Scabbard's Song (21 page)

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Authors: Kim Hunter

Tags: #Fiction, #Fantasy, #Epic, #General, #Historical

BOOK: Scabbard's Song
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dressed in a voluminous golden garment with sleeves that hung almost to the ground. On his head was a huge turban fashioned from at least ten yards of green fabric. Imbedded in this turban was a flashing jewel the size of a hens egg. On his feet were golden slippers, embroidered with silver patterns. They were of eastern design, having toes that curled up and round on themselves, forming a pointed spiral. A dagger encrusted with gems hung from an ornate belt around his thick waist. Spagg was followed by two young bare-chested men carrying a golden sedan chair upholstered with red velvet. This transport seemed to be there simply in case the great Spagg should weary himself with walking. The truth was, though he liked to travel in the chair, people couldnt see him as well when he was inside it. He wanted everyone to know who he was, what he had been, and how far he had risen. On the sedan chair, lit by four perfumed-oil lamps, were perched several colourful parrots. A monkey on a silver chain kept poking its chattering head out of the window. The smell of sandalwood and cedarwood was all pervasive. On the shelf in front of the chair sat a carafe of sweet white wine, covered in condensed droplets of chilled water, with a single crystal glass bound about with bands of ivory. Behind the chair were six well-armed men wearing the livery of the official bodyguard of the Keeper of the Royal Purse. Well, called Soldier after him, the hand-of-glory business must be good, Master Spagg. Spagg, not identifying the voice, whirled round angrily, and the leader of his bodyguards jabbed roughly at Soldier with a spear. You are speaking to the Keeper of the Royal Purse maintain a civil tongue, citizen. Keeper of the Royal Purse? Looks like hes been dipping into it, said Musket. Got a right royal look to him, aint he? Careful, boy, Soldier added, he might cry Off with his head and then where would you be? Headless, replied the boy, but still having more brains than a jumped-up seller of hands-of-glory. How DARE you, spluttered Spagg. You - you guttersnipe. Pompous bugger, aint he? Musket said. And look how he foams at the mouth! Anyone would think that underneath that gold robe he was some sort of person. Whereas we know hes just a thief and a liar, a man who has convinced poor gullible shoppers that his wares will make them invisible. It just goes to show you can make the keeper of a silk purse out of a sows ear. Spagg was looking unsure of himself now. Why were this man and his boy insulting him in this manner? Were they about to attack him? What had he done to offend them? There was something more to this encounter than met the eye. He looked nervously towards his bodyguards. I could order my men to arrest you, he said. Oh, Soldier answered, I dont think theyll do that. And why not? Because they would soon find themselves in the dungeons, thats why not, snapped Musket. I think soldiers who arrest the husband of the queen might even end up being boiled in pig fat, dont you, Father? Very likely, son. Spagg stepped forward now and peered into the faces of the two who were insulting him. He did not recognise the boy at all. But when he took one of the sedan chairs lamps and shone it in the face of the man, he gasped and stepped back. Soldier! he said. Youve come home. As intended. Spagg glanced at the boy. With a a with a child? Not intended, but true. The queen will be most gratified. I certainly hope so. And I see she has elevated you in the world, Spagg, which is both good and rather foolish of her. I shall tell her so. Myself, I think it dangerous to believe that crafty weaselly fellows who love money more than loyalty can ever change, but then I am not a wise queen with a keen insight into human nature. For myself I would have thought once a robber, always a robber. But then here you are, in golden robes, looking as fine as any top civil servant can do. I am pleased for you, Spagg. Do not abuse the trust or I will have your head on a pointed stick. The guards had looked away now and were studying the distant stars with avid interest. Of course I can be trusted, spluttered the new official. I have sworn my oath to the queen and her court. Spagg, you were always swearing and your oaths were famous for their obscenity, but never mind, I shall see you later. Yes yes, Soldier. I look forward to it. I - I tried to tell her, you know, that I wasnt a fit person for this job, but she wouldnt listen. They left the Keeper of the Royal Purse still holding up the lamp as if he were a member of the watch lost in a reverie. Soldier now led the way to the Palace of Wildflowers where the queen awaited his return in the obsidian Green Tower. At the gates and within the palace Soldier was instantly recognised. He was led to his wifes bedchamber, where he hesitated on the threshold. It was not that he was not anxious to see his wife, but once upon a time she had been quite mad and he had never got over his concern that his reception might be a nightmarish one. At times Layana had been as sane as the next woman, but on occasion she had been spitting fire, raking the air with her nails, her face twisted into the most hideous mask of hate imaginable. It was the memory of that time which made Soldier nervous of knocking and entering. However, he did so, and found her looking as entrancing as when he had left her. She was sitting in a chair by the main window, which looked out on to the city gates. It was as if she had been sitting in the same spot the whole time he had been away, watching for him to return through that gate. Sunlight was streaming through the unshuttered window, falling on her hair. A great pang of love and affection went through Soldiers heart. Here was his beloved Layana. True, she was no longer a young woman: like him she had matured, luckily with ease and grace. But there was no denying her loveliness, her extraordinary air of serene beauty. Yet he cared less for her outward attractiveness than for her inner self. Here was a woman capable of great warmth and mercy, as well as passion, which was well in a queen. There was a primitive savagery in every man and woman, of which most ordinary people were aware and kept under control. Too many absolute monarchs, however, gave vent to their cruelty once they had the power to do so. They displayed the ugly side of their nature and suppressed the good side. There was no one to say them nay. Layana had a temper, it was true. But this manifested itself over small matters. She might battle with some venom when her husband stole too much of the bedsheets at night, but she did not issue proclamations which destroyed the lives of thousands. She was a wise judge, a listener as well as a speaker, and her subjects were growing fonder of her by the day. Soldier had not realised how much he had missed her until now. When she turned towards him a smile was on her face and passion in her eyes. They kissed, fervently, and whispered in each others ear. This went on for some time, despite the fact that there was company in the room. Then the queen seemed to notice a young boy hovering by the doorway. She looked over Soldiers shoulder in surprise, then beckoned the child to approach her. Have you been sent by the servants for something? Er, no, maam. Then what shall you want? Speak up, Im not a monster. You have no need to look at me as if I was going to . . . Chop off my head? No, maam. And stop calling me that. All right, then - Mother. Soldier closed his eyes and winced, expecting an explosion from his wife. Layana simply stared at the boy. You must have some reason for calling me that name, she said eventually. I take it I shall now learn what it is. Soldier answered for him. I adopted the boy. Layana stared now at her husband. Adopted him? Without my agreement? T told the boy he could be regarded as my son. However, I did say that your consent was necessary if he were ever to call you mother. Soldier sighed, anticipating the flaring temper his wife could fly into when she sensed a personal injustice. I cannot now renounce him. I have promised I will be a father to him. But you of course still have the choice as to whether you wish to be his mother. Have I? Yes, my love. Im sorry to spring this on you, but we were out in the middle of nowhere and unsure whether we would ever return alive. It meant a lot to the child to know he was wanted and that he had a family. This boy was once a creature with feathers who taunted me incessantly the raven who through some magic in the Unknown Region has now reverted to his birth state, that of being a human boy. Despite being a pest the raven saved my life on several occasions, just as I saved his. You will remember that he was the first creature I spoke to on entering this world I saved him from a poisonous snake with a cudgel. Later, it is true, he betrayed me in the hope that he would become a boy again, but that is forgiven. Soldier paused and stared at the boy in his oversized black silk robe and floppy sandals. It is true also that he is not a very endearing child. There are some suspect ancestors. The nose, and those sun spots, and the way the hair sprouts in a hundred different directions, may point to first cousins marrying first cousins, at the very least. There is not much of a brow between the eyes and the hairline, but there is a brightness of the mind. If there are inbred dolts in his lineage, then his brain did not pick up the weakness. Soldiers expression took on a certain gravity. I should also tell you the child risked his life in trying to wrest a huge ruby from a monster. He wanted to give it to you, to buy your love. I told him your love was not for sale, but that you gave it freely to those who deserved it. I have grown quite fond of the youth and plan to turn him into a combat knight, once I find a good man to train him and teach him to ride a horse in a warrior-like manner. Scrivener, philosopher, physician or judge. Not a warrior. Soldier stared at her. Layana shook her head. She had spoken firmly. She now outlined her own plans. No son of mine is going to waste a good mind on beating dints into helmets with a heavy piece of metal. I want him taught by the wisest tutors in the land. I want my son to be famed for his learning. Anyone can be a warrior. Well, not quite anyone, my love, said Soldier, stung by this belittling of his chosen profession. It takes a good deal more than brawn to be a successful knight. But you approve of the child. Thats good. We are both happy, Musket and I. See how he smiles at you. We will discuss his future later . . . No, he will not be a soldier, said Layana with even more firmness than before. He will be a man of great wisdom. But we can talk of this . . . Who is queen, you or me? she flashed. Now that isnt fair. You cant keep pulling that card out of the pack every time we have a domestic discussion. A row All right, a disagreement, I think we ought to come to some sort of compromise. Lets agree that you cant be queen in our bedroom, dining room or great hall. After all a farrier doesnt shoe horses in his own parlour, now does he? You can be queen anywhere else, he waved his hand airily, generously taking in the whole kingdom outside the palace, but in these three places you are my wife. How does that sound? I can be queen anywhere I want to be. Unreasonable! Flagrant misuse of power! Dont care. Musket was viewing them with alarm, until they both burst out laughing, and hugged each other. Then he realised it was all a game. That his new parents were playing with one another. Then to his concern and discomfort Layana came to him and hugged him too. He wasnt ready for this kind of closeness. He wanted to gradually ease himself into relationship feelings, not plunge in with his new mother. She smelled of face powder and skin cream and alarming scented things like that. A bird does not have hugging partners and is only intimate with its mate. However, he bore the attack without remonstration and allowed the gladness of the situation to flow through him. He had been accepted. He was in a family. You squirmed! accused his mother. I felt you wriggle. Youll have to get used to me doing that, you know. I cuddle anyone in sight when the mood comes upon me. I I shall get used to it, I suppose. Of course you shall. Until then, let me look at you. She took him by the shoulders and peefed at him from arms length. Hes not too bad when you get over the shock of the hair, she said, teasingly. We cant take him back and exchange him, I suppose? For a raven or something more in the house pet variety? No, then hell have to do. Ill give him to Drissila to wash and dress. If anyone can make him presentable, she can. I think hell scrub up nicely with lye soap and some good rough pumice stone. The look of alarm returned. Ive already been washed and dressed and made presentable once. Well, well do it again, and this time properly. Well, my young prince - what is your name? Musket? Well, Prince Musket of Zamerkand, what do you think of your new home? I think it is very fine, said Musket, close to tears with happiness. I I am very proud. Thank you, Mother. Thank you, Father. Drissila? called Layana. Can you come, please? The lady-in-waiting appeared a few moments later in the doorway, with Ofao hovering at her shoulder. This young man is the new master of the house. He is our adopted son, Prince Musket. My husband and I are very proud of him. Drissilas eyes opened wide as she regarded the specimen in front of her. He is? she said in dubious tone. You are? Yes, very much so. You must turn him into something resembling a gentleman within forty-eight hours. Im sure you can do it. Wear out several scrubbing brushes if you have to. And take no notice of tears, screams or wails. Quickly now, the sands are running in the glass. Impossible, said Drissila, clearly astonished by this turn of events, but we shall make a grand effort. You, Ofao, must teach the child to read and write. A little more than forty-eight hours will be necessary for that. I suggest you start by telling him some exciting stories. Tales such as those found in A Thousand-and-ten Nights. This will whet his appetite and have him seeking more of the same You will then teach him to read them for himself. Once he can read, writing will follow naturally, with encouragement of course. After which you can embark on mathematics, astronomy and navigation. All very useful subjects. A little sewing and cooking will also not go amiss. A young man should be able to take care of himself, without his servants, in an emergency. Is that all? remarked Ofao with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. What about stuffing the life cycle of the cockchafer in there as well? The queens eyes narrowed and Ofao bowed quickly, and to Muskets chagrin patted the boy on the head. It shall be as you say, Your Majesty. I shall have the infant chanting his times tables within the week. I have always found

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