“Wait for me, Roddy!”
I slowed Ebon’s gallop the merest trifle. In fifty paces, Rust was at my side.
Ahead, a shriek of agony. Wails, moans, cries.
The music of war.
The Norlanders were in full flight. Our spearmen, panting, caught one after another, burst through their spines with barbed points. Norland archers were particularly vulnerable, unprotected by pikemen. As I watched, a horseman galloped past. His sword sliced at an exposed neck. The Norlander fell, twitched once. Without a pause, our horseman raced on. It was Anavar.
A hundred paces down the road the Norlanders rallied to make a stand. A score of our horsemen milled about. One went down, an arrow in his breast.
“Don’t, Roddy!”
“CALEDON!” I reared in my saddle. My voice was shrill. “For Caledon!”
“For the king!” Rustin could only support me.
“Charge!” Waving my sword, I flew past our disordered troops. A Norland pikeman set his haft in the hard dirt, aimed at Ebon’s breast. I yanked Ebon to the right, desperately let fly my sword. It buried itself in the man’s ribs. Swordless, I raced on, batted aside an archer with my shield.
Behind, the thunder of hooves.
“For Rodrigo!”
I reined in. Our horsemen had swept aside the Norland rally. As far as the eye could see, the road was ours.
Despite our dead and grievously wounded, we had almost a festive air as we jangled west along the trail toward the sea-coast road. We were in a great hurry, lest Danzik’s force regroup. Somewhere between the turn in the road where we’d skirmished and the Norlander camp, we hoped to join with Earl Groenfil’s horsemen, who’d attacked the Norland camp from the rear.
Anavar, flushed and proud, joined our circle and chattered of a stallion to succeed his rather gentle mare. At fifteen, he ought have one; I made a silent vow to see to it.
Only Rustin was grim and silent, his face a thundercloud. Aware of the cause, I knew better than to remonstrate.
Uncle Raeth of Cumber had trained Tursel well; despite the chaos of battle, the captain had reassembled our men in good order and refused them pause to loot the dead.
Notwithstanding our victory, we held our shields high. The forest was thick, and Norland stragglers might be lurking. My bodyguard Kadar and his troop surrounded me as we rode.
Abruptly we were on a downhill, the seacoast road before us. To the south, our left, lay Danzik’s main camp that we’d attacked so ignominiously a few weeks past. To the north, Stryx harbor, and beyond it, the Keep and Castle Way.
Our pace increased.
The clatter of horse came out of nowhere. Norland cavalry streamed from the wood onto the road ahead. As our spearmen fell into rank, a few turned tail and ran.
More horsemen poured onto the trail. My heart leapt. They wore the leathern jerkins of Groenfil’s troop.
The milling Norsemen hesitated, plunged toward the seacoast road.
“Give chase!” I stood in my stirrups, and Ebon snorted. “Tursel, sound the advance!” I cupped my hands. “Tursel!”
A wave of acknowledgment. In a moment the horn sounded. As I dug in my spurs, fingers closed on my cloak, hauled me rearward. It was all I could do to stay in the saddle. Furious, I whirled. “Who dares ... oh.” I gulped.
“Dismount, sir!” Rustin, his eyes ablaze.
“They’re in flight! Let me lead—”
“Am I your guardian? Am I regent?” He held out his hand for my reins. Reluctantly, I opened my fingers. As I dismounted he seized my upper arm, led me to the wood. Kadar and my guard followed.
“Tell them not to interfere.”
“With what?”
“Still you defy me? Will you never cease?”
Stung, I turned to Kadar. “Wait over there. Do nothing, whatever Rustin ... raise no hand to him.”
Rust drew his blade, cut a shoot, began to strip the leaves.
I swallowed. “Not here, I beg you. Not in front of—”
For a moment, his labor ceased. “Roddy, when you give a command, do you expect the king to be obeyed?”
“Yes.”
“Always, or when it’s convenient?”
I felt my face redden. “Always.”
“You’ve no right to rule, unless you’d do what you ask of others.”
My mouth was dry.
“Bare your back, my prince.”
Heartsick, trembling, I did so. Not knowing where else to put them, I set my cloak and jerkin on the grass.
He led me to a sapling. “Embrace the tree.”
I wrapped my arms around the smooth wood, fighting a wave of fury.
Now do I appoint Rustin, son of Llewelyn and Lord of the Keep, as regent of the crown of Caledon and of my person.
It had been of my own free will. I closed my eyes.
The switch lashed my bare back until I was aflame with hornet stings. In moments he was done. It was his intent to castigate, not to wound me, and he didn’t break skin. He dropped the switch.
I made myself face him. “I thank thee for thy care and—you’re crying!”
“What of it?” He handed me my cloak.
“I’m sorry!” Almost, I dropped to my knees. “Rust, forgive me!”
“I had to do it, Roddy.” His voice was anguished.
“I know, Rust, I’m willful.” His caress brushed my back, and I yelped. I giggled, and it turned to tears. He held me tight, his hands well clear of my smarting flesh.
After a time he released me. Wiping my eyes, I growled at Kadar, “What are you gawking at? Have you never seen a lashing?”
“Yes, my lord. I mean, not—” Not of the king.
“Lord Rustin is my protector and has the right.” I threw on my cloak, tried not to grit my teeth. There was no thought of wearing my jerkin this day. I untied Ebon, hesitated. “Do I ride behind you, Rust?” My tone was more than civil.
“Is there need?”
I sighed. “No, sir.”
He motioned me to mount Ebon.
Together, almost amiably, we cantered after our troop.
For one so portly, Lady Larissa of Soushire was astonishingly light on her feet; she trotted across the sodden clearing that had once been the Norland camp.
“A brilliant stroke.” She beamed at the captured Norland wagons laden with supplies, the abandoned defensive earthworks, the stacks of unused arrows propped against a downed tree. Anavar dangled his legs off the backboard of a wagon, charged with guarding our newfound treasure against looting.
“Not my doing, my lady.” A pang of regret, that it was so. “Earl Groenfil captured their camp.”
“Of course, but after you drew them forth.”
Wistfully, I considered donning the glory she proffered. No, what adulation I might have, I would earn. “It was he,” I repeated.
“And Danzik, my lord?”
“Fled south, with a remnant of his men.” Groenfil’s horsemen were after him. But the bulk of the Norlanders had been herded between the coast road and the Keep. They’d made a hurried, halfhearted effort to loot the town, hindered by the relentless pursuit of Groenfil’s horsemen. Now, most were surrendered and under guard. Our role was to guard their erstwhile camp, and the seacoast road, lest Danzik somehow slip past his pursuers and bolt north.
“What now, sire?”
“Is Tursel about?”
Anavar heard me, shook his head. “He’s gone with Groenfil.” The boy’s tone was unhappy.
“What ails you?”
“I would ride with him, but ...” A contemptuous thumb indicated the ignominy of the wagon.
For a moment, I let my annoyance show. Then I bowed pardon of Lady Larissa, approached the backboard. My tone was low. “I am king, and am forbidden the chase. Can you not bear likewise?”
He gulped. “Rustin?”
“Yes.” I held his eye.
His voice was small. “Forgive me.”
“Done.” I clapped his knee.
For two hours
I forced myself to make idle talk, with Anavar, with Lady Soushire, with Rust. My answers grew shorter, my pace more agitated. My cloak chafed my stinging back, but shame stopped me from taking it off, in front of all.
At last, the rumble of hoofbeats. I strode to the edge of the glade. A column of horse, led by Earl Groenfil. He raised his hand; they halted. He dismounted, tossing his reins to Tanner.
“My lord King.” A short bow, almost of equals. His dark face lightened in a slow smile. “We have him! He’d have fought unto death, but he lost his sword when—”
“Danzik?” My voice shot into the upper registers.
“Aye. Tursel escorts him, under heavy guard.”
I raced to the wagons. “Rust! Anavar!”
Anavar’s grin was as wide as my own. “At last, my lord.” I seized his hands, danced him across the clearing.
Rust eyed me. “One would think you were pleased.”
“Would you I feigned despair? We have Danzik!”
He allowed himself a small smile. “Yes, it’s worth a frolic. But he’s not Hriskil.”
“I know.” For the merest moment, my joy was dampened. “But Rust, Stryx is freed!” We’d hoped, by our attack, to break Danzik’s hold on the coast road, to force him southward into the marshes. But thanks to Groenfil’s maneuver, the Norland camp was seized, Danzik’s army broken, their commander taken. We’d bought not merely time, but sorely needed victory.
“What now, my prince?”
“On to Cumber?” I debated. “Or should we first force Uncle Mar from Verein?” Margenthar’s holding was a mere day’s ride from Stryx, and provided him secure base for a sudden lunge at my royal seat.
“May I speak?” Anavar waited for my nod. “I’ve explored your castle oft enough ... where will you put Danzik?”
“In a—” I stopped. Stryx Castle had no cells, though rumor had it that in Grandfather Tryon’s day the winecellar had served as a gaol. I shrugged. “In a bedchamber, I suppose. Under guard.”
He snorted.
“What would you, then?”
“Finish what you start.” Lest I failed to understand, Anavar drew a finger across his throat.
“This is Caledon. We’re civilized.” In Eiber, Anavar’s land, attackers were put to death without mercy.
“He’s your enemy.”
I grasped his blouse. “As were you, youngsire. Had I your thirst of blood, you’d be bones under earth.”
His hand closed over mine, without rancor. “I irk you, sir, but you’ve made Caledon my home. I’d see you keep it.” His guileless eyes studied mine. “While you’re in your donjon, Danzik is your prisoner. What when you take the field? Do you leave him at Stryx, that intrigue may swirl about his head? Do you haul him with you?”
“Bah. He’s not yet in my hands, and you’d quarrel about his keep.” I patted his hand, released him. “You mean well.”
Rustin’s eyes lit in approval, and I blushed. I hadn’t meant to be kind, just ... well, perhaps I had. Anavar was a good soul.
At last, Tursel rode into camp. Fully a hundred horse surrounded Danzik and his four countrymen. The Norland leader’s hands were bound behind his back, and Tursel’s most trusted men encircled him. Danzik sported a full beard and a bushy mustache. His hair was wild, and blood caked his scalp.
I held his reins. “You’re Hriskil’s deputy.”
He stared at my scar. “Rez?”
I looked about.
Tursel translated, “ ‘King?’ ”
“Yes.”
Gripping the saddle with his knees, Danzik leaned over, spat full in my face.
Rustin batted me aside, hauled Danzik from his mount. The two rolled on the turf. Anavar threw himself atop the pile, fists swinging.
I wiped spittle from my cheek. “Stop!” They paid no heed. I waded in, got a grip on Anavar’s ear, twisted. He squawked. “Off, this instant! Rustin, you too!” I hauled Rust clear of the fray. In a moment Danzik lay alone in the dirt.
I helped Danzik rise. “My nobles scuffling like churls? Bah!” I raised a hand to slap Anavar, barely stopped myself. “Go sit on the wagon. I won’t hear a word from you ’til day’s end!”
If I’d expected gratitude from Danzik, I was mistaken. He made as if to spit again. I whipped out my dagger. “Don’t try me, Norlander,” He might not have understood my words, but my tone quelled him. “Kadar, put him in the saddle.” I mounted my stallion, peered at the lonely coast road. The Keep guarded Stryx from the north, but southward the town gave way to wood and fields. Danzik and Hriskil had taken full advantage. “Captain Tursel, might we fortify this place?”
“We can build on their earthworks.”
“Let it be done. Rust, I would go home.”
“Never again, Rust!” We rode, at a walk, up the steep Castle Way.
“Danzik dishonored you.”
“He dishonored Hriskil, and himself. You redeemed his worth.”
“By striking him?”
“A bound man. You shamed me.” My voice was hot. “I warn you, don’t—”
“You warn me?”
“It’s statecraft. I know whereof I speak.” I nudged Ebon closer to Rust, gave his shoulder a squeeze. “I’m no dunce in this.”
“Almost I believe you.”
“Don’t you see? When I kicked over tables in the market, what did I make of myself?”
“A churl.”
“And when my guardian scuffles in the dirt?”
Rust’s fists bunched. I was wary, lest he strike me. With great effort, he unknotted himself. Then, “You’re right.”
“Good. Talk to Anavar, will you?” I picked up my blouse. “He’s furious that I tugged his ear.”
“Why not beat him? It’s been your way.”
“Was it, today?” We’d spoken of Danzik’s capture, and I’d made generous allowance for his youth.
“Sorry. I’m annoyed that you knew better than I. Yes, you were kind to Anavar.”
“Nonetheless, cruelty comes easy to me. He meant no harm, yet ...” I sighed. “I had to work at kindness.”
Rust said, “You saw I was pleased with you?”
“Yes.” I stretched, and winced. “I’m sore.”
“Roddy, since I—since I took you to the trees ... how shall I say it? You’ve acted a man.”
“That’s not the cause,” I said quickly. He smiled, but it didn’t relieve my trepidation. If he took it into his head that stripes lent me maturity ...
He nodded assent. I spurred Ebon.
In the courtyard of Castle Stryx, Elryc hurled himself at me with unfeigned joy, while behind him, his liegesman Genard grinned like a simpleton.
“Easy, brother.” I clapped his back, separated myself from his iron embrace. “It’s been but five days.”
“Forever.” He pulled me to the ramparts, to watch the procession wind its way up the hill. “Truly, you have Danzik himself?”
“He rides between my guards.” I pointed. “Don’t get close; he spits.”
Elryc clasped my hand. “I worried so. Twice I dreamed you were ...” He swallowed. “Genard and I had the ritemaster do a propitiation.”
A few paces away, the former stableboy pricked up his ears.
I lowered my voice. “I have much to tell you.” I spoke of our fiasco with Lady Soushire’s ritemaster, of Bollert’s apparent Power, of my loss of the cave.
“Roddy ...” Elryc puzzled through matters beyond his ken. “Who taught you to wield the Still to force truth from Tanner? Or how to plague Genard, that day at dinner?”
“It’s—” I had not words. “It was there when I wanted the knowing.”
“Is there else the Still allows you?”
“I don’t know. I think not.”
“I wish ...”
“That you had use of it?”
Miserably, he nodded.
“It’s a wonderful Power. Notice how attentive Tanner’s become, ever since—”
“In the cave you speak with Mother.”
“That I love her still.”
“She knows, and loves you as much. Last year when Mar told me you were dead, she keened.”
His eyes filled. Genard sidled close.
“It’s all right, Gen.” Elryc sniffled, and manfully took deep breath. He watched the horses’ slow tread with bleak eyes.
I said, “Tonight I’ll want your advice. We need to strike again, before our troop dissipates.”
He nodded. “We’ll talk after the banquet.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Surely you intend to fete Groenfil and Tursel? Make heroes of them, Roddy.”
“I too was in the field.” My tone was bitter.
“But you’re king, and the king’s praise has more worth than gold.”
“Dress yourself. They’ll be waiting.” Rustin paced my chamber.
“And hungry, no doubt.” I’d roused the cooks, to set under way the banquet Elryc advised. “What’s that confounded yowling?” I unbolted the door. Outside, Tanner napped on the bench. “Go stop that racket. Find the cause.”
“Aye, King.” He raced down the stairs.
Before I was done brushing my hair he was back. “It’s Bollert. He doesn’t want hooding.”
“We can’t let him dictate—” I rolled my eyes. “You’re handsome enough, Rust. Leave it, and we’ll visit Bollert before dinner.”
The groomsman was confined in a sparse room of what had been Uncle Mar’s wing. He cowered in a corner, his eyes wild, hands and feet bound. From the doorway, Tanner watched openmouthed.
“What is this uproar?” I stood, hands on hips.
“Please, King. Gotta see.” A sheen of sweat gleamed. “Horrible, under hood. You don’ know.”
“Sorry.” I motioned to the guard. “A kick or two in the stomach, if he starts that—”
“Please!” Bollert scrambled to his knees, wrists tight to his back. “Demons. In dark, imps. Feel ’em walking on me.” He shuddered. “Beg you, King.”
“If I let you look, you’ll spell the guard to free you.”
“Won’t. Swear.” His voice caught. “Don’t put me in hood.”
I frowned. Rustin was impassive. Tanner watched wide-eyed, mouth ajar.
The King (Rodrigo of Caledon Book 2) Page 9