“No, he’s the cause.” I closed my eyes.
“What’s come between you?”
“That’s none of your—” I grimaced. Would I speak True, or no? “He allowed Imbar to debauch him, so the valet would urge Uncle Raeth to support me. Our friendship is done forever.”
“Father says forever lies across steep hills; your steed may tire before reaching it.” He hesitated. “Sir, I’ve no love for Rustin; he beat me with his scabbard. But don’t lock him from your life.”
“Who are you, to tell me what to do?”
“Baron, and Privy Councilor, sir.” His gaze was defiant.
“Oh.” I swallowed. “Yes. Well ...” I sighed, suddenly finding it hard to speak. “I loved him. Not, of course, as I’d love a woman.” My words seemed too hasty, and perhaps a touch false. No, I wouldn’t think of that. “He was my true friend. And he betrayed me.”
“As did his father.”
My eyes burned. Smoke from the kitchens, no doubt. I forced my mind elsewhere. “Anavar, I have no proper court. The best service you can give is to attend me. Call those whom I seek; relay my words. When we’re home in Stryx, protocol will sort itself out. Chamberlain Willem will help ...” I made a vague gesture. “Let’s find Raeth.”
In the courtyard, Tursel had made great progress in settling the displaced townsfolk. His men had improvised rough shelters, in which villeins and merchants alike huddled. The pathways had been cleared of carts and barrows. Raeth’s stables were full to overflowing with horses and mules.
I found my uncle outside the kitchens, glaring at sweating cooks who labored over bubbling cauldrons. “That we have a horde of guests doesn’t mean you need oversalt the soup. By the demons’ lake, you know better! Tresa, watch over them. We’ve a reputation to uphold. Hello, Roddy. Or shall I call you King?”
“You’re too old to change your ways,” I growled. “Tease me as you will. It’s your nature.”
“Isn’t he a gracious sovereign, Anavar?” My uncle pursed his lips. “Perhaps I owe you an apology, my Lord of the Southern Reaches. Yet you were a foreigner at the time, perhaps I don’t. What say you?”
Anavar gaped.
I said, “He’ll delight in disconcerting you, boy, now you’re landed nobility and worth the trouble. Pay him no heed, unless the candles flicker.”
Uncle bowed to acknowledge a point scored. “No reply yet from our, um, guest outside the walls. Ah, Imbar, what have you, a scroll? Perhaps I spoke too soon.”
Breathing heavily, the erstwhile valet read aloud his missive. Tantroth Duke of Eiber would partake of Cumber’s hospitality, and meet under truce the boy pretender to the throne of Caledon.
I clenched my teeth, determined to make no outburst. After, I was proud of the effort.
So Tantroth would commit to our honor, knowing that one prick of a dagger could end him. He was no coward. I filed the knowledge.
For a warrior in siege, Tantroth made an imposing entrance. He’d been allowed only six retainers, but two dozen men-at-arms accompanied him as far as our torchlit walls. They bore banners enough for a legion. After the gates closed I would slip inside, and be waiting when Tantroth entered the great hall, but now I paced the battlements with agitation, disguised in a shabby cloak.
Was I wise to let Tantroth within our keep? He’d be well watched and amply guarded, but nothing would blunt his observations. Yet Caledon had never been an armed camp. His spies had entered Cumber’s gates on many an occasion, and he no doubt had maps of the castle as fine as our own.
Tantroth’s honor guard reined in well clear of the wall, so we need not fear treachery. Nonetheless, two scores of our guard stood ready to force shut the door.
Tantroth passed through without incident, and his six retainers behind. Black he wore, as did his men. Fine colors for autumn, I thought. But what of summer? Did his men, outlandishly forced to dress alike, suffer from heat in their garb? Perhaps someday I’d take that into account.
Tantroth’s hair was gray, his face grizzled and lined. I was shocked; I’d not thought him old.
I stared down from the battlement, reminding myself it was his orders that had burned peasants in their huts, in search of me. Yet I’d invited him to my table. Was I any better than he?
The Earl of Cumber stood forth, to welcome Tantroth with due ceremony. It was a marvel we could all pretend the Duke of Eiber had no army waiting to breach our walls, and we weren’t stocked for siege.
Reluctantly, I trotted to a side stairs, and disappeared into the throng of the courtyard. Moments after, I was at the head of Uncle Raeth’s table, awaiting our guest. As I’d ordered, Elryc sat at my side. I’d promised he’d be my counsel, and today redeemed my pledge. Genard watched him from the servants’ place by the wall, with eyes of pride.
As for Anavar, he was banished to my chamber with a plate of dinner, ordered to open for no voice save my own. I would not allow that he and his first liege meet. For a moment I wondered if I’d truly done the boy good service; how his head must spin in sorting out his loyalties.
Cumber’s voice rang out from the entry. “My lord King Rodrigo: your vassal Tantroth, Norduke of Eiber, and his retinue.” To me, Uncle Raeth made the formal bow, the deep bow of state.
Tantroth’s lips played in a smile. He bowed politely to Raeth, and acknowledged me with barely more than a nod. Not the bow of vassal to lord, it wasn’t even the notice of equals.
He’d left me no choice; I kept my seat. Better to ignore his bend entirely than to reply with similar discourtesy or, worse, bow to him as a superior. I glanced about, hoping for a moment to catch Rustin’s eye, but of course he was absent. I said, “My lord Norduke, we bid thee welcome.”
“Greetings, Roddy.” He coughed. “A fine banquet, Lord Cumber.” At that, Tresa caught my eye with a sympathetic smile. My fingers eased their grip on the armrest.
Uncle Raeth waved airily. “Simple fare, I regret.”
I said, “Come, Lord Tantroth, sit at my right. Brother, meet our esteemed Norduke.” Elryc stood, bowed with such respect that Tantroth was forced to bow in return or seem a churl. Perhaps I should have done the same, and set the Norduke in his place. I filed the lesson in the recesses of memory; I could learn much, if I watched.
Over the soup I turned to Tantroth and said pleasantly, “So, my lord. Will you presume on our hospitality this winter, when your men freeze in their tents?”
“I’ll be long home—” He was stopped by a deep, hacking cough that seemed without end. Finally, he wiped his mouth, took a swallow of wine. “My seven thousand are ample to surmount your walls. I’ll leave my barons here to rebuild our holdings.”
“I think not.” I smiled agreeably. I trusted Tursel’s estimate of eleven thousand. Of course, Tantroth wouldn’t want me to know his true strength, but it was a wily move to undervalue it.
He said sourly, “Boys your age know nothing of war.”
Even Uncle Raeth drew sharp breath.
I said, “A pity you left me no choice. I really hoped not to cede Eiber.”
“It’s not yours to cede me.”
“Not to you, my lord.” I broke bread, dipped it in the remains of my soup. “To the Norlanders. They have the strength to evict you.” While I seemed to watch my bowl, my whole being waited his reaction.
What I suggested was no idle threat. Eiber served as a buffer between us and the feared Norlanders. Their nation dwarfed Caledon, and moreover the Rood of the Norland was justly feared in battle.
“You haven’t treated with the Norland. I’d know.” His voice was confident. “And you wouldn’t. Their sword is sharpened at both edges.”
If he was certain I hadn’t, he’d not want me to have the knowledge. My heart leaped. “You started so well, Lord Tantroth, taking us by surprise. And after, your intelligence was brilliant; how did you guess Mar sent plague victims to rest in Stryx Castle?” I barely paused. “I’d reckoned you’d enter and your armies be decimated by now.”
His smile was crooked. “Say all o
f that by the True.”
“Hardly. I won’t ever speak to you by the True, not even in treaty. Else you’d know when I lie.”
“As you do now.”
“Perhaps you’re right. Yet you’re beaten, my lord, by your own miscalculation.” I had to take care, and phrase my insinuations as questions. A false declaration might cost me the Still.
Again, the hacking cough, but only for a moment. “How say you?”
“Mother, fair Elena, would have died to keep Caledon whole. I’m a callow boy; I’ll take what I can get. What if I ceded the Norlanders all Eiber, and half of Cumber with it, and gave Uncle Raeth Verein to compensate?”
I glanced to Lord Cumber for his accord, and luckily, he was up to it. He managed to look dour, and not surprised.
Tantroth was seized with a fit of coughing.
I said solicitously, “You’re ill, my lord.”
“Aye, it will carry me off, this wheeze.” His face set in a death’s-head grin. “But not yet. You were saying?”
“That you’ve erred. Do you think Hriskil of Norland will promise me your head? And should you try to withdraw, I’ll harry you to the hills.” I owed him no mercy.
Tantroth snarled, “You’d toy with me, youngsire? No wonder Mar wants to box your ears. Go with women, before you call yourself a man!”
A sharp rap, from several seats below. Willem raised his glass. “Your health, my lords. I salute you both.” His face was earnest, and compelling. Seething, white of face, I raised my glass, spilling half my wine.
After the dinner, and Tantroth’s ceremonial departure, Elryc and I walked to his room. “You confused him, Roddy. That’s good. Even if he thinks you gull him, he sees you as a worthy opponent.”
“Wonderful,” I grumbled. “Now he’ll respect me as he slays me.”
“He won’t.” Elryc drew me into a hug. “You act the King. I’m proud.”
I rustled his hair, speechless. What had come of our carping and enmity, in days so recent?
“Roddy ...” He faced me, resolute. “We’ll fight off Tantroth, or he’ll leave. You’ll rule well. But one thing you must do, and soon.”
“What’s that, brother?” After the night’s tension, I felt magnanimous.
“Make your peace with Rustin.”
“Devils and imps take—what’s come over my court? You, Anavar—shall I have no reprieve? Rustin is my problem, not yours!”
Elryc was unfazed. “Am I your counselor? Do you keep your oath?”
“Yes!”
“Heed my advice. Else you’ll be miserable.”
“Because we shared a bed when I had need? I’m past that now. A man must—”
“Would I had a friend as close as he to you!” His eyes teared. “You throw away treasure!” He darted into his room.
Not knowing where else to go, I climbed the stairs, searched out Hester’s chamber. Perhaps there was some remnant of sage advice in the ruin of her mind. A servant quietly let me in.
“Hello, Nurse.”
She opened an eye, lifted her head from the table. She peered about, as if dazed. “Where are we?”
“In Cumber.”
“Ah. They told me.” She pried open her other eye. “I’m still half-blind.” Pus oozed from under the eyelid.
I pulled up a stool, and sat. “It must hurt.”
“I’m beyond hurt.” A laugh, that became a cackle. “You’ve grown, Roddy. My lady will be amazed when I tell her.”
My heart leaped. “You know me?”
“How could I not?” She sat rocking. “The boy who would be King.” She shook her head. “Pytor was here, last hour.”
“You mean Elryc,” I said gently.
“Think you I don’t know them apart? Pytor it was, after Elryc left. He cursed Mar.” Her single eye glared balefully.
“I’ll avenge him, Nurse.” If I kept no other vow, I’d honor that.
“Of course.” Her gaze flitted to the window. “Think you we’ll go riding today, my lady and I?”
“Oh, Hester.” I took her gnarled hand, laid it to my cheek.
“Go, you great overgrown—no, out!” She hobbled to her feet. “You’ve better to do than crumble my dreams!” She shooed me to the door. “Leave an old woman in peace!”
I beckoned the servant. “Tend her well,” I advised. “As you value your life.”
Chapter 40
IN THE GREAT HALL, SERVANTS cleared the remains of our banquet. I waved away their bows, stared past the shutters into the night.
“The Norduke was rude, my lord.” Tresa.
I nodded, turned, took her hand as if that were the most natural thing in the world. “Yes.”
“Grandfather is chortling over your manner. None of us knew what you’d say next.”
“Is that fitting?”
“It was necessary. We’ve little enough stores to last the winter, even if the walls hold. You sowed doubt.” Did she squeeze my fingers, or was my imagination gone wild?
What could I say—how best to impress her? My mind spun, until I fell back on truth. “I don’t know what to say, Tresa. I have little ... experience.” My face burned.
“Oh, Rodrigo. They say you hate pity, so—”
“Who told you that?”
“Rustin.” Her voice was calm. “Days ago.”
“Where is he?”
“About the castle, one place or another. He ate tonight in the kitchen.”
“How do you know?”
“I asked, for your sake.”
“For your own, rather!” I pulled my hand free. “I have no interest.”
She glanced about, to the servants. “Walk me to my room, my lord. There’s gossip enough.”
The corridors were dim, the torches smoky. Her chambers were on the third floor.
“What will you do now, Rodrigo? About our siege.”
“Who knows? Let them stew, until Mar and Tantroth set to quarreling.” I shrugged. “It’s a problem for the morn. I’ll hear my advisors.”
“Rustin among them.”
“You too, my lady?” I couldn’t hide my resentment. “Do you all conspire?”
“Why hate him?”
“You yourself told me why. Faugh!”
For a long moment she gazed at me, as if considering. “Come, Roddy. Sit.” She waited until I complied. Then, “What is it you can’t abide? That he lay with Imbar, or not with you?”
“My lady!” My cheeks were hot.
“Why can’t we discuss it? You told the court he was your ... companion. Think you it troubles me?”
My voice was strangled. “How could it not?”
“You must take solace, Roddy. That’s no shame.”
I realized I was kneading my jerkin, and made my hands be still. “My lady, I know you mean well, but ...” I fought for calm. “Truly I must go.”
As if I hadn’t spoken she asked, “Are you jealous?”
“How dare you!” Almost I struck her.
She bit her lip, turned aside. “Grandfather adores Imbar, surely you know. It’s not that Imbar has a hold over him, rather that to please him ...”
I didn’t want to hear.
“On your first visit, when you and Grandfather quarreled, the valet went to Rustin—explained he could sway Grandfather in your favor, that without him you had no hope—and told him the price.” Her voice was pained. “Imbar loves Grandfather, truly he does, but he roves. There’ve been stableboys, and cooks ... Grandfather shouldn’t have ...”
“Be silent, or say it all!”
“Twice Imbar took Rustin to his room.” For a moment she seemed flustered. “Perhaps I should have told you before, but I thought you and Lord Rustin would speak ... When first Imbar left, Rustin vomited on the stairs. The second time, a houseman saw his face. It was white as ...” She said no more.
I whispered, “How could he?” My eyes sought hers. “I’m demeaned. He whored for my crown.”
She dropped to her knees, took my face, raised it to meet her eyes. �
��Think you even now of yourself?”
“What say you?”
“What of him? What of your friend? He loved you so that even his manhood was not too great a gift.”
The world wrenched into place, and I spun away, that she might not see me weep.
She gathered me to her breast. After a time my struggles weakened.
“I’m so sorry.” Did I speak to her, or Rust?
Her soft fingers stroked the small of my back.
A long while passed. I kissed her gently on the nape.
She sighed. “I caused you such pain ... my words were clumsy.”
“No matter now.” I kissed her again, and she raised her head. Our lips neared. Tremulously, I met them.
The candles flickered in the soft night breeze. After a time I undid my cloak. Tresa essayed a smile. We reclined on the bolster, half sitting. “Oh, Roddy. Never I thought I’d love you.”
An electric thrill jolted my very senses. Could I have heard aright? I pulled back my head, looked into her eyes. They held no reproach. Her hand stroked my flank. Mine fumbled at her breast.
We lay entangled. For an instant my thoughts turned to Rustin. His touch, gentle as it was, held no compare. Joyfully, I sank into the bliss of love’s embrace. Her curves were so soft, so appealing. We squirmed together, ever more urgently.
Suddenly her face twisted. “Don’t!”
“Tresa ...” I kissed her anew.
Her nails bit into my shoulder, “Roddy, the Still! Your Power!”
I thrust against her, eager fingers stroking her stiff nipples, my other hand sunk behind her. Her words reached me. Had I—did I—no, I still throbbed with desire.
Lord of Nature! I leaped from the couch, twisted my breeks in shame at the bulge beneath. “Imps and—Oh, what did—” I fumbled under my clothes at my tangled loincloth. Roddy, the Virgin King, exposed in the full drollery of his plight. I would be ever a boy. My face flamed beet red.
“Roddy, I’m sor—”
I bolted to the door, fled to the stairs.
An Eiberian envoy delivered the invitation, in the most flowery language of state. Ingeniously, Tantroth managed to avoid the matter of my station, addressing me most courteously, but only by name. A tourney of swordplay among his men. Dinner to follow. Safe-conduct and assurances identical to those we’d given.
The Still Page 57
