“He’s not had need. Would you he set an example?”
I had no answer. I recalled Uncle Mar’s glance of hatred as I’d barred him from Mother’s door.
From the courtyard, trumpets.
Rustin glanced about. “Now what?”
I shrugged. Perhaps Uncle Mar was leaving again for Verein. Good riddance. “Rust, I’ve been thinking about giving up the Power.”
He sucked in a breath, then busied himself with a blade of grass. Finally he said, “Not yet.” He licked his lips, as if nervous. “When it’s time, you’ll know.”
He got carefully to his feet, favoring his welts.
We roamed the grounds of Castle Stryx. Tents had been set up near the scullery for the extra men from Verein. Boys of the town and castle jostled to watch the soldiers clean and arrange their gear; I tugged Rustin’s arm and made him come away, lest we appeared to be mixing with such riffraff.
In the kitchen, Kerwyn looked up from his meal. “The Duke’s men seek you.”
“Why?”
He snorted. “Lord Mar doesn’t consult me, sire.”
I retreated with Rustin to the sultry daylight. “Should I go?”
“Three days ago you were anxious enough to see him.”
True, but Uncle Mar had taken on aspects of Mother at her most imperious. He wasn’t my parent, nor my liege lord; I owed him nothing. Reluctantly, I trudged along the massive inner wall of the keep itself, toward the front entrance.
I ran my hand across the rough stones as we approached the corner. “How does it look, that I come crawling to his summons?”
“Stuff and nonsense. If I called, wouldn’t you come?”
“That’s diff—”
A figure cannoned round the corner, knocked me to the turf. I lay stunned, breathless.
With a roar Rustin hurled the intruder off my chest, flung him aside. His dagger unsheathed, he whirled, searching for more attackers.
I croaked, “It’s only Garrand.”
The stableboy scrambled to his feet, rubbing his forehead. He circled me warily, keeping my supine form between himself and Rustin. “It’s Genard, m’lord. Did you hear the crier?”
I struggled to draw breath. My sore rib, recovering from my fall down the steps, gave notice of misery to come. “Hear what, you misbegotten oaf?” I stumbled to my feet, braced myself against the rock wall. “Rust, I think he broke—”
“They’ve proclaimed Elryc!”
My mouth worked like a goldfish in the pond. It could not be so.
“You lie!” Rustin cornered the urchin stableboy against the stones.
“It’s true! The crier was on the very steps of the castle. He said—”
“They proclaimed Elryc King.” I slid to the ground, clutching my aches. I’d never trusted the scheming foul-minded little goblin. Here I’d risked life and station to protect him, and behind my back he’d made treaty with the Duke.
“Not King, outlaw!” Genard was beside himself. “The crier called him traitor, said that you were rightful heir, that your brother plotted against you. Twenty gold pieces to any man who found him.”
“Rust, what’s Uncle up to?”
The stableboy danced from toe to toe. “Twenty goldens!”
I cuffed him across the mouth. “Villain, I’ll wear your skin for a jerkin, if you but breathe a word ...”
“I won’t!”
“I heard your greed.” I twisted his hair, flung him to the ground. “Don’t let the thought cross your pea brain!”
“Easy, Roddy.”
“You too, Rust? Would you betray us for twenty goldens? Or perhaps you’d bargain for—Ow!”
Rustin stood over me, fists ready. “You call me traitor?”
From the turf, the stableboy watched, jaw agape, a tear drying on his cheek.
I rubbed my chin, half-dazed from Rustin’s blow, wondered if I was in position to kick his legs from under him. Then, despite my fury, a smile twitched. My head lay no more than a foot from Genard’s. As I had done, Rustin had done to me.
“Oh, stop!” Grumbling, I got to my feet, waving away the threat of his blow. “I didn’t mean it.”
Rustin’s passion was aflame. “You’re a lout and a bully!”
“And your liege.”
“True. My liege lord, you’re a lout and a bully!”
“Some vassal you.” I winced, offered a hand to the stableboy. “Up. My temper got the better of me.”
“Should he think that an apology?” Rust’s tone was acid.
“Need I apologize to a churl?” Preposterous. I pulled the urchin to his feet.
The boy’s lip quivered, much as Elryc’s had, in his terror atop the tower. Well, I could have regrets, and speak them, with honor. “I wish I hadn’t lost my temper.”
The boy nodded, eyes downcast. Somehow, it didn’t seem enough.
I hoped I wouldn’t ruin him for service. “I hope you’re not much hurt, Garmond.”
“Genard.” His eyes rose shyly. “I’m all right, m’lord.”
Rustin thrust a warning finger at me, spoke to the urchin. “His brother’s life is in your hands, stableboy. Only a fool would betray it for a mere twenty goldens. When Rodrigo’s King, your loyalty will reap a fortune.” Genard’s eyes grew round.
Now Rust was raiding my treasury before I’d secured it. After a moment my frown relaxed. It was he who’d made the promise. Let him pay the stableboy his ransom.
“Satisfied, Rust? Or must I apologize to you, for knocking me down?”
“A lout and a bully.” But his anger was fading.
“What’s Uncle Mar up to?”
“You’re the one to be King. Think.”
Sometimes he was beyond bearing. I sighed. “Mar hopes to unearth Elryc. But a reward would do that by itself. Why talk of treason?” I leaned against the wall, dabbed again at my lip.
Uncle Mar wanted all three of us under his control. Elryc loose was a danger, however ill-defined. By proclaiming him traitor, he would separate my adherents from Elryc’s, and neutralize them as players in the game of state. And also ...
My eyes went up. “He’s raising the stakes.”
Rust asked quietly, “How so?”
The stableboy swiveled between us.
“Mar suspects I’ve helped hide my brother, despite my denial. Condemning Elryc is a warning to me, not to cross him further.”
“But if they find him—” Genard.
“Did we ask you?” The boy wilted under my glare.
“No, sire. I’ll go now.” He sidled away.
“Hold! Where are you off to?” Hester was right; the only safe mouth was one closed by death.
“To warn him, m’lord! The stable’s not safe, with everyone looking. If someone from kitchen or the smith’s boy recognizes him ...” He seemed about to bolt.
“Rustin, he’s right. We have to move him.”
“Where?”
“The winery? A toolshed?”
Genard blurted, “He isn’t safe at the castle. Outside.”
I glowered. “You’re not safe. Begone, and we’ll stir our stew without your nose in the pot.”
“No, stay,” said Rustin. “Roddy, we have few enough allies.”
“Him? A simpering fool who knows not who his father is? A peasant?”
“As always, your grace is inspiring.” Rust’s tone turned colder. “Roddy, I do think I’m about to feed you grass, until you come to your senses.”
Hastily I backed away, desperate to avoid humiliation in the sight of a stableboy. “Don’t you dare—”
Rustin rolled up his sleeves. “You can’t treat folk like—”
“All right, I’m sorry!” I flushed crimson. “Both of you! Garmand, I didn’t mean any insult.”
“My father was a singer of lays!” The boy’s face was red. “He sang his tales for your mother the Queen. My ma told me ofttimes!”
“I said I’m—”
He squalled, “And my name is Genard! Not Garmand, or Garron, o
r any of the stupid things you call me!”
I looked with disgust to Rustin. “See what you made of him?” How dare a churl shout at a prince? Even if my temper was undone, I’d been gracious enough to apologize. As soon as we got to the stable, I’d have Griswold lay a stick to the young lout’s back.
Rust seemed less put out than I. “Lower your voice, Genard. I accept your apology, Prince Rodrigo.” He bowed.
“Arghh.” I should have stayed under my covers, and ignored Rustin’s knock. “It’s too hot to fight.” I sat, leaned against the wall, waited until the throbbing of my ribs subsided. “Genard of the stables, sit over here.” I patted the grass. “Rust, we’d better think quickly. Where can we move Elryc?”
“Have you coin for a bed at the Thorn and Briar?”
“He couldn’t sit to eat in the public—”
Rust said, “I could bring him food, in his room. If not me, Chela.”
“The inn’s too crowded.” Someone would spot him, soon or late. “Nowhere in the city. Too many greedy folk prowl the streets.” Once, when I’d been nine, my purse had been cut from my belt, and I’d never known ’til I dug for a copper.
“What, then?”
“Hester.” The word thrust from my throat, unbidden. “She’ll know.”
“Can we trust her?”
“Don’t ask it to her face, Rust. Pytor was her life. Second to him, Elryc.”
“Let’s go, then.”
“Genard, tell my brother to hide as deep in the stables as he might. In the loft, behind the hay. It’ll be hot.” I fumbled for a coin. “Bring him mulled wine, dilute and cold. We’ll decide our course.”
After all I’d done for him, the stableboy seemed sullen. “You’d trust me, then? What if I run to the Duke?”
“Well, there’s always life as a dung beetle. Besides, have I choice but to trust you?” I frowned; it hadn’t come out the way I’d wished. “Garm—Genard, will you pledge to serve me, for the House of Caledon? Serve me personally, that is?”
“As your sworn man?”
I pondered. Only the well-born might take an oath of loyalty to a particular noble. Rustin had done so, on my behalf. But an unwashed bumpkin such as Genard? Ridiculous, but I had little choice.
“Yes. My sworn man.”
He hesitated a long moment. Then, “No, m’lord.”
As I turned molten he blurted, “I’ll serve Elryc, if he’ll have me.”
“You—what?”
“I’d be his liegeman.” He drew himself up to his small stature. To my stunned silence he said, “I’ll tell him.”
Genard stalked toward the stable. I watched with grudging eye. His bearing had, for the first time, dignity.
Rustin and I hurried round the foundation wall of the castle. “I imagine she’ll be in the nursery.” We passed through the entry to the great stone stairs. The vaulted ceiling of the hall offered cool relief from the relentless sun.
“Ah, there you are!” Stire, the Duke’s man. “Where go you?”
My shirt hung damp, my lip had begun to swell; I’d narrowly avoided a mouthful of grass from my lunatic vassal, and I’d had altogether enough. “I don’t answer to you!”
An elaborate bow, suffused with sarcasm. “Perhaps not, my prince. But Margenthar of Stryx, Duke and Regent, my master, asks you to remain in your chambers until he speaks with you.”
“I’ll consider it.” I started up the stairs, Rustin in tow.
“Consider it well. I’ll post guards if you don’t cooperate.”
I stopped short. “You’d make me prisoner, Stire?”
“I’d do worse were it up to me.” His face made clear his inclination. “Be in your rooms, youngsire, when your uncle comes to visit. Your playmate”—a contemptuous gesture at Rustin—“may keep you company.”
I nodded, too enraged to speak. We disappeared from his sight; I stalked past the entry to my chambers, galloped up to the third-floor nursery.
I knocked. “Hester?” Last time I’d visited, she’d sat despondent at her table. “Are you in?” No answer; I opened the unlocked door and went in. “Rust, if she’s out, go—Lord of Nature!” An apparition lunged across the chamber, jagged blade clenched tight in hand.
“Come you again, demons of the lake?”
I cowered against the wall opposite. Her eyes half-mad, Hester bore an ancient notch-edged knife she used to slice our bread and cheese. A whirl sent Rustin dancing to safety. A jab in my direction; I sucked in my stomach, avoided by a whisker the spill of my guts. “Lord’s love, Hester! It’s me, Roddy!”
A snarl, to Rustin. “Get away, you!” Her lip curled. “Where’s my boy?”
I tensed at each flick of her blade. “Hester, don’t you know me?”
“Think ye I’m daft, arrogant Princeling? You were to inform me day by day: I had your word! Where’s my Elryc?”
“That’s what we—”
“Tell me this moment, or I’ll gut you like a trout!” The point of her blade pressed at my navel. Rustin, dagger drawn, circled behind. “This instant!”
A pinprick, on my tensed belly. I yelped. “In the stables!”
She swung to Rustin. “Is it true, whelp?”
“Put down the knife, grandmother. If you harm my prince—”
“Faugh. Call off your watchpuppy, Roddy.” Blade still in hand, she brushed past Rustin as if he didn’t exist. Rust’s jaw dropped.
“Sit, both of you. I’ll bar the door.”
I rolled up my shirt, peered, wiped a droplet of blood from my navel. I took a long, slow breath to slow my heart’s pounding. “See what I’ve put up with?” I shoved Rustin to a bench.
“She tried to kill us!”
“No, I’d be gawping my life out, if she so intended. Think ye Mother trusted just anyone, with her cubs?”
“But she’s so old, so bent. How can she ...”
“Sit.” I pushed him down. “She’s a tad irate.” Not to say deranged. On the other hand, she was firmly on our side.
“Why the stables?” With a sigh, Hester lowered herself to the bench opposite, absently fingering the point of her blade.
“He’s made friends with the stableboy. The boy brings him food and drink.”
“Elryc’s had nothing but that slop? Arr.” She lay aside the blade, flexed her withered fingers. “You, Llewelyn’s boy, see if the tea on the hearth is warm.” A moment’s reflection. “Griswold’s a good man, I judge. The reward won’t bend him.” Her eyes shot up. “Your precious uncle put a bounty on Elryc’s head. Called him a traitor.”
“I heard, Nurse.” My tone was meek.
“That shrew Rowena came running, delighted with the news. A goodly while you took, before you came to me.” She brooded while Rustin poured steaming tea into her well-used cup. I wondered how she could stand the heat of it. She sighed. “Where shall we take him?”
“We?”
“I might need your help, to fetch and carry. My bones are old. Lord of Nature knows you can’t be trusted alone to watch a foal in a stall, lest some butterfly float past and you—”
“Please!” Perhaps some hint of my anguish reached her, for she fell silent.
I swallowed a lump in my throat. Mother had kept me at heel in matters that concerned her, but otherwise I’d done as I pleased. I thought nothing of roaming off to see Rustin, or galloping through the fields with Griswold. As long as I appeared at my lessons, and promptly answered Mother’s summons, my days had been my own. Now I was fenced on all sides, by Mar’s scheming, the Chamberlain’s uncertainty, Stire’s contempt.
“Faugh.” Hester sipped at her tea. “Feeling sorry for yourself? A habit you’d best outgrow if you’d be King. Think instead of poor Elryc, alone and terrified.” Another sip. “I have a sister, Tarana. Had. Three years now she’s gone. But her cottage remains, and it’s mine. The millkeeper tends it for me.”
“Where?”
“In the hills south of Cumber.”
Almost two days hard ride. For us younger ones,
that was. Even if Hester could still sit a horse, she couldn’t possibly ride at such a pace. She’d either dash her bones to splinters at her mount’s first shy, or drop from exhaustion before the day was out.
“Rust and I will take him. Just tell us the way.”
“Goatbabble. Think you I’d leave a helpless child to your notion of—”
“Nurse, would you risk his life by slowing us?”
“Bah.” She eyed her tea with distaste. “Time was when you and that brute stallion of yours couldn’t catch me on my mare, if your life itself lay in balance.” A sigh. “I’ll ride, if I must, though my saddlebags will be packed with liniment.” She gestured to the pot. “Heat it well, this time.”
Obediently, Rustin tossed the dregs of her cup in the slop bucket, put the kettle back on the embers.
“Besides, lad, there’s not such haste. Margenthar has no need of a nurse; I’ll tell him I’ve retired to my demesne. My gear will fill a wagon, and its pace will befit an old lady.”
“That’s ridiculous. Once they know you’ve sneaked Elryc away, mounted soldiers could ride in an hour what you’d manage in a day.”
“Why would they?”
“And you can’t drive out the gate with my brother sitting at your side. No matter where you hide him, knowing your feelings they’ll search every inch—”
Her hand cracked down on the table, and made me jump. “He’ll leave Stryx unharmed, if I have to turn him into a sparrow and fly him over the wall. Leave you that to me.”
Rustin coughed. “Think, Roddy. Nurse can get a day’s start; we can ride after, to meet her. Else we’d all troop through the gate like—”
“Oh!” I’d forgotten. I couldn’t troop through the gate, with Elryc or alone. Uncle Mar had restricted my movement. Somehow, I’d have to break my chains. “We can’t separate; what if out paths fail to cross? I won’t leave Elryc.”
Hester’s fingers made a mysterious sign at my eyes. I snapped shut my mouth, ice chilling my spine. When I’d been small she’d shushed me so, warning me she had the Black Way. I’d never dared test her of it. “Elryc and I leave together, my young Prince Roddy. We’ll wait for you outside the town. If you break free, you may ride with us.”
“How kind of you.” But my sarcasm seemed lost on her.
“And one other matter. Pytor.”
The Still Page 10
