Ardent

by Florian Armas

  The mold-eaten carpet under my feet had once been colored, though the colors were uncertain. What remained served to muffle our footfalls, so we could hear sounds within the walls: a faint scurrying and scrabbling.

  Rats... What a lovely place. “Quite a large room,” I said, fighting to keep my calm. Bran’s eyes were fixed on me, and his wry mouth let me guess that he was trying hard to keep his laughter inside.

  “Speak louder,” Bran said, then pointed to the back of his head. “A mace at the battle of Hollow Creek. It hit my head at the back. I still don’t know why my ears were affected; they were not touched by the mace. My brain seems to be fine.”

  I need to pamper Agatha’s ego for Saliné’s inheritance. Why should I care? It will go to Bucur along with Saliné. “Quite a large room,” I repeated, louder, and he nodded. The remnants of more than twenty beds were scattered across the floor. “I suppose that the barn is even ... larger.” I gestured toward the most decrepit wall of the room, which separated the house from the barn. “We thank you for your kind hospitality, but the room is too large for us. We don’t want to burden you and occupy so much space.”

  His eyes were still on me, but I didn’t know enough about him to say if he was bewildered by my reaction. Is Agatha eccentric or too poor to have a casern in reserve? He expected for sure a reaction, maybe some heavy curses, as juicy as the soldiers’ drawings on the room’s walls.

  “We have a smaller place outside the city.” The man recovered quickly, showing that he was not without qualities.

  If this looks bad, how would a casern outside the city be? “We shall see,” I said, evasively.

  He went out of the building, and we followed again, one by one. “The same way,” he pointed to the small street. It took us another ten minutes to arrive at the plaza again. Without speaking, he moved toward the city gate.

  “I apologize,” I said politely, “but we want to eat something at that inn before we go to our lodging,” I pointed toward the No Horse inn, “and who knows, maybe they have some free rooms for us.”

  “I doubt it,” Bran shrugged. “Follow me.”

  “We want to take our chance.”

  “Young man, we have our own rules here, and disobeying them would carry consequences.”

  “Hungry soldiers don’t care much about distant consequences,” I smiled thinly.

  “I need to inform Lady Agatha about your decision. Maxim, watch them.” He stepped back, and gestured toward one of his men, who almost needed a cart to move his large belly.

  “I am sure you will.” We parted without further discussion. Too much beer, I stared at Maxim fat belly.

  “I like to eat and drink well,” he shrugged. “A soldier has not many pleasures.”

  His eyes are not fat at all ... but soldier…

  The No Horse inn was built in the best position in the main plaza, facing Agatha’s castle, a good place to keep an eye open on comings and goings. The name had a droll history. In fact, the inn was named Queen Elze in the past, in memory of the last Queen who slept a night here in one of her travels, and apparently liked the food. While I suspected that Elze never slept here – the castle was more apt to host a queen – the food was still good, on a par with the Caravans’ Inn in Muniker and better than what Leyona, a much larger city, could offer. The royal name lasted until a drunken man entered the inn with his horse. The innkeeper complained, but with that spark that only some drunk men can have, the man replied that there was no sign to forbid people from bringing horses inside, and a ‘Horses are not allowed inside’ sign was nailed up at the entrance. From that day, everybody used the ‘No Horse’ name, and after a while, the wise innkeeper decided to make it official.

  We left our horses in the barn, and went to the inn with some expectations born from having just a frugal breakfast in a morning that was now far away. Before entering the main door, Vlaicu nodded at me.

  “Maxim, you are the host.” I ushered him inside, then let our men enter.

  “I saw two guards from Leyona,” Vlaicu whispered, when we remained alone outside. “They wore no colors, but I know them. I don’t think that they saw me.”

  “We need to watch them,” I said, before we entered too. And we need a room here.

  In a corner, Maxim was talking with the innkeeper. They stopped abruptly when we arrived.

  “Good afternoon,” I said. “We need rooms for eight people. We plan to stay one week in your inn.”

  “I apologize, but all the rooms are occupied.” There was slight dose of disappointment in the innkeeper’s voice for losing our money. He was polite, but did not leave much room for negotiation, and while his eyes were searching, there was no sign that he recognized the other me, Tudor, who visited the inn in the past.

  “Well, then we can take the Queen’s apartment,” I said. There were no horses of very good quality in the inn’s barn, and no luxurious carriage in the front, thus no one rich enough to rent an expensive apartment, which I knew was rarely occupied. It was there only to keep the old story alive.

  “Who told you that the apartment is free?” the innkeeper asked, a trace of nerves in his voice.

  “It will be in half a turn, Bart,” I said sternly, using his name for the first time. “I am sure you don’t want us to free it up for you.”

  Before answering, he moistened lips several times. “The guests will come in the evening.”

  There are no guests… “Then we will talk with them in the evening.”

  “You can’t...” he made a last effort.

  “The key, please,” I said abruptly, pointing to a large key, dressed like a doll with a blue ribbon. It was his pride, and any newcomer would be served the history of the key and Queen Elze. I had heard it twice from him.

  “You don’t behave like this in our city,” Maxim said only because he had to help the cornered innkeeper.

  “Oh, Maxim,” I said, leaning my hand on his shoulder, and pressing down hard. He was as short as he was round, barely up to my chin. He carried a sword, though I couldn’t guess what for. This man had not fought since before I was born. “My soldiers are tired from a long road. You are a soldier too. I am sure you understand their desire for a hot meal and a fine bed. Tired soldiers are a bit hard to manage.” My hand leaned even heavier on his shoulder.

  “Bart, we need a table for nine. Maxim,” I leaned further toward the guard, “we will be delighted if you would accept our invitation for dinner and a drink.”

  “Of course,” he said quickly, leaving me to guess if his haste was from the need to spy on us, or because a guard did not have enough money to eat here, or both.

  My hand stretched forward, and the famous key landed in my palm. “Bart, I knew that we could count on you. Twelve galbeni per day, food included,” I said, before he could ask a larger than usual price, and he nodded in silence, frowning, maybe trying to remember the last time when I was his guest. “I know the way. We will be back in a few minutes.”

  The apartment was large enough to host ten people easily, except that we needed some more mattresses; there were only three beds in the two rooms.

  “Vlaicu saw some guards from Leyona in the town, so we need to take turns, and watch the plaza and the castle,” I said, staring through the window toward the castle. “Here, before it gets dark; in the plaza afterward. The castle has only one gate. Vlaicu, you are exempted.” I turned toward him just in time to catch his intrigued glance. “Your task is to get Maxim drunk, to see if he knows about the Leyonan guards. He may know nothing, but… Now, let’s have lunch. I hope the inn has enough wine to fill the large barrel that is Maxim.” Should I warn Jara about the Leyonan guards? She may laugh at me again. What if there are more than two guards here? They will not try something in Valeni. It’s too risky…

  “I was tempted to make a hole in it,” Vlaicu laughed. “But he looks more like a capon than a guard, and did not know what would come out.”

  When darkness fell, I left the inn, alone. A foul-mouthed song f
ollowed me. Vlaicu and Maxim were entertaining the other drunkards trying hard not to slip under the table. I hope that Vlaicu will survive this battle. Amused, I glanced back at the inn for a last time. Two large windows made of stained glass were spreading a rainbow of colors. Under the full moon, the plaza was empty, and I walked at leisure, close to the walls. I turned right, until I arrived at the southern row of houses, then turned left until I reached the small wall surrounding the castle. On top of it, here and there, black silhouettes contrasted against the moonlight. Glistening from time to time, their spears looked like fireflies. I counted four sentries, guarding a five-hundred-foot long wall. Despite all our efforts, we were not able to learn from Maxim in what room Jara and Saliné were hosted. He either did not know, or he was not drunk enough for a tongue slip when I left him alone with Vlaicu. But at least we understood that all the important rooms were on the second floor, and had windows opening over the garden. Agatha’s included. It made sense. The sentries were patrolling in a pattern, each covering a given segment of the wall. They always met at two points roughly at one-quarter distance from the corners, or in the middle. When the first sentry was marching south the second was going north until they met. I counted eighty heartbeats while they walked. The same for the other two. Then they changed course until the ones walking on the inner side met in the middle while the other two reached the corners of the wall. I picked the southern corner to climb – it was at the end of the garden.

  I jumped, and my hands gripped on the wall’s edge when the sentry was halfway through his journey to meet the other one. A clinking sound, a scraping of steel over stone, went up with me. The sound was the faintest possible, but it sounded to me like thunder, and I stayed still, listening to the night. I had no armour or sword, only a dagger at my waist – enough to make that noise at the worst moment. When the two soldiers met, I climbed up, then, motionless as a gargoyle, I lay down on the wall, between two merlons. The stone was cold. It was an uncomfortable position, but I could see the castle’s windows. Faint words were reaching me from the two sentries talking at more than a hundred feet from me. After a minute, one of them walked back to the corner of the wall. I slid down, inside the perimeter, where the wall was a foot smaller, then waited for him to reach the corner and leave again. The wall was the best place to see deeper inside the rooms at the second floor. It took me three climbs back to figure out the location of Jara’s and Saliné’s chambers. One soldier laughed because of something I could not guess, and I jumped down, then made myself one with the wall, my back on the cold stones. The laughter continued, unabated. At a distance, it sounded muffled, but it was more than enough to cover me. After a while, silence returned.

  The sentry marched again toward the corner. Stuck to the cold wall, my ear caught his steps well. There was no way to see him without being exposed. Silent, the moon projected its light on the wall and on me. If a sentry looks down... If someone from the castle looks through the window... With a deep breath, I bit my lip, then closed my eyes, freeing my brain to listen. The sentry reached the corner and walked back – his steps sounded fainter and fainter until they stopped. I rolled down and crawled until I reached the edge of yew trees. The hedge was too dense to pass through, and from the afternoon, I knew that there was only one gap. I crawled around its base, while the soldier walked north again. I stopped when he stopped on the wall, just fifteen feet from me.

  “Now!” he shouted, and fast trotting reverberated from the wall. In a minute, all four soldiers arrived and gathered in front of me, their tense faces visible in the moonlight. I made myself small on the ground, and pushed as much I could under the yew bush. I had at least the luck of being in shadow; the moon was on the other side of the hedge and castle. Thin, hard branches pricked at my skin, and the smell of crushed leaves filled my nostrils. Peppermint... With my elbow, I covered my face, the only white thing on me, hoping for a miracle. My right hand went to my boot and grasped my throwing knife. Aligned on the wall, the soldiers were looking down. “There!” the same one spoke, his hand pointing at me. Tense, and waiting for the proper moment to jump, I gripped the knife stronger, ready to throw it. “They are undressing.”

  “What an eye you have for women. You can’t hit a cow with an arrow from ten paces,” another one said. “You are a pimp, not a soldier.”

  “I take the women; you take the cows,” the first one guffawed. “Now shut up. I don’t want to miss anything.”

  “I can see her tits.”

  “One-eye sees something.” Laughter burst out on the wall. “You see nothing, you idiot. She is wearing a night gown or something like that. They are rich bitches. Like that old tart Agatha. Mother and daughter they are. I heard that the mother is Agatha’s niece. If we are lucky, she will take the gown off. I wonder if it’s the mother or the young one. From here, they look the same.”

  “Who cares? Both would be good in bed. Bran told me once that Agatha was a handsome slut too.”

  “Agatha makes me vomit. I would like the young one. I bet that she is a maiden.”

  “One-eye wants a maiden.” A hard pat hit something with a muffled sound, then a helmet fell and rolled onto the stones of the wall. I prayed that it would not fall over the merlons.

  “No maiden will let you inside her. You are too ugly. Even the whores refuse you. I would like both on top of me.”

  “She is naked.”

  “Which of them?”

  “Agatha!” one said, to others’ laughter. “Don’t look, or she will turn you into a stone.”

  “It’s the mother, and I am like a stone already.”

  “Find a cow.”

  “The bitch! She moved away from the window,” one sentry complained.

  “Well, boys, the show is over.”

  “She went to sleep,” one sighed. “I would prefer to be in bed with my wife than here with you.”

  “That’s amazing!” One of them laughed. “For the first time, I agree with you. I would prefer the same.”

  “You can’t. You are not married.”

  “Of course not. That’s why I would also prefer to be in bed with your wife than here.”

  There was another answer, drowned in the burst of guffaws.

  “What are you doing there?” a voice asked at some distance, and I recognized it as Bran’s.

  “There were two people close to the wall,” someone from the wall shouted. “Two of those who came in the morning with the ladies. We just took precautions.”

  “I heard laughter.”

  “They went out from No Horse. Both drunk and laughing. No issue. The moonlight is strong this night.”

  “Go to your places,” Bran ordered and turned away.

  “Thank Fate that he is almost deaf,” one sentry chuckled. “He said it was from the Hollow Creek battle. My guess is that he fell on his head from too much wine.”

  “Shut up!” the soldier who seemed to be in charge growled. “Bran fought there, and me too. I can’t say the same about you.”

  Without more talk, they walked away fast, and restarting the patrolling. It took me three more periods of hard crawling to arrive at the gap and enter the garden, and from there, covered by the hedge, I could walk again.

  There was no light in the rooms on the first floor, and the wall of the residence had some decorative stone protuberances sticking out here and there, with no apparent pattern, but they were easy to climb on. I stopped under the lower right corner of the window I guessed belonged to Jara and Saliné, trying to stay away of the light coming from inside.

  I hope this is the right window. If it belongs to Agatha... With all that inner tension, I bit my lip to stop a burst of laughter. Staring at the soldiers walking only sixty feet away, their bodies lighted by the moon rising above the castle, I knocked on the window. Once, then two times, then three, and again once. The sign that Saliné knew well. I had used it so many times when I wanted to walk with her under another moonlight that shone so far in the past. For a minute, nothing happened. I
hope this is the right window.

  The light inside went off, and after a few moments, I climbed higher, ready to knock again. The window opened at the same time as my hand moved.

  “Who is there?” Jara asked in a low voice.

  “Codrin,” I whispered.

  “Saliné told me it was you,” she said, with faint amusement in her voice, then she opened the half-window fully on my side. Even in that almost darkness where the moon was hidden by the building, a dagger was just visible in her hand. “Come inside.”

  I glanced back: the soldiers’ silhouettes were moving slowly on the wall, back and forth. I climbed blindly over the sill to enter the room. A dress rustled in front; Jara had made space for me.

  “There was some noise outside,” Jara said, after closing the window.

  “The soldiers on the wall.”

  “What was so important you needed to take the risk and climb here like a ghost?”

  “There are some guards from Leyona in Valeni. They wear no colors. We will try to find where they are hiding. I don’t know what is happening, and we need to talk.”

  “I am sorry for what happened in the afternoon. Agatha seems a bit ... strange. From too much loneliness, I suppose. Move aside from the window. Saliné, make some light.”

  With the creaking sound of old iron, Saliné opened a large wooden box in a corner, and her face became strangely illuminated, half light and half dark. She looked more beautiful than a fairy, and I sighed involuntarily. Hearing me, Jara found my hand, and squeezed it gently. It took Saliné a few moments to bring out a large lit candela, then a second one. Jara’s hand covered her mouth and Saliné chuckled.

  “You look like a ghost.” Jara swallowed her laughter, pointing to my clothes whose black color was now mostly light grey.

  “Some crawling to enter the garden,” I shrugged. “There are soldiers on the wall.”