by J. P. Ashman
‘I’m not as lucky as some,’ he dared say, nodding past Flavell to a handsome man who entered the hall.
‘Nephew!’ Eudes bellowed, surging to his feet. ‘Come, join your favourite uncle.’
Croal de Geelan made his way through the crowd to stand by Eudes’ side, smiling and nodding greetings to people as he went. He wore white hose tied to a richly embroidered blue doublet, nothing covering it. Looking around the room, Flavell realised the uncovered doublet was some sort of summer fashion for many of the men present, all of which wore colour-matching stalked caps, unlike Amis. She frowned at that.
Amis guided Flavell closer to their hosts, so they could hear Eudes speak to his nephew.
‘Croal is a handsome man,’ Amis said, although it sounded bitter to Flavell.
‘Indeed, he is,’ she said, smirking when she saw a flash of anger play across Amis’ face, even if it were for half a heartbeat.
Eudes slapped his nephew on the back, before pulling him into a tight embrace. At arm’s length now, Eudes spun Croal to face a barrel-chested man off to the side, who stepped forward and offered the young seneschal a curt nod in greeting.
‘You know my guest, nephew?’
Croal smiled and clasped the stranger’s hand. ‘I do indeed. I remember the last time you visited us, my lord Earl,’ Croal said, the latter in Altolnan.
‘But of course,’ the Earl said, breaking the grasp, ‘how could any of us forget my last visit. Even if it were years passed.’ Although the Earl spoke Sirretan well, his accent butchered the language. Flavell hid a smirk. She liked the big man. She didn’t know why, but she did. She watched the exchange intently, as did Amis at her side.
Croal smiled. ‘When you said we’d meet again, I had no idea it would be like this?
‘Fine attire,’ Croal added before the Earl could respond. He nodded to the well-fitting tunic and hose of green and black the Earl wore.
The burly man nodded his thanks. ‘Your uncle was kind enough to have me measured and fitted. I can only compliment the tailor and seamstresses who made the garment. It wouldn’t have done to attend in the attire I arrived in, would it, my lord Seneschal?’
Croal smiled and bowed his capped head to the man without saying another word. He turned back to his uncle, who led him away to the food tables, Eudes’ daughters pulling at their cousin’s doublet as they giggled and skipped alongside.
‘Who’s the Earl?’ Flavell asked, tipping her wine glass towards the sour faced man Croal had spoken to.
Amis shrugged. ‘I’m not sure, but judging by his accent and his current expression, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s an Altolnan prisoner through chivalric code.’
Flavell actually rolled her eyes this time. She pulled from Amis’ hold and made her way back to the wine servants. ‘Men,’ she cursed, whilst dodging attempted offers to dance from more of the same, Amis de Valmont close on her heels.
***
‘My love is as an inferno, Emms. It burns in my heart—’
Emms huffed. ‘Well, I’m sorry to be such a pain, Quin.’
‘That’s not what I meant, my love.’
A deep sigh and a sudden tear came from Emms. ‘I know,’ she said, unable to meet Quin’s eyes. ‘I know… but it’s not enough anymore. Not now, at least; not as I am now.’
Quin frowned. ‘What do you mean?’ His voice shook, hands trembling to match. He dropped to his knees and took Emms’ cold hands – they were forever cold, he mused – in his own.
‘I need action, Quin. Not words,’ she said, looking down at him. ‘They say they speak louder, don’t they? They say actions speak louder than words, and all you can offer me is words it seems, and the love that comes with them of course…’
Quin made to speak, to protest, but was cut off.
‘And that’s fine,’ Emms said hurriedly. ‘Just not right now. It’s all too much for me right now.’
Quin’s eyes searched for Emms’ own, but no meeting was made.
‘You’ve spent so much time talking about us,’ Emms went on, after an uncomfortable silence, ‘about our future together, that you’ve missed out on the now, on the couple we are now and on the moments we had.’ She looked down at him. ‘I can’t do that anymore: miss out. I’m not for marrying off,’ she went on, her bottom lip quivering, ‘like some lord’s daughter. I have no dowry—’
‘And I expect none, nor want one.’ Quin’s voice broke, caught on the last, his insides twisting.
‘I know. Again, I know…’ her eyes drifted, welling as they were. ‘I know you so well, Quinnell,’ she whispered. ‘Too well.’
Quin’s face wrinkled, creased, and he squeezed her hands. She looked back to him.
‘There’s nothing left for me to discover about you. No wonder to be had. Nothing to skip my slowing heart.
‘Quin, I’m sorry, truly I am.’
Breaking down fully, Quin failed to hold onto Emms as she pulled away from him, a silver ring left in his grasping hands, a folded, gifted dress on the bed. He failed to speak, failed to use the words she claimed were all he had.
‘I hope you can forgive me,’ Emms said, without turning, as she walked to the room’s door.
‘All I want to do is love you…’ was Quin’s only reply, once he managed to choke back the tears. When she didn’t turn, he slumped to the floor, his world spinning away from him.
He barely heard the door close as Emms left the room.
Chapter 7 – A different light
After circling a hillock topped by a copse of trees, the pathfinders halted below a shallow dip in the ground, the edges of which were thick with gorse. Beginning to dismount, they turned to the sound of hooves as Sav rode in.
‘I take it we won’t be stopping in the hamlet I scouted to the west?’ Sav reined in alongside Fal.
‘Doesn’t look like it,’ Fal said, removing his mount’s harness. ‘Correia said we’re camping here.’
‘We haven’t set up yet, we can move on,’ Sav said, leaning down from the saddle.
Fal continued what he was doing. ‘Go ask her.’
Sav swung down off his horse. ‘Never mind.’
‘Ask me what?’ Correia said from the dip where she’d taken her horse.
‘He’s scouted a hamlet,’ Fal said, loud enough for Correia to hear as she went about clearing the ground, Errolas helping her do so.
‘We need to avoid populated areas for now, in case of witchunters,’ she said, Gleave now joining in with the clearing. ‘You know that, Sav.’
Sav huffed and handed the reins to Fal. ‘See to the horses, mate,’ he said, before stomping off.
‘Sav?’ Fal looked to his friend, who didn’t reply.
‘What’s with him?’ Gleave said, walking over to Fal with an armful of stones. He dumped them at Fal’s feet.
‘Thanks.’ Fal kicked the larger stones aside.
‘You’re welcome.’ Gleave stood and watched Sav descend the hill. ‘Well?’ he said, when Fal offered no more. ‘Was it my fingers in Correia’s mouth the other day? He’s been a moody dick ever since.’
Fal turned and Gleave was grinning. Before he could say anything, Correia appeared.
‘Button it, Gleave. Now head out with Starks and hunt, we need to replenish our stock, that deer didn’t last as long as I’d hoped.’
‘Great,’ Gleave said, hands on hips, looking to Starks who glared back. ‘I’m to go hunting with the deer stalker, eh? Fair enough. Starks!’ he shouted.
‘I can hear you. I’m stood right here.’
‘Grab your crossbow and follow me, I’m not waiting all night.’
Fal and Correia shared a withering look before going about their business.
‘Errolas,’ Correia said, as the two hunters walked off, picking at each other all the while.
‘Correia?’
‘Grab the pot from my saddlebag and let's get a fire going, a tripod and some water on the boil, eh?’
Errolas smiled, nodded and got to it. Correia pull
ed Fal to one side.
‘What’s wrong?’ Fal asked, looking into Correia’s eyes, eyes heavy with a burden.
‘Sav.’
‘Sav?’
‘Yes, Sav, and you know it, Fal.’
Taking a deep breath, Fal nodded. ‘Aye, I do.’
‘Go on,’ she said, lifting her chin for him to explain.
Fal grunted a laugh. ‘Can you not see what’s eating at him?’ Correia frowned so Fal went on. ‘It’s you, Correia. He’s sore because of you.’ She rocked back, genuinely shocked. ‘Surely you know he likes you?’
‘Well yes,’ Correia admitted, eyes leaving Fal’s to follow the path Sav took. ‘Of course I know, but like doesn’t do this to someone.’
‘It might when they think the person they like is with another.’
She looked back to Fal. ‘Who? Who would I be with, here?’
‘Gleave?’ Fal raised his eyebrows in anticipation, but again Correia looked shocked. Fal leaned in. ‘The fingers?’
‘Eh?’
‘In the mouth…’
Correia’s laugh drew the attention of Errolas, although both knew he could probably hear every word they said anyway.
‘The fool burnt his fingers. I was cooling them is all.’
Fal’s laugh matched Correia’s. ‘I know that, but does Sav? And even if he does, would it matter? When you feel…’ Fal paused, fidgeted.
‘Go on.’
‘When you like someone like he does you, you don’t often rationalise things. You over react to them, no?’
Correia took a deep breath and released a heavy sigh, rubbing at her face as she did so. ‘I didn’t ask for this,’ she said through her hands.
‘And you think Sav did?’
‘No.’ Again, muffled through rubbing hands. She lowered them to look at Fal. They both heard flint on steel as Errolas made fire.
‘What do I do?’ she asked.
Another laugh. ‘You think I know?’ Fal shook his head.
‘Well you’re his friend.’
‘We’re all friends, Correia. Or so I’d like to think.’
‘You know what I mean. You’ve known him years.’
‘I have, and I’ve seen him swoon over many a lass, but not like this.’
‘Oh don’t say it like that.’ Correia walked away a little, turned a circle and looked up to the empty sky.
‘Talk to him.’
‘Not likely.’
‘Then this’ll continue,’ Fal said, moving to and putting his hands on Correia’s shoulders. ‘We can’t let this continue though, can we? We need our wits about us, every one, and we need to work together, not fight or avoid each other.’
‘That goes for Gleave and Starks too,’ Correia said, looking back into Fal’s kind eyes. He smiled.
‘Don’t change the subject. We’ll cross that one in time. Talk to Sav, I’m sure it’ll help. Explain what happened with Gleave—’
‘I shouldn’t have to.’
‘No, Correia, maybe not, but it might help. Talk to him.’
‘And say what? I can’t change how he feels about me, can I?’
‘Tell him how you feel about him.’
Correia snorted and pulled away, turning her back on Fal. ‘Please,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing there.’
‘If you say so,’ Fal said, smiling, ‘but talk to him all the same. The mission can’t be put at risk because of such things; tell him that. He’s professional if nothing else, when it comes down to scouting and fighting and such. Gods, tell him it’s something that will have to wait, to see if anything will happen between you two.’
‘No!’ Correia said, incredulous. ‘I’m not giving him false hope where there might not be any.’
‘Might not?’ Fal grinned.
‘See to the horses, Sergeant.’
Smile remaining, Fal bowed his head and moved away, Correia hesitating before moving in the opposite direction.
‘Who’d you think will bring food back first?’ Correia asked Sav, who was sat on a smooth outcrop of limestone. His shoulders rose then fell.
‘Oh please, Sav,’ Correia said, sitting next to the scout. ‘Don’t be so melodramatic, it doesn’t suit you. Took me a while to find you.’
‘That’s what you want of your pathfinders isn’t it? Hard to find. Sneaky.’
Lips pursed, Correia nodded. ‘Sneaky, yes, that’s a preferable skill set for a pathfinder. Mardy arse isn’t, though.’
‘You’re one to talk.’ Sav’s head lifted from his knees at that, turning to take in the woman by his side.
‘And you’re treading thin ice.’
Sav looked forward again and dropped his head to his knees. ‘Ice. Cold like you, eh?’
‘You think I’m cold, Sav? Well that cuts to the quick.’
‘Pfft. Not likely.’
‘You think I lack feelings? You think because I have to be hard all the time that I enjoy it? Eh?’ Nothing. ‘Sav?’ Another shrug.
Correia stood and held out a hand. ‘Walk with me.’
Sav didn’t answer, didn’t even look to the offered hand.
‘Treat that as an order if you prefer, scout.’
Sav stood and hesitated a moment when he saw her outstretched hand.
Correia moved forward and took Sav’s, since he failed to offer it. She pulled him along, back up towards the camp. ‘We need move,’ she said, ‘before one of Starks’ bolts blows us to bits.’ She caught a smirk on Sav’s face at that.
‘He’s doing well,’ Sav managed, as they walked along hand in hand.
‘He is,’ Correia said. ‘I know it, you know it and Gleave knows it.’ Sav’s hand tightened around hers.
‘Burnt fingers,’ Correia said, when Sav remained quiet.
‘Sorry?’
‘Gleave burnt his fingers and I was cooling them, nothing more, Sav.’
On they walked for a time, nothing being said.
‘I know.’
Correia’s eyes widened. ‘You know?’ She looked at him as they continued to walk.
Sav nodded. ‘What I don’t know, is whether you’d do the same for me. You and Gleave have been together a long time.’
‘Yes, Sav, we have. A long time and yet nothing more than soothing burnt fingers has ever happened between Gleave and me.’
Sav swallowed hard, before licking dry lips.
Correia stopped and pulled Sav’s hand, turning him to face her. I don’t know what to tell you, Sav, she thought. I don’t even know how to deal with how I feel, let alone how you feel.
Sav offered her a tight smile as he swallowed once more.
‘You’re normally full of confidence, on the verge of hubris I’d say. Especially when it comes to talking about women.’
Looking away, Sav took a deep breath. A pull on his hand brought him back round to Correia, who smiled.
‘I don’t know what to say to you.’
Sav smiled weakly. ‘You don’t have to say anything, Correia.’
‘Maybe not, but I want to. I want you to be… you! I want you to be set for the mission, not distracted—’
‘For the mission,’ Sav said, laughing suddenly, bitterly. He pulled his hand free and continued on towards the camp.
‘Sav!’
On he walked.
‘Sav! Stop walking. Now!’
Correia’s tone of voice stopped him dead. He turned and she was there, before him. Reaching up on her toes, Correia pulled Sav’s head down by his chin, until they were close.
‘Honestly, Sav… If you want that; if you want honesty?’ He nodded. ‘I don’t know how I feel right now, about you or any of what is happening to the south, within the kingdom. I need my head straight and I need constants around me so I can operate properly. So I can do the best for my King. Can you understand that?’
Sav took a deep breath but nodded.
‘I can’t explore feelings right now. I can’t go there, Sav. I’m asking you not to make me, not to push me. Is that so bad?’ He shook his head, alt
hough she noticed his breaths were ragged. He chewed at his bottom lip and several muscles in his face twitched. It was all Correia could do not to cry, and that scared her more than anything else. Oh Sav, what are you doing to yourself, she thought. What are you doing to me?
Sav raised both hands and placed them on Correia’s face, leaned down and kissed Correia on the forehead. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered, and offered the sincerest smile she’d seen for days.
‘I can’t promise there’d be anything from me in the future—’
‘I know.’
‘But I wanted you to know there’s no games, Sav. I do what I need to do and I come last to all of it. If, once all this is figured out, all this is resolved and the kingdom finds itself in some semblance of normality again, perhaps I can explore what might be. Does that make sense?’
Sav was nodding before she’d finished. He smiled again, turned away and wiped at his eyes, although he made it seem as though there was something in one of them. Correia was no fool.
‘Come on,’ he said eventually. ‘We need to be back to stop Gleave rubbing Starks’ face in the fact he failed to bring food in first, if at all.’
Nodding, Correia agreed, before following the man she was now thinking of in a different light.
By the time they reached the dip in the hillock, the light was failing and there was laughter and the flicker of firelight illuminating the camp, followed by the smell of roasting venison.
‘Well? Sav said, walking up to the firelight, Correia close behind. Fal looked to Sav, eyebrows raised. Sav shook his head, almost imperceptibly, but smiled all the same. Fal nodded, looked to Correia and received the same from her.
Starks was sat back against his saddle, positively beaming. Gleave, on the other hand - Pecker nestled in his lap - looked thoroughly pissed off. That was, until Correia caught his eyes and he offered a wink.
Chapter 8 – Shore leave
‘How’d ye feel, lad?’ The voice was rough, as was the face looking down on the young officer. Charl Spendley groaned. Hitchmogh grinned, spittle stringing between crooked teeth.
