The Grey Robe

by Clare Smith

  A day never went by without one of them forgetting to wear or carry an important item. Animus was particularly bad; once he became involved in one of his experiments he would even forget to dress if Jonderill was not there to remind him. Jonderill gave them a quick appraisal. He’d seen to the pressing of their best robes and had put everything out for them ready to dress so it was unlikely that they would forget anything.

  Plantagenet was as immaculate as usual, looking every part the ancient and wise sage, even if the blank look in his eyes did mean he had drifted off to contemplate other matters. Animus was different, shifting excitedly from one foot to the other, eager to join in the betrothal ceremony. Jonderill looked him over carefully and then spotted it, or at least the lack of it. The place at his belt, where his wand should have hung, was empty.

  How on earth could Animus forget his wand! It was the most important part of a magician's attire and, at the end of the ceremony, he would be required to use it. Surely he must have felt undressed without it. As if he had read Jonderill's thoughts, Animus touched his hand to the place where the wand should have been; startled with surprise and looked anxiously around the crowd as if expecting to see it in someone’s hand.

  That was Jonderill's cue. With whispered apologies to those around him he pushed his way to the side of the throne room, easing people aside and squeezing through gaps that were really too small for him to get through. As he stood on yet another set of toes, receiving a hiss of disapproval, he was glad to be wearing his house slippers instead of his boots after all. Not that anyone would retaliate. He might only be an apprentice magician but nobody would dare offend someone who might be able to turn them into a stink toad. Jonderill slipped through a small doorway, getting a brief nod from the man on guard. Once outside there were far fewer people about than normal and within no time he had run to the magicians’ tower, retrieved the wand and his boots, and once again stood outside the throne room, only this time at the door closest to where his masters stood.

  Barrin stood guard outside the throne room door dressed in parade armour, holding his halberd perfectly straight and instantly recognised Jonderill. Being the most promising swordsman to have recently joined the guards, he too had the dubious privilege of being at the morning’s long, tiring sword practice. He’d been Jonderill’s reluctant partner as they repeated the double-handed manoeuvre over and over again. Barrin gave him a quick grin of shared sympathy as he flexed aching shoulders and opened the door wide enough for Jonderill to slide through.

  The throne room looked considerably different from this angle, much brighter as the rows of bunting shimmered in the sunlight and peoples’ beaming faces reflected soft candlelight. He eased forward between two tall veteran guards who instinctively went to draw swords on the unannounced intruder but then smiled knowingly as Jonderill showed them the wand and pointed to Animus. Everyone indulged Animus and his forgetfulness and most of the guards had shared a joke on more than one occasion with Jonderill as he retrieved his master's lost or misplaced belongings from the most unlikely of places.

  Jonderill eased forward, unsure if he should make his presence known by handing Animus his wand or if he should keep well into the shadows, ready to dash forward and hand it to him when it was needed. In the end he decided on a compromise and moved far enough forward so that he was in easy reach of Animus but still out of the limelight. More importantly it gave him an uninterrupted view of the princess as she sat next to her father, less than a dozen paces away.

  He could have feasted his eyes on her beauty all day if it hadn’t been for the loud fanfare from the far end of the hall. That made two knights in full armour move forward to stand either side of the princess blocking his view. With a little annoyance and much curiosity he turned to watch the new procession enter, glad that he was tall enough to see over the top of Animus's bald head.

  Four pages in green and gold livery came first carrying velvet cushions. At first glance the cushions appeared to be empty but as the pages approached sunlight glittered from the priceless jewels resting on top of them. Behind the pages came two men, arm in arm and as different in appearance as it was possible to be. The elder of the two reminded Jonderill of Animus, small, round and with a cheerful smile which at this moment beamed in pure benevolence. If it were not for the richness of his clothes, the silky white hair and the slightly tilted crown on his head he could well have been mistaken for the magician. Jonderill had only seen him once before but guessed who he was by the appearance of Prince Pellum at his side.

  Without a doubt Pellum was amongst the most handsome of young men in the kingdom and he knew it. He was of above average height with a slender, athletic build and his light brown eyes matched his carefully cut and waved hair. His easy smile and brief bows of acknowledgement gave the prince an air of charm and chivalry which disguised his arrogance. Jonderill hated him. He hated him for his gracious manners and sun-bronzed good looks. He hated him for his fine clothes and bejewelled gifts. He hated him for the young women who willingly gave themselves to him but, most of all, he hated him because he was a prince and could have the one thing in life Jonderill wanted most of all but could never have, the Princess Daun.

  Jonderill glared at the approaching prince with his entourage of loyal knights and wished he would trip up and impale himself on his silver sword. More than ever before he wanted to be a magician so he could turn the smirking prince into a bleating goat or a croaking toad or something even worse. Then they would see who the princess would turn to. His jealous thoughts flowed from him like a river and so strongly that they disturbed the sensitive Plantagenet, interrupting his pleasant contemplations.

  The tall magician turned abruptly to give his apprentice a rare look of stern disapproval making Jonderill step back into the shadows feeling guilty and contrite. He’d forgotten how sensitive those with the power could be to his emotions. Plantagenet’s clear look of disapproval made him pull back to where the two veteran guards stood so he could no longer see Daun or Pellum or the betrothal ceremony.

  He was the only one in the entire hall who did draw back though, everyone else turned forward eagerly to witness the betrothal ceremony. Even those suitors who had offered gifts in the hope of being chosen as the princess’s future husband watched with interest, knowing their rejected offers of marriage had nothing to do with unrequited love but more with the importance of making a good strategic alliance.

  Pellum bowed to King Steppen and his wife and then turned all his attentions to the princess. He had to admit she was beautiful and, as heir to the wealthiest of the six kingdoms, her allure was irresistible but for all that, she was still only a child. Pellum kept his charming smile glued to his face and wondered what her body would feel like when he took her for the first time on their wedding night. He was already well experienced whilst she would be a novice and a virgin too.

  Perhaps he should get some more practice in over the next few years just to make sure that the wedding night experience was the best it could be for him. The thought animated his smile and he was glad that his tunic was long enough to cover the growing bulge in his tight breeches. He stood from his kneeling position and placed an emerald and diamond circlet on the princess’s head. It was the first of the four traditional betrothal gifts he had brought for her.

  It seemed to Jonderill, standing miserably in the shadows, that the betrothal ceremony dragged on for an eternity. From where he stood he couldn’t see what was happening but somehow Pellum's voice came through painfully loud and clear. With the circlet he promised to guard her throne and with the pendant, her life. As he placed the golden girdle around her waist he promised to honour and obey her and finally, with the betrothal ring, he promised to love and be true. Jonderill could have cried at the unfairness of it all; even if he became the most powerful magician in the six kingdoms he could never have her now.

  A loud fanfare echoed around the immense hall and the crowd cheered until the ancient stone of its thick walls vibrated with thei
r celebration. Pellum offered the princess his hand and led her from where she sat on the smallest of the three thrones to the front of the dais so all those gathered could see the betrothed couple who would one day be their king and queen. As the cheering ceased and the fanfare faded away musicians high up in the gallery began to play gentle lilting music. Those who had been invited to witness the betrothal left their seats in an orderly line and began to present their gifts to the young couple.

  First came those from the less wealthy families or masters of the smaller guilds from their position at the rear of the throne room followed by those from the older families and the merchant guilds. Finally those from the front rows came forward. They were from the noblest families, the winemasters and the guildmasters from the silver and goldsmith’s guild and ambassadors from other lands. Their gifts were too large to add to the array of brightly wrapped offerings so, instead, they presented beribboned scrolls of land deeds and valuable trading concessions.

  Daun watched with growing excitement and a bright smile of anticipation, she loved presents and couldn’t wait to get her hands on the gifts so she could see what people had brought her. Pellum's gracious smile never faltered although, once, he did have to stifle a yawn of boredom behind his raised hand. King Steppen and his queen acknowledged every gift with a smile of thanks whilst at Steppen's side King Porteous rubbed his hands with glee and looked overjoyed at the size of the pile of gifts. Even the two elderly magicians, who were to present their gifts last, smiled benignly. The only person who looked miserable was Jonderill but his face was hidden from view.

  When all the other gifts had been presented and everyone had returned to their seat Plantagenet stepped forward, his wand in his hand and Animus at his side. The buzz of noise from those gathered ceased and everyone leaned forward waiting to hear what wonderful gift the king's ancient magicians had to offer the betrothed couple. Daun and Pellum looked less excited but King Steppen waved for his magicians to begin. Plantagenet raised his wand and brought his power to focus on the carved wand, yellowed by time. He looked intently from Pellum to Daun and then concentrated on the princess whilst in a clear voice, which belied his age, he began the enchantment.

  To you daughter, of my heart,

  my gift is to remain pure and chaste.

  So whilst you two lovers must be apart,

  on others, your maidenhood, you will not waste.

  A sigh of approval whispered across the throne room whilst Porteous, Steppen and Althea nodded approvingly. Pellum looked at his bride-to-be with a smugly satisfied smile which was not returned. Only Animus looked confused and tugged urgently at the sleeve of his friend’s robe; this was definitely not the gift they had planned to give. Plantagenet was undeterred though; he cleared his throat and waved his wand again turning his attention to Pellum.

  To you, the princess's husband to be,

  from this day forth until you are wed.

  You may kiss and hold any woman you see,

  but not one will you take into your bed.

  The slight snigger and titter of laughter which followed as a result of the magician’s gift was barely louder than the previous whisper of approval but had a considerable impact on those who occupied the royal dais. Steppen and Althea looked extremely pleased, whilst their friend flushed red and felt acutely embarrassed. Standing at the front of the dais in full public view Daun smiled sweetly at her betrothed, a look of pure innocence on her beautiful face which did little to disguise the look of satisfaction in her eyes.

  Pellum's charming smile was fixed but if he could have reached the scrawny neck of the senile old man in front of him, he would have throttled the last breath from his imbecilic body. Animus looked up at his lifelong friend and companion, catching just an edge of Jonderill's feelings and understood why the tall magician had changed their planned enchantment. With a mischievous grin, which beamed across his face, he bowed deeply and took a step forward to add his own benediction, hesitating as he reached for his wand.

  Jonderill stepped forward to pass it to him but before Animus could take it there was a commotion at the far end of the throne room where the massive silver-bound doors had closed behind the two processions. With a loud crash and a brilliant flash of light the doors flew open and smashed against the plastered walls. White smoke billowed through the opening but instead of dissipating in the height of the throne room, it swirled into a spiral where it coalesced into darkness.

  From out of the darkness stepped a tall figure, his head shrouded in a deep hood and his body robed in black. Four knights rushed forward to intercept him with their swords drawn. Before they reached the dark figure they were thrown violently back against the walls by a single movement of the pale hands which were the only part of the man which was visible until he threw back the dark cowl to reveal his gaunt features.

  "Maladran!" cried Plantagenet and Animus almost as one, turning to face the new arrival.

  Maladran moved slowly towards the raised thrones, his black cloak sweeping out behind him and his dark eyes set on the king. Steppen stood and walked to the edge of the dais whilst all his guests pulled back as far as they could from the black robe. The only other movement in the room was made by Jonderill who eased forward to get a better view of the magician he hadn’t seen in years.

  "What do you want here, Maladran?" asked Steppen sternly.

  "It's quite a gathering you have here, Your Majesty," replied Maladran calmly. "Kings, nobility, foreign emissaries and antiquities." He looked at Steppen's two magicians and gave a brief but ironic bow. "My master felt very aggrieved when he wasn’t invited to attend this celebration and sent me to find out the reason why."

  "It wasn’t appropriate to invite your master or you for that matter, to the happy occasion of my daughter's betrothal."

  "That was a very unfortunate decision, Your Majesty. My master had thought it was an oversight and not a pathetic attempt to insult him. He’ll be most upset when I tell him he wasn’t wanted here; particularly as he has sent me with a gift for the beautiful princess I promised him he would have for his bride."

  “You have no right to promise my daughter as his bride and we want none of Sarrat’s gifts.”

  "A gift?" said Daun, undaunted by the magician's sudden appearance or her father’s outburst. She stepped forward away from Pellum's side.

  "What sort of gift?" demanded Plantagenet, moving in front of the princess as if to protect her.

  Animus hurried after him, his usual smile replaced by a worried frown. “You’ve heard the king, we don't want any of your gifts here, Maladran. Why don't you just leave and go back to your tower."

  "That is most inhospitable of you," snapped Maladran in irritation. "Inhospitable and unwarranted."

  He stepped forward again, pushing the two elderly magicians roughly out of the way and looking the princess in the eye. Daun didn’t move, held immobile by the magician's black orbs. No one else moved either except for Pellum, who scuttled backwards to stand behind his father.

  "Now listen to me, princess, for your life lies in my hands and if you should try to escape your fate I will see to it that your death will be that much sooner and that much more unpleasant than my master has decreed." Maladran hesitated for a moment as he gathered his power into the void and then released it to bind his spell. "Before the sun has set on your sixteenth birthday, the day of your wedding, you will fall beneath the hooves of a silver horse and die."

  "No!" cried Althea, collapsing into her husband's arms.

  "Seize that man!" ordered Steppen.

  In an instant the throne room was in uproar. Knights in full armour drew their swords and rushed forward from the aisles whilst guards, who had been discreetly placed at doorways and behind the throne, ran to surround the magician with their tall pikes and halberds.

  "Fools!" cried Maladran. “Do you think you could ever take me?" He spun around to face his attackers, raised his hands in the air and brought them together with a crash of blinding light. Immedi
ately flames erupted in a circle around him and those who had rushed in closest to seize the magician were instantly consumed by fire. They collapsed to the ground as twisted, blackened husks before they even had a chance to scream. Those who had hurried to assist in the capture but were furthest away had their clothes and hair set on fire and exposed flesh blistered with the heat.

  Other guards ran to their comrades’ aid, stamping out the flames or smothering them with their own bodies. Guests of breeding and good manners forgot all about decorum and fled to the exits, trampling underfoot any who were unfortunate enough to fall. On the dais Steppen comforted his wife and daughter whilst the two magicians huddled together sharing low whispers. Of Maladran, there was no sign.

  *

  Jonderill hadn’t been inside the royal apartments before and in all his life had never seen such luxury and delicate beauty, a reflection of Queen Althea’s taste and the kingdom’s wealth. Somewhat awed by the surroundings and the exalted company he was now in, he stood in the corner with his goblet of mulled wine untouched and tried to come to terms with the spell casting he had just witnessed. In all the confusion he was the only one who had seen Maladran leave, surrounded by a dark spiral of smoke which was almost identical to the way in which he had arrived.

  He wasn’t sure how he felt about seeing Maladran again except that he was shocked to see how much the magician changed. His memories of Maladran were of someone with angular features which were often softened by his smile but in the throne room he had seemed much more gaunt and grim than Jonderill remembered and there was a look of malignance in the dark eyes that he was certain hadn’t been there before.

  Now he had time to think about what had taken place in the throne room he wondered what had happened to the magician to change him so much. Only once before had Jonderill heard of him using a death spell and never against someone as innocent as the princess. Then there was him using elemental fire as a weapon which went against every magician's code of ethics, or so he had been taught. Jonderill gave a loud sigh; had Maladran really changed that much or had he only imagined that the magician had feelings all along?