The Still (45 page)

Again I stood. “Sir, your games are too subtle for my untutored mind. Elryc travels with our party, or there’s no arrangement for me to honor.”

“I but said—”

“If you seek hostage to my word, you err on three counts: to doubt my given pledge, to doubt that I treasure the True, and to doubt that I’d cast aside kingdom and life itself before allowing my brother harm. Come, Rustin.” As best I could with side throbbing, I strode to the door.

From Uncle Raeth, a sigh. “How can a man negotiate, with you stalking off every time you’re thwarted? After a time it grows stale. Sit, Rodrigo.”

“Not this time, my lord. Know thee that I take offense at thy conduct. We’ll pack, and be gone.
Now,
Rust.” My voice snapped like a whip.

Together, Fostrow in tow, we mounted the stairs.

In our chamber Rust sealed the door, put his lips to my ears. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“He wants the barony.”

“Not so loud. He told you openly you’re watched.” Rust glanced about, as if in search of the spyhole. “You may have thrown away—”

“Do you not listen? He wants the barony for Imbar above all things. As I told him, Elryc makes a poor hostage because my interests aren’t well served by keeping him alive. Don’t give me that look; I speak impersonally, as others would see it. Think you I’d betray my own brother, and my oath?”

By way of answer, Rust dug into his purse, found a coin to flip. I put my hands around his throat, squeezed in sham fury. “About this, don’t jest. I want the crown, but I’m not afraid to lose it. I’ll certainly not have it by betraying my blood.”

Rustin tickled me under my outstretched arms, and I leaped clear. “Roddy, I find it amazing that you’re two distinct people. In matters of statecraft, you’re mature. I hate to say it, but ... wise too. In personal affairs, you’re—”

“I know. A dunce. But I try to be less duncelike each day. Fostrow, did I do right apologizing to you?”

The soldier grunted. “The note was pretty enough.”

“You mean I’m still in your bad graces. How do I get out?”

“A serious query?” Fostrow studied my face. At last, satisfied, he said, “You’re Prince of the realm and I but a weary old guardsman. I accept that. But, laddie, I’m old enough to be your father twice over. Think you not every youngsire owes some courtesy to those who’ve aged before them? Is it not possible we ancients have yet some wisdom to impart?”

I sat on the bed, unlaced my boots. “Very well, I’ll try to show your gray hairs more respect, since you have so many of them.” I lay back. “Rust, I’m glad you’re in better humor than last night. What was bothering you?”

It was as if Rust’s mood were a delicate crystal I’d tapped too hard. His face clouded over, and he strode to the interconnecting door, passed through into his own room. “Leave me be, Roddy.” The bolt slid closed.

I sighed. “What makes Rust so moody?”

“What makes any of us what we are?” With a grunt of effort Fostrow rose, took his place in the hall.

I sent for Hester and Elryc, to tell them of our debacle. We’d have to hurry our exit, before Uncle Raeth decided to deliver me to Mar. My faith in his promise of safe-conduct was less than I might like.

Our next aim would be Soushire, where I’d attempt to persuade the fat old Duchess to support my cause.

Hester, for once, listened without complaint of my behavior. “A difficult man. Always was.”

“Even if he spoke in jest I couldn’t—”

“Your mother never knew what to do with him. Glad she was he lived in the windswept hills of Cumber, and not under her nose. She was always polite to him, for Josip’s sake.”

I put finger to my lips, to indicate listeners.

Perverse, she raised her voice. “A difficult man, I said. He swore fealty to Elena, but toys with the ruin of her son.” She glared at my discomfort. “There is a time for candor.”

“Thank you, Milady Chancellor.” My tone was dry.

A knock. I opened, to Imbar, in a flowing multicolored robe.

“Prince Rodrigo.” A formal bow, with a flourish. “Lord Elryc. My lord Earl is indisposed, and bids me convey his regrets.”

Rustin peered through our connecting door. Frowning, stiff, he took his place at my side. Imbar patted his shoulder indulgently. I waited for Rust to whirl, draw sword, and strike off the lowborn’s hand, but he fastened his eyes on the far wall and said nothing.

“Rae’s sent me to arrange details of your convoy.”

“Convoy!” My heart pounded. “What about Elryc?”

“He assumes you’ll want your brother along.” Imbar’s face was expressionless. “I’ll show you the captain who’ll have charge of our men.”

“If they go with me,
I’ll
have charge.”

“He’ll have charge of our troop, and carry out your orders.”

I sighed. “Very well. Rust, let’s go.” I took a cloak against the still wind.

Elryc demanded, “Let me meet him.”

“No, you stay—”

“Promises.” Just one word.

I clenched my teeth, swallowed my ire. “Very well. Do we go outside, Imbar? Elryc, bring your cape.”

Hester made a sound, almost a growl. Her rheumy eyes fixed Imbar, and held something sharp. “Tamper not with honor, or the lives of my boys, or I’ll rot the skin off your bones while you scream in your bed.” That odd gesture, she’d made once before. Involuntarily, I recoiled.

Imbar seemed unmoved, though he licked his lips. “My lord Earl gave his safe-conduct. Besides, I’m among you. Would I risk my own life for so little gain?”

A sentry came to arms as we neared. I wasn’t sure if he gave honor to the valet, or me. Surely, even Uncle Raeth wouldn’t have his men present arms to a valet. Yet Imbar comported himself as co-master of the house, which perhaps he was. He’d even laid hand on Rust’s shoulder as if they were equals.

A grand stone edifice housed the Earl’s officers. In Stryx, soldiers lived in outbuildings, in the castle warrens, or in tents. Even officers lived so; to provide them better was to suggest they were the equal of their masters, and how then could they be asked to die for us?

Imbar asked the sentry, “Is Tursel within?”

“At the common room, sir.”

Indoors, I blinked, waiting for my eyes to accustom. Even the trappings were above the station we accorded to our officers; well-made hangings, sturdy tables with extra touches of grace, comfortable chairs. It would cost Lord Cumber a pretty penny to maintain a troop to this standard, and I wondered why he’d do it.

A door opened. A short man, hair close-cropped, a wide nose. “I’m Tursel. This way, my lords.” I studied him as we passed his extended hand. Younger than Fostrow—what soldier wasn’t?—but still old, at least twice my age.

Imbar said with proper formality, “My lord Prince, may I present Tursel, formerly captain of the second household troop of Cumber.”

“Formerly?”

“He was dismissed as of last night, and his oath of loyalty dissolved. He seeks a new master. Tursel, this is Rodrigo of Caledon, Prince and heir.”

From Tursel, a formal bow, with due acknowledgment of rank. “My lord.”

Elryc tugged insistently on my arm, and I turned aside while he whispered. “He’ll always be Uncle’s man, no matter what he swears.”

“I know, but—”

“If you put us into their hands, they’ll guard us from escape as well as from enemies!”

I said gently, “We’re already in their hands.” Then, to Tursel, “How would you serve us?”

“I’d escort you whither you would go, sire.”

“Why would you serve us?”

“For pay, and—”

My lip curled in disgust. “You’re a mercenary?”

He drew himself up. “My life has been in allegiance to my lord Earl. I would be so today, but for his request I serve you.”

“You’d give me loyalty?”

“I’d swear an oath so.”

“And when my interests diverge from his, what then?”

“I—” His eyes flickered, and fell. “I know not, my lord.”

All at once, I liked him. Honesty was a quality rarely found in the halls of nobility. As must be; it was too dangerous to be bandied about without constraint. “Tell me this much: If the Earl and I become enemies, would you leave me, or destroy me on his behalf?”

Tursel’s manner seemed to relax. “Leave, my lord. It would be the honorable path.”

“You concern yourself with honor? Good. Know men that to betray me to my enemies, to Margenthar of Stryx, would be to destroy me utterly.”

“If I enter your service I won’t do that, sire. Even at the Earl’s bidding.”

“Imbar, does your patron know he’s unleashed a man of honor in our mutual service? Lord of Nature knows where it will lead.” I smiled for an instant, then squared my shoulders. “Tursel, I offer you service to my person and in my domains, as captain of my troop, as my principal lieutenant in matters of arms, upon your vow of loyalty to me and mine, until the death of one of us. Accept you this commission?”

“I do.”

Swiftly we went through the ritual of loyalty, in which he bound himself to me and I vowed to look after his material needs, as spelled out in the vows. A sordid bit of oath-taking, I’d always thought, but necessary, given man’s lust for material goods.

When we were done, I asked, “Now, as to the men. Who picked them?”

“They’re mostly from my old troop, sire. I know them well.”

“Troublemakers?”

“A few, but they know me well, also. If I may have a free hand, you’ll have no problems.”

Should I involve myself, or leave all to him? “Elryc?”

He nodded.

“Done.” I turned to Imbar. “What next?”

“Leave Cumber quickly. My lord Earl sends his regrets that it must be so, but we can’t appear to be in collusion with you. And you can’t depart openly; it would expose the pretense that you’ve evaded us. We’ll first send Tursel and his troop on some mission, then you’ll leave quietly, to meet them in the hills. A squad of our guardsmen will pursue you with full hue and cry. That should be theater enough.”

“It’s complicated.”

“But necessary, if Mar is to be assuaged.” His voice was smooth. “Don’t concern yourself; I’ll set up the details with Lord Rustin. Duke Margenthar will suspect, but he’ll have no proof, so we’ll be free to carry on relations. Diplomatic niceties will be observed.”

I muttered, “They make me sick.”

“Then don’t seek to be King, my lord.”

To that, I had no answer. We returned to the donjon.

We were packed, and waiting for servants to haul our gear down the winding stairs, when Tresa appeared once more. Her tone was businesslike. “Let me inspect your cut.”

“I don’t need—”

“Grandfather said I must.”

Stifling my objections, I dropped my cloak on my bed, fumbled with the strings of the jerkin I’d managed to slide over my bandages. Tresa brushed my fingers aside, adroitly undid the crude knots while I stood uncomfortable, hoping yesterday’s bath was still of benefit.

The bandages were wrapped tight about my incision, knotted on my good side. She untied them with cold fingers that made me flinch. The innermost cloth stuck to my side; she poured water on a fresh cloth, dabbed at the bandage until it came away.

“Raise your arm.”

I was fully conscious how much more manly Rustin’s chest was than mine. Never had the difference seemed greater than now. Where he was muscular, with fine strands of soft hair from neck to groin, I looked almost a baby, and was hairless but for tufts under my arms. I tensed my upper arms to show more muscle, but if she noticed she gave no sign.

“Does that hurt?” She prodded.

I recoiled. “Yes!”

She ran deft fingers across the well-formed scab. “No infection. That’s good.”

I longed for my jerkin. “I’m cold.”

She finished reapplying the bandage. “Dress, then. Shall I help you?”

“No!” I turned away, to hide the flush of my cheeks. Gritting my teeth, I recalled kneeling by the stream at Hester’s cottage. No humiliation could match what I’d already survived. I need not berate myself, for such a little thing as this.

When I looked back at Tresa, my tone was light, though the effort it cost was dear. “Thank you, my lady.” I eased the jerkin over my wound. “I know it must have been unpleasant for you.” Almost I’d added, “as well,” but caught myself in time.

“Not really. I’ve grown used to it.” Her mouth twitched with what might have been mischief. “And you’re more handsome than most I’ve tended.”

My tone went hard. “Don’t mock me.”

It was her turn to color. “I didn’t, my lord.” A curtsy. “I’ll leave you now.”

“No, stay.” My words came before thought, and I was astounded. Whatever had made me say such a thing? Now I’d have to entertain her, and hadn’t the slightest idea how it was done.

I sat, feeling an awkward child. Silence lengthened. Desperate for something to say, I blurted, “I don’t know how to talk to a woman.”

“A mere woman, you mean?”

I colored. “It was boorish, and I’m sorry. I haven’t much practice at civility.”

“Why not, my lord?”

“You might as well call me Roddy; everyone does. Perhaps because Mother made me show her courtesy, but didn’t much care how I treated others.”

“You’re not the first arrogant Lord that lived.” She sounded curious. “But how came you to be aware of it?”

I felt giddy, as from too much wine. “By making a fool of myself over and again, until even I couldn’t ignore it.”

“We all feel we’ve done that, at times.” She looked to the window. “At the banquet.”

“Don’t remind me. I’m sor—”

“No, I meant myself. For supposing you recalled when we’d met.” For a moment she blushed, but then it faded, and all that was left was an inexplicable lump in my throat. “I felt all the more foolish for knowing I made you feel the same.”

Our eyes met.

Not knowing what else to do, I smiled. “Does it matter, in the great scheme of things?”

“Perhaps not.” Tentative, her smile blossomed in answer.

I cleared my throat, searching for something to say. “Your grandfather wants you settled at Stryx, to find a husband.”

Her face hardened. “He means well, of course.”

“You find Stryx so distasteful?”

“I found it quite beautiful, when wind and tide raised the waves below.”