Company of Liars (26 page)

Rodrigo leaned on one elbow, watching him sleeping, as if trying to memorize every detail of the young man's beauty. Then he got to his feet, gathered up Jofre's discarded cloak and covered him with it. He picked up the whip from the corner where he had flung it and walked wearily to the door. He turned and stood for a moment, looking back at the sleeping form. And by the soft yellow light of the lantern, I saw that tears were streaming silently down his face.

13. Pleasance's Tale

We heard the wolf again that night. We all heard it, and this time I couldn't dismiss it as a bad dream brought on by fatigue. We had decided to eat our meal where it had been cooked in the old inn, even though it was crammed with the old widow's rubbish. Osmond grumbled that despite the sleeping barn being cold and draughty, it would be better to eat in there where we had at least had room to bend our elbows, but I persuaded him otherwise. It would be wrong to hurt the old woman's feelings by refusing her hospitality, I said, and besides, Adela needed to stay warm at least until she had a good meal inside her. I was anxious to keep them out of the barn as long as possible for Jofre's sake.

In truth, hospitality was not a word the widow seemed over familiar with. She fussed around as we made spaces to sit, agitated lest we touch anything. She pushed crocks under tables and stacked kegs still higher on the teetering piles, warning us that she knew exactly what was in the room and not to get any ideas. I think it was only the irresistible aroma of hot food rising up from the cooking fire that made her tolerate us at all. Even the dogs seemed disposed to make friends with us, drooling round our legs and whining as the pot began to bubble and the sweet smell of mutton rose up
from its depths. Finally, after what felt like hours, for we were nearly as ravenous as the dogs, Pleasance and Adela pronounced the supper ready and asked Narigorm to round up Zophiel, Cygnus and Jofre and tell them to come and eat.

‘Not Jofre,’ Rodrigo said quickly.

Adela frowned. ‘I know he is in disgrace, Rodrigo, but he must eat. The poor boy has had nothing since yesterday.’

‘Jofre's sleeping,’ I broke in quickly. ‘He's not feeling well. Too much wine. But you're right, Adela, he does need to eat. Narigorm, you fetch Zophiel and Cygnus while I take Jofre some mutton. Run along now,’ I added, for she was staring at me with those ice-blue, disbelieving eyes of hers. ‘The sooner you find them, the sooner you'll eat.’

Zophiel, had he been there, would undoubtedly have said that the boy deserved to go hungry, but I knew Jofre had been punished enough for one evening. No one should have to suffer the pangs of hunger through a long cold night, when there is food to be eaten. I collected a bowl of mutton and some flat bread which Pleasance had baked in the embers of the fire and set off towards the barn.

Rodrigo caught up with me just before I reached it. ‘Jofre… I…’

‘I know, Rodrigo. I saw you go into the barn with a whip. I guessed what you used it for.’ I could not tell him I had witnessed it.

Rodrigo grimaced. ‘I had to do it, Camelot. You understand?’

‘What you did was nothing compared to what would have happened to the boy if the prior had taken action. With luck it might have brought him to his senses.’

‘If it does not, I do not know what else I can do.’

There was nothing I could say to that. But I guessed that neither master nor pupil was yet ready to face each other.

‘Go get some food, Rodrigo, I'll see to the boy.’

He gripped my shoulder. ‘Once again we are in your debt, Camelot.’

Jofre was still sleeping when I went in. He was lying curled up on his side, his cloak pulled up to his chin. But when I put the bowl and bread down beside him he jerked awake with a groan and tried to prop himself up, wincing and clutching his backside.

‘I thought you'd rather eat in here tonight. I don't suppose you feel much like sitting down at a table just now.’

In an instant Jofre was wide awake.

‘I suppose he's told everyone,’ he said angrily. ‘Zophiel too?’

‘He's told no one. I happened to see Rodrigo come in here. And I can tell by the way you're wincing you took a beating. I'll try to keep the others out of here as long as I can, but you'd better make the most of tonight's rest. If Zophiel hears you groaning, he won't need to be told, so you'd best think of a good excuse or learn to hide your discomfort till you heal. It's my betting it'll be a good few days before you're sitting or walking comfortably again.’

Jofre's fists clenched. ‘It's all that bastard Zophiel's fault. Rodrigo would never have done it if Zophiel hadn't told him to. He'd no right to treat me like that, like a… a child.’

‘Rodrigo would never have beaten you if you hadn't given him cause. You're fortunate; many masters would have done far worse for much less and you know it.’

‘I suppose you want me to say I deserved it,’ he said sullenly.

I shrugged. ‘What you say doesn't matter, lad, the question is, has it cured you?’

‘I won't be sitting down to a game of dice today, if that's what you mean.’

‘I dare say that was the idea, but when the strips are healed?’

For a moment he glared furiously at me, then his shoulders sagged and the truculence suddenly seemed to drain out of him. He stared down at the floor.

‘I can't help it, Camelot. Rodrigo is the greatest musician there is and the greatest teacher. I don't mean to hurt him. It's not his fault I behave as I do and that bastard Zophiel has no right to tell him he's a lousy master. It's me. It's my fault. I'm stupid and useless.’

‘You're neither of those. Rodrigo believes you have a great talent, greater even than his, that's why he pushes you. I know it is hard when you are young, but –’

‘Why does everyone say “When you are young”, as if things are going to change when I grow up and become a man? I am already a man, Camelot, though you all treat me like a child. You don't understand; there are some things I cannot help, some things which are never going to change. I don't want to be what I am, but I can't stop it.’

But although I couldn't tell him, I understood only too well. I had been blind not to see it before. That evening in the barn I had realized for the first time what was buried inside Jofre and it was something he both feared and despised. He loathed himself, loathed his own nature. I almost believed that Jofre wanted to be punished for what he carried inside himself. Perhaps that's why he had deliberately done those things that would anger Rodrigo the most. I wondered if Rodrigo had sensed that all along.

But Jofre spoke the truth when he did not answer my question, for we both knew that even if Rodrigo flogged every inch of skin from his body, it would not cure him.
The only cure for his misery was to learn to embrace his own nature and he could only do that when he found someone who could give him the kind of love he both despised and craved. Until that happened, no punishment that God or man could devise would be able to stop him destroying himself. Like Rodrigo, I too left the barn on the verge of tears.

I'd not gone more than a few paces when I ran into Narigorm. She was leaning against the side of barn, a malevolent smile playing on her face. Her attention was fixed on two figures struggling against the wall. It was an unequal match. Zophiel had Cygnus pinned to the wall by his throat in a way that looked far from friendly.

‘You're lying, boy, I know you are. You were about to say something to Osmond at the bridge this afternoon. Don't deny it. I heard you. But whatever you think you saw, you keep your mouth shut, do you understand me, freak? If I catch you –’

‘Problem, Zophiel?’

Zophiel looked round at the sound of my voice and immediately dropped his hand. Cygnus took a big gulp of breath. He looked scared, as well he might.

‘Didn't Narigorm tell you, supper is ready? You'd best come at once unless you want to find your supper in those dogs, for I doubt we can hold them off much longer.’

It was pointless asking Narigorm why she hadn't delivered the message. I wondered just how long she'd been standing there beside the barn and what else she might have overheard.

We were all too hungry to talk while we ate, which was just as well. The simple act of eating can cover many kinds of silences and that night several of us round the table had reason to be grateful for that. As the pot emptied and our
bellies filled, the eating slowed and finally the dogs, who had been whining and scratching at the door, were allowed in to devour what was left. This they did in several huge gulps as if fearing that if they didn't swallow it fast it would be snatched from their mouths. Finally, when the pot had been scraped clean and even they were convinced there was no more, they lay down and closed their eyes to dream it all again.

We were dozing in the mellow contentment that comes from a good meal when we heard the howl. The dogs' heads came up; they too had heard something, but they soon settled again. We relaxed too, thinking that what we had heard was nothing more than the wind wailing like a banshee as it tore through the trees and ramshackle buildings. But the howl came again, louder and longer. This time there was no mistake.

Zophiel and the dogs leaped up at the same time. The dogs ran growling to the door, the hair bristling between their shoulder blades. Zophiel hovered in the centre of the room.

‘You heard it? You all heard it? Camelot, was that a wolf or a dog?’

‘It sounded like a wolf.’

The old widow crossed herself. ‘Saints and all the angels preserve us!’

Though the door was shut, Zophiel made a grab for one of the props to push it up against the door, but Rodrigo too was on his feet.

‘No, wait. I have to fetch Jofre. He is alone in the barn.’

‘The barn!’ Zophiel's hand froze on the prop. He swayed as if his head wanted to rush out of the door, but his legs were refusing to carry it. I knew he was not concerned for Jofre, but his precious boxes.

I tried to calm them both. ‘If it is a wolf, it is only one. The barn door is shut and so is this. Jofre will be fine as long as he doesn't open the door and he's not that foolish.’

‘That's as maybe,’ the old widow said, ‘but I've not heard of a wolf in these parts since I was a girl. If there's one there's bound to be more. Always run in packs, they do.’

Zophiel's face had paled. ‘You're sure you've not heard a wolf until tonight?’

The old woman pulled a face, ‘I may be old, but I'm not deaf. I tell you, there's been no wolf in these parts for years. Hungry they are, like the rest of us. It's driving them out of the forests. You prop those doors, before we all get eaten alive.’

Cygnus stumbled towards the door. ‘Xanthus! She's tethered in the old stable, but the walls are half tumbled-down; she may as well be staked out for them.’

Zophiel moved swiftly in front of him and opened the door wide. In an instant the two dogs had bounded out. Cygnus made to follow, but Zophiel grabbed the back of the boy's shirt, flung him back into the room and slammed the door shut.

The old widow tottered to her feet. ‘My boys,’ she screeched, clawing ineffectually at Zophiel as he bolted the door. ‘My boys'll be torn to pieces.’

We could hear their excited barking fading as they ran off into the darkness. Pleasance got up and, putting her arms round the widow, gently led her back to her bench.

‘Hush, now. It was only a lone wolf. If there were more, we'd have heard them answering the call. It was probably old or sick, driven out by the pack. The smell of the dogs alone will be enough to drive it off. They won't need to fight it.’

She looked up and smiled reassuringly at Cygnus who sat
rubbing a bruise, the second he had received from Zophiel in as many hours.

‘Don't fret, Cygnus, the poor old beast won't attack any animal as big as a horse, not without its pack. The chickens are much easier prey, if it should come this way.’

I thought of the little family huddled under their bridge with no doors to keep wolves out and I prayed she was right.

Zophiel rounded on Pleasance. ‘So you know about wolves, do you? Perhaps we should send you out there and see which it prefers, chicken or human.’

Pleasance's cheeks flushed and she looked down at her lap, trying as she usually did to blend unnoticed into the background.

‘Or maybe,’ Zophiel continued, ‘I should have let young Cygnus go out there after all, seeing as he is half-fowl.’

Having cowed Pleasance into silence again, Zophiel might well have continued venting his spleen on Cygnus, a game he much preferred, had not Narigorm suddenly piped up, ‘Pleasance isn't afraid of wolves.’

Zophiel turned to stare at Narigorm, who was sitting cross-legged on the widow's truckle bed behind us. ‘Then she is either more foolish than she looks or she has never encountered one.’

‘Oh, but she has,’ said Narigorm. ‘Tell them, Pleasance. Tell them the story you told me.’

Pleasance shook her head and tried to retreat further into her corner. But Narigorm persisted. ‘She was midwife to a wolf once, weren't you, Pleasance?’

‘Midwife to a wolf!’ Adela's face lit up with excitement. ‘How is that possible?’

‘It was nothing.’