Cobweb Bride (36 page)

“I thank you, Lord Beltain,” she said with a regained measure of grace.

And, amazingly, the knight bowed before her.

“I have seen many things of mystery and wonder, since I have been in your presence,” he said, while his quick all-encompassing gaze touched upon others present, not merely the Infanta. “And I see there is much honor and worth in this Emperor’s daughter. Therefore, it would be a true dishonor on
my
part not to serve her—Your Imperial Highness.”

“And what of your father, the Duke?” Claere Liguon asked.

Beltain’s expression became cold and resolute. “I am hereby forsworn,” he stated suddenly. “My father would have it so that Death does not resume his function. He would fight
for himself
, to remain as he is, neither dead nor alive, and everything else be damned. And I have at last decided that such a course of action is wrong.”

“Will you then swear to serve me?” The Infanta’s smoke-eyed gaze upon him was profound.

“Yes.”

“I have no sword to dub thee as mine,” she whispered, recollecting herself suddenly, as though remembering protocol and courtly manners. “Thus, I will place my hand upon your shoulder, instead of a blade.”

He nodded, and lowered himself, kneeling with some residual difficulty from his weakened state.

And Claere Liguon reached out with her thin hand to acknowledge him. Placing it on his right shoulder then his left, she dubbed her first knight-at-arms.

T
he water boiled in the kettle, and they had a quick drink of tea, before dousing the fire and proceeding back along the path. Percy picked up Betsy’s reins and looked back at the girls in the cart and at the empty clearing behind them.

They were leaving it, to return south through the forest.

The black knight was walking alongside the cart, on the other side of the marquis, and it was the stoic Vlau Fiomarre who now appeared to be the one struggling, at times laboring to take each step.

Beltain claimed he was sufficiently hale enough to be included in the walking rotation, even though there was more room in the cart now, since three of the girls were no longer with them, having been captured by the patrols two days ago. Thus, he moved at a steady pace, with his heavy leather boots, and his composed face did not register any discomfort or pain that he might have been feeling. His heavy black armor plates and helm lay in his place in the cart, together with his blue surcoat in Chidair colors, and he remained unburdened, using the blanket as a cloak over his woolen gambeson.

Percy occasionally glanced back to see if he was shaking from the cold, but he remained stubbornly unaffected by the occasional gusts of wind. Yes, he was definitely on the mend. . . .

The other patient in their cart, Emilie, was also doing surprisingly better. Her fever must have broken overnight, because she was coherent, and had drunk the morning tea with a steady hand, despite her running nose and sunken cheeks.

On the other hand, by this point in the journey, all their noses were running to some extent. Everyone sniffled occasionally, and wiped their faces with the backs of their mittens, and tried to breathe through scarves and other bits of clothing.

The sky remained steadily overcast, but no new snow fell, all through the morning. The path along which they retraced their steps—Betsy’s ‘magical’ path—took them steadily south, through the Chidair land.

At some point they heard the sounds of distant riders, as the Duke’s patrols continued their duties. The forest echoed them, and the tree branches cracked occasionally, but no one approached.

“Do not fear. If my men encounter us, I will keep them from taking any of you,” said the black knight at some point. “Indeed, I would like the chance to talk to them and see if any will come with me, now.”

“You mean, if they would choose to abandon the Duke’s command?” Percy asked.

“Yes.”

“And would they do such a thing on your behalf, Lord Beltain?” asked the Infanta from the back of the cart, where she sat motionless, with neatly folded limbs, next to Emilie.

“I believe,” said Beltain, “a number of them would. The men are all loyal to Chidair—that is never under question. But not all of them see my father as their proper Lord now; I could see it shaping already. The unity in the ranks has been compromised. Instead, there’s uncertainty in their eyes, and hesitation, such as when we were told to bring in the innocents, the poor girls on their way to be Death’s Cobweb Brides—all of
you
. The divide had grown, so that already the dead ride with the dead and the living with the living, on patrol. They separate naturally, without needing to be told.”

“The
dead
ride?” whispered Jenna in horror.

“Some of the dead are with us now, Jen, remember your manners
 . . .” Percy said gently.

“Yes,” Beltain continued, “the dead fill half the Chidair ranks now. During the battle with your Duke Goraque, is when it all happened.
 . . . But, enough.”

“Is that when your father was
 . . . slain?”

“I said, enough.
 . . .” The black knight grew silent, withdrawing into himself.

Percy looked away from the steel expression in his eyes, and instead watched Betsy walking forward in the deep snow.

I
t was around noon, when the ebony war stallion belonging to the black knight thundered onto the path, crashing through the hedge.

He still had his saddle attached, but his blanket was skewed and he was covered with two days’ worth of snow, and he was neighing furiously. But the great horse had apparently seen or heard—or otherwise
sensed
his master’s approach.

“Jack!” the black knight exclaimed. “Am I glad to see you, boy! Come to me, Jack!”

And the stallion immediately approached, quieting, and snorting a few times in relief. When he was just a few paces away from Betsy, Beltain advanced toward him, and took him by the bridle, capturing him easily.

The stallion snorted again, and then reached out to nuzzle his master, who patted him down in turn with a previously undemonstrated affection, and thoroughly examined him with care.

“Good boy!” said Beltain, brushing off the flanks with his strong bare hands, and then checked the feet. At last, he cleared off the white powder from the saddle, and then said with much satisfaction, “Ah! My sword is intact! You did not lose it, Jack!”

And all the girls stared in curious awe as the knight unbuckled a long velvet-trimmed iron scabbard, semi-concealed by the blanket, and partially drew a long blade by the wide pommel, checking it for possible damage. Satisfied, he re-sheathed the sword.

“And now,” said the knight, “I can ride.”

And he easily raised one booted foot in the stirrup, and mounted without assistance. “When next we stop,” he added, “I will don the armor.”

I
t was late afternoon, and the weakling sun shone through the overcast, showing itself in spots. They were halfway through the forest, and almost out of the Dukedom of Chidair, when a patrol drew close enough to cross the path, and thus break whatever enchantment there was that had kept them invisible all this time.

“Halt!” cried their leader, a mounted man-at-arms. And then he saw the black knight, once more fully armed and helmed, riding ahead of Betsy and the cart, and he motioned to his half a dozen men to stand down. “Lord Beltain! It is you! By God, what happened? We’d thought you fallen somehow, and your horse was—”

“Riquar! It’s good to see your blasted beard!” Beltain’s baritone sounded in some relief, Percy noted. “As you can see, I am blessedly unharmed. But tell me, how is my father?”

“The Duke is furious, as you can imagine. He’s looking for you, day and night. He—pardon me, my Lord, but he raves so frightfully that some of us are uncertain as to how to handle him. He’s been riding on patrol himself—
every patrol—
without taking any break, with his—his
other
men, the ones who are like him . . . the
slain
. And as for their horses, I fear, the beasts cannot take this kind of pressure without rest, they need to be changed and fed, and some stable time—”

“I understand. And what of the innocents, the strangers taken?”

“We have our orders,” Riquar said. “But it’s a shame, because we bring them in, the sorry things, and then they are locked up in the Keep with the others. Rumor has it, they may end up . . . well, in a not too good a way, if you understand my meaning, my Lord.”

Beltain watched him with a grave demeanor, seemingly evaluating him.

“Riquar, I am glad I have come upon you, of all my father’s men. Because of what I am about to tell you now—it is something that you might find hard to fathom, or maybe not so hard.”

“What is it, my Lord?”

“I have broken with my father, the Duke Chidair. And I now serve the Imperial Line of Liguon directly—Wait! Before you speak or act in a manner you might regret, consider this—as you say, my father
raves
. He is no longer the same man he was before his life was taken from him. And under God, there is no law that says you, or any of us, must obey the questionable orders of a dead man. . . .”

There was a long pause. And then the man-at-arms called Riquar nodded. “I am
 . . . relieved, my Lord. And yes, I still willingly call you thus—
my Lord—
for you are now the one I would serve.”

Riquar turned around, glancing at his men, some mounted, and a few on foot. They were milling around in some uncertainty. But it was short lived.

“And what of the rest of you? Are any of you still doubtful, or unwilling to be forsworn?” the black knight asked them in a loud commanding voice. “If so, if you have families in the Keep, or fear reprisal, leave now and rejoin my father’s forces. I will not begrudge you that. Otherwise, state your allegiance to me, now.”

There was another pause, a few mutterings about “serving insane dead men,” and then, one by one, they spoke up. “Aye, I pledge myself to you, Lord Beltain Chidair.”

“It is well, then!” the black knight spoke. “I take you as mine. Now, these people behind me are under my protection. Treat them fairly, and we will escort them out of Chidair lands. And then, any of you who are willing, will ride along with me, onward and south.”

The men nodded variously. And then they dispersed on both sides of the path, running or riding discreetly to accompany them through the forest.

Percy felt strangely comforted by the sight of the knight on his great charger, and next to him his new loyal man, riding in the front, conversing in soft voices. At some point they glanced back specifically at the small hooded form of the Infanta, and then resumed talking in circumspect voices. Percy wondered how much truth about the Grand Princess the black knight had imparted to his second-in-command, and whether he intended to keep her royal presence among them mostly a secret, as far as the rest of the men were concerned.

The girls in the cart had grown particularly quiet, and now and then they exchanged whispers and wary glances at their new escort on all sides.

“What if the Duke Hoarfrost himself shows up?” Gloria suddenly whispered. “Will there be a battle?”

“We can only pray, not!” Lizabette retorted, shuddering.

And then they all remained quiet for a very long time, listening to the snow-laden branches crackling in the forest and the occasional birds fluttering in the bare trees.

T
hey reached the place where their narrow secret path joined the large thoroughfare, just as the world dissolved in blue twilight.

“Do not stop here,” said Riquar. “For I know the Duke will be here at some point in the night, with his infernal patrol. Indeed, just a few turns up ahead on the big road is where we make ambush, if you recall, my Lord.”

“Yes, I know.” Beltain pointed with his gauntlet-clad hand further south. “We go at least another league in the direction of Tussecan, past the lake. It should be relatively safe once we are beyond this side of Merlait and in Goraque lands. The truce between Goraque and Chidair holds steady.”

And thus they drove on, now in full dark, without torches, and with the moon barely visible through the overcast. Percy felt her eyelids heavy with drowsiness, her throat parched, and she was numb with the unending cold, barely feeling Betsy’s reins through her mittens.

Just as she was nodding off completely, and jerking awake every few moments, the knight and his men came to a stop ahead. Percy’s heart gave a jolt, which woke her enough to pull up Betsy’s reins without going into a ditch. The other girls in the cart were mostly sleeping, and there were murmurs and yawns.

For once, someone other than Flor started the fire. It was a large roaring fire, and not half as neat or carefully hidden as she would have made it, but then, they—these men—were also more confident and less afraid of every shadow.
 . . .

The horses were tended to and then the men sat down around the flames, and the girls warily joined them, one by one. Then, the kettle was brought out, and water set to boiling for tea.