The King (Rodrigo of Caledon Book 2) Page 11

  It wasn’t fair, by any means. Did my regent have power to delegate his will? And to a commoner, a mere bodyguard? When I reproached Rust on the point, his manner became so frosty I dropped the matter entirely.

  Elryc drank of his wine. His face was flushed. “You were mad, appointing a regent.”

  I snapped, “Twice you’ve seen my spite with Genard. Almost, I had Tanner flayed, before I caught myself. With the Still augmenting my nature, I’m beyond my own governing.”

  “I know you love Rustin, but—”

  “I respect him.”

  “—but to put Caledon in his hands! Should not your council have say in such matters?”

  “I had no time. I was crouched under a wagon, looking for still water to agonize Rust. It was that or abdicate.”

  A silence, while he contemplated the tile of his bedchamber. “Roddy?” His voice was hushed, amazed. “You really want to be a proper king.”

  Unable to speak, I nodded.

  His frail hand sought my shoulder. “I’m glad.” He sipped more wine.

  After a time I said, “There’s truth in your worry. Rust can be ... imperious.”

  “He has power without check.” Elryc sighed. “What does Mother think?”

  I snorted. “That I’m a boy, and a regent is fit and proper.” She’d been somewhat surprised and questioned me closely. In the end, she’d approved of my choice of Rustin. Her father, Tryon, had raised no objection. Cayil had growled that if Rustin grew too troublesome, I could kill him. They seemed not to mind that it would cost me the Still.

  “Roddy, I don’t like Jestrel.”

  “He asks too many questions.”

  “That’s just curiosity. But he’s mean to the servants.”

  I shrugged. Elryc was always fretting about servants. “He’ll go his own way at Cumber.” If Rust approved his sharing our journey. I’d forgotten to ask.

  “Why would he ride to a siege?” Elryc’s voice was dreamy, as he toyed with his goblet. “There are peaceful places to go.”

  “I doubt he’ll tarry in Cumber.” The Norlands were near, as was Eiber, and even the Ukra Steppe. One with Jestrel’s talent could always find a home. Perhaps I ought to invite him stay with us, but I feared his refusal. A silversmith, above almost all men, avoided lawless lands, lest his wares be ransacked.

  Elryc said, “You’ll take me with you, this time.”

  “So an ague can—”

  “Genard will look after me.” He giggled.

  “You’ve drunk too much—”

  “Rodrigo! Rustin!” Anavar, skidding past Elryc’s chamber on his way to mine.

  I thrust open the door. “What is it?”

  He was scarce of breath. “Lady Soushire’s in her chamber, taken ill.”

  Cursing, I ran down the steps. Lady Soushire had been housed in Margenthar’s opulent quarters, on the first floor.

  At her door, a servant barred my way. “She has a flux. The physicker is with her.”

  “Get out of—” I pushed him aside, shouldered my way through to Larissa’s outer room.

  Earl Groenfil stopped his pacing. “She’s gravely ill. It came on her just after she ate.” Through the window, in the courtyard, wind whipped the bushes.

  The physicker’s boy rushed out of the inner chamber, sped out the door. In a moment, he was searching boxes in their cart.

  I said lamely, “Is there anything I—”

  “First Freisart, now Larissa.” Groenfil’s voice was hot. “What game play you?”

  “How dare you!” My hand leapt to my dagger.

  “If you covet a noble’s lands, poisoner, hazard mine.” The window crashed to shards, as the wind snapped its stay.

  I whipped out my blade.

  “No, my lord!” Anavar wrapped his arms around me, dragged me backward. I shook him loose.

  Groenfil drew his sword.

  “Hold, the lot of you!” Rustin, in a voice that would sunder steel. “Roddy, to your chamber.”

  “Rust, he called me a—”

  “I heard.” He shoved me rudely toward the stair. “How dare you draw steel on a vassal? And you!” He rounded on Groenfil. “Have you fact to voice a charge so foul?”

  “She was well as I, before she ate of—”

  “Have you cause to accuse your king?” Rustin’s eyes gave me chill.

  “No fact, save the obvious compar—”

  “Roddy, begone. Anavar, take him upstairs.” He swung back to Groenfil. “Obvious, is it? Not an hour after a meal, you know she was poisoned, and can name—”

  “Sir, come.” Anavar tugged at my sleeve.

  “Wait.”

  “Now, before Rustin ...” He leaned close to my ear. “Don’t provoke him further, sir. For your sake.”

  I allowed myself to be dragged out, and took the stairs two at a time, to my chamber.

  By the time Rustin joined me, Anavar had borne the full fury of my fulminations.

  Rust threw off his cloak. “Anavar, out.”

  I said cautiously, “Please let him stay, sir. He’s advised me well.”

  Rust raised an eyebrow. “Anavar, what did you advise our king?”

  Anavar said only, “My speech is for Rodrigo to divulge, if he would.”

  “It’s you I order.”

  “Without warrant.”

  “Please!” I stepped between them. “Rust, he advised that I be exceedingly polite, when you came.”

  A grudging smile. “And about Groenfil?”

  “That I should have held my peace. And that the Earl was mad with worry.”

  “Yes. Do you know why?”

  “He’s grown a love for Lady Larissa, and she for him. How is she?”

  “Still alive. The physicker won’t say more.”

  I took deep breath. “How may I redeem our cause?”

  “Wait ’til Groenfil calms. When he sees there’s been no poison—assuming that’s so—he’ll be mortified. You’ll humbly beg his pardon and put him at disadvantage.”

  “Is it that easy?”

  “I think ...” Rustin laced his new shirt. “It was but a quarrel of the moment. Under all, he respects you and would have you as king.”

  “To my lord Rodrigo, king of Caledon and my liege lord, fond greetings from his cousin Tresa of Cumber.

  “Rodrigo, it’s wonderful! Danzik himself in your hands ... Hriskil must be livid. How did you ever do it?

  “The moment the horseman rode through the gate, your missive tucked under his cloak, I tore the seals off and read it, there in the courtyard, the wind blowing my hair. Immediately I sent a courier to Grandfather; he needs all the good news he can get. Hriskil presses him hard, and may soon take Pezar.

  “In the meanwhile, Duke Tantroth is beside himself to retake his citadel, and demands we loan him troops. He accuses Grandfather of ‘improvident delay,’ in a tone that suggests cowardice is the cause. Roddy, I hesitate to meddle in matters of state, but might you speak to him? Tantroth has a harsh manner that only sets Grandfather’s teeth on edge, and Imbar’s sarcastic commentary only inflames him further.

  “Hriskil moves ever more troops through Eiber to our border. Tantroth mutters, in Grandfather’s hearing, that you will abandon us both. My lord king, I know full well you will come when you can, and that you treasure Grandfather and Cumber. Pay no heed if you hear Tantroth’s calumny repeated elsewhere; I tell you only that you may be forewarned.

  “Thy cousin and friend, Tresa of the House of Cumber, scans the castle road, eagerly awaiting thy next writing.”

  Once Lady Larissa was purged of the rotted meat that sickened her, two servants, and Jestrel the silversmith, her recovery was swift. Two days later, she was eating as before, with perhaps a bit extra to make up for lost bulk.

  I took Groenfil aside, apologized profusely for daring to draw my blade, and gave him the very dagger as a present of exculpation. It was a nice touch, one Rustin hadn’t thought of, and it softened the earl’s visage. We agreed to put the matter behin
d us, and swore renewed oaths of trust.

  Afterward, in the great hall, Jestrel’s tone was meek, as befit one asking boon of a king. “Might I ride as far as Cumber?”

  I had to take care in my reply. Daily, Rustin was growing more insistent on a regent’s prerogative; any decisions I announced without consulting him, he claimed I barred him from making. Twice we’d debated the matter, with increasing heat, until I realized that by my vows I’d surrendered what weapons might sustain my end of the dispute.

  “I can’t guarantee passage.” It wasn’t truly an answer.

  “Think you Hriskil will bar the way?”

  The great hall was drafty, and I shivered. The season was inconstant, the sun sullen and elusive. “I imagine he will, yes. Is not our aim to seek each other out?” And if Hriskil had the sense Lord of Nature gave a cow, he’d block our path before we linked with Uncle Raeth of Cumber, and near doubled our force.

  “Will you seek battle this side of Cumber Town?”

  “I—” My mouth snapped shut. Jestrel had cause for concern that he might be swept up in battle without quarter. But Hriskil would pay well to know my intent. I managed an evasion, sent him on his way, promising I’d consider his request to ride with us.

  I glanced at the hour candle. I was due at a lesson with Danzik. Inexplicably, Rust had insisted that, as far as punctuality, I treat Danzik with the courtesy due any tutor, though few other pedagogues were chained to the wall of their chamber. “Where’s Genard?” I’d grown used to his company at my lessons.

  “Here, m’lor’.” He scurried down the hall in my train. “Rodd—M’lor’, don’t let him goad you.”

  “Is that an order?”

  Genard reddened. “No, m’lor’. Sorry. It’s just ... why allow him the pleasure?”

  Kadar swept open the door. I took my place at the opposite wall from Danzik; any closer and I risked Kadar’s intervention.

  “Liste memor,” I said carefully. “I’m ready to learn.”

  Danzik grunted. His bedchamber was small but adequate, and he’d been given a decent rope bed instead of the straw a prisoner might expect. “Rez.”

  “King.” It was one of the first words he’d taught me.

  “Mata.”

  “Mother.”

  “Modre.”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Kill,” said Genard. “Murder.”

  Danzik pointed to the bed. “Camm,” he said.

  “Camm,” I repeated dutifully. “Bed.”

  He walked as far as his chain would let him, and taught me the word for walking, then mimed running, and sitting. I struggled to memorize the harsh sounds.

  Then, “Mata ke Rez Caledi er tupa.”

  Genard drew sharp breath.

  I studied my fist, willing it to open. Then, casually, as if it were of no import, I translated. “The King of Caledon’s mother is a whore. Ev Rez Caledi modre Danzik.”

  For the first time, a grin blossomed. “Modra,” said Danzik.

  “Modra.” Will murder.

  The rest of the lesson went without incident.

  After, Genard and I climbed the steps to my chamber. “I thought you’d explode,” he said.

  “I have you to thank that I didn’t.”

  He threw me a suspicious glance.

  “I mean it. You warned me ahead of time. Thank you.”

  It left him muddled and confused. Massaging my scar, I hid a smile the rest of the way.

  Eight

  BY THEIR TWOS AND threes, handfuls and scores, men gathered to the banner of Caledon, drawn by the silver pence for their enlistment, and perhaps even by loyalty to the crown. Castle and Keep grew crowded with newcomers, while Tursel and Groenfil struggled to set them in order.

  South of Stryx, our new earthworks were garrisoned, though in truth if the Norlanders came in strength, they could simply flank the breastworks.

  I was impatient to set forth, but an army didn’t march by valor alone. I was beset by wagoners, purveyers of a breathtaking array of goods, coopers, armorers, arrow makers, blacksmiths, every trade known to the realm and some I’d never imagined. Questions abounded. Clothing, tents, spare parts for wagons, shoes, forage, provisions, harness, leather, wax, thread, needles ... my head spun. I issued warrants, selected from what I was offered, relied on Tursel’s experience to guide me. All the while, our treasury shrank.

  At long last, we set forth. In doing so we left Castle Stryx and Llewelyn’s Keep dangerously undermanned, but in conclave my nobles and I had decided, with Rustin’s assent, that we were better carrying the war to Hriskil than cowering behind defensive positions.

  Willem of Alcazar, Mother’s chamberlain and mine, was put in charge of our defenses. No warrior he, but a sturdy, honest man, loyal to Mother and her house.

  Reluctantly, I let my brother ride with us; he threatened outright rebellion if left behind. Were I to leave him, Elryc said, I had only to look at the edge of our camp to find him and Genard seeking shelter. That, unless I locked him in his chamber. That was too like Uncle Mar for my taste. Rustin left the decision to me, claiming he was more concerned I would squabble with Genard than whether Elryc himself was in our train.

  For a day Rust and I weren’t speaking, from the vehemence of our argument over Danzik. I proposed we bring him along, now that he was making himself useful; Rustin wanted him safe in the castle.

  I’d found for once in my life I was enjoying lessons. Daily, Danzik worked to goad me, with sentence after sentence of humiliations. “Caledon nobles are stupid.” “In Stryx, the king eats excrement.” “The scarred boy has a horse for a father.” The latter took all my self-control, but I was able to smile, repeat the sentence in his speech and mine. After the lesson Genard said something mild to twit me, and it was all I could do not to strangle him.

  Inflicting constant indignities softened Danzik’s rage enough to permit him to teach me well, and I suspected he secretly enjoyed it. The more so when I made it my habit to start each lesson with a pungent insult I’d devised during the night, using words he’d taught me. The more foul my imprecations, the greater Danzik’s respect grew, and after a few days we spoke almost as equals.

  Alternating sulks and beseechments, I finally earned Rustin’s consent to have the Norlander brought along.

  Riding chained to a jouncing wagon must have been uncomfortable, but Danzik made no complaint. I’d offered him the choice of remaining in Stryx, knowing that without his cooperation I could learn nothing from him. When I told him we rode to confront his master, he was eager to go. No doubt he hoped a Norland raid on our wagons would free him.

  We descended the hill of Castle Way, passed through the Keep, and emerged on the north coast road. On the plain outside the Keep we formed our line of march. I was content to let Groenfil and Tursel handle the details, especially after Rustin took me aside and warned me quite sharply not to interfere.

  Jestrel the silversmith drove his wagon in our train. Elryc and Genard were on horse, together always. They rode with Anavar, just behind Rustin, Lord Groenfil, Lady Larissa and me, alongside the place Tursel would occupy if he wasn’t constantly spurring up and down the line.

  We made good time. We soon turned off the coast road, onto Searoad Track, winding its way up the hills toward Sea-watch Rock. The famed landmark jutted from a range of the Caleds between the coast and my great-uncle’s domain of Cumber. At its base our path crossed Nordukes’ Trek, which threaded through the high passes to Eiber and Cumber Trail.

  We lodged for the night just past Seawatch Rock.

  My tent sufficed for four; Anavar and Elryc were to share it with us, but Elryc was so crestfallen at Genard’s absence that Anavar volunteered to sleep elsewhere, and I found myself sharing a roof with a stableboy. No matter; I was tired enough to drift quickly into sleep.

  At dawn they struck the tent, while I leaned yawning against a tree. My bodyguards cantered up, leading Ebon. As I put a foot up to mount, a shadowy form hurtled under Ebon, wound itself a
round my legs.

  Instantly Kadar’s sword flashed.

  “Please, King!” On his knees, my bondsman Bollert clasped me tight.

  “Hold!” I raised a hand to Kadar, gripping the pommel to keep from toppling. “He means no harm.” I untangled myself. “How’d you escape?” I’d left him bound, in a locked bedchamber.

  “He hooded me!” Bollert was clammy with sweat. “Soon as you left. Said wouldn’ let demon look at ’im.”

  “Who?”

  “Guard.” The boy licked his lips. “Made me berserk. When I stopped screaming, asked for drink, and for jus’ a moment, could see.”

  “You spelled him?”

  “Hadda! Please, King. You said no hood.” He bowed his head, brushed my boot with his forelock.

  “You made him unchain you?”

  “Made him think it, aye. Then ran. Gateman too.”

  “Why follow me, Bollert? Why not flee to the hills?”

  He swallowed. “Made me bond man, you did. Gotta stay with. Beside, lookin’ not always strong enough. Can’t always get away. Don’ want be hang for escape, and don’ know no place but Stryx.”

  I pried loose his fingers, wiped my breeks. “Rust?”

  “Didn’t I tell you?” His tone was sour. “A noble gesture, but you saddled yourself with ...”

  “Since you won’t decide, I will.” I was scarce awake and heedless of his wrath. “Bollert, walk alongside Tanner. Be warned, you teeter on the gallows’ edge. Run away, or set your compulsion on one of us, and you dance in air.” I heaved myself into the saddle. “Where’s Elryc? Ah, there you are; ride close.”

  I spurred, took my place in the line.

  As we rode, the Earl of Groenfil spoke quietly with Lady Soushire. After a time, he came up alongside. “A word with you, sire.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “That groomsman,” said Groenfil. “The demon-friend.”

  I puzzled it out. “Bollert?”

  “Why curse our trail, my lord? Put an end to him. Is he not thief and worse?”

  Casually, Rust reached across, patted my knee. I allowed myself a breath or two, for diplomacy. “Bollert’s an odd one, my lord, but more afraid of us than we are of him.”