The Grey Robe

by Clare Smith

  "Do you think she will remember me?"

  "Of course," reassured Porteous. "Children never forget their parents and daughters are always closest to their fathers." He looked at Steppen’s worried and lined face and wondered if he had said the right thing.

  “I have been thinking” continued Steppen. “When this is over and our children are married I intend to abdicate and let them rule Vinmore. I have my heart set on a small hunting lodge in southern Tarbis, close enough to the sea so that I could have a sailing boat and escape every time someone came to visit me. You would be the exception, of course. In fact if you wanted to you could abdicate too in favour of Prince Vorgret and then you could join me. Just think of the fun we could have being free of all this.”

  Porteous looked at him in amazement; he’d never thought of retiring but the idea was attractive and Vorgret would be more than happy to be king of Essenland. He went to respond but before he could say anything a horse thundered through the gates below in a cloud of dust. A commotion of shouted orders and running feet interrupted the peace of the evening. He leaned over the balcony knowing there could be only one person who would make that sort of an entrance and undoubtedly bring trouble with it. Porteous sometimes wished he’d had daughters instead of sons.

  "If you will excuse me, Steppen, I do believe my son has arrived and I really do need to be with him as he prepares for tonight's ceremony. It's the first time he's done this you know."

  Porteous laughed but with little humour as Steppen abstractly waved him away. It might be the first time his son had married but it wasn't the first time he’d taken a girl or for that matter sired a child. Thank goodness Plantagenet’s enchantment had done something to control his son's lustful behaviour over the last four summers otherwise there would be more royal bastards than loyal subjects.

  Still, there was one consolation. If the rumours about who had sired her were false and Daun had inherited her father's impotence, there would be no problems with providing heirs for Vinmore; his son could provide any number of children out of wedlock. Porteous smiled to himself as he waddled down the tower stairs to the courtyard below; there could be no doubting his son was a real man. With this thought still in his mind he stepped out into the sunlit courtyard and the confusion and chaos which always seemed to accompany the boy.

  In one corner of the courtyard a troop of nervous looking guards surrounded the grey and black stallion he had forbidden his son to bring into Vinmore, hopefully keeping it out of Steppen’s sight. In the other corner, standing in a huddle, were a number of pages and squires holding an assortment of clothes, boots, weapons and refreshments, including a flagon of wine. Porteous hurried by, stopping only to pick up a goblet of wine which a page held out to him and then carried on to the central fountain where his son stood in a state of undress, with water cascading over his brown hair and muscular body. Porteous spluttered a combination of embarrassment and anger.

  "You're late! Where have you been and what are you doing in that fountain with no clothes on and didn't I tell you not to bring that horse here?"

  "Father! One question at a time please," laughed Pellum, stepping from the fountain and running his hands through his wet hair. "Now what was it you wanted, it's getting late you know."

  "I know, boy. Now hurry up and change into something suitable, you can’t meet your future wife looking like that you know.

  Pellum gave his father a broad grin and took a large towel from a hovering page. "Quite right, father, I can't but as I have other things to do tonight my future bride will have to wait."

  "Wait! What do you mean wait? You've waited four summers to see your bride again and now you have other things to do? What can be more important than meeting the woman you will spend the rest of your life with?"

  Pellum dropped the towel on the dusty ground and pulled on clean leggings and soft knee-high boots before again looking down at his father.

  "How about meeting the woman I would like to spend the rest of my life with?" He pulled a black silk shirt over his head and settled the edge of the billowing sleeves over the deep, elaborately embroidered cuffs, which a servant had fastened for him. "She is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen and tonight, when this stupid enchantment has been lifted from me, she's going to be mine."

  "You can't do this to me, it's all arranged, the wedding ceremony and everything. What am I going to say to Steppen and what am I going to tell the Princess?"

  "Tell them I've gone to the woodsman's cottage to make a girl into a woman and I will be back when my duty is done."

  Pellum fastened his sword belt and then took the goblet of wine from his father just before the rotund king started leaping up and down in protest.

  "On my life I will not stand for this. You're a prince and for once you are going to act like one."

  "That's just what I'm doing father. You're always telling me I should do more for the common people, so that is what I’m going to do. I shall go and do a lot more for this peasant girl and then I will come back in the morning and do the same for the Princess." He emptied the goblet and pushed it back into his father's hand. "Now I really must go."

  He patted his father affectionately on the head as if he were a favourite pet and called to his horse. Sansun pushed passed the guards as if they didn’t exist and before the king could say another word Pellum was mounted and cantering out of the gate.

  "Goodbye father," he called over his shoulder. "I'll see you later." "Much later," he muttered to himself.

  *

  The dark shadow continued to hover around the woodsman's cottage for a few moments longer, becoming darker and lighter in pulsating beats. Its form changed, becoming more ragged around the edges as tendrils of darkness crept beneath the cottage door and into the upper windows. Then in an instant it was gone, like a hunting dog called back to its master, leaving behind a sunlight which was not quite as bright as before and a warmth sullied by a chill breeze. The dark shadow moved between the trees of the silent forest, lost amongst the shade cast by dappled sunlight.

  Where it passed the great boles of weiswald trees they shuddered and leaves fell with a whisper of protest to the forest floor, as if they had been touched by a bitter frost. At the edge of the Blue River the shadow faltered, moved fractionally along the bank as if it sought a safe passage and then darted across, unable to resist its summons home. Fields passed by and crops withered, cows became dry and foals were stillborn. The shadow moved eastwards passed Tarmin onto the isolated tower on its barren outcrop.

  Maladran held his trance as he called the shadow back into the cooling heart resting in his outstretched hands. Its return sent a jolt of pain through him like a knife being thrust into his own chest. His eyes snapped open to stare directly into those of his victim, blank and glassy and the heart began to pulsate again in his hand. Words of necromancy framed in his mind and issued from his lips as if they were someone else's and not his own. With care, as if he were handling a new born life, he placed the heart in the cavity made in his prisoner's chest, obscenely cradled by the splayed ribs. The man groaned in agony and the body twitched with returning life.

  "Show me what your eyes have seen," demanded Maladran.

  The body which was once Garrin jerked in its chains and words formed on bloodless lips silently begging for the release of the other prisoner.

  "Your sight first," insisted Maladran.

  The woman in chains moaned in protest but Garrin acquiesced. Maladran took his knife and cut out his prisoner's eye, ignoring his screams and the blood which ran across his hands. He held the orb close to his heart and closed his eyes. Before him a golden-haired girl sat on the edge of a bed, gently crying, while the two old men who guarded her loaded their belongings into a small pony trap preparing for a journey. Maladran’s frown deepened as he considered why the girl should be crying. If she were returning home she should have been happy, unless there was something he couldn’t see.

  He took his knife a second time and without askin
g permission prised his prisoner’s other eye from its socket. This time when he held the eye he saw a young man on a silver horse entering the forest along the pathway which would lead to the woodsman’s cottage. He gave a sly grin. Now he understood the girl’s tears. He opened his eyes again and looked supremely satisfied with himself.

  "So the princess returns to be wed does she whilst her prince seeks his true love in the forest, eager to give her love's first kiss? But we cannot allow that to happen can we?"

  The sorcerer walked thoughtfully across the small chamber and dropped the eyes carelessly into a brazier, undisturbed by the spitting the orbs created as they were incinerated or the hideous scream of their previous owner.

  "Maladran," Garrin's voice echoed in his mind. "Your bargain, my wife's release in return for the use of my spirit."

  Maladran gave a harsh inhuman laugh. "I haven't finished with your spirit yet."

  "Your bargain," insisted the living corpse.

  "Very well, promise me one more service and I will release her here and now."

  "You will have just the one more service from me," agreed Garrin.

  Maladran nodded in acceptance, drew his serrated edged knife and sliced cleanly through the woman's throat.

  *

  The small door at the rear of the magicians’ tower in the palace of Vinmore opened easily despite not having been used for so long. Plantagenet’s warding had kept everyone and everything at bay so that now, on their return, their home was almost the same as when they had left it. There was evidence of Jonderill's brief visit, some scattered powders and a mixing bowl lying unattended on the table. A single cobweb stretched from the table to a chair, the work of a solitary spider which must have gained access at the same time as their apprentice. As for dust and dirt and the usual signs of decay which occur when rooms remain empty for a long time, they were happily missing. Even a bunch of blue cornflowers which Jonderill had picked on the morning of the princess's betrothal remained brilliant blue and unfaded.

  Unfortunately the journey from the forest cottage to their tower had not been the joyous affair the two magicians had imagined when they had talked about their return to the city that morning. Although the cart, pulled by the same piebald pony which had carried them away from the palace, travelled at a jaunty pace and the setting sun shone on the turreted palace, making the honey-coloured stone sparkle, they were quiet and subdued. Animus had started out chatting excitedly about the things he would do when he finally returned home but for all his outlandish suggestions and Plantagenet’s occasional dry witticisms, Rosera never once spoke or smiled.

  Now she stood forlornly in the guest room whilst Animus pulled the long drapes closed and Plantagenet carefully took the fur cloak from around her shoulders. Gently he moved her forward towards the Weiswald table with its mirror of bronze and eased her into the seat. He gave Animus a despairing look but the fat magician just shrugged, unable to think of anything to say which would help the situation.

  "My dear," said Plantagenet kindly. "We have a gift for you which we would like you to wear when you return to your father's court and perhaps at your wedding if you would so honour us."

  He opened a polished wooden box, which Animus held out for him, and withdrew a white gold circlet studded with sea sapphires which matched the colour of her eyes. Plantagenet placed it on the Princess's head where the gems caught the candle light and reflected it back in aquamarine shafts of light. The magicians looked pleased with themselves but Rosera continued to stare blankly at the bronze mirror on the table, a tear silently falling from her eye.

  "I'm sorry, my child. If there were any other way of fulfilling your destiny without keeping your betrothal promise we would take it but you are a princess and you have your duty, the same as we have ours."

  Animus tugged at Plantagenet’s sleeve and started to pull him back towards the door. "Let's give her a little time to be by herself, she might feel better then.

  "Do you think that is wise?"

  "Of course it is, the sun is almost set and nothing can happen to her here, the tower is double-warded. Anyone who tries to enter will regret it for a very long time and that goes for Maladran too."

  "We will be outside if you need us, dear," called Plantagenet as Animus pushed him through the doorway. He turned to give the princess a last look but she hadn’t moved.

  "Poor child," said Animus, quietly closing the door behind him and standing with his hands on his hips. "It's not right, you know, having to do something you don't want to do just because you're a princess."

  "But it's her duty," said Plantagenet without conviction.

  "Duty be damned, she's a girl in love."

  "But what can we do about it?"

  "We can tell the king, that's what we can do. When he sees how unhappy his daughter is I'm sure he won't make her marry a man she doesn't like." He grabbed hold of Plantagenet’s sleeve and pulled him forward down the long spiralling stairs. "Come on before it's too late."

  Plantagenet followed behind, reluctant to leave the princess on her own but equally reluctant to see her wed to a man she didn’t love. He was still scowling and deep in thought when he removed the warding around the rear door and Animus opened it. The setting sun cast a golden light over the courtyard, reflecting brightly off the soft hued stone but the open doorway was cloaked in darkness. It sent a chill of horror through both magicians and froze them to the spot before it suddenly swirled passed them, spiralling upwards through the tower towards its goal.

  Rosera had heard the magicians close the door behind them and was grateful to be left alone with her own thoughts. Everything had happened so fast that she’d had no time to think things through or come to terms with what she was. Yesterday she would have been excited at the prospect of being a princess and living in a palace instead of a woodsman's cottage but today all she wanted was her simple home and the man she had met.

  She took the circlet of gold and sapphires from her hair and studied it carefully. It was an object of real beauty but to her it might as well have been iron manacles, for both her marriage and the gift would bind her against her will. Rosera turned the circlet in her hands watching the light reflect from the brightly coloured gems and it occurred to her that its value would keep a woodsman and his family for half a lifetime.

  For a moment she hesitated, considering whether it was right to deny her duty and still take the gift which was meant for a princess. She closed her eyes and shuddered with a sudden chill but when she opened them again her mind was made up. Carefully she put the circlet safely back in its box, put her fur cloak around her shoulders and left the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

  The spiralling stairway led upwards or downwards and whilst downwards would have been the most logical way to go, Animus and Plantagenet had only just passed that way. Apart from anything else the way seemed dark and shadowy whilst golden sunlight still lit the stairs above. Clutching the box tightly, Rosera started upwards, following the spiral stairs as they wound their way around the inside of the tower.

  Once she stopped, certain she could hear someone call her name but when she turned back and looked down the stairs they were deserted and even darker than she remembered. The darkness made her shiver and she had a sudden overwhelming need to be in the open and feel the sun on her face. She hurried onwards, reaching a door which surely must have opened into the topmost room but the stairs continued to climb, narrowing until they were only just wide enough for her to pass.

  The stairs stopped before a low arch and Rosera stepped beneath it into the strangest room she had ever seen. The walls were of ancient stone, pitted with age and blackened as if they had been in a great fire. At head height the stones disappeared and dark timbers covered in bronze leaned inwards to form a high conical spire far above her head. The room had no windows and only the smallest amount of sunlight penetrated the cracks between the conical roof and the stone walls. Despite this the room was light enough for Rosera to see its contents and t
o know she had discovered some long forgotten treasure.

  Chests of gold coins lay open around the wall and leather bags, untouched by age, spilled over with every kind of precious stone. Strange carvings in ivory and ebony leaned against the walls but everything faded into shadow as her eyes fell on the statuettes in bronze, silver and gold. Mesmerised by their beauty, she walked in a dream towards the mound of finely cast sky flyers and other animals, which were piled one on top of the other, reaching up beyond the lip of the stone wall. The top most statuette was propped up against the leaning timbers of the conical roof. It was a creation of rare beauty, made of burnished silver which outshone any other metal or gemstone, its fine, intricate detail making the creature appear alive. The statuette was just beyond her reach but the need to hold it and feel its smooth metal skin was overwhelming.

  Rosera balanced herself on two bags of gems and stretched upwards towards the statuette until her finger tips touched its gleaming surface but her last straining effort was too much for her precarious position and the bags of gemstones slipped beneath her. With a small cry she fell to the floor with the silver horse tumbling after her.

  *

  "Maladran!" Animus and Plantagenet cried out together and without bothering to close the tower door after them they ran up the stairs, calling as loudly as their breathlessness would allow for Rosera to stay where she was. Plantagenet reached the guest room first and flung the door open, already certain that Rosera wouldn’t be there. He took one quick look and closed the door after him just as Animus reached the top step, bright red and puffing loudly.

  Plantagenet didn’t waste his breath on words but continued upwards, two steps at a time, until they reached their end at the entrance to Jonderill's room. Cautiously the magician entered, unsure of what magic would be present to entrap them but the room was deserted without the slightest sign of magic ever having been used there. Plantagenet left the small, cold room deep in thought and waited for Animus to join him, still puffing and blowing loudly.