The White Robe

by Clare Smith

  Being careful not to make a sound which might wake the beast or bring the servants, she crept along the silent passageway until she reached the single door at its end. The door, made of black ebon wood, was taller than any other she had seen in other parts of the lodge and was intricately carved with the likeness of the stone monsters and raptors which had guarded the prison’s walls. Had it been her fist night in the lodge she wouldn’t have dared to touch the door, but since the stone monsters had gone and the raptors had flown away, she didn’t think that their carved images in the wooden door would hurt her.

  Tarraquin reached out and touched the door, pushing gently on one side and smiled to herself in satisfaction as the door slowly opened. She had expected the door to lead to another corridor with rooms leading off it, but instead, there was one huge room with a vaulted ceiling and supporting pillars. It reminded her of the throne room in Leersland’s fortress, only about a quarter of the size. From the centre of the vaulted ceiling hung the strangest lamp she had ever seen. There didn’t seem to be anything alight inside of it, yet its many faces sent a gentle glow across the chamber giving just enough light to see by, but still keeping most of the room in shadow.

  One half of the room resembled a normal sleeping room with a large bed in one corner, draped with heavy curtains. There was the usual dresser that men had in their rooms, but little else. She wandered over to the dresser and gently fingered the silver backed brushes and combs. Long grey hair was caught between the bristles, but otherwise, they could have belonged to any wealthy young man.

  Like the other rooms in the lodge, the one thing which was missing was a mirror. On the other side of the chamber there was a row of thin objects covered in blankets leaning against the wall and as she walked towards them the light from the central lamp reflected off a corner of one where the blanket had come untied. If nothing else came of her exploration, she had at least solved the mystery of the missing mirrors, although why they were all here and covered up was still a puzzle.

  Curiously there were no windows in the room and only the one chair, a large mound of a thing big enough to take the twisted form of the beast and covered in torn brown leather with horsehair stuffing poking out of the rips. In front of it stood a three legged table and on the table stood a delicate tree, two hands high and made of bronze and silver. Five tiny, silver leaves hung from its delicate branches and on the table, at the foot of the tree, lay a scatter of fallen leaves. At one time they must have hung from the tree but they were now curled and tipped with bronze.

  They looked so delicate that she thought the slightest breath would have turned them to dust. She moved closer to study the strange creation, fascinated by its delicacy and the way that the light made it look almost alive. Tarraquin reached out to touch one of the silver leaves which still hung from the bronze tree but stopped, as from behind her, a terrifying scream of anger froze her in place.

  “How dare you come here! You told no, this place mine, it forbidden to you!” The beast bounded across the room throwing himself between her and the tree and knocking her to the floor. It stood over her with its fangs bared and its eyes as red as a demon’s. “I say no come, this place for me only.”

  “Why?” she cried, tears of fright and hurt filling her eyes. “I only came in here because I wanted to help you.”

  “This enchanted place, you go now!”

  She shuffled backwards away from his menacing presence, scrambled to her feet and ran from the room. The beast stared after her, its breath coming in ragged gasps as the deep rumbling growl slowly subsided. When his breathing had returned to normal and his vision was no longer distorted by anger he climbed onto the ragged chair and stared at the bronze tree as one tiny, silver leaf fell to the ground.

  When the sun rose over the walls and filled the rooms with bright morning light, the beast had still not appeared, making breakfast without his company a dreary affair. Tarraquin toyed with the small loaf of bread on her plate, pushing it from one side to the other, or nibbling an edge and spreading crumbs around her. When she had finished picking at her bread, she took some cheese and then spent half a candle length cutting it into tiny squares which were hardly bigger than the scattered crumbs of her uneaten loaf. She had not slept well, spending half the night crying and feeling sorry for herself and half the night being angry and feeling badly treated.

  Now she just felt miserable; being a prisoner had been difficult when she had been alone and having the beast for company had become better than nothing. Now she was back to where she had started or even worse; at least then she had expected to be alone, but now she had become used to having him around and doing things to please her. If only he would come out of his room, she could tell him she was sorry and perhaps they could go back to how they had been. That wasn’t going to happen though as Captain Tangier had told her that his master would be remaining in his room for the rest of that day and all his meals would be served there.

  She was bored being on her own and would have liked to have asked the Captain if she could at least speak to the beast, but he had given her such a look of disapproval, when he had delivered the message, that her courage had failed her. Aimlessly she wandered to the window and sat watching the breeze ripple the grass in the small paddock like waves on a river. She thought about the days when she had been a queen and berated herself for giving them up so easily. So engrossed was she in her own thoughts that she didn’t hear the servants enter the room and clean up the scattered remains of her breakfast, or later, when Captain Tangier entered the room.

  When he spoke she jumped in surprise. “I’m sorry to startle you, My Lady but there’s a man at the gate who says he has a message for you. He claims that he comes with the permission of the evil sorcerer who laid this spell on my master and this place, and as nothing has tried to prevent his approach, I must believe what he says is true. If you wish to hear what he has to say and speak to him, my master has given you permission to do so, as long as I’m present.”

  The thought of being able to speak to someone from outside her prison, especially if it was someone she knew from her previous existence, made her smile in anticipation. She jumped up so quickly that she knocked her chair over behind her. “Yes, Captain, I would like to speak with him. Who is it? Did he give a name? Is it Jarrul returned to take my place?”

  “My Lady, he says his name is Captain Malingar.”

  She frowned in puzzlement; of all the people she might have expected, the captain was not one of them. “May I speak to the captain in here or must I talk to him through the bars of the gate?”

  “If he has the sorcerer’s permission then he may enter but my master won’t permit him to come into the lodge. However, if you wish, you may use my quarters.”

  “Thank you, captain that is kind of you.”

  He bowed briefly and offered his arm, leading her out of the lodge and across to the low building at the end of the barracks close to the gate. There was a strong temptation for her to snatch a quick glance at the gate, just to make sure Malingar was there and this wasn’t a trick, but the captain might think she didn’t trust him. As he was now the closest thing she had to a friend in this place, she resisted the temptation, and kept her eyes steadily in front of her.

  Captain Tangier’s room wasn’t at all what she was expecting; he always seemed so neat and tidy and yet his room was a jumble of discarded clothing, odds and ends of leather and scattered boots, weapons and papers. It occurred to her that what he needed was a wife, but as the only women who had been imprisoned here were herself, the two old cooks and a couple of elderly servants, she supposed that wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

  She cleared the jumble off a couple of chairs and waited anxiously for him to return. When he did, Captain Malingar followed behind him looking travel weary and strained. He gave Tarraquin the smile he kept just for her and bowed deeply. “My lady, it’s good to see you looking so well. From Master Jarrul’s reports, I expected to find you being held prisoner i
n a cage and in a poor condition. Clearly your captor holds you in higher regard than he did Master Jarrul.”

  Tarraquin held out her hand for the captain to kiss. “Captain Malingar it’s a pleasure to see you again and to learn that Jarrul made it back to Tarmin safely.”

  “Whilst I’m glad to see you, My Lady, I regret that I’m the bearer of bad news. It’s about Master Jarrul that I’ve come and have begged to be allowed to see you. Your friend had a most difficult journey from this place to Tarmin, in the worse of weather conditions. By the time he reached the city he was weak and seriously ill, and hasn’t left his bed since. He’s been calling for you, but the healers fear for his life and say that if you don’t go to him soon, then you’ll not see your friend again in this world. If he dies, the sacrifice you have made for him will be for nought.”

  Tarraquin sat heavily on the emptied chair and looked stunned. “There are other matters as well, My Lady. In your absence, Great Lord Andron has demanded his right to claim the throne and if the council don’t allow him his rights then he’ll bring an army to Tarmin and will take the throne by force. It would seem that the laws of the six kingdoms would support his claim. It’s written that if a monarch leaves their kingdom and there is no prospect of their returning, then the next in line of succession may claim the throne.”

  Tarraquin looked desperate. “I cannot leave; I gave my word to the beast that I would remain here if he would release Master Jarrul.”

  “You must, My Lady. If you don’t, everything you’ve worked for will be undone; Jarrul will die alone, Andron will rule as Sarrat did, and your people will suffer.”

  “Captain Malingar,” interrupted Tangier, stepping in between them. “I cannot stand by and let you cause this lady any more distress or to speak words of encouragement which would make the Lady Tarraquin betray the oath she has given to my master. I must ask you to leave this place now.” He put his hand on his sword hilt and stepped forward making his position clear.

  “I’m sorry, My Lady. It seems that I must go now, but I will wait until dawn tomorrow before I return to Tarmin, so that you may consider the news that I’ve brought and decide to do what’s right.”

  Malingar bowed once more and Tangier escorted him out of his rooms leaving Tarraquin with her confused thoughts. Jarrul was her best friend and she owed him her life. They had been through so much together and she couldn’t bear the thought of him dying alone without her being able to see him one last time, to say goodbye. Then there was the throne of Leersland which had once been her father’s. He had been a just king and much loved by his people. How could she dishonour his memory and hand the throne to Andron, a man in the same mould as Sarrat who thought of nothing but himself. How could she balance that against her own honour and the oath she had given to the beast? By the time Tangier returned, she had reached her decision.

  “I’m sorry, My Lady. Had I known that your visitor was going to cause you such distress, I wouldn’t have carried his request to speak to you or my master.”

  “No, you were right to do what you did. Now I must ask you to do one more thing for me which you’ll find most difficult. I need to talk with your master, today, before the sun sets. Would you ask him to meet with me please?”

  Tangier frowned, guessing what it was she wanted to ask the beast. “Please don’t ask this of my master. He hasn’t always been as good and as honourable as he should have been but since you’ve been here he has tried so hard to change. If you go, I fear for his life.”

  Tarraquin sadly shook her head. “I must. I wish to return to my room now where I’ll wait to learn if your master will talk with me.”

  The captain bowed briefly and once again offered her his arm to escort her back to the lodge. He watched her climbing the stairs and wished he was better with words. She knew he was watching her, silently begging her to change her mind, but she didn’t turn. Instead she continued to her room and sat by the small window and watched the sun move slowly across the sky. When the sun at last dropped behind the high walls there was a brief tap at her door. Tarraquin stood hoping that it would be the beast, but instead, Captain Tangier let himself in carrying a long cloak lined with fur and a small silver box.

  “Lady, I have told my master that you wish to see him. He declined your request so I told him what Captain Malingar had to say to you. My master releases you from your oath and gives you leave to return to your own lands. He asks you to take this cape, which was his mother’s, as it will keep you warm and safe on your journey. Also this gift for when times are dark, so that you’ll remember him and know that even in the darkest of times, there are those who would bring you the light of hope.”

  Tangier handed her the small silver box and draped the cloak around her shoulders. “There’s a horse saddled and provisioned waiting at the gates. I regret that I cannot offer you an escort, but the fires of the captain’s camp are clear to see so you should be safe over that short distance.”

  He gave her his arm and walked her to her horse where he helped her to mount. “I’m truly sorry that you are leaving, My Lady. If things do not work out as you would hope and you wish to return to this place, please remember that those imprisoned here, will always welcome you back.”

  The gates opened of their own accord and Tarraquin rode slowly through and disappeared into the darkness. Above the courtyard, in the room which she had just vacated, the beast stood at the window and looked down at the closing gates. For a short while, there had been hope, but now, there was nothing, only to wait until the last silver leaf fell. In despair he curled up on the floor and wept.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Return of the Queen

  Tarraquin was desperately tired, but at least now she recognised where they were. It lifted her spirits and gave her some hope that they might be in time to reach Jarrul before death took him. When she had left the hunting lodge and arrived at Malingar’s camp, she had been pleased to find that Killian was amongst them, having never given up hope that she would return. She found it strangely comforting having a familiar face amongst so many men that she didn’t know.

  When she insisted that they packed the camp up and left that very night, the Captain and his troops had not been eager to move but, with Killian’s support, they had eventually obeyed her commands, and since then she had been urging them to more and more haste. Despite that, the journey had been painfully slow and there had been many delays for the most trivial of things. Horses had gone lame, men had the flux and Malingar developed a dislike of rising early in the morning and travelling after sunset. The latest delay had been caused by the Captain insisting that scouts were sent out to check that the final approach to Tarmin was clear in case Andron’s army were camped outside the city.

  She sat in the shade of an everleaf tapping her fingers impatiently on her knee and glaring at Malingar. They had already argued once about the need for caution or hast,e and she was rehearsing her arguments when the scout trotted into the clearing and announced that everything was ready. It seemed an odd thing to say to her, but as the troop suddenly seemed eager to leave, she let the matter drop. As soon as they were all mounted, they set off at a faster pace than at any time during their journey, and within half a candle length, they had cleared the forest edge and begun climbing the final rise before dropping down into Tarmin.

  They had barely ridden half way up the rise before a large group of riders crested the top, making Tarraquin turn to Malingar to see if he was alarmed by their sudden appearance, but he seemed relaxed enough. He sat on his horse with a satisfied smile, almost as if he had been expecting them. As the riders came closer she recognised Squad Leader Tordray and several others from Malingar’s mercenary group, but frowned as she realised they were not dressed in mercenary black or even in her own colours, but in a uniform she didn’t recognise.

  She instantly knew there was something wrong and turned to Malingar in alarm but he only smiled and moved his horse closer to hers. “There’s nothing
to be concerned about, My Lady. It’s just an escort to ensure your safe arrival into Tarmin. Just do as they say and there won’t be a problem.”

  Tordray rode out in front of his troop to greet her and bowed briefly from his saddle. “It’s good to see you, My Lady, welcome back to Tarmin. It would give me great pleasure if you would be kind enough to ride at my side until we enter the fortress.”

  Without waiting for her to respond he pulled his horse around close to hers giving her a pleasant smile. Malingar too pulled his horse close up to hers on the other side and the troop of horsemen closed around them. The concern she had felt when the troop had first appeared over the rise increased as the closeness of so many armed men made her feel more like a prisoner than a returning queen. She looked back to see if she could catch the attention of Killian so that he might ride close beside her, but his empty horse was being led by one of Tordray’s men. With increasing alarm she went to ask Tordray where Killian had gone, but the troop picked up speed and as it crested the hill she could see Tarmin spread out before her.