The Still

by David Feintuch

  “It’s not beyond possibility.” His smile vanished as he saw my expression. “What troubles you, my prince?”

  “Cumber.” I twisted my fingers. “You haven’t dined at Stryx as I have, when he came to visit Mother. The Earl’s ... well, haughty. That simpering valet accompanies him everywhere, and the two of them turn up their noses at everyone. We can’t go to him as beggars.”

  Rust waited patiently.

  “He’s allied with Mar, on the Council, and thinks little enough of me. If we stumble into his domain without even food to sustain us, he’ll have no grounds to think I’ll ever gain the crown.”

  “Roddy, we have no choice; we’re destitute. Later, we can—”

  “We have means. Excuse me for interrupting. There’s coin that’s rightfully ours. I want us—don’t look at me that way, Rust, I beg you. Hear me out.”

  He sighed. “Go on.”

  I told him my plan.

  After, he sat silent, his legs swinging from his perch. “Interesting. But why?”

  “He owes us. And besides—” I broke off, looked to the ground. “Honor is involved.”

  “How?”

  “Don’t ask, I beseech you.” My ears reddened. “It’s something I want never to speak of. Rustin, trust me this once.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Did Danar hurt you?”

  “I ... not really.” I scuffed my feet. “In a way. It’s just—please, Rustin!”

  Again he pondered, while I waited in an agony of impatience. Then, “All right.”

  My heart leaped.

  “Your words convince me less than your manner. Not unless you were certain would you take such pains to persuade me. Not to Queen Elena herself did you show such courtesy as today.”

  “Thank you.” My tone was humble.

  He clasped me round the shoulder, hugged me as we walked. “At times I’ve hope for you. Hester, a change of plans. Fostrow, we must ride back. You, I, and Roddy.”

  “But, why?”

  “A certain matter left unattended. Hester, would you tarry here, or drive on? Should Elryc ride with us, or remain underfoot?”

  She scowled. “Do you lead this party, Rustin son of Llewelyn?”

  “No, madam, but I must leave you, for some hours. What is your pleasure?”

  Another frown. “Honeyed words of a transparent boy.” Yet, sighing, she got down from the wagon. “Elryc, gather more kindling. I’ll be wanting tea while we wait.”

  I was fortunate in wearing Rustin’s loose clothes on the journey back to Fort, else my chafed thighs would have been in agony. As it was, I endured intense discomfort, made worse as the leagues mounted.

  Still fatigued from my sleepless nights and wild ride to find the cart, I let Rustin set our pace. By day, the forest seemed harmless; imaginings add spice to a night passage.

  Nonetheless, by midafternoon, when we paused on the ridge overlooking Fort, I was twisting sorely in the saddle, easing the pressure on my groin and buttocks at every opportunity.

  “Not much farther, my prince.”

  “There’s the ride back.” My tone was gloomy.

  “But we might have coin to cheer the journey.” Rust held out his hand. “The half-sword, if you please.”

  Reluctantly, I unbuckled it. “I’ve a good lunge. Couldn’t I—”

  “No.” He waited until I’d handed it over. “You’ll carry the stick.”

  Disconsolate, I unlaced Fostrow’s walking stick from my saddle. No fit weapon that, for a prince royal.

  “You’ll have your dagger as well.” If he meant it as consolation, it failed. Little good my dagger had been, when Danar’s man had felled me.

  A half hour later we paced our mounts through the widened trail that served as Fort’s only street, and turned off to the mill. Rust rode almost to the cabin before dismounting. In the clearing, at the mill’s tie rail, two mules were tethered.

  “Hold your temper, Fostrow, and watch for my lead.”

  “Aye, Lord Rustin.”

  “Prepare yourself, Rodrigo.”

  I retrieved the bundle from my saddlebag, clutched it tight.

  “Now, then.” Rust led us to the porch steps, and up to the mill floor. Hand on his sword, he swung open the door.

  Danar was tending the spinning stone, and having words with two peasants who stood nearby, caps in hand. His man Jom was hard at work sweeping chaff from the floor.

  Danar’s glance lifted; his face tightened at the sight of us. “Jom, call Pern and Vassur. Run along, now.” His words carried over the incessant rumble of the wheel.

  “Aye, sir.” Jom beat a hasty retreat, from a door to the rear.

  “Why come you armed?” If afraid, Danar did a good job hiding it. “Do me harm, fellow, and the town will—”

  “We’ve not come to do you injury.”

  “What then?”

  The rear door burst wide; in scrambled two burly workmen, faces flushed. Jom followed, more slowly. Did I recognize the heavyset one, by his bulk? I tried to imagine him in dark garb, and hooded.

  The two peasants retreated to the wall, edged toward the door.

  Rustin paid them no heed. “Danar, you owe a debt to Dame Hester.”

  “That again? I told you: I’ve not a pence to give her, and owe her less. Say to her—why draw you a sword?” Quickly Danar stepped back among his henchmen.

  “Fostrow, let’s be about it.” Rust took a step.

  “Hold!” Danar’s face had a glint of perspiration, whether from fear or labor I couldn’t yet tell. “You men are witness, if he lays hand on me.”

  Rustin said, “We bring you to the King’s justice.”

  “Hah; what King? Until one’s chosen, there’s—”

  “Now, my lord.” Rustin.

  In nervous haste, I unwrapped the gleaming crown, placed it on my head.

  Rust said, “You are in the presence of Rodrigo of Caledon, Prince and heir! Make you obeisance.”

  The miller’s burly confederate would have bowed, but Danar stayed him with a gesture. “This boy? The one we ...” For a moment his face paled, but he rallied. “Bah! Rue the day that such as he takes the throne. And uncrowned, he wields no authority. These are the domains of our Lord Cumber.”

  My voice was cold. “Seize him.”

  “You can’t! Vassur, Pern, hold them back.” The fat miller sweated freely now. “You’re an outcast. Anyway, you can’t drag me back to Stryx; Fort belongs to Cumber.”

  “Uncle Cumber embodies my crown’s justice. We’ll bring you before him, by force if we must. Or kill you if you flee.”

  Danar licked his lips. “What charge do you lodge? I knew not your rank when—”

  “Your assault on me is of no consequence. We charge you with fraud on Dame Hester, while she was member of the Queen’s Household, and therefore assault on good Queen Elena herself. With arson, to Hester’s cottage.”

  “I was in Shar that day!”

  “This man will say otherwise, I’ll warrant.” I gestured at his accomplice. “When the Earl puts him to question.” I held Danar’s eyes, and assayed a smile. My tension was such that it was surely a leer. It chilled even me.

  Vassur spun and bolted from the room.

  Rust held up a hand. “No matter, my prince. He’ll be found, or be cried outlaw. His goods and land are confiscated, for the fleeing.”

  “Aye. And also the miller’s, unless he comes with us of his own accord.” I looked about, as if calculating the worth of the place.

  “Let these townsmen go.” The miller indicated the two farmers, who stood mesmerized by Fostrow’s flicking sword. “I’ll have your grain tomorrow. This can be resolved—please, have them go.”

  Rust nodded; Fostrow stepped aside.

  The townsmen fled.

  Danar wiped his brow. “A warm day. Surely, my lords, honest men can clear a misunderstanding. Let me review again—”

  “He refuses.” Rust turned to Fostrow. “Seize and bind him. I’ll take stock of the goods and chatt
els.”

  “My lord, please! Let us settle this affair!”

  “Too late. The matter’s before the Earl.”

  For a moment, Danar found his bluster. “Have you warrant?”

  My tone was lofty. “I am warrant; Cumber does the crown’s justice in my name.”

  “It’s not proper, not legal. I’m entitled—”

  “Uncle Cumber doesn’t fuss with niceties, when justice is at stake. Surely you knew that?” I doubted Great-uncle Cumber paid much mind to justice, or anything else, unless his flowerbeds were at issue.

  “My lords, the town has need of me.” Danar’s eye sought a compassionate face. “It’s harvest and the farmers’ grain awaits. Let me settle to the good dame’s satisfaction. She claims she’s sent thirty-six silver pence, over the last nine years time. If I pay—”

  Rustin said, “Treble that would make a hundred eight.”

  “Treble?” The man’s voice shot into the upper registers, as my own was wont, at times of excitement. His face paled, then purpled. “A hundred eight silvers?”

  “Of course not. A hundred twelve. Dame Hester’s, plus one for each of us who served charges against you, and the last to feed the horses.”

  “I haven’t that much in the whole world—” He broke off. “How could you demand three times her claim?”

  “It’s low, I’ll admit. We’ll ask Lord Cumber for five, but as we haven’t yet been put to the trouble ...”

  “My lords, be reasonable!” Danar looked to Jom for support, then Pern.

  “And then there’s the arson.” Rust was relentless. “We waste our time, Danar.”

  “How so?”

  “As you’ve said, you haven’t that much in the world. After all, how could an honest miller accumulate such a treasure? So, make yourself ready; we leave within the hour.”

  Danar licked his lips, turned his gaze from one to the other of us, and back. “Assuming I could—mind you, I had nothing to do with the firing of her cottage—if I could contribute some small measure ...”

  “Treble the cost of repair should amount to, let’s see ...”

  Danar moaned, leaned against a pillar, clutched his chest as if a great force had squeezed his heart. I adjusted my crown, hoping he’d fall to the floor and die. Unfortunately, he rallied. “My lords, have mercy on a poor man.”

  Rust’s tone rang contemptuous. “Mercy is for Lord Cumber to bestow. We but seek accounting.”

  “Treble.” A groan.

  Fostrow said mildly, “Only double, on the repairs to the cottage. It leaves you coin to give to the family of your accomplice who died.”

  “They’re living with Vas—I had no accomplice! I mean, I wasn’t involved—Pern, a chair, and be quick.” The miller’s face was ashen.

  Rust said, “Roddy—my prince—bring him water, if you please.”

  Grumbling, I took a pitcher, went outside to the stream. Here I wore the crown itself, and Rust sent me on errands as if ... I sighed.

  Back in the mill, I handed Danar the pitcher. He grabbed it without seeing me, drank deep. His color began to return. “It’s settled at a hundred, my lords? I’ll want a writing that absolves me of any claim by Hester.”

  Rust’s mouth was cruel. “How can it be settled, miller? You said you hadn’t so much in all the world.”

  “And I don’t. But I’ll borrow, work my life away to free myself from the clutches of that vile witch.”

  I smashed the pitcher from his grip; it shattered on the hardwood floor. “Dame Hester was my nurse, and my brothers’! Speak of her with respect.”

  Rustin interposed himself. “Well said, my prince.” Using his body as a shield from the miller’s sight, he shoved me backward with force. “I pray you, sire, rest yourself on the porch, while we attend to the bothersome details.” His glare made unmistakable his command.

  Nonchalantly, but without delay, I retreated. “Call me when you’re finished, Lord Rustin.” I went outside to fume.

  After a while the three of them came forth, crossed to the house. Rustin took station at the front door, Fostrow at the rear, while the miller disappeared within. A few moments later he emerged bearing a purse, which he handed Rust.

  While Rustin counted, the miller glanced about cautiously, shifting from foot to foot with impatience. “Begone, I pray thee, my lords. If ruffians and brigands find I’ve kept silver in the premises, our very lives won’t be safe.”

  “Surely you couldn’t have more hidden?” Without waiting for answer Rust crossed to the mill, bowed to me low. “We’re ready when it pleases you, my prince.”

  “Now isn’t soon enough.” Proudly, I stalked down the trail, wishing my breeches didn’t chafe.

  We untied our horses, clattered down the road toward the highlands. Once out of sight, we slowed our pace. Finally we reached the road to Shar’s Cross. We stopped, to rest the animals.

  “Let me see.” I held out my palm. Rustin took the fingers of both my hands, made of them a cup, poured in the silver coins. Greedily, I let them tinkle from hand to hand. “A hundred silvers.” Three years stipend; many times the sum Willem had given me that I’d lost to the wasps.

  “Aye.” Rust held open the purse.

  Reluctantly, I poured them back in. “I’ll warrant he had another fifty, hid well. You should have run him through, for the way he spoke of Hester. Why’d you silence me?”

  “You’ve called her worse.” He closed the purse, knotted it on his rope belt, twisted it inside his breeches. “Roddy, we went for coin, not revenge. Is it not so?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “It’s a failing you have. You think more of the moment’s concern than your prime purpose.” His manner was stern.

  I flushed at the rebuke. Who was he, to—I sighed. The vow. “I’m sorry, Rust.”

  “What if he’d gone hard, and let us take him to Cumber? We’d turned his archers and were sweeping the field. It wasn’t time to send the horsemen on a wild new quest.” He softened his words by a sudden and unexpected kiss, on my forehead. “You did well, when you donned the crown. I was proud of you.”

  When his back was turned I wiped the kiss, vaguely uneasy. It wasn’t meet that I hunger so for his praise.

  “Why can’t I carry the purse?” I mounted Ebon.

  Rustin grinned. “I can’t trust you with it.” I had no way to tell if he spoke seriously.

  We trotted together, ahead of Fostrow. “All ends well,” I mused. “Hester will have her recompense, enough to rebuild and furnish her cottage. Half the purse, I should say. And I lost about twenty silvers in the glade.” I calculated. “That leaves thirty.”

  “Fifty.” Rust stayed my protest. “The purse is for our mutual needs. What’s that sullen look? Would you rather the purse, or me? You have the choice.”

  I gritted my teeth, kept my voice meek. “You.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It was a close decision.” I allowed myself that, but no more.

  It was near nightfall when we reached the turn to Cumber. Rust ignored it, swept on toward Shar.

  “Do we stay in the inn?”

  “No.”

  “Then why the town?”

  “An errand.” His lips were tight. Mystified, I glanced to Fostrow, who shrugged.

  At the edge of Shar’s Cross Rustin opened the purse, counted out a few coins, tied them in his shirt, concealed again the purse.

  “Where go we?”

  “The smith.” Rust’s eyes were hard. “He has my sword.”

  I paced alongside. “But the purse is for our mutual needs.”

  “We have need of a sword.”

  “Not so fine a one. For the five silvers he gave me, you can buy—”

  “Roddy, shut thy mouth, as you value life.” His tone brooked no defiance.

  I fidgeted outside, with Fostrow, while Rust negotiated. At last he emerged, sword in scabbard. “It cost me eight.”

  “Outrageous! Think of the food and clothing such a sum would buy.”
>
  Rust’s fist knotted, unclenched. “Have you ever been beaten? I must tell you, my prince, you’re near to the event.” He mounted, wheeled away.

  “Fostrow, what’s come over him?”

  The soldier shrugged. “He’s rather put out with you.”

  “Bah. I knew that much.” I spurred, caught up with Rustin, rode in silence at his side.

  Sometimes, there was no accounting for his moods.

  Chapter 21

  BY THE TIME WE REACHED THE CAMP IT WAS TOO LATE TO TRAVEL, so we made ready for night. Hester took her share of the purse, and walked with lighter step, her face actually dissolving from time to time into a smile. Twice she hugged Elryc, and spoke with less than her customary tartness to me.

  Rust spent an hour with Chela. The girl seemed to be holding her own, despite days in a wagon. Hester had her bundled tight with blankets against the cool night air.

  Over the campfire, we agreed on another trip to Shar’s Cross, to purchase the best available in clothing and supplies, and perhaps a gift or two for Lord Cumber, even though the digression would cost us a day on the road.

  I got ready for bed, after another miserable ordeal at the freezing stream. I’d have left it to the morrow, but Rustin gave me a scathing lecture about smell and dirt and promises, after which I thought it best to comply. After that, I was anxious to curl under my blanket.

  Though I soon fell asleep, imps and demons came in the night to dance their cruel frolic in my mind. I woke in terror, crying, clutching the rolled shirt I used as a pillow. Before my fright subsided Rust was out of bed, blanket wrapped over his shoulders, to soothe me. For reasons I didn’t fathom, I had more tears left in me, and expended them while Rust pillowed my head in his lap, gently stroking my face. It was thus I fell asleep once more.

  Came morning, I felt ill at ease, especially in Rust’s presence. I’d abdicated my manhood to his tutelage, and in the process, I’d revealed far more of myself than was proper.

  After breakfast, Rust conferred with Hester on purchases, while Genard saddled Santree and Fostrow’s mare. To please Rust, I didn’t demand Genard take care of Ebon, but fetched his saddle myself.

  Rust came up behind me, leading Santree. “Roddy, it’s best you wait here while we go to town. They’ll need a man to guard them, if Fostrow and I—”