Once In a Blue Moon (24 page)

“Don’t,” said Peregrine, shuddering delicately. “The slaughter on the border is finally over. That’s all that matters. It’s time for the killing to stop. Whatever it takes.”

“Of course,” said Henry. “You lost people in the border wars. Friends, or family?”

“Both,” said Peregrine. “You?”

“Everyone lost someone,” said Henry.

The two men stood quietly together, remembering their time on the border. They’d both started out as soldiers, in the same troop, more years ago than either of them cared to remember. Full of hot blood and patriotic spirit, eager for the fray. The reality of war knocked all that nonsense out of them. They both fought well, and bravely, distinguishing themselves in some of the more prestigious battles against Redhart. They’d even fought in the particular engagement that produced the infamous Sombre Warrior. Though they never saw it happen, and only heard about it years afterwards. It just went to show how easily legends could be started, legends that the people involved knew nothing of.

The two men had never really liked each other all that much, but they’d always worked well together. Whether it was cutting down the enemy on a blood-soaked field or fighting for power afterwards, on the strength of the names they’d made for themselves. They’d quickly become leaders of their parties, at least to some degree because they never let dogma stand in the way of getting things done. While being very careful that no one ever found that out.

Both of them were prepared to do pretty much anything to push the Peace process through. They both knew war was unthinkable. Because the Forest Land would lose.

“So,” said Peregrine finally. “What pressure can we bring to bear on Prince Richard to make him more . . . compliant? I’m having to spend far too much time trying to bend him to my will when I should be concentrating on more important matters.”

“Could we perhaps make him think we don’t really want this marriage?” said Henry. “So he’d embrace it just to spite us?”

“No,” said Peregrine. “We could never sell that. He knows how much the agreement means to us. We’ll just have to stress Duty and Honour, and avoiding war at all costs.”

“We won’t have to push that one too hard,” said Henry. “Because it’s true.”

The First Minister sniffed loudly. “Richard’s problem is he’s still young enough to think that something will always turn up at the last moment to solve the problem and save the day. A nice thought to keep you from actually having to do something. Damn it, he’s always known he’d have to marry a foreign Princess someday. Does he have a girlfriend at present, anyone close who might complicate things? I’m a bit out of the loop on his private life, since I don’t read the scandal sheets. The wife loves them . . . Who was that pretty young thing that was just with him?”

“Just one of the Seneschal’s people,” said Henry. “No one important. There’s never been anyone serious in Richard’s life that I know of. Which is odd, for a man of his age. God knows we’ve all pushed suitable girls in his direction, at one time or another, carefully trained and instructed, in the hopes of influencing him on certain matters. But he always dodged.”

The First Minister looked at his colleague thoughtfully. “He’s not . . .”

“No, he’s not. We tried that,” said Henry. “He didn’t care for any of the handsome young men we pushed at him either. For a while there, he must have wondered why he was suddenly so very attractive to so many pretty young things.”

“There’s always his friends, Peter and Clarence,” said Peregrine. “Either of them might prove susceptible to the right . . . pressures. Worth checking out, I suppose.” He stopped and looked at Henry. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that Richard and Catherine might just . . . like each other?”

“Have you met the Princess Catherine?” Henry shuddered grimly. “I met her a few times when I was negotiating in Redhart. A real hellcat. Pretty enough, I suppose, but . . . I suppose we could always slip a love philtre in their food or drink or perhaps lay an enchantment on them? I do know a few people . . .”

“No,” the First Minister said immediately. “They both have major magical defences in place against any form of outside influence. And don’t ask me how I know that.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” said Henry.

“We’ll just have to keep piling on the pressure,” said Peregrine. “On father, and son.”

“Business as usual,” said Henry.

The two men smiled briefly at each other and spoke aloud the one thing they did both believe in. “To a Republic! As soon as humanly possible.”

•   •   •

M
uch later, in the early hours of the morning, Prince Richard lay fast asleep in his very comfortable goose-feather bed, dreaming that he could hear a beautiful female voice singing. He smiled in his sleep, so happy, so content, wrapped in the loving arms of that wonderful song. And then he snapped awake, sat bolt upright in bed, and realised he could still hear the song. He looked quickly about him. The candles he’d set out before he went to sleep, scattered all over the room, still had a few good inches of light left in them. He hadn’t been able to face the idea of sleeping in the dark, even in his familiar bed and room. He hadn’t liked giving in to his own weakness, didn’t like the idea that anything was in charge of him except him. But the Darkwood had laid its mark upon him, as it had with so many before.

He threw his blankets aside and swung out of bed, pulling his long white nightshirt about him as he yawned fiercely and then knuckled his eyes. He wasn’t really a morning person. The clock on his bedside table said almost five in the morning. Richard smiled. The sun would be up. That was something. He realised he could still hear the song, and moved quickly over to the window. He pushed the curtains aside and looked out. The early-morning light was grey and uncertain, with clouds of ground fog everywhere. Birds were singing the dawn chorus, in their usual brutal and uncaring way. He couldn’t see anyone about, but the song and the voice were still clear and distinct. He strained his ears, trying to make out the words, but all he could hear was . . . joy, happiness, and glory in the world.

Richard put on a long robe and went to his door. He’d locked it before he went to sleep, a thing he’d never done before. He unlocked the door carefully and stepped out into the corridor. Everything was very still, very quiet. And no sign anywhere of the two guards who should have been standing outside his door. Richard frowned, shut his door, and padded down the corridor on his bare feet. He passed from one hallway to another, and still there was no one about. As though he were walking through a dream of the Castle.

He finally came to a window in the outer wall, and looked out. Far below, he could just make out a female figure in a long blue dress dancing along the surface of the moat, tracing an elegant figure on the water, and singing a fine song. Her feet just touched the surface without sinking into the water. Ripples spread slowly out from every point of contact.

Richard watched wonderingly. Why couldn’t anyone else hear her? If he could hear her singing all the way up on the top floor, the whole Castle should be able to . . .

He descended quickly through the many corridors and galleries, heading determinedly for the ground floor. Down empty curving stairways, through vaulted hallways, with lamps and candles lit everywhere, though the early-morning light seemed to hang heavily on the still air. As though it were brittle with anticipation; as though it was waiting for something . . . And still there was no one about. No guards, no servants. Where the hell was everyone? Was he perhaps still back in his bed, still asleep? Still dreaming? No. The stone floors were profoundly cold and hard under his bare feet.

He went all the way down through the Castle and never saw a single human anywhere. He wondered in a vague sort of way why he wasn’t raising the alarm. Perhaps, he felt, more and more, that it was because all of this was meant just for him. He left the Castle through the main entrance and started across the open cobbled courtyard. Not even a snort or a whinny from the stables. He walked out across the drawbridge, which was lowered even though there was no one around who could have lowered it.
Magic,
he thought.
I’m moving through a magical world.
He’d dreamed of such a thing for most of his life but never expected to just wake up in it. It felt like someone had turned off the world, or plucked him out of it, or maybe even stopped Time, just for him.

And finally there she was, dancing along the moat towards him, her feet barely disturbing the surface of the water. And for the first time he realised her whole body was made up of water. That she was drawing and maintaining her form from the contents of the moat, endlessly replacing herself with every step she took. He knew who she was now, who she had to be. The very legendary Lady of the Lake. He knew all the songs and stories about her. She was almost as tall as the Prince himself, a good six feet, wild and willowy, clear as blue crystal, shining and shimmering in the grey light of the morning. A woman made entirely of water. He’d thought she was wearing a long blue dress, but as she drew nearer he could see that both it and her body were just water, totally fluid, running away and re-forming over and over, with great slow ripples moving through her, like tides. The long blue hair that fell to her shoulders was constantly running away, continually renewing itself. Beads of water ran steadily down her calm and noble face, like tears without end, dripping off her chin.

He knew the face. He’d seen it just a few hours before, in the portrait on the wall of King John’s returned room.

She had an unearthly, almost timeless beauty now, as though refined to perfection by some implacable scouring force. Blue face, blue eyes, blue lips. The Lady of the Lake, who was all the water of the Forest Land. An elemental power, and a force of Nature. She finally came to a halt before Richard and smiled warmly at him. More ripples spread across her face as she spoke to him, and her voice was like the gurgling of a rushing stream, given shape and meaning through human influence.

“Hello, Richard,” she said. “I’ve been waiting for you, for this moment, for more years than I care to remember.”

“Is this a dream?” said Richard.

“Of a sort. I live in dreams now. The dream of the Land . . . I have returned, Richard, after so many quiet years in the Forest, because I’m needed. Because the Forest needs me. Because the Demon Prince walks the Land again.”

“In the Darkwood?” said Richard.

“No,” said the Lady. “But you’ve been to the Darkwood, haven’t you? I can see its mark upon you, body and soul. My dear Richard . . . beware. Destiny has you in its grip.”

“Are you really everything they say you are?” said Richard. “Are you really my great-great-grandmother? The Queen Eleanor that was?”

“Don’t, dear,” said the Lady. “You’ll make me feel old. I was her, once. But I’m so much more now. You must prepare yourself, Richard.”

“For what? For war?”

“Worse than that,” said the Lady of the Lake. “I have no wisdom for you, no words of warning. Not even a weapon. I just wanted to see you, to have this quiet moment with you, my dear great-great-grandson. Because there won’t be time for quiet moments when it all goes wrong.”

She sank silently into the moat waters and was gone, leaving nothing behind but a single slowly spreading ripple on the surface of the water. Leaving Richard standing alone, in the grim grey morning light. He shivered once, not from the cold, pulled his robe tightly about him, and went back inside the Castle.

FOUR

FAMILY MATTERS

H
awk and Fisher and Chappie the dog were out on the dusty grey plain that surrounded the Millennium Oak again, taking a brisk walk in the brisk morning air, with the Administrator once more stumbling very unhappily along behind them. He’d been muttering under his breath for some time now, and none of the others felt inclined to inquire as to what he was saying. On such small compromises is civilisation built. The air was clear and fresh that early morning, the sky was a perfect blue, and everything was very peaceful. Until the Administrator decided he’d been civilised long enough and let them all have it.

“What the hell am I doing out here
again
, at this ungodly early hour? What is it this time? What do you need to tell me now that is so private and important and generally upsetting that I have to be dragged all the way out here, so that when you do upset me I can’t get my hands on anything heavy and sharp-edged? And why are you both wearing backpacks? Just how long is this walk going to take?” He stopped suddenly, as a thought hit him. “Are you trying to work up the courage to tell me that your replacements won’t be arriving in time after all?”

The others stopped, and looked back at him. They had covered quite a distance, though the Millennium Oak stood as tall and proud and overwhelmingly large on the horizon as ever.

“I’m afraid it’s just a bit worse than that,” Hawk said calmly. “And definitely not something for prying ears. Isobel and I have to leave. Right now.”

“That’s why the backpacks,” said Fisher. “We’ve a long way to go. We did try to strap one on Chappie, but he wasn’t having it.”

“Damn right,” said Chappie coldly. “I am not a pack mule.”

“Of course not,” said Hawk. “They’re useful.”

And then the three of them watched interestedly as the Administrator glared wildly at them, struck speechless with shock and fury. His face turned an unhealthy shade of purple, and his eyes actually bulged.

“The last time I saw him look like that,” said Fisher, “he’d accidentally walked in on a tantric sex final exam. They had to hose him down afterwards.”

“He isn’t going to have a coronary, is he?” growled the dog.

“Don’t be silly,” said Hawk. “You need to have a heart to have one of those.”

“I heard that!” said the Administrator immediately. His hands had clenched into fists. “You can’t just walk out on everybody! How is the Hawk and Fisher Memorial Academy supposed to function, without a Hawk and Fisher at the helm? It’s the start of a new term! You can’t just walk out on us before your replacements have even arrived!”