The Lady's Man (18 page)

Father Rubrecht was right about the last. The rest could be argued, but there was absolutely no doubt that he had never wanted to hear the case. It wasn't just for the heart breaking details. It was also for shame. In the end the Order had failed Yorik. They should have captured Mayfall. They should have had him bound and brought before the justices within a day. Instead he had eluded them, laughing at them for weeks. And in the end Yorik had been driven to his actions by their failure. Regrettably there was no shortage of blame to go around. But that was no reason for Elron not to carry out his duty.

However there was one other reason to do as he asked and let Yorik travel with them. They were heading into a battle where they would be heavily outnumbered. Many of them would die. And he needed every sword he could get for that. Even if the foreteller was wrong, Yorik was a sword and a capable one. He had excelled in his studies. The risk he posed to them if he broke or ran in battle was small, and the help he might give them if he helped was greater. He could save some of their brothers.

And if this foreteller was right he could be important. Another dice to roll in a game in which he was uncertain of their chances.

“All right Father. I will delay his hearing until we have more time. As long as he shows himself capable of riding as our brother. But it is a delay only. His hearing must happen. The fact of his failure must be heard. Be sure that when you tell him of my decision that he hears that also. His failures cannot simply be forgotten nor overlooked.”

Decision made, at least for the moment, Elron was relieved. It was one problem pushed to the side for the moment, and he had so many others to deal with. But as the father thanked him and bid him a good night he was also troubled. Not by the decision, for it was the correct one. But by the thought that there was more to this than he understood. More to Yorik and more to this accursed battle they would have to fight.

Things were happening in the world. The dead were walking, having been raised by more dead. The Lady was intervening directly in the affairs of one broken paladin. Foretellers were saying he was important in some way. And the Order was riding off to war.

And none of it made any sense.

Chapter Twelve.

The following day found Yorik in his family's home, cleaning. Father Rubrecht had given him one day to see to his family's affairs and no more. There were no more days. In the morning the chapter would be beginning its long journey south and west to Briarton and then on to Stonebow beyond, and he would be travelling with them.

He was grateful for that. Grateful that he would be able to stand by his brothers with sword in hand and fight by their side. Perhaps by his actions he would be able to keep a few more of them alive. But that was for the morrow. Today there was still much he needed to do this day. Things of a personal nature.

First he'd visited his family's graves and said the customary prayers once more. He'd also visited the other members of the family and told them what he was doing. Now it was only a matter of preparing the family home for sale.

It was a simple home, quite modest by the standards of the second ring. It was only two stories tall, a mere three bed chambers upstairs while the downstairs was small and the stone walls were in need of some attention. But it was a proud home. A good one. It was a home he loved. It was also one he could never live in again. Paladins had no homes outside of the Order, and they had no coin of their own. And for the moment he was still a paladin. Until the trial that was.
But after the trial, whenever it might be, he would still not be able to use the home. In part it was simply too much a reminder of what had befallen his family. In part it was simply that when the trial was over and assuming that he was sent from the Order, he would not want to remain in Ender's Fall. He had determined to leave. To start anew somewhere else.

Cleaning a house was a difficult task. More difficult than Yorik had ever thought it could be. But it had to be done. The family home had to be sold, and the gold given to the rest of the family who needed it. His father's brother and sister and his mother's sister.

None of them unfortunately needed a home. If they had that would have solved all his problems at once, and he wouldn't have had to have performed this sad duty. He wouldn't have had to have waded through his family's memories. Or sold them. And that was the difficult part. Saying farewell to them.

There was the spinning wheel where his mother had sat day after day, making woollen thread for mending clothes. She had enjoyed her work, though he had never understood why. It was dull and repetitive and her hands were often red by the end of the day. But she had sung as she worked and never once complained. And now he had to sell it because neither he nor anyone else in his wider family could use it.

Then there was the wardrobe full of his sister's brightly coloured dresses, and of course her rag dolls. The dolls his mother had knitted and stuffed for her. She had loved those things, and he couldn't bring himself to sell them. So he would give them to the nearby orphanage in the hope that some other children could enjoy them.

Next there was his father's armour, still hanging on its stand. The armour he had worn every day of his life as he served the Lord Mayor as his man at arms. Yorik had determined to sell it as it was of no use to him since he was too tall and long of arm to wear it. In any case it wasn't what a paladin of the Order wore, and for the moment he was still one. But to sell his father's armour was almost like selling a piece of his father.

In the end it wasn't the work that was so hard. It was the memories.

“May I come in Sir Yorik?”

Yorik turned around in surprise and discovered Genivere standing at the front door, a wicker basket in her hand, and for a moment wondered why she was there. It wasn't time to return to the Order already was it? Of course he was also a little embarrassed to meet her like this. Wearing his rather rough city clothes while his armour sat in its stand in his quarters. And with a broom in his hand. It seemed at once both improper and unmanly.

“Of course Genivere.” He bowed his head as was proper in the company of a lady of learning and good station. “But please it is just Yorik. The Order does not abide titles, and in any case I am not here in the service of my Order.”

And soon he knew, he never would be again. For the moment the heads of the Order had deferred his trial – they had too much else to concern themselves with to worry about him. So he still held the position of a paladin, but he knew that it was only for a little while longer. Sooner or later they would do what was right and proper.

“No. Yours is a far more painful service so I am told.” She stared at him with concern showing in her big green eyes.

“Your brothers in arms worry for you as they prepare for the journey ahead. But they cannot be with you. Their duties prevent them. They did however, tell me of your pain and bid me to give you their thoughts.”

That much Yorik was sure of. There was not one of his brothers from the house that did not know of his loss, and all of them understood it. The Order of the Lady was never so hard as some on its people. They did not expect their paladins to sever ties with their families as did the Order of the Iron Hand. In fact they only took those as their members who were close to their families. That was part of the Lady's calling after all. And when he'd paced the halls of the chapter house before escaping to pursue his vengeance he had seen the sorrow and fear in their eyes as they considered his loss. The sorrow bordering on pity that he truly hated seeing. The fear no matter how unworthy, that something as terrible as what had happened to him could happen to them.

But there was one other look that he'd seen in them which he hated more than all the rest even as he understood it completely. Relief. Every one of them was grateful that it hadn’t been they who had suffered such a loss. It was an unworthy emotion, but it was human. In their place he would have known the same feeling.

“Thank you good maiden.”

Yorik had to acknowledge her kindness, even though he didn't really want to see her. Not just then. There were things a man simply had to do by himself. Times when he wanted no company save his own. But it would have been rude to have said anything.

“This was a good home? Much loved?”

“It was. My sister and I grew up here. Our parents lived here long before that. And there was always laughter and warmth.”

Which he supposed was why it seemed so empty. They were no longer here, neither in person or spirit. If they were anywhere they were in the Lord Mayor's private burial ground. His father had been Sir Heric, Man at Arms for the Lord Mayor after all, and he and his family had been buried there with honour. But when he had visited their graves, he had not felt them there either. He could not feel them anywhere and that was a terrible thing.

“Then it is best that it should go to another family. A home is more than a building, and my people believe that it carries something of those who once dwelt within in it always. Those who come here next will be blessed for their having lived here.”

Was she right Yorik wondered? He hoped so. It was a pleasant thought on a not so pleasant day. But he couldn't feel anything of them. Maybe that was simply because the wounds were still too fresh and too deep. Still, he thanked her for the words.

“They said that you hunted down the wizard who had done this terrible thing?”

The blood drained from Yorik's face the instant he heard the words. It drained from his whole body leaving him nearly faint. Why did she have to ask that question? To remind him of his shame and his failure? And yet the shame and the failure was already his. He could make his worth no less. Besides, she had been a good companion. She had kept his spirits aloft as they'd travelled together, and even brought him a little hope of a future with her smile. She had a right to know who it was that she'd travelled with.

“I did. It was easier to let the anger consume me than to face this.” He raised his arms to indicate the house. But it wasn't the house that he meant. It was the emptiness inside it. The all consuming emptiness.

“And now you are in trouble for it?”

“No Genivere. I am far beyond trouble.”

Yorik let a pained smile touch his face. For some reason he found unexpected humour in her words. In the way she was so delicately picking her way around the issue instead of asking the questions directly.

“When I gave in to my anger and began hunting down Mayfall, I threw aside my vows. I disgraced myself. And when I killed him I completed that journey of shame. The only reason I still wear the gold is that there has not yet been a chance for my trial to be held. But that day will soon be upon me and I will surrender my gold and my crest. I only hope that when it is finished I will be permitted to remain within the Order, perhaps as a trainer.” It was strange how easily the words flowed from his mouth. But in the end they were only the truth.

“But there was no doubt that this wizard did these terrible things?”

She didn't understand but then there was no reason she should. Genivere was not of the Order. She had not known the joy of the Lady as she moved through her, nor understood the truth of her words.

“No.” Yorik shook his head. “Mayfall actually boasted of his crimes, as if daring me to come after him. There was never any doubt. But that's not at issue. The Order of the Lady stands for life and love above all. We do not give ourselves over to hatred and anger. We do not kill without need. I should have let my brothers find him and bring him before the courts. Or failing that I should have brought Mayfall back to face justice. I should not have killed him out of vengeance as I did.”

And killed him terribly as he had – though Genivere did not have to hear that. The Order would hear those shameful details when it was time, not before.

“He was a bad man who did terrible things to you and yours.”

Genivere still didn't understand his calling, and she thought she was helping him. Trying to justify what he had done when there could be no justification.

“He was and he hurt a great many people. But my actions cannot be judged on his. I betrayed my word. I failed my Lady. When you walk upon a bridge over a ravine it must hold. It does not matter that there are too many upon it pressing down, that it is old and weathered, that it is lashed by storms. It must hold. There can be no excuses.”

And that was what a paladin was. The unwavering support that held the faith safe and protected it. For a paladin there were no excuses. There was no hesitation or doubt. There could be no retreat and no surrender. And there was also no failure. It did not matter that the enemy was far stronger or more numerous. That there was no chance of victory. A paladin cared for none of those things. When the faith needed steel to defend it a paladin was there regardless, and he fought to the end. But more than that, strengthened by his faith and guided by his vows the paladin almost always won. And if he lost, if the enemy triumphed, it could only mean that the paladin had given his life.

Yorik though had failed to uphold his vows. Though the Lady might have forgiven him, his Order would not forget his failure or ignore it. Nor should they. Because not only had he shown himself to be fickle, unable to stay the course when times became difficult, he had proven that he could not be relied upon.

“That's ...” Genivere struggled for a bit as she searched to find the right word – before she gave up.

“That's a paladin.”

Yorik knew what it was to be a paladin after all. He knew the unreasonable demands that were made of those of the calling. The impossible that was often expected of them. And he knew that most people would rather run a thousand leagues than try to shoulder such a burden. But that was who he was and who he had always wanted to be. It was also who he had failed to be.

“You humans.” She shook her head slowly as if saddened by his words. “Sometimes I wonder if you truly know what it is to be a part of the world. The Mother would never ask nor expect such a thing of any of her children.”

Her words brought a smile to Yorik's face. The first true smile of that day. It was somehow good to hear her criticism. The same criticism he had heard so many times before from his friends as he had begun his training in the Order. They didn't understand either.

“The Lady neither asks for nor expects it either. Our service is a gift to her. Gratitude for the wisdom she brought us. For the care she bestowed upon us. But it is good to hear words of faith spoken once more in this house.”