by Whyte, Jack
"I had never met the King, but I had heard great things about him, and nothing I had heard prepared me for the man I actually saw. He looked to me, an outsider, to be on the very edge of death when we arrived, and in fact he was dead within two months of our return. It was as though he had kept himself alive only to see his son safely returned, and from the moment he saw Ban and assured himself that all was well with him, he simply lay back and allowed death to take him. So what had begun for Ban as a triumphal return home ended in a grief-filled vigil as he waited for his father's life to end.
"We buried the old man at the far end of summer, just as the first tinges of gold began to appear among the leaves of the forest that surrounded the castle, and we installed his son Ban as King of Benwick in his father's stead within a month of that. Then, for a period of months following his assumption of the kingship, throughout the entire winter of that year, Ban struggled mightily to re-establish the harmonious flow of government that had begun to break down during his father's long illness.
"Of course, he had also sent word of his father's condition back to King Garth in Ganis as soon as he had arrived home, so everyone in Ganis knew that the wedding feast would be postponed. In the beginning, spurred by false hopes, the talk was of a brief postponement until such time as King Ban was back in control of himself, but that changed swiftly as his condition worsened steadily, and it was soon known in Ganis that the old King would never return there. By the spring of the following year, however, the old King's death and the changes it entailed had all been absorbed and accommodated, and the marriage of Ban and Vivienne had been firmly arranged for the autumn of that year.
"Your father had much to do with that, encouraging Ban constantly, from the moment of his father's burial and his own accession to the throne of Benwick, to waste no time in returning to Ganis and claiming his bride. The marriage, and the presence of a Queen in Benwick, Childebertus maintained, would work greatly to the new King's advantage, giving his rule an appearance of permanence." Chulderic paused, appearing to consider what he had just said. "All of which was very true, and excellent counsel," he continued eventually, "but hardly unselfish, since Childebertus knew he could not see Elaine again until Ban returned to Ganis. As Ban's closest friend, he would be the King's witness at the ceremony, as Elaine would be her sister's, and so the two of them would meet again, legitimately, at the wedding of their friends. But his chances of spending time with her, even then, grew daily less as the time for the return of her betrothed, Gundevald, drew ever closer. That time was already long overdue, and your father was almost wild with impatience to return and see Elaine again before his rival could return to claim his bride. Childebertus would be content to settle for that, since he knew it was the very best he could expect.
"And so they met again, in due time, this pair of lovers not- to-be, and still Gundevald had not returned from his campaigning. By that time, however, mere concern over Gundevald's late return was being replaced by grave misgivings."
Chulderic's attention was caught now by something else, something low and dun colored and immobile, out of place on the edge of the stream ahead of us, and he was already spurring his horse towards it. I kicked my own horse forward, following him until he dismounted beside the body of a young buck, less than two years old. It lay half in and half out of the water, its head, complete with immature antlers, almost completely submerged.
"Throw me your rope."
I did as he ordered, scooping the tightly coiled circle of plaited leather from where it hung from a thong by my knee and lobbing it into his outstretched hand. As he worked to unravel it, shaking out the tight-wound coils with both hands, I watched his eyes move constantly, taking note of everything there was to see in the clearing on the bank, from the dead animal itself to the grass around the area where it lay, and the fringe of bushes that screened the clearing, concealing it from view from any distance greater than ten paces.
Finally, apparently satisfied with what he had seen, he stepped ankle-deep into the stream and looped one end of the rope around one of the deer's haunches, tying it securely before throwing the other end to me.
"Here," he growled. "Loop this around your saddle horn and pull this thing up onto the bank, clear of the water."
My horse made short work of the haul, and moments later I had dismounted and stood looking down at the deer with Chulderic.
"Might have been a natural death," he murmured, more to himself than to me.
I shook my head. "I don't know, Magister. It's an awfully young buck."
"Aye, it is. But youth is no great protection against death. There's no sign of any human cause that I can see—not even a wound. But whatever caused it, the beast is newly dead . . . within the day, anyway. I passed by here last night, just before dark, and there was no sign of it then. Look, you can see the marks my horse made, crossing the stream there." Sure enough, the marks were unmistakable, and they passed within half a score of paces of where we had found the carcass. Chulderic was still looking about him. "Well, at least it's clear of the water," he continued. "That's what's important. No point in leaving it to pollute the whole stream. I'll send someone to bury it later, or at least to drag it away from the water, to where it'll do no harm."
"I can do that, Magister," I said, waving the rope I had begun to coil again.
"No, that's no job for you—not today. You have more important matters to attend to today." He moved away, to where his horse had begun cropping contentedly at a drift of lush grass, and raised one foot to the stirrup, but before he remounted he twisted back to face me, speaking over his shoulder as he steadied himself on one leg with both hands braced against his saddle. "You didn't expect to see that today, did you?"
I blinked at him, not knowing what he meant. 'To see what, Magister?"
"Death, lad." He grasped and heaved, hauling himself back up into the saddle, where he looked at me again, one eyebrow raised high. "Death in the middle of a fine afternoon."
"Oh. No, I didn't."
"No, and you never will. . . Even in war, when there's danger all around you and the enemy is close and you know someone's going to die at any moment, it's always unexpected when it actually happens." He pulled on his reins, making his horse snort and snuffle as it stamped its feet and sidled around to face me. "What about the deer?"
He had lost me again. "What about it, Magister? It was just a dead deer, lying in a stream."
"Aye, that's right, that's what it was. But how did it die? When? Why?"
This distraction from his narrative was trying my patience. "Forgive me, Magister," I said, "but I cannot think those things are significant. The only thing that matters is that the animal is dead."
He nodded his head sagely, his lips turned sharply downwards in what looked like a pout. "Aye," he murmured, so quietly that I could barely hear him, "that's how it always is, lad. Bear that in mind. The fact of the death always outweighs the reasons for it. I have come to believe that more and more as I grow older . . ."
I was frowning at him, beginning to feel concern over the way his attention was drifting and changing, but almost as though he had noticed my misgivings, he blinked and shook his head slightly, then looked about him, easing himself around in the saddle as he considered where we were.
"Let's go now," he growled eventually. "We'll head over that way, to the north, and then circle back to the south until we hit the trail we came in on. We should be back at home in less than an hour. What was I talking about before we found this carcass?"
I kicked my horse forward and followed him through the screen of saplings and bushes we had penetrated earlier. Then, once we were back on the main pathway, broad enough to accommodate us side by side, I kicked gently until we were even with Chulderic's mount.
'The wedding."
"Aye, well, listen closely and learn. Garth of Ganis was no fool, and no one would ever accuse him of being indecisive. He saw the strong attraction between his daughter Elaine and the young warrior Childebertus�
��as did everyone else in Ganis—when Ban's party first arrived, and he watched it flower rapidly during the gaiety and excitement of the week preceding the nuptial ceremony. Fortunately, he had no awareness that the pair had met before, on Ban's first visit—that escapade had somehow managed to escape his attention—but he could see at a glance what was happening this time, and he was having none of it. He set some trusted men to watch the pair closely day and night, exhorting them to make sure that the two young people never had a moment alone together. But Garth, being a man, knew it was only a matter of time, as the young people's attraction to each other grew and fed upon itself. He did not distrust his daughter, but he was well aware that she was an impressionable young girl, barely more than a child, and that the buck prancing around her was a seasoned campaigner, a decade older than she, experienced in life and good to look upon. He decided to put an end to their liaison immediately after the wedding, before anything could come of their intensifying attraction.
"On the day of the wedding. Garth watched Elaine, barely paying attention to the bride and her new husband in his concern over his unmarried daughter. He had increasing difficulty in concealing his anger as he saw how eye contact between Elaine and her admirer had given way to touching, their hands constantly hovering close to each other so that their fingers were seldom untwined, even though the clasping was always brief and cautious and, they believed, hidden from the eyes of others.
"That night, the night of the wedding feast, the King made sure his daughter's nurse would have company in her chambers—a collection of visiting children of all ages to keep her awake and thereby ensure that Elaine remained safely where she ought to be, in her own quarters. At the same time, he invited Childebertus to sit among his personal guests at dinner, and took great satisfaction in watching the young man's discomfort as he sought vainly for some way of making his escape. Each time young Childebertus rose to his feet, the King would speak to him directly, drawing him back into the general conversation and making it impossible for him to leave without being ill mannered and obvious.
"The morning after the festivities, Garth rose up early and went straight to speak to Ban as soon as the new husband showed his face. He told his new son-in-law what he had seen going on between his daughter and Childebertus and what he intended to do about it. He then summoned Childebertus to him privately and confronted the unsuspecting warrior with the realities of his situation and the dire punishment he faced if he should bring disgrace, shame or embarrassment to Garth or any of his kinsfolk, and most particularly his daughter Elaine, who was betrothed to another.
"Childebertus listened, and then succumbed to a surge of nobility that he was to regret deeply. He admitted openly and freely that he had fallen deeply in love with the King's beautiful daughter, but swore he had done nothing and never would do anything that might cause Elaine to suffer pain, grief or shame in the eyes of her family or anyone else. He offered to leave Garth's lands at once, and swore by his honour and his love for Elaine never to return. Very noble, passionate and full of self-sacrifice, all of which add up to great foolishness. But the King had been listening closely and he believed every word of your father's protestations. He thanked Childebertus for his tact and understanding, then gratefully and graciously accepted his offer to leave Ganis immediately, granting him the remainder of that day to make his farewells to everyone except Elaine, and promising that he would personally send him on his way the next morning with no hint of shame or scandal attached to his honour. True to his word, as Childebertus was preparing to depart the following day, Garth gifted him with a magnificent horse and all the trapping to go with it, in token of his gratitude and his appreciation as the bride's father.
"Your father thanked the King for his generous gift, then rode away, straight backed and stiff shouldered, filled with rage at himself, he told me later, for his stupidity in offering to leave. He had not even had an opportunity to speak with Elaine, to tell her what had happened. She loved him, he knew, as he loved her, and her father had promised to tell her what he had done, but Childebertus would never forgive himself, he thought, for denying their love to both of them in what he now recognized as a moment of foolish enthusiasm."
"He rode away alone, then? Why didn't you go with him, for company on the road?"
"I would have, had I been there, but I was in Benwick at that time, acting as Ban's deputy during his absence."
"Well . . ." I was almost spluttering, outraged by the injustice of what had been done to my father. "Had he no friends to ride with him? Did King Ban not object to his being sent away alone?"
"Aye, he did. Ban was angry and upset when he first heard that your father would leave the next day. His anger sprang out of his loyalty to your father, for whom he felt responsible, as well as from his own awareness that he himself could not accompany his friend—not now that he had a wife to take back to his own home, with all her belongings and her personal attendants. None of those, he knew, would be ready to leave for another week, at least, and he himself could not leave without them. So he demanded that Childebertus select an escort from among Ban's own men, to ride with him—Ban had brought an unusually large force with him to Ganis, more for display than for real safety, and could easily afford to send a large number of them with his friend to protect him. But your father was still feeling noble then, determined to suffer and endure the agonies of his self-hatred and contempt in seclusion. So yes, he rode off alone."
"What happened then—Magister?" I almost addressed him as an equal, but I caught myself in time to add the respectful acknowledgment of his rank. He did not notice, however, and answered my question without hesitation.
"Ban sent an escort after him, regardless of your father's wishes, but Childebertus must have seen them coming behind him, because he vanished before they could make contact with him and they could find no trace of him from then on. They eventually returned to Ganis, to report their failure to Ban, and he was not happy with them. But there was nothing to be done."
"But that can't be all, Magister! There must be more. How could my father ever have wed my mother, having sworn by his honour never to see her again? Did he forswear himself?"
Chulderic smiled now, amused at my panic. "Easy, boy, calm down. Your father's honour was never in question. King Garth himself absolved him of his promise. I told you the old man was neither foolish nor indecisive. Exactly a month after the wedding, on the very day that Ban and his new wife left King Garth's lands to return to Benwick, Garth received word, in the form of a written report from an imperial legate, that Gundevald of Stone Vale was dead, killed in battle months earlier when his force was surrounded and wiped out by an overwhelming concentration of Ostrogoths whose existence in that part of the world had been unsuspected until that encounter."
I had been listening avidly, because I knew Gundevald must have died somehow—otherwise, how could my father and my mother have wed?—and this confirmation of my own judgment pleased me greatly.
"Well, those were the worst tidings King Garth could have received. He knew that Ban, his new son-in-law, was an able man and a valiant fighter and would have made a fine consort to Vivienne, had she ever become Queen of Ganis, but he had always known, too, that such a thing would never be, because it had never been intended. Vivienne would go with Ban to his home in Benwick, hundreds of miles to the south and east, where he already had a people of his own to rule.
"At the time of the pair's betrothal, you see, almost two decades earlier, Garth had been in the prime of his manhood, with a fertile and loving wife who, to that point, had given him three fine, healthy sons and twin daughters. Full of a young man's belief in his own invincibility and flushed with his pride of fatherhood. Garth had foreseen no need then to fret over his own future. The marriage of his daughter to the son of his old Mend Ban the Bald had been arranged purely to strengthen the ties between Ganis and his friend and ally, Ban the Bald of Benwick. Since that time, however, Garth had lost his beloved wife, who had died in child
birth along with her infant. He had never remarried, but had kept himself surrounded by women of all ages, using all of them shamelessly to help him look after and care for his children, and most particularly his three sons.
"And then, late in his life and within the space of two years, all three of his sons had been taken from him—one crushed in a fall from a horse, the youngest swept away and lost forever in a flooded river later in the same year, and the eldest and most promising, Dion, devoured by the Spotted Fever. Suddenly Garth was alone, with only one unwed daughter left to succeed him, and his enemies were as aware as he that Garth of Ganis was no longer as mighty as he once had been.
"That knowledge was the reason for Garth's promising his daughter to Gundevald of Stone Vale in the first place. He was very concerned about protecting his kingdom and his people, but he was equally concerned about protecting his unwed daughter. The Salian Franks have very strongly held ideas about women succeeding and taking possession of family holdings. They don't like that at all and they've been trying for years to put a stop to it. They want a dead man's holdings to pass to another male, if not a son, then the nearest male relative. Garth was long-headed when it came to things like that. He could not have foreseen what would happen to his sons, but he was clear thinking enough to ensure that even in the worst imaginable circumstances, his daughter would not end up penniless and disinherited as a helpless woman in a man's world. He saw it as his duty to protect her against the day when he could not be there to see to it himself. Gundevald, like Ban the Bald of Benwick, had been a valued Mend of Garth's for years. His lands of Stone Vale bordered Garth's own holding, and although they were neither as fertile nor as extensive as King Garth's Ganis, they were more rugged, easier to defend, and they abutted Ganis on two sides.
