“After a few days I found a peasant hut to hide my horse. I needn’t ride all the way to Fort. With the hours that earned, I began circling behind the castle to the fishing villages south of Stryx. I may have met your man.”
“Baron Jahl?” My tone was cool. “Quite possibly.”
“Roddy, she swelled our numbers by a thousand. The castle’s well defended. Each day our guards are more proficient.”
I gestured to her helmet, her breastplate. “Why all that?”
Tresa said tightly, “So they’d listen. As you pointed out at Soushire, I’m only a woman.”
I made my fists unknot. “Willem, might you leave us a moment?” I waited. Then, “I’d be a better king with my tongue cut out. I pray your forgiveness for such a boorish remark.”
She studied me. Her eyes softened. “Granted, my liege.”
“I owe you much, and thank you.” My hand strayed to my scar, stayed to shield it. “I ought tend to Rustin.” I stopped. “Do you know about ... ?”
She smiled, and her visage lit. “One morning I awoke and knew he wasn’t dead. Roddy, I’m so proud of you!”
“You ... remember the other?”
“Your grace, your leadership. It was, and wasn’t. What a noble sacrifice.”
Resolutely, I faced a wild charging boar. “I sacrificed more. I intended ... a Return ... my scar ... I meant to make myself fit for you.”
Abruptly, her eyes teared. “Why must you think you’re not?” The hint of a curtsy, and she half-ran to the donjon.
Drying cloth in hand, I stared at her retreating form.
A judicious cough. Willem. “Well, my liege. Go mollify her.”
I blinked. “She’s loyal to Caledon, and I’m ever grateful, but look!” I rubbed my scar. “Surely she’s repelled!”
“Roddy ... my liege ... pardon. At times I still see you as a boy. Know you how she presented herself to your vassals? The Lady of the Hill, consort to the king.” Then, “Was she false?”
“Willem, I—I—” I gulped. “You can’t imagine how I wanted it.”
His tone was gentle. “Then go make it so.”
“She won’t ... laugh? Scorn me?”
“No, lad.” For a moment I imagined him Lord Groenfil, or Josip, my father. “Set right what’s between you.”
His blessing starched my resolve, all the way to the donjon doors. Once inside, I inquired where Rustin had been lodged. There’d be time for Tresa after.
I found him lounged on a cushion bed, watching a servant girl light a fire. His bandage was fresh changed. It seemed Willem had the castle well in hand.
Rustin followed my eyes to his ribs. “You ought have let him sew me.”
“You’d have cried out in Caled.”
“You’re so sure?”
Behind us, the fire caught.
“I did, sir. It hurts.”
“Well, no matter. In four days, I’ll be as new. It was a scratch. Oh, shush. A deep scratch.” Then, “Have you seen her yet?”
“Aye. We talked.”
“And?”
“She rides all about Stryx. Instead of being gladdened, I insulted her.” I grimaced. “What comes over me in her presence?”
The servant girl poured fresh water.
Rustin chuckled. “She has a fearsome way about her. That day she—”
I blurted, “I think if I ask nicely she’ll have me again.”
“—pulled my ear—”
“WHAT?”
We each stared, as if the other had gone mad. “Sir, you had a long ride, and lost blood ...”
“Stop that at once!” He raised himself.
The girl glanced between us, as if gathering herself to flee.
I said cautiously, “You asked if I’d seen Tresa.”
“I spoke of Nurse Hester, you dolt!”
I shook my head, sat in a daze. After a time, I began to chuckle, and soon couldn’t stop laughing. Seeing me, Rustin joined, and clutched his ribs in pain.
When all was done, my gaiety vanished. “Rustin, in all these months, I’ve not thought once about our nurse.”
“You’ve had much—”
“She raised me!” And now sat above, in the old nursery, her mind long wandered. “I think always of self.”
“Go, then.”
I threw open the door just as a page skidded to it, hand raised to knock. A quick bow. “Willem says:—I mean, his respects, sire, and I’m to tell you we’ve word from Verein, and Groenfil’s land.”
Willem was in his usual office, in the wing that had once served Uncle Mar. “Come in, my liege. The falconer thought to check the dovecotes.” He offered me tiny scraps of scrolled parchment; I left them for his reading. “From Groenfil’s castle: Hriskil grows ever stronger. If we would aid them, we must hurry. And worse, Groenfil’s sons had ... a falling out. Franca stabbed his brother, Horst, who lies abed.”
“The Rood again.” May imps drown Hriskil in a lake of fire.
“From Verein,” Willem said, “happier news. Anavar writes the Norlanders are repulsed. Sarazon’s entire army withdraws toward Soushire and Groenfil.”
“That’s not possible.” However valiant, Anavar defended Verein with but a score of men.
“What arrangement had you with Groenfil?”
“After the sailors joined us, Rust sent a man to the wood above Stryx, where Groenfil awaited us. If our raid succeeded, he was to fall on Sarazon’s supply trains. The idea was to lure Sarazon down from the mountains.”
Willem grinned. “In that, you failed. You meant to save the earldoms, and saved Stryx. I’ve sent riders up the Seacross Road. They need be cautious, not to blunder into Sarazon’s retreating column. When they find Groenfil, they’ll bring us word.”
I grunted. “Send a courier to summon Anavar; I must learn what Power my young baron wields. I have need of it. Meantime, it seems I’ll ride to Groenfil.”
“If you denude our walls yet again, you’ll command near a thousand, plus Groenfil’s four hundred. Is it enough?”
“Enough to try. If Groenfil’s holding falls, the earl will lose heart.” And he’ll lose his sons. Never forget that, Roddy.
Somberly, I made my way up the stairs. The nursery, Hester’s old domain, was on the third floor, above Mother’s chambers, which I’d never made my own. Perhaps it was that I encountered the queen so often in the cave, perhaps I merely felt too young. To lie in her chamber seemed the act of a usurper.
Hester’s quarters were quite another matter; I’d slept there oft enough in my infancy, and in my youth on nights I fretted and was forlorn. Since earliest memory she’d bathed me, clothed me, bound my scrapes, dried my tears. After Mother died she smuggled Elryc out of Stryx and put up with my endless tantrums on the journey to her familial farm. When we parted roads, she boldly steered her ungainly wagon to Verein, to ferret out her baby Pytor’s whereabouts. At Cumber, where I’d gone to be crowned, she reappeared, Pytor’s corpse in her wagon, her wits unhinged.
Breathing hard from the stairs, I knocked softly. No answer. I knocked harder.
A harsh rasp. “Put the tea by the door. I’ll fetch it anon.”
“Yes, madam.” I made my voice shrill, like a housemaid’s.
A chair scraped. In a moment the door creaked open. “What raillery is—”
Warily, we regarded each other.
Hester’s gray shawl was wrinkled but clean, frayed but serviceable. Her hair was wild, as if she gave it no thought. I could hardly say she’d aged; when I’d first laid eyes on her, she was older than the hills.
Her rheumy eye half-closed in a scowl. “What great overgrown boy is this?”
I found myself bowing, the respectful bow of youth to elder, one I’d never in my life afforded her. “Roddy, my lady. Have I leave?” My tone was uncertain; some tremor caught at my speech.
“Not Roddy; that clod would shoulder me aside to root for sweets in my larder.” Whatever she may say, she was aware who stood before her, and we both knew so.
Collapsed at her feet. Wondering if I too had lost my wits, I set my back to her, leaned against her knees, as had been my wont before I grew lanky and disdainful. “I’ve missed you, madam.” I closed my eyes, yearning for a clawed hand on my shoulder, for a proffer of tea, for her acid disapproval of love, knowing they were forever lost.
For a while, I said nothing.
“It’s few enough visitors climb the stair. One morn they’ll find my corpse under the covers, and there’ll be end to it.” A sigh. “Since Elryc left, and Pytor ...” A creak, as she shifted. “There’s naught fills the chamber but dreams.”
“When war’s done, I’ll visit every—”
“Child, see why Marta dawdles with my tea.”
“Aye, madam.” I jumped to my feet. By her fireplace there was no pot, no mugs. Was Hester properly tended? If not, I’d turn the castle over. I raced down the stairs, made my way to the kitchen, demanded tea and sweet pastries. They scurried about; it wasn’t often the king played housemaid.
Scant moments later, I was back up the stair. I set the teapot in the embers, busied myself with a mug and the crushed leaves. When all was ready, I poured and resumed my place.
She sipped. “War’s changed you, Roddy.” Her voice was tart, as of old. “Or is it the coronet?”
“War, and ...” How could I explain. “I’ve lost so many comrades. Uncle Raeth, and Imbar. Soldiers I sat at fire with, and held for the surgeons.” No, that was a lost dream. “And Rustin too, for a time.”
“For that, I pitied you.”
“It wasn’t so bad,” I managed. “I tried to—it was lonely, but—really, I—”
A withered claw brushed my shoulder. “I’ve seen your tears. Set them free.”
“It’s not—he’s back, I have no reason to—just hold me, Nurse.” I rocked to and fro, bewildered at my misery.
“The road is exceeding narrow, young King, and hacked from a cliff. You guide your mount along its perilous way. Above you, sheer stone. Below—”
I twisted round. “Hester?” In a moment, her mind had flown.
“—below, a sheer drop to the rocks. So you go on, because there’s no turning. Stop staring as if I’m daft!” Her sharp nails squeezed me in painful warning. “You go on, along that cliff road of life, until you slip off the edge. You can’t turn back, no more than I!” Her clouded eyes near overflowed. “Oh, the Return works after its fashion, but even that Power can’t bring you to what was.”
I nestled my cheek on her bony, veined hand.
“No more than it can transport me to when you were a tot, and Elena young and strong, to when I held you and rocked you and ...” Silence.
I turned, to see damp cheeks, eyes staring to distance.
“Ah, Roddy, that’s the way of it.” A brisk pat. “Up, foolish boy, the floor is chill.”
“Yes, Nurse.” I slipped onto the bench, put chin on hands, studied her across the table. “If we can’t go back, I’ll make our road as smooth as it may be. You’ll have tea, and a chambermaid all day, and—”
“Don’t prattle. You come alone. What of her?”
“Who, Nurse?”
“That auburn-haired, starry-eyed beauty who moons for you. Oft enough she’s climbed the stair alone; why not with you?”
“We quarreled.” I blushed. “I’m about to seek her.”
“So you hide beneath my skirts.” She brushed them smooth, as if to thwart me. “Willem’s a fool, to let her slip out the gate. One day they’ll seize her.”
“How know you ...”
“Have I not eyes? Does not my window look down on the wall?”
“You miss little.”
“I miss my boys. Where are they?”
I said gently, “Pytor’s dead, madam.”
“Yes, sometimes I know. Where’s Elryc, that he doesn’t dog your heels?”
“He’s safe.” I told her of the refuge Larissa of Soushire had provided.
Hester stiffened. “And so you left him?”
“We rode hard, and he began to sicken. Our lives were at hazard and—”
“Oaf!” Rising, she swept her mug to the floor, where it smashed on the planks. “Great blundering fool! Marta! MARTA!” She hobbled to the door. “Where’s that lazy—”
“Hester, what would you?”
“A wagon, or failing that, a gentle mare. I’ll hobble where you fear to tread.”
I scurried to the door, barred the way. “Nurse, please! If I’ve done wrong, tell me—”
“Done wrong? You’ve killed your brother!”
“Heard you not a word I—”
“You rest on Larissa’s oaths, you who wriggle through them like a mouse through a knothole! Have you no sense? Oh, my Elryc!” She snatched a cloak from the hook, her stick from its nook by the door. With its end, she prodded my ribs. “Out of the way!”
I held my ground. “Why would Larissa betray me?”
“Why would she not? What beyond that laughable oath secures her loyalty?”
“Groenfil’s surety. They’re fond of—beyond fond, I think they cohabit—”
“Knew you a whit about rutting, you’d not be so simple! Glare more, and I’ll wipe your face clean!” Sharp-nailed, bent fingers hovered near my cheek.
An awful harridan, and I loved her. I swallowed. “Where ought I have sent him?”
“To me!”
“I could not; Stryx was in the hands of—”
“Sarazon, the monster. The terrifying brute who ran yowling into the night at first peril. For fear of him, you abandoned Elryc. Did you not swear to value your brother above your crown?”
“And I do still!”
“Then keep him by your side!”
“Aye, Madam!” Mother at her most imperious couldn’t have cowed me more. With honeyed words, I coaxed and wheeled Hester out of her cloak, into her chair. I swept the shards of her mug, poured another, promised I’d send for Elryc the moment we knew the roads clear. At that, I’d have to keep a sharp eye on the stables; she was perfectly capable of commandeering a cart and setting out on her own.
“Is there anything else, Nurse?” I paused at the door.
A sigh. “Go to your woman.” She snorted. “Lady of the Hill, indeed. Elena would pull her hair.” But her tone was benign. Then, as I left, “Send up Pytor, it’s time for his rest.”
I changed my tunic before seeking Tresa; Hester had wilted the one I wore. I need not take Nurse’s worries all that seriously; if Groenfil and Rustin were content, I ought be. But nonetheless, her fierce loyalty to Elena’s sons warmed my heart. Tresa herself let me in, leaving me to wonder if any servants at all attended her. She raised an eyebrow. “It took you long enough.” A note of mischief in her tone.
“I know not what to say. It’s our usual mode of discourse.” I girded myself. “My lady, if I may inquire ...” Just say it, Roddy. “When I asked your hand, it was with the promise this vile scar would be gone. I assumed you felt the same. But today ... outside ...” I licked my lips, not quite daring to repeat what I’d heard. “What say you of it?”
“That it matters not.”
“Can you truly mean that?”
“Oh, Roddy, it hurts you so.” She came to me, ran a gentle finger from eye to chin. Barely, I did not cringe. “I hate your disfigurement for what it makes you feel. But in no other way.”
“But I ... looking at it, can you ... if I were fat and smelled of garlic, you’d find no attraction. As grotesque as I am, how can you not ...”
“If I were scarred, you’d turn away?”
“I think so.” I reddened. “You see, I’m callow and stupid. If I knew you not, I’d be repelled.”
“But knowing me?”
I cried, “How can I not love you?”
“But
surely I couldn’t think the same. I’m only a woman.”
I faced her, took a daring step closer. And another. “Don’t toy with me. I toss and turn the night through, yearning for you. Almost I regretted saving Rust’s life, for your loss. Always I’ve assumed that, thanks to Mar’s work, you were beyond me.”
“I called myself consort. Shall I cease?”
“No, my lady. Be my consort.” I looked about, so muddled I feared looking foolish; I got down on my knees. “I beg you, Tresa, confirm you’ll be my wife, damaged as I am.” I managed to hold her gaze without flinching.
“Do get up! I said I’d have you as husband, not bondsman.” Her eyes were merry. “Kiss me.”
Our lips met. Arms around her, I closed my eyes, marveling in my fortune. Suddenly her tongue moved past mine. A tingle, and more. I squawked, broke free, propelled myself backwards until I slammed into the wall. “What—why did—Tresa!” I wiped my mouth.
“Yes, my liege?”
“That’s not—no lady would—where did you learn that?”
Her look was demure. “Did it not please you?”
“No! Well, it startled—yes, but—stop laughing, I command it!”
“I don’t ... I’ll try not to, but—there, I’ve stopped, you see? Have you never been kissed?”
“Not like that!” I twisted in an agony of embarrassment. “I’ve only groped one girl, a servant named Chela, and she was nearly the ruin of me. I’ve had to hold myself—oh, Lord of Nature, I must go. Your leave, Lady.” But she caught my arm, whirled us around so she barred my way to the door. “You promised to stop laughing.” My tone was accusing. Then, “Where did you learn such a thing?”
“In Cumber, there was a captain of me guard. We’d walk the parapet ... are you appalled, my liege? Should I be as innocent as you? Then what, on our wedding night?”
Almost, I demanded, “Are you virgin?” but at the last moment came to my senses. I stumbled to a bench, put head in hands. I tried to picture our first night, but my mind shied away. What else might Tresa know, that I barely dreamed of? I’d have to ask Rustin, as a youngsire might his father. And if he too laughed, I’d need jump off the high tower.
“Here, my love.” She bent to me. “Just a kiss. No surprise.”
Again, her lips met mine.
The King (Rodrigo of Caledon Book 2) Page 48