by Jack Whyte
I heard the words, but they went winging over my head like passing geese, observed but insignificant, their meaning lacking any import to me. And then I heard them again, this time in my mind. He is to be your teacher. I was aware of the King’s watching me closely, and I shifted nervously in my chair, wriggling in discomfort as though I could avoid the awareness that was growing in me. He is to be your teacher.
“Wha—What do you mean, Father?”
“Simply what I said. Germanus will be your teacher from now on. When he returns to his home in Auxerre, you will go with him.”
“But … but this is where I live.”
“Aye, for now, and perhaps some time again in the future, but for the next few years you will be living and studying with Germanus. The years between ten and sixteen are the most important of your life, and Germanus is the finest teacher you could have in living them.”
“But he’s a bishop … a holy man … .”
“Aye, he is, but he is also a famed and powerful lawyer and a victorious and unconquered battle commander—a soldier’s soldier. He has always been a teacher, too, no matter what his calling was at any time, and that has not changed. In fact it is more true than ever. Since he became a bishop, Germanus has established a school for boys in Auxerre, and he tells me he plans to create many others. You will be one of the first students in that school, and it will be the making of you.”
“I don’t want to go.”
My stepfather shrugged his broad shoulders. “That is unfortunate, Clothar, but you will change your mind once you are there and settled, for you are going, whether you wish it or not. This is not a passing whim of mine. It has always been intended, decided upon many years ago, soon after the death of your parents, when Germanus and I met to talk about your future. We decided then that since I was married and Germanus had no wife to care for you, you would spend your childhood here under my protection, living a normal boy’s life among children your own age. Later, when you were grown enough to be aware of who and what you are, your education would pass into the care of Germanus, who would be responsible for teaching you all the things you would need to know—the things I could never teach you, since they are unknown to me: logic and debate; Latin and other languages; history, both civil and military; theology and the study of religion, and a whole host of other things I could not even begin to guess at. But you’ll also continue your existing studies there, your riding and military training, weapons craft and warfare, strategy and tactics. Bear in mind, Germanus was a legate; you could have no finer teacher in such things.
“When you came here to my quarters yesterday, in the afternoon, I was reading a letter. Do you remember that?” I nodded. “Well, that letter was from Germanus and it concerned this very matter. That is the real reason for his visit.”
I knew, listening to the finality in his tone, that there was no hope of a reprieve from this decree, and my initial reaction was one of sadness at the thought of leaving this place that had been my home for most of my life—for all of it that I could remember. But I found, to my surprise, that I was not nearly as dejected as I might have expected to be as recently as the previous day, because I had learned this night from King Ban that I was the son of a heroic warrior called Childebertus, who had been befriended by a king and by an imperial legate, and that the same legate would now become my teacher, merely because I was the orphan son of his friend. There was a promise of adventure there, and of fulfillment. Besides, I had always known that at some point I would have to leave home to continue my military training, earning my manhood in the service of some other leader. All of my older brothers had already done so and were now scattered among the territories of King Ban’s allies. Gunthar had only recently returned home, a fully grown man and warrior, after four years spent in the service of Merovech, another Frankish king far to the northwest.
I suddenly became aware that King Ban was staring at me, obviously waiting for me to say something, and I realized that he must have asked me a question that I had not heard. I felt my face grow red.
“Forgive me, Sire, I didn’t hear what you asked me. I was dreaming.”
“I asked you if there was anything else you wanted to ask me, about all of this.”
I thought about that for a few moments, then shook my head. “No, Sire. I can’t think of anything.”
“Excellent!” He rose to his feet, stretching up onto tiptoe and raising his arms high above his head. “Perhaps now we can get some sleep before the dawn breaks. Come, bed for both of us, for an hour at least.”
II
CHULDERIC
EVEN THOUGH I HAD GONE to sleep filled with excitement and wonder mere hours earlier and had slept right through until midmorning, I awoke feeling angry, confused, and resentful, my mind reeling with half-remembered statements and hazy, maddeningly elusive images of some of the things King Ban had described to me. My old nurse, Ludda, had been waiting for me to wake up—the Lady Vivienne had told her of my late night and of the King’s decision that I should be allowed to sleep late—and as soon as she heard me moving about she brought me a breakfast of ground oats, savory seeds, and crushed nuts, all roasted dry and bound together with honey from the King’s beehives. I was in no mood to eat, however—nor, for that matter, to be courteous or civil—and so I finished dressing and stormed out without acknowledging either her or the food she had prepared for me. I had a momentary twinge of guilt over my ill manners as I ran down the stairs from my quarters, but I thrust it aside easily, consoling myself with the thought that I had every right to be self-concerned today, since no one else appeared to have been truly concerned for me prior to the day before. Had anyone really cared about my welfare, I told myself, they would have told me the truth about myself much earlier and not left me to go blithely on my way, filled with foolish thoughts of belonging here.
By the time I reached the outer yard, having scowled my displeasure at everyone I met between my sleeping chamber and there, I had worked myself into a truly unpleasant frame of mind filled with self-pity, bafflement, hurt feelings, and shapeless, threatening fears—all of them completely without justification. I reached the gates to the outer bastion, but then I broke into a run and swung directly to my left to head toward the stables, although I had no idea what I might do there, and as I reached the dark entryway, I almost ran full tilt into a figure emerging from the darkness. It was Clodio, the strange but loyal man who had been Ban’s lifelong friend and had consistently refused all advancement except his current and permanent post as Commander of the Castle Guard. He reached out and grasped me by the right shoulder, digging his fingers in hard and bringing me up short, almost in midstep.
“Ah, there you are! I’ve been looking for you. Where are you running to, so fast? Is someone chasing you?”
He sounded quite pleasant and not at all put out by our near collision, but I was in no frame of mind to tolerate pleasantness, especially from one of the group who had conspired to keep me in ignorance of my real identity. I pulled myself loose from his grasp and thrust his arm away from me.
“Leave me alone. And stand out of my way.”
Clodio’s head jerked in shock and his eyebrows rose high on his forehead. “Stand out of your way?” His face quirked in what almost became a smile. “Since when did you start ordering your father’s officers around?”
“Since I found out he’s not my father and he has been deceiving me—and you’re no better than he is, because you knew, too. My father was a real king, and you know it, and I’m his son. So stand aside and let me pass.”
I knew that what I had said went beyond insolence and far beyond ingratitude to King Ban, but even as I spoke the words I took a malicious satisfaction in mouthing such things. Clodio, however, merely stood looking at me, his eyes narrowed in concentration, and then, after what seemed like a long time to me, he nodded, once, abruptly.
“I heard you. But are you really sure you want me to step aside?”
“Yes, I—” But he had alread
y held up a warning palm.
“Before you answer, consider this, my young kingling. If I step aside, at your command, it will only be to give myself purchase to swing my boot properly at your kingly little arse as you pass by me, and I’ll kick it so far up toward your shoulders that you’ll be a hunchback for the rest of your life … . Now, I’ll ask you again. Are you sure you want me to step aside?”
There was not a trace of humor in his eyes or in his voice, and so I knew I had to draw his fangs. I pulled myself up to my full height and put all the disdain I could muster into my tone.
“You will stand aside, and you will not dare to lay hands on me. I am the son—the firstborn son—of a king.”
Clodio turned his back on me, his hands on his hips, and slowly completed a full turn, his head tilted back to look at the sky and his feet taking high but tiny steps, almost marching in place but turning very slowly and incrementally until he faced me again, and as he did so I heard him blow air loudly and rhythmically from his lips, in time with his footsteps. As he came back face-to-face with me, however, he grasped my tunic in both hands, on either side of my chest, and hoisted me effortlessly into the air, to where he could stare directly at me, eye to eye, from a distance of less than a handspan, and when he spoke next, even though he spoke very quietly, I felt the flutter of his breath against my face.
“You are the orphaned son of a dead and landless king who was once a fine man and much loved by everyone who knew him. But he is gone now, long since dead, and the lands he ruled are hundreds of miles from here, governed now by the man who killed him and usurped his title and his holdings. You are still a boy—a mere child, ten years old—and you have nothing … no prospects, no wealth, no hopes at all, other than those for which you are beholden to King Ban. Do you hear what I am saying, boy? I knew your father, and I was proud to know him. I knew your mother, too, although no more than by sight, but she was the most beautiful lady I ever saw, more beautiful even than her sister, the Lady Vivienne.” He shook me gently, tilting me from side to side and never taking his eyes off me. “I thought to have known you now, for years, but what I’m hearing spilling from your lips today is unlike anything I would ever have believed you capable of saying.”
He paused, then brought me even closer to his face, so that I could see the individual hairs on his cheeks and the scar at the end of his nose where he had once been bitten in a fight. “Do you know how far your feet are off the ground as I hold you here, Clothar son of Childebertus? I could throw you like a pebble, and leave you lying where you fell. But here is a promise I will make to you freely. If I ever, ever hear you speaking of your uncle Ban like that again, I’ll strip off your breeches and flog you with my belt until you bleed. Is that clear?” He shook me again, a single, violent jerk. “Is it?”
I nodded my head, suddenly overcome with shame and struggling to hold back hot tears. Clodio continued to hold me. “Good,” he said. “Let’s hope I never have to do that. Now, it’s obvious that you’ve only recently found out about what happened to you as a babe in arms, and I suppose that could be seen as grounds for being angry. Before I put you down, however, I have one more thing to tell you. Are you listening?”
I was, but I was also beginning to grow astonished at the ease with which this man was holding me aloft. He showed no sign of strain at all. His breathing was easy and his voice relaxed. “Yes,” I said through the lump in my throat, while nodding for emphasis. “I’m listening.”
“Then listen well. I want to tell you something about your father. His soldiers and his people worshipped him. Do you know why? I do. I know why. Some people might give you a hundred other reasons, and they would all be true, to some extent … . He was tall and strong and good to look upon. He had a pleasant nature and laughed easily. He had a beautiful wife and generous, loving friends. But none of these things explain why he was so much loved. But this one reason that I know, this one thing alone, explains it, and the explanation is very simple, yet very profound: your father treated all people with dignity and truthfulness.
“That may not sound like much to you, at the age of ten, but it is an awe-inspiring thing, almost impossible for ordinary men to achieve. And yet your father lived his entire life behaving that way. He never lied; he never looked down on anyone as being lesser than himself; he never treated anyone badly, unless that person had behaved badly and merited punishment. Your father never had an unkind word or an insult for, or about, anyone who had not earned them. Childebertus of Ganis would never have spoken to me, or to anyone else, the way you did here today. Bear that in mind. If you are going to announce yourself to be your father’s son, then be true to his memory and to his honor. Be worthy of his name.
“Now, I am growing tired, so I am going to put you down, but when I do, you will stand there and wait until I have finished what I have to say to you. Are we agreed?”
I nodded, wordlessly this time, and he lowered me to the ground.
“So be it.” He stood squinting down at me now, plucking at his lower lip, his right elbow resting on his left fist. “Do you have any of that poison left in you? If you do, this is the place to spit it out, because I’ve heard it now and I won’t be too disgusted to hear more of the same … disappointed, perhaps, but not disgusted. Have you more to say?”
“No, sir.” The words emerged as a husky rasp.
“Good. Then we will treat this little episode as a bad dream, and neither one of us will mention it again, to anyone. Agreed?”
I cleared my throat. “Agreed.”
“Bene. I have been looking for you. That’s why I was in the stables. Chulderic asked me to keep an eye open for you and to send you to the old oak tree on the riverbank when I found you. That was about an hour ago, perhaps half an hour more than that, so he might be there now, waiting for you, or he might not. If he is not, then you are to wait for him. Why are you not in school today?”
I told him about my all-night session with King Ban, and he listened closely, nodding his head from time to time.
“Well,” he said when I had finished, “I can see now why you were so upset. Understandable, I suppose, that you would react badly to having your whole life exposed suddenly and unexpectedly as being different from what you had believed. But there’s no reason to flog yourself over it. You see that now, don’t you? Good. Now you’d better go and find Chulderic. You know he doesn’t like to be kept waiting, by anyone. And if you value your life, don’t use that tone of voice you used with me and don’t tell him you’re a king’s firstborn son and that he must now show you respect. He’ll puke all over you and then beat you senseless. Respect, you will soon learn, is something that has no price. You can’t buy it and it’s a thing you’ll never get by demanding it. You have to earn respect, boy, from one man at a time, and you can’t cheat in any way while you’re about it. You’ll see, someday, because you’ll earn it yourself and you’ll pay it willingly to others. Now go on, get out of here and find Chulderic.”
I had much to think about, although from an entirely different perspective now, as I made my way from the stables to the huge old oak that spread out over the placid, muddy waters of the deep stream that wound through the valley and formed part of the defenses in front of our castle. I set out still smarting from the shame that had swept over me as I caught the rough edge of Clodio’s tongue, but as I walked, my understanding of what had happened began to settle into a new appreciation, one that had been there all along but had been overwhelmed by my delayed reaction to all that I had learned the previous day and night, so that by the time I reached the riverside I felt far better than I had felt since wakening that morning.
Chulderic was not there when I arrived and so I made myself comfortable on the lowest bough of the great tree, my back braced firmly against its bole, then set myself again to reviewing the events and disclosures of the previous night.
“I saw your father sitting like that once.” I jumped, startled to hear Chulderic’s voice so close to me. I had been so deep
ly involved in my thoughts that I had not seen him approach. “But he was higher up, hidden among the leaves, waiting to jump down on a party of raiders as they rode underneath. He was sitting the same way, though, hands clasping his left knee, just like you now, and his right leg stretched out along the branch.”
I swung to face him, flushing guiltily as I prepared to scramble down from my perch, shamed to have been caught slacking when I should have been at my lessons.
“No, stay where you are.”
I froze, caught awkwardly in the act of turning my back to him, my belly against the tree limb as I spread my hands against the rough bark, ready to push myself out and away. Carefully, I eased my body around to where I could see him again, and he made a flapping motion with his upturned palm.
“Stay up there for now. Stay as you were, otherwise I’ll have to look down at you.”
Moving awkwardly and in danger of falling, I cautiously hoisted myself up to where I could regain my secure perch against the bole of the tree, and only after I was firmly seated did I dare to look over again to where he sat astride a tall, black horse, looking back at me. He had not sounded angry, and now it seemed to me he did not even look angry, and a sense of wonder began to stir in me. He had always been a stern, unsmiling, and demanding taskmaster, this dour old soldier, and I would never have suspected that he could be as soft-spoken as anyone else. And yet here he was, addressing me courteously without either scowling frown or rough-edged tongue.
“The King has told me that you knew my father, Magister.” The sense of the words was strange to my ears, and stranger still was my boldness in speaking to him directly without invitation. Magister was the term all of us boys used in addressing Chulderic, and it was a term of respect, as well as an accurate description of his rank. He was Master-at-Arms to King Ban and as such, in times of peace, his duties included acting as our instructor—we being the young men and boys who would eventually, God willing, become the commanders of the armies of Benwick. Chulderic was our tutor and our trainer in the crafts of war that we studied constantly. He knew everything concerning weapons and warfare and honor and the ways of officers and warriors, and we depended upon him entirely for enlightenment and guidance.