Above the Snowline (20 page)
He looks directly at me but speaks to Oscen. ‘What shall we do with him? Hang him on the Broad Road? Is that gibbet empty yet?’
Oscen swallows. ‘Your Highness . . .’
‘What is this about?’ I shout.
‘I know you are planning to depose me. Dismount!’
I do so and he approaches. ‘How could you expect to keep it secret? How could you imagine you would succeed?’ He throws the question open and the courtiers shake their heads uneasily. Mindful of the fact I am still their target, I raise my hands. He comes closer and places his palm on my forehead. ‘Oh, Raven. Are we not the same? Don’t I know your thoughts every minute, every day? I even know what you’re thinking now.’ I flinch away but he continues. ‘You’re wondering whether to bluster you’ve no idea what this means. Well, pleading ignorance won’t do; I know everything. Oscen, if you please . . .’
Reeve Oscen steps from his courser and draws a coil of cord from the saddlebag. He takes my bow, unclips my quiver from the saddle, then holds out his hand for my sword. I unbuckle my belt and hand it to him, with rapier and poniard. It is the ultimate disgrace. I hang my head and my wings droop open and brush the wet grass. I say, ‘I demand a fair trial.’
‘This
is
your trial,’ says Tarmigan.
is
your trial,’ says Tarmigan.
Oscen gives him my weapons then forces my arms behind my back, crosses my wrists and binds them tightly. Overcome with emotion, I glance down to hide it, then feel a burst of defiance and sneer, ‘You’re very sure of yourself.’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘But if you’re wrong . . .’
Tarmigan smiles and with his lance point goads me back onto my horse, which is difficult to mount with my hands tied, and they all snigger at the comedy. Another courtier has skinned the lion and presents the pelt to Tarmigan, who arranges it on his cantle. He leads back to the encampment constructed in a clearing for the week’s hunts and nightly feasts. Oscen takes my horse’s reins and follows in procession, then the courtiers at my back, still with arrows at string. As we ride the wind blows the long grass in waves and above us the boughs hiss my shame. I sit straight-backed, looking forward, trying to maintain a semblance of dignity, though I have a dry lump of bile blocking the back of my throat. I had hoped for the silver throne, and now my future is to be a dank jail cell - or, more likely, a fatal hunting ‘accident’ by the end of the day.
Ladies run out of the beautiful pavilions of organza silk and millefleurs-painted wood to meet us. They see me and their smiles become looks of horror. Their hands fly to their mouths. They turn to each other questioning, chattering. I stay expressionless and all the time the trees shush like surf on shingle.
Tarmigan shoves me ahead, through the doorway surrounded by blue climbing roses, down a passage of ruched velvet and cloque satin artificed to resemble the forest, and into a milk-white hall of dovetailed planks with columns and a fake balustrade above the portal - a copy of the Rachiswater throne room. Tarmigan has had the silver throne of Awia brought to his hunting camp.
A huge, liver-coloured pointer rises from her cushion and schoozles her nose into his hand. He leaves me standing in the middle of the hall and throws himself into the throne. He turns sideways, kicks his legs over the armrest, crosses them and says, ‘Francolin Wrought put you up to it.’
I hesitate, then decide not to compound my indignity with bluster. ‘Who told you?’
‘A king’s ears are everywhere.’ He takes a glass of wine from a side table which matches the elegant throne. ‘Would you believe Reeve Estaminet has very uncharacteristically volunteered to become a gladiator?’
I nod unhappily.
‘Francolin has taken a hands-on interest in the Insect war.’
‘No, he hasn’t. Tell me what you’ve done to him.’
Tarmigan drains his glass. ‘I petitioned the Emperor to make him governor of Lowespass. As the position is currently empty, and as Francolin was a distinguished warrior in his youth, San agreed to send him to the front.’
‘He’s seventy.’
‘He’s a traitor. He is moving to Lowespass Fortress as we speak, where as governor he will answer directly to the Castle. Isn’t it useful that the Castle has one manor under its control? Naturally, he was obliged to resign governorship of Wrought, and leave it to his daughter. Now, all traitors to the crown may be hung—’
‘By law, only the common people.’
‘Fuck the law. You were going to bloody
kill me
!’ He unhooks his knees from the armrest, straightens up and leans forward. ‘How could you plan to kill me, Raven? Wouldn’t it be destroying part of yourself? Wouldn’t it be like seeing yourself die? God knows, I couldn’t do it . . .’ His expression of refined mock sorrow makes him look as if he almost believes what he’s saying. ‘I will send you to the fortress prison on Teron Island, where you will remain in solitary confinement but for one mute guard until the end of your days.’
kill me
!’ He unhooks his knees from the armrest, straightens up and leans forward. ‘How could you plan to kill me, Raven? Wouldn’t it be destroying part of yourself? Wouldn’t it be like seeing yourself die? God knows, I couldn’t do it . . .’ His expression of refined mock sorrow makes him look as if he almost believes what he’s saying. ‘I will send you to the fortress prison on Teron Island, where you will remain in solitary confinement but for one mute guard until the end of your days.’
I look at the painted vines above his head; curling stalks and stylised bunches of grapes. A golden eagle perching on a stand in the corner watched us solemnly, and I returned its gaze.
My brother suddenly beamed. ‘You won’t plead, will you? Neither would I. You’re not afraid; you just want to know your fate. I would, in your place! Well, then, I have a proposal, Raven, and you have a choice . . . Hm . . . You can’t be comfortable with your arms tied?’
‘I’ve lost all sensation.’
‘Oscen? Where are you, Oscen? Undo him so he can sit down.’ This being accomplished I sit on a bench rubbing my wrists, and my brother pulls a chest from behind a gauze divider. He drags it to my feet, snaps the catch back and raises the lid. Inside is a luxurious grey fur. He lifts it out, revealing a stack of silver bars beneath, and runs one arm under it, as if he is a merchant.
‘For years our outposts in Darkling have been sending us such sought-after pelts. They also send us silver and precious stones, and the mountain lions we enjoy hunting so much.’ He produces a purse and shakes cabochons of sapphire, ruby and emerald onto his palm. ‘A few prospectors venture into the wilderness but mostly, I am told, the savages can be taught to fetch these. The mountain limit of my manor yields tall pines too, even fit for masts. Some of my subjects make a life for themselves there and exploit them. I would like to further the opportunity. I would like to, pardon the expression, kill two birds with one stone. I propose that you extend Awia by leaving the western reaches of this manor to found your own beside it. And
never return
.’
never return
.’
‘This is exile,’ I say.
‘So it is.’
A folded map is lying on the silver ingots. I begin to feel tentatively relieved that I might survive the day, so I pick up the map and concertina it open. It represents the lower Darkling peaks, where the Pelt Road peters into the alien Turbary Track, and a near-rectangular area has been carefully outlined with red dots. ‘Carnich,’ I say. My accent scuffs the pronunciation and it comes out ‘Carniss.’
My brother nods. ‘It would bring glory to our family and to Awia. I know you’re ambitious and frustrated; you’ve been in my shadow too long. I’m giving you a chance to govern your own manor, manage it however you wish, and make it prosper. You will, of course, send us taxes. In time you could expand it. You could even send hardy mountain soldiers to the fyrd. Think how that would impress the Emperor!’
This is just a rock surrounded by snow, I reflect. I might as well be on Teron Island. ‘But—’
‘Ah! Raven intrigues against his king and then raises a “but”! Oscen, did you hear that? Shut up, brother; you’re in no position to bargain. You have choice enough: exile in Darkling as the governor of a new manor, or life imprisonment in Teron. Or you could top the bill with Estaminet the Gladiator and go out in a blaze of glory in a ring full of Insects . . .’
I say nothing.
Tarmigan continues, ‘I will give you a loan every year in return for the goods -’ he clenched his fist to make the jewels clack ‘- and little by little I will decrease the loan until you are rightfully selling them to Rachiswater. You will be self-sufficient, no longer reliant on the palace. Then you will rule the manor in your own right and it is yours to bequeath.’
I nod reluctantly.
Reeve Oscen pipes up, ‘Your lancers are ready, Your Highness.’
Tarmigan becomes more serious. ‘You’re exiled for life, Raven. When you reach Carniss you may never set foot across the boundary again, or you’ll
plead
to be sent to Teron. If you return to lowland Awia, unscrupulous governors or reeves could use you in their schemes. I can’t let it happen.’ His hand on his rapier hilt, he turns his back on me and speaks to the wall. ‘And you look too much like me. We are indistinguishable.’ He whips round and instantly I see his rapier gleaming in front of my face, all the way back to his outstretched hand. My cheek stings - blooms into a great pain and sudden wetness. I bury my face in my hands and see them filling with blood! I look up at him in horror.
plead
to be sent to Teron. If you return to lowland Awia, unscrupulous governors or reeves could use you in their schemes. I can’t let it happen.’ His hand on his rapier hilt, he turns his back on me and speaks to the wall. ‘And you look too much like me. We are indistinguishable.’ He whips round and instantly I see his rapier gleaming in front of my face, all the way back to his outstretched hand. My cheek stings - blooms into a great pain and sudden wetness. I bury my face in my hands and see them filling with blood! I look up at him in horror.
He crooks his arm, withdraws the rapier, and wipes it on the fur. The gash across my cheek burns and blood streams down into my collar. I fold my handkerchief and try to staunch the flow.
‘Now people will be able to tell us apart. You won’t creep back and become impostor king in my place.’ He sits down on the throne, the rapier across his knees, and his hateful iridescent armour opals from metallic orange to bottle green. ‘Goodbye, Raven.’
I bow to him and my blood drips on the floor. Oscen puts his hand on my shoulder and accompanies me out, past the awed ladies, to where mounted lancers are waiting, surrounding my black horse who neighs when he sees me.
Magnificent Rabicano, much the best horse in the world, the fastest courser and my only friend. Well groomed, hair like velvet, polished hooves and braided tail. It is just me and you now, Rabicano. I climb up into his saddle and sit with the blood pouring down my face.
Tarmigan is a better swordsman than I am. I swear I never saw his rapier move and then he sliced me like the lion. I bite my teeth together with hatred. I am resilient. It may take one year, it may take thirty, but I’ll return with an army of my own.
‘Have a swift journey, my lord prince,’ says the damnably obsequious Oscen.
‘Oscen?’
‘Yes?’
‘One day you’ll call me king.’
A lancer with his visor down, like a masked executioner, takes Rabicano on a long rein and leads me from the camp, out of the woodland, and out of the manor I once called home.
Ha! I was in such a brown study there. I pushed my chair back and went to the fireplace, where whole logs were burning. I rested my elbow on the stone mantelpiece, put one foot up on the tiled surround and looked down past the carved strapwork designs and my blank escutcheon to the flames. Then I turned round and clasped my hands behind me, warmed my backside and the backs of my legs, while surveying the room with its rich tapestries and painted hangings and the red velvet seats either side of the window.
The first winter was the hardest. Some trappers in Skline village, a little lower down, took me in and gave lodgings to me and my supporters. We shivered and cursed in their miserable log shacks through the whole winter. Some of my followers, who had learnt where I was hiding, came to join me, bringing provisions that saved our lives. As the weather grew more clement their trickle swelled to a stream. Snipe was the first to arrive. Tarmigan had exiled him too, so he came to join me. He may have a multitude of failings but he is bone-loyal. So loyal, in fact, that he puts my interests ahead of his own. I was so relieved to see a steadfast ally that I made him my steward. He began life as a cottar and was only accustomed to farm labour, but he is proving very adept as my second-in-command.
When spring came the deep drifts began to melt. The torrent thawed and began gushing milky with rock dust from the glacier again. I started to build and Snipe descended to Rachiswater to call for settlers. He advertised in newspapers, pasted up posters, notified the town criers, and hundreds of people came to the meeting at his old farm outside town. Some were cottars with no better prospects in life, some were youths or ex-soldiers looking for adventure. Experienced hunters and miners offered their services and entrepreneurs appeared hoping to find riches in Darkling. So did any number of outlaws who realised I would give them reprieve if they worked for me. Every man prepared to work hard was a useful man, and they respected me too. The harsh conditions have made them dependent on me.
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