by Derek Smith
She was crying now, taking a handkerchief from her sleeve to bathe her eyes. In sudden exasperation, she swept the papers off the bed onto the floor. Then lay back on the pillow, a forearm over her eyes. Might the drug be working? Her chest was heaving, she was still weeping. But in a little while the heaving and weeping stopped, her breathing became shallower. And the hand over her eyes dropped away.
Give it a little longer, thought Orly. She knew she must go for the jewel around the Queen’s neck. And for that she must be truly asleep before Orly could attempt to lift it off. Or be caught in the act.
There was scratching at the window. A bird, she thought. She hoped not a jackdaw, as that was the bird of bad luck. Her mother had said that such signs should not be dismissed. Gently she stepped behind the curtains, and at first she could see nothing out the window, but could still hear the scratching. She opened the curtains slightly so a little lamplight would assist her to see. And then could make out a figure. It was only in shadow; she could not see the face or clothing.
But she knew at once it was Toby.
And he couldn’t get in as the window was shut on him. Did she want to let him in? Proud, sneering Toby. If the Queen was now asleep, Orly thought, she could do this herself. Finish off the monster who had massacred her family. Gladly she would. Who had stolen her estates. Killed every servant and cowhand. She would walk over hot coals to do it.
Toby had deserted them. But she knew, too, he had been hurt. And had left them his food in spite of it, and had come here. For that she must forgive him. He too wanted what she wanted. And who was to say it would be so easy? The Queen might be asleep, but sleepers wake. And if Orly’s only help was locked outside…?
She was persuaded.
Orly pulled the bolt and pushed the window out. The casement hit Toby on the chest. He gasped his surprise. She stretched out her hand to touch his.
‘Toby,’ she hissed. ‘Come in quietly.’
The phantom nodded. And began climbing in through the window. Orly backed out of the curtains to get out of his way. Toby came into the room dripping wet, the lamplight glistening in his plastered hair.
Orly crept to his ear. She whispered, ‘Please, no noise. She has just fallen asleep.’
Toby nodded. He had already spotted the Queen and was watching her closely. Orly knew his thoughts. She was thinking much the same. How light was her sleep? Could it be done now?
And then Toby strode to the bed. The Queen was lying on her back, her arms splayed out over the bed covering. Toby grasped the yellow jewel. His knuckle was white. Let it cut her neck like a cheese wire for all he cared. And he tore at the chain.
It ripped away in his hand and he was propelled backwards.
At the same instant the imp was upon him.
Where it had been, neither could say. It was just there in a jump. A black creature with yellow eyes and a long tail like a whip. The imp’s teeth were small and triangular, sharp as a saw rip, and its claws like the talons of an eagle. It was upon Toby’s back, legs round his neck squeezing, its teeth biting at the back of his head.
Toby danced about with the creature, round and round the room. It was hissing and spitting as it clawed and bit at him. He pulled at one arm, then another, then a leg. When he was free from one limb, another came back, and the tail too lashed about him. He moaned as it constricted his neck. He was choking, his tongue splayed out, his face reddening, eyes popping. About he went, spinning at dizzying speed, tugging, pulling. Blood was pumping furiously in his head.
He did not have long.
And he concentrated on the body of the beast, ripping it away in his strong grip. Tearing at the sprung limbs and tail. He was blood-streaked, breathless, but the creature was weakening and was hissing wildly. Around Toby went, straining every sinew.
And Orly saw what she must do. Rapidly, she opened the curtains. There was the window wide open. Toby slammed the creature’s head on the sill. Its grip relaxed in limbs and tail. And Toby flung it out the window in a splay of legs. The creature bounced down the castle wall, and in another instant splashed into the moat.
Toby supported himself by the curtain; his legs were wobbly, blood coursing down his face and hands. His head ringing, he sank into a chair – and saw the Queen sitting up in bed shrieking.
‘Murderers! Robbers! Tobards!’
She frantically yanked at the bell pull.
The door burst open – two guards rushed in. And Councillor Higgs.
‘Seize him!’ shrieked the Queen, her hands at her throat. ‘Get me back my jewel!’
Toby had forgotten that he was still holding it. The yellow stone was blood-spattered in his hand. He had hung on to it during his battle with the imp, with no intention of giving it up while alive.
Two guards ran in at him and seized his arms.
Toby threw the jewel. The guards still held him by the elbows.
The Queen was shrieking, ‘My jewel! My jewel!’
But Orly had caught it. And she had dashed with it to the desk. The guards were bewildered. Should they let go of Toby and go for the jewel? Surely a jewel can be picked up later? Get the attacker first.
‘My jewel! Give me my jewel!’ she screamed. She threw back the bedclothes. She would get it herself. She utterly must.
Orly slammed a boot on to it, Zeke’s with its iron-clad toe. And again and again. The jewel cracked. And again. It split and shattered.
A terrible howl came from the Queen. She could move no further, stuck on the carpet, halfway between bed and desk, her hands clasping her face and neck. She was pain amidst panic, her eyes bulging, the sinews of her neck coming through the skin like rope strands. Her hair was greying as they watched, the colour washing away into whiteness, wispy and thin. Her face crawled with wrinkles as years etched her forehead, along the cheeks, deepening in the folds like the scoring of a prune. But then the underlay oozed away, her eye sockets hollowed and the skin on her face stretched like parchment. She was ageing rapidly before them, the skin tight as a drum over her face, her hands fleshless and bony. The decades were running through her in seconds, catching up with cheated time. And then the skin tore and curled like the hide on a spitted pig. It rolled up over itself, picking up the muscle. And the scream stopped but the mouth was wide as if hung in the scream. She had become white bone, her skull hairless, no eyes in the deep sockets, no tongue, no lips, her skeletal hand pointing at her desk and the smashed jewel.
The bone began to crack and fracture like a dropped pot. Until it was a mass of pieces, somehow holding together in a glue. And the pieces fractured and split, smaller and smaller, the lines running through them, until they were like grains of sand – but held together as if by spit. The silent howl still upon her, the hand pointing.
And then she fell.
In a sudden heap, like dry sand poured from a bucket.
No one moved. The room was crowded, the door wide open. Many had come running at the screaming. A circle had formed round where the Queen had been. Perhaps a dozen soldiers now, Councillor Higgs, two soldiers wanly holding Toby’s arms… All gazing at the pile of dust lying on the Queen’s nightgown.
No one dared speak.
Everything was held in that moment. A terror gone in a terrible way. It could not be believed. That heap of powder had been their ruler.
And was no longer.
They were free. They were frightened. Who was now in control?
Orly walked into the circle and curtseyed before Toby. Visible once more, she bowed her head.
‘I pledge my troth, King Toby.’
Toby placed a hand on her head, his face a mass of blood and scars. He was ripped and bleeding, but stood upright with Orly kneeling before him. The two soldiers stepped away; this was beyond them. Was there a new King here?
Those who knew looked to Councillor Higgs.
There was terror in the old man’s eyes. He was bewildered, afraid.
Toby pointed his bleeding hand at him. ‘I am your King.’
Higgs did not reply.
‘Consider if I am not,’ said Toby slowly. ‘There will be war. And who will be your protector, Councillor Higgs? You, who did the Queen’s bidding. Who will save you in the war?’
Higgs did not reply, cheeks palpitating, considering his choices. Which way should he go? Who was there to go with?
‘Be with me,’ continued Toby, ‘and you stay Councillor. For one year. Then you may go back to your estates. No man shall harm you, for I shall be your protector.’ Toby paused; he looked around the room, the blood like drips of paint on his face. ‘But if you are against me, Councillor Higgs – no one will defend you.’
Everyone looked to the Councillor. He was the Kingmaker. For or against this bloody man?
And he sank to his knees.
‘You are my liege,’ he said, head bowed. ‘God be with King Toby.’
And the room knelt to a new King.
Chapter 70
There was much to be done. The Kingdom must be told. And Toby had to take control quickly, before any forces of resistance could build up. And before any of that, he must wash, get out of his peasant garb and look like a king. Through dressing and washing, he gave orders all the while, keeping Councillor Higgs with him, for he did not yet trust the old man.
Though it was still the early hours of the morning, the whole castle was awake. Fires were being lit, early breakfast prepared. All the soldiery were ripped from their beds. Lords and ladies dared not sleep on with such momentous events on top of them. And their servants were sent rushing here and there, taking up the panic of their masters.
Far was brought up from the dungeon, and the few others awaiting death freed too. Far did what he could for Toby’s wounds, using the scrapings from the healer’s workshop. Difficult enough, considering the mess. And he apologised for not doing the best of jobs, but really a castle must have a proper healer. Toby agreed, and suggested that Far take it on. He said he would think about it. And Toby turned away, full of other matters. There were many dashing around him, finding clothes for him, sorting out the regalia. In an hour, he was due to address the court. He must think what to say. What had to be done.
These were important hours. His kingship was fragile.
Orly hugged Far but did not stay long with them. She had herself to get ready. After all, she must be a lady for the court. With her mother and father dead, she now had the title Countess Gomm. And had her estates to claim and her part to play in this new world. She must wash and find suitable clothes and powder and paint. Toby ordered the ladies-in-waiting to cater for her needs. And they took her away, already curtseying to this young woman in peasant garb who had the favour of the King.
In the court, Toby took the throne while those assembled sank to their knees. He was dressed in green leggings with a red and gold ribbed jacket. He wore the chain of state around his neck and his father’s crown upon his head. Much more kingly than the bloody spectre who had first been addressed as King.
He called for Countess Gomm to come forward.
Orly made her way through the courtiers to a mumble of approval. The ladies-in-waiting had done well. She wore a full-length gown of blue and yellow with lace at the wrists and collar. To this was attached a red cloak, fully open at the front. She had amethyst earrings and a necklace of silver and diamonds. Her face was painted white in the manner of court, and her lips full red. On her head she wore a brocade of silk that covered the top of her forehead, half her face, and ran down to her collar at the back. It was held in place by a gold band at the hairline.
Orly knelt by the throne. And swore her allegiance to her King.
Toby said, so all could hear, ‘Your family estates are returned to you, Countess Gomm.’
‘Thank you, Your Majesty,’ she said still on her knees.
To her alone, he said, ‘Bring Far. I have a promise to fulfil.’
Orly nodded and backed away, between those filling the court. And went off to find Far.
The King proclaimed, ‘All who lost their estates during the Queen’s rule shall have them restored. I shall set up a Commission of restoration to right the wrongs of those evil days.’
The officers from the garrison were here. In groups of six, he had them swear allegiance. He must win over the soldiers. There were also a few lords present, those that happened to be around the castle or nearby. Each came forward individually and swore that he was their true King.
Bells could be heard through the windows, ringing here and there from the surrounding villages. Messengers were riding out, although it was still dark outside. A puzzled populace must now accept a Tobard as King. About and about face. The Queen was now the traitor; it was she who had murdered her husband. And the traitor was King.
Truths were lies. Lies were truths.
Toby knew he must take command. There was no obvious successor but him. The Queen had damned him, but then in her own murderous excesses she had damned herself. He must bring in all the Lords and get their allegiance. A real problem would be the marauding soldiers, who had become too used to murder and plunder.
But he was feeling like a king, and that, he knew, was well on the way to being one.
When the business of court was done, he went to the king’s office with Councillor Higgs. Before he began any business he had the Queen’s picture removed. It was full-length, with her in a green gown, in all her beauty that had so bewitched his father, and the yellow jewel at her neck.
‘Burn it,’ commanded Toby.
When it was taken away, he went through further business with Higgs. They began the list of Lords to be brought in for the coronation. He would declare an amnesty for the soldiers whom the Queen had encouraged to terrorise the countryside. Those who accepted his rule would join his army, and learn to behave in a more acceptable way. Those who did not would become outlaws and be hunted down.
Orly entered.
She said, ‘Far has gone, Your Majesty.’
‘Gone where?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’ Her powder was streaked. She had been crying. ‘I only know he left with a group of soldiers, Your Majesty.’
Toby sighed and shook his head. So much to do, so much that could go wrong.
‘I would have made him Lord,’ he said.
‘He did not even say farewell.’ There was sadness in her voice, but an edge of anger too.
Toby rose from his desk, already piled with papers.
‘You may stay here at the castle, Orly,’ he said. ‘As long as you wish.’
She shook her head. ‘No, Toby.’
Councillor Higgs gasped at the familiarity.
‘I must go back,’ she went on, ‘and take over my estate. My family deserves that. Whoever has it now shall have it no longer.’
‘I understand,’ said Toby. ‘I shall send fifty soldiers to escort you.’
‘Thank you, Your Majesty.’ She gave a curtsy, rose and went to the door. There she turned as she opened it, and said between pressed teeth, ‘Be assured, Your Majesty, I shall have no more to do with peasant boys.’
Once in the corridor, she was weeping.
Toby was not able to resume work, though Higgs was standing by, eager with suggestions. He waved him away. And Toby thought of the three of them, going their different ways. He could, of course, make Orly and Far stay. He was the King after all. But that would be, he knew, at the loss of friendship. They would hate him. He must not play people like pawns, even if his heart told him to.
He wished to escape a tyranny, not create another.
Chapter 71
Far flicked the reins, and the two draught horses picked up their pace. He was driver on a food wagon with sacks of flour and pots and pans tumbling in the back. When they stopped, he must pack them better. But for now, he was glad to be travelling. And he breathed more easily. The castle was already out of sight, hidden in the trees. He had had fears that Toby would have sent men after him, to bring him back. This wagon was easy enough to catch on a fast horse. But n
o-one had come yet. And if they did he could explain himself. He had nothing to fear from Toby.
He feared worse from Orly.
The two large cart-horses ambled along, side by side, following the cart in front as they munched from their foodbags. The blanket over his knees had slipped, so he adjusted it and rolled down his sleeves. The reins were loose in his hands; the animals hardly needed him. The sun was just rising in a clear sky, it was chilly but would warm up in a few hours. He’d been hungry when he left, but within a few miles a soldier on horseback was going down the line with a sack of bread. The detachment was in a hurry, and must eat on the move. First halt at noon.
It was a sudden decision of his to leave. He had caught a glimpse of Orly being dressed by the ladies-in-waiting. She was already in her blue and yellow gown, wearing earrings, her hair being tied back. She was laughing and joking with them. And it hit him, like a kick; all their voices sounded the same. They were her sort, these high-born young women. One of them shut the door on him. Telling him, without a word, he was in the wrong place.
He’d run out into the courtyard and found the detachment hurriedly setting up. Toby’s orders were taking shape. They were going north to sort out some of the wilder bands of soldiers. Did they need a healer? ‘Yes,’ said the sergeant, slapping him on the back. ‘Our last was beheaded. Can you drive a wagon?’
He did not wish to go all the way with them. And that might have been a difficulty, but the Captain had seen him with the King. And, after some discussion, there was mutual agreement.
In less than half an hour they were away. About fifty soldiers on horseback and three wagons; Far could not travel on his own. There might be a new king, but old soldiery stalked the highways. It would take some time to change their killing ways.
How quickly she had joined her class! He’d always joked with her that it would happen. But didn’t really believe it. Or did he? Were his jokes a real fear?
In that gown, with her jewellery and the young women – she’d become Countess Gomm before his eyes. A countess with a large estate with a grand house, villages, forests, farms and hundreds of people whose lives she controlled. Orly had gone. The instant they were separated, he to the dungeon, while she made her escape – that was the last time they were on the same level.