The General's Legacy_Part One_Inheritance

by Adrian G Hilder

  Cory finally noticed his brother’s reaction and asked, ‘What has you so enraptured?’

  Sebastian, normally hesitant to admit to things of this nature, paused for a few heartbeats to consider if he should answer. But this was his brother, Cory, the one person in the world he felt comfortable confiding in, so he answered, ‘Oh, just the future mother of my children.’

  Cory took it as one of Sebastian’s mischievous moments and countered, ‘Not after I get there first.’

  ‘I wasn’t talking about…’

  Cory missed the serious look on his brother’s face and the rest of Sebastian’s answer was drowned out by the raucous start of the next piece.

  With the new dimension in which to enjoy it, Cory was elated by the close of the performance. People began filing out as the performers packed up their instruments.

  Carn stood to leave. It crossed his mind to introduce himself to the two princes, but he had a higher priority meeting in mind. He just nodded and said, ‘Your Highnesses,’ as he departed.

  ‘Come on, we’ll get a space in the Happy Fiddler and they will join us there.’ Sebastian nudged Cory under the arm as he spoke.

  ‘I was hoping to catch Julia before she left.’

  ‘Rest assured, Brother, the “they” I’m talking about will include your new favourite violinist.’

  Cory frowned — not because he doubted his brother’s word, but because he was just a little surprised at this improvement in his social aptitude. ‘How would you know?’

  ‘My secret scout, remember?’ Sebastian replied.

  ***

  The Happy Fiddler was a ridiculous dancing fellow decorating a swinging name sign outside the tavern that was its namesake. He managed the impossible feat of playing the violin simultaneously with the capering of his feet. Serious violinists who had not mastered the art of placing tongue within cheek would huff, puff and criticise. Usually, one of the regulars would provide the requisite sense of humour for the benefit of the ‘huffer and puffer’. By the time people reached the bar, it was typically smiling all round and a larger round for all. The tavern keeper had a keen nose for business and did nothing by accident, except drop the occasional tray, which usually earned a round of applause. That might make the canny-minded wonder if even this was a mistake.

  Somehow, Sebastian knew in advance what drinks to buy and placed them strategically on a table with space for six. They started sipping their drinks, not wanting to get ahead of the rest of the crowd who soon followed. The drink placement strategy placed Julia beside Cory. He was cornered. Her jacket, a description for which slipped out of Cory’s mind as easily as it slipped off her shoulders, came to rest on the back of her chair that he just about summoned the presence of mind to pull out for her. The beaming smile was still waiting for him, though it had lost the shyness that had been there on that first day. Behind the smile lay a more confident and intelligent woman than his first impression of her had suggested. Unsure of exactly the best approach to conversation to take, given his record so far, Cory just joined in with the others. Whatever came to mind came to mouth with due consideration for present company. This wasn’t the time or place for the soldier’s version of tavern talk — though Cory’s mild version of that could, at least, be listened to by his father. The seat next to Sebastian was still empty and he was a little subdued, which was not entirely unusual for him. There was no mistaking Greta’s entrance; she lit up the room as she came in. Her hair continued the bounce just a little longer than the rest of her as she took her seat. Greta dominated the conversation for a while as easily as one of her solo cello pieces could dominate an orchestra house. As her exuberance subsided, Cory noticed Sebastian’s lighter mood. Following a comment from Greta, Sebastian did something he rarely did: he made a well-observed, wonderfully witty comment that made them all laugh. Greta was most enthusiastic by half. She gripped his wrist and used his arm to support her forehead while she recovered from laughter.

  Their time at the tavern was coming to a close. Cory’s conversation with everyone, including Julia, had come easily, and he had quite forgotten he was supposed to be considering his words carefully. Everyone stood to leave and Cory held Julia’s jacket as she slipped back into it. They were both heading the same way home so he offered his arm, which she took with a smile — a slightly mischievous smile.

  They walked a short way, then Cory said, in a light-hearted tone, ‘You’ve discovered Greta.’

  Julia laughed. ‘Greta discovered me.’

  ‘Of course!’ He chuckled back. ‘An amazing piece you two played, quite different. I was transfixed, and I think Sebastian was too.’

  ‘Thank you. It is one of my favourite, er, lively pieces. I like lots of quieter pieces too.’

  ‘You seemed at home on the stage.’

  Julia gave him a quizzical look.

  ‘I mean you seemed comfortable there, like that was where you belonged… in control.’

  ‘Yes, the job and the joy of playing is the same wherever you are from and whatever language you speak.’

  ‘You seem to have settled in well. Sorry, I’ve not been around much this week.’

  ‘Do not worry, Greta came to my rescue; she has been showing me around. We have been clothes shopping and all kinds of those things. I do not think Guardsman Blake was excited by our shopping, though.’

  Cory glanced behind them and spotted an armoured man following at ten paces distance.

  Julia was quiet for a few heartbeats before she asked, ‘How were you yesterday? I saw you leave the funeral.’

  Cory turned his gaze back to Julia and the frown of sympathy she wore countered his approaching melancholy. ‘It was a rough day. Very strange. I'm all right today.’

  They were almost at the lodge and the burning question that had been scrambling around Cory’s mind all day finally escaped. ‘Shall we take that horse ride down the valley tomorrow afternoon?’

  The frown she had worn was now chased away by one of her smiles. ‘I thought you might have forgotten.’

  He grinned. ‘No chance.’

  Julia was now standing in the open doorway of the lodge; the moment to part had come. She held out her hand. Cory wondered if she meant to shake hands but her palm was facing down. It was the second time he had stood in this doorway today, and the memory of Pico’s little smile at their handshake flashed through Cory’s mind. The young general in the making began to sense a game. He looked up at Julia and there on her face, in the international language of mischief, was the kind of smile Sebastian had when he was up to something. His grandfather had been a master of that smile too. This was a trap. The sort that would be fun to walk into. So he did. He took her hand and kissed the back of it. Not a great kiss, considering the grin he couldn’t keep off his face, and he winked as he let go of her hand.

  ‘See you in the stables after lunch,’ she said through the still-present grin, then she pulled off a convincing Greta bounce into the lodge and shut the door.

  ***

  The Day of the Sun was the day in the week when Cory mixed with the faithful in church. He sat at the front of the church with Sebastian and his mother by his side. A young boy and girl, perhaps nine or ten years old, walked to the front of the church holding long, thin candles in front of them. They used the lit candles to light a pair of oil lamps hanging on a frame that supported a flat bronze casting of the sun almost twice their height. The lamps were shielded so that that most of the light reflected off the facsimile of the sun. A golden light warmed the front of the church and set the faces of the people in the front seating rows aglow. Archpriest Ranold stood before the bronze sun with his eyes closed for a short, private prayer before he walked several paces forward, opened his eyes and began proceedings with the same old words that drifted past Cory’s consciousness. There was a time he might have been able to recite them. Their meaning was a mystery he had no interest in rediscovering right now. Ranold asked the congregation to pray for many
things. It was only when the name Garon Allus Artifex-Dendra was mentioned he suddenly returned from daydreams about a horse ride he had on his mind and joined in the prayer for his grandfather’s soul. He sang the songs and presented himself in turn with everyone else to receive the archpriest’s blessing of the light before the bronze sun. The church was busier than normal; there were people standing in the aisles and around the sides of the church. The blessing ceremony stretched out much longer than normal. With the service finally over, Cory left Sebastian and his mother behind. After eating a hurried lunch courtesy of Mrs Samshaw, he went to the stables to saddle Sunny.

  ‘Handsome beast,’ Julia observed, silhouetted as she leaned against the stable doorway. She let the comment hang there for a moment with that new, mischievous smile playing with her mouth then asked: ‘Does he have a name?’

  ‘Sunny. I was ten when he was born. It was a bright, sunny day, so that’s the name I gave him.’

  Julia looked Sunny over. The stallion was brown with splashes of white and boots of white hair. Eighteen or more hands high — bigger than her brown mare the groom was leading out for her, saddled and ready.

  ‘I have some good news,’ Cory announced, with a smile. ‘Blake has agreed to stay behind so long as I take my sword with me.’

  ‘That is good news.’ Julia beamed, eyeing the scabbarded blade secured to Sunny’s saddle.

  Content without conversation, they rode through Tranmure, out beyond the last buildings and off the main road to the beginning of a trail. The pathway was only a little wider than a horse and ran into a sparse copse of silver birch trees. The sun shone through leaves fluttering in the breeze.

  Cory was about to lead on when Julia looked at him with a mischievous smile that issued a silent challenge. The sleek brown mare took off down the trail with a kick from Julia’s heels and Sunny didn’t need much encouragement to follow. Cory blinked as the dappled sunlight flickered in his vision. He caught glimpses of iron shoes on the horse in front as it galloped, and Julia’s hair streaming behind her as she flattened herself on the saddle. She was gradually pulling away from him. Cory shouted encouragement in Sunny’s ear, ducking to avoid thin twigs that tried to whip at his face. The horses thundered out from under the partial cover of the silver birch trees. Cory reckoned on about five or six horse lengths between them, but Julia and her mare were still creeping away. Cory grinned, accepting that over a short sprint a fit Nearhon plain horse usually had the edge over even the fastest Vale horse. Sunny’s snorts got louder as, unbidden, he stretched himself harder, straining forward. Cory’s smile faded as he saw the approaching fork in the trail. The right path headed down and back to the river and Cory had a particular hill in mind that meant taking the left trail upwards. As his grandfather said, the waterfalls flow this time of year; it is beautiful and the hill provides the best view. All of which makes it a favourite place for couples to meet. Cory wondered if this was why his grandfather had suggested it.

  He called out, ‘Take the left trail!’ but the rush of air stole his words. Just as a frown started to form on his face, he saw Julia guide her mare up the left trail and she glanced back at him. Was she still smiling? Sunny made his own mind up to cut left early, and his hoofbeats changed tone as he transitioned to softer ground, then returned to the harder ground. Cutting the corner might have saved half a head in the distance. It seemed the mare was no longer extending its lead, but they were still well ahead on open ground. Cory crouched as low in the saddle as he could and yelled at Sunny again. It felt as if he had no more speed to give, but showed no signs of slowing. They were riding uphill right into the sun shining in the clear sky between the mountain ranges that made the sides of the valley. The glare made the ground appear dull. The trail split three ways ahead. The left trail went up steeply and eventually turned back north into mountain gullies. The middle trail was narrow, partly overgrown by a thick stand of bushes and not as clear. Most travellers going this way took the well-worn right trail back down to the river.

  The middle trail, Cory thought as Julia reached the point where she would have to make a decision. He watched her horse vanish into the bushes on the middle trail and Cory began to wonder how she knew which way to go. Sunny plunged through the bushes after her and leant for the turn that came immediately after. Cory caught a glimpsed of Julia’s eyes and hair as she glanced back at him again before guiding her horse off the trail and directly uphill. Cory shook his head and turned Sunny to follow. He had forgotten the hedgerow until it rushed up in their path and Julia showed no signs of slowing.

  ‘She’s not…’ Cory said aloud to himself.

  Julia’s mare leapt and disappeared over the hedge. Cory, fearing injury to Sunny, tried to guide him right back to the trail. Sunny was having none of it and powered on harder towards the hedge. Cory’s eyes widened as he took his weight on the stirrups and leant forward for the jump. The thumping rhythm of hooves ceased for a moment of weightlessness before horse and rider grunted on impact. Sunny regained his pace and galloped on up the hill. Julia pulled her horse to a halt and looked back, a smile on her flushed face, as Sunny cantered to a halt behind her. The mare flicked a flirtatious tail at Sunny, who, pride hurt, turned a disinterested cheek.

  ‘You seem to know where you’re going,’ Cory said.

  ‘Greta likes riding,’ Julia replied.

  Of course. It seemed he was no longer needed as a guide.

  ‘Do you think you might like to have a faster horse?’ Julia asked. The mischievous grin was still there.

  ‘Well… let me put it this way,’ Cory paused for breath, ‘when Sunny is too old to carry me I will still be visiting him in the pasture feeding him grain from my hand. I was concerned about you jumping the hedge.’

  ‘I was trying to teach Greta to jump it a few days ago,’ Julia said, starting to dismount, ‘but she was not brave enough. I knew what was on the other side.’

  A few heartbeats passed while Cory smiled down at the girl smiling back up at him. He dismounted, and they tethered the horses and headed uphill on foot. The huffing of the horses’ heavy breaths faded behind them.

  ‘Something’s puzzling me,’ Cory said.

  Julia looked confused as she gathered her hair and pushed it back over her shoulders.

  ‘Sorry, you speak our language so well that I keep forgetting. There is something I do not understand. People typically join the music academy at about thirteen or fourteen years old. You seem to be an expert player already; I do not understand why you would want to come here.’

  Julia thought for a while. ‘It is different here. The orchestra uses compositions I have never played before; I am already learning a lot from playing those. When I play some of my pieces here, it is different. This orchestra has a different character, a different style. It is adding something to my performances. Greta plays with a lot more energy than my cello partner back home, which is already influencing how I play. It is helping me to grow in a way that I could not back home.’

  The explanation left Cory with nothing other than, ‘Oh…’ as a response.

  Julia continued, ‘It was your idea to invite me.’

  ‘I came up with the idea I should try to be a diplomat; it was my grandfather’s idea to invite you.’

  ‘What makes a soldier want to become a diplomat?’

  ‘We play these war games over and over to learn strategy. You try to be smarter and bring different things to the battle, like battle mages, which the other side does too. All that really changes is how many people on both sides get killed.’ Cory paused for a few steps. ‘I just thought the smart thing to do was to try and solve the problem that caused the war in the first place. So I thought learning to be a diplomat might be a step in the right direction.’

  Julia used the silent moments that followed to reclaim Cory’s arm, then a piece of trivia found its way out of Cory’s mind.

  ‘What is that little block you rub on your bowstring?’

  �
�Oh, I cannot think of the name you call it. It allows the hairs of the bow to grip the strings and make them sing. Without it there is no sound. I will have to ask Greta what the word is for it.’

  ‘You’re learning a lot from Greta, I take it?’ he asked. Including that mischievous smile that’s just come back, he thought privately.

  ‘Oh yes, she tells me all kinds of things, and if she does not know the answer she finds it easy to get them from Sebastian.’

  The comment on its own might not mean much, but when made with that mischievous smile Cory’s imagination ran wild with possibilities.

  ‘She helped me find this new outfit…’ She let go of his arm, gave a twirl and returned. ‘What do you think?’

  It was made of a green, velvety material, not at all baggy like the travelling clothes she had arrived in. He had been trying not to notice her curves since the first moment in the stable.

  ‘I think it’s…er…very flattering. It looks good on you.’

  ‘There is something else I really want to know. Will you be honest with me, Cory?’

  Cory had been doing the Sebastian plus Greta arithmetic in his mind and started to think there was not much Julia did not know. ‘I’m not sure I have any secrets left after whatever Sebastian and Greta can come up with between them,’ he said. ‘I dare not be anything else but honest.’

  Her mischievous smile reached its peak. ‘I thought it might be usual… protocol here, but I have not seen anyone else do it and I do not believe you’ve done it with anyone else.’

  Cory felt lost in a forest full of traps.

  ‘The hand-kissing thing you do, when is that considered appropriate protocol?’