The King (Rodrigo of Caledon Book 2)

by David Feintuch

  I’ll hear your outrage, someday, in the cave. It was my lot to safeguard my realm, and I did not.

  “Don’t weep, my lord.” Anavar, who’d come alongside.

  “Be silent!”

  “They count on your strength.”

  Not after this day. But I knew better than to say it.

  We rode all the night, into morn. Our mounts were tired, but not spent; we’d kept them at the walk, that we not outdistance our yeomen.

  The roadside environs were wooded, and high with brush. Going was slow, lest there be ambush; our scouts probed every hillock and gully. The birds above were strangely still.

  My hackles rose, but we came on no foe. No matter; it wouldn’t be long.

  At dawn’s rest I took Danzik aside, twisted my thoughts into Norlandic. “Soon, we’ll meet your people ...”

  His face was stolid, unrevealing.

  I said bluntly, “Will you take the occasion to leave us?” It was an honor I did him, not even to question whether he’d turn on us from within our midst.

  “With no farewell?” Danzik seemed astonished.

  I thought long. “Vestreth coa tern?” You would see how it ends? “This is the day we make an end. I’ll fight until Elryc’s freed, or I’m dead.” I grimaced. “I know better than to think we’ll win. So ... farewell, Guiat.” I raised a fist, to tap knuckles, as was their way. “Go to your people.”

  “And find your corpse after, with the scavengers?” He bristled. “I would myself SEE!”

  “Consider. You ride in our second row.” He’d be flung into battle, willing or no.

  Danzik gave a reluctant nod. “Where you want I go?”

  “To the rear, with the wagons. Or in the woods alongside the road.”

  “I’m no coward!” Danzik’s roar could be heard all the way to Cumber.

  “No, Guiat.” I bent, in the short bow of familial respect. “Ride where you will.”

  We’d need to hurry. Before remounting I found Rustin, who stood absently rubbing Orwal’s starred muzzle. “Rust ...” A lump filled my throat. “My lord, my regent, my friend ... have I said I love thee?” Not as he’d wish it, as bed-friends, but of all men living, I treasured no other.

  He swallowed. “My prince, why say you this?”

  “Because it’s true.” And I may have no more chance. And I would die with conscience clear. Briefly, I rested my forehead on his chest. “Would you come with me, sir?” There was one other I must address.

  “My lord earl ...” I found the words hard. “I confess error.” Groenfil eyed me bleakly. “From that, I assume it is my time.” He stood, drew tight his cloak. “Make your confession. Then do what you must.” He hesitated. “Have you axe, if I may ask the boon?”

  I said, “In Verein, Bayard prayed I joust with him for Margenthar’s life. I refused; it was a barbaric custom, rightly discarded.”

  “What of it?”

  “Likewise is our custom of surety of the person. I compounded my fault by weighing you as I might Larissa.” I bowed, a deep bow of respect, youngsire to elder. “I renounce surety, once for all. I pray thy pardon.”

  Groenfil said, “Roddy, don’t toy with me.”

  “I do not. You are absolved of your surety. If I survive this day, I’ll seek out Lady Soushire for her misdeeds. I only ask—pardon my indelicacy—refrain from her company in my camp or presence.”

  “Don’t lie with her, say you? I’d first hurl her from her donjon window!” A gust swirled the branches. “Oh, Rodrigo ...” Groenfil’s tone was forlorn.

  “Pardos, return the earl his sword and lance.” I mounted. “Onward; the Norlanders can’t be far. Rust, why do you look at me oddly?”

  We fast-marched toward Tradesman’s Fork, where one branch led to Soushire, while the other wound through hills and vales to emerge at the borders of Cumber. The latter was a roundabout track; Hriskil would not likely favor it, but if we held the cross, whichever road the Norlanders took they must contend with us. The road we wended was wide enough for perhaps six horses; to our left a rocky field climbed toward the horizon. On our right, the terrain dipped; below us now a wood, sometimes a stony pasture. The road itself rose and fell; the land was rumpled, like an unspread quilt.

  The sun was well-risen. I was a touch annoyed with Anavar, who seemed moody at the attention I lavished on Groenfil, Danzik and Rust. Our cavalry led the column, and I was thinking of sending Anavar to ride with the yeomen. But my ire was a creature of the moment, that died unexpressed. My Eiberian was a friend too long to treat shabbily.

  As we topped a rise, I said gently, “Anavar, know you that—”

  “LOOK, SIR!”

  Before us, the road dipped, and rose again. The far rise was thick with horsemen making their way slowly down the trail. Rustin caught at my reins. “Back, my prince. Put yourself in the center of our column.”

  “But they have Elryc!” I reared in my saddle. “Surprise is our ally. Lances ready!” I raised mine, set it against the brace, looped my shield across the pommel. “Hornsman, be quick. Sound the attack!”

  Rustin snapped, “Pardos, guard him!”

  My bodyguard shouted commands. In a moment his mounted squad had Ebon surrounded.

  The trumpet pealed. My stallion reared. “Go!” I dug in my heels. Ebon shouldered aside a guard’s trembling mount. Snorting, he charged down the rutted road, but no faster than Pardos and his squad.

  Rustin galloped after, a hoof ahead of Groenfil, Anavar and a dozen others. Beyond the dip in the road, Norland horse wheeled, caught in the mire of their mass.

  I had just time to wonder whose mad cries of war echoed in my ears. Ebon found his stride. We sped toward the Norland host. Screaming, I aimed my lance at a Norlander’s breast. I whipped Ebon’s flank. “For Caledon!”

  Around me, a clamor. “CALEDON!”

  I risked a glance behind. Their fatigue forgotten, our cavalry thundered down the road. After them, our pikemen ran at full tilt, weapons at the ready.

  Too late, a Norlander brought up his pike; my point caught him in the chest, hurled him to the dirt. His fall tore my pike from my grip. Ebon’s momentum carried us deep into the Norland line. My sturdy mount plowed headfirst into a dusty sorrel stallion. The animal staggered and fell, crushing its thrashing rider beneath.

  I reared in my saddle, whipped out my sword, slashed left and right while I fumbled to unloop my shield. Anavar came into view, his sword crimson, his eyes wild. A lunge, a jab. A Norlander shrieked. Then Pardos appeared, Groenfil, and a score more. The narrow road dissolved into a bloody, tight-jammed melee.

  Slashing madly at horse and man alike, I dug my way into a twisting mass of tortured flesh. Elryc would be secured in the center of their march, I was sure of it. Once, standing on my stirrups, I caught a distant glimpse of tousled hair that might have been his.

  Our savage attack had caught the Norlanders unprepared; they gave way or died. I pressed ever forward, guiding Ebon from the steep drop to the thickets below. My arm ached from wielding weighty steel. Sweat stung my eyes.

  From the rear of the Norland line, the blare of trumpets.

  A bearded foeman scrabbled in the mud, snatched up a fallen pike. Swinging it like a club, he smashed its blunt side into Anavar’s ribs. With a cry the Eiberian toppled. I gouged Ebon’s flanks. In an instant we stood over my dazed baron. Anavar shook his head, scrambled onto Edmund.

  The bearded Norlander shifted grip, brandished his pike. I raised high my sword. He lunged. I yanked hard at my reins. Ebon heaved. The pike grew shorter. Ebon’s knees buckled; he flung me over his head. I landed on one arm and a leg, but the road was slippery with mud and gore. I staggered, lost my balance. A second Norlander loomed, sword raised high. Rustin roared, hammered aside a foe in desperate attempt to reach me.

  “Look at me!” Bollert tore down the muddy road, arms waving. “Leave ’im alone! Run away!” His eyes were fixed on the swordsman atop me. For a moment the Norlander’s mouth worked. Abruptly, he bolted into
the woods. Bollert spun around. “Run, all you! Leave king ’lone!”

  Behind him, the pikeman wrenched free his weapon, firmed his grip.

  I rasped, “Bollert—”

  The boy turned. The pikeman charged. His point caught Bollert full in the chest, hurled him back, pinned him against a tree.

  Rust reached me, glanced around, hauled me to my feet. “Are you hurt? Where’s Pardos?”

  Trumpets sounded.

  I shook my head. “Not sure. Find Elryc.”

  “Roddy, look out!” From his saddle, Anavar pointed deeper within the Norland column. Whatever he saw was beyond me. A milling mass of men in desperate combat filled the road.

  A rumble of hooves.

  A squad of Norland horsemen burst through the throng. They hurled aside Norlander and Caled alike, swords raised high. Rustin yanked me back, threw himself before me, shield raised.

  I tripped on a rock and tumbled down the hill. Brambles tore at my jerkin. My sword went flying. I rolled over and over, as a child playing in a hilly pasture. A gnarled old tree loomed.

  A smash. White light.

  The world faded.

  “He wakes.”

  A cool compress soothed my temple.

  I groaned.

  “Gently!” The compress was snatched away. A new hand pressed it ever so softly onto my throbbing skull.

  I squinted through half-opened eyes. Rustin’s face was a mask of worry. Behind him, Anavar looked anguished. Danzik’s thick fingers rested on his shoulder.

  “Where’s Elryc?” My voice was a croak.

  Anavar and Rust exchanged glances.

  I need not ask more.

  Gripping Rust’s wrist, I struggled to sit. “What’s become of us?”

  Rust wrapped his arm around my shoulders, eased me to a sitting position. “Do you recall their charge?”

  Dimly, an echo of trumpets floated through my haze. “I heard the call.”

  “From their rear, Sarazon mounted a counterthrust. Five hundred cavalry. They smashed their own line and ours, and cleared the road.”

  Sarazon himself was among us? I thrust it aside. “The battle’s theirs?”

  “Not exactly.” Rust examined my temple, decided to help me to my feet. Together, he and Anavar assisted me up the hill.

  The road was a slaughterhouse. Dead men, gutted horses, overturned wagons, buzzing flies. The usual detritus of war.

  I gulped. “What of our force?”

  “Half are dead.”

  “Full half?” I turned away sickened. No, King. It won’t do. You must look. “Bring Ebon.” I would ride the length of the carnage.

  “He’s gone, my prince.”

  “Well, find him!” Ebon wouldn’t have strayed far.

  Rust’s fingers drifted to my nape, and I knew. My knees went weak, and I fought an urge to settle into the mud. Ebon had been mine since ... since Rustin had gifted me of him, in my unhappy youth. My eyes stung. Fiercely, I battled my sorrow. It is not meet that thou weep for a horse, where men have died for thee.

  “Would you ride Edmund, sir?” Anavar’s voice was soft. I managed a nod. He handed me my lost sword, and I struggled into the unfamiliar seat. Rustin and Danzik walked at either side, while I clung dazedly to the pommel.

  Below, in the dirt, Norls and Caleds locked in final embrace.

  The slaughter stretched to the rise, and beyond. Turning grimly to the stretch of the road we’d occupied, I paced Edmund, careful not to step on faithful men, ours and Hriskil’s. Here and there among the multitude, a face that was familiar. Old Cobat, who’d complain about his stiff joints no more. Tondras of Kier, whom I’d known from Stryx.

  At length, the bloodbath trailed off.

  I turned Edmund, made for the Norland stretch of the road. Ebon lay a dozen paces into the slaughter, eyes glaring, teeth pulled back in a rictus of agony. They’d wrenched the pike from his belly. His entrails spewed. Gritting my teeth, I turned my head as Rustin knelt to secure my precious saddlebags.

  Along the road, scores of Norlanders, as many Caleds. Torn, broken, gutted, decapitated, lopped.

  Pardos lay face down in the mud, throat slashed. My breath came sharp. I swung down from the stirrups, staggered, righted myself. I knelt. “Have peace, sir.” I wasn’t sure if I’d spoken aloud. “Always, I’m impetuous. Your death was my doing.” Gently, I closed his eyes. I made to climb back onto Edmund, but my legs were strangely weak. Danzik lifted me as a father would a tot, set me into the saddle.

  I said to him, “You won.”

  “Think you so?” Holding my reins, Danzik led me down the abandoned road.

  More bodies of Norls, a few Caleds. Across the road lay an older man, heavyset, by his dress obviously an officer. He’d been gutted by a sword. Around him, half a score of dead guards.

  “Who?” I tried to sound as if I cared.

  “Sarazon.” Danzik gazed at the body with dour disapproval.

  I blinked. I ought to feel joy. “Who did it?”

  Rustin said, “After the Norland charge, Groenfil rallied our scattered horsemen. They came down that wooded hill, across the road.”

  “Where is he fallen?”

  Rust looked startled. “The earl? He’s not. He’s gathered our men to form a rear guard, lest the Norlanders turn on us.” A pause. “I think they won’t. After Sarazon fell, they hacked their way through and were gone as fast as they might.”

  “They left us the field?” I marveled at it. We could call it a victory, were we so callow. “Did you see Elryc?”

  “No, my prince. I was with you.”

  I twisted in the saddle. “Anavar?”

  “No, sir. When you fell down the slope, we rushed to guard you. Even Danzik stood over you, sword in hand. If the thick brush hadn’t hid us ...” Anavar gulped. “No time to look for Prince Elryc.”

  “Faithless vassal!” From the saddle I aimed a cuff at him, barely missed. “Why died we here, if not for Elryc?”

  “For you, sir.” His gaze held mine.

  At length, my shoulders slumped. “I pray pardon.” It was a whisper.

  We resumed our walk. As we returned to the midpoint of the battle I stopped short.

  Bollert sat against a tree, a look of astonishment on his features. A spear pinned him to the trunk. I slid down from Edmund, lurched to Bollert’s still form. “Ah, my poor peasant. My churl.” My fingers flitted to his eyes, closed them. “You died for me, lad. Why? Our cause wasn’t yours.”

  “He would be one of us.” Rustin pried a dagger from the boy’s lifeless hand.

  “And I wouldn’t allow it.” I knelt. “Bollert, if you have forgiveness, if you hear ...” I gave it up. I stared into anguished distance.

  After a long while, I wiped my cheeks. “Let’s find Groenfil.”

  “Hold a moment.” Rust stayed me. “Roddy ... you were right.” His wave encompassed the battle, and the carnage.

  “Was I?” It seemed not to matter.

  Alone among my faithful, I trudged down the grim, muddy road. It twisted and turned, rose and fell. Wood and field, shade and sun.

  Victory and defeat.

  Thirty-nine

  THE CAMPFIRE SIZZLED IN raindrops’ attack.

  None of us spoke.

  Anavar sipped his tea. I let my cup warm my hands. Groenfil, haggard and gray, drained his mug. Danzik watched, brooding.

  I cleared my throat. “I say again: why not pursue them?”

  Groenfil said, “They’re sure to set scouts and guards. They won’t be mauled twice.”

  “And now we’re reduced to a bare five hundred.” Anavar. “Even Elryc’s guard outnumbers—”

  “Yet they fear us.” Had they not turned tail and abandoned the field?

  Rustin stirred. “Another battle? Would you reduce us to bloody shreds?”

  I tried to make my tone reasonable. “I would pursue them as long as Elryc’s not locked in an impregnable fortress.”

  “They have your brother.” His tone was gen
tle. “They mustn’t gain you.”

  “I don’t want the throne on those terms.”

  “Five hundred of us, Roddy. What can we accomplish?”

  “What we might. Your caution does us no good, sir.”

  Rust shook his head. “Nonetheless, I can’t allow it. We must preserve what’s left of our force.”

  Someone threw fagots to encourage the flames. Perhaps I ought to sit at a chill distant fire, and heed mother. I gazed at Rustin, chewing my lip. In my stomach, a knot began to congeal. Abruptly, I lurched to my feet. “I would be alone, my lords.” I stalked into the brush. Beyond, a stream chattered. With Pardos gone, there was none to bar my way. I clambered down mossy stones, and hunched on a rock above the brook, hugging my knees.

  A long while passed, while I contemplated the unimaginable.

  Presently, a sound above. I looked up, my eyes watery. Rustin dropped down, crouched at my side, squeezed my knee. “My prince.”

  “Sir, I’ve been ... thinking.”

  “So I see. What troubles you?”

  I tried to speak, found myself without words, cast about in a vague gesture. After a moment, I tried again to summon my courage. “Rust, when I contended with the Rood outside Groenfil Castle, it was against your wishes.”

  “Yes. Though I’ll grant that you confounded Hriskil and caused his retreat.”

  “And this mom, when we sought the Norlanders on the road, you opposed it.”

  He nodded.

  “Though we near rescued Elryc, and killed Sarazon.”

  “Where do you lead, Roddy?”

  “And tonight, when I would pursue Hriskil’s column ... column ...”

  A muscle pulsed in his jaw. “You risk yourself with abandon, my love. I can’t bear to see it.”

  “Yes, that’s so. But I must risk myself. Know you that?”