The Lance Thrower cc-8

by Jack Whyte

  The muffled sounds of our horses’ hooves seemed very loud after that, neither of us having anything further to say, but while I found myself intrigued by the thought of Chulderic finding a baby’s screams enjoyable, I drew no pleasure from thinking of myself as a screaming infant. And so I rode head down and waited, while counting twice from one to twenty, for him to resume his tale. When he did not, I kneed my mount slightly closer to him.

  “What about Sabina, Magister? Where had she gone? Did you ever see her again?”

  “Oh yes, and far sooner than she had thought to be seen. She had worn a brilliant yellow scarf that day, when we set out to walk, and I had admired it greatly. Now, when I finally sat up and took you in my arms to try to soothe you, I saw it in the distance—a flash of brilliant yellow in a clump of brambles. It was obvious at first glance that Sabina had lost it without being aware of it, because it hung motionless among the thorns and it blazed like a beacon, showing which way she had gone, so I went to collect it, taking you with me.

  “I reached the spot without difficulty, but the ground there, on which the brambles grew, was wet and muddy, almost a swamp, and it was immediately plain to me that Sabina had lost her scarf in falling. There were clear marks where her feet had slipped on the treacherous path and the unmistakable imprint where her body had landed in the mud. She had scrambled to her feet, leaving distinct handprints where she had pushed herself upright, and had then begun to run, the spaces between her footprints almost twice as far apart as they had been before she had lost her balance.

  “Curious about why she should suddenly start to run at that particular point, I followed the track she had taken, walking for about four hundred paces until the path began to drop down the hillside into a little valley, and suddenly there she was, leaning against one of a cluster of three boulders in a depression about fifty paces below me, by the side of the track. Fortunately, you had long since stopped crying, probably lulled by the movement of my carrying you, so I stopped as soon as she came into view, and stood there on tiptoe, looking down at her. There was something urgent and anxious about the way she was standing, rising tensely every now and then to peer along the track leading downward to her right, and I realized that she must be waiting for her husband, Merofled, to come and find her. I was immediately swept by a surge of anger and revulsion, and a strong desire to confront her, and so I began to look for a place to set you down. I knew there was no need to hurry, since Merofled would not be coming, and so I began to retrace my steps, and as I walked and searched I saw Fallo and someone else approaching me on horseback. I moved quickly then, waving them to silence as they drew near. The newcomer was Quentin, another of Germanus’s veterans, and I signaled them to dismount and quickly told them what I intended to do.

  “Sabina did not hear us approach until I spoke to her, and then she leapt like a frightened deer and tried to run, but Quentin was ready for her and tripped her, bringing her down hard before she could go five paces. He and Fallo then pulled her up again, holding one arm each, and brought her back to face me. To her credit, little though it was, she made no attempt to plead or to placate me; she knew by looking at my face that I knew what she had done. When I told her of Merofled’s real death at Fallo’s hand, however, every trace of color drained from her face and she would have fallen had the two men flanking her not held her up. I realized then that she had loved her husband and the knowledge that she could truly have a capacity for love and yet be capable of the crime she had committed that day hardened me inside even more than I had been.

  “I asked her directly why, having murdered your father and mother, she had left you alive, but then I answered the question myself because the truth had just come to me: she had not killed you, but she had left you to die. Her response to that astonished me, however, because it was emphatic and obviously genuine. Your mother’s death, she told me, was a nonsense, talk fit only for a fool. No one sought her death and it had no value to anyone. The most important aspect of all that had taken place this day had been the specific requirement to protect Elaine of Ganis. Capturing her alive had been the entire purpose of this venture. Clodas had coveted the woman since he first set eyes on her, she said, and had convinced himself he would make a far better consort for Elaine, Queen of Ganis, than would her wealthy, gullible fool of a husband, Outlander that he was. The plot that evolved thereafter had centered upon a clean and clear-cut intent: to separate Childebertus from his supporters and kill him swiftly and efficiently, along with his child … the sex of the child had been unknown while the plot was taking shape and was of no importance. What was important was that Elaine should be free of encumbrances from her past life when her abductors took her to Clodas, who would protect and console her and see to her safety thereafter. I swear to you, I listened to her talk and wondered whether she was mad and Clodas was mad, or whether it was I who had lost my sanity.

  “But then I stopped thinking such thoughts and questioned her more thoroughly, seeking the truth, incredible as it might be to hear.

  “Sabina’s pregnancy had been fortuitous, occurring at the same time as Elaine’s, and it was that coincidence that had precipitated the basic idea behind the entire plot. Clodas and Merofled had conceived the plan and had persuaded Sabina to work with them. Clodas had pointed out to her that the rewards would be great, with Merofled benefiting greatly by the takeover of Childebertus’s cavalry, and he had guaranteed her that her own child would be well looked after during the few months when she would be away from him.

  “Everything had gone according to plan, she told me, except that at the final moment, when it came time to kill the child, she had not been able to. She had grown too fond of you. And so she had left you in the meadow, alive for the time being and with, she believed, a good chance of being found and rescued. But your mother, she swore, was very definitely not dead.

  “By the time she finished talking I was gazing at her open-mouthed, appalled at the depth and scope of her self-delusion. Did she—and Clodas, for that matter—honestly imagine that Elaine of Ganis would ever be grateful for the murder of her husband and their son? They would have to be insane to think such a thing. And what about Elaine’s father, King Garth? Was Clodas stupid enough to think that Garth of Ganis would not react to these atrocities with a war of total vengeance?

  “I remember her expression grew sullen at the mention of Garth’s name and I felt my stomach suddenly grow heavy. Garth was already dealt with, she said, although she had had no part in that aspect of the arrangements and had no knowledge of how his death might have been brought about. She knew only that he was marked to die as part of this day’s activities. If Elaine was to be Queen of Ganis—as she would be upon the death of her father—Clodas would be King, by right of conquest as well as by right of being wed to the Queen. And once the old man was dead, Elaine’s attitude to Clodas would make no whit of difference to anything. They would be wed, by force if need be, and thereafter she would be his.

  “Hearing the indifferent tone of the woman’s words, the soulless knell of their disinterest, I turned my back on her and gazed up to the hilltop from where I had first seen her hiding down here, and then I told her what was in my mind. I did not look at her again as I spoke, but I knew she heard every word I uttered.

  “I told her that there were laws in Ganis, and in Gaul, to deal with people like her and the atrocious acts that they committed and conspired to cause. I told her that she deserved to be tried and sentenced by the proper regal authorities. And I told her, too, that in the absence of such authorities—an absence caused by her personal actions and intent—she was therefore being tried and duly condemned to death, in accordance with the law, by the next level of power within the State, that power being the military, represented by me as Master-at-Arms of the Kingdom of Ganis. I then turned to face her and nodded to her guards, who had been waiting for my signal.

  “Fallo and Quentin forced her to her knees, and then, while Quentin held her arms stretched stiffly at her back
, her wrists twisted and locked to prevent her struggling, Fallo undid her long hair and pulled it out in front of her, gripping the tresses firmly in both hands and pulling forward and down, hard, to stretch out her neck. Only then did she begin to believe what I had told her, and her voice grew ever more frantic as she pleaded with me, offering to give me everything a man could desire of a woman … everything I had dreamed of before but would never yearn for again.”

  He paused, biting gently at his upper lip, then turned his eyes on me again, and I could see him taking in my size and, I realized later, my age. “You have no idea of what I mean, boy, but you soon will … aye, soon enough you will.” He lapsed into silence again, his gaze sliding away from me to stare, unfocused, at something only he could see.

  “My sword was a spatha, a long, slender cavalry sword, as you know, intended for stabbing. But I kept it razor sharp and a woman has a very thin neck compared to a man’s. She died as her husband had died, her head severed with one blow.”

  I had been expecting something of the kind, but nevertheless I was left feeling breathless when he spoke the words, perhaps because of the matter-of-fact way in which he delivered them. As I stared at him, I could feel my eyes growing round with incredulity and what I can only think of now as consternation.

  “You killed her, with your own hands? But you said you loved her! How could you do that, if you loved her?”

  “I said I fell in love with her. That is a very different thing from loving her, boy. A boy will love his mother and his grandmother, his aunts and all his sisters, but the feelings that he feels for all of them will be nothing to the feelings he endures when he falls in love with a woman. Falling in love and loving someone are not at all the same. That, too, you will learn someday. But even as you are now, at ten years old, think you I should have spared her?”

  That question left me open-mouthed, silenced between the need to scream out yes! and the realization that we were discussing the woman responsible for my mother’s death. I was unaware of speaking but I must have whispered something of what was going through my mind, because Chulderic answered me.

  “No, not responsible, not completely. It was Clodas who was responsible from the outset—his malevolent envy gave birth to the idea—but he could not have achieved what he did without Sabina. She didn’t handle any sharpened weapons that day, but the lethal honey of her coaxing words to both your parents had been more venomous than any poisoned blade could ever have been, and her deliberate seduction of me, undermining my sense of duty and propriety and enabling me to be false to my own code, was malicious and premeditated. And so I killed her without compunction.”

  I sat silent, absorbing that, then nodded. “That was just. But what about my grandfather, King Garth?”

  Chulderic shook his head, as though dismissing my question. “The woman was right. Garth was already dead, that same morning. The previous night, while Merofled was moving into striking range of where we were camped, Clodas himself had arrived at King Garth’s door, accompanied by an escort of his mercenaries, telling Garth that he was on his way to visit a cousin who lived in a neighboring territory to the north of Garth’s own lands. Garth took him in and made him and his escort welcome without demur or question, secure in the knowledge that Clodas’s father, Dagobert, had been one of his oldest and dearest friends. During the night Clodas’s people rose up in the darkness and one group killed the old king while he slept, overwhelming his guards easily, since none of them expected any danger. And while they were attending to King Garth, others of their number were busy slaughtering the King’s strongest leaders, all of this planned and practiced, with nothing left to chance, so that come morning there was no one left alive who might have rallied the forces of Ganis to withstand the usurper. It was done and over with. Clodas was King of Ganis before the outrage was visited upon your parents later that same day.

  “I refused to believe what the woman had told me, hoping against hope that something might have served to warn and therefore save Garth and his people, and so I set out with Fallo, Quentin, and some others we had found to ride to warn the King of what had happened, and I had you with me, carefully wrapped and tied into a saddlebag that was strapped across my shoulders. But before we had traveled halfway, the word met us coming from Ganis. The King was dead; Clodas had claimed the throne; his army, far larger than the mercenary force your father had provided the previous spring, had moved into Ganis early that morning in overwhelming numbers; everything was chaos and the King’s leaderless army had been disarmed and rendered useless.

  “I immediately pulled our little party off the road. We had nowhere to go that might be safe for us, and none of us was of the type that would consider surrendering to Clodas. Besides, we had a nursing infant with us and no way to feed him. Much as I hated having to take the time to do so, I rode apart from the others and sat down alone to concentrate on what we should do next. Your life and safety was my first priority, above and beyond all other considerations. My negligence had made you an orphan, I believed, for I did not know yet that your mother had survived. Now you were the only living remnant of your family’s blood, and I knew my immortal salvation depended upon my keeping you alive, to grow to manhood and claim vengeance for your parents’ deaths. I had never been more than a nominal Christian until that point, but I became devout thereafter, for a while, believing that I had to expiate my sin of negligence.”

  “So what did you do, Magister?”

  “D’you remember my mentioning Antonia, the other Roman woman who had lost her baby?”

  I nodded, wondering what she could have to do with any of this, and he grunted. “Aye, well, I remembered her, too, and I went searching for her, hoping that she might still be in milk, for months had elapsed since I last saw her. She was not difficult to find, for she yet lived in the same house, and she was still producing milk like a brood cow, for she had taken in another baby, younger than you, whose mother had died at the birthing. She remembered me, and when I told her what had transpired with you she volunteered immediately to take you into care. I left you with her and rode off to see what might be done about Clodas and his treachery.”

  “Did you fight him?”

  “Fight him? I could not draw within a mile of him. He was surrounded by his own people, all of them heavily armed and far more vigilant than I had ever seen before in such a large body of men. Their lord and master had just committed a series of heinous sins, including regicide and the mass slaughter of people who had shown him nothing but kindness. It was reasonable to assume that someone would come seeking vengeance and redress sooner or later, and that the avengers might come from any direction, and so the new ‘King’ had let it be known that he would be openhanded in rewarding any who identified such trouble in advance of its occurrence. Naturally, every man in his army and not a few of Garth’s former people were anxious to qualify for such rewards.

  “I had to split my group asunder, to take their chances each man for himself, for had anyone seen us together and failed to recognize us as allies, or, God forbid, had seen and recognized us as Childebertus’s men, we would all have died instantly.

  “I remained in Clodas’s camp for more than a week, asking questions, learning little and watching what was going on, and as the days passed I grew more and more discouraged. I discovered that your mother was, in fact, alive but was being kept under constant guard. Clodas, I was told, took pains to visit her twice each day, morning and afternoon, between sessions of governing. That information surprised me, for it had not occurred to me that Clodas might actually seek to govern Garth’s kingdom, but as I watched the comings and goings of the various identifiable officials thereafter, I found myself admitting, however reluctantly, that Clodas was far more of an organizer and administrator than I would ever have believed before that time. By the end of ten days I was forced to accept that I was powerless, as things stood, to do anything to revenge myself on Clodas—I had been entertaining fantasies of sneaking into his quarters and wakin
g him up, making sure he knew who I was and why he was about to die, and then slitting his throat. I was equally incapable of doing anything to help your mother in her captivity, for my face was too well known for me to risk discovery trying to approach the quarters where she was being held.

  “That’s when I decided to ride south to Benwick and enlist Ban’s aid in rescuing your mother. But then, before I could leave, your mother took her own life. They told her you were dead, and presented her with evidence of what they said, and that took all the will to live away from her.”

  “What kind of evidence?” What, I wondered, could Clodas have said or done to convince my mother of my death while I was yet alive? Such is the innocence of extreme youth.

  “The foulest kind,” Chulderic replied. “False evidence. She had been grieving deeply for your father, I was told by my informants. I had made a few good contacts during my stay among Clodas’s forces and had ample access to information, but none of it was straightforward. My informants, apart from being the enemy, were not close associates of Clodas but simple soldiers, with all the limitations that entails.

  “From their conversations I knew that Clodas’s prisoner had been prepared to suffer and wait, as long as she believed her son was safe and alive. She believed, too, that Ban of Benwick, her sister’s husband, would ride to her rescue. That would take time, she knew, but she was so confident that he would come that she made no secret of it, warning everyone what would happen to them when her brother-in-law came to Ganis.