Authors: John Marco
The Eyes of God (13 page)
L
ukien sat at the end of a pond, absently tossing stones into the water. The sky was bright but his mood was heavy, and as the ripples disappeared he watched them pensively, his mind a hundred miles from his halcyon surroundings. Not far away, Trager sat on a blanket on the green grass, sipping a drink and picnicking on the pheasant Earl Linuk had provided. With him were Durwin and Benn, two Royal Chargers who, like Lukien and Trager, had been left behind in Reec to look after Princess Cassandra. Both men wore broad smiles and greasy smudges on their shirts. Trager was talking and laughing too loudly. The lieutenant had been over-enjoying his wine; Lukien had seen him empty more than one bottle over the course of the afternoon. The Bronze Knight suppressed a sigh and flicked another stone into the lake.
ukien sat at the end of a pond, absently tossing stones into the water. The sky was bright but his mood was heavy, and as the ripples disappeared he watched them pensively, his mind a hundred miles from his halcyon surroundings. Not far away, Trager sat on a blanket on the green grass, sipping a drink and picnicking on the pheasant Earl Linuk had provided. With him were Durwin and Benn, two Royal Chargers who, like Lukien and Trager, had been left behind in Reec to look after Princess Cassandra. Both men wore broad smiles and greasy smudges on their shirts. Trager was talking and laughing too loudly. The lieutenant had been over-enjoying his wine; Lukien had seen him empty more than one bottle over the course of the afternoon. The Bronze Knight suppressed a sigh and flicked another stone into the lake.
For two weeks now he had been in Reec, missing home and enduring Trager’s company. He had been treated well by his Reecian hosts, but he longed to return to Koth, and every day he waited impatiently for word from Akeela, summoning him back. So far, word had yet to come. Akeela had warned him that it could be at least a month before he would return, and the wait was interminable. Castle Hes had been a prison for Lukien, a very pleasant place to die slowly. With only Trager and a handful of Chargers for company, Lukien had been forced to bear the stares of Reecian soldiers and stableboys and the whispers of the castle gossips. Worse, he had been too close to Cassandra. Since Akeela’s departure, the princess had occupied his every thought, and his proximity to her was irksome. Because he was her bodyguard, he was never very far from her, accompanying her to knitting sessions and tea with her sisters and other mind- deadening activities, all the while trying to avert his eyes from her flawless face and figure. Cassandra had remained aloof, mostly, yet she had insisted that he perform his duties as her protector, making sure he was always nearby. From the moment Akeela had gone, they had shared Castle Hes like two uneasy house guests.
But now they were no longer in Castle Hes. They were in Glain, the seaside estate of Earl Linuk. Princess Cassandra, evidently a spoiled brat, had wanted a last holiday. She had left behind her overprotective father for the watchful eyes of Linuk, whom Lukien quickly discovered was something of an adopted uncle to the girl. Linuk doted on Cassandra, opening his house to her and her handmaidens and providing them with all the splendor of Glain in springtime. Of course, Lukien had been given no choice in accompanying Cassandra to Glain. Earl Linuk had made it clear they were all going to spend a week at his estate, and Lukien’s protests had fallen on the earl’s deaf ears. So he had relented, and now sat in warm sunshine as Cassandra indulged herself with a picnic and Linuk’s musicians entertained them. It would have been a good day for Lukien if they were in Koth, if Trager was somewhere else, and the music was Liirian. If Cassandra wasn’t so near.
Lukien lifted his gaze from the pond. On the other side of the water, past the narrow bridge that spanned it, Cassandra was with her friend Jancis. The princess had set up an easel and was painting, enjoying the light of the sun. She seemed to be hard at work, occasionally stepping back from her masterpiece and cocking her head, then lifting her brush again to make corrections. She wore a white dress that caught the sun and contrasted with her raven hair. She had dressed well for their picnic and that surprised Lukien, and occasionally she stole glances across the pond. He watched her for a long moment, and when she discovered him staring at her, the princess frowned. Quickly she returned to her painting.
To Lukien, Cassandra was an enigma. She was barely more than a child, but she had the body of a woman and a keen look in her eyes that belied her innocence. In his many campaigns, he had met women like Cassandra before, those with iron under their soft skin, who longed for a wider role in life. Cassandra was like that, Lukien guessed. After only two weeks with her he knew why she had accepted Akeela’s proposal. She was bored with life in Castle Hes. She was tired of being King Karis’ daughter. The princess wanted to be a queen.
“And of course she will be,” muttered Lukien. That was how it was for royalty—they always got what they wanted. Akeela had blundered into a beautiful wife, and Cassandra, not satisfied with one castle, would soon have two to call home. Lukien leaned back on his palms, a scowl forming on his face. Why was it then that men like him desired things they couldn’t have? Being called a “brother” by Akeela simply wasn’t enough. Women of refinement—women like Cassandra—were kept from him.
“Captain?”
Lukien heard the word as soon as the shadow crossed his face. Over him stood Trager, looking down with a queer smile. The lieutenant had a plate of food in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. It was plain from the dullness in his eyes that he was drunk.
“You haven’t eaten anything,” said Trager. He handed the plate down to Lukien. “I thought you might be hungry.”
Lukien hesitated. Taking the plate might invite Trager to sit down. Since he was indeed hungry, he took his chances by accepting the food—and lost the gamble. Trager sat down immediately, letting out a giant sigh as his rump hit the grass.
“Two glasses,” he called to one of Earl Linuk’s servants.
“Just one will do,” said Lukien.
The servant hesitated. Trager smiled wickedly, then held up two fingers.
“You heard me,” he said.
The servant scurried off. In a moment he returned with a pair of crystal goblets, which he handed to Trager before quickly disappearing. Trager didn’t thank the man but commenced pouring. Lukien glanced down at his food, his appetite gone.
“You’ve been very quiet today, Captain.” Trager handed him a glass of wine. “Are you unwell?”
The question irritated Lukien. “I’m fine,” he replied.
“Then why not enjoy the day?” Trager gestured to their beautiful surroundings. “I know you don’t like this duty, but there’s nothing we can do about it, so why be bothered? There’s wine, music . . .” He glanced across the pond. “And pretty ladies to enjoy.”
Lukien looked up. “What does that mean?”
“It’s just a pretty day, that’s all.” Trager sipped at his wine. He let out a grotesque belch and leaned back on his elbow. “Eat, Captain,” he urged. “It’s very good. Earl Linuk certainly knows how to care for his guests.”
“I thought you said you wouldn’t drink with Reecians,” Lukien reminded him. “Or have you changed your mind?”
Trager shrugged. “Change of heart, I suppose. Free food and drink. Only a fool would pass that up.”
The answer reminded Lukien why he disliked his lieutenant so much. Inwardly he cursed Akeela for leaving Trager behind with him. He was a jealous, petty man, and had been since their war college days. He held grudges longer than anyone Lukien had ever known, too, and had never really forgiven Lukien the good fortune of being King Balak’s favorite. Though they had graduated together, posting almost identical grades, Lukien had become Captain of the Chargers. Some, like Trager, thought it was because of his closeness to the king. To be honest, Lukien suspected there was some truth in that theory. But it was also because he was the best soldier the college had ever produced, and because he had proven himself in battle many times. But Trager never considered that.
“It’s very nice here, don’t you think, Captain?” Trager continued to sip his wine as he studied the area, swaying to the strains of the music.
“Yes, it is,” Lukien conceded. He began picking at the food on his plate, nibbling at the meat of a pheasant joint.
“I’m grateful to be out of Hes,” said Trager. “The castle air was getting stale.” He took a deep breath. “This is how a man should live. You can smell the sea here.”
“Very nice.”
“It will be good to get back home to Liiria, though. I miss it.”
Lukien nodded. Trager’s voice was tiresome.
“I suppose King Akeela’s wedding will be quite an occasion,” the lieutenant went on. “He seemed excited about it. You’ll be there, of course, his steadfast man.”
“I suppose.”
“And it will be tournament season. He’ll have it at the same time, I suppose, to celebrate the occasion.” Trager looked at him. “Some jousting perhaps?”
“Oh, I’m sure,” said Lukien. He returned his lieutenant’s sharp smile.
“I’ve been practicing, Captain.”
“Really? Good for you.”
“In the apple orchard near Lionkeep. Before we left for Hes, I was practicing most every morning. The spring tournament should be enjoyable this year.”
Lukien laughed. “I will beat you, just as I do every year. And this time everyone at Akeela’s wedding will be on hand to watch you kiss the mud. You’re right—that will be fun.”
“Big words,” said Trager. “I have the feeling that all this bodyguard duty will make you soft.” He tapped the rim of his goblet, making it ring. “This just might be the year the Bronze Knight shows his glass jaw.”
“We shall see,” said Lukien. “Just keep practicing, and maybe you’ll have a chance against the squires.”
Trager’s eyes began to smolder. “I came here in friendship, Captain.”
Lukien yawned. Friendship was a subject Trager knew nothing about. “Yes. Well then, thanks for the food.”
But Trager didn’t leave. He merely leaned back again, staring at Cassandra across the pond. A low whistle crossed his bearded lips.
“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” he asked. “Akeela’s going to be a lucky dog when we get back home.”
Lukien said nothing.
Trager leaned in closer. “I wouldn’t mind taking her to my bed, I’ll tell you that.”
“Lieutenant,” began Lukien coldly, “you’ve had too much to drink. She’s to be the king’s wife, remember.”
Trager grinned. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed her, Captain. I’ve seen you looking at her. You’re like a bitch in heat when she passes by.”
“That’s enough,” Lukien snapped. He snatched the wine bottle from Trager’s hand. “Go dry out, Lieutenant, and I’ll try to forget that insult.”
For a moment, Trager didn’t move. His eyes kept a challenging watch on Lukien. Then he smiled again and rose from the grass, letting the goblet drop from his hand. It shattered when it hit the ground.
“You know, Captain, you’re a very arrogant man,” said Trager, then turned and walked off.
Lukien watched him go, his heart racing. He suddenly felt sick. Had his attraction to Cassandra been so obvious? He hadn’t thought so, but now he wasn’t sure. He gazed across the pond again to where the princess was painting. The music of the lutes surrounded him. She was very beautiful, and he simply couldn’t look away.
On the other side of the pond, Cassandra played with her paint pots, pretending to ignore the strange knight across the water. It was a perfect day and her holiday from Castle Hes had been delightful, yet still she was restless, unable to get Lukien out of her mind. She glanced past her easel, moving only her eyes. He was alone again. The sharp-tongued one, Trager, had left him. Now he was sipping a glass of wine. He looked pensive, as if he was staring at nothing in particular. But Cassandra knew better. The Bronze Knight had been watching her since they’d met, rarely taking his eyes off her. In every sense of the word he had become her bodyguard, and to her dismay she liked the way he coveted her. Her stomach fluttering, she returned to her painting, using a dull yellow to complete his uniform. He wasn’t in his armor today but she liked him best that way, and since no one but Jancis had come across the bridge to disturb her, she had painted what she desired, without fear of being discovered. With a thin brush, just a few horse hairs thick, she detailed his brilliant, bronze armor. The sun shone on his golden hair. To Cassandra, he was strikingly handsome.
“He’s looking at me again,” she whispered. A few yards away, Jancis sat on a blanket, knitting absently. Her friend’s observation made her raise her head. “No, don’t stare,” snapped Cassandra. She kept her eyes on her painting. “Trust me, that’s all. He’s been looking at me all afternoon.”
Jancis, who was appalled by Cassandra’s painting of the knight, made a disgusted sound.
“If anyone sees what you’re doing . . .”
“No one will see,” Cassandra chuckled. “It’s private here. That’s why I wanted to come. At least I don’t have my sisters looking under my bed.”
“But the earl, Cassandra. This is his home.”
“So? He doesn’t care what I get up to just as long as I’m happy, the old dear.” The princess smiled at her painting. It was very good considering her amateurish skill, and she was proud of the way she had captured his expression. Earnest, with just a touch of danger.
“You should be painting your new husband,” Jancis chastised. She lowered her knitting angrily. “And just what will you do with it when it’s done? Give it to Lukien?”
“Don’t be silly.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. Stop fretting now, I’m trying to work.”
Cassandra stole another glance across the water. Lukien had looked away again, which deflated her. She frowned. Another of his men came to join him, not Trager this time but the one called Benn. He sat down next to Lukien and the two began talking.
“He’s not at all what I expected,” said Cassandra finally.
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