“And they would have succeeded, had it not been for your efforts, kinsman,” said Geremy Hastur to Dom Rafael. He was wearing a long robe, a scholar’s robe of purple so deep that it was almost black. He was unweaponed save for a small dagger. The long robe hid the ungainly lameness, but could not conceal the uneven stance or his halting step, supported on a crutch like a man four times his age. His red hair was already graying at the temples, and he had begun, like an old man, to wear a fringe of beard at his jaws. Bard thought, with contempt, that his foster-brother looked less like a warrior than one of those Renunciates who had fought in his army!
Dom Rafael and Geremy embraced as kinsmen, but then they broke apart; Geremy’s eyes fell on Bard where he stood two paces behind his father.
“You!”
“Are you surprised to see me, kinsman?”
“You were outlawed in this realm for seven years, Bard; and there is the blood of the royal house on your hands now. Your life is doubly forfeit here. Give me a single good reason I should not tell my men to take you out and hang you from the walls!”
Bard said hotly, “You know by what betrayal that blood came on my hands—” but Dom Rafael silenced him with a gesture.
“Is this gratitude, cousin Geremy? Bard led the assault which saved Castle Asturias from falling into Serrais hands. Had he not come, your head would now be hanging for a popinjay, for Dom Eiric’s men to use at target practice!”
Geremy’s mouth tightened.
“I have never doubted that my cousin was brave,” he said, “and so, I suppose, I must grant him amnesty, life for life. Be it so, Bard; come and go in this realm as your lawful duties warrant. But not in my presence. When the army goes, go you with them, and do not come into my court for your life’s span, for on the day I set eyes on you again, I will certainly have you killed.”
“As for that,” Bard began, but Dom Rafael cut in.
“Enough. Before you go to passing sentences of death or banishment, Hastur, you had better have a throne to speak from. On what grounds do you claim to reign here?”
“As regent for Valentine, son of Ardrin, at Queen Ariel’s request; and as warden for these lands, which have been, since time out of mind, a part of the Hastur Domains, and shall be again, when these years of anarchy are past. The Hasturs of Carcosa are a peaceful folk, and will let the di Asturiens reign here, as long as they swear allegiance to the Domain of Hastur, and Valentine has already done so.”
“Oh, brave!” retorted Dom Rafael, “Great glory and gallant deeds are yours, Geremy Hastur, to extort an oath from a babe not five years old! Did you promise the child a toy sword and a new pony, or did you get it cheaply from him for a sugared cake and a handful of candies?”
Geremy flinched at the sarcasm. “He listened to the persuasion of his mother, Queen Ariel,” he said. “She knew well that I would guard the boy’s rights till he was grown; at which time, he said to me, he would take oath as a man, to reign here as warden for the Hasturs.”
Dom Rafael said fiercely, “We want no Hasturs in this land which the di Asturiens have held since they won it from the cat-folk ages ago!”
“The men of this land will follow Valentine, their rightful lord, in allegiance to the lawful Hastur King,” Geremy said.
“Will they? If you believe it, you had better ask them, my lord.”
“I had believed,” Geremy said, holding his temper with obvious effort, “that we were under truce, Dom Rafael.”
“Truce while the Serrais armies held you here; but behold, that army lies in ruins, and I doubt if Dom Eiric will muster enough men to put an army in the field for ten years or more! Even if we let him live! And as for that,” he added, signaling to one of his bodyguards, “take Dom Eiric away and keep him secure.”
“In a dungeon, my lord?”
Dom Rafael looked Eiric Ridenow up and down. “No,” he said. “That would be over hard on his old bones. If he will give oath under truthspell not to attempt escape until we have determined his fate, we will house him in comfort befitting his rank and his gray hairs.”
“For every gray hair on my head,” Dom Eiric said truthfully, “there are ten on yours, Rafael di Asturien!”
“Even so, I shall house you in comfort till your sons can ransom you, for they will need you at home till they are grown. Little boys are impetuous, and they might try something too dangerous for them.”
Dom Eiric glared, but at last he said, “Bring our leronis. I will swear by the walls of Serrais that I will not leave this place till you yourself dismiss me, dead or alive.”
Bard laughed harshly. He said, “Take from him some oath stronger than the walls of Serrais, Father, for I can go and break those whenever I will.”
Dom Eiric glowered, but he did not speak, for what Bard said was true, and he knew it. Dom Rafael said to his guard, “Take him to some comfortable chamber, and keep him there secure until I can take his oath. Your life for it if he escapes before a leronis has his oath.”
Geremy Hastur scowled as the old lord was led away. “Don’t presume too far on my gratitude, cousin. You are over free, it seems to me, in disposing of my prisoners.”
“Your prisoners? When will you face the truth, cousin?” Dom Rafael asked. “Your rule here is ended, and I shall prove it to you.” He gestured to Bard, who stepped out on the balcony.
In the courtyard below, where the army was quartered, he heard a wild outburst of cheering. “The Wolf! The Kilghard Wolf!”
“Our general! He led us to victory!”
“Dom Rafael’s son! Long live the house of di Asturien!” Dom Rafael stepped out on the balcony, calling, “Listen to me, men! You have won freedom from Serrais. Will you turn Asturias over to the Hasturs? I claim that throne for the house of di Asturien; not for myself, but in ward for my son Alaric!”
Wild cheering drowned out his words. When there was quiet, he said, “Your turn, my lord Geremy. Ask if there are any men down there who wish to live for twelve years or so under the rule of Hastur while Ardrin’s son Valentine grows to manhood.”
Bard felt that he could taste Geremy’s hate and wrath, it was so thick around them; but the young man did not speak, only stepped out on the balcony. There were one or two cries of “No Hasturs!” “Down with the Hastur tyrants!” but after a moment they quieted.
“Men of di Asturien,” he called out. His voice was a strong, resonant bass which gave the lie to the frail body containing it. “In days past, Hastur, son of Light, won this realm and set the di Asturiens over it, in wardship! I stand here for King Valentine, son of Ardrin. Are you traitors, men, to rebel against your rightful king?”
“Where’s that king, then?” shouted one man in the crowd. “If he’s our rightful king, why isn’t he here, being brought up among his lawful subjects?”
“No Hastur puppet kings here,” another one shouted. “Get back to Hali where you belong, Hastur!”
“We’ll have a real di Asturien on the throne, not a Hastur flunkey!”
“We’ll kiss no Hastur arses in Asturias!” Bard listened, with growing satisfaction, as the cries grew louder. Someone threw a stone. Geremy did not flinch; he flung up a hand and the stone exploded in a flare of blue light. There was a gasp and a yell of rage.
“No wizard kings in Asturias!”
“We’ll have a soldier, not a damned laranzu!”
“Dom Rafael! Dom Rafael! Who stands for King Alaric?” they yelled, and there were even a few cries of “Bard! Bard di Asturien! We’ll have the Kilghard Wolf!”
Someone threw another stone, which did not pass within a hand-span of Geremy. He did not bother to deflect this one. Then someone threw a handful of courtyard horse dung which splattered on the pruple robe. Geremy’s paxman caught him by the elbow and dragged him away from the balcony.
Dom Rafael said, “Do you still think you can claim the throne of Asturias, Dom Geremy? Perhaps I should send your head back to Queen Ariel and the folk at Carcosa, as warning to the lady to choose her servants mo
re carefully.”
Geremy’s smile was as grim as the old man’s. “I would not advise it. King Valentine loves his playmate Alaric; but I doubt not that Queen Ariel could persuade him to send you back gift for gift.”
Bard stepped forward, fists clenched, but Dom Rafael shook his head. “No, my son. No bloodshed here. We mean no harm to the Hasturs while they rule their own lands and meddle not with ours. But you will remain my guest until my son Alaric dwells again beneath this roof.”
“Do you think Carolin of Carcosa will deal with an usurper?”
“Then,” said Dom Rafael, “I shall be happy to entertain you as long as you desire, my lord. Should I not live long enough to see your return to Carcosa, I have a grandson who will reign as Warden of Asturias for my son Alaric.” He said to Bard, “Conduct our royal guest to his chambers—he is royal in Carcosa, though he shall never be so in Asturias. And station servants to see that he lacks for nothing, and that he does not go exploring in the woods and perhaps fall and damage his lame leg. We must care for the son of King Carolin with great kindness.”
“I shall see that he stays within his chamber in study and meditation, and takes no risk of injuring himself with exercise,” Bard said, and laid a hand on Geremy’s shoulder.
“Come, cousin.”
Geremy shook off the touch as if it burned him. “You damned bastard, don’t presume to put your hands on me!”
“I find no pleasure in the touch,” Bard said. “I am no lover of men. You will not come at my courteous request? Why, then—” He signaled to two of the soldiers, “My lord Hastur is experiencing some difficulty in walking; he is lame, as you see. Kindly assist him to his chamber.”
Geremy yelled and shouted as the husky men-at-arms picked him up bodily and carried him; then, recalling his dignity, subsided and allowed them to take him. But the look he gave Bard told him that if he ever again met Bard armed and ready, he could expect to fight him to the death.
I should have killed him when I had the chance, Bard thought bitterly. But I had lamed him by mischance. I could not kill him unarmed.
I would rather have Geremy as foster brother and friend, not enemy. What god hates me, that this has come to pass!
The change of power in Castle Asturias was accomplished within a few days, without much trouble. They had to hang a few of Geremy’s loyal men, who organized a palace rebellion, but one of the laranzu smelled out the plot before it had gone far. Soon all was quiet. Bard heard from Melisendra that one of the exiled Queen’s ladies was bearing Geremy Hastur’s child, and had begged to join him in his imprisonment.“
“I did not know Geremy had a sweetheart. Do you know her name?”
“Ginevra,” Melisendra said, and Bard raised his eyebrows. He remembered Ginevra Harryl.
“You are a leronis,” he said. “Can’t you force her to miscarry, or something of that sort? It is bad enough to keep one Hastur prisoner, without starting a dynasty.”
Melisendra’s eyes were pale with lambent wrath. “No leronis would so abuse her powers!”
“Do you think me a fool, woman? Don’t tell me fairy tales of virtue! Every camp follower who finds herself breeding against her will knows a sorceress who will lighten her of that inconvenient burden!”
At white heat, Melisendra retorted, “If the woman does not wish to bear a child into squalor, or on campaign, or fatherless, or when she knows she will have no milk for it— then, no doubt, some leronis would take pity on her! But to kill a much-longed-for babe, simply because some man finds it inconvenient to his throne?” Her eyes flamed at him. “Do you think I wanted your child, Bard di Asiurien? But it was done, and irrevocable, and whatever came of it, I had lost the Sight… so I kept from damaging an innocent life, even though I had not desired it. And if I could keep from laying hands on that, do you think I would harm Ginevra’s child even in thought? Ginevra loves her babe and its father! If you want your dirty work done, send a man with a sword to cut her throat, and be done with it!”
Bard found nothing to say. It was an unwelcome thought—that Melisendra might have rid herself, so easily, of that child who had become Erlend. Why had she held her hand?
And there was the problem of Ginevra. Damn women and their idiotic scruples! Melisendra had killed in battle, he knew that. Yet here was a potential enemy of the Asturiens, more dangerous than one who bore sword or pike, and that enemy was to live! He would not demean himself by arguing with her, but let her beware how she crossed him again! He told her so, and slammed out of the room.
Being forced to think of the woman he had and did not want reminded him, perforce, of the woman he wanted and could not have. And after a time he thought of a way to use Ginevra and her coming child.
When the countryside was quiet, and the armies had returned home, except for the standing army Bard was training for defense and perhaps conquest (for he knew perfectly well that the Hasturs would someday descend on them, hostages or no) Lady Jerana had lost no time in coming to court. Bard sought her out in the apartments that had been Queen Ariel’s.
“The lady Ginevra Harryl, who is with child by Hastur—is she healthy and well? When will she be brought to bed?”
“Perhaps three moons,” Lady Jerana said.
“Do me a kindness, foster mother? See to it that she is housed in comfort, with suitable ladies to care for her, and a good and trustworthy midwife in attendance.
The lady frowned. She said, “Why, so she is, she has three waiting-women known to have Hastur sympathies, and the midwife who delivered your own son waits on her; but I know you too well to think you do this out of any kindness to the Lady Ginevra.”
“No?” Bard said. “Have you forgotten that Geremy is my own foster brother?”
Jerana looked skeptical, but Bard said no more. However, later that day, when he had verified for himself that all Dom Rafael’s wife said was true, he went to Geremy’s apartments.
Geremy was playing at a game called Castles with one of the pages who had been sent to wait on him. When Bard came in he put aside the dice and got awkwardly to his feet.
“You needn’t stand on courtesy, Geremy. In fact, you need not stand at all.”
“It is customary for a prisoner to stand in the presence of his jailer,” Geremy said.
“Please yourself,” Bard said. “I came to bring you news of the Lady Ginevra Harryl. I am sure you are too proud to ask news of her on your own, so I came to assure you that she is lodged in a suite next to that of my father’s wife, and that her own women, Camilla and Rafaella Delleray and Felizia MacAnndra have been sent to wait upon her; and that a midwife trained in our own household is in attendance upon her.”
Geremy’s fists clenched. “Knowing you,” he said, “I am sure this is your way of telling me that you have taken revenge for some fancied insult by casting her and her women into some dirty dungeon with an accursed and filthy slut to mishandle her in childbirth.”
“You misjudge me, cousin. She is housed in comfort considerably greater than your own, and I will say so under truthspell, if you like.”
“Why would you do that?” Geremy asked suspiciously.
“Because, knowing how a man is troubled for the thought of his womenfolk,” Bard said, “I thought you might be as eager for news of your lady as I for mine. If you wish, it can be arranged for Ginevra to join you here…”
Geremy dropped on his seat and covered his face with his hands. He said, “Do you take pleasure in tormenting me, Bard? You have no shadow of a quarrel with Ginevra, but if it gives you enjoyment to see me humiliated, I will crawl to you on my knees, if I must; do not harm Ginevra or her child.”
Bard opened the door to admit a leronis of the household—not Melisendra. When the blue light of truthspell was in the chamber, he said, “Hear me now, Geremy. Lady Ginevra is housed in luxurious apartments, not a stone’s throw from those of Queen Ariel when we were boys. She has ample food for a breeding woman, and such things as she best likes, by my orders. She has her own women w
ith her, sleeping in her chamber so that no one will trouble her, and my own mother’s midwife is within call.”
Geremy watched the steady light of truthspell and it did not flicker. He was still suspicious, but he knew enough of laran, himself trained in that art, to know there had been no deceit in the setting of the spell. He demanded, “Why do you say all this to me?”
“Because,” Bard said, “I too have a wife, whom I have not seen for seven long years of outlawry and exile. If you will tell me, under truthspell, where I can find Carlina, I am ready to allow Ginevra to join you here, or to move you, under guard, into her suite, until the birth of your child.”
Geremy threw back his head and laughed, a long laugh of despair.
“Would that I could tell you!” he said. “I had forgotten how seriously you took that handfasting… we all took it seriously then, before your quarrel with Ardrin.”
“Carlina is my wife,” Bard said. “And since there is truth-spell here, tell me this truthfully, too: did not Ardrin repent of his promise and try to give her to you, Hastur-spawn?”
“He repented it early and late,” Geremy said, “and with Beltran dead, and you fled into outlawry, he held the bond between you forfeit. And, indeed, he offered her to me. But don’t clench your teeth and scowl like that, Wolf; Carlina would have nothing to do with me, and she told him so, though the old king threw a mighty tantrum about it, and swore he would not be so defied by any woman living!”
The light of the truthspell on his face did not waver; Bard knew he spoke the truth. He felt an upsurge of joy. Carlina remembered their bond, she had refused to set it aside even for Geremy!
“And where is she, Geremy? Speak, and Ginevra is free to join you here.”
Geremy’s laugh held the bitterness of despair. “Where is she now? Willingly, willingly I will tell you, cousin! She has sworn the vows of a priestess of Avarra, which even her father dared not gainsay,” he said, “and she has fled the court and the kingdom, and made her way to the Isle of Silence, where she is sworn to live out the rest of her life in chastity and prayer. And if you want her, cousin, you will have to go there and take her.”