For all the books I had read, there had been no mention of this, the story of the beginnings of Tieranor. I was spellbound. If what Poli said was true, then the plants in the secret Garden rightly belonged, not just to the Dark Lord of Geeragh, but to the whole of Tieranor.
“And… no one knows how to use them? What they’re for?” I managed.
Poli searched in her pockets, found her handkerchief and blew her nose. “Some, like Crorliss, have tried, but they’ve had little success. And even Crorliss has been forbidden access to the Garden since he blew the roof off the west turret,” she sniffed.
I stared at her and giggled. She looked up at me, then smiled unwillingly, then gave a giggle herself. The next moment we were both laughing wildly.
When we had recovered a little, I asked, “But what is the Garden like? Would Lord Bress let me see it?”
“It’s forbidden to everyone but His Lordship, Fen,” she was once again wiping tears from her eyes, but they were tears of laughter, this time.
“Have you seen it?”
“Once, many years ago. I went with Crorliss to help him by carrying the harmless flowers. He had to concentrate on his own basket - full of Spitting Poppies and Snapping Dragons - even at seeding time the flowers can still give a nasty bite.”
I thought she was teasing me, but she continued to wipe her tears and blow her nose and seemed quite unaffected by her odd story.
“Poli, I would like to see that garden more than… more than almost anything.”
“You can, pet. His Lordship’s bedchamber looks directly down upon it.”
“But one can’t see anything from up there. I want to walk in the Garden. You have all the keys to the castle, do you not? Couldn’t I borrow the key tomorrow, for only a few minutes? Poli, I give you my word I’ll bring it straight back!”
Her eyes narrowed. “Now what sort of a fool would you be thinking I am? I’d not let you loose amongst such magic, young Fen,” she raised her voice over my protests, “even if I did have a key to the Garden, which I don’t.”
“Oh.”
She looked at me, and sighed, and stood and stretched. “Arra, this has been a long and bothersome day, and you’re a bothersome boy, Fen. The Lord Bress has the only key, kept amongst his personal keys. Perhaps,” seeing my disappointment, “he’ll allow you to accompany himself and the Princess when he takes her to the Garden.”
“When he takes her to the Garden.”
“When he takes her to the Garden,” she repeated with her implacable calm.
I was nearly out the door when I felt I had to turn and ask, “Poli, do you think the Princess Aninn will marry Lord Bress?”
“I think so. I certainly hope so.” She smiled at me. “Don’t you?”
I could not lie. “No,” I said, and quit the room.
A marriage between the beautiful Princess Aninn and the Dark Lord of Geeragh…
I had been startled, that night, to hear that Lord Bress believed the hopes of his people lay in that direction. At first I was able to dismiss it, but in the days following the Royal Tour, I seemed to hear the subject everywhere. “Marriage…”, “Marriage…”, “An alliance…”, “A wedding…”, “A wedding…” echoed in the alcoves off the Great Hall, in the armoury, in the gardens, the kitchens, the stables.
“A wedding…”, “A wedding…”
I was horrified - and blindly, unreasonably jealous. He had proved himself a good master - not nearly the ogre I had believed him to be - but he was not good enough for her, he simply was not.
I began to watch them more closely. She had acquiesced, and now wore a different, coloured gown every day - blue, or green, or violet or turquoise -surely that meant she wanted to please him? But they often quarrelled, which had once puzzled me; now, when they quarrelled I felt pleased, relieved. She never quarrelled with me. Her face lit up when she saw me. But with the Dark Lord she would become cold and stiff the minute he entered her presence, and he seemed to want to be in her presence all the time. They always seemed to have matter relating to Geeragh or Foyrr to talk about - but sometimes they didn’t talk at all. They would lapse into silence and gaze at one another, sometimes glowing, sometimes guardedly. This was not a true friendship; he was making her uncomfortable. She began to smile less and less.
The Princess Aninn, it seemed, began to succeed where my mother, however much I loved her and the memory of my father, had failed: I began to hate the Dark Lord of Geeragh.
Sitting in the solarium, while her ladies worked on their tapestries and Aninn, dressed in a rose-coloured gown, practised the harp, I brooded and brooded, wondering if the rumours were true, if she would be foolish enough to believe he loved her, when he had plans, dark plans; he must have, had he not plotted from the time he knew she would arrive? Prince or princess, he had had some vile scheme in which Aninn was merely a pawn. She couldn’t trust him. Surely she would not put her faith in him, believe whatever he told her in those moments they shared alone. My thoughts bubbled over and I knew I had to speak, had to know. With what I hoped was a casualness of tone, I said, “You don’t really like him, do you?” forgetting, until the words were out of my mouth, that she could not know what I was speaking of.
She looked a little startled and glanced over at her ladies, but they were not within hearing, being busy talking amongst themselves in a patch of sunlight by the windows.
“Your master? Yes, I do like him.” She regarded me gravely. “Don’t you?”
“Yes.” It was said rather flatly, and I looked up to find her still gazing at me, and still that grave look was upon her face.
I was sorry I had spoken, and to change the subject I mentioned something that had been on my mind for some time, something I had long wished to ask her, for I was beginning to think of the time when I should have to go home and face my mother, and I wanted to have something to tell her besides the fact that the Dark Lord of Geeragh was still alive.
“You’ve studied the history of Foyrr, and you know a lot, because - after all - you’re a Princess, so… I was wondering…” It was harder to ask than I thought, and I realised why I had taken so long about it: I was afraid of what the answer might be. “Do you think,” I finished in a rush, “that my father might have survived the sea battle that he fought? Did many sailors from Geeragh survive the War? He might have been taken prisoner aboard one of the Foyrrian ships…”
“Fen, I must tell you. Lord Bress mentioned the battle that your father’s ship was engaged in. There was a double tragedy for Geeragh: before the battle could begin there was a great storm. Most of the ships from Geeragh were sunk before they ever came in sight of the Foyrrian fleet, which was able to make it to various harbours. Not many Geeran sailors survived.”
“But some did. Some must have,” I cried in desperation. “Someone in Foyrr must know! Someone -” And I was taken by an idea so wonderful and so simple that it was remarkable that I had not thought of it before. I stood from my seat upon a stool and came to stand by her. “When you go back to Foyrr - which will be quite soon, won’t it? - I could come with you, and I could look for my father!”
The lovely face beneath the cloud of copper hair was filled with pity. “Fen, your chances of finding him -”
“Staying here, I’d never find him, I’d never know!”
She tried to smile, and put her arms about me. “My dear, Lord Bress needs you here; I don’t think he would let you go so far away.”
So she did not want to take me. She did not, after all, care about me, or she would see how important it was that I know what happened to my father. She was just like all the other grown-ups, after all.
Stung, I pulled back out of her grasp. “I’ll find my father by myself,” I retorted, and, unable to stop my hurt from running away with my tongue, “I don’t think he’ll let you go home, anyway.”
She stiffened. “What do you mean? He must allow me to go home. Fen?” The lovely eyes narrowed a little, “What do you know that you’re not telling me?”<
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And within me there began to be a rather sick, coiling feeling; then, I knew only that I felt ill, now I know it to have been the first twisting, grappling battle between my loyalties.
“Fen,” she repeated, and placed a hand on my arm, “has the Lord of Geeragh said anything -”
“Nothing,” I lied. “Not to me,” I amended, truthfully enough. “It’s just… it’s something I think; he’s been with you every day for a fortnight, and he’s different. He smiles. He talks to you, when he doesn’t talk to anyone else. Everyone says you should stay. I think he want you to… stay.” I wanted to mention the word marriage - but perhaps the Princess hadn’t thought of it herself, yet. I did not want her to begin considering it.
“Fen,” patiently, “Lord Bress and I talk of methods of government, agriculture, economics… I’m here for a friendly visit, in the interests of science. As soon as I’ve collected the specimens I need from the Private Garden, I’ll be going home, I assure you.”
“If I can get you the keys to the Garden, will you promise you’ll take me with you?”
She looked rather shocked, but then, for a second, just a second, I saw the longing in her face. But it was gone, and the very proper grown-up, and a princess at that, was in its place. “Lord Bress will give me the plants, because he has given his words,” she said, firmly. “And when I have the specimens I need, I will request that you come to Foyrr with me, for a visit. Will that make you happy, my dear?”
“It won’t happen,” I said, sulkily, backing away from her towards the door, not caring, now, that her ladies were listening, very hard, like black hens in a yard, waiting for a hand on the kitchen door that would mean table scraps. “It won’t happen! Ask to be taken to the Garden, and you’ll see that I’m right! He doesn’t want you to have the plants! He’ll never let you have them! Ask him!”
And I fled the room in angry frustration and shame, for I had betrayed them both. Now what would happen?
By the time I was brave enough to try to find my master, the Princess Aninn had been closeted with him in his study for nearly half an hour. The knights hovered about in the Hall, looking disgruntled, as did Poli, who had several rolls of parchment held to her breast and said that the Princess had interrupted the signing of the papers that would authorise the following quarter’s supply of food and fuel.
“Let ’im eat flowers for dinner, and then he’d get his priorities straight,” she was heard to mutter to Speedwell as I went past.
I took up my usual post against the doors. No one else was nearby except the two guards on either side of the doorway. I glanced at them and thought, they must have discovered years ago that one can hear everything within that room. Yet they, and their fellow guards all over the castle, never showed themselves aware of whatever went on within. And so often a great deal did. Perhaps they were chosen for their positions, I thought, by their singular lack of curiosity.
And this afternoon, despite all my hopes, the conversation that I had suggested the Princess have with Lord Bress was actually taking place. I glanced once more from one guard’s impassive face to the other and wondered if they would soon be called upon to arrest me. In the meantime I listened, and tried not to let the fear show upon my face.
“You cannot be serious!” the Princess was saying. “I came here with the express mission to collect the four varieties of plants that I require - the Gold-Leaf Celandine, the Rose-on-a-Cloud, the blue variety of Love-in-Idleness and the Scarlet Yarrow. In your letter -”
“In my letter I said your visit would be welcome; I said I would be pleased to consider your request to view my garden and collect specimens. I would be pleased to consider your request. Go find my letter and you’ll see that I’m speaking the truth.” He moved away a little, but I knew his tone of voice well by now: he was discomforted, because he knew he was in the wrong.
“I cannot believe this, I cannot! All the weeks I’ve wasted here…” She seemed to be scolding herself.
“Wasted! Wasted! Is that how you see it? Is that what it has meant -?”
“You know that’s not what I meant! I -”
“This is undoubtedly why this War has dragged on for a hundred and ten years, for the Foyrrian Royal Family regards visits of State to be wastes of time!”
“That’s not what I -! Oh, how dare you quibble over my figures of speech, My Lord, when I overlooked your letter’s pontificating rhetoric - yes! hints at double-dealing! - and chose to view it as a whole, in the welcoming, graceful manner of one honourable member of the aristocracy to another. And now you tell me… I do not understand, My Lord, truly I do not. Why did you have me come here at all?”
And suddenly my heart lifted. She had him cornered, now; he would have to tell her the truth, and she would see him for what he truly was: she would see how cruelly he would have used her brothers had they come in her place, and how cruelly he might use her, even yet. But I would rescue her. I would think of something. I would…
“Because I thought you were a Prince of Foyrr…”
Yes. Yes!
“…and would therefore know more about the military situation than you do.”
Coldly, Her Highness said, “I have a perfect understanding of the military situation.”
“You have persistently refused to be drawn into discussions on finding an end to the conflict between our two countries -”
“Im my letter I explained that this was not to be the purpose in my coming here: I serve a greater good in serving mankind -”
“So I understand,” and there was contempt - real, feigned? - in the deep voice. “The business of the herbs - the very valuable herbs which could be highly dangerous in the wrong hands - was not a ruse after all.”
“So - you allowed the visit of this mysterious Prince only to wring from him highly sensitive military information? And you find that you have, instead, a Princess, whose interests are merely horticultural. You must feel very foolish.”
“I?”
“And what happens now?”
“I do not feel foolish! I have seen through -”
“I shall tell you what happens now. Tomorrow morning I will return to Foyrr - and…” there was a change in her voice. “I must ask you - though this is perhaps not the right time… I would like you to allow young Fen to accompany me.”
“What?”
Oh, how my heart lifted! Even in the midst of her own distress, she thought of me.
“He grieves for his father, Bress - you and I owe him the truth to find what happened to -”
“Am I to allow every bereaved relative of every soldier who has fallen in my service to leave the country -?!”
“No, My Lord! Let me finish! I… I am sure, that back in Foyrr there are healers that can cure his injured leg, Bress. I could, perhaps, do it myself, but it’s dangerous, and I want the help of my own advisors…”
“You take too much upon yourself, Your Highness.”
I had never heard this tone in his voice. I shivered.
“Surely you would not stand in the way of the boy -”
“He will not go. I forbid it. If you wish to heal him, you may attempt to do so here. But you are not taking any member of my court out of Geeragh to be a pawn and hostage in Foyrr.”
There was a shocked pause. “A… pawn? That little boy - a hostage? What do you think I am… how dare you demean my honour to even suggest…”
There was another silence, and I don’t believe my heart beat in all that time, until -
“I can’t stay another minute,” and to my consternation there were tears, tears, in her voice. “Now, this very minute, I will return to Foyrr, and I doubt if diplomatic channels will be opened between our countries for a very long time, My Lord!”
No! If she left as angry as she seemed to be, she would not take me with her - and Lord Bress would never be persuaded to let me go…
Aninn spoke as she moved towards the doors, “And such misunderstandings as we have had will be averted in the future, My Lord,
if you could attempt to avoid the dishonesty you seem to see in others all around you! Oh…!”
Something thumped very hard against the wooden doors; I started in fright, thinking, at first, that the Dark Lord of Geeragh had thrown the Princess of Foyrr at the door. But then I realised, from the proximity of his voice that he had - albeit violently - reached the door before her.
In a low growl he said, “You will remain until I tell you you are dismissed.”
“Then I shall wait.” There was a squeak as of wood across stone, as if she had flung herself down in a chair, pushing it back across the floor a little.
After a pause, the effort to remain calm was evident in his voice when he began, “While you are here, I feel we should discuss the real matter at hand. The War between our two countries.”
“I’ll discuss nothing locked in a room with a madman!”
“Then I shall ask you again tomorrow. And the next day. Neither you nor any member of your retinue will leave the castle until this matter is clarified.”
“All I wanted was the Gold-Leaf Celandine and the Rose-on-a-cloud and-”
“When the peace talks have come to a satisfactory conclusion I shall arrange for you to take the plants back to Foyrr with you.”
A surprised pause. And then a suspicious one.
“I am not,” she said heavily, “authorised to negotiate a peace.”
“But you are well-qualified to do so,” his tone was almost cheerful, “I think you are eminently suitable. And we have had a pleasant, workable retationship to date, have we not?”
“You are despicable!”
“You haven’t been unhappy with your treatment here, have you? It will continue in the same vein. Nothing will change.”
“It has all changed. Everything has changed.” There was another pause, then she said, “How long do you estimate these peace talks will take, My Lord?”
Dark Lord of Geeragh Page 10
