Arcadia (54 page)

‘Of course he meant it. He had to mean it. If I escape, his life will be forfeit.’

‘So both of you go.’

‘And live with the dishonour of being an oath breaker?’

‘Well … yes. I mean, there are worse things, surely?’

‘Stupid girl.’

‘I am not,’ Rosalind responded stoutly. ‘Don’t you dare talk to me like that. Don’t you dare.’

The two women glared at each other.

‘She’s right,’ Jay mumbled into the gap.

‘Oh, shut up, Jay,’ Rosalind said. ‘Keep out of it.’

‘She’s right,’ Kate added. ‘You’ve caused enough trouble already.’

Jay subsided into an outnumbered silence, and the two faced each other again.

‘What’s so terrible? Don’t give me that Lady of Willdon nonsense. You may be terribly grand here, but not where I come from. Not here either, at the moment, as far as I can see. I couldn’t care less. In fact, I’ve had enough of all of you.’

‘Everything depends on your honour. Don’t you understand that?’

Rosalind shook her head. ‘Your husband was murdered, I understand. Either you or Pamarchon was responsible. Each
of you would cheerfully kill the other but you get upset over a promise? Are you totally mad?’

‘Let me explain,’ Jay said. ‘You see, it all goes back to the first Level of the Story …’

‘I don’t care about the Story,’ Rosalind interrupted. ‘I do not care. I care so little it almost hurts. Dear God, you people! Constantly referring everything back to a set of fairy tales. No wonder you all live in little huts with muddy roads and no central heating. I want a hot bath and some toast. Is there a story for that? No. So I can’t have it. I want white sliced bread with butter on it and some strawberry jam, and a proper cup of tea, and all I get is people telling me what’s done and not done, and what the Story says and doesn’t say. Can’t you grow up?’

She stopped, leaving Jay open-mouthed; Kate seemed shocked into silence.

‘Look,’ Rosalind began once more in a more conciliatory tone. ‘I know it’s important for you, but it doesn’t mean anything to me. All I see is that you are stuck here, presumably in considerable danger, and you won’t do anything about it. And I am stuck here as well and I want to go home. And I can’t. And all you worry about is what is proper. You’re worse than my mother.’

Stifling her own tears as best she could, Rosalind strode off.

*

Had she been a little more self-aware, she would have noticed that the first thing she had thought of when she woke up was Pamarchon. When she got into an argument, in the back of her mind, she had thought that Pamarchon would understand. When she felt desperate, the person she thought of turning to for help was not Jay, or Kate, but the outlaw who had confessed his love the night before. Pamarchon. Tall and handsome, with kind eyes and elegant, gracious step. Whose gentle laughter at her dreadful dancing had been so kindly, whose sincerity she did not doubt. She remembered when he had touched her cheek in the forest,
as though it was the first time she had been alive; her excitement when he held her as they danced, her distress as he had walked off and left her. She remembered the giddy feeling as he said how much he loved Lady Rosalind …

She stumbled into the woods, not wishing anyone to see her tears and confusion, sensible enough to get out of hearing distance before she collapsed onto a dead tree trunk and began to cry her eyes out, until her chest hurt with sobbing.

What now? In her mind, she thought someone – well, preferably Pamarchon – should come along, see her and ask what the problem was. Sympathy, understanding. That’s what happened in all the books she had read. She stopped sniffling and looked around. No one. If this really did have something to do with Professor Lytten’s story, she wished he’d got around to the bits about people falling in love.

She could either sit here, feeling sorry for herself, with a lump of bark sticking into her rear, or she could stand up, dry her eyes and do something. Rosalind watched a beetle trying to drag a piece of twig around. What was the point of that? But it kept on going, poor beast, with a dogged determination that made her feel slightly ashamed. It may not have had much in its head, that beetle, but it knew what it wanted.

She stood up, dusted herself down and marched back into the camp.

*

Pamarchon was deep in conversation with Antros when his guest of the previous evening walked in. He smiled at the sight.

‘Would you mind waiting, my … boy? I will only be a very short while.’

‘I do mind waiting. In fact, I will not. I have something to say to you, and it will not wait. Please ask your friend to leave.’

Both men looked up in astonishment.

‘Now.’

Pamarchon opened his mouth to reply, then changed his mind. ‘Antros? Perhaps we can continue this later?’

Once the young lieutenant had left, Pamarchon eyed the unkempt, unwashed but determined-looking youth who stood before him. ‘You have your wish. Pray tell me how your sleep went? I hope it was kindly, and full of …’

‘Oh, do stop that nonsense. I slept perfectly well. Whether it was kind or not I could not say. I am here to talk about the one you call Lady Rosalind. Were you saying the truth last night, or was it just the sort of guff you people always seem to spout?’

‘Guff? Spout?’

‘Do you love her?’

‘As my life. Do not doubt me for an instant. I have never loved anyone or anything—’

‘Enough. I’m glad to hear it. I have an offer.’

‘Which is?’

‘You can have her.’

Pamarchon stared.

‘Lost for words, for once. I’m glad. By have, I mean to marry. To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for ever and ever. Worship her with your body, if you see what I mean. Are you interested?’

‘I … of course. It is more than my dreams—’

‘Leave the dreams out of it. Will you love and cherish, be faithful and all the rest? No doubts, hesitations or backsliding. No fancy stuff when no one is looking. Nights at the pub where you get carried away. No coming home drunk and bad-tempered.’

‘I don’t really know what you are talking about, but I will make her the happiest woman in the world.’

‘Even if she turned out to be penniless?’

‘Especially so. We would then be equal, she and I.’

‘Good answer.’

She smiled hesitantly at first, then more broadly.

‘I knew who you were, you know,’ he said.

‘I thought you did.’

Then he went down on his knees and took her hand in his.

‘Oh, that’s really nice,’ Rosalind said. ‘But do stand up. I’ll start blushing again.’

He did and they looked at each other nervously awhile, until Rosalind remembered why she had come.

‘That will have to wait,’ she said with renewed purpose. ‘Call Jay, if you please, and that servant of his. I want witnesses.’

‘What for?’

‘Do as you are told. Oh, and get that Antros chap back as well. He might as well hear this too. The more the merrier. Can I have this bit of bread? I’m starving.’

*

Within half an hour the area outside Pamarchon’s tent had four people sitting on the ground and one standing up in front of them. The seated ones were watchful, the one standing looked like someone having second thoughts about the wisdom of an undertaking begun in haste.

‘Right,’ Rosalind said, addressing the others. ‘This is the problem. Pamarchon here wants to marry me. It seems like a good idea if I am stuck here, but I don’t want to spend my life skulking in a forest. I will not marry a murderer, and he cannot marry someone properly if he is under the accusation of murder. It seems that either he or Catherine of Willdon murdered Thenald. Each believes the other to be the person at fault. Have I summarised the situation properly?’

Pamarchon nodded cautiously. The others did not move.

‘You all seem terribly keen on oaths and words of honour here. That’s why I want the audience. Pamarchon. Answer a few questions. Do you love me?’

‘You know I do. I love you like—’

‘Yes or no will do. If I ask a favour, will you grant it?’

‘Anything.’

‘If I ask you to protect someone with your life, will you do it?’

‘Anyone who is a friend of yours, I will gladly help.’

‘Look after them as well as you look after me?’

‘Yes,’ he said, a little impatiently now.

‘In that case, I want you to swear before everyone here that you will look after servant Kate. You will in no way molest her, harm her, or cause or allow anyone else to harm her. You will treat her as an honoured guest and protect her with your life.’

‘Very well,’ he said, puzzled.

‘You swear?’

‘Yes. I swear on all my ancestors and on the Story itself.’

‘That’s a good swear, is it?’

He smiled despite himself. ‘The strongest there is.’

‘Excellent. Now we will see how strong.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Stand up, please, Lady Catherine. Do we need more introductions?’

*

Pamarchon felt both humiliated and confused about what he should do next. Jay was terrified at the possible consequences. Catherine felt betrayed.

The only common point was that all were furious at Rosalind.

‘Stop!’ she shouted after a few minutes’ denunciation. She had heard enough. All this ‘false traitor’ nonsense. She wasn’t having it.

‘Stop it,’ she repeated. ‘Pamarchon. There she is. What are you going to do? Remember what you stand to lose.’

He stared at Lady Catherine with utter loathing, then spat out the words: ‘I protect you with my life and offer you the hospitality of my house.’

‘Bravo!’ Rosalind said. ‘That wasn’t so hard. Now then. This was getting too complicated, so I decided it was time to simplify things. I take it both of you insist you are innocent?’

‘I am,’ they both replied.

‘How do you know someone else didn’t kill him?’

‘Like who?’ Catherine asked disdainfully.

‘How should I know? You need a proper investigation and trial. Go through all the evidence, take statements, investigate the scene of the crime. That sort of thing.’

‘There’s been a trial already,’ she said.

‘You must have appeals. To see if it was done properly.’

‘No.’

‘There must be some way of deciding. Obviously you are not both guilty and you can’t both be Lord of Willdon.’

‘At the moment, neither of us is,’ Catherine said.

Rosalind glanced at her. ‘Why not?’

‘You don’t understand anything, do you? This is the period of Abasement. I am stripped of my rank for three days, then reinstated. That passed yesterday. There is now a vacancy, and the natural successor is Gontal unless I get back quickly. The thing Henary and I were trying to avoid when this man murdered his uncle has come to pass.’

‘I didn’t murder him,’ Pamarchon said, but everyone ignored him.

‘What thing?’

‘Anterwold is carefully balanced between the towns, the domains and the scholars, traders and farmers. None is powerful enough to dominate the others. But Gontal is heir to Willdon and head of the council of colleges. He will fuse the two together, and that will overwhelm the whole land. It is the disaster people have long feared. That’s why I needed to escape. It was another reason we moved so quickly when Thenald died.’

‘There you are!’ Rosalind said. ‘Prime suspect, if you ask me. Gontal would be the obvious person who stood to benefit from your husband’s death if Pamarchon was got out of the way.’

‘No one ever suspected Gontal. He is a scholar of the highest reputation.’

‘All the more reason. It’s always the unlikely ones. Trust me. How much time do you have?’

‘The vacancy would have been declared last night. I assume
it will take Gontal a few days to hear the news. He will hurry, though. There is no time for any nonsense like a trial. I have to leave immediately.’

‘Hospitality has its limits,’ Pamarchon said. ‘I cannot possibly allow you to return to power, even at the risk of Gontal taking over. At the moment we are equals. If you were reinstated, you would command any appeal.’

‘There must be some way of clearing this up fairly,’ Rosalind said.

‘Not unless one or the other of us confesses. Which I will not do,’ Pamarchon said.

‘Nor I,’ added Catherine.

‘Well,’ said Rosalind, ‘you’ll just have to sit and grouch at each other while your world goes up in flames, then. What?’

Jay was waving his hand nervously like a schoolboy in class.

‘Not now, Jay,’ Catherine said.

But Jay, evidently, had had enough of being ignored. ‘I want to say something. You’re all talking but going nowhere. None of you knows what to do.’

‘Do you?’

‘Yes. This bickering is a waste of time. Rosalind is right there, but she doesn’t know anything about us. She just dismisses everything and says it is all silly. It’s not. The Story provides everything we need, if we understand it properly.’

‘So how does it help here?’ asked Rosalind in a somewhat offended tone.

‘Esilio,’ Jay replied. ‘His shrine is in the woods near Willdon.’

‘I’ve seen it. So?’

‘I’ve studied it, in old parts of the Story that very few people know much about. There is one tale of two men with a dispute over a horse. They cannot agree, so they ask for the wisdom of Esilio to decide. They go to his shrine, and as they talk to the people, setting out their case, a wild horse wanders into the stone circle. They see it is a gift from the gods; both now have a horse, so there is nothing to argue about and the dispute is settled.’

‘I don’t see how that helps.’

‘It sets a precedent. It is set out in the Story. Anyone with a grievance not satisfied in any other way can appeal to his judgement. I do not know if it has ever been used.’

‘Not in my time,’ Catherine said, ‘but there is no reason it could not be, if the two sides agree.’

‘Then what?’ Rosalind asked. ‘You wait for some message from on high, or something?’

‘Each would make their case,’ Jay said. ‘Then the wisdom of Esilio offers a solution. That’s what the story says.’

‘You’re sure of that?’ Rosalind asked.

‘It would have to take the form of a disputation,’ Catherine said. ‘The wisdom would flow through the will of the audience.’