“She hates me. Why should I be bothered with her worries?”
“And Rustin?”
My tone was cautious. “What about him?”
“He demeans himself for you. How can you send a noble to work in the fields like—”
“Elryc, I forbade it. He went nonetheless.”
“Think you that Hester doesn’t know how you refused him, and he provides you to eat despite yourself?” He came close, eyes beseeching. “Chela will be the first to leave, I think. Then perhaps Rust, or Fostrow, and we’ll be alone. We can’t treat them like churls.”
“So you want me to work? Did Rust put you up to this?”
He shouted, “Fool that thou art, don’t you ever listen? I want to work! Yes, strike me, if thou will!”
Reluctantly, I lowered my fist.
“Roddy, my honor’s at stake. If I can’t work tomorrow, I’ll forbid Genard to go. I think he’ll do as I say.” He took a deep breath, set his jaw. “We must do right.”
I sighed. I had to admit the situation had gotten out of hand. “Give me a day. I’ll deal with it.”
“Lord of Nature, no. You’ll assault Danar, and—”
“I won’t go near him or the mill. I already promised Rust. Let it be.”
“Just one more day?”
“Aye.” I climbed into the stirrup. “Let’s go.”
I woke to bright daylight and the carpenters’ saws.
“Ho, you’re up at last.” Hester went to the fire, poured tea, brought a crust of bread with it to my bedroll. “Eat, then.” Her voice was gruff.
“Where’s everyone?”
“They woke at a civilized hour to work. Elryc’s following the carpenter’s boy, like a pet calf.” She busied herself with the contents of a trunk. “Tomorrow, I’ll ask if someone wants a washerwoman. You’ll watch Elryc.”
I looked at my bread, ashamed. “Have you eaten?”
“Enough.” Perhaps it meant she’d had nothing.
“I’m sorry for your troubles.” I spoke with casual care; much sympathy and she’d douse me with scorn.
“Bah. Run off and play.” She took my empty cup, hesitated. “Roddy ...” She found a seat. “There’s something I must tell you.”
“What have I done now?”
“Much I haven’t heard, I’ll warrant, and none of it good. No.” A sigh. “Some days past you spoke of my conjuring coin. Think you I would not, if I could?”
“Who knows? Perhaps our plight amuses you.” I spoke with more force than I’d intended.
“Aye, you can see me holding my belly from laughing. Come outside.” She led me to the wagon.
“I took Elryc out of Stryx in this.”
“What did you change him to?”
“Nothing.”
“I was there, and watched them search.”
The grimness of her mouth relaxed into a bitter smile. “What did you see?”
“The soldiers, annoyed that you’d parked the cart to block their way. Housemaids and servants sweating with your gear, piece by piece, while you berated them. The horses hitched. Your fury when the guards insisted on searching. Then, to jeers and catcalls, you rode out.”
“So now you know how I took Elryc.”
“Don’t mock—”
“The answer’s before you.”
I stared at the ugly, weather-beaten wagon, the wheel I’d slammed into while running from wasps, the awkward high box seat, the tailboard against which I’d rested. Once more I got down on my knees, peered under, looking for straps.
I sighed. “You’re a witch. Would I’d known it when I was young, to protect myself.”
“You’re still young, and foolish as a milch cow.” She reached up, rapped the seat. “Here, dolt.”
I flushed, but ignored the insult. “You lie. I watched from the start, and never you had a moment to smuggle him—”
My jaw dropped.
The audacity.
“But you must have ...” I shook my head, marveling. From the night before she left, there wasn’t a moment when Hester could have smuggled Elryc into the coffin of the high box. Which meant—“You sealed him in the box prior, in the stables. Then you parked him in front of the soldiers’ noses for the night. That whole show of loading the wagon—you are a witch!” I couldn’t help but grin like a cretin.
She nodded. “It was all I could think of.”
“And all that time you egged the soldiers on, you were dancing on the high seat, atop Elryc.”
“Aye, and nearly tumbled to the wagon bed. But it was vital that eyes be on me, and not the cart.”
“Hester, why didn’t you tell when first I asked?”
Her smile faded; her shoulders slumped. “It’s useful that men think you have power. But now, you had need to know. A lifetime of serving the Queen, and I’m reduced to poverty, the care of Elryc, and the company of a dim-witted heir. Ah, Roddy. How little we know of life’s end, when we start the journey.” She made her way back to the cottage, leaning on her stick.
I went to the stream, to think. I unlaced my boots to dangle my feet, but a moment’s immersion changed my mind in a hurry. The water was just short of ice. I stared at the torrent rushing down from the hills, rubbed the blueness from my ankles, relaced my boots.
Elryc was right; our situation was intolerable. I brushed off my breeches, went to saddle Ebon.
It was near dark when I returned, near starving. A day’s ride will do that. I was eager to make my announcement. The carpenters were gone, and our party was finishing a meal of bread and cheese, augmented by soup.
“Where were you?” Hester’s rheumy eye was cold with disfavor.
“I had business to attend.” I waited for them to ask.
“You’re a fool to go off without telling us.”
“I don’t need your permission.”
“Roddy.” Rustin cleared his throat. “One of us should ride with you, for safety.”
“I can take care of myself!” For a while, I sulked.
Fostrow slurped his tea. “We took grain to the mill today. I had word with Danar.”
Rustin was indignant. “We agreed not to—”
“Yes, I know. I told him to make settlement with Dame Hester, or I’d slice him in twain, and let Lord Cumber judge the penalty. Don’t look so aggrieved, youngsire. My back aches so, I cannot sleep. I took arms to escape such a life as this.”
“It’s only for a while.”
“Even so.” He drained his dregs. “I swore to Lord Rodrigo unto death. By my thinking, hanging is no worse than a sword in the belly. Both are more fitting than hacking at grain.”
Chela spat into the fire. “You destroy yourself for him, who won’t lift a finger for himself or us. Why do we this? Shush, Rustin, you know it’s true. If Lord Roddy worked, we’d be done in three weeks.”
I snarled, “You’d earn more on your back than ever you could scrubbing wash.”
“What do you know of men lying with women?”
Rust snapped, “Both of you, stop!”
My voice cut through the babble. “There’s no more need.” Reveling in the moment, I stood, emptied my coin-purse, opened my hand slowly. One by one, I let the silver coins fall onto the table, all except one that I kept. “Your roof. Hens, for eggs and meat. Feed. Milk.”
All was silence.
I waited.
Rustin was the first to stir. “You had your purse all the while, and let us—”
Fostrow. “How could you, Rodrigo!”
“What you’d expect of him.” Chela. “He didn’t care if—”
I sat, unable to repress my smile.
Hester stirred. “I bathed his stings when he came howling in the night, with naught but his loincloth. He had no purse.”
Again, a silence. Rustin crossed to my side, bent, took my chin in his blistered hands, raised my face. “How came you by this coin, my prince?”
I glanced from one to the other. “You think I robbed your precious Danar, but I had no truck with
him.” From Fostrow, a sigh of relief. “I took a long ride today. Once you reach the Cumber Road it’s easy going. On a good horse it’s only three hours.”
Rustin’s hand tightened on my chin. “How came you by this silver, Rodrigo?”
“I’m telling you.” I shook off his swollen hand. My moment wasn’t going as expected. “I rode to Shar’s Cross and sold the smith ...” I swallowed, my triumph fading. Suddenly I feared my next words.
Hester put hands on knees, groaned to her feet. She too came close, eyed me. “What did you sell, boy?”
I shrugged. “Nothing we had need of. The sword.”
“My sword!” Rust’s cry was anguish.
“What use was it, if we starved? Even if we paid the carpenter, you’d still have to work—”
“How could you!”
“—to put food in our bellies. You all hated the labor.”
“It wasn’t yours to sell!” Rustin’s face was contorted. He hugged himself.
Chela lunged at me, tore my hair, slashed at my cheek.
With a howl of rage I knocked her to the floor. “You’re crazed, all of you! I saved us!”
Elryc turned away, leaned his cheek on Genard’s shoulder.
I said, “Rust, I’m sorry if ...”
His eyes glistened, but he stood as if stone.
“You gave it to me. We’ll find you another sword, when times are—”
Hester opened the door, trudged into the dark.
Rustin’s voice was unsteady. “I only gave you the use of it, Roddy. It was my first sword. My first ever.” He wiped his face, regarded mine. “Why did you not sell Ebon?”
“My horse? Don’t be ridiculous!” A nobleman was nothing, without a horse.
Or a sword.
I cleared my throat, suddenly uncomfortable. “I’m sorry if you feel—”
His face twisted. “No, it doesn’t matter. What need of a fine sword has the son of Llewelyn, traitor? We’ve lost the keep, our place in Caledon, our name. Sell Santree, if you would. I’ll have no need of him either.”
“Rust—”
“I have no liege. No friend.” Beside himself, he kicked off his boots. “Here, sell these too.” Barefoot, he tottered into the night.
Chela scrambled to her feet, ran after.
Genard stared at the floor.
Fostrow shook his head. “It was wrong, my lord.”
“Shut thy cursed mouth!”
I took my bedroll, spread it with a savage snap, lay fuming.
Chapter 17
FOR TWO DAYS, NONE WOULD speak to me. not that they refused, if I insisted on some speech, but after a time I grew tired of curt and grudging replies, and left them to their devices. In the cool afternoons I lay near the stream, under the shade of a tree, dreaming of my kingdom. When I wore my crown, I’d show them all. Even Rustin would bow to me, and it would be the formal bow of state, at our every meeting. Elryc as well.
I’d bargained well for the sword. Now, there was no need to labor in fields or smithy. Nonetheless, each morn Rustin donned old sandals and, spurning the use of Santree, trudged off to town. Chela pleaded with him, but he refused; when she tugged at his arm he shoved her against the fence, with a force that pleased me. At night he came home weary and aching, and she rubbed his back, with sullen determination.
At last, on a cold misty evening, I grew tired of the isolation, and seeing Elryc outdoors, I drew him aside. “Brother, help me plan for when I’m King.”
He seemed tired. “Not tonight.” He made as if to go.
I stayed him. “Sit with me. I’m—” I hesitated, lest revealing myself give him power. “I’m lonely.”
He sighed, but sat, folded his legs. “You shouldn’t have done it.”
“The sword? If anyone, it’s Rust who should berate me.”
“He won’t.” Elryc made a face. “He can’t.”
“Why? He’s no longer vassal.” I watched another cloud obscure the moon.
“Oh, Roddy.” Silence, for a time. “How can you be so near grown, and see so little?”
“To what am I blind, wise one?” Sarcasm dripped from my tone.
“He suffers.”
I waved it away. “No sword is worth that.”
“Not for the sword.” Elryc gave me an odd look. “Have you no thought for him?”
“He’s stubborn, and a fool. Look at him, going off to slave each day, to spite me.”
“He makes ... expiation.” Once again, Elryc seemed not eleven, but someone older, wiser.
“For Llewelyn? Well that he should. A shame that Rust’s life is ruined, but where is he to go? After his father’s treason, who would honor him?”
“Not you, certainly.”
I picked at blades of grass. “Why would I? He’s a nobody, a discarded playmate.” I grew tired of the subject, and a chill was in the air. “What should I do, now that you’re safe?”
“Whatever you wish.” Elryc sounded defeated, but in a moment tried again. “Roddy, I think Rustin works as a churl—not because of Llewelyn. He does penance. For you.”
“Nonsense.” I wiped my hands. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Then why do you feel shame?”
“I don’t.” I stood. “Come, it’s starting to rain.”
“You won’t meet my eye. You haven’t met anyone’s eye for days.”
“Where did you dream this nonsense?” I stalked back toward the cottage.
As I neared, the conversation within lapsed. Outwardly, I ignored the snub. I got myself ready for bed, against the steady drizzle on our new thatching. Tense, I lay tossing and turning in the dark.
By invitation or on her own, Chela had crept back into Rustin’s bed. I snorted. Fitting, that they pair: a churl and a housemaid. His resolve to dispose of her services had gone the way of his oath of vassalage.
I dozed, but creaks and scraping in the night kept me from sleep. I listened jealously for sound of Rustin coupling, not sure how I’d respond if I recognized it. He and Chela lay beyond Fostrow’s bulk; I couldn’t see them without raising myself. Doing so would be too obvious, so I refrained.
Another creak; a muttered voice. Someone spoke in his sleep.
I jerked awake. The voice, unfamiliar, had come from behind me, where there were only the slat shutters of the window.
My skin prickled. I threw off the cover, stood shivering in my loincloth.
Outside, a step.
I fumbled for my sword, realized I no longer had one. I drew breath to shout.
The door crashed open. Hooded figures swarmed. They bore clubs and sticks, and a sputtering brand.
I shouted, “Rustin! Fostrow! Arm yourselves!”
A club crashed down, on one of the sleeping figures.
I was near the table. Cursing, I picked up a chair, brandished it. A club whistled, smashed my chair to splinters. It drove me to my knees.
The hooded figure raised his cudgel to strike again. I dived under the table.
“Set the brand!” A rough, guttural voice.
From the safety of the table I watched Rust scramble to his feet. A club caught him in the midriff.
Boots, close by. The side of my table rose. I clawed at the nearby leg.
“Hurry, afore they—imps and demons!” He lurched free.
Fostrow panted, “Rustin, Genard, take arms! Put Elryc behind—ow—you’d try that, would you? Ha!” A clatter. A cry of dismay.
“Torch the roof, and let’s be gone!”
“Roddy, where are you?” Fostrow.
The flickering light grew brighter. I risked a glance over the table. At the far wall Rustin was doubled over in pain, a snarl on his lips. He clutched his half-sword. Beside him stood Fostrow, legs apart, his dagger glinting red. Genard, wild-eyed, swung a chair at a burly figure.
“Get the one under the table!”
With nowhere to flee, I snatched up the table, tried to make it a shield. A club loomed high.
Fostrow’s dagger whirled over my head,
plunged itself into my assailant’s throat.
His club fell harmlessly over my shoulder. Scrabbling fingers tore at his hood.
A swarthy man, muscled from a lifetime of labor. He swayed. Beads of sweat stood out on his knotted forehead.
I gaped.
He opened his mouth as if to speak, spewed forth a gout of blood that splattered my face, my arms, my bare chest. I screamed, careening backward. I tumbled over shattered furniture.
As the hooded figures retreated, one seized the torch, ran about the room lighting everything within reach. Fostrow charged. The attacker hurled the torch into the rafters, bolted out the door.
I touched myself, came away with gobs of blood. Frantic, I wiped my cheeks and mouth with reddened fingers, rubbed helplessly at the ooze on my chest.
My hands were crimson. I wiped them on my loincloth, on the wall, on anything I found. It wasn’t enough. I bent and vomited.
When at last I could breathe, acrid smoke wafted about the room. Flames sputtered from the roof. I wiped my steaming eyes, beside myself with terror. I mustn’t burn.
Fostrow lurched outside, supporting Rustin’s half-limp form. I glanced about. Chela was still inside her covers. Hester, in her voluminous robe, lay on her stomach, as if dead. Of Elryc, no sign.
I crawled toward Chela, my limbs atremble. She breathed. Cursing, I seized her arms, tried to drag her toward the door. She was amazingly heavy, and I gave up as a waft of smoke blew my way. I crawled to the door, dived outside as sparks fell on my shoulder.
Genard darted past me, tugged at Chela. Not daring to display my fears, I risked all, ran inside to grab her arm. Desperate for the welcome cool of the rain, I helped him haul her to the yard.
I peered inside. Hester’s body wasn’t worth my cremation. I backed from the porch.
“Roddy, help!” Elryc’s voice, weak.
I couldn’t see him. Even he wasn’t worth the flames, though the cottage hadn’t yet begun to burn in earnest. “Where are you?’
“On the floor!”
Damn him. Still, I’d sworn fealty by the True. If I made no effort, I might lose my Power. Cursing, I took a tentative step into the cottage. “Do you hide, you fool?”
“Here, Roddy.” Elryc’s voice came from Hester. The old woman’s arm moved. Elryc’s own appeared below. “Help me from under!”
The Still Page 26
