The Still (36 page)

I turned to Hester. “I’m so tired, and hungry enough to ...” I took a tentative step her way, stopped when she made no response. “Please. I guess I’ve made rather a mess of things.” I sat, or perhaps my legs gave way. “I’m confused. Nothing goes as it should, or as I intend.” I wiped my cheek, found my hand damp.

Rustin climbed down from the cart. Hester and Elryc drifted closer.

“I’ll renounce, for Elryc. I’m too clumsy to be King, and too cruel. I just want to be a man.” My throat hurt, as if Danar had hold of my tongue. “But, you see, I don’t ... seem ... to know how.”

Rust knelt at my side.

“I thought I did, but ... nothing works.” My voice caught, and with an effort I brought it under control. “I say stupid things I don’t mean, or perhaps I mean them, I don’t know; I’m spiteful and nasty and—”

Out tumbled thoughts I hadn’t known I felt, drawn by Rustin’s somber gaze. “If I’m left alone I’ll die, or kill myself to put an end to it. I’m lonely and tired. And scared; the fear eats at me and I—”

Rust’s hand fell on my locks, in a gentle caress.

Reluctantly, as if denying I yearned for the peace he offered, I let my forehead rest on his shoulder. “Please, Rust, teach me to be a man.”

He gathered me into his arms, rocked.

“Please.” My arms crept round him, and I began to sob.

“Please.”

The shadows lengthened. I sniffled, wiped my nose. In silence, Hester limped to the cart, conjured a loaf of bread from some hidden recess, proffered it.

I tore off a huge chunk, stuffed it in my mouth, chewed only long enough to swallow, broke off another. Pieces and crumbs fell from my lips. I was aware of Rust’s bemused expression, but was too famished to care. Only when I was too dry to swallow did I slow my ravening.

Genard handed me water; I drank until the vessel was drained. With a sigh, I laid my head again on Rust’s shoulder. “Thank you.” I studied Hester’s face. “May I stay?”

Her eyes shut briefly, as if in pain. “Not as before.”

“Rust, I’m sorry I called you traitor. I won’t ever—”

His voice was gentle. “Did you mean it, about teaching you to be a man?”

Less famished now, my weakness abating, I faltered. Could I not manage on my own, if I were more careful, more ...

The sadness in his eyes pierced my very essence. With a deep breath, I plunged into unfathomed waters. “Yes, I meant it.”

“You’d put yourself in my charge, for that purpose?”

Resolutely, I cast aside my doubts. “I swear it by the True, Rust.”

“Then, make your peace with the others.”

I turned to the old woman. “Hester, I’m sorry if I was out of sorts before you left.”

Rust shook me gently. “You’ve been awful, Roddy. That isn’t enough.”

“I don’t owe her—oh, all right. I apologize, Hester.” I glanced at Rustin for a sign of approval. Instead he got to his feet, took my hand, led me away from the camp. When we reached a grove of beeches, far from the others, he said, “It won’t do.”

“I did what you—”

“I won’t play games, my prince. Do as I say, or I’ll turn from you and never look back.”

A chill stabbed at my spine. I nodded meekly, trudged back to the glade.

Elryc regarded me solemnly, from a perch atop the wagon. Fostrow sat at the fire, eyes elsewhere.

“Nurse Hester ...” My tone was hesitant. “What has gone wrong, between us?”

“What has not?”

“Tell me.”

“You lazed about the cottage, while the others broke their backs to—”

“It was wrong.” I swallowed. An apology showed weakness, yet, oddly, I felt none the worse for it. “I’ve been wrong about many things.”

“Easy to say it, now you’re starving. What of tomorrow, when your odious character asserts itself?”

My brow wrinkled. “What did I—”

“Oaf! Lout!” She skewered me with a glare. “Such a fine little boy you were. A bouquet of daisies in your chubby hands, for Nursie, oh, yes. But as you grew lanky you jeered, mocked, imitated me behind my back, thinking I was too stupid to see your reflection or your shadow.”

“Dame Hester, I—”

“Aping my ways, mimicking my tone to your sniggering cousins, in that terrible shrill voice that was an echo of my own! It’s an old throat I have, and sore! Do you think I’ve aged so by choice?”

“Nurse ...”

“Yes, my knees are old and my back crooked. It got so from lifting small royal boys and soothing their hurts, dampening my blouse with their tears! Even my walk you mocked. Think you I didn’t peer through my lady’s window to watch you staggering across the garden, bent to one side, while Bayard and his ilk reeled with glee?”

Appalled, I motioned to Genard, to Elryc. “Please, leave us.” They stood, wandered out of earshot. “Boys are cruel, I know, but—”

She cried, “I never deserved your hate!”

In lieu of answer, I reached to a tangled and overgrown bush, tugged on a shoot, lopped it off with my blade. I yanked off the leaves. “Over the years you’ve switched me many a time. Is there need again?” I thrust the stick into her hands. “Be my nurse once more, and take my woes from me.”

For a moment her visage remained stern, then she wavered. “Oh, Roddy.” She let fall the switch.

“It wasn’t just boys’ cruelty. As I grew, I hated you for doing what Mother would not: You raised me, Dame Hester, and gave me love and caring that I craved from her. Perhaps she was too busy with matters of state; I’ll never know.”

“She loved you.” Hester limped slowly to the cart, eased herself onto the backboard. “But it was to me she admitted it. ’Twas Elryc got the embraces, the ruffling of the hair, the daily reminders of her concern. I urged her to show you more affection, but she found it trying.”

I came near. “In Mother’s memory, have pity, if naught else. I’ll give Caledon to Elryc; I want no more of—”

“Don’t be a fool.” Her tone was gruff.

“Anyway, no one would have me King. If I’m crowned, they’ll kill me, or set me off the throne.” I pondered. “I don’t understand why I’m so unliked, but I recognize it’s so.”

“That’s a start.”

“Hester, after my insults and my gibes I can’t ask that you love me, but—” I extended my hand.

She slapped away my fingers. “Of course I’m enraged with you—who would not be?” A long pause. At last, the set of her face softened. “But I’ve always loved you, from the time I dandled you on the knee that jounced baby Elena, in her time.” Her voice quavered. “A daughter she was to me, so long past. But I’ve had no sons, Rodrigo of Caledon, save you and your brothers.”

I looked up, hoping beyond hope. She nodded, and I fell at her knees. She seized my face in her lap, swaying and crooning, patting my neck with cold wrinkled fingers. “There, there, Roddy. It will be well.” She hummed fragments of the tune she’d used to put me to sleep.

After a moment I glanced upward. My voice came shy. “I was helpless, when you rode from the cottage.”

“I know.”

“Why did you leave, then?”

“In hope that you’d follow.” Her old eyes met mine. “Else all was lost.”

“All?”

“Your chance to grow to a decent man. The crown, that my lady wanted—wants you to have. So.” She cleared her throat. “We’ll have no more talk of renunciation.”

I sighed. “I doubt I’m fit—”

“But you will be.” The ghost of a smile. “Rustin will see to it, if not I.” She gestured. “And he awaits.” It was a dismissal.

Shyly, I went to Rust.

He turned my shoulders, pointed me to Elryc. “He’s next.”

Sighing, I approached my brother, making the bow of courtesy, that any man might give another, regardless of rank. “If I’ve wronged you, brother, I’m sorry.”

He looked away. “You’ve been yourself. Is that a wrong?”

“Apparently.” I considered. “I swore to protect you, and let you ride off without—”

“I had them to defend me.” His eyes were solemn, and a touch hard. “If you would redeem a promise, choose the more important.”

“Which is?”

“The one you made when I was ill.”

My tone was puzzled. “At the inn? All I said was ... Oh!” I shifted from foot to foot. “Elryc, I’m sorry.”

My young brother clenched my shirt in his chubby fists. “Don’t offer a ‘sorry’! Keep what promises you made!”

I thrust down my ire. He had cause to upbraid me, for a vow cast aside. I made the short bow of contrition. “Elryc, if I reign, you’ll rule beside me at my right hand as the Duke of Stryx. Though I have to admit that at the moment it seems unlikely.”

His eyes softened.

“And I’ll rely on your wisdom, where mine fails.” I dropped my hands, said simply, “Forgive me, brother.”

“Oh, Roddy.” He banged his head against my shoulder, as if annoyed, but his cheeks were damp. Then, a quick pat, and he was gone.

Satisfied, I returned to Rustin.

“Now the others.” He flicked a thumb at Genard and Fostrow.

“Is this to humiliate me?” My voice held no protest; I was merely curious.

“No, Roddy. You’ve done them ill.”

“What of it? They’re servants!”

“Call Genard here, and repeat that.”

“I see what you mean; he’d be miffed to hear it, but—”

“At once!” Rust’s voice was hard.

I thought to rebel, quashed the impulse. My vow had been given, and I’d been inconstant enough. With a sigh, I did as he bade.

Genard but shrugged. “Is there anything else, m’lord?” He addressed Rustin rather than me.

“What would you say to Prince Rodrigo?”

“I won’t rebuke my betters.” His tone was sullen.

“You have our leave.” Rustin eyed him coolly. “Go on, get it said.”

“You hit me the last time I—all right.” The boy glowered. “I’m just a servant, to him. Stableboy or prince’s liegeman, it’s all the same from his vantage. I’m as the straw in Ebon’s stall: I’m there, but of no concern.”

I nodded agreement. “Don’t take it personally. Highborn can’t worry themselves about the gripes of mere churls. What matter, if—”

His eyes flashed. “Why not?”

“Oh, Genard.” I tried to control my exasperation. “You don’t understand. We can’t be bothered. In the great scheme of things, your kind doesn’t count!”

His jaw quivered with suppressed emotion as he planted himself before me, hands on hips. “Why not?”

“Because—Rust, this is ridiculous—you just don’t, Genard. You’re peasants, churls. You’re nothing.”

He bared his teeth, stabbed a finger into my chest. “I am not nothing!” Amazed, I fell back. “I signify, to Lord of Nature, if not you!”

“Genard!”

“M’lord, was a time I worshiped the ground you trod. ’Fore I knew you, that is. You have a noble face, and walked so proud. Would I never learned what you were!”

“Can I help the way of things? Is it my fault you’re of no consequ—”

“What if Genard’s right?” From behind me, a quiet voice.

“Eh, Rust?” My brows knitted. “Where do you get such ideas? Should we beg their consent to govern, as well? What then the rights of kings?” I shook my head. “No, be sure that—”

Rust crossed to Genard, set his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “He is not a ‘nothing.’ A true and loyal servant, and a boy of courage. So you’ll apologize to him.”

“To a churl? That’s altogether uncalled for.”

“Roddy.” His voice was low, and I sensed menace.

My own fault; I’d let myself in for it, by my promise. I sighed. “Genard, I apologize for calling you nothing.”

“And for treating him like dirt, these last weeks.”

“And for treating you like dirt.” My cheeks flamed.

“And you’ll try to do better.”

I scuffled the sod. “I’ll try to do better. Enough, Rust.”

“Leave us, Genard.” The boy scurried off. “You will think on this conversation tonight, Roddy. Agreed?”

“How could I not?” My tone was hot with anger. “You made me grovel—” I swallowed. Lord of Nature, it was hard, keeping an oath rashly made. “All right, Rust.”

“Good.” We walked back to the cart. “Get your bed ready near mine.” He fished in his belongings, tossed me a slab of soap. “You’ll bathe.”

“I’m really exhausted and—”

“Every day.”

“Rust, that’s—be reasonable!”

“Without fail. It’s best if you stay on the bank, and dip the soap. The stream’s quite cold.” He glanced at the moon.

“You’d best get started.”

“But—”

Without warning he charged, slammed me against the cart, knocking my breath from me. “Can you not keep a vow for so much as an hour? Are you so untrue as that? Why then did you set yourself in my care? Would you I went back to Stryx, and left you to your schemes and evasions?”

“No!”

His face blazed. “Then for once in your young foolish life, do as you’re told!”

“Yes, Rust!” I snatched up a flannel to use as a drying cloth, and fled.

After, I lay shivering under my blankets. “Is this a form of torture, until you’re revenged?” My tone was forlorn.

“Hmm?” Rustin came awake. “Of course not.”

Unseen in the dark, I grimaced. Freezing from my unwanted bath, flopping in Rust’s overlarge borrowed clothes, I’d been sent to make humble apologies to Fostrow and Chela. The soldier was gracious enough, clapped me on the shoulder with what he imagined an encouraging gesture. The girl, in obvious pain from her ribs, nodded and asked me to send Rust to her.

My humiliation this night was almost as great—not quite, but nearly—as that visited by Danar. Yet, for reasons I understood not, I felt little the worse for it. I even realized a dim sense of pride, that I’d endured a grim and unpleasant task, and kept my vow besides.

What was Rustin to me, that I’d so put myself in his hands? Was he not son of a traitor, to be despised by all? With callous disregard, he’d abandoned me. Why then did I bask in his approval, fret over his impatience?

Rust scrunched his blanket closer to mine, raised himself up. “Roddy, though this time is hard for you ...”

After a time I prompted, “Yes?”

“Know that I love your life more than mine.” He turned on his side.

Warmed by I know not what, I slept.

T
HE MORNING CAME COLD
and clear. I helped Hester stow her gear. “How far to Cumber, Nurse?”

“In the cart, two days.”

“How will the Earl receive us?”