“Do you know their business?”
“No. But I hardly think it was friendly, for Edelmir did not seem pleased.”
I considered this news for a while in silence. Lady Westley had not ceased to clasp my hand with both hers, and now I folded my second hand atop the others, in what I hoped was a comfort. “Girasol,” I said, “I think for your own safety you must divorce.”
She looked up at me sharply. “Divorce?” said she. “That would not reflect well on me, with Edelmir going to war!” She shook her head. “Do you understand what scandal will result? The whole court will look for a reason behind the divorce, and they will find one—they will find you. Especially if you and Edelmir fight, for no matter what reason lies behind the encounter, people will assume you fight over me.”
“Scandals are brief,” said I, “but bankruptcy is long. Listen to my reasons, and remember that I studied law.”
She seemed puzzled. “Did you? I thought you were a sea-captain.”
I refused to allow myself to be distracted. “You must separate your money from your husband’s. If you are divorced, your husband’s creditors cannot pursue your inheritance. Not unless you have also signed for the loans.”
“I haven’t.” But she was impatient. “I won’t have an inheritance!” she cried. “Not once my guardian fathers a child!”
“You don’t know that he will, even if he marries.”
With some effort, she pulled her hands from mine. “None of that matters now!” she said. “Not with you and Edelmir about to kill each other!”
“I have said I will try to spare him,” I said. “If you can convince him to return the favor, I would be greatly obliged.”
She jumped to her feet and began to pace the room. I rose and watched as she stormed back and forth, the dark gabardine cloak rustling.
“You must see a lawyer,” I said. “You may not wish to take my word, for I am hardly impartial, but you should see a lawyer and lay out the whole matter before him.”
She stood still and glared at me. “Divorce requires a vote in the House of Burgesses!” she said.
“Dozens of divorces are passed at every sitting. You know everyone in Howel, you must know some member who would introduce a bill of divorcement for you—ay, and he should be a lawyer, too. You can explain it’s to keep your fortune safe; he will understand that.”
Her fists doubled, and her lips pressed to a thin line. “You know what they will say about me. That I am a stewed harlot, that I spread my legs for diamonds.”
“The best way to outface slander is to be armored in gold,” said I. “Look to yourself and to your fortune.”
“No respectable woman will speak to me!” she said. “No man will want me but a rake or a punkateero!” She came up to me, her eyes blazing. “Once scandal attaches to me, will even you want me? Not just in your bed, I mean, but in wedlock?”
“That scandal would attach to us both, and to our bed as well,” said I. “But I may be dead tomorrow, if your husband has his way, and I would see you safe from ruin before that. For once blades are out, the matter becomes simple: Who shall survive, and who shall not.” I made an effort to soften my voice, and to put on my earnest-lover face. “I desire your survival, Girasol. You once said that you hoped that Heliodor the beryl knight would save you, and I want to save you.” And seeing this made no impression, I gave her a hard look. “Poverty will not become you, madam. To avoid hanging, your husband will have to go abroad as a soldier, and you will have to follow him. I have seen the women who follow their men to battlefields, and though they are not all wicked, in my view it is far better to be a scandalous lady of the court than the most virtuous of camp followers.”
“You think everything is about money!” she cried. “Money and diamonds!”
“I can assume a measure of control over money,” I said. “Over your husband’s sword, I can do nothing. Perhaps you may have some influence there.”
She stormed a while longer and wept. I did my best to offer comfort, but she accepted little of it, and eventually said she had to go. I had not told her what I suspected had caused Sir Edelmir to issue the challenge, for I did not wish her to have to view her husband in that way, but perhaps I should have urged a clearer sight upon her.
I walked with her to the door and saw her into her hired carriage. As the carriage turned and began its journey back to town, I saw her profile through the window. She sat very straight and looked forward, as if she were staring into a destiny empty of hope.
I hoped I did not have the same look as I returned to my house.
* * *
I went to the boathouse, where my galley was moored, and looked at the boats that Lord Rackheath kept there, then returned to the house and called Rufino Knott. I told him that I would soon be involved in an encounter with a knight, and that he would have a part to play. “Hold yourself ready for tonight,” I told him, “for we shall conduct some experiments.”
Coronel Lipton came to the house just before supper, with a long package carried in a cloak under his arm. “It is arranged for dawn the day after tomorrow,” he said. “I insisted on an extra day so that Westley may have time to cool his temper, sure, but in truth so that you may practice with the weapons. For though you have your way with the setting, Whyte had his way with the blades, and you will fight with rapier and dagger.” He unrolled his cloak and produced the weapons, matched pairs of blades. “I have brought you these to practice.”
I viewed the blades as they lay on the table. “I am of two minds whether I should practice at all,” I said. “If I know only a little, and try to use what I know, I will be overmastered by an opponent who knows more. Whereas if I know nothing, I may yet surprise both Westley and myself with something unexpected.”
“Whether you know the art of defense or not,” said Lipton, “yet I can still teach you a few things that may be useful.”
“Well,” I said, “stay to supper, and we’ll discuss the matter.”
We had as pleasant a supper as was possible beneath the darkling clouds of doom that hung over me, and then went to the tennis court to practice with the rapiers. They were indeed awkward weapons, being about four feet long, heavy, and useful mainly in the attack. The daggers, more nimble, were also used for the defense, to ward off the longer weapons, though they had other employment as well.
“If you can,” said Lipton, “pass inside the compass of Westley’s rapier, and with your dagger yerk him under the ribs.”
“If I can,” I repeated.
“And if all else fails,” Lipton affirmed, “there is the strike of the peasant.”
This strike, the name implied, was so simple that even an untutored dalcop such as myself could master it. With the left hand I would grasp the blade of my rapier below the hilt, and then, using the rapier as a spear, I would knock Westley’s sword aside and skewer him through his vitals.
“So,” I said, after practicing. “That is a brutal stroke indeed.”
“It is despised as a barbaric stroke, sure, yet it may save your life.”
“I must drop my dagger in order to use it.”
“It is a last resort, youngster. It is drop the dagger or die.”
I shared a last glass of wine with Lipton, then thanked him. The sun was near setting, and I made sure water was heating in my bath, and in the servants’ bath-house. I met with Rufino Knott, and we went to the boathouse and conducted some experiments there, under cover of darkness. Afterward I warmed myself in my bath, and then made my way to bed.
It was some time before I managed to sleep. I was deeply concerned for Lady Westley, and I was frustrated by my inability to help her. I did not want her to share what would almost certainly be her husband’s ruin, but yet I had no power to affect events. I could not file for divorce on her behalf, nor could I make her speak with her old guardian about her situation.
I could, I suppose, relieve Sir Edelmir by buying some of his debt, but that would not prevent him from incurring more debt. I had
no power to keep him away from cards and dice.
I supposed that Sir Edelmir’s challenge was prompted in some way by the Count of Wenlock, but I had little doubt that Orlanda was the ultimate source of the plot. I had not seen her since her appearance on Gannet Island during the last of that wild storm, but I was confident she had been working against me all this time, and I wondered how many traps she had laid besides the one she had just sprung.
I knew, for example, that Wenlock hated me, but it seemed past credit that he hated me so much that he would turn to plotting murder, not when I was no threat to him or to his position. Unless, of course, an ethereal voice whispered in his ear and suggested that now was a ripe time for me to die, and how my death might be accomplished.
I myself heard no voices whispering in the night, and after midnight managed to sleep.
* * *
I woke early, and then was faced with how to occupy myself during what might be the last day of my life. So I took my crew out on the lake for their exercise, and had my tennis lesson, and then went into the town to visit my notary and make some minor revision to my will. I left some money for my body to be carried to Ethlebight and laid with appropriate ceremony in my family’s mausoleum. All my gems and jewels would be left to Their Graces of Roundsilver, in return for their friendship and kindness, and everything else to my friend and partner Kevin Spellman. I also made certain arrangements that, in the event of my not returning from the encounter, handbills would be printed giving the circumstances of my death, so that Westley would have to flee, and Wenlock might suffer some embarrassment. He was of the nobility, and so it was unlikely he would face a judge for the crime of killing a commoner, but at least I could proclaim him as a coward and a sneak.
That left me with most of the afternoon, and I did not fancy rambling about Rackheath House by myself with nothing to think about but the possibility that Westley’s rapier might soon be lodged in my guts, so I dressed in my court clothes and went to Ings Magna, where I found myself a game of cards and won six royals.
I went home, supped alone, and went to bed early with a book of Erpingham’s Tales. To my surprise, I slept well.
* * *
Clouds of fragrant woodsmoke drifted over the lake as the palace cooks lit their fires. My galley rowed to Ings Magna just as the eastern sky began to lighten, and there we met Coronel Lipton on the quay and took him on board. Then Dunnock sailed across the lake and behind one of the islands, where I was appointed to meet Sir Edelmir Westley in combat. Behind us we trailed a rowboat, about five yards in length, that I’d found in the boathouse, and which the servants used for fishing and running errands to town. Once we were concealed by the island, I cast the lead to find a deep spot, then anchored the rowboat in twenty feet of water.
A party waited upon the shore, all cloaked against the cold winter dawn. In the dim light I recognized Westley by his long black hair, and Sir Hector Whyte by his self-importance. That worthy stood on the edge of the shore, his legs spread as if riding a horse, the water lapping at his boots. He was older than I had anticipated, with gray in his hair and beard. His gross body stood square to us in an attitude of defiance, and his bearded chin was thrust out as if asking for someone to strike him on the jaw. His manner was so insolent I was tempted to oblige him.
Two other gentlemen lurked in the darkness behind, by the carriages that had brought them to the spot. I suspected they might be ruffians whose task, if Westley’s stroke failed, was to see me to the next world, and was therefore glad I had armed my boat’s crew against treachery with swords and pistols, concealed in a compartment in the stern.
The galley came gently to the shore, and Coronel Lipton stepped off, carrying his pairs of matched weapons under his arm. Dunnock backed away, then took me to the rowboat. I turned the tiller over to Boatswain Lepalik, let my boat cloak fall, put on my gauntlets, and stepped onto the rowboat. It rocked under me and sent waves lapping toward the shore.
As I stood on the boat and watched the gentlemen on the shore, I do not believe I felt fear, but instead I seemed preternaturally alert. I felt my senses prickling out in all directions, and I was conscious of the squelching of the mud beneath Coronel Lipton’s boots, the sneer on Whyte’s lips, the touch of the dawn breeze on the back of my neck, the scent of muck and reed and smoke, the last stars fading in the west. It was all of intense interest.
It occurred to me that perhaps I might be all the better for a touch of fear. I did not want to be a dispassionate observer at my own death.
Lipton spoke to Sir Hector for a few moments, and then Sir Hector tossed a coin. It fell into the dew-soaked grass at Lipton’s feet, and he pronounced it heads.
Lipton waved Dunnock toward the shore again, and Sir Hector stepped aboard. He was taken out to the rowboat for an inspection, to make sure I had laid no traps and hidden no weapons. As he stepped aboard, the boat rocked beneath the ponderous weight of his guts. There was very little for him to see on the small craft, and as he passed me standing on a thwart, he glared up at me and gave a sniff.
“It is a damned poor shallop you bring to this encounter,” he said.
“It will serve well enough for a coffin,” said I.
He sniffed again, then returned to the galley and was taken to the shore.
I had insisted that the fight take place on the water, for I was a sailor and wished to fight for the honor of sailors. Westley, who had made the challenge, had no grounds to refuse so long as the boat gave him no disadvantage; and if he refused, I could proclaim him coward. So he had accepted my condition, but insisted on choice of weapons.
Next Lipton came out, to bring my rapier and dagger. “Whyte won the coin toss,” he said, “so we use their blades. The weapons are matched, but I chose the ones I liked the best.”
I took the rapier and dagger and made with them some inexpert motions in the air to judge their weight and utility. They were much as the weapons I had practiced with, the rapier with a web of steel protecting my hand, and the dagger with an enlarged cross-guard for defense.
“They will do,” said I. “Thank you.”
“Luck to you, youngster,” he said in a hearty, artificial voice, and thumped me on the arm.
“I thank you,” I said. “Be on your guard, now, when I come ashore.”
His bushy brows contracted as he considered my words, and then Dunnock returned him to the land, then brought Sir Edelmir Westley aboard. I went to the bow of the rowboat and waited for him to arrive.
Westley was, like me, in his shirt, and carried his weapons in his hands. I had tied my hair back, but he wore his loose, and his face bore a black look that twisted his mouth. He scowled down at the water as he stepped onto the rowboat near the stern, and he stood still, a little pale, as the boat rocked under his weight and the water made bright splashing sounds against the chine.
“So,” I asked him, “how much of your debt did Wenlock buy?”
His head jerked upright, and he gave me such a startled, hunted look that I knew at once that I had guessed aright.
“If you kill me,” I said, “I have arranged that you will be published as an assassin. I do not expect the queen’s justice will be merciful, so you had best fly the country while you may.” I paused for a moment while I juggled the sword in my right hand, as if in thought. “You had best tell that young wife of yours to divorce you, before your crimes bring her down with you.”
He gave me a dull, resentful look, and his lip curled. “Pray let us get on with this business,” he said.
“Ay,” said I. “Business indeed. For my life is worth crowns to you.”
“Gentlemen!” called Whyte from the shore. “Are you ready!”
Westley nodded, and then realized that in the half-light no one had seen it. “Ay,” he said briefly.
I laughed. “As my friend Sir Edelmir requires,” I said.
“I will count to three,” said Whyte, “and then I will wave my handkerchief, and so you may begin.”
Westley care
fully took his stance, his left leg advanced over a thwart, his body bent forward with his right hand above his head, the point of his sword directed at my breast, a stance recommended by the masters of defense. The left hand held his dagger lower down. I adopted the same stance except that I advanced the right leg, which I propped on a thwart.
In spite of the cool air my flesh prickled with sudden blazing heat. I felt my breath catch in my throat, and as the dawn ran along the bright steel, my heart gave a loud thump against my breastbone. Perhaps I was feeling fear after all.
“One,” cried Whyte. “Two. Three!”
As soon as I saw the white handkerchief out of the slant of my eye, I launched myself from the thwart and landed on the starboard gunwale with all my weight on the left foot. There was a great surge of water as the boat tipped, and Westley staggered with a wide step to larboard, his dagger-arm thrashing the air for balance. His shifting weight brought the boat toward a more even keel, and so I leaped again and landed on the larboard gunwale with my right foot.
This brought the boat right over, the lake pouring over the gunwale in a great wave, just as it had when Knott and I had practiced two nights before. Westley was pitched backward into the water, hair flying, arms flailing. As the boat dipped beneath me, I stepped out into the lake with a long stride. The water was desperately cold, and I felt my heart lurch in shock. When the water closed over my head, I scissored my legs, and I popped above the surface to see Westley thrashing the water just as he had when his horse had pitched him into the river during our dragon quest. I let go my rapier, and once I saw that both his hands were empty, I used my dagger to give myself a cut on the right arm just above my gauntlet. The cold water numbed the pain. Then I let the knife fall, seized Sir Edelmir Westley by his long hair, and dragged him to shore.
He lay puffing and sputtering in the shallows, a picture of cold, sodden misery, while I rose with the water sluicing off me and joined Lipton on the shore. Whyte glared at me, his beard jutting out.
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