by John Marco
‘Good morning,’ said Jojustin sunnily, pouring Richius a mug of the beer and handing it to him. Richius accepted the drink gratefully and sat down. The table was set with stoneware, and at its center sat a small bouquet of winter lilies. Richius eyed the flowers suspiciously.
‘Jenna?’
Jojustin smiled. ‘She’s just trying to make you feel comfortable, lad. Ignore it if you want but don’t say anything. It’d only hurt her.’
‘Of course I won’t. I just wish everyone would stop worrying so much about me. I admit the last few weeks were a little tough but I’m fine now, really.’
‘You are looking better today,’ admitted Jojustin. ‘Sleep well?’
‘Very well, thank you,’ answered Richius, taking a sip from his mug.
‘We got snow last night. Did you see it?’
Richius turned an admonishing stare on Patwin. ‘I saw it. Felt it, too.’
Patwin chuckled. ‘Are you all right, Richius? The side of your face looks a little red.’
‘What’s this?’ asked Jojustin, inspecting Richius’ face from across the table. Richius waved away the old man’s concern.
‘It’s nothing. Just a little accident. Pass the bread, will you please?’
Jojustin passed a plateful of warm honey bread to Richius. The scent of the steaming grains and honey was intoxicating. Richius stuffed a piece of the bread into his mouth and passed the plate on to Patwin, who greedily snatched up two slices.
‘Richius,’ said Patwin between bites. ‘Remember how Dinadin used to always talk about food before going to sleep?’ He turned to Jojustin and went on, ‘Every night he’d tell us about some new specialty of his mother’s. Maybe one night would be roast goose, the next leg of veal. And he’d always tell us just before we turned in. God, it was impossible to sleep after talking to him!’
‘And we’d have nothing but stale army bread to satisfy us,’ said Richius, shaking his head. ‘I remember.’
‘Stale bread?’ came a young, shining voice. ‘That bread’s as fresh as the snow outside. What’s wrong with it?’
Richius looked up into Jenna’s brown eyes. ‘The bread’s fine, Jenna, really. It’s wonderful.’ He peered up into the plates of steaming eggs and sausage she was carrying. ‘That looks pretty good, too.’
She smiled and gave Richius his breakfast first, setting the plate down before him with a flourish. ‘I know how fond you are of sweet sausage, Richius. I had Elena make some up for you special. The way you like it – not too hot.’ She put Patwin’s plate down next. ‘We have to get you back on your feet, fatten you up like this one here.’
Patwin sat up indignantly. ‘It’s fine for you, Jenna. You didn’t spend three weeks riding through Lucel-Lor looking for Richius. I went almost four days once without eating. Why, I was half dead when I finally found him and Dinadin.’ Patwin pointed his fork at Richius. ‘Tell her, Richius.’
Richius glared at Patwin slyly. ‘I can’t recall.’
‘I thought not,’ said Jenna, at last serving Jojustin. ‘Just more of your tall tales, eh, Patwin? Sometimes I think the only reason you stay around here is to get more of my cooking. You look fit enough to me.’
Patwin reached out and lightly slapped Jenna’srump. ‘Fit enough for you and more, girl. Why don’t you go warm up some spice wine for us? Richius has his appetite back today. What do you say, Richius?’
Richius shrugged. ‘Fine.’
When Jenna had gone, Patwin leaned forward to Richius. ‘What did you say that for? Now she thinks I’ve been lying to her. You know I was telling the truth.’
‘Don’t exaggerate,’ said Richius lazily. ‘Of course I know it’s the truth. Jenna knows it, too. She’s just playing with you.’ Then, grinning, he added, ‘Maybe she’s a little sweet on you.’
Patwin sat back, coloring at the suggestion.
‘Personally, I think she’d be good for either of you,’ said Jojustin. ‘And she comes from a hardworking family, so there’s nothing for you to turn your nose up at, Richius.’
Richius grimaced. ‘I haven’t given it much thought.’
‘Well you should. Pretty girl like that. She’d make you a fine wife. You have to start thinking about these things, start thinking like a king.’
The word king made Richius drop his fork. ‘I’m not the king, Jojustin. The only king of Aramoor is my father, and he’s dead.’ He retrieved his fork and started toying with his eggs, drawing little patterns in the yolks. ‘Please stop calling me that.’
‘Richius, listen to me,’ said Jojustin easily. ‘I’ve been avoiding this lately, but you have to face it. You were king the moment Darius was slain. You have responsibilities.’
‘Right now my responsibility is to make sure we’re ready to defend ourselves against Arkus. We have horses to train, supplies to gather . . .’
‘Enough,’ interrupted Jojustin. ‘No more talk of war with Arkus. I sent word to him after your father died. If he was going to send his legions he would have done so by now. Really, Richius, why do you think such thoughts?’
‘We may be talking about treason, Jojustin. Do you really think the emperor is so forgiving? Don’t you think he knows why we lost the war?’
Jojustin looked at him sharply. ‘What do you think?’
Richius sat back. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Why don’t you read your father’s letter and find out?’
There was an expectant silence. Richius felt Jojustin’s eyes burning into him. Patwin had stopped eating. At last he said quietly, ‘I can’t.’ He lowered his fork again and stared down into his plate. The eggs had cooled into rubbery lumps. ‘Why did he do this to me?’
Jojustin slid his hand onto Richius’. ‘He did it to save Aramoor, lad. Maybe it was misguided, but that was his reason. You know how much he loved you. He didn’t abandon you easily. Believe me, I know.’
‘Do you think his reasons were misguided?’
‘Ah, well now . . .’ Jojustin leaned back, choosing his words with care. ‘Your father was always at odds with the emperor. I don’t think he really weighed everything fairly. Aramoor stood to gain considerable favor with Arkus if we’d won the war.’ His expression soured. ‘It would have been nice to unseat Talistan as Arkus’ favorite in this part of the Empire.’
‘Now we’re Arkus’ enemy,’ said Richius sullenly.
‘No,’ Jojustin assured him. ‘I think your father’s death is good enough for Arkus. And I don’t think he wants any more wars, not within the Empire. He’s far too busy fighting Liss to bother with us. He needs a king here. Someone he can depend on to take care of the land. Someone the people will follow.’
‘Someone like you, Richius,’ said Patwin past a mouthful of sausage. ‘Think of it,’ he added theatrically. ‘King Richius!’
Richius frowned. He thought of Edgard’s final words to him, remembered how the old war duke had tried to convince him that Arkus might simply be satisfied by his father’s death. Somehow a Triin assassin had stolen that pleasure from the emperor, but the result was the same. Darius, the thorn in Arkus’ side, the man who had cost him all the untold riches of Lucel-Lor, was out of the way. It was an ugly notion, but conceivable.
‘I can’t believe it,’ concluded Richius finally. ‘If Arkus is planning to make me king, why haven’t we heard anything?’
‘These decisions aren’t made quickly, lad. Arkus has politics to consider. There are a lot of ambitious nations in Nar, countries with kings less honorable than your father. Like the Gayles.’ A shadow of disgust darkened his face. ‘You can bet they’ve been whispering in the emperor’s ear.’
Patwin perked up. ‘Did you hear about Blackwood Gayle, Richius?’
‘What about him?’
‘He’s not dead. Terril talked to someone who’s seen him.’
‘Not dead?’ blurted Richius. They had all assumed Blackwood Gayle had perished with his horsemen at Mount Godon. It was the only bright spot in the whole sordid ordeal. ‘How can that be? Did y
ou know about this, Jojustin?’
Jojustin nodded. ‘I knew,’ he said glumly. ‘I can’t say I’m glad about it.’
‘He’s wearing a mask now,’ Patwin went on. ‘Remember that fire you saw? Well, Edgard wasn’t the only one attacked by it. Gayle’s horsemen got it, too, all the way in Tatterak. They say it took half Gayle’s face off.’
‘Only half?’ growled Jojustin. ‘The bastard should be happy. He was luckier than Edgard.’
‘Alive,’ Richius said incredulously. ‘How could the horsemen have survived it?’
‘That’s just it,’ said Patwin. ‘They didn’t survive. Just Blackwood Gayle.’
‘You mean he left his men behind?’
‘Left them to die like pigs in a slaughterhouse. Almost everyone else was killed except for Colonel Trosk. I heard he made it out, too.’
‘Trosk,’ sneered Jojustin. ‘Now there’s a wretched man. Every bit the butcher Gayle is. I’m surprised they’re not brothers.’
‘I can’t believe it,’ said Richius. ‘To let his men be massacred like that. It’s incredible.’
‘It’s despicable,’ corrected Jojustin. ‘Even for a Gayle.’ He shrugged in disbelief. ‘But fools still follow them, and the emperor still listens to their advice.’
‘They’ve probably told Arkus about my father, then,’ said Richius.
Jojustin nodded. ‘Probably.’
‘Well, if the Gayles know it then the emperor does, too. Why would he even consider letting me rule here if he thinks my father betrayed him?’
‘Arkus has no quarrel with you, lad. As far as he’s concerned you were in Lucel-Lor trying to win the war for him. He may suspect Darius betrayed him, but he has no proof. All he has is the word of those cutthroat Gayles.’ Jojustin smiled slyly. ‘And we all know what liars they are, right?’
‘Right,’ declared Patwin with a conspiratorial wink. ‘Don’t worry, Richius. None of us knows anything.’
‘We’re just going to deny it?’ asked Richius. ‘Pretend it didn’t happen?’
Jojustin’s face hardened. ‘Of course. Arkus can’t prove anything, and that’s the end of it. It doesn’t matter what he might suspect. You are of the royal blood of Aramoor. No one else alive can claim that, and Arkus knows it. Who else would the people follow? Some puppet of the emperor’s? No, Richius. You are king here, like it or not.’
‘Well, I don’t like it. Even when I was a boy I dreaded this day. I’m no king.’
‘Why do you say that?’ asked Patwin. ‘You led us into battle, kept us all alive.’
‘It’s not the same,’ Richius interrupted. ‘And I didn’t keep everyone alive, did I?’
‘Men die in war,’ said Jojustin. ‘That’s the way it is. How many men did you have under your command? Almost five hundred, right?’
‘Only three hundred came back.’
‘After almost a year of brutal battle,’ Jojustin countered. ‘And you were fighting Triin.’ He spat out the word with disgust. ‘The devil’s own.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ said Richius. ‘They’re not devils, Jojustin. They’re men, like you and me.’
‘Not like me,’ said Jojustin defensively. ‘I know what they are. They’re all sorcerers. And they don’t worship God.’
‘They have gods,’ said Richius. ‘Just not our God.’
‘Oh, yes. What do they worship? Snakes? And the Drol are the worst of them. You’re best rid of that place, lad. We should get a priest in here to bless the lot of you.’ Again he slipped his hand onto Richius’. ‘I’m proud of you, Richius. God would be proud of you, too. You’re more of a king than you think. Read the letter. Read it and put all this bad business behind you. You have a kingdom to rule.’
Jenna suddenly returned to the room carrying a decanter of wine. When he saw her come in Richius quickly jerked his hand back. She gave him a long, insufferably sympathetic look.
‘Your glass,’ she said lightly. Richius held out his glass and let the girl pour some of the mahogany liquor into it. He thanked her and she went on to the others, all the while keeping an eye on him as she poured. She finished quickly and left the room, but the silence she left in her wake was palpable.
Lord, thought Richius. She probably thinks I’ve gone mad. He lifted his glass to his lips. Maybe I have.
He drank. The spiced wine was hot, almost unbearably so, yet he kept swallowing until his glass was drained. He was still hungry, but since he had raked his eggs into unappetizing streaks, he reached for another slice of bread.
‘After breakfast I’m riding for Gilliam’s,’ he said. ‘I have to start readying the men if there is to be war again.’
‘Don’t go chasing phantoms, Richius,’ said Jojustin. ‘You’re only going to scare everyone over nothing.’
‘If I’m to be king I have to start looking after my people. And you can’t guarantee me that Arkus isn’t sitting in Nar right now thinking of ways to destroy us. We have to be ready if his legions come.’
‘All right, then,’ conceded Jojustin. ‘Go. Maybe the fresh air will clear your head, get you thinking straight again. But take Patwin with you.’
Patwin looked up from his plate. ‘Me? I just got back from riding. Why do I have to go?’
‘Because I want you to look after Richius. There’s no telling how many more of those Triin dogs are lurking around.’
‘It’s not necessary,’ said Richius. ‘I can take care of myself.’
‘I would feel better if there was someone with you. Oh, and another thing. Jenna tells me she saw you in the garden last night.’
‘So?’
‘At night? You know how dangerous that is. How can we protect you if you go wandering off? You could have been killed.’
‘The sentries were close enough to protect me. And I like to get out of the castle sometimes.’
‘That’s fine,’ said Jojustin. ‘You should get out more. But why the garden of all places?’ He looked down broodingly at his own breakfast. ‘The stain’s not even gone yet.’
Richius didn’t answer. Despite the garden’s recent history, he felt a closeness to the place he could not explain. Perhaps the bloodstain was the very thing that drew him there. Like Jojustin had said, the blemish was still quite visible, clinging to the flagstones like spilled wine on a carpet.
‘I’m comfortable there,’ said Richius at last. ‘Besides, I really don’t think an assassin would try to get me there, not with all the guards around now.’
‘I promised your father I’d look after you,’ said Jojustin. ‘I can’t let you take such chances. Please, stay out of the garden. At least at night?’
‘I’ll try,’ said Richius, hoping the halfhearted answer would satisfy his steward. These constant, loving concerns for his welfare were becoming a burden.
Jojustin smiled at him, genuinely pleased. ‘Thank you, lad. I don’t want to make a prisoner of you. Just a few more weeks, till things settle.’ He shuddered. ‘So much killing. Why –’
There was a sudden, jarring silence. The old man went rigid with surprise, his eyes locked on Richius’ hand, following it as it lowered his glass to the table.
‘Jojustin?’ asked Richius, alarmed. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Your ring. Your royal ring. Where is it?’
Richius swallowed hard. He’d been trying to hide the loss of the ring from Jojustin since returning home. Panicked, he grabbed the first response that bloomed in his mind. ‘Upstairs. I forgot it when I woke up.’
‘Forgot it? That’s not like you, Richius. That’s your king’s ring. You have to wear it all the time. You can’t just take it off whenever you want to, you know that. You . . .’
Their eyes met squarely.
‘You lost it.’
Richius could hardly find his voice. ‘Yes.’
‘Lord, Richius. How could you? Where did you lose it, do you know?’
‘I don’t know,’ Richius lied. He could never explain to Jojustin how he had given the ring to Dyana. ‘It probably fe
ll off when we were fleeing Ackle-Nye. I had it when Patwin found us; after that I can’t recall.’
‘I don’t think so, Richius,’ Patwin interjected. ‘I was going to ask you about that. You weren’t wearing your ring when we met up in the Run.’
‘Well, maybe I lost it in the valley,’ said Richius impatiently. ‘There was a war going on, you know. Anyway it’s gone.’
‘But that ring was your seal of kingship,’ said Jojustin. ‘You have to wear it.’
‘Why? Aren’t I king without it?’
‘It’s tradition. It marks you as the royal line of Aramoor. You’re supposed to wear it until you die, be buried with it like your father was. The people must see it.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Richius. ‘But it’s gone. And anyway it was only a ring. Can’t we just have another made?’
‘Of course we can, but that’s not the point. Your father gave you that ring. You have to bear something of his with you always. Something more than just the crown.’
Before Richius could answer, Jojustin was up and snapping his fingers.
‘Wait,’ he said, pushing back his chair. ‘I have just the thing for you, lad. Something that wasn’t buried with your father. Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be back in a moment.’
Jojustin turned and left the dining chamber, leaving Richius and Patwin behind to exchange confused looks.
‘What was that about?’ asked Patwin.
Richius shrugged. ‘He took that better than I thought. The way it was going, I was beginning to think he’d never notice.’
‘He notices everything, Richius. Like how odd you’ve been lately. Give him a little room. He’s just worried about you.’ Patwin pinched another sausage between his fingers, popping it into his mouth and saying, ‘We’re all worried about you.’
‘Patwin,’ said Richius affably. ‘You’re all making it so hard to be angry with you. But you can stop worrying now, I’m fine.’
‘Really?’