Dark Lord of Geeragh

by Veronica Geoghegan Sweeney

  And this woke me. I lay there, listening to the snores of the other boys, none of whom I remembered coming to bed after me the night before. Seablite’s breathing was light and rapid, but Scabious, perhaps because of his nasal problems, snored loudly and long. It was this that made me dream of roaring brigands at play.

  I escaped the castle next day, and went wandering about the farm buildings. I visited the little mare in the stables, gave her a piece of carrot and was bitten for my generosity. I left her with a few well-chosen maledictions, and went out into the sunlight.

  When I heard the screams I thought, once more, that someone was being attacked. It was terrible, inhuman, and my blood ran cold. I ran around the corner of one of the barns - and stopped.

  The screams had ended in a gurgle, and I watched as the piglet, not yet dead, struggled in the small yard, two men bending over it… I was sick right there where I stood, and I was sick as I ran, back up towards the castle, though I had no idea of what direction I was taking. When I ran into a crowd I simply forced my way through, slowing only when I realised that the crowd was comprised of two concentric circles; on the outer ring were town-dwellers, workers and merchants and their families; in the inner circle the people were no ordinary folk: the clothes I brushed against, pushed against, were silks and velvets - and only then did I look about me.

  A space had been made - there was a hush but for several whispers and the scuffling of expensively shod feet. I was before a woman - thunderous stars, I had just collided with her! And my face was streaked with tears, and my nose was running. I wiped it quickly on my sleeve and looked up, hoping that this might be the Princess Jet come for a visit…

  The crown was so much finer than the Princess Jet’s modest coronet. This was a state crown - even I knew that. And she was wearing black, though the dress seemed to bear as much gold threads as it did black, and the face - it was not the Princess Jet.

  She had that old-young face about her that many of the Race of Heroes possessed. One could not define it, it went beyond age - they seemed to wear their wisdom rather than their years. One would say this woman was older than the Princess Jet - but in the luminosity of her face, one knew she would not be old for a long time, a long, long time.

  A breeze moved about us and it made me look up - for above her, the wind flicked and snapped at the red silk bearing the Standard, the Royal Standard, of Foyrr. I felt my knees - even my stiff knee - go weak. I looked about for the woman’s husband, or son, the wizard Amin. But there seemed to be only attendants, albeit richly clad, including several dour-faced women with black hair and sallow complexions. They looked as if they rarely smiled, and certainly they were not planning on smiling upon me.

  But the princess, or queen - for she must be one or the other - smiled at me. She smiled, and took a scarlet handkerchief from her sleeve, and handed it to me as subtly as possible within that circle of intent, distrustful eyes.

  I loved her for that. It was the beginning. I have never ceased loving her. She said to me, in a voice that was the most musical I had ever heard, and so softly spoken that perhaps I was the only one who heard, “Here is someone who looks at least as worried and afraid as I am. Is this so bad a place, my young friend? Should I go home again, while I still have the chance?”

  I attempted to wipe my face and nose as elegantly as I had seen Lord Bress use his black square of silk. I said, “No, My Lady.” For I did not want her to go home.

  Trumpets were blaring within. They were out of time a little, and one was a little sharp; I had the feeling that the heralds had been hastily summoned.

  Poli, Crorliss and the knights appeared abruptly at the top of the castle steps, so fast that it seemed as if they had been propelled, en masse, from the mouth of a cannon.

  Poli stared at me. “Fen!” she said in surprise.

  The royal lady looked down at me. “It seems we’re both unexpected,” she said with a smile that trembled a little. “Shall we go in together?”

  She reached out an elegantly jewelled hand, and I gave her my arm, as I had seen Lord Bress do for the Princesses, and together, at the head of the delegation, we walked up the stone steps and into the castle. Well, not quite at the head, for the standard bearers went before us, and one of them announced, in a loud, professional-sounding voice, “Her Royal Highness Aninn, Crown Princess of Foyrr!”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Damn, damn, damn!”

  Lord Bress kicked a chair across the floor and continued pacing. It did not occur to me to leave the room, for he and all his advisors were too busy to notice me. I had entered with Burdock as he brought the news of the Princess Aninn’s arrival, and had made myself as small as possible, immediately. From where I crouched on a stool by the window I could see and hear everything, and no one paid me the least mind.

  “A woman!” Lord Bress turned to Burdock as if for yet another verification. “A woman!”

  “Aye,” Burdock replied patiently, “and a beautiful one.”

  “Damn, damn, damn!”

  From Poli, fretfully, “We were not there to greet her at the gates! We’re so lucky the guards had the good sense to let the retinue pass, and ride ahead. What if they’d turned her away…? It doesn’t bear thinking about… such a lack of manners, let alone protocol…”

  “Bother the bloody protocol! It’s a woman!”

  Speedwell made as if to approach Lord Bress in his perambulations around the room, “My Lord, I can’t see that it makes any -”

  “Get out of my way!”

  Speedwell moved, and shrugged silently at his brothers and Crorliss.

  “What difference does it make?” Groundsel rumbled.

  “Aye,” from Speedwell. “If anything, this visit will be more interesting by half. I’ll show her about, My Lord, if you find it to be too much of a bore.”

  Groundsel said, “Maybe she has sense. Maybe she’s capable of speaking of matters of state -”

  “I don’t want to talk! I want results!” The Dark Lord had come up against another chair and it, too, was kicked from his path. “A baron! A duke! The King himself! Someone useful - to be thrown into one of the towers and kept there until I’d wrung a treaty of surrender from Foyrr! Once Foyrr topples, Arrach and Sowragh will follow! Where is this woman?” He whirled suddenly on Burdock, who started.

  “Resting now, she says. Mother showed her to the guest rooms in the east wing.”

  “Lucky I’ve kept them aired and clean,” said Poli cheerily, to the room at large. “I’ve never given up hope we’d have visitors these thirty years or so.”

  “Go to the Princess of Foyrr,” Lord Bress growled, “Tell her I demand - I request - her presence in the throne room in…” He looked at Poli. “How long does it take a woman to rest? Ten minutes? Twenty?”

  “Two hours,” said Poli, firmly, “at the least.”

  “Two hours?” Lord Bress pulled a silver watch from his pocket and glared at it. “Two hours time - eight o’clock.”

  Everyone looked taken aback. Before his mother could react, Burdock said, “What about dinner?”

  “Postpone dinner.”

  Two hours later found us, most of us with growling stomachs, standing in the throne room.

  There was a fanfare as the doors opened and a tall, gaunt woman in black sailed regally up the carpet towards the throne. Lord Bress glanced at Burdock, his eyebrows raised.

  “No, My Lord,” Burdock murmured, without moving his lips.

  Another woman in black followed the first. Another glance at Burdock, who gave an infinitesimal shake of his head.

  I could not resist it. I leaned across from my side of the throne and whispered to Lord Bress, “When you see her, you’ll know, My Lord. She’s beautiful.”

  Lord Bress glared at me. So did Burdock and Crorliss. On my side of the throne, Speedwell hauled me back with a surreptitious pull upon my doublet. I was outraged.

  Dark-clad lady after dark-clad lady entered the throne room and stationed herself before
the throne, each bowing to Lord Bress with expressions that ranged from the timid to the hostile. They lined up, three on either side of the red carpet, so when the Princess finally walked into the room Lord Bress had a clear view of her. She wore black, as did her ladies, but there all similarity ended; the skirt of her dress was enormous, like an over-turned, dark blossom. It spangled with tiny gems, and gems were in her hair, also, and around her neck and in the delicate filigree of her crown. Not coloured gems, but rather like white diamonds and something dark, like jet, or perhaps very dark sapphires. She walked like a queen, and the curtsy she gave My Lord was deep and elegant and bespoke her grace and good breeding.

  I looked at Lord Bress. To my surprise he did not look in the least impressed. His expression had not changed: it was his haughty State Occasion Expression, and I was severely disappointed. Even when he stood and moved down the steps from the throne, to lift her to her feet and kiss her hand, his expression did not alter. He said, in a cold and distant voice, “Welcome to Geeragh, Your Highness. Your visit is as welcome as it is unexpected.”

  The gentle warmth of her expression sparked into something more: I was close enough to see it in her eyes, that she knew he was mocking her, and once more to my surprise, she found it amusing.

  “My Lord Bress,” she murmured, lowering her gaze demurely, “I bring you greetings from my father, King Tiarn of Foyrr, and a wish for better communication between our two countries.”

  She turned, and we all followed her gaze towards the doors, for several strong soldiers in Foyrrian livery were entering, carrying caskets. They were laid at Lord Bress’s feet. He scowled at them.

  “These, My Lord,” and she smiled, and disengaged her hand gently from his, for he seemed to have forgotten that he still held it, “These, My Lord, are gifts from my country to yours.”

  The caskets were opened as she spoke of them. “Here is gold… here is fine silver plate for your table, My Lord… here…” a casket of glass vials, “potions that are guaranteed to heal a lame horse, and here…” More glass vials, “medicine for humans, My Lord. Something I have been working on myself, only just perfected but tested with one hundred percent success - a cure for the Great Sniffling Sickness.”

  This was indeed news. Crorliss murmured, “Great stars…” and I’m sure it was all he could do not to rush at the last casket. He was not alone in his excitement, the entire throne room was abuzz. Only Lord Bress and the Princess stood quietly, and behind her, her ladies, looking very satisfied with themselves, even smug.

  Of course, the Race of Heroes such as Lord Bress and Princess Aninn did not suffer from the Great Sniffling Sickness, but all us lesser mortals did. What a help this cure would be for the common people! And how did the Princess come to discover it, when, throughout history, all wizards and healers had failed?

  I looked up again at Crorliss, and I could see the same question in the dark eyes of the alchemist as he looked at the Princess. It was not a pleasant look.

  Lord Bress said, “I thank you and your father for your kind gifts.” and he actually smiled. When he tried he could display good manners, I decided, and was relieved and proud of him. Even at that early stage I felt very protective of the Princess Aninn; any shameful behaviour on the part of my master would have reflected badly upon myself.

  But he smiled, and he looked very handsome, and the interest in his eyes as he looked at his visitor was not, I think, feigned. Even he must have wondered at her power, to provide such examples of scientific excellence. He took her hand once more. “We will talk in my study.”

  The trumpets blared again as Lord Bress led the Princess over to the great doors that led to his study. I think we were all looking forward to this with interest.

  Two guard opened the doors, the two royal personages walked through - then Lord Bress turned and said, “Thank you all, we do not wish to be disturbed.”

  “But, my ladies…! Hold the doors!”

  The doors had begun to close, but the guards hesitated. This was a Crown Princess, their instinct to obey was suddenly divided.

  “They are ladies-in-waiting, are they not?” said My Lord, smoothly. “Let them wait.”

  “It is not the custom in my country to be without the attendance of my ladies!” there was a heightened colour to the Princess’s cheeks. She stood her ground superbly, and I thought for a second that Lord Bress would accede, but he did not.

  “They will attend from behind a closed door,” he said firmly, and nodded to the guards. With some gratitude, I think, they shut the doors firmly, and went back to standing at attention on either side of it.

  The ladies in black did a strange thing. With a single cry they rushed towards the doors, like so many black crows seeing a single fat worm in the grass.

  But I was too fast for them, faster even than Speedwell and Burdock and the guards. I ducked under the waving black wings of the women and came up hard against the doors, and there I turned and faced the throne room.

  The Geerans present began to smile, but immediately hid it; the great ladies of Foyrr stood in a semi-circle and looked at me with unblinking and hostile eyes, cheated and unforgiving.

  Groundsel said afterwards that I looked as ferocious as he himself, but I think I must have had something of the look of my mother in those moments; I did not know how or why I should be protective of those two people within that room, but I was. And my mother’s ferocity in defending her own must have been written there on my face.

  It was Burdock who broke the tension, displaying a gallantry that I hardly knew he possessed, as he addressed the visitors, “My Ladies, rest assured that My Lord will not detain your princess for long, but after so many years there would, of course, be many delicate matters of State which they must discuss. Here are some chairs, most comfortable.” And he had taken one lady by the hand with a respectful bow. “Rest yourselves, and await your lady. And soon we will all dine at a splendid banquet in your honour, to celebrate this most welcome visit.”

  The black-clad ladies were not the least impressed by this, but they looked once more at the guards with their pikes, and at my belligerent face, and allowed themselves to be led off, each on the arm of a male Geeran courtier.

  The seats were some distance away along the walls. Crorliss, the last to escort one of the women, jerked his head that I was to follow. I said nothing, but sank down upon the floor, my back still firmly against the door. Crorliss’s furious look said, Obdurate child, but he could not afford to make a scene, so I was left where I was, before the ill-fitting door of My Lord’s private chamber.

  “So,” said the Lord of Geeragh. And there was a rather long pause. “So,” he said again.

  “My Lord,” said the Princess with quiet authority, “I must insist that we have witnesses to this meeting.”

  “Why?” in what seemed genuine surprise. “Are you afraid of me?”

  “No! It’s just… protocol, My Lord.”

  “Oh, bother all that.”

  “No, My Lord, we will not ‘bother all that’. Without witnesses, claims can be made, agreements, accusations… nothing can be substantiated.”

  “Oh, so I’m a bully and a liar, now.”

  “No, My Lord, I said no such thing.”

  “You implied it.”

  “This, My Lord,” she went on with great patience, “is why we need witnesses.”

  “You need someone to tell you if I’m bullying or lying? Can’t you trust your own judgement, woman?”

  “Of course I can! But political protocol -”

  “Only confuses matters. The more politicians involved, the more protocol, and the more confusing. Tell me what you want from me.”

  “What? What I… I came as a visitor of good will between our two -”

  “Yes, yes, I know all that, you said it in your letter.” A note of resentment crept into his voice; I hoped the Princess would not notice. “We thought you were a man, you know. Your signature: H.R.H., an A, and lots of little squiggles with the dot of the
i in the wrong place… You have very bad handwriting.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, although there was a smile in her voice as if she was not bothered at all. “I was never gifted at the princessly arts. My harp playing is pedestrian and my needlework a disgrace. I dance well, though.”

  “Do you?” a note of interest in His Lordship’s voice. That was very odd. Whoever danced in Geeragh?

  “From an early age I interested myself in my mother’s arts - she was a healer of -”

  “Do you hunt?”

  “A silence, then, “No, My Lord,” in a cold voice. “I do not like to see the creatures of the earth harried and frightened.”

  There was another silence. I was thinking of the silver deer in the Forest of Lirr; I wondered if Lord Bress was thinking the same thing. I thought, too, of the piglet that had died screaming that afternoon…

  “Nor do I eat the flesh of animals or fish.”

  “What?”

  She repeated her words. Heavy footsteps approached. I was already standing and moving away from the door. Lord Bress opened it; he seemed relieved to see me.

  “Only vegetables and fruits at the banquet tonight. No meat or fish!” he said to me in a low and urgent whisper, “Tell Poli!”

  The door shut once more. Burdock was already crossing to me; I relayed the message and, rolling his eyes, he turned and left the throne room hurriedly. I returned to sit against the doors.

  “…An ambitious healer, to have your work take you across the Southern Mountains into a country as hostile as Geeragh. Are you a witch?”

  Was he mad? What an insult!

  “More or less,” the Princess replied.

  “Rather more than less, I think. You didn’t mention it in your letter.”

  “I can assure you, I wasn’t sent to work any mischief on you -”