He spun then, twisting the arm around to drive the knife and the hand wielding it into Perry’s unprotected stomach.
Or at least he tried to do so.
Cyhan’s hand caught his shoulder before his spin started, robbing him of the necessary momentum. “That’s enough.”
Still enraged, Gram released his opponent and relaxed his knees, dropping a foot before sending a fist at his teacher’s stomach.
Cyhan half-stepped to the side and clubbed Gram hard in the side of the head. “I said that’s enough!”
Gram stared at him, his face blank and uncomprehending, and then he became aware of himself again. Scrambling to his feet he ducked his head, “Yes, Zaihair.”
Mordecai Illeniel arrived then. He glanced at the blood on the floor and then at the mess that Perry’s face had become. “Can someone explain to me why you two felt the need to attempt to destroy my peace of mind and ruin a perfectly good ball?”
“I think he broke my ribs,” gasped Lord Stephen, trying and failing to rise from where he had fallen.
The Count stared at him blankly for a moment. “They’re cracked. Hold still.” Leaning over he closed his eyes and placed a hand on Stephen’s side. The injured lord began to breathe easier after a moment. “There, that’s better, though you’re still going to have a nasty bruise. Someone get this man a tankard of ale. Help him up!”
People rushed to obey as Mordecai turned to Lord Eric, but that worthy waved him away.
“It’s fine,” said Eric, holding one hand to his face. “Just swollen.”
Mordecai looked at Gram, who was now red with shame. “Gram, would you like to explain why you tried to rearrange Perry here, as well as why you went so far as to assault my guests?”
Gram stared at the Count, his mind frantically rushing to find an acceptable answer. The truth was impossible. He refused to repeat Perry’s lie in front of so many people, or in front of anyone for that matter. It was the sort of lie that would immediately become rumor, and whether there was any truth to it or not would be irrelevant. Just the suggestion would damage her reputation.
His mouth opened but nothing came out, his brain had completely seized up.
Exasperated, Mordecai turned to Perry, “Perhaps you would like to explain what happened that so enraged young Gram here? Or why you felt so threatened that you drew steel in my hall?”
Most of Perry’s face was obscured by a large rag, which he was now using to staunch the blood coming from his broken nose. Only his eyes were fully visible, but they were expressive, ranging first to the Count and then back to Gram. He knew the impact his words would have if they were repeated in front of the entire assemblage.
He had wanted to hurt Gram, and by extension Alyssa, but even he didn’t want to hurt her that much. Nor did he want to be seen as a jealous, petty, ex-lover that would do something so spiteful. No one would win if he repeated his statement now.
And Gram would probably hunt him down and kill him later; at least that is what his ex-friend’s eyes were silently warning him. The past few minutes had taught him a new level of fear for Gram Thornbear.
“It was personal, Your Excellency,” answered Perry at last.
Mordecai looked back at Gram, “Is that true?”
He nodded, “Yes, sir.”
“The next time the two of you have a ‘personal’ matter, please refrain from attempting to resolve it in a public space. Your quarrel has not only spoiled the mood of one of my favorite events, but you have physically wounded some of my guests. Do you understand how serious this matter is?”
They both nodded, keeping their eyes down and replying with ‘yes sirs’.
“Is your quarrel done?”
Despite his previous rage, Gram’s head had cooled considerably and his anger was somewhat mollified by the fact that Perry had refused to divulge his hateful remark to the crowd. He couldn’t forgive Perry yet, but he had repaid him for the insult. Still, he waited for the other boy to answer first.
“Yes, milord,” said Perry.
“Yes, sir,” agreed Gram.
“Captain Draper,” barked the Count.
“Yes, my lord!” responded the guard captain, who was now standing close by with several men at arms. The look he was giving his son was one of extreme disappointment.
“Take these two fools and lock them up. I don’t want them running loose until I decide what to do with them,” said Mordecai.
The captain hesitated.
“What, Captain?”
“Where, my lord? We have no dungeon.”
Mordecai smiled, “I know the perfect place.”
***
The hours passed slowly beneath the castle. Both Gram and Perry had heard of the Iron Heart Chamber, but neither had ever seen it before. It was the place that Mordecai had once imprisoned Karenth the Just, the now-dead god of justice.
The trip down to it had been frightening enough, for the Count had built the chamber deep beneath the castle. The long trip, down, down, through long narrow corridors of stone, had been disturbing. They could almost feel the weight of all that earth pressing down on their heads and shoulders.
It was a place no man could hope to escape from, should his jailor fail to return with the key. It had been built to hold a god.
“How long do you think the Count will keep us here?” asked Perry after an hour had passed, his voice thick and nasal because of the damage to his nose. It was the first time either of them had spoken since being imprisoned.
Gram only glared at him, refusing to speak to his enemy.
An unknown period of time passed, perhaps an hour, possibly more, when Perry spoke again, “Look, I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
Perry looked away, “That wasn’t me. It wasn’t the me that I wanted to be. It was petty and cruel…”
“No,” interrupted Gram. “Why would you try to hurt her? Can you hate someone so much for rejecting you?”
The captain’s son struggled with his emotions before answering, “It wasn’t so much about her, as it was you. I loved her, or I thought I did, but really it was you I wanted to hurt.”
“What did I ever do to you?”
“Nothing,” said Perry bitterly. “You didn’t have to. It was who you were, who you are.”
“That’s a piss poor reason for being an ass. I thought of you as a friend.”
“Yeah, it is, but that’s the size of it. My whole life I’ve been compared to you. When we were little I looked up to you. You were always faster, stronger, quicker, but I thought if I just stayed close enough I could be like you. Then we got older and I realized that I’d never be like you. No matter how hard I worked people would always say, ‘He’s good, but just imagine, if Gram were allowed to train’.”
Gram stared at Perry as though he’d grown a second head. In his wildest dreams he’d never imagined that anyone would be jealous of him. “You, were jealous of me? You have everything I ever wanted!”
“Such as?”
“You’re a squire, someday they’ll make a knight of you!”
“So? Someday you’ll take your title and they’ll dub you a knight as well.”
“As a formality, maybe, that’s not what I want,” argued Gram.
“You’re still more popular with the ladies, always were.”
“Why did you lie like that? If you wanted to insult me, why bring her into it?”
Perry studied Gram’s face, considering his words. The wrong response might result in his death. He already felt a powerful remorse for what he had done, but he couldn’t mend things by being truthful now. “Not everyone has your strength, Gram. Deep down, I’m just a weak and pathetic man.”
“Just shut up,” barked Gram. “I’m sick of your whining. I’m not going to pity you.”
“I truly am sorry,” said Perry. “If Sir Cyhan doesn’t strip me of my duty as his squire I will renounce it myself. I’m not worthy to be a knight.”
“Do you want me to bloody your nose again?” t
hreatened Gram.
“I’m being honest.”
“Someday they’re going to talk about last night, and it’ll look pretty damn sad if the man I beat up is some broken has-been,” said Gram.
“Huh?” Perry was confused.
“I’m saying you’d better finish what you started. If you want to make this right then you’ll damn well make a man of yourself. Become a knight, and make them sing your songs someday.”
“And how does that make things better for you, exactly?”
“At the very least, I’ll be the man that once beat the shit out of the great Sir Perry. That’s enough for me.” Gram smiled weakly.
Perry laughed but stopped abruptly as his nose began to bleed again. Tilting his head back he kept the rag against it until it stopped. “It isn’t fair,” he said after a while.
“What isn’t?”
“That I should be trained as a knight while Dorian Thornbear’s son is left to waste.”
Chapter 23
It was late afternoon the following day when they were finally released. Hungry and thirsty, Gram returned to his family’s apartment to face his mother’s wrath.
She wasn’t there, but his grandmother and sister were waiting for him.
Carissa embraced him immediately, squeezing him tightly within her small arms. “Sorry for making you worry,” he told her.
“At least you’re thinking along the right lines,” commented Elise Thornbear as she watched them.
“Sorry, Nana,” said Gram.
“Come here,” the older woman told him. She held him at arm’s length, examining him visually. “Did you get hurt at all?”
“Only my pride.”
“Bah,” she replied, “that’s no hurt at all then.”
“I’ve let you down.”
“If you tell your mother this I’ll deny it, but I can’t say I’m entirely displeased,” admitted the old woman.
Gram was flabbergasted.
“Don’t give me that look, child. You’re too much like your grandfather.”
“Which one?” asked Carissa aloud.
“Both of them!” answered Elise. “Take your pick. Duncan Hightower was almost as big a fool as my husband when he was young.”
“What about Father?” said Carissa.
Elise laughed, “My son was a timid boy. He never got into fights.”
“Timid?” Gram had certainly never heard his father described like that.
“Yes,” sighed Elise. “My son was sweet to a fault. His father thought there was something wrong with him. He never hurt a soul, or even raised his hand to anyone, when he was growing up. Even in training he restrained himself, lest he hurt someone else.”
“But…”
She waved her hands, “Yes, yes, I know what you’ve probably heard. Your father was a great warrior, and the world is sorrier for his loss, but until Devon Tremont tried to kill his best friend, he never laid hands on another in anger.”
“And even then it was not Devon who received his first blow,” said Rose, standing in the doorway.
Elise was startled, but then she chuckled, “I had forgotten about that.”
“What? Forgotten about what, Nana?” asked Carissa.
“It was your mother,” said Elise.
Gram stared at her in shock.
“He was about to kill Devon Tremont, but your mother interfered, or so they told me. I wasn’t there,” explained Elise.
“But it wasn’t a hard hit—was it Mother?” said Gram, looking to his mother for reassurance.
“He split my lip, but it wasn’t intentional. I surprised him and he caught me with a backhanded swing before he knew it was me,” Rose told them. “He felt guilty for that for years after.”
“In any case,” said Elise, “they’ll all be more careful now. It’s been time and time enough since people learned to be wary of the Thornbears.”
Rose frowned at Elise in disapproval, “May I speak to you privately for a moment?” The two women went into Gram’s room and closed the door.
His sister hugged him again before asking, “Why did you do it?”
Gram looked into her trusting blue eyes and felt ashamed, but he tried to hide it with a casual smile. “I told you before the dance, remember?”
“Told me what?”
“That I’d beat anyone that didn’t ask you for a dance, as well as anyone that did dance with you,” he reminded.
Carissa thought about it a moment. In point of fact, Perry had not asked her to dance, while she had danced with both Lord Eric and Lord Stephen. All three of them had been injured during Gram’s brawl. She knew he was joking, but she went along with it anyway, patting his hand softly. “I had forgotten!” she exclaimed in mock seriousness. “I shall have to be very careful to whom I show my favor in the future.”
Elise stepped out of his bedroom, and Rose called to him. “Gram, come here please.” He went inside, and she shut the door behind him.
“You realize that you’ve shamed the entire family, don’t you? This is no laughing matter,” lectured his mother.
“I do.”
“I’ve had to apologize to Lord Eric and Lord Stephen, something you will also be doing immediately after we finish here. I will have to send expensive presents to their households to make up for your insult.”
“I’m sorry, Mother.”
“Would you like to explain what possessed you to attack Captain Draper’s son in the middle of a formal ball?” Her voice was calm, but he could sense the anger beneath her calm veneer.
“No, Mother, I won’t.”
Her eyes flashed, a warning he knew better than to ignore. “Why not?”
“I won’t repeat lies, even to mitigate my actions.”
“So, you think you’re protecting someone. Is that it?”
He gave a faint nod.
“Alyssa came by, hoping to see you,” said Rose, changing course. “We had a lovely chat.”
His face went pale.
“Don’t worry. I said nothing untoward to her. She seemed genuinely concerned for you,” she reassured him. “Did she have anything to do with your brawl?”
Gram held perfectly still, afraid to move, or even breathe.
Rose narrowed her eyes, “Perhaps it had something to do with this?” Throwing open the door to his wardrobe she pulled out the plain dress that Alyssa had left there. She held it tightly in one fist, her arm shaking with anger.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?!” she barked at him. “Did you?!”
He stared back, unable to find the words.
“Answer me!” shouted Rose. Her hand shot out and slapped him, hard.
“Please, Mother, it isn’t what you think…”
“Isn’t it? Do you realize that I knew before I found this dress? This was just the most blatant evidence. Your every word and action has screamed the truth for all to see.” Turning, she snatched up the piece of ribbon from where it lay on the floor. “This isn’t your sister’s, by the way.
“Who else knows?” she continued. “Was that why you attacked young Master Draper? Had you discovered his previous dilly-dallying’s with your leman?”
“That’s a lie!” said Gram, raising his voice.
“Ah! There’s the rowdy tough who beat a young man so badly he thought you might kill him.”
“That isn’t how it was,” protested Gram.
“That’s exactly how it was! Only a bully and a coward would beat a man after he’s down. That poor boy never had a chance! You beat him half-to-death to cover your own guilt!” she accused.
“That’s not true,” said Gram, tears starting in his eyes. Inwardly though, he felt keenly the kernel of truth behind the words. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Stop thinking with your privates! I didn’t raise you to be some randy, lust-addled, half-wit fighting in the streets over some slut!”
“No!” shouted Gram. “Don’t you dare speak of Alyssa that way!” He was trembling now.
“Or w
hat?” challenged Rose. “You’ll strike me down? Is that how you solve all your problems now?”
“No.” Gram clamped his mouth shut, trying to control himself. It felt as though his chest might explode.
Rose watched him, her own face red, and then she took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” she told him. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so hurt in my life.”
“I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Mother.”
“Well, you did! I’ve never been so disappointed, no—disgusted. Do you think your father would have wanted you to behave this way?”
“No.”
“Who taught you to fight like that?” she asked then, but she spoke again before he could reply. “Never mind, I already know the answer to that. I heard you address Cyhan out there. That’s plain enough.
“I’d have the brute strung up for it if I had my way,” she muttered. “Unfortunately, that’s not an option,” she added, talking now to herself before looking at her son once again. “Is that what you want? Do you think that’s what your father wants?”
“That doesn’t matter,” said Gram softly.
“What?”
“I said, ‘That doesn’t matter’!” he repeated loudly. “I am not Dorian Thornbear and I won’t ever be. It isn’t his life to live, it’s mine! I don’t care what you want, or what he wanted. I want to be me, Gram Thornbear!” The words sounded blasphemous to his own ears, but he felt them earnestly, down to the bottom of his soul.
Lady Rose Thornbear went still, staring at her son with wide eyes. After a moment it became too much and she turned away to stare out the small narrow window.
Gram watched her, his anger fading to be replaced by an unnamed dread. His mother’s shoulders were moving, though no sound came from her. He had said what shouldn’t have been said, and now he couldn’t take it back.
“Fine,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.
“Mother…”
“You’re right,” she continued in a quiet voice. “It’s your life, and I have no right to try and live it for you.”
He took a step forward, trying to close the gap, to bridge the distance that was growing between them.
“This is my fault. I’ve tried too hard to protect you, to keep you from the things that would hurt you. Your father wouldn’t have wanted this. He was sick at heart, near the end, but he would have trained you. I chose to interpret his words to suit myself. I didn’t want to lose you.”