Elryc giggled. “You can’t have him. Ow!” He’d thumped his head. A moment’s thought. “Roddy, would they have killed you?”
“I don’t know.”
“You were wonderful. Mother would be proud.”
“How did you hear?”
“I didn’t let Anavar take me far. Your voice carried.”
Outside, a pair of boots. Leggings. I set down my bowl.
Earl Groenfil crouched, peered under. “Well, now.”
Like a castle hound, I crawled out from my shelter. “My lord.” I ran fingers through my tousled hair.
Groenfil crossed his arms, stood scowling. “What are we to do with you?”
I blurted, “What are the choices?”
“I wish I knew. At times I’d cheerfully strangle you.”
“Is this one of—”
Anavar crawled out from under his blanket, stood listening.
Earl Groenfil held up a palm. “Then you redeem yourself with such grace, I ...” Abruptly, he turned away.
“What?”
“I could wish you were my son.”
I swallowed a lump. “Thank you, my lord.” I bowed, a short familiar bow as a son to father, and managed not to spoil it by saying more.
“I wish,” the earl said presently, “you’d maintain the arrogant disposition we’ve all come to know.”
“Why?”
“By your virtue you shame me.” He squared his shoulders. “Twice, now, in heat of battle, I’ve spoken to you with such foul—”
I said quickly, “It was the Rood.”
“Nonetheless, I ask thy pardon.”
“Gladly granted,” I said.
“So. The wounded are under shelter. We’ve distributed food and drink; the men rest. We’ve scavenged weapons aplenty. When will Hriskil attack?”
I blinked. “You assume I know?”
“Yes.” After a moment, “I trust your instinct. Ah, my lord Duke:” Groenfil made way for Tantroth.
“He’s rejoined us? A most impressive performance, Rodrigo.” Tantroth gave a nod, almost a bow.
Was it compliment or accusation? Cautiously, I kept silent. Beside me, Anavar glared at the duke.
“The camp sings your praises.”
Abruptly I tired of sparring. “I’m weary, and every muscle aches. Might we postpone our duel?”
“You misunderstand. I honor you.” Tantroth wheeled to Anavar. “Youngsire, you lack manners. Were you not the king’s favorite, I would offer correction.”
Anavar hissed. “You’re a foul—”
“Stop, both of you!” I spoke before I thought. “My Duke, with respect: he’s my ward to chastise. He’s renounced Eiber—”
“Without my leave!”
Groenfil raised an eyebrow.
“—and is my Baron of the Southern Reaches. As such he’s beyond your correction.” I raised a warning finger to Anavar. “And you, sir, are insolent to my ally the duke. I won’t have it. If I strive to regulate my conduct, you regulate yours!”
Anavar gulped. After a moment, “I offer apology.”
“And to the duke!”
He reddened, ear to ear. “And to you, my lord Duke.” A reluctant bow, of lesser to better.
Tantroth grunted.
My tone was cool. “You have our leave, Anavar.” That wasn’t fair; without a tent, he had nowhere to go. The boy withdrew with what dignity he could salvage. I frowned. “Surely you didn’t seek me out to bicker over my liegesmen.”
“Why, not at all, sire.” Tantroth’s voice was smooth. “I came to extol your skill last evening. In fact, Groenfil, wasn’t I just saying—”
I said, “Do you never tire of games, my lord?”
“Seldom.” But after a moment Tantroth shrugged. “You are, in fact, the wonder of the camp. At the moment they’d follow you anywhere. So, where do you lead?”
The question gave me pause. I gestured for him to go on.
“Do we merely block the pass, sire, and leave the next cast of the bones to Hriskil?”
“Or?”
For a moment Tantroth looked older. “I was hoping you’d tell us.”
“I have no miracles, my lord Duke.”
“A pity. I could, perhaps, pick my way past the Norland camp.”
“To what purpose?” Groenfil.
“Harry them from the rear. Make them think twice before throwing themselves at the wall.”
I said, “With all our force, we barely held the pass.”
“Oh, nonsense,” said Tantroth briskly. “We can’t squeeze even a third of our men onto the wall.”
“Afterward, in the field ...”
“Think you Hriskil will give us such chance again?”
“I don’t know!” I shifted from foot to foot. “I’m but half awake and need to piss. A poor moment to debate policy.”
“Then I’ll leave you to your needs. We’ll speak later.” A bow, deeper than the last. He said to Groenfil, “Shall we oversee Tursel’s repair of the gate?” They departed.
As I vigorously scratched myself, Elryc joined me, setting aside his empty porridge bowl. I asked, “What was that about?”
“Your nobility. They wanted to view it anew.”
I scrutinized him, to see if he mocked. Apparently not. “Did they?”
“Enough. You set Tantroth back over Anavar; he tested to see if you would. And you honored Groenfil’s admission.”
“Hmpff. Why can’t they just say what they mean?”
Elryc smiled. “Roddy, we are Caledon.”
Nineteen
“... MARVELOUS VICTORY, RODRIGO; Grandfather would be so pleased. And I’m sure you didn’t mean it the way it sounded; it’s an outrage so many took it amiss. You’ve every right to be proud of how you redeemed yourself. How I wish I’d heard your speech to the men. A clumsy fool? Certainly not. I knew that the moment I laid eyes on you.
“I must hurry; I bade the courier await my reply, and rushed to my rooms to dash off these lines. Now it’s I who need apologize for blots and scribbles.
“So, has Anavar accepted his rebuke? Is Tantroth more deferential? What does Danzik think of his lord’s defeat? Eagerly I await your response.
“As to your ‘campaign of kindness,’ I commend your perseverance. Act with all folk as you confide to me that you’ve resolved; it but brings to men’s notice your true nature.
“My dearest Roddy—if I may so address my liege lord, the king of my realm—do write again, and soon. Life in Cumber is drear. The prosperity of our land is shaken, and the Norland threat looms. And if I may suggest it, do send greetings to Bouris as well, when next you write to me. He takes it amiss that his earldom is not in your regard, and the arrival of your courier rubs salt in the wound. He’s given to biting remarks and petty retaliations. They trouble me not, but I worry lest he transfer his displeasure to you, my lord. You cannot afford the alienation of Cumber.
“In the hope this missive finds you well, and with the assurance you are always in my heart, I remain Tresa, of Cumber.”
“Ove, guiat.” Hello, teacher.
Danzik grunted. “You live.”
“Does that surprise you?”
“Quix iot.” Perhaps a little. A shrug. “My lord Hriskil is generous.”
“No, it’s I who was generous. After we burned his camp I let him go.”
Danzik chuckled. “A Caled boy, defeat the Norland king?” He shook his head at the notion.
I hunched over, elbows on knees. “Why do you hold me in such ... Genard, what’s the word for contempt?”
“Redic.”
“Thank you. Pir redic, Danzik? Pir?”
“Ca vos sa redicas.” Because you’re contemptible.
I said nothing.
He snarled, “You’re a Caled savage!”
My eyes held his.
The Norlander looked uncomfortable. “Ca ... Hriskil is a man, a famed warrior. You’re a boy with a mouth full of lies.”
“You don’t believe we burned his cam
p?”
“Impossible.”
My eyes burned through him. He began to fidget.
I’d endured withering scorn from my own men; imps take me if I’d let an unlettered Norland oaf mock me.
Genard murmured, “Easy, m’lor’. Don’t give him the satisfac—”
Abruptly, I stood. Madness, keeping a Norlander in my very camp. “Danzik, have you honor?”
A growl.
“Have you? Does a Norlander keep his word?” Of course not, but I’d play the game.
“Qay.” Yes.
“Even to a ... Caled han-kevhom?” A Caled savage?
He looked about for something, or someone, to smash. “Qay!”
“We’ll see. Genard, help me explain this. How if I release you ... Genard—?”
“I don’t know. Han pris? Not capture?”
“Han pris. If I release you to ride your kev and see if the camp was burned? If I lied, you’re freed. But you give vade, oath: if I told truth, return and be pris once more.” As if he would.
His look was wary. “No other oath? Only return if you burned camp?”
“Qay,”
A smile that grew to a toothy grin. “Danzik is free!”
Groenfil, in his tent, was beside himself. “Did imps seize your wits? To let him ride off thumbing his nose—”
“I doubt he’ll do that.”
“The moment he’s out of bowshot!” The tent flaps swirled. With an effort he calmed himself. “More wine, Larissa? Roddy?”
“I’d like mine watered. And if he does?”
“Think of morale, sire! To say nothing of what he’ll tell Hriskil. He’s seen our camp, counted our—”
I took a sip. “Think you Hriskil hasn’t his spies? There’s little about our camp he doesn’t know.”
A reluctant nod. “That may be so, but men died to give you Danzik.”
“They died to free the coast road and smash Danzik’s camp. Sending him home doesn’t negate their sacrifice. And his tutelage is no great loss. As Norlanders don’t practice ransom, we’d have to hold him ’til war’s end. This way we’ll be rid of him. It feels right.”
“Tell him that’s no way to lead Caledon,” said Lady Soushire.
“My lady,” I said, “what good does the barbarian do us?”
“He’s a symbol. Our men look on his chains and know the Norlanders aren’t invincible.”
“If you’re bored with his company,” said Groenfil, “put him to death. You saw the surgeon’s tents. Why let a seasoned warrior loose to wreak more havoc?”
I went off to ponder.
Tursel, Tantroth, even Imbar objected to Danzik’s release. As peaceably as I could, I overrode them all, but their feelings were so strong I resolved to keep an eye on our bowmen while Danzik rode off.
“Ove, Danzik. Good-bye.” I handed him his reins.
A nod that might convey grudging respect. “When we meet again ...” Something I couldn’t catch. He saw my confusion, leaned over the pommel, said slowly and clearly in his own tongue, “All before forgotten, when me guiat, you memora. War is kill.”
“So must it be. Tursel, the gate.”
The bar was lifted; the thick, battle-scarred door swung open. The Norland chief kicked his heels. His mount bolted.
“Danzik!”
He reined.
I held out a sword, one we’d carried from the field.
He raised an eyebrow. “Pir?” Why?
“That you go home with ... vade.” Honor. I handed it up, stepped quickly out of range. I didn’t trust his honor that far.
He grinned. “Salut, Rez.” A vague wave, and the dwindling clatter of hooves.
Tantroth joined me on the walk back to camp. “The most imprudent act of your reign,” he said.
My tone was sharp. “Why didn’t you poison him in his wagon? You had ample opportunity.”
“He might have had some use. And I couldn’t conceive, my liege, that you’d be so foolish as to let him go.”
We walked the rest of the way in silence.
In the clearing, I found my tent vacated, the flaps rolled high to air out the bedding. I looked about, saw only Tanner squatting to sun himself. I snapped my fingers. “The wounded. Where?”
He pointed. “With others, m’lord.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Dunno.” Not a question to ask a servant boy.
My tone sharpened. “Get to your feet when you speak to me. I’m king.” Was it cruelty? No, by Lord of Nature. Simple manners.
Listlessly, he did as I asked.
I peered into the tent. Bloody rags pitched in a corner. My silver ewer, overturned. Carpets stained and disheveled, the bedding awry. I swung open the trunk. Most of my clothing seemed undisturbed, but if any was missing I wouldn’t begrudge it. “Tanner.” My voice was mild. “Come straighten this out.” It would keep him busy.
I perched on a trunk while he shook out carpets.
Tursel hurried up, saw the boy working. “Good, lad, straighten the tent. Roddy will have a fit if he sees—oh, sire!” He fell back, disconcerted. “The men ... a delegation. They demanded we return you your quarters. After last night ...”
“Yes. Well.” I tugged at the comforter, straightening wrinkles. “What kind of fit?”
“You’d be annoyed. Have words with—sire, forgive me.” His face was red.
“Easily done.” I waved it away. “Where’s Anavar, these days?”
Tursel studied his fingernails. “He took a bed at the alehouse.”
“Was I too rough on him?”
“I wasn’t present.”
“But no doubt you heard.” A king’s life in camp did not lend itself to privacy.
Tursel glanced at the servant boy, moved closer and lowered his voice. “Anavar showed his ire to Tantroth. That’s dangerous, as well as impertinent.”
“Think you Tantroth would—”
“He’ll never accept Anavar’s desertion.”
I bit my lip. “Well, from his view, it was treason.”
“There’s that, and pride.”
“Is the boy’s life at risk?”
Tursel said, “Tantroth’s no fool, and doesn’t think you one. Still, it were better they be kept apart.”
Outside the tent the courier stood insolently, hand on hip. Perched on my bed, I read through his missive.
“From Bouris earl of Cumber, greetings to Rodrigo king.
“Sadly, I regret that the defense of my holdings makes it impossible to send the men or supplies Tursel requests. In fact, our walls are alarmingly undermanned, and I see no choice but to order the return of a portion of the troops who fight under your glorious standard. I relinquish to you the services of your Baron Imbar—”
“My baron!” I gritted my teeth.
“—and a hundred men-at-arms. I shall expect the return of Captain Tursel and the remaining troops in one week’s time.”
“What’s it say, Roddy?” Elryc peered over my shoulder.
“That Hriskil’s found an ally.” I crumpled the dispatch. “What’s Bouris to gain?”
With a sigh, Elryc smoothed the parchment, scanned the letter. “He gives you a week to negotiate. What does he want?”
“Ah.” I hadn’t thought of it in that light. “Ask that lout kicking the sod in my walkway.” He’d ridden into camp, bold as brass, and thrust his letter at Pardos without a word of greeting.
I asked, “Would Hriskil guarantee Bouris’s lands and holdings?”
“He must offer something of worth. Llewelyn’s in his camp.”
I growled. Why Rustin’s father had betrayed us still remained a mystery.
“Never mind Llewelyn.” I said. “Bouris is a hard enough nut to crack. What do we tell him?” To jump in a lake of fire, if I had my way of it. His lands and castles would make a fine gift, if I wrested them from him. To Anavar, for instance.
As if reading my mind, Elryc said, “Remember your promise to Raeth.”
I grimaced. To your bloo
dline forever, though it cost my crown to preserve it. A rash vow, with Bouris his heir. But now I couldn’t dispossess the new earl without losing the Still. And, of course, my honor. What ought I to do? Ask Tursel? Did he serve Cumber or Caledon? At this point, did he himself know?
“Meanwhile,” I muttered, “the courier waits. You, there!” I strode to the flap. “Thank the good earl for his message. Tell him he’s invited here to a banquet, third-day hence, to celebrate our great victory and to consult with my lords on our future course. Can you remember that? Need I write it?”
“I’ll tell him.”
No “sire,” no “my lord.” I said brightly, “Are you sure? If it will tax your memory—” His cheeks reddened.
When he’d ridden off, Elryc asked, “Was that wise? Why pique him?”
“Because he’s a clod, as is his master. Because I’m full to my throat with dispensing kindness and soft words, and if I don’t pique someone I’ll—I’ll bite!” Congeniality wasn’t in my nature.
“Thank you, sire,” murmured Elryc slyly, “for making me feel at home.” He put the letter aside. “And the banquet?”
“Pheasant, I think. A sauce of oranges, braised—”
He jabbed me in the ribs.
“The obvious reason. To see if he’d come.” And by so doing, place himself for the moment in my power.
“Of course, Roddy, but why make Bouris commit himself?” As in better times, Elryc settled cross-legged on my bed. “What harm letting him stretch his leash?”
I said, “Who knows what mischief he’d commit? By speeding his hand, at least we deny him subtlety.”
“It doesn’t seem his strong point.”
Glum, I sat with head in hands. “I miss Uncle Raeth.”
After a moment, my brother said, “So does Imbar.”
“What more would you? I included him in my councils, gave him employment in battle. He’s had time to digest his loss.”
“I know, but ...” His eyes darted to mine, as if in measure. “If it were your loss we spoke of ...”
“Uncle Raeth? Oh!” I drew sharp breath. Rustin. As long as I lived, his torn throat would be before my eyes. I swallowed a lump. “Is that what manhood consists of, Elryc? The tally of absent friends?”
“Sire, to the wall! Make haste!” The runner gasped for breath.
I bolted from my tent. “Hriskil attacks?”
The King (Rodrigo of Caledon Book 2) Page 27