by Robin Hobb
‘Oh, get up and stop being ridiculous,’ she exclaimed at seeing me crouch. ‘Going down on one knee is idiocy. Or did you think it would make me forget how rude you’ve been in not coming to see me right away. What’s that you’ve brought me? Oh, how thoughtful! How did you know I’d been studying them? You know, I’ve searched all the castle’s libraries and not found much on the predicting sticks at all!’
She took the tablet from my hand and smiled up at me at the supposed gift. Over her shoulder, Lacey winked at me. I gave a minuscule shrug in return. I glanced back at Lady Patience, who set the tablet upon a teetering stack of tablets. She turned back to me. For a moment she regarded me warmly, then she called up a frown to her face. Her brows gathered over her hazel eyes, while her small straight mouth held a firm line. The effect of her reproving look was rather spoiled by the fact that she came just to my shoulder now, and that she had two ivy leaves stuck in her hair. ‘Excuse me,’ I said, and boldly plucked them from the unruly dark curls. She took them from my hand seriously, as if they were important and set them on top of the tablet.
‘Where have you been, all these months, when you were needed here?’ she demanded. ‘Your uncle’s bride arrived months ago. You’ve missed the formal wedding, you’ve missed the feasting and the dancing and the gathering of the nobles. Here I am, expending all my energies to see that you are treated as the son of a prince, and there you are, avoiding all your social obligations. And when you do get home, you don’t come to see me, but go all about the keep where anyone else might talk to you, dressed like a ragged tinker. Whatever possessed you to cut your hair like that?’ My father’s wife, once horrified to discover that he had sired a bastard before they were wed, had gone from abhorring me to aggressively bettering me. Sometimes that was more difficult to deal with than if she had ostracized me. Now she demanded, ‘Had you no thought that you might have social duties here that were more important than gallivanting about with Burrich looking at horses?’
‘I am sorry, my lady.’ Experience had taught me never to argue with Patience. Her eccentricity had delighted Prince Chivalry. It drove me to distraction on a good day. Tonight I felt overwhelmed by it. ‘For a time, I was ill. I did not feel well enough to travel. By the time I recovered, the weather delayed us. I am sorry to have missed the wedding.’
‘And that was all? That was the sole reason for your delay?’ She spoke sharply, as if suspecting some heinous deception.
‘It was.’ I answered gravely. ‘But I did think of you. I have something for you, out in my packs. I haven’t brought them up from the stable yet, but I will tomorrow.’
‘What is it?’ she demanded, curious as a child.
I took a deep breath. I desperately wished for my bed. ‘It’s a sort of a herbal. A simple one, for they are delicate, and the more ornate ones would not have stood up to the trip. The Chyurda don’t use tablets or scrolls for teaching herbs as we do. Instead, this is a wooden case. When you open it, you will discover tiny wax models of the herbs, tinted to the correct colours and scented with each herb to make it easier to learn them. The lettering is in Chyurda, of course, but I still thought you would enjoy it.’
‘It sounds quite interesting,’ she said, and her eyes shone. ‘I look forward to seeing it.’
‘Shall I bring him a chair, my lady? He does look as if he has been ill,’ Lacey interjected.
‘Oh, of course, Lacey. Sit down, boy. Tell me, what was your illness?’
‘I ate something, one of the foreign herbs, and had a strong reaction to it.’ There. That was truthful. Lacey brought me a small stool and I sat gratefully. A wave of weariness passed through me.
‘Oh. I see.’ She dismissed my illness. She took a breath, glanced about, then suddenly demanded, ‘Tell me. Have you ever considered marriage?’
The abrupt change in subject was so like Patience that I had to smile. I tried to put my mind to the question. For a moment I saw Molly, her cheeks reddened with the wind that teased her dark hair loose. Molly. Tomorrow, I promised myself. Siltbay.
‘Fitz! Stop that! I won’t have you staring through me as if I were not here. Do you hear me? Are you well?’
With an effort I called myself back. ‘Not really,’ I answered honestly. ‘It’s been a tiring day for me …’
‘Lacey, fetch the boy a cup of elderberry wine. He does look worn. Maybe this isn’t the best time for talk,’ Lady Patience decided falteringly. For the first time, she really looked at me. Genuine concern grew in her eyes. ‘Perhaps,’ she suggested softly, after a moment, ‘I do not know the full tale of your adventures.’
I looked down at my padded mountain buskins. The truth hovered inside me, then fell and was drowned in the danger of her knowing all that truth. ‘A long journey. Bad food. Dirty inns with sour beds and sticky tables. That sums it up. I don’t think you really want to hear all the details.’
An odd thing happened. Our eyes met, and I knew she saw my lie. She nodded slowly, accepting the lie as necessary, and looked aside. I wondered how many times my father had told her similar lies. What did it cost her to nod?
Lacey put the cup of wine into my hand firmly. I lifted it, and the sweet sting of the first sip revived me. I held it in both hands and managed to smile at Patience over it. ‘Tell me,’ I began, and despite myself, my voice quavered like an old man’s. I cleared my throat to steady it. ‘How have you been? I imagine that having a queen here at Buckkeep has made your life much busier. Tell me of all I have missed.’
‘Oh,’ she said, as if pricked with a pin. Now it was Patience’s turn to look aside. ‘You know what a solitary creature I am. My health is not always strong. To stay up late, dancing and talking leaves me abed for two days afterward. No. I have presented myself to the Queen and sat at table with her a time or two. But she is young and busy and caught up in her new life. And I am old and odd, and my life is full of my own interests …’
‘Kettricken shares your love of growing things,’ I ventured. ‘She would probably be most interested …’ A sudden tremor rattled my bones and my teeth chattered to stillness. ‘I am just … a bit cold,’ I excused myself and lifted my wine cup again. I took a gulp instead of a sip I had intended. My hands shook and wine sloshed over my chin and down my shirt front. I jumped up in dismay and my traitorous hands let go the cup. It struck the carpet and rolled away leaving a trail of dark wine like blood. I sat down again abruptly and clasped my arms around myself to try to still my shaking. ‘I am very tired,’ I attempted.
Lacey came at me with a cloth and dabbed at me until I took it from her. I wiped my chin and blotted most of the wine from my shirt. But when I crouched down to mop up what had spilled, I almost pitched forward onto my face.
‘No, Fitz, forget the wine. We can tidy up. You are tired, and half sick. Just take yourself up to bed. Come and see me when you’ve rested. I’ve something serious to discuss with you, but it will keep another night. Now off you go, boy. Off to bed.’
I stood, grateful for the reprieve, and made my cautious courtesies. Lacey saw me as far as the door, and then stood watching after me anxiously as far as the landing. I tried to walk as if the walls and floors weren’t wavering. I paused at the stairs to give her a small wave, and then started up them. Three steps up and out of her sight, I stopped to lean on the wall and catch my breath. I lifted my hands to shield my eyes from the brilliant candlelight. Dizziness was washing over me in waves. When I opened my eyes, my vision was wreathed in rainbow fogs. I closed them tight and pressed my hands to them.
I heard a light step coming down the stairs towards me. It paused two steps above me. ‘Are you all right, sir?’ someone asked uncertainly.
‘A bit too much to drink,’ I lied. Certainly the wine I had dumped over myself made me smell like a drunk. ‘I’ll be fine in a moment.’
‘Let me help you up the stairs. A stumble here might be dangerous.’ There was starched disapproval in the voice now. I opened my eyes and peered through my fingers. Blue skirts. Of the sensi
ble fabric that all the servants wore. No doubt she’d had to deal with drunks before.
I shook my head, but she ignored that, just as I would have in her position. I felt a strong hand grip my upper arm firmly, while her other arm encircled my waist. ‘Let’s just get you up the stairs,’ she encouraged me. I leaned on her, not wanting to, and stumbled up to the next landing.
‘Thank you,’ I muttered, thinking she would leave me now, but she kept her grip.
‘Are you sure you belong on this level? The servants’ quarters are the next flight up, you know.’
I managed a nod. ‘Third door. If you don’t mind.’
She was silent for longer than a moment. ‘That’s the Bastard’s room.’ The words were flung like a cold challenge.
I did not flinch to the words as I would have once. I did not even lift my head. ‘Yes. You may go now.’ I dismissed her as coldly.
Instead she stepped closer. She seized my hair, jerked my head up to face her. ‘Newboy!’ she hissed in fury. ‘I should drop you right here.’
I jerked my head up. I could not make my eyes focus on her eyes, but all the same, I knew her, knew the shape of her face and how her hair fell forward on her shoulders, and her scent, like a summer afternoon. Relief crashed over me like a wave. It was Molly, my Molly the candle-maker. ‘You’re alive!’ I cried out. My heart leaped in me like a hooked fish. I took her in my arms and kissed her.
At least, I attempted to. She stiff-armed me away, saying gruffly, ‘I shall never kiss a drunk. That’s one promise I’ve made to myself and shall always keep. Nor be kissed by one.’ Her voice was tight.
‘I’m not drunk, I’m … sick,’ I protested. The surge of excitement had made my head spin more than ever. I swayed on my feet. ‘It doesn’t matter anyway. You’re here and safe.’
She steadied me. A reflex she had learned taking care of her father. ‘Oh. I see. You’re not drunk.’ Disgust and disbelief mingled in her voice. ‘You’re not the scriber’s boy, either. Nor a stable-hand. Is lying how you always begin with people? It seems to be how you always end.’
‘I didn’t lie,’ I said querulously, confused by the anger in her voice. I wished I could make my eyes meet hers. ‘I just didn’t tell you quite … it’s too complicated. Molly, I’m just so glad you’re all right. And here in Buckkeep! I thought I was going to have to search …’ She still gripped me, holding me on my feet. ‘I’m not drunk. Really. I did lie just now, because it was embarrassing to admit how weak I am.’
‘And so you lie.’ Her voice cut like a whip. ‘You should be more embarrassed to lie, Newboy. Or is lying permitted to a prince’s son?’
She let go of me and I sagged against a wall. I tried to get a grip on my whirling thoughts while keeping my body vertical. ‘I’m not a prince’s son,’ I said at last. ‘I’m a bastard. That’s different. And yes, that was too embarrassing to admit, too. But I never told you I wasn’t the Bastard. I just always felt, when I was with you, I was Newboy. It was nice, having a few friends who looked at me and thought, “Newboy” instead of “the Bastard”.’
Molly didn’t reply. Instead she grabbed me, much more roughly than before, by my shirtfront and hauled me down the hall to my room. I was amazed at how strong women were when they were angry. She shouldered the door open as if it were a personal enemy and propelled me toward my bed. As soon as I was close, she let go and I fell against it. I righted myself and managed to sit down. By clutching my hands tightly together and gripping them between my knees, I could control my trembling. Molly stood glaring at me. I couldn’t precisely see her. Her outline was blurred, her features a smear, but I could tell by the way she stood that she was furious.
After a moment, I ventured, ‘I dreamed of you. While I was gone.’
She still didn’t speak. I felt a bit braver. ‘I dreamed you were at Siltbay. When it was raided.’ My words came out tight with my effort to keep my voice from shaking. ‘I dreamed of fires, and Raiders attacking. In my dream, there were two children you had to protect. It seemed as if they were yours.’ Her silence held like a wall against my words. She probably thought I was ten kinds of an idiot, babbling about dreams. And why, oh why, of all the people in the world who could have seen me so unmanned, why did it have to be Molly? The silence had grown long. ‘But you were here, at Buckkeep and safe.’ I tried to steady my quavering voice. ‘I’m glad you’re safe. But what are you doing at Buckkeep?’
‘What am I doing here?’ Her voice was as tight as mine. Anger made it cold, but I thought it was hedged with fear, too. ‘I came looking for a friend.’ She paused and seemed to struggle for a bit. When she spoke again, her voice was artificially calm, almost kind. ‘You see, my father died and left me a debtor. So my creditors took my shop from me. I went to stay with relatives, to help with the harvest, to earn money to start again. In Siltbay. Though how you came to know of it, I cannot even guess. I earned a bit and my cousin was willing to loan me the rest. The harvest had been good. I was to come back to Buckkeep the next day. But Siltbay was raided. I was there, with my nieces …’ Briefly, her voice trailed away. I remembered with her. The ships, the fire, the laughing woman with the sword. I looked up at her and could almost focus on her. I could not speak. But she was looking off, over my head. She spoke on calmly.
‘My cousins lost everything they owned. They counted themselves lucky, for their children survived. I couldn’t ask them to loan me money still. Truth was, they couldn’t even have paid me for the work I had done, if I had thought to ask. So I came back to Buckkeep, with winter closing in, and no place to stay. And I thought, I’ve always been friends with Newboy. If there’s anyone I could ask to loan me money to tide me over, it would be him. So I came up to the keep, and asked for the Scriber’s boy. But everyone shrugged and sent me to Fedwren. And Fedwren listened as I described you, and frowned, and sent me to Patience.’ Molly paused significantly. I tried to imagine that meeting, but shuddered away from it. ‘She took me on as a lady’s maid,’ Molly said softly. ‘She said it was the least she could do, after you had shamed me.’
‘Shamed you?’ I jerked upright. The world rocked around me and my blurry vision dissolved into sparks. ‘How? How shamed you?’
Molly’s voice was quiet. ‘She said you had obviously won my affections, and then left me. Under my false assumption that you would someday be able to marry me, I’d let you court me.’
‘I didn’t …’ I faltered, and then: ‘We were friends. I didn’t know you felt any more than that …’
‘You didn’t?’ She lifted her chin; I knew that gesture. Six years ago, she would have followed it with a punch to my stomach. I still flinched. But she just spoke more quietly when she said, ‘I suppose I should have expected you to say that. It’s an easy thing to say.’
It was my turn to be nettled. ‘You’re the one who left me, with not even a word of farewell. And with that sailor, Jade. Do you think I don’t know about him? I was there, Molly. I saw you take his arm and walk away with him. Why didn’t you come to me, then, before leaving with him?’
She drew herself up. ‘I had been a woman with prospects. Then I became, all unwittingly, a debtor. Do you imagine that I knew of the debts my father had incurred, and then ignored? Not till after he was buried did the creditors come knocking. I lost everything. Should I have come to you as a beggar, hoping you’d take me in? I’d thought that you’d cared about me. I believed that you wanted … El damn you, why do I have to admit this to you!’ Her words rattled against me like flung stones. I knew her eyes were blazing, her cheeks flushed. ‘I thought you did want to marry me, that you did want a future with me. I wanted to bring something to it, not come to you penniless and prospectless. I’d imagined us with a little shop, me with my candles and herbs and honey, and you with your scriber’s skills … And so I went to my cousin, to ask to borrow money. He had none to spare, but arranged for my passage to Siltbay, to talk to his elder brother Flint. I’ve told you how that ended. I worked my way back here on a fishing
boat, Newboy, gutting fish and putting them down in salt. I came back to Buckkeep like a beaten dog. And I swallowed my pride and came up here that day, and found out how stupid I was, how you’d pretended and lied to me. You are a bastard, Newboy. You are.’
For a moment, I listened to an odd sound, trying to comprehend what it was. Then I knew. She was crying, in little catches of her breath. I knew if I tried to stand and go to her, I’d fall on my face. Or I’d reach her, and she’d knock me flat. So stupidly as any drunk, I repeated, ‘Well, what about Jade then? Why did you find it so easy to go to him? Why didn’t you come to me first?’
‘I told you! He’s my cousin, you moron!’ Her anger flared past her tears. ‘When you’re in trouble, you turn to your family. I asked him for help, and he took me to his family’s farm, to help out with the harvest.’ A moment of silence. Then, incredulously, ‘What did you think? That I was the type of woman who could have another man on the side?’ Icily. ‘That I would let you court me, and be seeing someone else?’
‘No. I didn’t say that.’
‘Of course you would.’ She said it as if it suddenly all made sense. ‘You’re like my father. He always believed I lied, because he told so many lies himself. Just like you. “Oh, I’m not drunk,” when you stink of it and you can barely stand. And your stupid story: “I dreamed of you at Siltbay.” Everyone in town knew I went to Siltbay. You probably heard the whole story tonight, while you were sitting in some tavern.’
‘No, I didn’t, Molly. You have to believe me.’ I clutched at the blankets on the bed to keep myself upright. She had turned her back on me.