The Swans' War 1 - The One Kingdom (9 page)

"I had met her but twice, and spoken to her for less than an hour.""But you trusted Grandmother's judgment." "Entirely.""There is the heart of my problem," she said.

"So it is," her father agreed.

"Father? This is not selfishness. I will marry whom you choose, but I don't want to see the fighting begin again. Do you understand? I will not have my marriage give Menwyn the means to make war. Enough Wills have died to assuage family pride"—she paused and took a long breath—"and others as well.""I know you are not being selfish, my dear. But, Elise? When it comes to marriage, it is acceptable to be a little selfish." He paused.” And you are not being willful just to spite Menwyn?""I don't think so," she said, hoping it was true.

"I don't think so either, as tempting as that would be. We shall have to consider carefully how to proceed. Menwyn is a formidable opponent. He bested me in the past," he said without sign of rancor.

"I was too young to help you then," Elise said, not really feeling that this would mean much.

Her father smiled.” Yes," he said, "you are more stubborn than I. And stubbornness is a trait never to be underestimated."Carral made his way up the unlit stair. His meeting with Elise had unsettled him substantially, leaving him pacing back and forth across his room for a long time. Mid-eve had rung some time ago, and had shaken him from his worries at least temporarily. Despite his reassuring words, the truth was, he was unable to provide the protection his daughter required. He could not even offer her proper guidance. If her mother had lived ... But regrets were of no use. Past events couldn't be changed. One couldn't simply wish the illness upon Menwyn, though the thought had occurred to Carral more than once when his wife lay stricken. He came up to the closed door, and, though he had not consciously counted the stairs, he knew when he was there. Rather like counting beats in music—one didn't do it consciously, one simply came in at the right moment. You felt it. He opened the door and immediately sensed the fire. He could hear the wisp of flame and shifting of wood, feel the heat of it, smell the smoke. He could also smell the food. It was likely cold now, but that didn't matter. He was fulfilling a time-honored trust. Someone had to consume at least part of the offering left for the castle ghosts. Who did this was never spoken of; indeed, it was often not known by most of the castle's inhabitants. Carral was sure that some believed the food actually was eaten by ghosts. Using his cane, he felt his way across the room in case furniture had been rearranged—an odd propensity of the sighted. The warmth radiating from the hearth was welcome after his climb up the dank stairway, and he settled in the chair, searching the small table for the wine bottle and a glass. He always wished they served better wine to ghosts and had considered leaving a note of complaint—but to have someone write it would reveal his secret and he couldn't have that.” I hope you aren't of a mind to drink all of that yourself." Carral jumped he was so startled.” Who is that?" The voice seemed to have come from across the room, near the window.” Don't you believe in ghosts?" the voice asked.” But clearly not or you wouldn't be drinking that wine."Carral couldn't identify the voice and he had an unrivaled memory for such things. This one was educated, well modulated; someone conscious of the effect of his tone, his words.

"I don't think I know you, sir," Carral said.

"No ... no, you don't," came the answer.” I am no friend of your brother's, though, I will tell you that.""Many can say the same."

"Yes, but would they dare?"

This made Carral laugh.” Well said, whoever you are. If you are indeed a ghost, what brings you to haunt these Mb, assuming it is not just your professed lack of friendship for my brother?""The reasons are many." The ghost paused. Carral thought he heard the sounds of someone sipping wine.” As I wander among the living I hear a great deal. See a great deal, Men's ambitions are not hidden from me. Your brother, for instance: he wishes to ally himself with the house of Innes.""The Prince of Innes has long been a friend to the Wills," Carral said.

"That is so, but this Prince is not the man his father was. He looks at his domain and sees that it is prosperous and strong. He doesn't understand that this is the result of his father's pursuit of peace. He does not understand the costs of war, nor does he care to understand. No, this new prince has ambitions beyond the father's, and in this he is aided by his advisors, especially a knight named Eremon. Though he was once known as Hafydd.""Hafydd? Not the Hafydd ... ? He would be ancient if he were still alive.""Not so ancient as you think, at least not to the eye. You know him?""Hafydd, yes, at least I know of him." Could this be true?

Carral wondered.” He was among the Renné when my father fought them at the Battle of Standing Stones. He was a great knight and Vie YiaXed. xis!' "Yes, he was, but his hatred has spread. The Renné are foremost in his enmity now. They misused him, or so he thinks: betrayed him, even. His resentment has had many years to fester; for, as you say, he is old. But what he's lost in age he has gained in cunning and malice. He will use the Prince of Innes against the Renné , and he will also use your daughter to that end. He cannot imagine that she would not be his ally in this." Carral was stunned to silence. Who was this man and why was he telling him this? And why did he sound so convincing? "There is more," the voice said.” Eremon, once known as Hafydd, has acquired some of the knowledge once possessed by the Knights of the Vow." Carral felt acid boil up in his stomach.” How can this be? The Renné destroyed the Knights centuries ago." "Not quite so long ago, and knowledge often survives men or is rediscovered." The voice had moved now and stood by the hearth.” Some frightening things have been born of tragedy: hatreds that survive down through the generations." "Life is often tragic," Carral muttered.” Yes," the stranger said.” Tragedy always seems to be lurking in the wings, ready to take the stage. How many opening scenes are blissful: the birth of a beautiful daughter, only to be followed by loss—of a beloved wife, say? But it might not end there. Beware your brother.” Eremon and the Prince need the marriage of your daughter to bring the old allies of the Wills into line. They wait, as your own family does, nursing their resentment, keeping alive the wrongs done them by the Renné and their allies. They have only to see the Wills suddenly restored to former strength. Menwyn and the Prince riding at the head of an army, a son of the two families growing to manhood in some safe place. And Eremon whispering in their ears, telling them where their enemy will march, what fortress he will besiege, how great will be his forces, how weak his alliances." As he spoke the floorboards creaked, tracing his passage around the room. He was to Carral's right now.

Carral could not speak, but sat in fear of what this specter would say next. What words would come out of the darkness. He found the bottle and poured himself wine with a trembling hand. Was there a candle burning? Could this other see him?

"So you see, Carral Wills, knowing a ghost can prove valuable.""Knowing this ghost's purpose would be even more valuable. Why are you telling me these things and why should I believe them?" The ghost cleared its throat not two feet behind Carral. The blind man felt the hair on his neck bristle.

"You should believe them because they are true and you know them to be so. Because you know your brother for what he is, and have no illusions about the intentions of your family."The floor creaked again and the door swung open, letting in a cold breath of air.

"But who are you?" Carral called out.

The ghost paused.” It is a wise man who believes the evidence of his eyes.""But I see nothing."

The door swung softly closed and the treads began to creak as the ghost descended.

ELISE HEARD HER FATHER BEFORE SHE SAW HIM. THERE WERE NO candles in his rooms, and dusk was stealing the light away like a cat stealing the breath from a baby.

He was playing upon the harp, not his virtuoso instrument, but still one upon which he was more than competent Elise paused at the door, listening. It was not a piece she knew, but it seemed to suit the sounds and mood of the evening entirely. The last whisper of falling wind, the lowing of cattle as they made their slow trek back to the barns, a curtain moving in the open window, a nightingale's liquid song. The music became part of all of these sounds, dancing in among them in exquisite counterpoint.

She pushed the door open a fraction more, and the music died away, reverberating for an instant longer in her mind than on the air.” Elise?""How can you know it's me?" she asked, shaking her head. His perceptiveness always astonished her.

"Everyone else knocks, my dear. Even Menwyn." She laughed.” And I thought it was some ... some secret sense.""Well, there is your perfume," he said, holding out his hand. She crossed the room and put her hand in his. He kissed it and held it to his cheek, closing his eyes tightly as he always did.

She often thought her father would have been a striking man if he did not have that emptiness of expression of the blind. His long face and serious countenance gave him an appearance of sadness, though she knew he was not an unhappy man, merely a thoughtful one.

He was the opposite of her in appearance—dark to her fair. Though she, too, had a somewhat long face, which she tried to hide by the way she wore her hair.

He took her hand away from his face, though did not release it. She loved the warmth and gentleness of his fingers— the hands of an artist.

"And what brings you down here to visit your aging father?""You are hardly aging, and do I need a reason other than the pleasure of your company?" She hooked a chair near with her foot—a terribly unladylike act, but she was sure her father would not recognize it as such.” You may visit me anytime you choose, as you well know, whether it is merely for the pleasure of my company, as you put it, or because you need to unburden yourself, but sometimes I sense it is the latter...." She squeezed his hand, wondering where to begin.” Menwyn .. ." he said softly. It was not a question. She nodded.” Shall I assume you are nodding agreement?" This made her smile.” Yes." "He is our particular bane, isn't he?" her father said conspiratorially.” He is pressing you to accept a suitor?" "He keeps saying that it is you who will make the decision ..." she blurted out. Her father sat back in his chair.” Yes, he would say that." "But, Father, Menwyn would have me marry... anyone if his father had enough men-at-arms and was belligerent in nature." She rose from her chair, taking three quick steps in the gathering gloom, but then stopped.” I don't want my marriage to support this senseless feud," she said in a harsh whisper, as though one did not speak such words within these walls. For a moment her father did not answer.” No," he said in a normal tone.” I don't want that either. We shall have to set ourselves to resist Menwyn, though he will rally all the others against us. You know the truth, Elise: he has isolated me almost entirely. We can count on no one but ourselves." He turned his head toward her as he said this, as though she were visible to him. She came and put a hand on his shoulder, bending to kiss his cheek. He was ever her supporter. He reached out and ran his fingers over the strings of the harp, the sound of falling water, and smiled.” You should know, Elise," he said, suddenly serious, "that all of us make appropriate marriages. That does not mean you must marry someone you detest, but even so, you must find a fitting match.""Yes," she said softly.” You loved Mother, didn't you?" "More than words can express, almost more than music can.""But you hardly knew her when you married. . . ?" She knew the answer to these questions, but it had become a litany of reassurance.

"I had met her but twice, and spoken to her for less than an hour.""But you trusted Grandmother's judgment." "Entirely.""There is the heart of my problem," she said.

"So it is," her father agreed.

"Father? This is not selfishness. I will marry whom you choose, but I don't want to see the fighting begin again. Do you understand? I will not have my marriage give Menwyn the means to make war. Enough Wills have died to assuage family pride"—she paused and took a long breath—"and others as well.""I know you are not being selfish, my dear. But, Elise? When it comes to marriage, it is acceptable to be a little selfish." He paused.” And you are not being willful just to spite Menwyn?""I don't think so," she said, hoping it was true.

"I don't think so either, as tempting as that would be. We shall have to consider carefully how to proceed. Menwyn is a formidable opponent. He bested me in the past," he said without sign of rancor.

"I was too young to help you then," Elise said, not really feeling that this would mean much.

Her father smiled.” Yes," he said, "you are more stubborn than I. And stubbornness is a trait never to be underestimated."Carral made his way up the unlit stair. His meeting with Elise had unsettled him substantially, leaving him pacing back and forth across his room for a long time. Mid-eve had rung some time ago, and had shaken him from his worries at least temporarily. Despite his reassuring words, the truth was, he was unable to provide the protection his daughter required. He could not even offer her proper guidance. If her mother had lived ... But regrets were of no use. Past events couldn't be changed. One couldn't simply wish the illness upon Menwyn, though the thought had occurred to Carral more than once when his wife lay stricken. He came up to the closed door, and, though he had not consciously counted the stairs, he knew when he was there. Rather like counting beats in music—one didn't do it consciously, one simply came in at the right moment. You felt it. He opened the door and immediately sensed the fire. He could hear the wisp of flame and shifting of wood, feel the heat of it, smell the smoke. He could also smell the food. It was likely cold now, but that didn't matter. He was fulfilling a time-honored trust. Someone had to consume at least part of the offering left for the castle ghosts. Who did this was never spoken of; indeed, it was often not known by most of the castle's inhabitants. Carral was sure that some believed the food actually was eaten by ghosts. Using his cane, he felt his way across the room in case furniture had been rearranged—an odd propensity of the sighted. The warmth radiating from the hearth was welcome after his climb up the dank stairway, and he settled in the chair, searching the small table for the wine bottle and a glass. He always wished they served better wine to ghosts and had considered leaving a note of complaint—but to have someone write it would reveal his secret and he couldn't have that.” I hope you aren't of a mind to drink all of that yourself." Carral jumped he was so startled.” Who is that?" The voice seemed to have come from across the room, near the window.” Don't you believe in ghosts?" the voice asked.” But clearly not or you wouldn't be drinking that wine."Carral couldn't identify the voice and he had an unrivaled memory for such things. This one was educated, well modulated; someone conscious of the effect of his tone, his words.

"I don't think I know you, sir," Carral said.

"No ... no, you don't," came the answer.” I am no friend of your brother's, though, I will tell you that.""Many can say the same."

"Yes, but would they dare?"

This made Carral laugh.” Well said, whoever you are. If you are indeed a ghost, what brings you to haunt these Mb, assuming it is not just your professed lack of friendship for my brother?""The reasons are many." The ghost paused. Carral thought he heard the sounds of someone sipping wine.” As I wander among the living I hear a great deal. See a great deal, Men's ambitions are not hidden from me. Your brother, for instance: he wishes to ally himself with the house of Innes.""The Prince of Innes has long been a friend to the Wills," Carral said.

"That is so, but this Prince is not the man his father was. He looks at his domain and sees that it is prosperous and strong. He doesn't understand that this is the result of his father's pursuit of peace. He does not understand the costs of war, nor does he care to understand. No, this new prince has ambitions beyond the father's, and in this he is aided by his advisors, especially a knight named Eremon. Though he was once known as Hafydd.""Hafydd? Not the Hafydd ... ? He would be ancient if he were still alive.""Not so ancient as you think, at least not to the eye. You know him?""Hafydd, yes, at least I know of him." Could this be true?

Carral wondered.” He was among the Renné when my father fought them at the Battle of Standing Stones. He was a great knight and Vie YiaXed. xis!' "Yes, he was, but his hatred has spread. The Renné are foremost in his enmity now. They misused him, or so he thinks: betrayed him, even. His resentment has had many years to fester; for, as you say, he is old. But what he's lost in age he has gained in cunning and malice. He will use the Prince of Innes against the Renné , and he will also use your daughter to that end. He cannot imagine that she would not be his ally in this." Carral was stunned to silence. Who was this man and why was he telling him this? And why did he sound so convincing? "There is more," the voice said.” Eremon, once known as Hafydd, has acquired some of the knowledge once possessed by the Knights of the Vow." Carral felt acid boil up in his stomach.” How can this be? The Renné destroyed the Knights centuries ago." "Not quite so long ago, and knowledge often survives men or is rediscovered." The voice had moved now and stood by the hearth.” Some frightening things have been born of tragedy: hatreds that survive down through the generations." "Life is often tragic," Carral muttered.” Yes," the stranger said.” Tragedy always seems to be lurking in the wings, ready to take the stage. How many opening scenes are blissful: the birth of a beautiful daughter, only to be followed by loss—of a beloved wife, say? But it might not end there. Beware your brother.” Eremon and the Prince need the marriage of your daughter to bring the old allies of the Wills into line. They wait, as your own family does, nursing their resentment, keeping alive the wrongs done them by the Renné and their allies. They have only to see the Wills suddenly restored to former strength. Menwyn and the Prince riding at the head of an army, a son of the two families growing to manhood in some safe place. And Eremon whispering in their ears, telling them where their enemy will march, what fortress he will besiege, how great will be his forces, how weak his alliances." As he spoke the floorboards creaked, tracing his passage around the room. He was to Carral's right now.

Carral could not speak, but sat in fear of what this specter would say next. What words would come out of the darkness. He found the bottle and poured himself wine with a trembling hand. Was there a candle burning? Could this other see him?

"So you see, Carral Wills, knowing a ghost can prove valuable.""Knowing this ghost's purpose would be even more valuable. Why are you telling me these things and why should I believe them?" The ghost cleared its throat not two feet behind Carral. The blind man felt the hair on his neck bristle.

"You should believe them because they are true and you know them to be so. Because you know your brother for what he is, and have no illusions about the intentions of your family."The floor creaked again and the door swung open, letting in a cold breath of air.

"But who are you?" Carral called out.

The ghost paused.” It is a wise man who believes the evidence of his eyes.""But I see nothing."

The door swung softly closed and the treads began to creak as the ghost descended.