I tried to redeem myself. “I was the one heard them, and gave warning.” Genard appeared with a fresh bucket, panting.
“Yes, of course. Leave it, Rustin, and see to Hester. Put a cold cloth to her forehead.”
“I was reaching for my knife when-” No use; they clustered around Hester’s inert form.
Only Elryc cared that I lived or died. I sighed, rested my head against his.
My brother stirred. “Were they Uncle Mar’s men? No, keep holding me.”
I returned my hand to his shoulder. “Unarmed, with clubs? No, if it were Mar, we’d be mincemeat.”
He shuddered. “I’m afraid of dying. I want to grow up.”
My lips formed the words “So do I,” but I didn’t speak them.
I sat with Elryc. Rustin ignored me. To recall his attention I asked, “What of Chela?”
“I think her ribs are broken. Pray that Hester lives; she’ll know what to do.”
In that case, let Hester join her sister in the earth. After a time, my jealousy eased. Nurse had saved Elryc, as I should have. She deserved to live, perhaps more … I set Elryc down on the grass, patted him, took a few steps into the dark.
Perhaps more than I.
All night they bathed Hester’s temple with cold water, but though she stirred and muttered, she didn’t wake. Fostrow bade Rustin tear strips of cloth, and together, they bound Chela’s ribs tight. It was what he’d seen done to soldiers, he said, and sometimes it worked.
We tried to make a fire, but the wood was damp, and it sizzled and smoked fitfully. We huddled round nonetheless, drawing comfort more from each other’s nearness than its warmth.
Rustin covered Chela with blankets, squeezed beside me, tentatively put his hand on my shoulder. I flung it off. After a moment, he went to sit next to Fostrow. For a time I doubted myself, but my anxieties faded with the night, and as dawn approached I recalled that though none might acknowledge, it was I who’d given the alarm. On what I’d done after, I didn’t dwell.
By the light of morning all of us, save the two unconscious women, gathered in the cottage to stare at the blood-soaked form that lay stiffening on the sooty floor.
“Who was it?” Genard.
Before I could answer Fostrow said, “They’ll know in town. He was local. Sandals, not boots, and he wears homespun breeks.”
I yawned, irritable, cold, and tired.
Rustin. “Dare we go into Fort, with death on our hands?”
Fostrow’s mouth was grim. “This isn’t an assault on the miller, lad. The dead man came to us, to do evil.”
“But he’s one of them. Who would disclose his name?”
“The Ritemaster.” I spoke without thinking. Rust shot me a curious glance, which only annoyed me the further. I said, “I met him. He’s honest.”
“Fetch him, Roddy. I would, but I ache too much to ride.”
“Send a servant!” I turned away. “Who are you to order me about?”
“Easy, lads.” Fostrow’s voice was oil. “We’re all tired and hungry.”
“Rustin forgets his place, as do you! I’m the Prince of Caledon. You owe me respect!”
“Ah. Yes, well. That’s as may be. I’ll be back presently. Genard, help me saddle, there’s a boy.”
While we waited Rust did his best to tend the injured. I sat against a tree, arms folded, waiting for anyone to dare oppose me. But Elryc and Genard occupied themselves elsewhere, and Rustin ignored me entirely. Churlish behavior, entirely fitting of him.
Within an hour Fostrow returned, followed by Aren Ritemaster on a mule. The old man glanced at the body, sighed. “Korell of Creek’s Farm. His wife was frantic this morn.”
Fostrow scratched his grizzled head. “Who were his henchmen?”
“That I can’t know.”
“Was he friendly with the miller?”
“Friendly? I can’t say anyone is that. He had dealings with Danar, as any plowman must.” Aren scratched idly, went to the door. We followed.
Outside, he turned, squinted at the women’s pallets. “What’s been done for your injured?”
Rust shrugged helplessly. “The girl’s ribs are stove, and there’s no more we can do. The old woman is knocked senseless.”
“I am not.” Hester stirred. “Though I’m too dizzy to sit.”
“Hester!” Elryc scurried to her side.
“No sniffling. Help me up, and find me drink.” She scowled at the smoke-blackened cottage. “How bad is it?”
“Not so bad as it looks,” said Fostrow. “The beams are lightly scorched, and can be planed clean. You’ll need new thatching.”
“Who did this?”
I said, “Danar.” I overrode Fostrow’s objection. “You know it true, as well as I. Bring the miller here; have him look on his handiwork.”
Aren’s face was reproving. “It’s a grave charge you’d level, youngsire. Moreover, Danar’s gone to Shar; he left last noon.”
“It’s but a short ride.” I should know; I’d made it myself, three days past.
“He has mules, but no fine stallion such as your black. And doubtless some townsmen will have seen him there, of the night.”
“Doubtless.” Fostrow’s voice dripped scorn. “So then, Ritemaster. We’re to do nothing?”
“You wish to accuse the miller. Can you be sure it was he? If not, a false charge warrants imprisonment.”
I flared, “Who else would burn us out? Who has cause?”
“Why, for that matter, would Danar? The word is he refused your demands, and matters were at rest.”
“Thanks to the cowardice of my companions.” I didn’t hide my disgust; their irresolution had brought us to this.
It brought a sudden silence, which Genard was the first to break. “You speak of cowardice, Prince?”
Rust nudged his ribs. “Don’t.”
“Who was it hid under a table while we fought for our lives? Who wouldn’t go back inside to free Elryc, or bring out our gear-”
Rustin cuffed him, rather hard. “It’s not your place to chide Rodrigo!” I waited for Rust to deny the boy’s calumnies, but he did not.
Aren knelt by Chela. “You’ve bound her; that’s the best you can do. After a time, though, you must make her sit, else her breath will dwindle. As for Korell’s death, Lord Cumber will be informed, and we will obey his commands.”
Genard rubbed his face, stuck out his tongue at Rust. When no one looked, he shot me a look of venom that shattered my restraints. I advanced on him, pulling loose my dagger.
Rustin caught my arm. “Do no violence, Roddy.”
“Let me go!” I almost broke free, but failed. “He’ll recant his lies or-”
“No!” Rustin twisted my hand, wrested away the knife. “Don’t shed his blood for speaking truth!”
I staggered, as if from a blow. “I-how could-Rustin!”
“I was loath to say it, and Genard hadn’t the right. You force me.”
“Where’s your loyalty, your honor?”
“To the truth.” His eyes were sad, but his hand fell on my shoulder. “Roddy, I’m sorry-”
“Damn your traitor blood! Llewelyn’s no worse than you!” I tore loose. “I hate you!”
Hester tried to raise herself, sank back. “Roddy, calm yourself long enough for us to-”
“I hate all of you!” I dashed across the yard, into the fallow field, along the line of trees to the brook.
I risked a glance behind.
No one followed, and I felt the more betrayed.
I spent most of the day alone by the stream, until hunger drove me back. Nobody objected when I helped myself from the stewpot. After, to assert my place, I left my bowl for Genard or another servant to clean.
That night Rustin and Fostrow took turns on guard duty. In the morning, they drew aside with Hester and conferred a long while. I grew restless, but pride prevented me from demanding admittance. Instead, I went for a long walk by the icy stream.
When I returned, they were w
aiting.
I took a place at the end of the table, as befit my rank. They glanced at each other; Rustin broke the silence. “We’re going to Cumber.”
“Oh?” I raised an eyebrow.
“For Elryc’s sake, we must.”
Hester added, “The Earl’s disdainful, but not unkind, in the end. This is no fit place to raise Prince Elryc, if the villagers attack us. And Chela needs warmth, good food, nursing we can’t give.”
“You’d go to Uncle Cumber as beggars?” My gesture encompassed the table, our soiled and meager clothes. “Think you he’d entertain my claim as heir, if a bedraggled troop of-”
Rust shot back, “What choice have we? Matters go from bad to worse; would you next pawn the crown? If Cumber’s generous, he’ll put us up for the winter. While Tantroth roams we’ll be safe behind his walls.”
“He’s on the Council!” My shout stirred Chela; waking, she moaned, tried to shift position. Genard, in the corner, crept to her side. “What lever have I to gain his vote, if I come to him as supplicant?”
“What of Elryc’s life, if we do not?”
“This is about my life, not Elryc’s! Imps take him!”
The door swung open. Elryc stood framed in the entry, pale of face. “Don’t flee to Cumber, on my account. I’ll stay.”
“Elryc, I didn’t mean-” I swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
Hester slapped the table with her palm. “We go.” Her glare favored us all equally. “I, at any rate, and Elryc with me.
I snarled, “I’m head of the House of Caledon.”
Elryc said, “Please, Roddy. You have them at their wits’ end; they know not what-”
“You betray me too, brother? So be it; I’ll live well enough alone!”
“Oh, Roddy.” Rust rested his head in his arms.
“Hester, I forbid your going!” There; the gauntlet was thrown.
Her crooked finger drew bead at my eye. “Enough of your selfishness. You’ve made our lives torment.”
“How dare you!”
The old woman growled, “The boy’s not born who’ll forbid my rearing Elena’s child! Cross me at your peril, Princeling!”
Something in her eyes recalled the hallway outside her chamber at Stryx, and the knife that pricked my belly. “Then go to Cumber, swim in the lake of fire, if you will! I hope you burn.”
Fostrow. “You can’t travel alone, Dame Hester. Who knows where Tantroth’s patrols roam, or how venomous the miller’s hatred?”
“She won’t be alone.” Rustin’s eye was fixed on the table. “I’ll go with her.”
“Traitor!” My voice was hoarse.
“Come along, Roddy.” Rust’s tone was beseeching. “You vowed your aid to Elryc, and we shouldn’t separate.”
“Then stay!”
“I can’t abandon them, Roddy. You have the bit between your teeth; there’s no talking to you. Elryc, at least, I can protect, and Dame Hester. If you like, I’ll ride directly back.”
I no longer cared what I said. “Protect them? You’ll run at the first sign of-no, better yet, you’ll go over to Tantroth at the first sight of a patrol. Like father, like-”
Rustin shot to his feet, white-faced.
I kicked aside my chair, strode to the door. Elryc was in the way; I thrust him aside. “Demons curse the lot of you! Begone! Throw yourselves on Cumber’s mercy; I’ll laugh when he heaves you in his cells to await Uncle Mar.”
“Roddy-Prince Rodrigo …” Fostrow’s look was apologetic. “I’m sworn to you, and I’ll return when I may.”
“You’re no longer my man. I won’t have you. Lord of Nature curse the day I met you!”
Hester. “Roddy, don’t-”
“Leave, in the morn! I’ll be gone soon after, the world’s a wider place than a foul hamlet under an ice-swept mount. May you all burn in the demons’ lake!” I slammed the door with a satisfying crash.
I spent the night bedded under the wagon. Once, in the night, Rust came to me, but I hurled rocks at him until he fled back to the cottage. Only Ebon heard my sniffles, listened to my muttered vows of revenge.
Chapter 18
By the first light of dawn I was up and about. my limbs ached from the cold hard turf. I bridled Ebon. From the saddlebags I took the clothes Rustin had loaned me, threw them on the wagon with a grandiose gesture that, unfortunately, none were present to see. If Rust was to desert me, let him take all that was his.
I wrapped the crown in a tattered old cloth, packed it in my saddlebag. For good measure, I took also the half-sword. Hester would travel with a party large enough to protect each other; I would have nothing but dagger and sword.
Before anyone in the cottage arose, I swung atop Ebon, galloped off toward town. I would stay out of their sight until Hester’s farm was again abandoned. Then I’d go back to the hut, make my plans.
For once the market square was occupied, but faces turned away as I rode into view. I fingered the silver coin in my purse, the lone remaining pence from the price of Rustin’s sword. Already I was hungry, but I bided my time. The coin would have to last long.
Could the impoverished farmers in the market even make change for my silver pence? If not, would they sell me their goods without, and let me keep the coin ’til it could be exchanged?
I sighed. Life was complicated, when you had to organize it from the start.
Night would be cold, but I had my blankets, and could set a huge fire in the hearth. I had no axe, but there was enough deadwood lying about. It would be nice to send Genard to pick an armful, but he too would be gone, spiteful wretch that he was.
I realized I’d been thinking of the cottage as home. Well, for the moment, it was. Perhaps I could stay here until word came from Stryx, and I knew how went the struggle for Caledon. It would be better had I means to hire servants. Someone to cook, to gather wood, to fetch water.
What I needed was coin. Unless I sold Ebon-quite out of the question-I had no source, save the one I hoarded. I reached to my saddlebag, unwrapped the crown of Caledon, placed it on my head. No law forbade crowning myself, not waiting for the Seven to declare me. But I’d forgo the Still. Yet, would I need it? I sighed. I’d have to fight Uncle Mar as well as Tantroth. And who’d rise to follow me, against their two mighty armies?
No, I had to wait for my chance, and in the meanwhile endure poverty.
Of course, there was coin in Fort. And I knew who had it.
Danar.
I walked my stallion along the familiar trail to the mill, scheming. I decided it would be best to dismount near the road. I tied Ebon to a tree, left the sword on his saddle, sauntered the rest of the way on foot. Were anyone to ask, I was out for a morning ramble. Why I strolled here, instead of at the cottage, was another matter.
The wheel turned with its customary clatter and splash. One of the miller’s men climbed the porch, went inside. Did Danar keep his treasure in the mill, or his cabin? He’d want to sleep near it, for safety. That meant I’d have to break in, put down whatever enemy arose.
A woman’s face passed in front of the window. I ducked behind a tree, my heart pounding. Still, I’d have to draw near; it would be folly to attack the house without some inkling of what I’d face. I put on an innocent look, wandered a few steps closer.
The place was much larger than Hester’s cottage, and sturdily built. Several rooms. From the look of it, I’d-
A mighty blow, in the small of my back. Paralyzed, I pitched headlong, gasping for breath. A leering peasant face. A shovel, raised high to strike again. Instead, the churl lowered the spade, seized me, hauled me to the mill.
“Danar, look what I found!”
The miller came out, wiping his hands. His eyes lit at the sight of me. “He came to us? What convenience, Jom. Bring him in.”
“Let me go! I’m-” A fist knocked the breath out of me. They dragged me inside, held me against an oaken post, tied my hands behind it before I recovered from the blows.
Grinning, Danar whipped out a knife
. He flourished the blade under my chin. “Open your mouth!” The point of the blade lurched closer.
I cried out, twisted my wrists against the rope with desperate strength. All to no avail.
“Stick out your tongue!” The knife flicked.
Frantic, I did as he bid. Instantly his fingers snatched my tongue, held it within my mouth. I gagged at the reek of garlic, and the rough fingers half down my throat.
I tried to bite, but he held my mouth too wide. “You come to our village from a far place, and call me thief? I’ll cut it out at the root!” The knife wavered. I squealed.
Jom said uneasily, “Danar, take care.”
“Hear, boy? Any more talk about my stealing coin from that demented old woman and-” The knife sliced at air. I screeched, staring transfixed at the nicked and scarred blade. He laughed with the pleasure of it. “You won’t be telling any more lies, then, or ba, ba, ba, you’ll say. Nothing else!”
His grip tightened, and he pulled my tongue half out. I screamed from the pain of it.
Danar paused, as if reflecting. “No, best if I slit your throat, and make an end to it. Jom will throw what’s left of you into the river.”
Blood from my lacerated wrists made my fingers slippery, but the rope would not give the merest trifle. My tongue frozen in his iron grasp, I begged and pleaded with my eyes.
Jom said, “Please, Danar. He’ll heed, now. Look, he’s soiled himself.”
“A coward as well.” Danar let go my tongue, slapped my face so hard my head whipped to the side, and ground against the post. My cheek went numb. “All right, Jom. Let him go, before the reek of him spoils my wheat.”
A moment later, feet dragging like a rag doll, I felt myself half carried to the porch. A great kick sent me tumbling down the steps to the moist earth below. I lay stunned.
Behind me, the door slammed.
Holding my oozing mouth, I looked up into the wide eyes of a toddler. She picked her nose gravely. Footsteps. The mother hurried across the yard, snatched her child, disappeared into the house.
I tried to stand, couldn’t manage it. Nonetheless, I had to remove myself, lest they come out and find me. I crawled along the path, mewling and whimpering, until a tree barred my way. Using it as a crutch, I staggered to my feet.
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