by Jules Marks
Akimba nodded. “You have my word.”
He released his grip on the Uplander’s head. The prisoner settled to his knees with his head drooping.
“Then you shall have the truth,” he said in a weary, beaten voice. “I am sick to death of slithering around these cold halls like some foul, sinister creature. We Uplanders prefer to meet our enemy face to face, out in the open. These intrigues have made me sick to my very soul. I’ve been infected with your people’s lies and deceptions, and I am cursed.”
He had let his head fall further, closer to the floor.
“Your eyes…let me see your eyes,” said Ioan.
It seemed to require great effort on the Uplander’s part to raise his head. Still, he did so, and his sorrowful, red-rimmed eyes stared up into Ioan’s.
He grimaced. “You should leave this place while you have the chance. We who are different should remain so.” He saw that his warning had no effect on Ioan. “I hate these people; I loathe this life they lead. They find pleasure in base forms: in drink, in greed and debauchery, in watching others suffer. They dwell in these cold, dark halls; they worship dead gods; they act as if they hate this life and their Mother Earth, this world…they only look to the next for beauty and they do not see that it lies all around them. They squander their gifts…”
I believe he could have gone on: obviously he’d been storing up a lot of resentment against Halwick’s people. Akimba put a stop to the tirade with another question.
“Enough. How did he bring you hence?”
“Wait…hold,” interrupted Hugh. “I’m in the dark here. Who is ‘he’?”
I plucked at his sleeve to stop more questions. “This Uplander is Sir Thomas’ man,” I said in a low voice.
He made a face. “Oh,” he murmured. “That certainly complicates things.”
I nodded. “Yes…it must.”
“Why did he do it?” prompted Akimba.
The Uplander had been staring at Ioan, but his eyes flashed to Akimba.
“He hates you. He hates that you’re different, that you’re from another people. You’re black, and though he tries to hide it, he detests the very sight of you. He knew that Halwick was training you to rule, and he realized that if we Uplanders gained the advantage over you and your men, the tide could turn against you…that you would be ousted or killed in battle…he didn’t care which. Though the people love the Lady Rebeccah, she has no husband, and it’s doubtful they would accept her as their leader. If you were overthrown or dead, Sir Thomas felt that he was the obvious choice to succeed Halwick.”
Akimba was shaking his head. “But why? He has always acted a friend to me. I simply do not understand. Why risk all this? If he hates me so very much, why not simply kill me instead of hazarding open war?”
“Because Sir Thomas knew he would be suspect if you were killed. You need understand this: Lord Halwick knew…he knew that Sir Thomas hated you. When the Lord Halwick first brought you to Piereene, Sir Thomas urged him to train you as a servant, as a slave. Halwick was already fond of you; he refused to consider Sir Thomas’ advice…” The Uplander stopped quite abruptly because he saw Akimba’s hand moving towards his throat. He jerked his head back, but had no place to go. Akimba’s strong hand closed over his throat like a vise.
“Did you kill my father?” Akimba looked from the Uplander to Ioan. “Look to his eyes, Ioan. Be sure of his answer.”
Even with Akimba’s hand on his throat, the Uplander managed to shake his head just a bit. “I did not kill Lord Halwick; I had nothing to do with his death,” he wheezed. “It was an accident. I swear this is the truth. Sir Thomas had no part in hastening his death; he wanted you gone, not Halwick.”
Akimba’s grip eased. “How do you know it was an accident?”
The Uplander’s eyes moved back and forth between Akimba and Ioan. “I know because Sir Thomas was there…” Sensing Akimba was likely to interrupt, he continued his story with a caution: “I will tell all if you remain patient, Lord Akimba, but ready speech would come only if you would allow me to breathe freely.”
Akimba pulled his hand away, but his glare remained steady.
The Uplander cleared his throat and then continued: “As I told you, your father knew Sir Thomas disliked you, and they argued more than once about your ability to lead. When the Uplanders began to rise—and we have risen on our own accord, not at the prompting of any of the likes of you people—when we began our fighting, Sir Thomas saw his chance. He told Halwick you weren’t ready, that you were still too inexperienced and shouldn’t lead the men against the Uplanders. All the while he felt certain that his advice would fall on deaf ears, that his words would, in point of fact, incline Halwick to place you in charge. Sir Thomas believed that he had pressed his point well, but that night Lord Halwick informed him that he, himself would lead the troops against the Uplanders…that you, Lord Akimba, would be second in command under your father.”
Akimba nodded impatiently. “I know of that decision; you tell me nothing new in this regard. What of the accident?”
“You already know that it was late; the castle was all abed. Lord Halwick had been stewing over the argument, he was unable to sleep, and he came to Sir Thomas’ chambers to discuss his options. The two may have disagreed about you, but Lord Halwick had always listened to Sir Thomas’ advice, and in other matters had found it productive to follow his counsel. Not surprisingly, the two men argued once again, and Lord Halwick stormed out of the chamber without so much as a lamp to light his way. Having a calmer head, Sir Thomas ordered me to bring a torch, and we hastened after the Lord Halwick. He was already upon the stairs when we reached the hallway, and he turned to direct yet more harsh words our way. He stumbled upon his robe and fell down the entire flight of stairs. Of course we rushed to his aid, but his skull was cracked; he died within minutes.”
Akimba’s eyes were narrowed. “Why, then, did you not sound the alarm? Why leave my father there in a pool of his own blood?”
The Uplander delayed answering long enough to wince. “The answer, Lord Akimba, is an obvious one: you have seen firsthand the results of Sir Thomas’ tactics. This castle, and the town below, they stink of fear: your men are frightened, suspicious, spooked by whispers and shadows. Morale is low…your leadership in question. Lord Halwick’s death was, indeed, an accident, but it served Sir Thomas’ purpose quite well.”
“Baldrig and Terrel?” murmured Akimba.
The Uplander nodded. “Both part of the plan to terrorize the people here.”
“The other Upland warriors?” asked Hugh.
The prisoner shook his head. “That was not my doing.”
I looked from the Uplander to Akimba. The latter appeared miserably troubled. He placed a hand upon his forehead and groaned. We all of us were quiet and still, waiting for Akimba’s next move.
He sighed. “Why…why have you helped him? Whatever induced the two of you to make this devilish alliance?”
The Uplander tipped his head up a bit more and looked Ioan full in the face. “Sir Thomas is my uncle; we agreed to help one another, though each of us believed we had the upper hand. I…”
Akimba again grabbed the man’s jaw. “Your uncle? How?”
The man’s eyes flashed to Akimba. “Sir Thomas’ father took one of our women captive as a slave; he fancied her, raped her, and she bore a child…a son who became my father. A bond was formed between the half-brothers, and I have used it to my advantage, and to help my people.” He sneered. “Sir Thomas likes me little—I am but a step above you in his feelings—but we have used one another to our own purposes. Now it is over; this bitter alliance has ended. Kill me now; make my death swift, and, being done with your people forever, I will join my father in the halls of our ancestors.”
“Don’t you want to live long enough to see Sir Thomas punished as well?” asked Akimba as he released his hold.
The Uplander shook his head. “That is something your people would enjoy, not mine. Revenge is a u
seless waste in life.”
Akimba demurred; his voice practically hissed when he spoke again. “Revenge is something we require. You know what we found in the caves. What have you to say about the beastly practices of your people?”
The man winced in response, and for the first time looked truly remorseful. He shook his head again, and looked deep into Ioan’s eyes, as if he might find absolution there. “I know not how to respond. Surely you realize that this is a new development, that the customs of my people have been tainted by an outside force.”
“By this wolf king?” asked Ioan.
His answer was a nod.
“Have you seen him?” asked Akimba, his voice now quiet, patient.
“No, I was already in Sir Thomas’ service when word came of him. At first I didn’t believe, and thought only stupid rumours were being told, but now I know he’s genuine, and my heart is sick for what has happened to my tribe. I have long wanted them to triumph over your people and your sick, death-loving culture, but this new ritual is not of our established customs, and I’ve seen how it incites your soldiers and gives them reason to hate.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I am finished, Lord Akimba; there is nothing more to tell. Kill me…kill me now.”
Akimba looked to Ioan, and in silent response to an unspoken question, Ioan nodded.
Akimba beckoned to the guards. “Find Sir Thomas and bring him to me,” he said.
“And what would you have us do with this man, my lord?” asked the guard.
“Take him below; wait until dawn, and then cut off his head.” Akimba looked into the Uplander’s steady gaze. “Use a sharp axe,” he added.
Chapter Eighteen
I should have been glad to see an enemy vanquished, but witnessing the exchange between the Uplander and Akimba left me weary and morose. Though I had vowed revenge back at the cave, I had no desire to see that poor wretch’s execution. As we watched the guards lead the staggering prisoner away, my only immediate need was to see for myself that Larkin was well.
Hugh offered to go find one of the priests to see to Laban, so without further ado, he departed to fulfill his mission.
Akimba moved into his chamber and remained motionless over his fallen guard. He had yet another traitor to encounter before the night was over; he would wait to confront Sir Thomas.
Though Sir Thomas had been quite friendly to me, my allegiance naturally remained with Sir Hugh and Lord Akimba. I had little sympathy for what would happen to the deceitful knight; still, I had no desire to witness his downfall.
Ioan, mind reader that he was, sensed my wish before I voiced it.
“Let’s go check on Larkin, shall we?” he said.
It seemed my earlier harsh words were forgotten. Upon seeing me in Lady Rebeccah’s doorway, Larkin knocked over his chair in his haste to meet me midway cross the room. His enthusiastic greeting was met with one of my own: we hugged one another and thumped each other on the back
“I was so very worried!” he exclaimed. “I thought you were done for!”
I answered him in kind. “Your head…are you certain you are well?”
He’d have another small scar to add to his growing collection. There was an ugly lump and a small cut hidden among his glossy curls, but otherwise he didn’t seem the worse for wear. However, the Lady Rebeccah seemed to have some doubts about his health.
“Ioan, I’d like you put some calendula salve on Larkin’s head.” With one eyebrow raised, she cast Ioan an inscrutable look. Though I was at a loss, Ioan seemed to read her; he placed a hand upon Larkin’s shoulder, and steered him towards the door.
“Here, let’s go take a better look at you…”
I was already turning to follow.
“Gael…stay for a little. We need to talk,” said Rebeccah.
The very tone of her voice made me uneasy, but having had private counsel with her before, I assumed that she had more to say about Ioan. She beckoned me sit next to her in a chair near the fire. She briefly held her hands toward the flames…a delaying tactic, I imagined…and then began to speak.
“Gael, there is something you need be made aware of,” she began.
It wasn’t a good start to a conversation; my stomach clenched like a fist, and I waited as she paused and stared into the fire.
Finally impatient, I prompted her. “Yes, my Lady Rebeccah?”
She exhaled, and turned to me. “Oh, I don’t know how to say this properly.” She looked heavenward for a moment, and then fixed her gaze upon me. “It’s about the vision that Larkin had tonight…” She paused once again.
“…And amazing it was! Do you think he is a seer…has he the sight?” I asked.
“I cannot say; Gael, it’s difficult to understand. Sometimes women have the sight during their cycles.” She bit her lip for a moment. “Perhaps it was something like that.”
“But that wouldn’t explain Larkin…” I broke off because the lady was leaning towards me. “But…” I stammered once more.
Lady Rebeccah took my hand. “Gael, she didn’t know how to tell you. Before she knew who you were, she did it for her own protection. She’s been living as a squire for almost three years; Sir Kerrick was the only one who knew, and when he died, her secret died with him…for a time, at least. Larkin was trying to make her way to Llewellan. When your party arrived here, she finally learned of the connection to Lord Geoffrey, but by then she didn’t know what to do or how to explain…”
I simply couldn’t take it all in at first. I pulled my hand away from her, and put my palms to the side of my head, as if to keep it from cracking wide open. I felt an absolute fool, an old, doddering fool, at that.
“That deceitful little…” I broke off at the last, because Lady Rebeccah grabbed at my arm.
“Stop it, Gael, and listen to me. There’s more to tell, and you need hear it.” Her strong grip tightened on my arm, and her expression hardened as well. “Say no unkind words about the lass. What she did, she did for her own protection. A man of your age and experience should know what would have happened to her had she not acted as she did.” Rebeccah shook my arm before releasing it. “Now heed my words and listen. Make no judgment until all is told.”
“But…” I stopped before saying more. The lady’s glare was all that was needed to stop my mouth.
“When Larkin learned your proper name and from whence you came, she realized that her deceit would hurt you, and she knew not what to do. I met her the next day…remember that dinner we had together…and at that first meeting I thought I recognized a kindred spirit, though I’ve never carried the part so far as to actually masquerade as a man.”
I looked at her comely, ample bosom, and held my tongue as to the unlikely success of such a ruse.
She didn’t seem to notice. “Even then Larkin knew we would soon see battle, and she did not want to be parted from you. She thought that if she revealed her true identity, she would be left behind, and she couldn’t tolerate such an outcome, so she continued the deception, though she was loathe to do so. She didn’t want to lie to you, Gael, but she wanted to remain by your side, even unto the death. You saw how she proved her mettle; she fought bravely when we met the Uplanders.”
My mind was still reeling. “Why such loyalty, my Lady? In truth, we have become fond of one another; I would do almost anything to protect Larkin, but why…”
Lady Rebeccah held up a hand to stop my mouth. “Surely you’ve sensed something. She is your granddaughter, Gael. You are the only family she has in this world.”
I was struck dumb by her revelation. I sat there, staring into the fire, with my mind swimming, practically drowning, with the wonder of it all. I felt such a fool that I had not seen! There had been signs, clues, so many things to pick up on, but I’d been a fool, a fool! There was so much to consider…and Gwen, my lovely daughter Gwen was truly dead and gone! I hadn’t known for certain all these years, but now I had the proof. But a granddaughter…Larkin! Was her name truly “Larkin”? I wondered. She had such
spirit, such heart; she was such a fighter! My heart swelled with pride at the thought. Then I considered the battle to come, and frantically wondered how to keep her out of it. I was so absorbed in thought, I’d almost forgotten the Lady Rebeccah.
“Gael…” She took my hand in her own. “Think you not that this will change what is to come. We will do battle, and Larkin will be with us. She served us well before, and nothing has changed…”
“Everything has changed,” I argued.
“Nothing. You cannot change her course; you do not have the right.”
“I do,” I argued again.
She shook her head. “You do not. It is her choice, not yours. Had I not revealed this truth to you, you would have taken her with you into battle, and would have done your utmost to protect her, as would we all. This you will still do, but now you will have a day, or perhaps two, to spend together as family beforehand.”