The Still (76 page)
“Easy, my prince. Rest while you—”
Slowly, favoring my injured thigh, I sank to my knees. “Lord Rustin, son of Llewelyn, Householder of Stryx, most humbly I beg thy pardon.” I lowered my gaze, allowed my forehead to brush his fingers. He snatched them away as if burnt.
“I have wronged thee greatly.” I swallowed, fearing his response.
“Roddy ...”
“How oft have you called me a fool?” My voice cracked. “I know now what I am.”
He bent, and stroked my face. “What is that, my love?”
“A boy who is near a man, and frightened. One who needs your guidance as before. Take me back, Rustin, if only you can forgive the filth that spewed from my mouth.”
“It was truth.”
I cast about for a stick, found none. “Cut a branch and beat me, I beg you.”
Despite himself he smiled. “Why, such humility.”
I cried, “Help me forgive myself!”
He dropped to his knees, brushed my face with soft fingers. “What have they done to you?”
I shuddered. “Never ask.” I showed him my crooked hand. “This too, and worse within. I thought I was brave, but found I am not. I gibbered and begged, and did whatever Mar asked.”
“Under threat of death?”
“No. Worse.”
Anguished he cried, “I came when I could!”
“Of course.”
“We were besieged! Even a gnat couldn’t—”
“I know, Rust.”
“Tantroth decamped. Tursel led us against Mar’s brigade. The instant the path was clear I took Anavar and—”
“Think thou I chide thy absence?”
“I left you, over petty words. My fault you went to Tantroth and were taken. My fault the ruin of your face—but it’s a small scar, and time will heal—I didn’t mean—”
I pressed his lips shut. “It’s frightful to look upon, but I care not. As long as you don’t blench.” And so long as Tresa will have me, added a small voice within. But that was for later. Now, I must wield my Still. “Could you care for me without beauty?”
He kissed my scar.
Yet must I speak True. “I burn for Tresa. But I can’t have her. Must I soil my bed alone?”
He drew sharp breath. “You’d yet have me ... ?”
“As friend. And mentor. And more, as pleases you. Yet I will go to marriage.”
He bowed his head. For a long time he was silent. Then, “Until that day.”
We rode to Cumber, and arrived late in the night. Uncle Raeth, wan and peaked, was home from the hills he fought to hold against the Norlanders. He came forth to hold my horse as I tried to dismount. Anavar thrust his shoulder near, and bore my weight.
Uncle gazed at my cheek. “Oh, Roddy.” His eyes teared.
“Love me, Uncle.” I fell into his arms. Beside us, a torch guttered and went out.
“There, there.” Raeth patted my shoulder blades. “Quick, lads, call Tresa for the healing.” He hugged me tight. “You live, that’s what counts.” He drew back, brushed my hair from my eyes. With a smile, he glanced at the torch. “Let go, or we’ll be groping in the dark.”
With care, we walked to the keep. Within the doors I sank to a bench. “A long night, Rust? I’ll sleep awhile, then—”
Tresa rushed down the stairs. “Are you—
oh!”
Her eyes widened in horror. She made a small sound, covered her mouth, rushed from the hall.
I groped for Rust’s hand. “You’ll have me long, it seems.” I’d meant to sound merry, but something caught my voice. “Please, Rust. Help me to a bed.”
Cumber was lost for words. “Roddy, she didn’t mean ... it isn’t ...”
“Of course.” I sought to wave reassurance, as Rust helped me stand. “The nearest bed, or you’ll need carry me.”
From the doorway, a small voice. “Roddy?”
I spun, and my leg collapsed. Only Rust saved me from falling on my face. “Oh,” I said, and opened my arms. “Oh.”
Elryc ran into my embrace.
I said, “You were dead. They told me ... I never dreamed ...”
He hugged me as hard as I could bear. “I don’t feel dead.”
Was it simply for the pleasure of my pain that Mar told me of Elryc’s death? Had he perhaps thought it true? I knew not, but the joy he took in my grief was a sharp memory. I cursed Margenthar with every oath I’d ever heard. When at last I ran down, Elryc pulled away, looked at my cheek and made a face. “You look awful.”
I giggled. “You’re surely no ghost. Mother will be so pleased.” My heart was too full to say more. Together, they lifted me to a bed.
Morn found me much improved, though my thigh and leg were so stiff I could scarce walk. Our room was far lower in the donjon than the aerie I’d occupied before, but it gave view of the devastation Tantroth had wreaked on Cumber Town. The keep had defied him, so he’d revenged himself against commoners. A foul barbarism, and thank Lord of Nature not customary, else whole realms would be devastated, merely because their nobles went to war.
Over breakfast I told Uncle Raeth, “The remission of taxes you once pleaded ... I grant it, for the restoration of your lands.” A necessary mercy; without my aid Earl Cumber would be hard-pressed. He thanked me profusely.
When he left to consult with his guardsmen I asked Anavar, “How is it Tursel rode to Verein with you?”
The boy grinned. “He said his earl would understand, or he wouldn’t.”
“That covers the possibilities.” I pondered the fealty that led them to my rescue. Once, I’d have believed I deserved it. Now I knew better. Still, I was King, and had duty. “Rust, we’ll need a spear, and a banner with Caledon’s colors.”
“When, my prince?”
“This afternoon, by fifth hour.”
“I’ll have it.”
Anavar hesitated. “Pardon, Lord Rustin, but why do you not call him King?”
Rust said simply, “Rodrigo will ever be my prince.”
Anavar looked between us. When he spoke to me his voice was grave. “My lord, I’ve had long to reflect, under siege.”
“And?”
“Tantroth betrayed you. Safe passage means safe passage, and no other.”
I shrugged. “Perhaps I’d have done the same.”
“No. I know you, now.” He bowed his head. “His act shames me. I renounce fealty to Eiber, so long as Tantroth holds that land. I am yours without reservation.”
“Well, now.” My eyes were too bright, my tone too gay. “Let us rejoice in Caledon’s fortune.” I struggled to my feet. “At the fifth hour, have the gates thrown open. Let the trumpets sound the call.” I hobbled to the door. “I will be alone.”
Rust found me in the garden, an hour later, weeping. I could not say why.
Toward end of day I planted my standard and said brave words about the deliverance of Caledon. Some who heard cheered. Of more matter, others pledged allegiance. A few days later, we made ready to depart. I took as many of Cumber’s troops as I dared; most were needed in the north.
At the moment of riding Raeth’s blue eyes found mine.
Disheartened, I asked, “Uncle, will we meet again?”
He looked north to the dark windswept hills. “Tantroth was a hazard,” he said, “the Norlanders a cataclysm. But, Roddy, I won’t let them have Cumber. Not while I live.” He hesitated. “Many lands will see new lords ere they’re quelled. Perhaps, in Nature’s good time, we shall meet.”
“Fare thee well, sir.”
“And thou, my King.”
Uncle Raeth stood watching until our long column plodded from sight.
We made our way to Groenfil, where I repeated my little play. I knew the Earl would join me; Mar had little to offer him, and my ranks had swelled with deserters from Verein. If rumors were afoot that I treated with demons, I paid no heed.
After receiving the Earl of Groenfil, we rode to Soushire. The Lady Larissa rode out on a white palfrey. I proclaimed my cause and set my standard in the earth. We bickered on how many defenders she’d leave behind, and, at length, turned west toward Stryx.
It was then that we had envoy from Tantroth, Norduke of Eiber. He asked my indulgence, and a parley. I took counsel of Rust, Elryc, and my ancestors, and only when I had their agreement did I give consent.
Tantroth rode alone into my camp under truce, to beg alliance. Now that he had no home, he would reaffirm the vassalage he’d mocked. I smiled at the irony, but only to myself.
I thought long, and agreed. I made him swear mighty oaths of fealty, that he would doubtless break when it suited him. In the meanwhile, he brought six thousand men to my standard.
So it was, that scarce twenty days after I’d cowered in Mar’s cell, I sat on Ebon, my thigh still aching, at the head of a respectable column. Bright banners fluttered in the breeze. Behind us the horse troops waited patiently, baking and freezing in the winter sun. Farther back, infantry stood at march ready, ten abreast. Behind them, lost from view, were our wagons stuffed with the produce of Cumber, of Groenfil, of Soushire, surrounded by more horse, and a corps of infantry.
Only from the bastion of Stryx could the Norland be defeated. First I must drive the coastal invaders into the sea. Then I must turn to the usurper Mar, who sat in Mother’s seat.
Night after night, when I woke in abject terror, thinking myself still in my cell, and clung to Rustin, weeping, I’d formed the resolve that guided me. I would wrest my castle from Duke Margenthar, or die in the attempt. I would not turn back, and I would not be taken.
Tresa was lost to me. At Cumber, she’d come, day after day, to beg pardon, but I would not heed. I couldn’t bear pity, especially from her. Perhaps someday I’d know a woman. I still writhed in my virginity, and knew the shame of sideways glances, jests I could not be allowed to hear. I would bear it as long as I must.
I looked to my left: to the Baron Anavar, to Elryc, with his faithful Genard a row behind, to my lord Earl Groenfil at the last of the row. To my right sat Rustin of the keep, then fat Lady Soushire, and Tursel of Cumber. Just behind, with his three captains, Tantroth, late of Eiber.
I gave signal, and we rode at the walk, row by row, down the long winding road to Stryx.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
copyright ©1997 by David Feintuch
cover design by Michael Vrana
978-1-4532-9558-8
This edition published in 2012 by Open Road Integrated Media
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