The Marus Manuscripts (3 page)

“Mary was the one for Darien, and you know it.”

“I needed Mary to wed the prince of Albany. It was good politics and good for our nation’s security. With Albany as an ally, we’ll be much safer in the Northern Territories.”

“It was unconscionable to promise Mary to Darien, then give her to Albany,” Prince George persisted.

The king shrugged. “You’ll learn one day that the king must make many hard decisions for the sake of his people.”

“It’s interesting to me that you make these ‘hard decisions,’ and they all seem designed to hurt Darien.”

The king smiled wryly. “Is Darien not man enough to handle it?”

“Darien is a great man!” Prince George exclaimed sharply. “And he will be loyal to you no matter what you do to him.”

“We’ll see about that,” the king replied.

Prince George faced his father and said softly, “You continually wrong a man who has done you no harm. There are others in your army who need closer watching.”

“Like whom?”

Just then the phone on the desk rang, the bell loud and shrill. Prince George picked up the receiver. “Yes?” He paused, listened, then frowned. “Send him in.”

A few seconds later, a uniformed man with short-cropped hair, handlebar mustache, and a scar on his cheek entered. “Sire,” he said with a quick bow.

“General Liddell,” the king said. “What news do you bring?”

“I’ve received word from the Palatian border that General Darien has successfully returned from his mission and is on his way home to the capital by train. He’ll arrive here tomorrow.”

The king’s face turned red. “What?” he roared.

“That
is
good news!” Prince George said with an eye to his father. “Did he capture the 100 medals?”

“I don’t know,” General Liddell said as he moved toward the closet. Anna shrank back, afraid he would see her through the crack.

“I’m sure he did!” Prince George clapped his hands happily. “If you’ll excuse me, Father, I’d like to make arrangements for a feast to celebrate Darien’s return.”

The king waved a dismissive hand at him. Prince George strode out, laughing as he went.

The king slammed his fist on the desk again furiously. “What will it take to get rid of this man?” he asked.

“What would you like me to do, my king?” General Liddell asked.

The two men gazed at each other for a moment. “There are things we can discuss,” the king said.

General Liddell smiled. “I’m sure there are. You need only say the word.”

King Lawrence gestured to his general. “Let’s walk in the garden for a while.”

The two men left.

Anna waited a moment and tried to sort out everything that had happened. It was more than she could cope with. Where was she? Who were these people? How did she get from an abandoned house in the middle of the woods to this fancy room?

It was a dream, she decided. And the best way back to the real
world was to get out of this closet—and out of this house. She gently pushed the door open, peeked around to be sure she was alone, and tiptoed across the room. The décor was more awesome than she could see from the closet. There were busts on marble pedestals in every corner, large sofas and chairs with upholstery of intricate tapestry, glass-covered bookcases, and an enormous fireplace. An ornate clock chimed in the corner. She gaped at the room, wishing she had time to look it over more thoroughly. She opened the door slowly and stuck her head into the hall. Suddenly, large hands grabbed her roughly.

“Just as I suspected,” General Liddell growled from behind her. “A spy.”

The king, who stood nearby, clucked his tongue. “However did you see her in the closet, General?” he said. “You’re amazing.”

“I’m not a spy!” Anna protested.

“Notice how oddly she’s dressed,” the king said, “as if she wishes to be disguised as a boy!”

Anna glanced down self-consciously at her blouse with the torn sleeve and her smudged pants. “I’m not disguised as a boy,” she insisted. “These are
my
clothes.” She added with a heartfelt plea, “You have to help me! I’m
lost.
”

“Lost in the king’s palace?” the general asked suspiciously. “How is that possible?”

In a torrent of words, Anna told the general and the king about the old house and the bright white light. They laughed at her.

“Normally we put spies to death,” General Liddell said.

Anna began to cry. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t know how I got here!”

The king looked over Anna carefully, then told General Liddell, “Give her to Titus. He’ll know what to do with her.”

General Liddell pulled Anna through the palace, up and down several flights of stairs, and down a long, dark hallway until they were in a quiet, nearly deserted section. He opened a large, wooden door that led into a little-used courtyard. Across the dirty pavement, past a dry, cracked fountain, sat a broken-down shack. “Titus!” the general shouted.

Titus was as round as he was tall. His torn trousers and stained shirt could barely contain his enormous form. His jowls flapped when he spoke, and his bald head glimmered with sweat no matter what the temperature around him. When he smiled, which he only ever did cruelly, one noticed that half his teeth were missing. Anna’s first impression was that he was the kind of man you would expect to sell little kids into slavery. Her impression was right. That’s exactly what he did.

Titus bowed as low as his bulky frame would let him. “My general,” he said.

“We found this trespasser in the king’s study. Sell her as a slave,” General Liddell ordered as he pushed Anna to the ground.

“Very good, sir. The dealers meet in the morning.”

“Don’t explain,” General Liddell said. “Just see to it.” He turned and left the same way he had come.

“Hello, little girl,” Titus leered, then poked a finger at her pants. “Or are you a girl? You dress like a boy.”

“It’s a mistake!” Anna cried out.

Titus dragged Anna from the courtyard and down into a damp cellar that could be best described as a dungeon. The door even had bars on the window. He took her to a corner littered with moldy straw.

“You won’t make me stay in here!” Anna cried. “Please don’t make me stay in here!”

Titus laughed. Using rope, he tied her to an iron ring attached
to the wall. “Night night,” he said and marched out, slamming the large door behind him. He peeked through the barred window. “I wouldn’t sleep much if I were you. The rats like to nibble.”

Anna screamed.

K
yle was on a steam train, the kind with an enormous chimney on top of the front engine. It puffed, whooshed, and whistled its way through the dark countryside. Kyle had followed the general—Darien was his name—onto the train, where the general told his entire regiment how Kyle had warned him about the fire poker and saved his life. The men gave Kyle extra-special consideration after that, offering him a hot meal and a comfortable berth in which to sleep. But sleep was the last thing Kyle wanted. He had dozens of questions about where he was and how he got there and who these people were. General Darien smiled at the boy and said they would talk after a good night’s rest. Kyle was sure he’d never rest—until his head hit the pillow. He slept until dawn.

Kyle was awake before anyone else. He climbed down from the berth and discovered his clothes, washed and dried, hanging on a hook nearby. He put them on, then walked softly down the passageway. It stretched the length of the train car, with sleeping berths stacked up on both sides. He could hear some of the soldiers snoring behind the curtains that gave the small compartments their privacy.

A sentry stood guard at the end of the car. He eyed Kyle carefully, remembered who the boy was, and said that he could get breakfast in the dining car, two cars ahead. Kyle thanked him and stepped through the door into the chilly morning air. He lingered there only a minute—just long enough to be impressed with the
beautiful green countryside they rolled past. The train jolted, and Kyle decided he should get into the next car. Unlike the previous car, with berths stacked up along the passageway, this one had room-sized compartments with doors. Apart from the rattle and hum of the train itself, everything was quiet.

Kyle went through to the next car, where tables were set up for dining, just as the sentry had said. A man in a white jacket smiled at Kyle and gestured to a window seat at one of the tables. Kyle sat down. Before he could say anything at all, the man had placed a glass of orange juice and a glass of milk in front of him.

“Compliments of the general,” the man said. “He told me to give you the full treatment.”

Kyle liked being treated like a hero.

Light poured in through the window. Kyle craned his neck to see if this world had more than one sun. He found himself squinting at just one, which was rising on the horizon. But the fields and trees that lay in front of it seemed somehow brighter, more vibrant, and greener than anything he’d seen in his world. He leaned back in the chair and wondered if it was a trick of the light or perhaps only his imagination.

The train whistle sounded as they passed through a station. Kyle looked out the window in time to see dozens of people on the platform. Some waved and shouted enthusiastically. Others held signs saying things like “Hooray General Darien!” and “General Darien, our hero.”

“Wow,” Kyle said to himself.

“They love him, you know,” a man said to Kyle. Startled, Kyle looked over to the end of the table. The man standing there was dressed in a double-breasted gray uniform with medals on his chest. He had a wrinkled brow that made him look stern, though his face was young. He had wavy red hair and wore a goatee. The man pulled
out a chair and sat down across the table from Kyle. “May I?” he asked after he’d already sat down. “I’m Colonel Oliver.”

“I’m Kyle.”

“Oh, I know who you are,” Colonel Oliver said softly. “You’re the boy who saved our general’s life. And for that, we’re eternally grateful. But I’d like to know who you really are and what you’re up to.”

The words came so fast and the tone stayed so pleasant that, for a moment, Kyle didn’t catch on to what the colonel was saying. “Up to?” he asked.

“Don’t toy with me, young man. How did you wind up in that room when the general was there?”

Kyle shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“You can do better than that.”

“No, I’m serious—I don’t know,” Kyle said defensively. “One minute I was in an empty house, falling through the floorboards, and the next minute I was in that room. I don’t know how it happened. See, I was visiting my grandparents, and my sister and I—”

Colonel Oliver held up a hand and said, “Spare me the details.”

“I just wanted to explain that—”

“I knew you wouldn’t answer directly.” Colonel Oliver leaned forward on the table. “Be sure, boy, that I’ll be keeping my eye on you. If you’re really working for the Palatians, I’ll find out about it. Even if you’re not, I’m going to find out who and what you are.”

A jovial voice called out from the doorway, “What he is? I’ll tell you what he is, my dear colonel. He’s my guardian angel!”

Colonel Oliver leaped to his feet and saluted.

General Darien stepped into the car and strode briskly to the table. He patted Kyle on the back. “Don’t mind Colonel Oliver,” he said kindly. “He’s paid to be suspicious. It’s what often keeps us all alive.” Then, turning to the colonel, he said, “Thank you, Ollie.”

Colonel Oliver understood the cue that he was expected to leave. He saluted again and, with one last glaring look at Kyle, walked over to a table at the opposite end of the car.

“Mind if I sit down?” General Darien asked.

“Yes . . . I mean, no. I mean, please sit down,” Kyle said.

The general did and signaled to the waiter for a cup of coffee. “I only have a minute,” he said. “Did you sleep well? Are you rested?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“Good,” the general said and fiddled with the buttons on his uniform. Like Colonel Oliver’s, it was gray and heavily decorated with medals. “Sorry, but I can’t stand to wear this thing. Uniforms give me a rash. Give me regular shirts and trousers any day.” He smiled, and it almost seemed to Kyle that his teeth and eyes sparkled when he did. Kyle decided the general couldn’t be much older than 25. He was like the older brother Kyle always wished he’d had—or would one day be.

The coffee arrived. General Darien dropped a splash of cream into it, then gazed at Kyle for a moment. “You don’t look like a Palatian,” he said. “And I wouldn’t guess that you’re from Marus, either.”

“Marus? Where is Marus?” Kyle asked.

The general looked surprised. “You’ve never heard of Marus?”

“No, sir. Where is it?”

“You’re riding through it, lad.” The general chuckled. “Perhaps I should be quiet and allow you to tell me from where you’ve come. I’m curious—not suspicious, mind you, but curious.”

Kyle drank his milk and ate a bowl of oatmeal and some toast with jam, all in the time it took to tell General Darien his story. The general asked one or two questions but didn’t say anything otherwise. When Kyle finished, the general leaned back in his chair. “That’s a remarkable story,” he said.

“It’s true!” Kyle said. He had no doubt that his story sounded crazy. It sounded crazy even to him.

The general rubbed his chin and told Kyle, “I’ve never heard of any of the places you say you’re from. Explaining how you got here is probably impossible. I’d suggest it’s all a dream, but you’re real enough and so am I, so that knocks
that
out of our consideration.” He thought for a moment. “When we have the chance, I’ll take you to the Old Judge. He’s wise about such things. Maybe he can explain it.”

“I hope so,” Kyle said. “I’m worried about my sister. She might get lost if she tries to find her way back to my grandparents. Oh—my grandparents! They’ll be worried, too.”

“Don’t worry about it, Kyle. We’re all in the hands of the Unseen One.” Kyle wanted to ask who the Unseen One was, but the general stood up. “Meanwhile, you’re my personal guest. It’s the least I can do for the service you did for me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to meet with my officers. A boring business meeting.” He winked and smiled as he left.

Later in the morning, Kyle came upon a group of boys in another car who were polishing boots, cleaning pistols, and shining swords. They were cadets whose sole purpose at this stage of their life was to make sure the officers were catered to. Kyle was pleased to meet up with boys his own age. The adults were polite enough, but none of them besides the general had gone out of his way to speak to him.

The boys were extremely curious about Kyle and weren’t shy about asking him more questions than he had answers for. Once again, he told his story about how he wound up in the Palatian general’s mansion. They were silent as they listened and went about their work. Kyle couldn’t tell if they believed him or not.

One of the boys finally said, “That’s quite a story. I
hope
it’s true. Otherwise you’re one of the best liars I ever met.”

Kyle protested that he wasn’t a liar, but he knew it wouldn’t make any difference. Why should anyone believe him?

“Since you’ve been asking me a lot of questions, do you mind if I ask you a few?” he said.

The boys said they didn’t mind.

“For starters, where are we going?”

A fair-haired boy replied, “We’re going to our capital. It’s called Sarum. General Darien is taking back his ‘prizes’”—at this the rest of the boys giggled—“from the Palatians. They’re our enemies, by the way. And then the king will let General Darien marry his daughter.”

“I don’t understand,” Kyle said. “General Darien went into enemy territory to bring back prizes so he could marry the king’s daughter? If he’s a general, why didn’t the king just say yes?”

The fair-haired boy smiled indulgently and answered, “You honestly don’t know
anything
about Marus, do you?”

“I really don’t.”

“Well,” the boy began, “General Darien wasn’t always a general. In fact, he wasn’t even raised to be a soldier. A couple of years ago, he was just a farm boy out in one of the crop-growing counties. But after he killed Commander Soren—”

“Commander Soren?”

“He was Palatia’s greatest leader,” another boy interjected.

The fair-haired one continued. “Commander Soren and the Palatian army invaded—”

“As
usual,”
the second boy said with mock boredom.

The fair-haired one shot him an impatient look. “Anyway, they had our army cornered near Glendale. That’s a town in the southwest part of the country, near the mines. We rode past it in the middle of the night.”

“He doesn’t want a geography lesson,” one of the other boys said, then spat on a boot to polish it.

The fair-haired boy went on. “The story goes that Darien and his brothers had decided to enlist in the army to battle the Pala
tians. They arrived at Glendale just when it looked as if King Lawrence was about to surrender to Soren.

“When Darien heard this, he was furious. He couldn’t believe that the people of Marus would ever surrender to the Palatians, under any condition. He made such a fuss about it that an officer grabbed him and dragged him in front of the king to get permission to put him to death for treason. Darien laughed at the idea. He said it was better to be put to death for treason than to become a slave to the Palatians.

“The king was amazed at Darien’s arrogance. Darien said that the king, of all people, should know that the Unseen One would protect them and give them victory. The king called him a fanatic and said that if he was so confident about the Unseen One, maybe he should go out and do something about the Palatians himself. Darien took the dare and said that he would.

“The whole army watched with their mouths hanging open as Darien headed straight across the battlefield. He didn’t have on a uniform, he didn’t take a pistol or a rifle—he didn’t have any protection at all.” The fair-haired boy stopped for a moment. By now, every boy in the car had put down his work and was listening.

“Commander Soren was told by his soldiers that a boy from Marus was walking across the field. Soren was angry. He expected King Lawrence to come himself to surrender. ‘He sent me a boy?’ Soren yelled. ‘Give me my rifle. I’ll send that boy back with a message—as a corpse.’ Soren took his rifle and headed across the field toward Darien.

“They got closer and closer to each other. Soren started to curse at Darien. Darien didn’t flinch. Then, still walking, Soren lifted up his rifle and took aim at Darien. Darien didn’t lose a step. He kept on going. Soren laughed and started to squeeze the trigger. Darien yelled, ‘To the glory of the Unseen One!’ and that made Soren angry.

“‘I won’t shoot this pup,’ Soren said and threw down his rifle.
He pulled his sword from its sheath. ‘I’ll send him back to King Lawrence in pieces!’ Meanwhile, Darien kept walking toward Soren, who raised his sword. When he was just a few feet from Soren, Darien pulled out a pocketknife—the one he whittles with. It’s a little thing; maybe he’ll show it to you sometime. Anyway, with a flick of his wrist, Darien threw that little knife at Soren. It hit him right in the heart. My father was there, and he saw the whole thing. It hit Soren in the heart, and he died right where he stood.

“Did Darien stop and turn back? No. Darien kept right on walking, went up to the commander’s dead body, grabbed his rifle, and started firing like a madman at the Palatians. Everyone was so shocked that they didn’t have time to think. The Palatians started to run, and King Lawrence, seeing the opportunity, yelled for his men to attack. They did, and they beat the Palatians back to the border.”