by Whyte, Jack
"It did not occur to me at all then, for example, that your mother might have survived the capture that Fallo had described to me. And it certainly hadn't yet come to me that the attackers were Clodas's men—how, before it actually occurred, could such a monstrosity even have been conceivable? Certainly, when Fallo spoke Merofled's name, my mind tried to form some kind of explanation for his unexpected presence—I remember thinking that the reports of his death must have been in error; he must have been captured and not killed, and thereafter been held hostage to some monstrous threat.
"I had some addled notion in my head, I remember, that the attackers were some kind of Outlanders, some ragtag invading force of barbarian adventurers from the far north, beyond the Rhine. I had half-formed visions in my mind of towheaded, blond-bearded savages carrying enormous axes and heavy shields. But then I remembered that Fallo had only seen one axe, a single-handed one, wielded by Merofled, who was no Outlander. Even then, I realized later, stunned and disoriented as I was, I was beginning, deep in my mind, to sense the presence of evil.
"The deep wound in my arm from Fallo's dagger was not making my problems any less difficult. The bleeding finally stopped, however, thanks to the pressure of the wadded bandage Fallo had strapped around my arm using one of my several belts. He was in better condition than I was, so I rode and he led me back cautiously towards our former encampment. I was fretting at his caution, but it proved worthwhile, for there were large numbers of enemy troops among the woods. Fortunately, they were all leaving, and there was that air of flattened calm about them that affects all of us after the terror of heavy fighting.
"We stopped and concealed ourselves in a dense thicket within a quarter mile of the camp and remained there for almost half an hour, watching as the last of them drifted away into the woods, heading northwards. I had been watching those of them who had approached us, but none had come close enough for me to examine closely, and yet there was something that I felt I should be seeing, something that was plainly there but was eluding me. It was annoying, like the buzzing of an insect in the night, clearly heard but unseen.
"When they were all safely gone, we ventured out and made our way into the camp, where we found your father's headless body, but no sign at all of your mother the Queen. We searched high and low, hoping to find her safely hidden somewhere in the surrounding area, but in the end we found no trace of her and were left wondering what had become of her.
"Whoever these attackers were, they had taken your father's head as a trophy, for his was the only corpse that had been mutilated that way. His and Merofled's, if Fallo was to be believed. But there was no sign of Merofled on the killing field, other than a great outpouring of blood at the spot where Fallo said he had struck off the butcher's head, and the man in whose body Fallo had left his sword had vanished, too. All of the bodies of the enemy fallen had been removed, in fact, the dead as well as the wounded, and only a few slaughtered defenders and two dead horses remained sprawled in the clearing that had housed the camp. Our dead, and the far- flung ring of perimeter guards, had fallen where they stood and fought. I sat light-headed and reeling in my saddle, blinking at the sights that surrounded me, aware that something was wrong but unable to identify what it was. It was Fallo who finally defined it.
" 'They took all their dead,' he pointed out to me. 'Everything. Weapons, gear, trappings from the horses. Everything.' I remember agreeing with him and being aware that I was swaying drunkenly, and my tongue was threatening not to do my bidding, so I articulated my words very precisely. 'Why would they do that, think you?'
"To hide who they are. They don't want anyone to know who did this. "
"That sobered me slightly, making me concentrate more closely. 'Who are they, then? "
"Fallo looked at me as though I were dull-witted. 'They're Clodas's people,' he said. 'Didn't you recognize them?'
"I remember I scoffed at him, unable or unwilling to really appreciate what he was saying.
"'Then why was Merofled there?' he demanded. 'Clodas's strong right arm. Where has he been hiding for the past year? Those were his men. Did you not see their uniforms? Black tunics and black leather; no insignia. That's Merofled's mercenaries.'
"Suddenly, crushingly, I saw the truth of what he was telling me and everything fell into place. Merofled's 'death' had been no more than a subterfuge to prepare the way for his grieving widow to be introduced into Childebertus's household and into Elaine's trust. No one, of course, could have known in advance that Elaine's milk would dry up; the fact that it had, I quickly realized, was merely a fortunate bonus from the viewpoint of the plotters. They had spent long hours plotting their designs and must have laid careful plans to have Sabina's baby 'die' and then be cared for by someone else for long enough to leave its mother free and piteously qualified to assist Elaine with her still-living child. Sabina's child, then, was yet alive today, as had been her husband, which meant that Sabina was a treacherous, duplicitous whore, set in place to betray the entire household that had welcomed her into their lives, and specifically instructed to lure and seduce me away from the path of my duty, thereby leaving the way free for murderers and rapists to glut themselves in this orgy of slaughter.
"How easy had it been for her to influence the family, given the compassion they had felt for her and the position of total trust they had accorded her? Hers had been the voice goading Childebertus to spend some time alone with his wife and son, and she had used her seductive wiles on me to bring me to acceptance of many things that I would never otherwise have countenanced, all of which had made her foul task easier. And now Childebertus and Elaine were dead and you, their son, were gone, stolen away, if not killed, by the person who had engineered this entire catastrophe.
"Within moments I was riding Fallo's horse hard back to where I had left you and the woman, more than a mile away. Every vestige of weakness and sickness had disappeared from me and I rode like a man possessed by demons, thinking as I went that you were already dead, for I saw nothing strange in the thought of Sabina killing you out of hand—the callousness with which she had arranged the death of your parents made the additional killing of a mere brat insignificant. So convinced was I that she had killed you that I heard myself wailing as I went, aware that it was me making the noise, but that it did not sound like me. I had yelled to Fallo to find another horse and follow me, but I didn't know if he would and in truth he was the least of my concerns.
"My horse broke from the woods into the open meadow where I had left you both and I headed it directly for the place where I had last seen you, hoping, I suppose, to find some traces of your presence there, some spoor that I could follow. And there you were, alive and alone in the grass, tightly wrapped in your swaddling clothes, your face twisted in rage as you howled out your outrage at being left abandoned and unable to move. I almost fell from the saddle, leaping down, and I did fall flat on my face when I bent over to try to pick you up. So for a time I simply lay there beside you, listening to you scream and thinking it the sweetest music I might ever hear."
4
The muffled sounds of our horses' hooves seemed very loud after that, neither of us having anything further to say, but while I found myself intrigued by the thought of Chulderic finding a baby's screams enjoyable, I drew no pleasure from thinking of myself as a screaming infant. And so I rode head down and waited, while counting twice from one to twenty, for him to resume his tale. When he did not, I kneed my mount slightly closer to him.
"What about Sabina, Magister? Where had she gone? Did you ever see her again?"
"Oh yes, and far sooner than she had thought to be seen. She had worn a brilliant yellow scarf that day, when we set out to walk, and I had admired it greatly. Now, when I finally sat up and took you in my arms to try to soothe you, I saw it in the distance—a flash of brilliant yellow in a clump of brambles. It was obvious at first glance that Sabina had lost it without being aware of it, because it hung motionless among the thorns and it blazed like a beacon, sho
wing which way she had gone, so I went to collect it, taking you with me.
"I reached the spot without difficulty, but the ground there, on which the brambles grew, was wet and muddy, almost a swamp, and it was immediately plain to me that Sabina had lost her scarf in falling. There were clear marks where her feet had slipped on the treacherous path and the unmistakable imprint where her body had landed in the mud. She had scrambled to her feet, leaving distinct hand prints where she had pushed herself upright, and had then begun to run, the spaces between her footprints almost twice as far apart as they had been before she had lost her balance.
"Curious about why she should suddenly start to run at that particular point, I followed the track she had taken, walking for about four hundred paces until the path began to drop down the hillside into a little valley, and suddenly there she was, leaning against one of a cluster of three boulders in a depression about fifty paces below me, by the side of the track. Fortunately, you had long since stopped crying, probably lulled by the movement of my carrying you, so I stopped as soon as she came into view, and stood there on tiptoe, looking down at her.
"There was something urgent and anxious about the way she was standing, rising tensely every now and then to peer along the track leading downwards to her right, and I realized that she must be waiting for her husband, Merofled, to come and find her. I was immediately swept by a surge of anger and revulsion, and a strong desire to confront her, and so I began to look for a place to set you down. I knew there was no need to hurry, since Merofled would not be coming, and so I began to retrace my steps, and as I walked and searched I saw Fallo and someone else approaching me on horseback. I moved quickly then, waving them to silence as they drew near. The newcomer was Quentin, another of Germanus's veterans, and I signaled them to dismount and quickly told them what I intended to do.
"Sabina did not hear us approach until I spoke to her, and then she leapt like a frightened deer and tried to run, but Quentin was ready for her and tripped her, bringing her down hard before she could go five paces. He and Fallo then pulled her up again, holding one arm each, and brought her back to face me. To her credit, little though it was, she made no attempt to plead or to placate me; she knew by looking at my face that I knew what she had done. When I told her of Merofled's real death at Fallo's hand, however, every trace of color drained from her face and she would have fallen had the two men flanking her not held her up. I realized then that she had loved her husband and the knowledge that she could truly have a capacity for love and yet be capable of the crime she had committed that day hardened me inside even more than I had been.
"I asked her directly why, having murdered your father and mother, she had left you alive, but then I answered the question myself because the truth had just come to me: she had not killed you, but she had left you to die. Her response to that astonished me, however, because it was emphatic and obviously genuine. Your mother's death, she told me, was a nonsense, talk fit only for a fool. No one sought her death and it had no value to anyone. The most important aspect of all that had taken place this day had been the specific requirement to protect Elaine of Ganis. Capturing her alive had been the entire purpose of this venture. Clodas had coveted the woman since he first set eyes on her, she said, and had convinced himself he would make a far better consort for Elaine, Queen of Ganis, than would her wealthy, gullible fool of a husband, Outlander that he was. The plot that evolved thereafter had centered upon a clean and clear-cut intent: to separate Childebertus from his supporters and kill him swiftly and efficiently, along with his child . . . the sex of the child had been unknown while the plot was taking shape and was of no importance. What was important was that Elaine should be free of encumbrances from her past life when her abductors took her to Clodas, who would protect and console her and see to her safety thereafter. I swear to you, I listened to her talk and wondered whether she was mad and Clodas was mad, or whether it was I who had lost my sanity.
"But then I stopped thinking such thoughts and questioned her more thoroughly, seeking the truth, incredible as it might be to hear.
"Sabina's pregnancy had been fortuitous, occurring at the same time as Elaine's, and it was that coincidence that had precipitated the basic idea behind the entire plot. Clodas and Merofled had conceived the plan and had persuaded Sabina to work with them. Clodas had pointed out to her that the rewards would be great, with Merofled benefiting greatly by the takeover of Childebertus's cavalry, and he had guaranteed her that her own child would be well looked after during the few months when she would be away from him.
"Everything had gone according to plan, she told me, except that at the final moment, when it came time to kill the child, she had not been able to. She had grown too fond of you. And so she had left you in the meadow, alive for the time being and with, she believed, a good chance of being found and rescued. But your mother, she swore, was very definitely not dead.
"By the time she finished talking I was gazing at her open- mouthed, appalled at the depth and scope of her self-delusion. Did she—and Clodas, for that matter—honestly imagine that Elaine of Ganis would ever be grateful for the murder of her husband and their son? They would have to be insane to think such a thing. And what about Elaine's father, King Garth? Was Clodas stupid enough to think that Garth of Ganis would not react to these atrocities with a war of total vengeance?
"I remember her expression grew sullen at the mention of Garth's name and I felt my stomach suddenly grow heavy. Garth was already dealt with, she said, although she had had no part in that aspect of the arrangements and had no knowledge of how his death might have been brought about. She knew only that he was marked to die as part of this day's activities. If Elaine was to be Queen of Ganis—as she would be upon the death of her father— Clodas would be King, by right of conquest as well as by right of being wed to the Queen. And once the old man was dead, Elaine's attitude to Clodas would make no whit of difference to anything. They would be wed, by force if need be, and thereafter she would be his.
"Hearing the indifferent tone of the woman's words, the soulless knell of their disinterest, I turned my back on her and gazed up to the hilltop from where I had first seen her hiding down here, and then I told her what was in my mind. I did not look at her again as I spoke, but I knew she heard every word I uttered.
"I told her that there were laws in Ganis, and in Gaul, to deal with people like her and the atrocious acts that they committed and conspired to cause. I told her that she deserved to be tried and sentenced by the proper regal authorities. And I told her, too, that in the absence of such authorities—an absence caused by her personal actions and intent—she was therefore being tried and duly condemned to death, in accordance with the law, by the next level of power within the State, that power being the military, represented by me as Master-at-Arms of the Kingdom of Ganis. I then turned to face her and nodded to her guards, who had been waiting for my signal.
"Fallo and Quentin forced her to her knees, and then, while Quentin held her arms stretched stiffly at her back, her wrists twisted and locked to prevent her struggling, Fallo undid her long hair and pulled it out in front of her, gripping the tresses firmly in both hands and pulling forward and down, hard, to stretch out her neck. Only then did she begin to believe what I had told her, and her voice grew ever more frantic as she pleaded with me, offering to give me everything a man could desire of a woman . . . everything I had dreamed of before but would never yearn for again."
He paused, biting gently at his upper lip, then turned his eyes on me again, and I could see him taking in my size and, I realized later, my age. "You have no idea of what I mean, boy, but you soon will . . . Aye, soon enough you will." He lapsed into silence again, his gaze sliding away from me to stare, unfocused, at something only he could see.
"My sword was a spatha, a long, slender cavalry sword, as you know, intended for stabbing. But I kept it razor sharp and a woman has a very thin neck compared to a man's. She died as her husband had died, her head sever
ed with one blow."
I had been expecting something of the kind, but nevertheless I was left feeling breathless when he spoke the words, perhaps because of the matter-of-fact way in which he delivered them. I could feel my eyes growing round with incredulity and what I can only think of now as consternation.
"You killed her, with your own hands? But you said you loved her! How could you do that, if you loved her?"
"I said I fell in love with her. That is a very different thing from loving her, boy. A boy will love his mother and his grandmother, his aunts and all his sisters, but the feelings that he feels for all of them will be nothing to the feelings he endures when he falls in love with a woman. Falling in love and loving someone are not at all the same. That, too, you will learn someday. But even as you are now, at ten years old, think you I should have spared her?"
That question left me open-mouthed, silenced between the need to scream out "Yes" and the realization that we were discussing the woman responsible for my mother's death. I was unaware of speaking but I must have whispered something of what was going through my mind, because Chulderic answered me.
"No, not responsible, not completely. It was Clodas who was responsible from the outset—his malevolent envy gave birth to the idea—but he could not have achieved what he did without Sabina.
She didn't handle any sharpened weapons that day, but the lethal honey of her coaxing words to both your parents had been more venomous than any poisoned blade could ever have been, and her deliberate seduction of me, undermining my sense of duty and propriety and enabling me to be false to my own code, was malicious and premeditated. And so I killed her without compunction."