me from a worse fate than you perhaps realise.”

  “Er...” said Broad.

  “And that is why,” the Duke clapped a hand on one of those broad shoulders, “I shall issue a decree, pardoning you of all charges against you. And furthermore, I am offering you a job as my new bodyguard. What do you say? - Before you answer, I must advise you that the former is dependent on your acceptance of the latter.”

  Broad’s frown deepened.

  “Work for him or go back to gaol,” said Shade, coiling around Broad like a snake of smoke. The Duke was taken aback.

  “Who - or what is that?”

  “That’s my friend,” said Broad. “We come as a pair.”

  The Duke paled. “I think you had better tell me all about him,” he said, keeping his eyes averted from the shadowy creature. “As you escort me back to the palace.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” said Broad, dipping in a curtsey.

  “Oh, blimey,” said Shade. He thinned out and poured himself into the ring. The Duke was astounded.

  “It’s a bit complicated,” said Broad with a hint of apology in his tone.

  “We don’t have to walk fast,” said the Duke. “I’m listening.”

  ***

  Broad woke up the following morning in a comfortable if modestly furnished room. He was in an apartment adjacent to the Duke’s own, accommodation formerly occupied by Marmellion’s nanny until her services were no longer required.

  He hitched himself up onto his elbows and looked around. Funny how things change, he marvelled, scratching his bare chest. He swung his legs out of the bed and padded across the rug - a rug! - to the glazed ceramic receptacle in the corner. Pissing into the pot, he reflected how far up he had come in the world overnight. Indoor facilities! This was the height of posh as far as he was concerned.

  Ordinarily, he would have done it out of a window.

  He became aware that Shade was watching. “Do you mind?” he shook himself off.

  “Not in the slightest,” Shade smirked. “It’s good for me to study the human form so I can replicate it.”

  Unconvinced, Broad pulled on his leggings and jerkin. He held out his hand with the ring open. “Time for beddy-bye,” he teased. “You pervert.”

  Shade stuck out a tongue of steam and launched himself into the ring with such force Broad was staggered. He put the ring to his mouth. “And thanks for not wishing me luck on my first day.”

  He stood at the door that linked his rooms to the Duke’s. I don’t know what I’m doing, he admitted to himself. I am totally out of my depth. I could make a total prat of myself here.

  He cleared his throat and reached for the door handle and was wrong-footed as the Duke burst in.

  “Ah, good!” the Duke looked him up and down. “You’re up. And dressed - after a fashion. I shall have to arrange for you to have something more suitable. Come on! Your first duty is breakfast.”

  The youth looked downcast. “I can’t cook.”

  The Duke laughed and slapped his new employee on the upper arm. “That’s rich! You don’t have to cook, my dear boy; you just have to stand behind me. You know, in case anyone’s outside the window with a crossbow.”

  “Oh!” Broad grinned. “Is that likely?”

  “You never know,” the Duke shrugged. “One tries to do one’s best, be a fair and just ruler but there’s a hard lesson one learns pretty damned quickly in this game: you can’t please everyone. There is always someone with a grievance.”

  “I suppose,” said Broad. He had never really thought about the downside to being a Duke.

  “On this occasion, it being your first day, I’ll lead,” said the Duke. “But from tomorrow, I expect you to know the way to the breakfast room.”

  “Um, yes.”

  The Duke nodded in mock deference and ushered his new bodyguard through the door.

  ***

  The Duke sat at the head of the breakfast table with Broad standing between his chair and the window. It occurred, even to Broad’s slow mind, that a simple rearrangement of the furniture would increase His Grace’s safety - and the bodyguard’s to boot!

  It also occurred to him not to mention this innovation lest it put him out of a job and out of His Grace’s favour.

  The youth stood to attention when the doors were opened by footmen to admit a goddess! A raven-haired vision slinked in, wearing a dress of deepest indigo, the cut of which accentuated all her curves.

  “Good morning, my dear!” the Duke lifted his backside from his seat until his wife had placed her more-rounded one on hers.

  “What’s he staring at?” Carith Drombo nodded at the young man gawping at her from behind her husband’s chair.

  The Duke chuckled. “He is merely captivated by your beauty, my dear. As I was when first I saw you. And indeed continue to be.”

  “That’s understandable,” she smirked. “But who the hell is he and what’s he doing in our breakfast room?”

  “He’s Broad Shoulders.”

  “I can see that; what’s his name?”

  “That is his name. Apparently, it’s the custom where he comes from to-”

  Carith cut him off with an impatient gesture. “Get to the point.”

  “He’s my new bodyguard.”

  Carith arched an eyebrow and appraised the youth anew. “Is he indeed? I hope you’re paying him well.” She raised her goblet in a toast. “Welcome, Broad Shoulders. May you be in your job for a long, long time.”

  The youth blushed. He is very handsome, Carith observed. Oh, if I were a single girl... But then again, I shall be soon...

  The footmen opened the doors again to admit a young woman holding the hand of a little boy. If Carith Drombo had seemed a goddess then Gonda the goose girl was the next thing up from that - although what was better than a goddess, Broad couldn’t say. Perhaps there was a queen of goddesses or a super-goddess or something. Well, whatever you called it, there she was, right in front of him, fresh-faced and furthermore, roughly his age and furthermore seemingly as ill-at-ease and out-of-place in the palace as he was.

  “Come in, come in, child!” Carith beckoned the girl in. She indicated a place by her side and then instructed the footmen to pile a chair next to Gonda’s high with cushions so the boy could reach the table.

  Something sank in Broad’s insides as he was reminded Gonda had a child.

  But even this knowledge did not tarnish her in his eyes. This is my damsel, he realised, and the mom
ent she needs rescuing from distress, I’m ready.

  Gonda seemed more nervous than distressed, as she was served fresh fruit and steamed fish by men with haughty expressions and powdered wigs. Carith remonstrated with her, not unkindly, reminding her there was no need to thank the servants. It was not the done thing, apparently.

  Gonda picked at her food with a fork, separating the flesh of the fish from its skeleton.

  “Did you sleep well?” Carith asked brightly.

  “Passably,” said the girl in a quiet voice. “The room is lovely.”

  “And you, poppet?” Carith addressed the little boy. “Do you like your new cot?”

  Tiggy ignored the question. He sat staring at nothing, like a cat.

  “Actually,” said Gonda, “he wouldn’t stay in it. Too many bad memories, I suppose. It was in a cot I found him. In that house fire.”

  Something in Broad’s insides leapt. The child was not hers! That’s right - her dad had said so. Broad felt... encouraged, he supposed it was.

  “Lucky for him you came along,” said Carith. “You’re a very lucky boy, Piggy.”

  “Tiggy!” cried Gonda.

  “Tiggy,” Carith repeated carefully. She watched the placid, inscrutable child with a smile on her face. For his part, Tiggy ignored her and everyone else completely.

  Gonda kept looking at the doors. Which remained shut.

  “Are you expecting someone?”

  “My dad,” said Gonda. “I haven’t seen him since yesterday.”

  “Oh, that’s right!” Carith made a show of hitting herself on the forehead. “I should have told you last night. Your father has gone. He said something about throwing someone off your tracks - if that makes any sense to you?”

  “Oh,” said Gonda. It sounded like something Glenward would do: lead her pursuers off on a wild goose girl chase. “I wish he’d said goodbye,” she slumped.

  “It was a matter of some urgency,” said Carith. “But I gave him some money to help with his expenses. I am sure he is all right.”

  “Thanks,” Gonda muttered, not so sure herself. If men from the village were still out to get her, there was no telling what they might do to her poor old dad.

  Carith smacked her own forehead again to change the subject. “Where is my head today? Darling!” she called to the Duke at the far end of the table, “Here am I, wittering on and you have yet to have your peppered eggs!”

  The Duke sat back and patted his belly. “Oh, that’s quite all right, my dear. I’m quite full.”

  Carith pouted and sulked. She rose from the table. “Nonsense! You always have my peppered eggs every day.” She addressed the others. “Every morning, you see, since we were married, I make it my task to prepare him a dish of peppered eggs. It’s our little tradition; isn’t it, darling?”

  “Well, yes,” said the Duke, “but I really couldn’t eat another morsel.”

  “Rubbish!” Carith laughed. She swooped to the sideboard and retrieved a small covered bowl. She placed it before the Duke and whipped away the lid.

  “Honestly, darling, I couldn’t,” the Duke turned his face away. His wife leaned her face towards his.

  “Honestly, darling,” she said through gritted teeth, “let’s not have a row in front of company.” She smiled at Broad. “Honestly, anyone would think I was trying to poison him!”

  An idea lit up the Duke’s expression. “Broad! In your role as my protector, it is your bounden duty to sample any food put before me. Perhaps I ought to have mentioned that before but it has only occurred to me now.” He proffered a fork. Broad took it, uncomfortably aware that the goddess was scowling at him.

  “All this while,” she said with a venomous sneer, “you have been eating my peppered eggs without qualm. Do you doubt me, my dearest love?”

  “Oh, no!” the Duke laughed. “It’s just that the boy needs practice. Tuck in, boy!”

  Nervously, Broad scooped up the tiniest amount of the pale, yellow slop speckled with dots of black. He put it to his mouth and tasted. All eyes were upon him - even Tiggy’s.

  “Mmm,” Broad made appreciative noises. “Those are good eggs. The pepper gives them a real kick.”

  “You see!” cried Carith Drombo. “Hasn’t dropped down dead, has he?” She snatched the fork from the young man’s grasp and slapped it on the table in front of her husband. Declaring she had never been so insulted, she stormed out of the room.

  “Oh dear,” the Duke blushed, embarrassed in front of his guests. “I am sorry you had to witness that. I had better polish them off, what!”

  He took up the fork and wolfed the peppered eggs. Then, without further word, snatched up the bowl and ran from the room to show his wife what a good boy he was.

  Broad dithered, uncertain whether to follow his employer to protect him from the wrath of the goddess. Gonda caught his eye. She smiled.

  “All this food,” she gestured at the table and the room in general. “You may as well have some. It’ll only go to waste otherwise.”

  Tentatively, Broad took a seat opposite hers. She offered him a sausage. Broad was aware the little boy was looking at him. He stuck out his tongue; Tiggy didn’t blink. “Does he always stare like that?”

  “It means he likes you. He remembers you from the gaol, I expect.”

  While he ate, she chatted. “It’s a bit much, isn’t it? All this. It’s not what I’m used to, believe you me.”

  Oh, I don’t know, thought Broad. You seem to fit right in.

  “I think she wants me as a maidservant or something, although she already has a perfectly good one. She’s a mute, the poor lass. The maid, I mean, not the mistress. Well, you’ve met the mistress - she’s certainly no mute - and oh, am I wittering on too much? Say if I am. I’m certainly no mute either. My dad-” She stopped and the smile dropped from her lips. “Odd that he would leave without telling me, without saying goodbye.”

  Broad felt it behoved him to say something at this juncture. “This is good sausage,” he said and then decided that was probably not enough. “Don’t worry about your dad, Miss. There’s no point worrying. You should think the best until you hear otherwise - you’ll have a better time of it that way.”

  She looked into his eyes and smiled again. “Those are wise words. Thank you.”

  Broad felt as though he had been shot - not by a bolt from an assassin’s crossbow but by the twinkle in the damsel’s eye. It might be my job to look after the Duke, he vowed, but I shall do my very best to keep you safe.

  “I’m Broad,” he said, offering his hand across the tablecloth.

  “I can see that,” she shook it. “I’m Gonda and this is Tiggy.”

  The little boy continued to stare.

  Twenty-One

  The next few days passed peacefully at the palace. Gonda was trained by Milassa in the tasks and duties Mistress Drombo required her to perform. She liked her bathwater just so, her tea steeped for so long, her curtains drawn just so far. Practising on each other, Milassa taught Gonda how to braid the raven hair.

  All instructions were given by demonstration and the goose girl soon developed a rapport with the maidservant. There was a sorrow in the mute girl’s eyes to the bottom of which Gonda determined to get, but exchanges between the two were limited.

  During her time off, Gonda met up with Broad during his time off and the two of them walked Tiggy around the palace gardens. Broad would put the little boy on his shoulder and they would pretend to be a two-headed giant and chase a screaming, giggling Gonda across the lawns. Then the three of them would collapse in a heap, laughing and breathless, and Gonda would look at the youth and see beyond how handsome he was, to his kind heart. And she would look at the little boy, with colour in his cheeks at last and a smile on his lips and she would wonder how could anyone believe Tiggy was anything other t
han a human child? It just did not add up and, had her father been around, she would have had it out with him once and for all.

  Malgrim, my arse.

  Carith Drombo watched the happy trio from behind her curtains - which were parted just so far. Happiness! She recognised it when she saw it although she could barely remember experiencing it. She had had a chance once, perhaps. There had been a young soldier who had looked at her the way Broad Shoulders was looking at the goose girl. Perhaps I too could have had that joy...

  No!

  She turned from the window in disgust. Memories are falsehoods. Had I married that soldier and taken him inside me, I would soon have withered and died.

  And appearances are falsehoods too. That young soldier had been part of that dragoon of do-gooders, road-builders and rapists. He had deserved everything she had thrown at him.

  Yes, appearances are falsehoods. Enjoy your happiness while you think you have it, goose girl. For the time of the renewal approaches and the little boy to whom you are devoted is going to prove very useful. Very useful indeed.

  ***

  Lughor was watching, too: watching the palace gates and waiting for the Duke to emerge. Better out in the open rather than within the palace, where the Duke knowing the layout of the place would have an advantage. Out in the open, anything might happen.

  The Duke would be guarded, of course. He would be a fool to venture out alone although from what Lughor could garner from the people of Grimswyck, the Duke was well-liked and respected. The people counted themselves fortunate they were not under the boot heels of a tyrant like Argolef the Seventh of the Eastern Realm.

  They will be heartbroken, Lughor reflected. Great will be the outpouring of grief. Hair will be torn and teeth will be gnashed - all of that kind of carrying on.