Griffin's Destiny (13 page)

“Don’t be daft, m’lord!” Claudia scolded. “Me? Not work hard? What good would I be if I couldn’t work, eh? I’m still just as strong as th’ day I delivered you and laid you squawkin’ on yer mam’s belly!” Though the top notes of her voice rang with bravado, Magnes heard an unmistakable undertone of resignation. Claudia, like most common-born folk who managed to survive into old age, was a fatalist, and quite prepared to accept whatever came, be it restored good health or death.

“I’ll find an easier post for you,” Magnes promised. “You’ve served my family well and faithfully, and you deserve a rest. Let me do this for you.”

“It would be nice t’ get away from all that heat an’ smell,” Claudia sighed.

“It’s settled, then,” Magnes said.

They parted company at the kitchen door, she toward the laundry, he toward the stables. As he stood for a few moments watching his old nurse hobble across the yard, the peace he had enjoyed while sitting with her at breakfast dissolved. Once more, despair slithered up and wrapped him in its clammy embrace.

Got to keep moving
, he thought, as he shook himself and continued on. He had no choice; he could stick to the routine of his duties, run the duchy in his sister’s absence, or go mad.

***

The days drifted by, one very much like another. Magnes drifted as well, trying not to think too much, and above all, trying not to
feel
. Thinking led to remembering, and remembering led to pain. The duke haunted his dreams again, after leaving him in peace for the last few months. To stave off the nightmares, Magnes drank himself into a stupor each night.

Somehow, he managed to crawl from his bed every morning and attend to his duties, though the effort proved more and more difficult with each passing day. He lost all desire for food; everything he put into his mouth tasted like dust. He ate only because he must in order to stay alive, and increasingly, that was beginning to look like endless torment.

At sunrise, on the twentieth day after Thessalina and her army had left to join the Imperial Army, Magnes stood once again on the battlements, looking down and wondering how long it would take to hit the ground should he decide to jump. Gazing out from the dark, terrible place that had become his prison, death seemed like the perfect choice, if only he had the courage.

He blinked…and found himself on the wall, crouched between two crenellations. He blinked again…and rocked on his heels, fingers caressing the rough stone. He blinked a third time and relaxed into the embrace of the air…only to have unseen hands snatch him backward.

A man’s voice, shrill with distress, cried out his name. Strong arms wrapped about him, pinning him against a leather and metal-clad body.

“Gods! Lord Magnes, what’re ye doin’? Ye almost fell off’n the wall!”

A shaft of sunlight pierced the veil of clouds that squatted on the horizon, dazzling Magnes’ eyes. He lifted a hand to his face and it came back wet with tears.

“I…I don’t know what I’m doing,” he stammered. “Help me!”

“Just tell me how, milord!” The guardsman released Magnes from his bear hug but stood close, his broad face twisted with confusion.

Magnes started at the man and dredged a name from somewhere deep in his memory. “Talin.” he croaked.

“Come down to the yard with me, milord,” Talin coaxed. “Please!” As he spoke, the guard inserted himself between Magnes and the wall.

Magnes nodded in acquiescence and allowed Talin to lead him down. At the bottom of the steep stairs, the guardsman touched his forehead in salute, then stood regarding his lord with embarrassed concern. He seemed at a loss as to what to say or do next.

Poor bastard. It isn’t every day one’s lord attempts to throw himself from the battlements
, Magnes thought.

“Thank you, Talin.” Magnes couldn’t bear to look at the guardsman’s face, for fear the pity he had see in the other man’s eyes would shatter him completely. What had happened—no, what had
almost
happened—up there on the wall filled him with nearly as much shame and horror as the original act that had precipitated it.

Talin ducked his head and kicked at an imaginary clod of dirt. “Don’t need no thanks, milord. Just doin’ my duty,” he replied. “Will you be all right now, milord?”

Magnes nodded. “You may return to your post,” he said.

The guard bowed again and started back up the stairs. Just before rounding the first curve, he turned and glanced over his shoulder at Magnes, shook his head, then disappeared from view. Magnes sighed. By nightfall, the entire castle would be abuzz with the news that the duchess’s brother had tried to kill himself.

Magnes had known he teetered on the crumbling edge of a cliff and, sooner or later, he would fall. Perhaps the gods themselves had a hand in his rescue, perhaps not; either way, he knew he had to do something, change
something
, in order to step back from the brink.

Only one person could help him now.

***

Greenwood Town lay a day’s ride from Amsara Castle. Magnes’ final destination stood on the town’s eastern edge, set back from the road down a tree-lined path. He arrived just as the sun touched the crowns of the trees, setting them afire.

A big black dog chuffed up the path to greet him, letting loose a single deep bark, but the effort proved too lackadaisical to cause any alarm. Magnes’ horse Storm snorted in equine disdain. A child’s piping laughter floated on the warm air, commingling with the happy squeals of an infant. Storm plodded on, escorted by the black dog, and soon the house came into view.

Magnes drew rein at the gate and swung from the saddle. A boy of about seven summers sat cross-legged in the middle of the yard, entertaining a toddler with puppets made of twigs and bits of brightly colored cloth. The boy looked up as Magnes tied Storm to the fence post, then pushed open the gate.

“Ma’s out back,” the boy announced. He had a narrow, well-sculpted face beneath a shock of black hair, high cheekbones and dark intelligent eyes.

Magnes smiled. “Is your father at home?” he asked. The boy shook his head, quick and sharp as a bird.

“Naw. Da’s off with th’ duchess, fightin’ in the war,” he replied.

Of course
, Magnes thought. “Will you go and fetch your mother, then?” The boy’s brow furrowed as if he were thinking very hard. Abruptly, he nodded, dropped the puppets, climbed to his feet, then swung the baby into his arms. Staggering under his burden, he disappeared around the side of the house. Magnes waited.

After he had counted forty of his own heartbeats, she appeared.

Magnes had always been able to discern her thoughts just by reading the subtle cues of eyes, brow, and mouth, but as the young woman approached, wiping her hands on a clay-stained apron, her face remained unreadable. She stopped an arm’s length away and simply looked at him, hands hanging at her sides. The boy came to stand beside her, the baby still in his arms.

“Hello, Livie,” Magnes murmured.

I heard you’d disappeared after the duke died,” Livie said.

The wind that always came with sunset rattled the tree branches overhead. It lifted the hem of Livie’s skirt and blew strands of her raven hair across her brow.

“I went south to Darguinia.”

Magnes searched Livie’s face in vain for a clue to her thoughts. The toddler, a girl, began to fuss, but before she launched into a full tantrum, Livie scooped her out of the boy’s arms.

“Come inside,” she said. “It’s getting too dark out here.” She turned and led the way into the cottage. Once inside, she plopped the baby onto a rug before the hearth, then moved around the room, lighting the lamps with a burning splinter. “Sarian, go fetch me some bacon from the smokehouse,” she called out over her shoulder and the boy scampered out the door.

Magnes settled on a stool by the hearth and waited for Livie to finish her task. The baby had found a bit of fluff on the rug and was absorbed in pulling it apart with her chubby fingers. Magnes took a deep breath as he wrestled with his pain and regret, but the feelings proved too strong to be easily vanquished.

This should have been our home and our child
, he thought.

“Her name is Rose,” Livie said. She pulled a chair up beside him and sat. “She’s just past her second birthday.”

“She’s beautiful,” Magnes managed to answer. He feared he would sob if he said any more.

“Sarian is my husband’s son by his first wife,” Livie explained. “She died giving birth to him. I’m the only mother he’s ever known.”

They both looked up as the boy burst into the room, out of breath and carrying a chunk of smoked meat. Livie stood up, took the bacon from his hands, and carried it to the table. Sarian followed, licking grease from his fingers. Livie sliced the meat, laying the strips on a platter while the boy watched, shifting from foot to foot.

“C’n I have a piece now, Ma?” he asked.

“Be patient, love,” Livie replied gently. “Ma’s almost done.”

“Sarian,” Magnes called out. “Come over here and talk to me.” After a final, lingering glance at the food, the boy spun about and flung himself on the floor at Magnes’ feet. He looked up, regarding his mother’s visitor with all the gravity a seven year old could muster.

“Are you my uncle?” he asked.

“No. I’m an old friend of your ma’s,” Magnes replied.

“D’you know my da?”

“No. I’ve never met your father, although I’m certain he’s a very good man.” Magnes glanced at Livie, but her face was turned away from him.

“That’s my sister,” the boy said, pointing at the baby. “She can’t talk so good now, but she’s learnin’. I’m teachin’ her.”

“That’s just what a big brother is supposed to do, Sarian. Teach his little sister everything he knows.”

“Supper’s ready,” Livie announced. The boy jumped to his feet and rushed to the table.

“I’d like to wash my hands first,” Magnes said.

“Sarian, show our guest to the basin.”

“Awww, Ma, I wanna eat…” Livie’s frown cut short the boy’s complaint. “C’mon,” he huffed, beckoning to Magnes with a wave of his small hand.

Stifling a chuckle, Magnes followed the child outside. Sarian led him around the house to a stone basin filled with water. Magnes rinsed his hands and face, and after a moment’s hesitation, Sarian followed suit.

When they returned, Livie had laid out a simple meal of bacon, cheese, bread and apples on the round oak table. A dish of fresh butter and blackberry preserves for the bread, a jug of beer for the grown-ups and milk for the children completed the repast. Magnes took a chair beside Sarian while Livie seated herself opposite, cradling baby Rose on her lap.

She handed Magnes a plate. “Why are you here, Magnes?” she asked, and for the first time since he had arrived, he sensed her emotions.

She’s furious but trying hard not to lose control.

Magnes chewed and swallowed a mouthful of bacon before answering. “I needed to talk to someone who knows me better than I know myself,” he replied softly.

“And you thought that someone was me?” Livie’s biting tone cut him like the jagged edge of a broken mirror, adding to his already prodigious collection of mental wounds.

“Whatever you think I’ve done, or didn’t do, please know I’m so very sorry.”

“It’s too late for regrets.” Livie sighed.

“I can’t change the past, but
you
don’t know the whole truth.” Magnes paused to collect his thoughts before continuing. “My father told me just before…before he died, that he had deliberately lied to you to make you think I’d tossed you aside.
He
did that to us. He thought if I believed I’d lost you, I’d go meekly into a marriage with a girl I loathed. He was wrong, and all of us paid dearly.”

Livie’s face crumpled as he spoke and tears spilled down her cheeks. “Why are you telling me this now?” she whispered.

“Because I need you to understand what happened. I never abandoned you or stopped loving you.”

Livie covered her face with her hands.

Sarian watched, wide-eyed. “Don’t be sad, Ma,” he said, laying a hand on her forearm. “Da will be home soon.”

“Yes, love. I know.” Livie wiped her eyes on the hem of her apron, then took a long drink from her beer mug. Magnes remained silent, sensing she needed to just sit for a while.

Finally, Livie spoke. “Sarian, take your sister and go sit by the hearth. Ma needs to talk her friend about grown-up things.”

“But I haven’t finished supper yet.” The boy stuck out his lower lip.

“Take your plate and cup first, then come back for your sister. Go on now.” Livie brushed gentle fingers through the child’s dark hair. With a huff, the boy did as he was told.

After both children had settled out of earshot, Livie said, “My husband and I have made a good life for ourselves. Our pottery business is thriving. Our children are strong and healthy. When I came to Greenwood to marry Jonus, I swore to myself I’d give my entire heart to him, make the effort to love him as he deserved to be loved, and for the most part, I’ve kept that vow.” She regarded Magnes with eyes grown hard.