by James Bee
“Aye. A great knight, though I never knew him. They say that he seduced the queen. That is untrue. It was she that drew him to her bed, though it took a long time. The king didn’t discover it on his own. Sir Gerald told him. Once it was clear that the queen was pregnant with his child.”
“Sir Gerald. Oh,”Felicia said quietly, eyes downcast.
“My namesake. The curse I was given after my birth.”Gerald’s hands balled into a fist. “Once the king knew, he summoned the queen before him. Seeing Sir Gerald in chains, she knew that all had been revealed. She begged and pleaded for his life, for the king to spare him. Instead the king gave her a choice.”Gerald paused. As far as he knew, no one else in the kingdom knew what he was about to tell them. None save for the king and the queen. Such knowledge was dangerous.
“What choice?”Orland asked quietly. His voice was soft, but Gerald could see the hunger in his eyes. If anyone had a right to know, it was him and Kayl.
“The king told here he would only spare one life. So she threw herself down and offered her life for his. So deep was their love. Only her life wasn’t the one in the bargain. Mine was. I suppose you can all guess who she chose.”Gerald lifted his head up from the table. Stunned faces looked back at him. The pity in their eyes was sickening. It made him want to escape, to flee the room. Instead he plunged ahead. Better to steer into the wind, after all. “The next day my father was executed, and it was decreed that I was to be named after him, were I a boy. Somehow the truth got out. Maybe people just guessed, or they already knew. Either way, the king made sure that the story was favourable to him. That it made the queen look weak, foolish,”Gerald finished. It felt as though a great force that had been squeezing his chest suddenly released him.
“The king was always so nice to you. Always treated you like a favoured nephew or a squire,”Orland said distractedly. “He’d threatened to kill you as a baby, and yet he smiled at you, your whole life.”
“Aye. He was nothing but kind to me. What else could he be? He had to play his part, the merciful king,”Gerald replied. When he was young, he had fantasized about the monarch being his father. Wondered what life would be like if he had been born a true son, like Rauf.
“Gerald, how do you know all of this?”Kayl asked. The tension that had dissipated clenched him once again.
“The queen told me. One night she summoned me to her bedchambers. Once I got there, I could see that she was drunk; it was obvious. She ranted at me for hours. Told me everything. Blamed me for his death. Said that I should have died in his place. That she made a mistake. That she chose wrong.”Gerald said, voice barely more than a whisper.
“God’s balls! Who could say that to their child!”Tristan said.
“I was never her child. Only her shame,”Gerald said, shaking his head. “And now that I’m grown, they’ve sent me here. To be killed by a northern arrow or knifed in an alleyway. The farce is over. I have played my part, a puppet dancing, proof of the king’s mercy and godliness. Now all I am is an inconvenience. An uncomfortable ghost haunting the palace walls.”Gerald had nothing more to say. He’d spoken all of it. All the words that had been hidden deep inside of him.
Gerald couldn’t bring himself to look into the faces of his friends. What would he see in their eyes? Pity? The kind one has for a beaten dog. Would they be angry with him that he kept this from them for so long?
Instead Orland snatched his mug and raised it about his head. “To inconveniences! May we forever be a thorn in someone’s side.”
“Aye! To ghosts!”Felicia yelled, raising her arm, Tristan following a moment behind her. Kayl bellowed, following suit.
Tears stinging, Gerald clinked his mug against theirs and drained it.
“There isn’t any amount of hurt that can’t be dulled by enough drink!”Orland yelled. Gerald didn’t think he was right, but he was more than willing to try.
20
Chapter 20
Head reeling from the alcohol, Gerald stumbled through the tavern doors. The shock of the night air almost sent him back into the warmth. Instead he pushed forward, away from what he’d just seen. He’d been lost in the fuzziness of good feelings brought on by alcohol and the night’s revelations, wrapped in the gentle embrace of inebriation, feeling as though everything was right with the world. Then he’d seen Orland and Felicia from across the room, attached at the mouth.
Consumed by jealousy and hurt, he forced himself to leave lest he do something foolish. A small, rational part of him knew that he had no reason to feel slighted or betrayed. That neither one of them owed him anything. How could either know his feelings? He hadn't told Orland, too afraid of his friend’s mockery.
Unfortunately, those thoughts didn't stop the hurt, the agony of jealousy burning inside him. How could he face them tomorrow? Would they know? Would he be able to hide his hostility? What right did he have to feel this way?
Isolated by drunkenness and absorbed in his thoughts, Gerald nearly walked into the middle of a brawl. Four men were thrashing at each other, flailing in the near darkness.
Someone should do something about this, Gerald thought dimly. Then, remembering that he was in fact the mayor of the town, and feeling very foolish about it, he stepped forward.
“Halt! S… stop fighting this instant!”Gerald yelled. He thought that his voice sounded normal, but his judgement on the matter was somewhat compromised. Slurred or not, his words had an effect. Two of the men took off into the darkness. Gerald contemplated chasing them, but staying upright was struggle enough for him.
“Who are you, you bugger?”one of the remaining men asked. As he walked up to them, Gerald could see that they were wearing long cloaks, the kind that flowed behind as one walked.
“I am Sir Gerald. Why did … do you not run offff with those f … fellows? I’ve half a mind to throw you two in jail for the night.”Gerald was now completely sure that he sounded as drunk as he was. Better to say as little as possible now, lest he make a fool of himself.
“We have authority for our actions. Fighting for the gods is not a crime,”the other one said, picking something off the ground. It was some sort of club or paddle. Gerald thought about putting his hand on his hilt. After all, swords were better than clubs. Much better. But the other man also had a club. Was a sword better than two clubs? Not a question he really wanted to have answered.
“Who’s ’thority?”Gerald asked.
“Father Lucan. Protector of Redstone and mouthpiece of the gods.”
That’s some pretty good authority, Gerald thought hazily. Suddenly wishing he’d drunk much less, he puzzled about what to do.
“Whatchu doing?”he asked. A good question. One must gather all information before making decisions.
“Patrolling the streets. Fighting for the soul of Redstone. The heathens are trying to sway the people into their baseness and debauchery. Like those two men you let get away. We caught them dripping blood in circles, all over the town square. The city watch does nothing, as do the soldiers,”the taller, hooded man said, voice vibrating with passion.
“Not really a crime, though … is it? Spilling some blood. Hardly worth a beating,”Gerald replied, unease settling in his muddled mind. How long have these men been patrolling the streets? Had this been happening under his nose? Why hadn’t Lucan consulted him?
“It is a crime against the gods! The people of Redstone are afraid of what is coming. They will bow to the foreign gods if no one is here to guide them. It would be foolish to stand against us,”the other hooded man said darkly. Gerald couldn’t really disagree with them, as he could barely stand at the moment. Perhaps the wiser course of action would be to wait until morning, when the ground stopped spinning.
“Carry on then. Just don’t cause any more trouble,”he said, striding/stumbling past them. Behind him, the two men muttered in disgust. Gerald hardly registered the sound, too intent on getting away from them before he vomited his guts all over the cobblestones.
21
C
hapter 21
“Know of any good cures for the morning after drinking?”Gerald asked, wrapped in the agonizing clutches of a hangover.
“That might help some,”the older man said, pointing to a bucket of water that had been left out overnight. Stumbling over to it, Gerald knelt and thrust his head inside. Holding his breath, he waited until it felt like his head was in a vice before rearing back. Icy beads of water slipped under his shirt and down his back, raising gooseflesh all over his body.
“Better?”Fletcher asked. Gerald nodded. It had helped, at least a bit. He wasn’t yearning for the sweet relief of death anymore.
“I suppose we best be getting a move on. Lots to do today,”Gerald said absentmindedly, suppressing a burp. He began to walk down the street, Fletcher striding confidently beside him. Briefly, he wondered how Orland was doing today, having drunk nearly twice as much as Gerald had. Then the image of him kissing Felicia rose, and Gerald pushed the thought away
“Had any luck with your investigation?”he asked Fletcher to put his mind on something else. “I ran into a scuffle between two robed men and two others who were apparently tossing blood all about the town.”
The grey-haired man nodded, mouth puckered into a grimace. “Lucan’s boys. Walking the street trying to beat people with paddles. Someone’s going to get seriously hurt before long. Whole thing is a lot being made about little. Some fools trying to scare people. Not much to report on. Mainly drawing those weird symbols and hanging around the graveyard,”
“Hmm …there’s still no reports of anyone missing. We still haven’t got a clue who the body in the farmer’s cart was,”Gerald mused. He was starting to be frustrated at his lack of progress. He was no closer to figuring out if the corpse was related to the recent cult activity, or if any of it was related to the death of the mayor. The impending attack had driven all that from his mind.
“If it really was a human body. Could have been anything. Better to not waste any more time on this,”Fletcher said.
“Not waste any more of your time, you mean?”
The old soldier grunted in agreement. Gerald couldn’t really argue with him. With the threat of their impending doom, it didn’t seem as important. “What would be your advice then? What should I be doing?”Fletcher gave him a sidelong look, as though wondering if he should answer honestly. The truth was, Gerald was desperate for advice. He was drowning, struggling to keep his head above water.
“Curb Lucan’s power. He’s undermining yours, and it’s making you look weak. If you can’t keep order inside of your town, how can you be expected to protect it from without?”Gerald couldn’t fault the man’s logic. Lucan did have to be stopped. “Blane is also an problem. His men worship him. They’ll follow his every word. You’ll never be their commander, not while he’s around. This is fine if you trust him. If not…”Fletcher left the implication hanging.
“Who would I put trust in instead? Wylliam?”Gerald asked, layering the name heavy with sarcasm.
Fletcher spluttered a laugh.“Not him. He could hardly command a troop of school children.”
“On that we can agree. I thank you for your advice. It was well spoken,”Gerald said as they arrived at the door of the town hall. Fletcher nodded, some of the overt hostility gone from his face. Perhaps Gerald would make a friend of him yet.
As he opened the door, an unwelcome sight awaited him. Lucan and Blane waited for him, each looking as dour as old cats. Felicia stood behind them, looking apologetic.
“Ah, Lucan you’re here. Saves me the trouble of summoning you. Good morning to you too, Blane. You two are up early,”Gerald said, walking past them.
“Our business couldn’t wait!”Lucan said as the two men followed him into his office.
“Please sit, then. I am fully at your disposal,”Gerald said, pouring himself a tall glass of water. His mouth was parched and his throat felt dry and scratchy. Most likely he would need his voice today, if only to yell at the churchman. Slowly, Gerald walked over to his chair and sat down. Taking a long sip of water, he used the moment to appraise the two men in front of him.
Blane looked frazzled, with deep, dark circles under his eyes. No doubt his and Kayl’s efforts to secure the city had be keeping him quite busy. Lucan, on the other hand, didn’t look much worse for the wear. In fact, he looked invigorated, almost younger than when they’d first met. Perhaps he was the sort of man that thrived in such conditions, like a cactus growing in a desert. One thing the two men shared was a look of impatience. Clearly they were in a hurry to get to something. Gerald doubted he would need to many guesses to figure it out.
“Now, what is so urgent?”Gerald asked. Lucan and Blane both started to talk and then stopped, looking irritably at one other. Both were men used to being deferred to. Their partnership would be rocky because of it. Perhaps this was something he could use against them.
“We are here about the recent heretical activities running rampant in Redstone,”Lucan said haughtily.
“Activities that need to be stopped, and those doing them apprehended,”Blane added. Gerald didn’t need to ask what would happen to those unfortunate souls who were caught.
“I won’t argue that it is a nuisance, but it hardly seems a bigger threat than the Sanish forces,”Gerald replied.
“Don’t be a fool! Do you not think the two are not connected!”Lucan blustered. “Strange rituals in the woods, symbols being painted all over the place, and that corpse! All at the same time as this invasion!”
“But what does it matter?”Gerald protested, though weakly. He felt like an idiot that he hadn’t thought to connect the two.
“Can you not see what’s happening, lad?”Blane asked. “They’re frightening people, more than they already are. Everywhere folks look, the northerners are hanging over them. People are scared, and scared people are easily made to do stupid things.”
“Some are already joining the ranks, hoping to appease the invaders so that they will be spared if Redstone falls,”Lucan said.
“We can’t afford to have them in the town. They’ll knife us in the back while we’re fighting. They must be rooted out and cast aside,”Blane added.
Gerald felt overwhelmed, their words raining down on him like blows from a hammer.
“You make a compelling point, my lords. We must be united against the invaders if we are to survive. Though I do not share your convictions about those within the town.”Gerald gestured to Fletcher, leaning against the doorframe. “I have conducted my own investigation. All of the actions inside the city seem to be simple mischief. Hardly anything worth losing sleep over.”
“It is not the actions, it is the intent!”Lucan argued, red-faced. “We must fight for the heart of the city! We cannot let it be corrupted!”
“What is it you’re are suggesting? I already ran into your men, though I fail to see how cloaks and paddles are helping to prevent panic,”Gerald said, trying to keep his voice calm.
“We must find the ringleaders, those leading these men. We must capture them and make an example. Execute a few, and no one will dare oppose the true gods,”Lucan replied.
“But how? These men are ghosts. Are any of them known to you?”Gerald asked. Across from him, both men exchanged a significant look.
“Not yet, but we will,”Blane answered. The coldness of his voice made Gerald shiver.
“I have already spoken on this. I will not allow torture to be used on innocents,”Gerald said.
“THEY ARE NOT INNOCENT!”Lucan exploded, spit flying from his mouth. The churchman’s slight frame was shaking with rage as he raised his finger at Gerald. “You would be wise to help us, lest you fall under suspicion yourself.”The priest’s words hung in the air between them as they glared at each other.
“Careful, my lord. There is a limit to the amount of threats one man can tolerate. I will give you each this one warning. Do anything to jeopardize the safety of this town, and I will strip you naked and cast you through the gates,”Gerald said softly. Both men
opened their mouths to protest, but Gerald slammed his fist of the table, silencing them. “I hold this city. Nothing happens without my word! I am not blind to the dangers that these northern practices pose us. But I will not act without proof. Find it for me and you will have my blessing to stop it as you see fit. But if I hear that harm has come to anyone who is blameless, you will find my patience with you both exhausted.”Gerald’s hands were shaking, so he slid them under the desk. He couldn’t afford to show any weakness, not now.
Both men glared at him in shocked silence. Gerald knew he had probably gone too far. His threats sounded hollow. He should know better than to make a threat he couldn’t carry out. Lucan stood slowly, drawing himself up to his full height.
“When the fat hits the flames, we shall see who holds the true influence in this town,”he said before turning and stalking out of the room. Blane remained seated, staring at him with a peculiar expression.
“I’ll find you your proof. After that, if you stand in my way, I’ll cut you down myself,”the garrison commander said before turning around. He made to leave, but Fletcher stood in his way.
“You might find that hard to do, my lord,”he said tonelessly. The two men stared at each other, neither moving. Both had their hands resting comfortably on the hilts of their swords. Neither looked as though they had much interest in moving out of the way.
Gerald watched, perplexed. Why would Fletcher stand up for him? Why would he risk allying himself with the least popular man in town? The man had shown nothing but contempt for him. It made no sense.
Blane moved first. Lips pulled back in a snarl, he stepped around Fletcher and stalked from the room. Turning, Fletcher watched him go and stood for a while after he left. Gerald was unsure how to break the silence. Should he thank the man? Ignore the moment? Normally he would have bristled at the implication that he needed protection.