The Conqueror (10 page)

There were sparkles in the cave walls,
quartz or something and yet there was an odd rise and fall ahead of
her.

The shock of water on her toes stopped
her dead in her tracks.

She was afraid to call out for the
noise it would make.

She stood there for a moment, staring
downwards into water that was probably crystal clear and yet
invisible in the darkness.

Her shadow fell in front of her,
elongated and distorted, rising and falling with the level as the
cave breathed all around her.

Her mouth opened and she bit back a
scream.

She slid one foot forwards. Then the
other. She went in ankle deep. The water was warm, and that could
mean only one thing: the sea.

“…
huh……huh.
Ah…………….ahhhhhhh. Siss. (boom) huh.”

The cave was talking to her.

“…
ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

She was knee deep. She leaned forwards,
not wanting to lose her balance, and released the snakes. She had a
quick glimpse of the one on the left darting off in a series of
S-shaped wriggles, but where the other one got off to she had no
idea. They were headed away from her and that was all that she
cared. She heaved a quick breath of relief.

“
Ye, Gods. I thank you for
that.” It was a whisper, albeit a sincere one…

She walked forwards a little more
boldly, now that she knew what it was. There was sand crunching
beneath her rapidly loosening, soaking wet leather sandals. She
went waist deep, into the surprisingly warm water, feeling it wash
off the tacky white goop covering her body and leaving her whole,
complete, and very clear on what she was doing.

“…
sigh…ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

No wonder people were spooked the first
time they came in here, she thought. The hard-packed sand beneath
sloped gently downwards and she took a few more cautious
steps.

The water rose around her.

She turned, neck deep, enjoying the
sting of hot water and suddenly realizing what the place actually
looked like from the other side, properly lit and with the flat
plane of the water rising and falling before her. It reflected the
blood-red torch and Theo, all white and nude, almost posed there up
on her rock. Shrouds of mist hung and swirled back into position
after Eleanora’s passage. Ducking her face, she gave it a quick
wash, feeling slightly foolish for a moment.

But this was sublime.

“
Theo!”

The figure of her cousin, thirty yards
away, flinched at the sudden shock of noise in this most intimate
of places.

“
Oh, my, gods, Eleanora.
You scared the shit out of me!”

“
Theo.” She spoke more
carefully now. “Stand up straight. And do you hear it?”

Theo lifted the torch, suddenly
becoming a vision of something very goddess-like, nodding in a kind
of elation. Eleanora wished she could see her cousin’s face a
little more clearly.

Lifting her feet, she treaded water,
gently bobbing for a moment.

She would remember this for a long
time.

There were voices muttering in the
background. They never seemed to let up in this chamber, and from
the sounds of little waves hitting flat stone walls, and some very
black shadows, Eleanora concluded that there was more than one
passage leading off somewhere behind her. The waves she was making
tinkled and gurgled, coming up against hard surfaces.

“
Yes—yes, I hear
it.”

Eleanora stood there in the water for a
good long while, thinking and seeing and listening to the cave
breathe all around them as the water rose and fell about every half
minute, going up and down her neck like the stroking hands of a
lover.

Words came to her unbidden, perhaps the
first real inspiration she’d had in this affair, and so she spoke
them aloud.

“
Oh, Gaia, Mother of all of
the world, and Neptune, Father of all the seas, guide me in my
thoughts, and in my heart, and in my actions. Guide my words and
deeds just as surely as you guide the arrow of Lowren, when it
flies from the bow and strikes down the common foe.”

“
Who said that?”
Theodelinida wracked her brains, but the quote was an unfamiliar
one.

“
I did.” Eleanora waded
firmly up out the water and took the torch from Theo’s unresisting
hand as the echoes slowly subsided and the pair turned to
go.

Chapter Seven

Lowren strode into the great hall with
a few of the boys clumping along behind, still laden with personal
weapons and assorted baggage.

“
Mother.” The place
appeared empty at first glance. “Mother?”

A man looked up and
shrugged.

There were one or two loungers, local
men, sitting at a table in the furthest corner. They were probably
wondering when lunch was served. He nodded pleasantly in their
direction. Their business couldn’t be too pressing, and perhaps
they were content enough with an ale or two.

Otherwise they would have been right on
him.

He looked around. There was a lass
right there.

“
Ah.”

“
Sire.”

He smiled, and the young serving girl,
busy sweeping up the old rushes from the hard-beaten dirt floor,
blushed and curtsied, eyes averted and head held low.

“
Would you please bring the
gentlemen some ale, and perhaps some cold meat, young
lady?”

“
Bread, and cheese, and
bacon and whatevers.” Bibbs was being his usual irrepressible self.
“Potatoes, and gravy, and cakes and pies and tarts would be well,
my dear girl.”

Her eyes darted back and forth, and
nodding profusely, the unfamiliar servant turned and bolted for the
kitchen, taking the rake with her. Lowren looked down dubiously at
the pile of soiled rushes, but no doubt someone would get back to
it soon enough.

“
You’ve frightened her off,
you good-for-nothing individual.”

Bibbs stood right there, eyebrows
climbing in speculative manner.

“
Wot damme. Forgive me
sire, but that was one sweet young thing.”

“
Well, don’t get your hopes
up too high, Bibbs” Lowren’s tone was pleasant, even
humorous.

People brought into the household very
often married out of it—when they were of age, and if they were of
a mind to, and if there was no moral, social or legal encumbrance
to say otherwise.

“
She seems a bit young yet,
my fine fellow.” Garvin slapped Bibbs hard on the back in
sympathy.

Kann, Thoma and Garvin had headed
straight for the rear wall and their habitual long table where they
were close to the fire and could see everything coming and going.
It was a good habit for desperate men, as one might say.

“
Ale, the man said. What
about wine? Or even strong liquor.” Thoma shook his head in
disgust.

Bibbs followed along at a relaxed
pace.

“
Ye shall have all you can
hold, trooper, or I perhaps have failed to understand our master’s
temperament after all.” Garvin was looking around, and his eye fell
on a pale oblong box made of some soft, light wood, perhaps
poplar.

It was always there, on the shelf over
the hearth.

There was a catch on the side and it
opened up to the game with its dark and light triangles, a word he
would have cheerfully acknowledged that he couldn’t even spell. He
got up and ambled lazily over.

“’
Gammon,
anyone?”

Kann pulled an adjacent bench closer,
on the opposite side, and having put his back to the table, lifted
his aching feet to the seat.

“
Oh, damn.” He sighed,
putting his elbows up and crossing his hands across his stomach.
“Home at last.”

It was the morning of the third day,
just as the skipper had foretold, and none too soon for one such as
Kann. Holy, Mother of Aphrodite—he hadn’t been seasick or anything,
but three days and three nights on a ship were almost worse than
three days and three nights on horseback. As for three days and
three nights on foot, that was another thing entirely.

Which, to be fair, he had never
actually done. It wasn’t a fair comparison, but you had to have
something.

There was always
something,
wasn’t
there?

“
Mother must be about here
somewhere. It’s awful early in the day for her to retire.” Lowren
turned his back and strode off.

Just outside the main arch lay the
stairs to the upper chambers.

The wooden keep was typical, a stout
outer wall, and a tower with a small footprint but built to a
commanding height for strength and security. One or two more men
wandered in, with the party’s horses all cleaned and combed and
pastured. One would think they had the tack sorted out and hung
up.

Kann pursed his lips and grimaced. Some
of the younger ones were so eager to avoid him, they’d be going
around to the back door of the kitchen. But he’d been away for a
few days and they tended to slack off when the Serjeant at Arms
wasn’t around. He’d been a bit shocked, upon arrival, by the state
of one or two things. His mind reeled with exhaustion
sometimes.

Not for the first time, he wondered
aloud if he was getting older.

There were grins and nods as the other
men sagged at their seats.

They listened to Lowren’s footsteps
going up the old oaken treads and then it went quiet again when he
came to the first upper floor level.

“
Mother?
Mother?”

They heard him moving around up
above.

“
You have to admire that,
eh, gentlemen. Lowren’s never been afraid to be seen hugging his
mother.” Garvin bit his lip. “I suppose we could have found
worse.”

Thoma’s eyes were drooping.
He’d had the night shift as watchman on the forepeak of the ship.
With land looming off somewhere in the darkness ahead, he’d been
tense with the expectation of running aground. There was no way
in
Hades
that he
could have ever fallen asleep. Far better to stay awake and suffer,
knowing there was a reward ultimately in sight. As it happened,
he’d spotted land in plenty of time and the helm had steered for
port with little or no fanfare. They’d only been a few degrees
off.

His lean and lugubrious face broke into
an uncontrollable yawn just as the pair of swinging doors from the
kitchen to the great room opened and a small procession emerged. It
was strange to have to fight your own face like that, or so thought
Thoma.

He’d fought everything else over the
years.

“
Ah.”

There were two young girls in the lead,
bearing flat trays with mugs and larger steins for those that would
use them. The next girl carried two carafes, presumably with ale
aplenty inside of them. Behind that came the cook, rather unusually
for her. Perhaps she was bored and wanted the news, thought
Thoma.

He grinned as the first girl, Senia or
whatever, (he thought that was right) made a beeline right for
him.

“
You know me too well, my
dear.” She shyly
plonked
a stein down in front of him, and handed over a
small piece of linen from a stack held under her left arm,
hand-embroidered in the arms of Lowren and all of those Lemnian
kings before him.

“
Enjoy, sir.” She curtsied
and side-stepped, seeking out Garvin, who sure looked like he could
use a drink about now.

Kannn had somehow contrived to be
served first and he sipped appreciatively.

“
Well. That
helps.”

The next maiden was a bit more buxom.
Thoma had always appreciated the view of a nice cleavage. This one
was worth keeping an eye on. She leaned over, pouring out the cool,
foamy amber fluid. She may have been aware of his scrutiny, and he
studied the reaction closely. While it was her everyday costume,
she seemed to present with a certain flair when he was
around.

A man could always dream, after
all.

“
Enjoy, Thoma.” Her eyes
were downcast, demure, and yet there was something in her
voice.

He raised the cool mug.

Not a superstitious man, still, there
were times.

“
To Neptune, and thanks for
the fair weather.”

Her eyes came up and she
smiled.

The head of foam rolled down the sides.
In a moment, his beard and mustache would smell like that. It was
the sort of smell you could go to bed with, as he had always
said.

“
Thank you, thank you
kindly.”

The other girls and boys put the
platters down along with some knives, some salt. There was a loaf
of the sweet, dark Lemnian bread, some butter and some cheese, and
this and that and the other thing.

***

“
Hello, Mother.”