“Fare thee well, sir.”
“And thou, my King.”
Uncle Raeth stood watching until our long column plodded from sight.
We made our way to Groenfil, where I repeated my little play. I knew the Earl would join me; Mar had little to offer him, and my ranks had swelled with deserters from Verein. If rumors were afoot that I treated with demons, I paid no heed.
After receiving the Earl of Groenfil, we rode to Soushire. The Lady Larissa rode out on a white palfrey. I proclaimed my cause and set my standard in the earth. We bickered on how many defenders she’d leave behind, and, at length, turned west toward Stryx.
It was then that we had envoy from Tantroth, Norduke of Eiber. He asked my indulgence, and a parley. I took counsel of Rust, Elryc, and my ancestors, and only when I had their agreement did I give consent.
Tantroth rode alone into my camp under truce, to beg alliance. Now that he had no home, he would reaffirm the vassalage he’d mocked. I smiled at the irony, but only to myself.
I thought long, and agreed. I made him swear mighty oaths of fealty, that he would doubtless break when it suited him. In the meanwhile, he brought six thousand men to my standard.
So it was, that scarce twenty days after I’d cowered in Mar’s cell, I sat on Ebon, my thigh still aching, at the head of a respectable column. Bright banners fluttered in the breeze. Behind us the horse troops waited patiently, baking and freezing in the winter sun. Farther back, infantry stood at march ready, ten abreast. Behind them, lost from view, were our wagons stuffed with the produce of Cumber, of Groenfil, of Soushire, surrounded by more horse, and a corps of infantry.
Only from the bastion of Stryx could the Norland be defeated. First I must drive the coastal invaders into the sea. Then I must turn to the usurper Mar, who sat in Mother’s seat.
Night after night, when I woke in abject terror, thinking myself still in my cell, and clung to Rustin, weeping, I’d formed the resolve that guided me. I would wrest my castle from Duke Margenthar, or die in the attempt. I would not turn back, and I would not be taken.
Tresa was lost to me. At Cumber, she’d come, day after day, to beg pardon, but I would not heed. I couldn’t bear pity, especially from her. Perhaps someday I’d know a woman. I still writhed in my virginity, and knew the shame of sideways glances, jests I could not be allowed to hear. I would bear it as long as I must.
I looked to my left: to the Baron Anavar, to Elryc, with his faithful Genard a row behind, to my lord Earl Groenfil at the last of the row. To my right sat Rustin of the keep, then fat Lady Soushire, and Tursel of Cumber. Just behind, with his three captains, Tantroth, late of Eiber.
I gave signal, and we rode at the walk, row by row, down the long winding road to Stryx.
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-afa338-ed4e-894f-9d8d-548a-4f69-efb665
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 19.09.2013
Created using: calibre 0.9.36, Fiction Book Designer, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6.6 software
Document authors :
David Feintuch
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