The Grey Robe

by Clare Smith

  Now it was Tarraquin’s turn to blush.

  There was a sudden loud knocking on the solid wooden door and the Housecharge entered without invitation, his face red and angry. Jonderill jumped to his feet and bowed not caring about the thick balm on his back and the state of his undress. The Housecharge held a circular piece of polished crystal the size of a goblet top in his hand and a dead mouse, which had been partly dissected, in the other.

  “Do these things belong to you?” he asked Animus coldly but not taking his eyes off Jonderill. “If they do I would be pleased if you would cut up your mice elsewhere and not in my kitchens.”

  Animus waddled forward and reclaimed his possessions. “I knew I’d left my spying glass somewhere. Tut, most careless of me.”

  “You have something which belongs to me.” The Housecharge said commandingly, still looking at Jonderill. He beckoned him foreward. “Come, boy, collect your tunic and let’s be getting you back to where you belong, there’s work to be done.”

  Jonderill put his half finished mug of herb tea down on the hearth and looked around for his brown tunic and belt.

  “Now wait a minute,” stuttered Animus. “The boy’s been hurt, he couldn’t possibly work with these injuries, he would be better off staying here for a while.”

  “I’ll find him something which won’t require him to move too much. Now, boy, come with me.” The Housecharge began to leave the room with Jonderill pulling his tunic over his head and reluctantly following behind. For a few minutes life had been pleasant and he wanted to thank Tarraquin and Animus for rescuing him.

  “Stand still and talk to me,” shouted Animus in desperation to the Housecharge’s disappearing back, “or.... or else I’ll turn you into a nasty black wart on the belly of a slimy green toad!”

  The Housecharge stopped and turned around, his face even redder with indignation than it had been before as he pulled himself up to his full height to tower over the short, rotund magician. “You’ll do what, you little pip-squeak?”

  Animus cringed, looking even smaller and more flustered than normal. He cleared his throat loudly and looked towards Plantagenet for support but the glazed look in the tall magician’s eyes showed his mind was far away and he was oblivious to what was going on in the room.

  “They need a servant,” blurted out Tarraquin suddenly. “Just look at the place, it’s such a mess and Animus is forever leaving his things behind. He needs someone to clean up after him.”

  “Yes, that’s right,” agreed Animus, grateful for the girl’s suggestion. “I need someone to pick my things up after me and Jonderill will do nicely.”

  The Housecharge shook his head. “The boy’s just a kitchen servant and he isn’t trained yet but if you need a minder I will send one of the older boys.”

  Animus looked desperate, at a complete loss for words and turned to Plantagenet, kicking him none too gently in the shins.

  “What the.....!” stuttered Plantagenet, blinking rapidly and looking around the room as if he didn’t expect to see it there.

  “He’s taking the boy,” squeaked Animus.

  “Oh no, you can’t do that!” said Plantagenet moving forward and laying his bony hand on the boys shoulder. “He’s my new apprentice, aren’t you Jonderill?”

  Jonderill looked at the two elderly magicians in confusion and apprehension. The Housecharge was not an unkind or cruel master and the hours spent in the kitchen were monotonous but not excessively hard. If he stayed under his protection Tarris wouldn’t be able to touch him again and once he was no longer the newest houseboy the other servants would talk to him and he would have their company to ease his lonely existence.

  On the other hand, everyone knew the two old magicians were strange and most of their magic went invariably but not disastrously wrong. As their apprentice he would be alone and ostracised and once they realised his power was limited to making elemental balls of fire they wouldn’t want him anymore. If they didn’t want him and the Housecharge wouldn’t have him back the only other place was the stables and that meant Tarris. At that moment the choice was easy. He went to speak but the clatter of horses passing outside stopped him.

  “Come on, Jonderill, make your decision. The Princess Daun has returned and we will soon be summoned to the royal presence.”

  Jonderill remembered her blue eyes and red lips and her golden hair. An apprentice magician stood a better chance of being near her than a houseboy and if he could become a real magician anything could happen.

  “I want to be an apprentice magician,” he said in a small voice.

  “Excellent!” exclaimed Animus, putting his arm around Jonderill and guiding him back to his fireside seat.” He sat Jonderill down and thrust the big mug of cooling tea back into his hand.

  “Er, yes, very good,” mumbled Plantagenet, not sure if this had been a good idea or not. After all, the Housecharge was not the best of people to thwart.

  The Housecharge glared at both the magicians. He had little respect or liking for them since the day they had turned all the soup bowls at a royal banquet into chamber pots, complete with contents. Apart from that he hated losing one of his workers and, although it was early days, the boy had shown some promise.

  “As we’ll have the king’s attention for a while, we had better settle the indenture with him before the boy changes his mind.” Animus looked at Plantagenet’s doubt-filled face and hurried on. “You stay here, Jonderill, and when we come back we can have a nice long talk about what you would like to learn first.”

  The rotund magician clapped his hands in excitement, making his rolls of fat quiver as he took Plantagenet’s arm and used him like a battering ram to usher the Housecharge out of the doorway. “Oh, isn’t this exciting!” he exclaimed as he followed the Housecharge out of the doorway and disappeared across the courtyard.

  Jonderill wasn’t so certain about how exciting it was. When he had been a kingsward with no future he had dreamed of being an apprentice. If he was an apprentice he could one day be a free man but he had dreamt of being an apprentice woodworker or saddle maker or builder, not an apprentice to two slightly odd and inept magicians. He would have liked to have been Maladran’s apprentice, that would have been different but Maladran had given him away. The hard lump in his throat returned and his eyes watered.

  “Well, aren’t you going to thank me?” asked Tarraquin from her cross-legged position in the armchair opposite.

  Jonderill had forgotten she was there and looked up feeling less embarrassed now his tunic covered his body as far as his knees. He hadn’t seen the High Lord of Leersland’s daughter since Maladran had blessed the silver-grey stallion two summers previously and in all honesty he hadn’t given her much of a thought. Of course he recognised her but she had changed from a girl into a young woman. Her hair had grown and she wore it tied back in a twisted plait and her face had become thinner and less childlike. The most notable change was in her body which showed all the curves of developing womanhood. Jonderill looked down, somewhat embarrassed about what his feelings were doing to his body. Now he was particularly glad to be wearing his tunic again.

  “It seems to me I am always saving you from one disaster or another. Now that’s two favours you owe me. You can pay them back when you’re a famous magician. I shan’t forget you know.”

  “You had better claim them now then,” said Jonderill miserably. “I doubt I will ever even be a poor magician, let alone a famous one.”

  “Why not?” questioned Tarraquin, almost laughing. “A couple of summers with these two to learn the good stuff and then another three with that lord of hellden, Maladran, to learn the bad. It sounds like a well balanced apprenticeship to me.”

  Jonderill sighed. “I’m no longer in Maladran’s favour.”

  Tarraquin looked shocked. “What do you mean?”

  “He gave me away so I could be sold to someone else.”

  “You mean just as if you were a horse or a sack of oats?” The boy nodded, keeping his e
yes fixed on the floor. “Oh Jonderill, that’s terrible!” His obvious hurt and shame made her put a comforting arm around his shoulders. “Didn’t I tell you he was a horrible, callous man who cared for no one but himself. I bet he never really cared about you at all so why should you care about him?”

  “There’s no reason,” said Jonderill, “no reason at all.”

  “Do you mean that, Jonderill, do you really mean it?” Tarraquin leant forward eagerly waiting for Jonderill’s answer.

  “Yes, I really mean it,” he said through a half choked back sob. He closed his eyes to hold back the tears which still came when he thought of Maladran and didn’t see the look of anticipation in Tarraquin’s eyes.”

  *

  Tarraquin closed the outer door to the magicians’ tower and stepped out into the warm air of a brilliant afternoon, her thoughts a whirl of mixed emotions. She had reluctantly come to Vinmore to attend the princess’s birthday celebrations, not because she knew the girl well, and after the events of the last few days was happy to keep it that way, but because she had been ordered to by the High Lord. The first two days had been full of childish parties and juvenile games where the Princess Daun had won every prize.

  It was only the promise of going hunting on the third day which had kept Tarraquin from packing her bags and going home. However even that had turned out to be another opportunity for the princess to show off and lord it over everyone else. It had really been three miserable days and tonight’s masquerade party didn’t sound as if it would improve matters. She wondered if she dare bring Jonderill along with her dressed in a fancy costume and silver mask but decided it might be going a bit too far.

  Meeting Jonderill again had been the only worthwhile part of the visit. She thought how he had grown since they had last met; he was already as tall as she was despite her being two summers older. Now he was apprenticed to the magicians she might be able to persuade her father to let her come to Vinmore more often and then she could spend some time with him and perhaps get him to like her better. Her father might not be too happy when his daughter and heir married a magician but he would become used to it in time. The biggest problem, of course, would have been Maladran, but now Jonderill and he were no longer friends that problem was removed. Best of all the way was now open for her to avenge her dead brother and remove a threat to her future in one go. That was going to take careful preparation and a steady nerve.

  Deep in thought she crossed the courtyard, intent on ensuring her horse had been properly cared for after leaving it in the hands of a confused looking stableman, when she decided not to follow the rest of the mob on their hunting trip. Plans and ideas which she had considered on many occasions but which she thought she would never have the chance to put into action filtered through her thoughts so that she didn’t notice the young man crossing the courtyard to intercept her until she walked into him. The sudden impact made her reel backwards and she would have fallen if it had not been for Pellum catching her in his arms. He helped her gain her feet and then kissed her finger tips and gave her a dazzling smile which made her blush.

  “I’m sorry Your Highness,” she stammered in confusion, “I didn’t see you there.”

  “It was my fault, My Lady, I shouldn’t have come upon you so unexpectedly but I saw you were alone for once and I thought I would take the opportunity to speak to you without any annoying interruptions.” He gave her another dazzling, dark-eyed smile and placed her arm securely in the crook of his arm and patted her hand condescendingly. “I’m most interested to learn about Leersland and its people and you would make a most charming and beautiful tutor.”

  Tarraquin blushed again and made an attempt to pull away from Pellum but he continued to hold her arm captive within his. “I was on the way to the stables, My Lord, to make sure my horse had been properly cared for.”

  “Excellent!” exclaimed Pellum. “That’s an ideal place for us to talk without anyone getting in the way.”

  There was nothing Tarraquin could do but let him lead her in the direction of the stables. At sixteen Pellum was as tall as a grown man, and although he still needed a few summers to harden his muscles, he was already broad across the shoulders from practising with sword and spear. His hair was dark brown and wavy and his eyes the deepest brown Tarraquin had ever seen. They twinkled when he laughed, which seemed to be most of the time, giving him an air of supreme confidence. He led Tarraquin into the stables and released her hand so she could find which stall her horse was in. Quietly he closed and bolted the stable door and followed her to a stall at the far end of the warm and shadowy building.

  Tarraquin stroked the nose of her grey gelding, satisfied that the stable hand had taken good care of him. She took an apple from her pocket and held it out for the horse and almost jumped when Pellum’s arms enfolded her around the waist. She tensed slightly as he started to kiss her neck and then moved upwards to nibble her ear lobe. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation and she relaxed again, letting Pellum’s lips move down her neck and back up to the other ear. She felt his hand move from around her waist to clutch at one breast and the other move downwards to rub the top of her thigh. That was enough for her and she began to pull away but her arms were pinned to her side and Pellum was proving to be very strong. She began to object but Pellum suddenly swung her around in a very practised manoeuvre and pressed his lips to hers so tightly that she could scarcely breathe.

  Without moving his lips away from hers he pulled her away from the edge of the stall and pressed her to the floor in the newly scattered hay. His full weight pinned her body down and then he held her there whilst he eased himself back to smile at her. “I’ve been watching you, lady, and I’ve seen the way you’ve been eyeing the men and giving them the come on so I thought I would oblige you. Having a prince inside you has got to be better than being laid by a common soldier.”

  “Get off me!” pleaded Tarraquin, trying to push him away but her struggling only made him laugh the more. He started to undo the fastenings of her dress, exposing the naked flesh beneath.

  “Get off or I’ll scream!”

  “No you won’t, you’re enjoying yourself too much. He placed a callused hand over her mouth whilst he released the last fastenings on her dress, pulled the bodice aside and took one pale breast in his hand making her writhe. His knees pushed into her thighs, forcing them apart whilst his other hand released her breast and began undoing the fastenings of his leggings. With one hand over her mouth and the other occupied between her thighs, his hold on her arms slackened.

  Tarraquin fought until both arms were free and in desperation drew the stiletto blade from the wrist guard beneath the sleeve of her dress. Before Pellum could regain his grip on her arm the point of the blade had drawn a small bead of blood at the back of his neck and any other movement would certainly have ended his life. He froze, not daring to move a muscle.

  “You wouldn’t hurt me, not when we’re going to be lovers.”

  “No, you’re right, I wouldn’t hurt you but I will kill you without thinking if you make one more move against me. Now back off slowly and carefully.” Pellum backed off slowly into a kneeling position, still feeling the cold blade on his neck as Tarraquin moved with him. “Stand up slowly and remove your leggings and small clothes and then move towards the door.”

  He stood and carefully did as he was told before moving to the stable door at knife point. “You’re not going to make me go outside like this are you?” he asked, his manhood standing up proudly in front of him. “You know I only wanted a bit of fun with you, most girls enjoy it.”

  “And I am sure they are going to enjoy this too,” announced Tarraquin, prodding him through the open stable door with the tip of her blade and slamming the door shut after him.

  Pellum covered himself the best way he could and looked back to give a wry grin. Not only was Tarraquin attractive but she had real fire which he would enjoy playing with, if not now at a later date. Until then there were plenty of others with whom he
could share his charms.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  CHAPTER NINE

  Comrades in Arms

  Barrin cut off another thick slice of liver sausage with a well used knife and held it steady between blade and thumb as he considered the situation. “Wouldn’t Animus even listen to your arguments? I mean he’s always seemed reasonable to me, even if he is a bit peculiar but to just say no and leave it at that just don’t seem right at all.”

  Jonderill sighed and picked at the loaf of bread he shared with Barrin. He had come to appreciate their meetings, sitting on the grassy banks which butted up against the high city walls and enjoying the rare luxury of free time and comradeship. It wasn’t that his masters were cruel or unkind or even demanding but there was always something which required his attention. Most of the time it was fetch and carry, clean and wash, shop and cook but in between that there was his practice and hours of study.

  In fact it was the typical life of an apprentice except for one thing, he was the only apprentice magician in all of the six kingdoms and whilst other apprentices had their fellows to talk to when things weren’t going right he only had Plantagenet and Animus. That was why he enjoyed his meetings with Barrin so much although Animus objected to the waste of time and had told him as much that morning in no uncertain terms. Sitting in the noon day sun, eating the meal and wine he had brought with him and talking about all the things growing boys needed to share made him feel less of an outcast and helped him ignore the taunts and laughter of others.

  He preferred this meeting to their occasional night time get togethers when he would go to the Soldier’s Rest and share a jug of ale with his friend in the noisy common room. It was difficult to talk there about anything important because of the bustle and Barrin’s father dragging his son away to help with the serving. Sometimes he thought the innkeeper did it on purpose to separate them but he hadn’t suggested that to Barrin.