The Still (41 page)

“Stop!” Plea or command, it bore anguish I couldn’t have foretold.

Imbar. “He taunts you, to turn aside your resolve.”

“I know well what he does; also I know I ceded him the right. Rodrigo, forgive me. I honor Josip and wish that you do so. Call me Uncle if it pleases you.”

I said nothing.

“And it pleases me.” His tone was gruff. “Which is not to say that for Josip’s sake I’ll support your claim to the throne.”

“Of course not. You’ll do so for my sake, and Caledon.” I wasn’t ready to be mollified.

“You’ve more in you than I’d supposed. I’ll think on it.” He got slowly to his feet. “Come, let us dine. I’ll have answer tomorrow.”

It wasn’t a formal meal, with full ritual, but the Earl set forth far more than the light refreshments guests might receive who had no special favor. We sat at long tables draped with soft linen and joined end to end in the center of the great hall. Candelabras gleamed, their tapers flickering with promise of a prolonged feast. I noticed more plank tables stacked neatly against the far wall, enough to fill the length of the hall should the Earl mount a true banquet.

Elryc was accorded a place two seats below mine, which was at Uncle Raeth’s right hand. Rust sat across from me; Hester and Fostrow far below us. Genard I thought not even present, until I spotted him near the foot of the last table. Imbar was to Uncle’s left.

No one seemed to take notice of the Earl’s eccentricity. I tried to picture myself entertaining a visiting prince by seating him across from a servant. It was beyond my imagining.

They began with soup, and I tried hard not to slurp. To my right sat a comely young woman who would notice such things. Surreptitiously, I glanced at my fingernails, but thanks to Rust’s obstinacy on bathing they weren’t objectionable.

Great-uncle Cumber led us into small talk, steering us carefully from matters of state. Plied with wine, I felt myself begin to relax, and eventually to redden with the warmth of alcohol. Rust frowned, tapped pointedly on his water glass, and lest he make a scene, I diluted my drink until its color faded.

“Oh, I’m so glad; I’ll do that too.” The young woman followed suit with her own glass. “I feel such a child when I’m the only one to lighten my wine, and Uncle’s remarks can make me blush.”

The best I could think of was a polite smile, and I returned to my dish.

She added, “I met you once, in Stryx. I don’t suppose you remember.”

“Of course I do. You were ...” I gave her time to supply the prompt.

Her face dissolved in pleasure. “How nice, my lord. A pity it was such a sad occasion.”

“Yes.” I tried to look solemn. “I’m sorry I didn’t have more time to chat with you, but it was difficult.”

“How could it not be?”

“Mother was a great lady.”

“I remember how beautiful she was that day.”

I frowned. “The coffin was closed.”

“Oh.” She put a hand to her mouth. “I know I ought not contradict you, sir, but it was open. Surely you remember.”

“Perfectly.” My voice was firm. “It was closed, for the public grieving.”

“If you say so, my lord.” Her manner took on a reserve it hadn’t held.

I gulped my wine, attacked the broiled trout and scalloped potatoes they placed in front of me. The woman, whatever her name—someone had mumbled it but I couldn’t remember—devoted her attention to her dinner.

I blurted, “Rust, was Mother’s coffin open or closed for her funeral?”

“Closed, my prince.”

I couldn’t help myself. “You see?”

“I wouldn’t know, my lord. I wasn’t there.”

I rolled my eyes. “Try to keep your story straight, my dear.” Perhaps she was the castle fool, put at my side for Uncle’s amusement.

We’d been left long enough to ourselves. “Tresa, what think you of our prince?” The Earl. “Will you take offense, Lord Rodrigo, if she speaks her mind?”

“No, Uncle Raeth.” What else could I say?

“Must I?” Her tone was plaintive.

“But of course, when you sit at my table.”

“The young Prince is ... rude. He thinks I know not what I saw at the burial, and accuses me of lies.”

I threw down my napkin. “Madam, it was barely a month ago, and I have all my wits. When Mother died—”

“Who speaks of the Queen?”

I shouted, “You do!” Heads turned, and I lowered my voice. “You said you met me at her funeral!”

“You dunce, I said no such thing!” She scrambled from her chair, cheeks red. “Forgive me, Lord Prince, I meant no disresp—oh, Lord of Nature.” Eyes brimming, she scurried from the room.

Uncle Cumber sighed. “I’ll have to coddle her for days, to restore her spirits.” His tone mocked me. “Ah, boy, who can expect you to learn these skills, in your state?”

I gritted, “I’m sorry.” I covered my wineglass, before the steward could pour more. Perhaps I had ought to stick to water. “But why did she say she’d been to Mother’s burial, when clearly she hadn’t?”

Raeth, Earl of Cumber, smiled with gentle malice. “Not your mother’s burial, my lad. Your father’s.”

I reached for bread, knocked my glass into my lap. The remainder of the meal was lost in my indignity and self-recrimination.

Later, in the dark, Rustin curled alongside me like a spoon. “It wasn’t so bad, Roddy. It entertained him.”

“A fool of myself.” I’d repeated the phrase some dozen times.

“It’s all right. You’ve done it before.” If it was intended as consolation, it failed.

I whispered, “What now? Certainly he won’t support us after the fiasco I made.”

His hand covered my mouth. I thought to bite him, contained myself. Instead, to annoy him, I licked his palm.

Refusing to let me goad him, he wiped his hand on my bare shoulder. “This afternoon is what counted, Roddy. When you wore the crown, you were magnificent.”

“Hmpff.”

He spoke softly, in my ear. “Both outside the walls, and within. I was so proud of you.”

I lay listening, afraid to move.

“Often you’re such a spoiled child, I—” A sigh. “Roddy, it’s what you were today, whom I follow.”

After a time, I asked, “Really?”

“Yes, my prince.”

And I was comforted.

R
USTIN HELPED ME CHOOSE
the best of my clothing for the morn. It wouldn’t do to be seen wearing the same garments as to dinner, but all I had was a scorched jerkin, soiled breeks, and his hand-me-downs. Somehow we put together a wardrobe that didn’t leave me looking destitute.

He adjusted the ties on my jerkin, nodded with approval. “I’ll buy you some finery, when I see Chela this morning.”

“If you must.” I’d forgotten her.

“Jealous, my prince? Are we to become Lord Raeth and Imbar, then?”

I cried, “How could you say such a thing!”

Taken aback, he shrugged helplessly. “A poor jest. I forget that you ... sorry.” He straightened. “I’ll be back ere long.”

Unwilling to go down to the donjon by myself, I found Elryc, sitting with Hester. They’d brought the old woman hot bread, and boiled eggs with her tea, and she was content to eat in her room. My brother and I strode down the marble staircase.

Elryc made sure no one overheard. “Aren’t you afraid to go about, without Fostrow?” His voice was low.

“Think you I need a keeper?”

“Yes, but that wasn’t what I meant. What if Uncle Cumber plays us false, seizes us for Mar?”

“I don’t think he would.”

“Yesterday you said he had no honor.”

“He has something in its place, then.” I waved it aside. “You worry too much.”

“And you not enough.” At the foot of the stairs Elryc gave solemn greeting to the first functionary he saw, asked where we could find to eat.

The man clapped his hands. Two servants appeared. He sent one to the kitchen, the other to the Earl. From the kitchen, footmen hurried to carry a table and chairs to the sunny side of the hall, and to set goblets and plates.

While we sat abashed, passing comments in hushed tones, a cook in preposterous dress emerged with bearers. Their trays disgorged fruits, rolls, eggs, puddings, steaming oat mash, exquisite pastries, and juices squeezed from oranges, apples, and exotic fruits. Into our mugs they placed small chunks of ice, as if it were winter, and the juice poured over.

I filled my plate and partook of the feast, but had barely swallowed a few mouthfuls when Lord Cumber descended the stairs, in a colorful houserobe embroidered with gold thread.

“I rise late.” It might have been an accusation. He took the place across, and we resumed our seats.

“Forgive me, Uncle Raeth. At home I was accustomed to a simple meal, in the servants’ kitchen.”

“Eat plain food, if you wish, but never a plain meal.” He waved vaguely at the fine-blown glass, the candles, the linen. “All this is what separates us.”

“From whom, sir?” Elryc.

“The rabble. Imbar will be along in a while. No need to wait.”

The day I’d wait my meal on a servant’s pleasure was the day I’d ... I sighed. It was Uncle Raeth’s castle, to manage as he pleased.

“Is he a good brother?” The Earl, sharply, to Elryc.

“I—he—of course, sir.”

“No, youngsire, the truth. It’s a whimsy of mine; at table we speak of each other with candor.”

“Only at table?”

“Isn’t that enough? We spend the rest of the day repairing the damage. Is he a good brother?”

I leaned my head on my fist, curious as to how Elryc would placate both the Earl and myself.

“Lately he’s learned better, sir. Before, he was—sorry, Roddy. He can be a bit arrogant.”

“Is that all?”

“And a bully. He makes me cry, for the power of it. But he’s changed, since Mother died.”

“Is he clever?”

“Roddy, should I—” He eyed the valet, who was striding toward us.

“Ask me, youngsire; it’s
my
table. Sit, Imbar, and we’ll hear the truth about our young heir.”

Elryc fell to toying with his food, but Uncle Raeth waited in merciless silence.

“He’s, well ... clever enough to lead me across the castle grounds dressed as a stableboy, so no one noticed. He even had us sniggering and mocking him, as churlish boys would. But he thinks himself more clever still. I mean—he’s always had—I don’t know what I mean.” Elryc’s face grew red.

“Ah, Imbar, I fear we’ve disconcerted him. Is he an astute observer, young Rodrigo?”

All at once I tired of the game, and could think of but one way to end it. “Yes.”

“You’re not so clever, then?”

I played with my fork. “I’ve learned that I’m not. I—made mistakes.”

“And you’re a bully also?”

I raised my eyes. “At times.”

“By the imps’ laughter, Imbar. He raises candor to new heights.”

“And yourself, sir? Do you often bully your guests with these diversions?”

I’d gone too far, and knew it instantly. But the Earl, though his eyes flashed, was game. “Yes, youngsire. I do, for our amusement.” He examined a dainty iced pastry, popped it into his mouth. “Imbar and I need sources of amusement, now that life shortens.”

My tone was cool. “Would it amuse you to see me King?”

“That I don’t know as yet. Come, finish your fruit, and I’ll show you my garden.”

When I rose, he took my arm, walked with me through a wondrous pair of doors whose panels were made of glass, like a window. They opened onto a huge veranda filled with a thousand flowerboxes bursting with color. “Here you see my zinnia.” One by one, he introduced me to the nearby plants as if they were old companions.

I bore it as best I could, striving to conceal my impatience. Unaware, he chattered on. “I plant all my own bulbs, of course, and tend the seedlings. Imbar thinks I’m mad for not having the servants do it, though he helps design the pattern of colors. Last month was the peak; a pity you couldn’t have been here.”

“I was, once.”

“With Josip, yes. I remember.” For a moment his arm tightened on mine. “You were a tyke, and he carried you on his shoulder.”

“I’d never seen such bright colors.”

“Did it make a gardener of you? No? A shame.” He shook his head. “When I die my Bouris will tear up the tract, I suppose. Make a kennel for his imp-cursed hounds.”

I dived through memories of past lessons. Mother had deemed it important that I know the families of the realm, in all their generations, and the heralds had dutifully taught me. “Bouris is your first son.”

“And my last. He has an elder sister who’s too much like her mother; between them they drove me to other pursuits.”

I examined a rose trellis to save a reply.

“She whelped well, though. Wouldn’t you agree?”

I was hopelessly lost. “Sir?”

“Tresa. Know you not whom you snarled at, all evening?”

I puzzled it out. “Tresa is your daughter’s daughter ... your granddaughter?”

“Who else? Are you set on undoing the impression you made last afternoon?”

“Uncle Raeth,
please!”
It caused him to stare intently. I blurted, “I’m not witty; I can’t help it. I beg you, don’t play on my clumsiness!”

“Don’t ask me to pity weakness.” After a moment he again took my arm. “Notice the bed of marigolds.”

When at last he was done with me, I fled to my room with as much dignity as I could muster.

It was there Rustin found me, an hour later. “What, bathing on your own?”

I stirred, sending ripples across the tub. “Uncle Raeth made me sweat through my clothes.”

“That never concerned you before.” He untied a bundle, laid the contents on my bed with a flourish. “The latest Norlander styles.”

I climbed out of my bath, snatched a cloth, dripped water across the floor. “Let me see.”

“The best I could find. After yesterday, you deserve it.”

“Don’t mock me. I’ve had enough from—”

“I meant it.” He helped me dry my back. “You set our cause forward by months.”

“But today I set it back a year.” I told him about breakfast, and Tresa.

“Sounds like the old ogre’s testing you.”

“Or softening me for the kill.” I sighed, selected a jerkin. “Shall I wear this?”

“Only if you wish to appear handsome. And don’t pout; the old man can hardly set much store by his granddaughter’s opinion.”

“Why not?”