by Gahan Hanmer
"Do you like it? Do you think it's beautiful?"
"Yes, I do." Why was he smiling at me that way?
"Have you ever thought to yourself how nice it would be if it was your castle, instead of Albert's?"
A lump came up in my throat and I didn't want to swallow, because that seemed like a dead giveaway to certain feelings I was hiding even from myself. But it was such a troublesome lump, I had no choice but to swallow it, and Griswold pointed his finger at me and laughed.
"You can't hide anything from me, Darcey. Old Harvey, the Earl of Quim, knows all and sees all. And do you want to know how I know?"
"How do you know?"
"Because everybody feels the same way. Because Albert got down on his hands and knees and begged Joel Mason to design him the most seductive and alluring little castle there ever was. Can you guess why?"
". . . Because of Jenna."
"Of course. She wasn't exactly sure how she felt about Albert. She had other lives to lead, other prospects. She was having trouble making up her mind."
Something on my face must have tickled him, for he pointed at me again and laughed. "Isn't it a stitch? If we had a little less castle, we might have a lot less trouble. You and I can look at that lovely pile of stones, float a little daydream by, and then go about our business. But when our friend Guy Hawke looks at it, it's a whole different story!"
I tended to take anything Harvey told me with a grain of salt, but it all seemed pretty close to the mark. I myself was all tangled up with irresistible Jenna, in a situation that could only end in a lot of trouble. And Albert wasn't the first person to try to buy someone's love. Little mistakes in the beginning; big mistakes in the end.
"Anyway, what I'm getting at," Griswold went on, "is that what happened the other day over at Hawke Manor was a big setback in the duke's campaign to trade places with Albert that has been going on for years. And I can tell you with complete certainty that the duke is not the least bit mellow about it. So it's well worth thinking about what he's going to do next."
At that moment a family of five rode in on horseback: a man, a woman, and three young men, one of whom had been involved in the incident with the girl in the woods. This would have to be the marquess, Terry Bennett, and his family. He was the only nobleman I hadn't yet met.
Bennett rode like a horseman, but there was a slackness about the man inside the holiday clothes, and his face was fiery from alcohol poisoning. His eyes were glazed and fearful, like many drunks I had met who live in perpetual fear of themselves.
The woman was clearly the leader of the group. I could see right away that it was her pride and her discipline that held them together. The eldest boy, the one who had been with Albert's son, tried to show himself off by side-stepping his horse, a dangerous trick in that crowd; but she spoke sharply to him, and he obeyed her without hesitation. She was a strong and quite a beautiful woman with dark hair and a full mouth, a serious face, and clear intelligent eyes.
Her eyes fell on me as the group rode by, and they lingered just long enough to make an identification. "Oh, yes," she seemed to be saying to herself, "that must be Darcey, the new one, the fencing master." If she had any notions about me, good or bad, they didn't show.
The oldest boy had a wild look, as though he sought to take after his father. But like his mother, he turned away once he'd picked me out of the crowd and kept his thoughts to himself. The second son seemed complacent, relaxed, and a little aloof, as if life to him was an enjoyable game. The youngest rode closest to his mother, and was still looking around at everything as though life was new and fresh.
"Handsome woman," I said to Griswold.
"Marsha Bennett. She's the only one who can tell her husband that he's had enough."
"What about Bennett? Is he any danger to Albert?"
"No, he loves drinking and sport. He can't see straight enough to be a danger to anybody except himself and his horse."
"What's his relationship with Hawke? I hear they went to college together."
"He looks up to the duke, and the duke likes being looked up to, so he tolerates Bennett and strings him along."
"Why does he look up to the duke?"
"Because the duke is a real man, and Bennett is a sick juicehead."
"Is that all there is between them?"
"As far as I can see."
Not far behind the Bennett family came Lord Hawke with twenty of his men, a grim-looking bunch who were dressed in leather and carried staffs and daggers, just as Albert had insisted. I thought it was aggressive of the duke to come riding in with so many men; but everyone in the valley was invited to the coronation and they had every right to be there. As soon as they entered the great courtyard, his men dismounted and hitched up to the long rail, stacked their staffs in bunches near the gate, and dispersed into the crowd in twos and threes, heading toward the tables where the food and the ale were. They seemed benign enough. We were already keeping a close watch on the situation, and that was all we could do.
Hawke peered around until he spied Albert, and rode carefully through the crowd to where the king was standing. Dismounting, he gave his reins to the stable boy who came running up. Then he surprised everyone who was near enough to see it by going down on one knee in front of Albert and saluting with his fist against his chest. It brought a startled gasp from the crowd; and then everyone who had seen it happen had to tell everyone who hadn't.
"My dear duke, pray do not kneel," said Albert.
The duke rose, bowed to Albert, and said, "Your majesty, please accept my best wishes and the allegiance of my house on this momentous day."
"I am truly touched," said Albert, "and I accept with all my heart."
Albert seemed willing to believe him, and as I looked about, there were many people in the crowd as touched as Albert, and as willing to believe that some kindly Providence had shown the duke the error of his arrogant ways; that now he was trying to reform himself, trying to change.
I was chilled. That Hawke was willing to make a gesture so false and out of character as kneeling and bowing to Albert, made me realize how imminent the danger was. No ring of protection could be too secure, no precautions too strict, for what now seemed surely to be coming. How it was coming or from where, under what guise or pretense, there was no telling. But clearly we hadn't begun to get ready a moment too soon.
"What do you make of that?" I said to Griswold. "I think I'd better help you keep an eye on the duke today."
"Very good, Harvey, thanks a lot. Talk to Sir Leo if you can't find me. We want to know every move he makes, can you do that?"
"Sure I can," said Griswold, and he moved away into the crowd.
I found Sir Leo conferring with Gordon and Rudy and two others from our team. "Ah, Jack," he said, "did you see that? We all agree that this is a very bad sign."
"I think so too. Look, we've been very discreet with our security measures, giving the king lots of space and all that. Let's forget about that tactic for the time being and close right in on him. Sir Leo, with your permission, I'd like six people right around him as close as they can reasonably get, and the other six close by. If he gets completely suffocated, we can spread out a little, but as much as possible I'd like him completely surrounded all the time. What do you say?"
"I'm in favor of that," said Leo, "but what about six in close, and three nearby, and three out roving to see whatever else there might be to see?"
"Even better. Lord Griswold just signed on to help. He's going to watch the duke and report anything he sees."
"It's settled then," said Leo. "You five get right on him. I'll tell the others."
When we caught up with Albert, he was still making his rounds of all the little parties and gatherings, and I will say again that it was the liveliest and most talented crowd of people I had ever experienced. Everyone wanted to do something nice for Albert since it was his wedding day, and probably also because Albert was like everybody's dad, one that had time to stop and pay attention;
and so we were treated to every kind of recital, particularly musical pieces, songs, and dances. Some of the smaller children took a little coaxing because they were in awe of the king; but everyone else seemed eager for their turn to perform, or to offer him something they had cooked, or to tell a funny story. It was all done so unaffectedly and simply that after awhile I was in a sort of trance from all that loving spirit.
"Gordon," I said, reaching out to touch his sleeve, "this is too beautiful. How do these people come to be so free and open?"
"Well, if you ask me, it has a lot to do with the children. These little ones have been here all their lives. They haven't been bombarded with images of sex and violence day and night the way modern children are; and they've never felt the paranoia of a big city. They can see a dragon in a bug; a fairy princess in a stick and a bit of rag. And their purity, if that's what you like to call it, sets the example for all of us as the years go by. You have to have sane children to keep the adults sane, that's what I think."
"When I hear you talk, Gordon, I think sometimes there's a better place for you in this kingdom than to be a cop on market day."
"I don't want a promotion, Sir Jack. I'm the luckiest man on earth. I earn my bread roving around with a horse and a stick, and most of the time I'm free just to listen to the voices of the angels. And speaking of angels, I think we're going to have a song from Mora the Rose."
She was sitting with some other people with her baby on her lap when we came walking up, and she gave me such a friendly, clear-eyed, and happy look when she saw me coming, that my heart went right out to her. She was wearing a skirt and a blouse and an embroidered vest, which must have been her party clothes, and she had sandals on her pretty feet. Her wavy blond hair hung loose around her shoulders.
Everyone stood up when the king approached and all the women curtsied. "Will your majesty be pleased to have a drink with us?" asked one of the men.
"Yes, Fred, I will," said the king, "but just a teeny tiny one, for I'm getting married very shortly and I don't want to be fuzzy-headed. And after my drink, I'd like to hear Mora sing."
Mora smiled, but she didn't giggle or fidget or make any modest protestations. She flashed me one brief glance that was a little self-conscious and that was all. Maybe she was hoping I would like her singing.
Albert had his drink, which was only a pretend drink, just a sip, because he would have been three sheets to the wind a long time ago if he had had a real drink with everyone who asked him. Then he took the stool someone offered him.
Mora stood up, put the baby on her hip, and began to sing a merry little song about some forest animals that went on a picnic together, and about what each one brought for them all to eat, like the rabbit brought carrots, and so on, until they all enjoyed a delicious stew together. She had a clear, youthful voice which radiated joy in a way that brought tears to my eyes. When she finished her song, she let out a deep breath and grinned at the king.
Someone else was singing now. I could hear it faintly, so faintly I had to listen closely to make sure it wasn't my imagination. Sure enough, a procession of chanting monks led by Father Frederick, the abbot, was approaching the castle carrying crosses and censers. The church procession marked the beginning of the coronation.
Albert rose from his stool and took Mora's hands in his. "Thank you, my child," he said. "It always makes me so happy to hear you sing."
Mora curtsied. "You're very welcome, your majesty."
"And now," said Albert, "if you will all kindly excuse me, I have an appointment even a king can't be late for."
"Well, did you like it?" Mora asked me.
"Yes, Mora, I certainly did. It was pure delight, like everything else about you."
Well, that lit the light in her eyes. "If we go now," she said, "we can get a good seat down front to watch the ceremony."
My first impulse was to give her my arm and go right along with her. While she was singing, I was certainly in love with her. But then it occurred to me that it wouldn't do at all for me to be Mora's date in the front row at the wedding. That would be much too symbolic, and much too public; and what would that do to her chances of finding a nice, young husband her own age? What, you're thinking of courting Mora the Rose? Didn't you know she was sitting with Sir Jack himself at the coronation?
I was also thinking about Jenna and what she might think if she saw Mora and me together. It would be obvious to her that there was something going on between us. Of course there was the possibility she might just be amused by the situation, but I saw no reason to count on that. Actually, I didn't know much about what Jenna thought. Thinking had very little to do with our relationship. I was inclined to believe she felt somehow obliged to cheat on Albert, though I couldn't say why. We all have our loose screws, and that was one of hers. One of mine was that I couldn't resist taking what women offered me, no matter how much trouble it was likely to cause.
"I have to stay close to the king today, Mora. I'm on guard duty."
"Can't you get someone else to do it?"
"I can't. Not today." Why was I hedging? Because I could smell her, that's why. Because she looked so healthy and young and sweet. I knew what I was supposed to do, but I wasn't going to do it.
"Look, Mora," I tried, "I've already got gray in my hair. In a couple of years all my teeth are going to start falling out."
She smiled at that. "They are not."
"Yes, they are. This one's loose already, see?" I reached up and pretended to wiggle one of them, but she just continued to smile at my antics. It was no use. I was just playing with her, and I wasn't going to play it straight. My age didn't matter to her; I knew that already. Maybe it even attracted her. So what kind of a game was I running anyway?
Sir Leo had come back for me. "The ceremony is about to begin. You and I and Gordon are going to take seats right up front. Ask the young lady to join you if you want, but let's go now."
When he turned to lead the way I followed, and Mora came right along with me as though I had asked her to. My brain was racing. For a number of good reasons I had decided that this wasn't a good idea, and here it was happening anyway.
"Look, Mora," I said, stopping. "We have to take care of business. It's a long story, but we're worried that something might happen to the king today. If I pay attention to you, I'm not going to be able to do my job."
She looked puzzled. "What could happen to the king today?"
"We're worried about the duke. Did you ever think he'd rather be king than duke?"
"Oh, yes."
"Well, we think he's cooking something up."
"What's he cooking up?"
"Sir Jack, we must go," said Leo.
"I'm coming, Sir Leo," I said over my shoulder. "We think he might try to kill the king."
She seemed amazed at that. "The people would tear him into little pieces," she said. "And I'd help."
How could I explain it to her? "There are a lot of ways it could be done. We've got to be prepared for anything. I can't stay and talk. I have to go now."
"Sir Jack!" said Leo.
"I have to go. I'll talk to you after the ceremony." I turned and ran to catch up with Leo, hoping she wouldn't follow me. Clever Sir Jack! I was actually hoping I could see her later on. I just didn't want Jenna to see us together. The duke was right to wonder, I thought to myself, how I had ever become a knight!
In front of the castle was a gallery of flowers that people had brought from all over the kingdom, and in the center of the gallery was an altar. Plank benches made about twenty rows with standing room behind on the side of a low hill so everyone had a chance to see everything.
The seats were beginning to fill up, but Gordon had saved three for us in the front row. I sat down between Gordon and Sir Leo; and now that I had effectively prevented her from sitting down next to me, I turned around to see where Mora was. She was taking a seat about a dozen rows back with some of her friends. As though she felt my eyes on her, she looked up at me and smiled. I smiled
back and turned around to the front. Everything seemed to have fallen into place for the moment anyway.
As it turned out, Jenna never so much as glanced my way during the entire ceremony, and I doubt she even remembered that I existed, for the coronation was as perfect and as beautiful as a fairy tale, complete with Albert's designer castle in the background. Jenna was as lovely and demure in her elaborate, handmade robes as ever a woman could be, and Albert was as handsome and noble as any king out of the legends. Forgetting even to be jealous, I sat spellbound in a happy stupor.
I was not the only one. Everyone else was as mesmerized as I was. No one fidgeted. No one talked. Everyone was absorbed in the ceremony as if they were watching something both magical and holy.
Finally the moment arrived when Jenna actually became the queen. She waited with acute anticipation shining in her face, and we all waited with her as the abbot slowly lowered the crown. The moment the gold circle touched her brow, we all gave a little gasp, as if we could feel her mystic transformation.
The sun was setting slowly into a notch between two mountains, and the sky was full of shifting colors of every hue. The priests were lighting candles for the final procession, and the chanting, so deep and mysterious, had begun again. Happiness and a feeling of completion at the end of a mythic day, seemed to fill the valley like a sacred vessel.
Three Picts came out of the strip of woods that bordered the river and stood motionless at the edge of the meadow about fifty yards from the altar. In their leafy masks, they looked like a part of the forest that had disengaged itself from the whole in order to honor the coronation.
If there were mixed feelings in the kingdom about the Picts, the mood at that moment was one of reconciliation. I could feel it in the air. Somehow these Picts ought to be included in this salubrious and epic occasion.
But how was it to be accomplished? How could that crowd of thousands accommodate three forest creatures standing so silently at the edge of their endless domain? It was up to Albert, the king of the civilized world, to make the gesture; and we all watched as he rose from the throne, lifted a silver platter of bread from the altar, and moved across the meadow with the tray held in both hands. We waited almost breathlessly, as quiet and motionless as the Picts.