The Southern Trail (Book 4) (38 page)

“I don’t want to show off,” Marco answered.

“When are you going to go see Fyld?” Rhen asked.  “Won’t you take me to the army post, so I can see him?” she begged Marco.  “It would look wrong for me to go to the base unescorted.”

And so it was arranged that the next morning, Marco and Rhen went to the army post where Fyld and the other survivors of the long march home were stationed as they recuperated from their ordeal.

“We were written off as lost,” Fyld told Marco when they affectionately reunited.  “The other escapees and captives from Athens sailed around the coast and got back weeks before us.  No one’s ever taken such a large body of men and marched as far as we did along the continent.”

“After everything we experienced, I can see why,” Marco answered dryly.

“My commander will want to meet you.  He didn’t believe all the stories the men have been telling about the great Marco who saved them all and pulled them through,” Fyld insisted, which led to a promise that Marco and Rhen would return to the base two days later to meet the commander and several of the other survivors of their long journey home, to participate in a ceremony to celebrate everyone’s safe return.

When informed of the proposed ceremony later that day, Ellersbine insisted that she join in the reunion with the others from the long march as well.  She invited her cousins to come along as well, and word got back to Mersby’s home, so that he and Grace were invited as well.  The army base commander was most impressed when two carriages that carried the royal family’s crest rolled through the gates of the army post on the morning of the ceremony.

“They say there’s going to be a field general here for the ceremony,” Fyld told Marco as he escorted the entourage to a raised dais where chairs were arranged for the family of the prince.  “They apparently think they need to make a point of recognizing what you did, and I’m sure they didn’t know you were going to bring such an exulted audience for the event today; that will make the high command ever more pleased with you.”

              Marco felt his cheeks grow warm at the implied praise from his friend, as Mersby and his family, along with Rhen and Marco, all took their seats.  Fyld bid them farewell as he returned to his unit, but they were alone on the stage for less than two minutes before a bevy of officers approached them, circling around a pair of field marshals who looked at the stage to appraise the seated guests.  As their eyes reached Prince Mersby and Princess Grace their eyebrows raised dramatically, and they whispered hastily to some of the junior officers in attendance upon them.

A pair of the attendants hastily walked away, while the field marshals stepped up onto the platform to greet the visitors.

“Your highness,” the senior of the leaders spoke first, “we did not expect such an august presence for our little recognition ceremony today.”  As he spoke, aides came bustling towards the reviewing stand carrying large umbrellas.  The aides quickly deployed themselves behind the seated guests and held their umbrellas to provide shade as the field marshal continued to speak.

“We have heard nothing but unceasing praise for your young friend, who helped lead our troops on the longest march ever recorded by the king’s army,” the second marshal spoke up.  “To a man, the troops and officers agree that this Marco,” he waved at the guest of honor, “is the only reason that any men were able to complete the journey.”

As he spoke, two columns of men came marching into the open parade ground in front of the viewing stand, approaching from both sides of the field, and uniting in formation in the center of the yard.  Marco looked out at the men, and started to simultaneously tear up and grin.  He felt Ellersbine reach over and squeeze his hand.

They were the men who had left Athens together, and suffered through all the unexpected challenges of the journey home.  There were perhaps a third of the men who had originally left Athens’s dock, Marco guessed.

As he thought of the proportion lost, Marshal Tanner began to speak in a loud, booming voice that carried across the parade grounds.  “Only a third of the prisoners who left Athens as part of this expedition are alive today.  Almost as soon as their ships took to sea, they began to encounter hostility and calamity that claimed the lives of their companions.

“The Corsairs we had thought were allies attacked, but their treachery was overcome when one man rose up from his position and rallied his fellows around him, commandeered one of the Corsairs’ own ships, rescued the noble leaders who were captive, then led the fight to retake control of our own ship,” the marshal read from a scroll.

“When an unnatural monster ambushed the ship,” the other marshal solemnly assumed the scroll and read on, “one man jumped into the sea to try to save a companion, and fought the monster beneath the water, then communed with dolphins to finish his task.”

“I told you he talked to dolphins!” Rhen said in a stage whisper to Sarai and Suseen.

“Misfortune continued, as the ship was wrecked on a reef, and good Prince Ellersby was killed in the destruction that resulted.  But one man kept his head and rescued others who were in danger of being killed,” the great officer intoned.

“That was us – Ellie and me,” Rhen told the others.

“The reduced group reached land at last, and then began the task that no one had ever undertaken before, the march from Tripool to Foulata,” marshal moved the scroll ahead.  “The terrain was difficult, the supplies were short, and the conditions were miserable.  Many men were filled with doubt as they suffered during the long march, but one man shared his water supplies and his quiet courage to help his companions survive.

“When discouragement and poor judgment caused some leaders to misunderstand and misconstrue the heroism displayed during the trip,” Marco listened carefully to the implied criticism of Varsen and Argen, “one man withstood the mistreatment with manly dignity.”

“I like that part,” Ellersbine squeezed Marco’s hand.

“And when a devastating ambush started the slaughter of unprepared soldiers, one man led the counter-attack that ended the entrapment, and followed up by nursing the injured so that all recovered and finished their journey,” the second marshal continued to read the long recitation, though Marco could see men in the ranks starting to shuffle their feet.

“But when captives were taken from the column, and driven far from the others, one man pursued them alone, and set the captives free, then arranged for their safe return to the settled lands of the kingdom once again,” the marshal’s voice indicated that the end of the litany of events was approaching.

“This one man is a hero of the army and the people, and deserves an uncommon honor for his uncommon valor.  We hereby call upon Marco to step forward, to receive our recommendation for the king’s medal of heroism, and to be field promoted to the rank of colonel in the army,” the second marshal finished the long speech at last.

The men on the field broke into thunderous applause and cheers, as Marco sat still for a moment, until Rhen reached over and pinched him.  “Get up there,” she hissed.

Marco rose quickly to his feet, and the men standing in the yard redoubled their applause as he walked forward.

The marshal closest to him took a large, ornate medal insignia from an aide, and carefully pinned it to Marco’s shirt shoulder.

“That’s hardly a regulation uniform, but I think the insignia would suit anything you wore,” the man told Marco as he firmly shook his hand.  He turned to face the soldiers in the yard.  “I’d like to introduce you to your command.  This column of men is officially placed under your orders until their next assignment is decided.”

The men laughed and cheered, until Marco repeatedly motioned for them to quiet down.

“I never thought I’d see all of you in clean uniforms again,” he observed dryly, making them all laugh, as they remembered the torn, faded uniforms they had worn thin before they finally made their return to Foulata.

“We hardly knew each other when we were herded on those ships together; isn’t that right Wilh?” he asked as he spotted the first man he had met when he had been positioned by Iasco to switch sides.

“That’s right Marco!” the foot soldier shouted back.

“Now, you all feel like brothers due to all that we shared.  Many of you took care of me when I faced challenges,” he smiled at a man who had been a gentle, friendly guard when Varsen had isolated him.  “I’m glad I was able to return the favor.”

The memory of having his identity changed by Iasco was in the forefront of his thoughts for the first time in weeks, as he recollected meeting Wilh.  He was not truly one of these men, he knew, although he felt fully integrated in among the Docleateans now.  Except his goal was to kill their king, when the chance came upon him, as Lady Iasco foresaw that it would.  He lost his train of thought as he reflected on how different he was from what he had started out as.

The men were all staring at him attentively, and he realized he was standing silent.

“Words aren’t my best tool,” he said, “so I can’t tell you all how happy I am to see that so many of us are alive and together again.  I can believe that no one else has ever done what we did, because it was tough.  And I hope I never have to do it again!” he finished, drawing laughter and cheers.  “And if I’m really your colonel, then I dismiss you for the rest of the day!” he drew a second round of cheers.  “Captain Fyld, come join us after you release the men,” he finished up his appearance at the podium, and returned to seating area.

“Why don’t we all move into the officers’ club to have something to drink and talk?” Marshal Tanner suggested.

“So that Suseen and Sarai can see more eligible young officers?” Rhen asked mischievously.  “Their eyes are already full!” she laughed.

“As if your eyes aren’t full of one particular officer!” Suseen retorted, as Fyld joined the group.

They were all soon seated at a pair of tables in an elegant room, and drinks were served.

“We hope to have Marco’s award presented by the king himself next week,” Coda told Prince Mersby.

“We have heard that Count Argen plans to lead an investigation of the march, and use it to denounce Prince Ellersby and Marco, and your niece, and to make himself look heroic.  We want to have Marco declared a hero first, to establish the facts of the case before Argen can twist them,” the marshal said.

“I’ll do whatever I can to help you,” Mersby said.  He turned to Marco.  “You truly are everything my niece says?” he asked.  “And yet you act so humble in our home.

“Was Argen no help at all on the trip?” the prince asked.

“From what the men tell me, he was a coward and a bully and nothing more,” Marshal Coda interjected.

The prince looked at his wife for a long shared moment.  “We’ll be in contact soon to let you know what help we can provide at court,” he said.

“That would be most appreciated,” Marshal Coda said gratefully.  “The sooner we can secure our spot and spread our story of heroism, the better it will be for all of us.”

“Agreed,” Grace spoke up for the first time.  She turned to Marco.  “Are all these stories about your healing powers true?  I apologize,” she turned to Ellersbine, “but I believed they were all a matter of interpretation through loving eyes.”

All eyes turned to Marco.  “I do have an enchantment upon me that allows me to help people to recover their health,” he admitted.

“And it works by allowing others to suck on your finger?” she asked hesitantly.

He nodded his head.

“Would you like to try it, your highness?” Rhen asked brightly.

“No,” Princess Grace answered sharply.  “Not in public,” she added in a quieter voice, her face turning red.  “I believe it’s true.”

“I’ll try it again,” Sarai offered.

“Not in public,” Grace said quickly.

“We’ll go home and learn more.  The point of my question though, was that we can begin to introduce you to the people in the palace and allow you to treat them, so that you build good will,” she said.

“If we take him to the king’s harem, grandfather will be sure to hear about him,” Prince Mersby said mildly, with a twinkle in his eye.

Ellersbine head whipped around to stare at her uncle as she began to make a heated comment, then saw his smile and bit her lip.

“We thank you for our hospitality.  Your ceremony was very nice, and we congratulate all your men who managed to survive what was clearly a harrowing experience,” the prince told the officers.  “But we should be on our way.  Will you have the carriages brought around for us?” he asked.

An aide was sent out in a rush, as the others rose, and walked to the exit at a more sedate speed.

They were soon all aboard the carriages, Marco instructed to ride with Mersby and Grace, while the four girls rode together in the second carriage.  As soon as the carriage started to roll, Mersby leaned forward.  “Take off your gloves, Marco,” he instructed.

Marco felt a lump in the pit of his stomach, but he did as instructed.

Grace reached forward gently and took both of Marco’s exposed golden hands in her own.  He sat passively as she flipped them over under the watchful eye of her husband.

“Which one has this enchanted water?” she asked.

Marco wiggled the finger on his left hand, then leaned forward as she placed the finger in her mouth.  She sputtered in surprise as his water flowed freely.

“Mersby!  It’s real!” she turned to her husband.

“Are they all like that?” the prince asked.

“No, just the one finger.  It was enchanted at a spring,” he said carefully.

“Why are they all golden if only one makes the water?  Why are your whole hands golden?” the prince asked.

It had come at last.  Marco had to decide what to say, how to answer; what to hide, what to reveal.  His future, and Ellersbine’s future, were both at stake in the way he handled himself in the next few moments, he knew.  His stomach grew tighter, and his vision grew constricted.

“My hands are filled with the power of sorcerers,” he concluded he had to tell the truth.  “They’re golden because I’m a sorcerer.”