The Rope Dancer

by Roberta Gellis

  Telor sighed. “Whatever will happen is some days off, Carys. Let us not sour today with fears for the morrow. Where is Deri?”

  “Something is wrong with Deri too,” Carys said, her voice catching on a sob. “He is above in the chamber, mending his clothes.”

  “There is nothing wrong with mending clothes,” Telor protested, frowning. “What do you mean, there is something wrong with Deri? He was fine when I spoke to him this morning.”

  “I do not know what I mean.”

  Carys’s voice was low and not unsteady, but Telor looked at her anxiously. There was a kind of tight-drawn quality to her that threatened screams or hysterical laughter any moment, and he seemed to be making her worse with each assurance he offered. The previous night working with the horses had calmed her. Perhaps giving her something practical to do would help.

  “My heart, I must talk to Deri,” Telor said urgently. “I want him to ride to Creklade today, and it is getting late. Will you fetch me some ale? I am dry with singing.” He pressed a coin into her hand and kissed her cheek gently. “Can you do that, dearling?”

  Hopelessly Carys nodded and turned away, wondering, as she plodded toward the alehouse, what great evil she or her parents could have committed to deserve that each joy she ever found in her life be turned into a torment. She had at last come together with a man who could bring her joy instead of loathing, a kind and generous man, who did not act as if she were no more than a coarse jug to be used or broken on a whim. She had barely tasted that joy, only to have it withdrawn, leaving her in a state far worse than the doubt and ignorance she had known before.

  One night, one single night of perfect happiness, that was all she had been granted. Carys had known that from the moment she wakened and found Telor gone. While she and Deri sat at the cookshop’s counter so she could break her fast, she had tried to tell him that Telor’s eagerness to talk to Lord William boded no good, but the dwarf seemed unable to take in what she said.

  Deri kept replying that she must not be angry, and he would not listen when she explained that she did not expect to be first with Telor, that she knew fondness for a woman always followed second or even third to honor or pride or greed or other desires in men. Still, Deri kept assuring her that Telor cared for her, that his departure was a necessity, not a sign of contempt or lack of love for her. And all the time he talked, the dwarf’s eyes were blank and his smiles like the rictus that twists a dead man’s lips—until she screamed at him that Telor was planning something that would bring disaster on them all. Then Deri had blinked and nodded and frowned, and his face came alive as he said that perhaps she was right.

  “How can we stop him?” she had begged.

  Instead of answering, Deri had jumped down from the stool and run away with a look on his face that froze her in her seat. Later, when she had followed him up to the loft, he would not raise his head from his mending nor answer when she spoke to him. She was afraid to cry, knowing that if she let herself begin to weep she might not be able to stop. She thought of attacking Deri, pummeling him until he responded, but she did not—not because, as in the past, she feared a beating but because she feared the answer she might get. So she had run away to walk up and down the street watching for Telor.

  Carys shuddered and looked around. She had stopped automatically but for a moment could not remember what she was doing. Then a slight cramp in her hand made her lift it and open the tight-clenched fist. The coin reminded her of Telor’s request for ale, and she realized she had stopped at the alehouse. She ordered and paid, thinking only of that business because money was still new and very important to her, but when she took up the leather jack and started back to the cookshop, it suddenly occurred to her that it was strange indeed for her to fear words more than blows.

  Instantly, together with a renewed knowledge of how precious to her was her new life, came a flood of rage at the thought of losing it—and losing it without the smallest struggle to hold for herself what was precious to her. She was a fool to despair, she told herself, her fury rising higher yet. Despair was a greater danger than any that Telor was planning. Despair was what pushed her into Ulric’s company, into allowing herself to become a filthy, dull-minded drab. Despair had nearly caused her to kill herself in Marston without even trying to discover whether her friends were still alive—and that would have left Telor and Deri, who had saved her and cherished her, to die horribly in torment. Eyes blazing, Carys set out for the cookshop. She could do nothing to stop Telor, she knew that. But she also knew she saved him once and might save him again, and to do that she had to know every part of his plan.

  Moreover, she decided grimly, clutching the jack to her chest with one hand while she used the other to climb the ladder to the loft, she should have kicked Deri until he told her what was wrong with him. Coward that she was, so afraid for herself that she had let a dear friend suffer alone. But when she reached the loft, Deri was gone and Telor was seated on the double sleeping pallet on which they had made love, looking into nothing while he drew from his lute a somewhat uncertain but terribly haunting melody. Feeling fear creep up on her again, Carys slammed the jack down so hard that some of the ale splashed out over Telor’s tunic. He jumped up and brushed the drops away before they could soak into the cloth, crying, “What the devil ails you?”

  “You lunatic,” Carys screeched, “I should have emptied the whole over your head and used the jack to brain you. What evil have you sent Deri into?”

  Startled blue eyes met hers, burning gold. “None, I swear!” Telor exclaimed, and then laughed and put down his lute. “It is good to see you angry instead of afraid.” He reached out and pulled her against him. “There is nothing for you to fear, nothing. Come, let me love you and make you forget.”

  Carys gave him a shove that broke his grip and rocked him back on his heels. “Oh, no! That was how you cozened me last night. Not one hand or lip will you lay on me until I know to the last hair what mischief you are making.”

  “You need not take me so literally at my word,” Telor said, somewhat indignant, “or I will begin to prefer fear to anger. It is not polite to knock down your lover. And what do you mean, I cozened you last night? You said me yea almost before I asked.” Suddenly he began to laugh. “Oh, Carys, how dare you say I cozened you? I only just remembered how you laid these two pallets together all ready before I even came back with the clothes.”

  “Men!” Carys exclaimed in a disgusted voice. “Can you only think of one thing? I did not mean you cozened me into coupling with you. I meant you cozened me out of asking what noose you were braiding for us all to hang from. And I did not set the pallets together. I was far too worried and frightened to think of such a thing.”

  “Then it must have been Deri.” Telor frowned, then shrugged. “I suppose it was his way of saying he was sorry he had taken me to task for wanting you. I told him—”

  “Never mind what you told him about wanting me.” An uneasy qualm had passed over Carys when Telor said it was Deri who laid the pallets ready, but she tried to push away the lesser problem until she could solve the greater. “Why have you sent Deri to Creklade? And why in such haste? I was not gone a quarter of an hour, yet he was away before I could return. Could you not wait until I said him farewell? Did you even ask him what was troubling him?”

  Telor looked unhappy. “No, I did not ask because he would not have answered me, and to speak the truth, I do not know what can be done to help him. I fear that our loving has opened anew the wounds of losing his family, especially his wife.”

  Tears came to Carys’s eyes. “Oh, God, does he want me too?” she whispered. “I love Deri dearly, but I could not…I could not! Not because he is a dwarf, I swear it. But I could not. Not after you.”

  “No.” Telor took her in his arms and kissed her, but only to give comfort, warmed and comforted himself by this proof that Carys would give him no reason to be jealous in spite of her past life. “No,” he assured her, knowing it would make matters
a hundred times worse if Carys began to avoid Deri. “It is not that he desires your body, Carys, just that we have each other and he has no one. I asked him once if he desired you and he said that you were not to his taste—more boy than girl, he said. But in a different way you have become very important to him. Because he is the way he is, Deri needs someone to protect and care for. I did not know that myself until we found you. From the first he wanted to keep you with us. He thought you were a broken bird.”

  Carys remembered suddenly when Deri had discovered her knives and how disappointed he had sounded when he said she was as helpless as an adder. But he had been cheerful enough even after that. Why should he turn morose just because she and Telor had coupled? Then she realized it was because he felt only her lover could be her protector. But how foolish! She needed a friend more now that Telor was her lover. Surely she could explain that to Deri.

  “Very well, I understand Deri’s trouble,” she said, pushing Telor away once more, though less violently. “But you are trying to cozen me again. What trouble have you sent Deri into?”

  “You are the most exasperating girl.” Telor groaned. “For the tenth time. There is no danger in what I have asked him to do.”

  “No? Then why are you so unwilling to tell me?”

  “I am not unwilling,” Telor said, glancing at her sidelong. “I am unable.”

  “Unable!” Carys echoed, outraged. “Unable! Do you mean you do not trust me?”

  “I mean you will not shut your mouth long enough for me to explain anything.”

  Mild blue eyes, now twinkling with mischief, stared at her challengingly. Telor almost hoped her indignation, for Carys was not usually at all talkative, would outweigh her good sense, since in a way he did not trust her. He feared that she would find a way to take an active part in the assault on Marston. He could not think of any way she could involve herself, but he knew Carys’s mind was more agile than his when she wished to apply it, and it made him uneasy.

  The hope she would grow angrier and argue was not fulfilled. Carys’s mouth did open on a hot retort, but not a word did she speak. Instead, she closed her mouth and plopped herself down, cross-legged and arms akimbo—which effectively prevented him from any attempt at an embrace—and looked at him with a raised brow and a sardonically questioning expression. Telor sat down also, opposite her rather than alongside to show he did not plan to try to embrace her.

  “I asked Deri to ride to Creklade and repeat to the bailiff there what information we gleaned about Orin’s training the menservants in arms and his plans to gather in any mercenary troops freed by the end of the siege of Faringdon. His news may not be good, but in a way it will be welcome to Creklade as showing them where their enemy is and that he is still weak. I think they will believe Deri, but if he is not back here after dinner tomorrow, I will ride to Creklade and do what is necessary to free him. Now are you satisfied?”

  Carys shook her head vigorously and pointed to Telor.

  “You wish to hear what my business with Lord William was.” Carys’s nod brought a grimace, but Telor said, “My part is even simpler. I have told Lord William about Sir Richard’s murder and that it was done by a man bound—if he is bound to anything—to Lord William’s enemy, the king. I have also told him that this stupid, bloody cur Orin will probably destroy Sir Richard’s library. Do you know what a library is?”

  Carys shook her head, still without a word.

  “It is a collection of books and scrolls with all kinds of writings. Few men, noblemen and priests included, have even one book, and a large collection that is not devoted to saints’ lives and arguments about fine points of religion, such as those in the abbey libraries, is a rare thing indeed. Fortunately, Lord William is a man who cares for such writings, is even greedy for them. He has a double excuse to attack Marston—Sir Richard’s death and the fact that Marston is held by an enemy—thus, no one could blame him for acting foolishly, even though his real purpose is to gather to himself that library. Naturally, I have done whatever I could to make that attack easy and successful. Deri’s news will make Creklade eager to assist Lord William with men and supplies, and perhaps Sir Richard’s neighbors will also add to his force, either for the old man’s sake or because they hope to be granted some of Marston’s lands to oversee. You see, you have been worrying over nothing.”

  “Good,” Carys said, but the sardonic twist to her lips was more rather than less exaggerated. “Then we can leave here as soon as Deri returns, or I can go with you to fetch him, and we can leave from there.”

  “No, we cannot go—”

  “Why not?” Carys challenged.

  “The first reason is that I have not been given leave to go and have been asked to sing at dinner each day by Lord William. Carys, he is not a man one dares to offend. He is different from de Dunstanville too. De Dunstanville can be defied with subtlety and cleverness, and one can escape him by going well outside his territory. Lord William can reach anywhere in England and Wales and into France also, and there is something about him…All I can say is that I am fascinated by him and terrified by him too, although he has been very kind to me.”

  “You could ask for leave,” Carys insisted stubbornly.

  She did not have the slightest hope of convincing Telor, but she knew he was holding back something and hoped for a slip of the tongue that would reveal all. If Telor’s tongue did not wag, she expected to have to dig and pry at odd moments before she could winkle out the truth.

  Therefore, Carys was not in the least surprised when Telor shook his head in answer to her suggestion. “Even if I had a good reason that Lord William would accept, I would not ask for leave to go.” Telor paused and his hand went out to stroke the lute that lay beside him on the pallet, his fingers by habit touching the strings so that they sounded in harmony. “I must know if Lord William does attack, whether he is successful, and that Orin is dead. Then I can write a song—you heard me working on the melody—that tells of how my master died trying to save his lord and friend and how the wrath of God fell upon the murderer and brought him down.”

  There was no pert answer Carys could give to that. Tears rose in her eyes because Telor’s reply confirmed to her, although he had not yet admitted it, that her lover did not intend to leave Orin’s death to the accidents of war or Lord William’s justice. But the time for teasing argument had ended. She uncrossed her legs and moved to sit beside Telor. He put an arm around her shoulders and rested his cheek gently against her temple.

  “I want you for always, Carys,” he said. “You have become everything to me, and yet I cannot simply turn my back on the kindness and devotion of many years that I had from Eurion. And it hurts me too that we minstrels and players can be slain like vermin, that not one voice would be raised in protest. Lord William admired Eurion and honored him, but he would not move a finger or speak a word to avenge him. It was not the loss of Eurion but that of the library that moved him to action.”

  She made no answer to that either, except to put her arms around him and turn her face so that their lips met. After a little time, Telor put the lute away, off the pallet, and Carys’s hands slid down to feel for the buckle of his belt. They undressed each other slowly, caressing the flesh each bared with an intensity touched by sadness, for there were unspoken fears in each of their minds that precluded joy. That sadness brought a languor to their love that made each slow to respond and yet deepened the response when it came, so that Carys nearly fainted when the rolling waves of her pleasure burst over her at last. And she wept as if she had lost everything when the last thrill faded.

  There was a kind of healing in that love too. The explanation Telor had offered made perfect sense to Carys’s mind. There was no “madness” in his determination to bring Orin down; there was only loyalty, which she understood, and the kind of self-interest that had made her risk her life for his and Deri’s in Marston. However, understanding did not make the possibility she would lose him less fearful to her until, somewhere amon
g her culmination, her tears, and Telor’s patient and passionate comforting, Carys’s spirit also came to acceptance.

  I have it upside down, she suddenly realized, and smiled into Telor’s anxious eyes. Losing Morgan and sliding down into the muck with Ulric were not one punishment following another; they were blows that broke the chains enslaving me and taught me sharp lessons without which I could not have fit into Telor’s life. What a fool I am! Everything that has happened to me has had the purpose of weaving Telor’s life and mine together.

  She heard Telor ask her something, but she shook her head, unable to answer, for revelation had burst upon her: If I had not been threatened at Faux’s Hill, she thought, I would have stayed there and never met Telor; if Joris and his men had not tried to steal, I might have joined them; if we had not been attacked by outlaws, we might have come to Marston before Orin took it and been killed with all the others; and if Orin had not killed Eurion and imprisoned Telor, I do not know if Telor would ever have said he wanted me. The Lady has been very kind to me. I must not doubt her. Surely this trial that faces Telor is another part of the pattern She is weaving, and She will not desert me now.

  In the next moment it almost seemed as if she might not live to do the Lady’s will, for Carys became aware that she was being crushed and smothered by Telor, who was crying, “Carys! Carys! In God’s name, speak to me!”

  She managed to make some garbled and gasping sound, enough so that Telor released her to look into her face, and she laughed and asked, “How can I speak when my mouth is full of the hair on your chest?”

  He breathed a sigh of relief. “You frightened me out of my wits, girl. I know some women weep after coupling, but I have never seen a face like yours in that weeping. And when it passed and you smiled at me and I asked if all was well with you, the eyes rolled up in your head…I thought you were dying.”

  “The Lady spoke to me,” she said, her eyes huge and golden, then laughed again at Telor’s expression. “No, I am not mad. I heard no voice and saw no vision, but of a sudden, all the crazy things that have happened to me fell into place. I know you will go into great danger and possibly I will need to follow you there—”