The Silver Bowl (16 page)

Chapter 32

A Stop Along the Way

IF YOU WISH TO KNOW
what goes on in the world, you have only to visit a tavern in the center of any town. If you happen to be in Westria and are interested in royal doings, you'll want to go to the Boar and Bristle.

For five days Lukas had been waiting there—drinking great bumpers of ale at the abbot's expense and listening in on others' conversations. Now he had much to tell.

It was common knowledge, he said, throughout Westria and beyond, that the prince had in fact not drowned. Now he intended to challenge Reynard for the throne, to which end he'd raised an army of supporters.

“And you'll never guess where they gathered!” Lukas widened his eyes and raised his brows to show his great amazement. “At our very own St. Bartholomew's Abbey! What do you think of that? But then, see”—he leaned forward now and gave us a knowing wink—“I'm thinking perhaps you knew sommat of this afore. And your visit to the castle, that was some sort of important, secret business. Ain't that so?”

“You may be right,” I said.

He beamed with satisfaction.

“They've left the abbey now, on their way here. And every village they pass, more people join 'em. 'Tis a ragtag army they say, nothing but farmers, and cobblers, and beggars, and such. A few small landholding gents.”

“He has some knights, surely,” Tobias said. “And gentlemen of high rank.”

“Oh, aye. But not so many as you could take a castle with. And speaking of that—Reynard's bringing in men by the score, and wagonloads of provisions. They're getting ready for a siege, they are.”

“We know that too,” I said. “Have you heard where Alaric is now?”

“A good day's ride from here. They move slow, what with so many; and they must provision 'em all.”

“Will you take us there?”

“Aye, if you want. But there's no need. Just wait right here, and he'll come to you.”

“We can't wait. We have news for the prince, and he'll want to hear it as soon as possible.”

“Then I'm off to the stables this very minute. You tell the waiter we'll need food for the road—bread, cheese, ale, and such. Then I'll pay the bill, and we'll be on our way.”

“Good,” I said. “Make haste.”

“Don't you worry, miss. Big doin's, ain't it?” And he hurried off, chuckling to himself.

Lukas drove the cart rather faster than was needful—
or comfortable, for that matter, after a night of battling curses. Tobias had been to see a barber-surgeon who
had stitched up his head proper and put a clean bandage on it. But Tobias said it still throbbed most awfully, especially when we hit a rut or a bump, which we did right often.

We were well away from the town now, at a point where the road skirted the king's hunting preserve. It was a pleasant spot, with the land sloping down toward the river on one side and the wooded park on the other, bare trees casting shadows on the new-fallen snow.

“Tobias,” I said, “are we anywhere near the place where Mary is buried?”

He turned to me, surprised. “Yes,” he said.

“Did you mark the grave? With a cross or a stone?”

“A stone.”

“Do you think you could find it again? Would you like to go there?”

“You can read my very thoughts.”

“It wasn't so hard, Tobias. Have we passed the place already?”

“No, it's a bit farther on. There was a farmhouse on the left side of the road. We cut off into the woods so as not to be seen. There was a big, old, gnarly tree. I'll know it when I see it.”

Not long after we came to the tree, and I called for Lukas to stop, saying he should rest the horses and have himself sommat to eat. We'd be back shortly. He raised his eyebrows and grinned. He thought we were off on more important business.

But then, that was true. We were.

Tobias made his way through the woods as though treading a well-remembered path. “There is the pine,” he said, pointing, “and the outcropping of granite. I picked a poor place to dig a grave.” He gave a snort of bitter laughter. “Rocks, nothing but rocks.”

“You were just a boy.”

“I was. But I thought myself a man.”

“Well, you cared for your family as a man would do. Better than most.”

A few more steps up the rising ground and Tobias stopped, and squatted, and swept the snow off a large stone. Then he cleared the area beside it and laid his hand upon the grave.

“This is the place,” he said.

“It's lovely, Tobias. Perfect.”

He nodded.

“Hello, Mary,” I said, touching the grave too. “I'm Molly. Tobias tells me you're fond of kissing elbows.”

Tobias closed his eyes.

Too much,
I thought.
Best not to say any more.
I got up and wandered away, looking around me at the silent woods. It was indeed a fine place to bury a child. There would be friendly forest creatures about—birds, deer, chipmunks, foxes, squirrels. They would keep her company through the long days. And in the wintertime, like now, when the leaves had all fallen from the trees, she could look up at night and see the stars.

An idea came to me then, and I began to search for a branch that was straight and strong. I snapped one off a tree and carried it back to the grave. Tobias looked up and smiled; his face was wet with tears.

“May I give her a gift?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Of course. Why not?”

I wiped more snow away until I found a rock of such a size as would fit neatly in my hand. Then just behind Mary's gravestone I hammered the stick into the ground. It took a while; the earth was winter-hard. But the branch had a point to it where I'd broken it off the tree, and it bit into the soil. I gathered a few more stones and piled them around the base of the stick to make sure it stayed in place.

Tobias watched me curiously.

“Are you making a cross?” he finally asked.

“No,” I said. Then I pulled the ribbons out of my apron pocket. “They're a bit rumpled and not so clean as they were when first you gave them to me, but I think she'll like them all the same.”

I tied the ribbons to the top of the stick, with a knot in the middle of each, the four tails hanging down.

“It's as merry as a Maypole,” Tobias said.

“Yes, that's what I thought. In the summer the breezes will blow them very charmingly; and that will delight her, don't you think?”

“Oh, it will. I'm sure of it.”

“And it's a gift from both of us, so she'll like it all the more.”

“You're a good soul, Molly,” he said.

We both wept a little, there in the woods. Then we followed our tracks back to the road, and Lukas, and the cart.

Chapter 33

The Encampment

IT WAS LATE BY THE TIME
we reached the encampment.

For miles we kept thinking we were almost there, for all about us were the prince's followers—gathered around campfires, huddling under makeshift tents. They lined the road and spread out onto the frozen fields on either side.

“There are so many,” Tobias said.

“Aye,” Lukas grumbled. “An army of unwashed peasants. Good for nothing but to slow him down.”

I suspected that was true. But all the same it tugged at my heart, the love these people felt for their prince, that they would leave the grim comfort of their homes in wintertime to follow him and fight for him however they could.

The moon was high above the hills by the time we reached the edge of the encampment. The road was guarded by a handful of gangly boys, knights in training most like. They called us to halt and asked what our business was—had we come to join the prince as the others had? For if so, there was no room in the village.

“We're here on important business,” Lukas said pompously. “This here cart, I'll have you know, belongs to the Abbot Elias. And I am in his employ.”

“The abbot is housed just a ways down the road. Third cottage on your left. But it's full. You cannot stay there.”

“So you say. But we ain't here to see the abbot just now. We've come special to speak with the prince himself.”

“That is not possible,” said the boy.

“Well now, see, I think it is. Because these two young people here”—he pointed in our direction—“have only just returned from a secret mission.”

“Lukas!” Tobias said, then to the boy, “Just tell us where the prince is staying, and we'll speak to his bodyguards ourselves. Let them decide if we may see him or no.”

“As you will. He's in the largest cottage, just round the bend on your right. But he won't see you.”

The cottage was well guarded, by real soldiers. No beardless boys this time.

“Who goes there?” one of them wanted to know.

“Friends of the prince,” I said, “and I assure you he will be glad to hear the news we bring.”

There was mocking laughter. “I'm sure of it,” someone said.

“Ask him, then, will he see Molly and Tobias? If you send us away and he finds out, I promise you shall regret it.”

The guard stepped forward and squinted at me, the corners of his mouth curling up a little. He didn't know what to make of us.

“What have you come about?”

“Alaric's business, which he sent us on.”

The guard stepped away and conferred with the others in whispered voices. They were quite understandably reluctant to bother the prince at such an hour. And we didn't look like the sort of people who would be sent on an important mission. Still—what if we really did carry important news?

Finally one of them knocked three times, then opened the door and went in.

“You wait right where you are,” another guard said. “Don't you move or we shall have to—”

Just then the door was opened by Alaric himself.

“Molly! Tobias! Come in and tell me all. Aren't you cold? Oh, it's such a night! Come in, come in!”

The soldiers stepped aside. I wrinkled my nose at them as we passed by.

Alaric sat us down, then picked up a pitcher of ale. He carried it over to the fire, pulled a poker out of the coals, and plunged it hissing into the brew. Then he came back and poured us each a cup of warm ale. It was village made, no better than Margaret's, yet he offered it with a smile and even took some himself.

“So, you lived to tell the tale,” he said. His eyes were bright with feverish excitement. “Oh, I rejoice at it, truly. Roger!” he called to his valet. “Run tell the kitchen girl to cook us up some sausages. We'll have some bread and mustard to go with it. Say she's to bring it out herself, if she would.”

Then he turned back to us and flashed another dazzling smile—all eagerness, and satisfaction, and isn't-it-fine-to-be-me? Truly, it was something to behold. He shimmered like the very sun.

“You seem well, my lord,” said Tobias, stating the obvious. “And we likewise rejoice—”

“Yes,” he said, and the sun disappeared behind a cloud. “But I believe you have something to tell me. I would hear it now.”

“My lord,” I said, “you may be at peace. The bowl can do no more harm.”

“It is destroyed, then?”

“No, sire. It's as perfect and beautiful as ever it was. But the evil that lived in its heart is gone. When you get to the castle, you can do with it as you will.”

He looked at me and then at Tobias, his expression very grave. “You've been injured,” he said, touching his own head in the spot where Tobias wore his bandage. Then to me: “You're wounded, too.”

“There was a bit of a scuffle,” I said. “We'll mend.”

“A bit of a scuffle, eh? I begin to think there is nothing you cannot manage, little Molly.”

“I hardly think that is true.”

“Well, I say it is. Must you always contradict me? Can you not just say ‘thank you?'”

We were both of us grinning.

“Thank you, my lord.”

Tobias took a drink of ale and gazed down at his knees. Finally he cleared his throat and said, “There is something else you must know, Your Majesty. It's very important.”

“Tell me, then.”

“It's not Reynard who is your enemy.”

“But surely—”

“It's Gertrude, sire.”

“Gertrude? You are speaking of my aunt? She's an old woman.”

“Yes, my lord. Molly, tell him.”

“Well, sire, long ago when she was about my age, her father was without a son to inherit the throne.”

“I know all this.”

“But that was the source of her grievance, you see—that she could not be the heir, though she was the king's only child, just because she was a girl. Then, of course, she was married off to the crown prince of Austlind—”

“Osgood, yes, I know. And when Mortimer finally despaired of a son, he offered the throne to Osgood
,
only to withdraw the offer altogether after my father was born. It was clumsy, and I do not doubt that it stung, for Gertrude is proud. But it's the common way of things. Thrones pass from father to son.”

“That may be, lord prince, yet Gertrude
did
resent it, and she
was
angry—enough to cast a malediction on her own family.”

“You're telling me that she went to the silversmith and asked him to make her a bowl that would curse the newborn prince?”

“No. She couldn't do it herself. But she had a noble servant who had come with her from Westria. He loved her very much and believed her cause was righteous. He gave her his pledge to do whatever she asked of him. It was he who commissioned the bowl, my lord—and murdered the silversmith, too.”

“Your grandfather.”

“Yes.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Some of it I saw in a vision. Thomas told me the rest.”

“Thomas? The keeper of the silver?”

“Yes, my lord. He was the noble servant.”

“No! I cannot believe it.”

“Nor could I. But he murdered your family, Alaric. And he wished you dead as well. He told me so just before he tried to kill me.”

I nodded at Tobias. He pulled out the prince's dagger and laid it on the table. Alaric took it up and studied it for a time, turning it in his hands, running his finger along the flat of the blade.

“Where did you get this?” he said. “I never thought to see it again.”

“Thomas had it. He held it to my throat.” I pulled down the top of my bodice, just enough to show him the gash.

“He did that?”

“Yes. But he's dead now.”

“You killed him?”

“No. But I watched him die.”

Alaric sighed. His mind was already moving on to something else. “How am I to challenge a frail old woman who was sister to my own father?”

“I cannot say, my lord. It's a bit of a problem, all right.”

He slid down in his chair, his hands draped at his side, legs akimbo, and stared up at the ceiling.

“I think you must go through Reynard,” Tobias suggested. But the rest of what he said I did not hear, for my attention strayed elsewhere. The prince had not changed from his traveling clothes, you see. He still had on his boots and his hooded cape, which was fastened at the neck with—

“My lord!” I cried, interrupting Tobias. “Your brooch! Had you another one just like it or—?”

He looked at me and smiled, just as gaily as before. Then he turned and roared toward the back of the house: “Where
is
that kitchen wench?”

He was so changeful this night—bright, then dark, from one moment to the next. You never knew which Alaric it was going to be.

“Sausages just ready now” came a voice from the next room. “Here we are, milord, with a nice hunk of bread, like you asked for, and a wee pot of mus—” She spied us then, and screamed, and nearly dropped the tray. “Molls! Oh, my sainted eyeballs!”

I gasped, and Tobias gaped, and Alaric howled with laughter.

“Winifred!” I cried. “I cannot believe it. How came you to be here?”

“Oh, oh, oh!” she moaned, patting her bosom and breathing hard, trying to recover from the surprise. “Well, I did manage to find me a place in the house of a nobleman in our parts. And then he was called up by the prince. And so I went to him, secretlike, and told him what we had done to save Alaric from the wolves, you know, and how my mother had been his wisewoman and all. I begged leave to come join the prince, and he allowed it. I brought his brooch back,” she added with pride, “which we'd been keeping safe for him. And don't he look fine now, all mended and walking around like a normal person?”

We agreed he most definitely did.

“All right. That's enough, ladies.” Alaric was all business again. “You may chatter all you like in the morning. But now we must finish our talk. It's late, and I've been traveling all day. Winifred, thank you for the sausages. I'll call you to come for the tray as soon as we're done.”

She gave us a wink, then curtsied, and backed out of the room.

The prince cut a slice of the dark village bread and slathered it with mustard. Then he speared a sausage with his knife, and wrapped the bread around it, and took a hearty bite. We watched him chew, then swallow.

“Go ahead,” he urged between bites, “try a sausage. They're surprisingly edible.”

I grinned. “You've developed a taste for peasant fare?”

“Not in the least. But I've had little else since I left the castle, and one . . . accommodates, does one not?”

I supposed one did, if one knew what a
ccommodate
meant. As I did not, I merely shrugged. “Now,” he said. “What more have you to tell?”

“Only that Reynard is preparing for a siege,” Tobias said. “But I suspect you know that already.”

“Yes. Everyone knows it.”

“Then there's nothing more, really. I think we ought to go and leave you to your rest.”

“No, stay a moment longer. Roger, run over to Brother Eutropious. If he's asleep, wake him up. Ask if he has space for my two friends here. Say I wish him to tend to their wounds as tenderly as he once did to mine.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Brother Eutropious!” Tobias said as soon as Roger was gone. “He is with you also? Is all the world here?”

“It does seem that way, does it not? Yes, Eutropious
would
come,
would
not be dissuaded, for he trusts no one else to look after my shoulder, though truly it is almost healed. Now before you go, there is something I seem to have forgotten.”

“What is that?” I asked.

“I have not thanked you yet.” He wiped mustard off his hands and cheeks with a linen napkin, then laid it on the table and addressed us in earnest. “And I cannot do it handsomely enough. For the curse that has plagued my family since the time of my father's birth and robbed me most cruelly of my parents, and my brothers, and my poor, dear sister shall cast its shadow over me no longer.”

His voice broke as he said it, and he turned his head aside, as there were tears welling in his eyes and he probably thought it unmanly to weep. When he had mastered himself, he went on.

“I need no longer fear for myself, nor for any sons and daughters God may grant me in the future. My destiny rests in my own hands now, as it should—all because of you.”

“It was an honor,” I said.

“I know you haven't told me everything, how you risked your lives in that ‘bit of a scuffle.' It seems there is no end to what you are willing to do in my service, and in the service of the kingdom. I also understand that you did not do it for gain, but as soon as I am able—if I am able—I shall reward you as richly as you deserve. You shall have land, and wealth, and titles, and anything else you should desire.”

I watched him closely as he said all this and saw a new expression on his face, a different kind of smile than I had seen before. There was real affection in that grin, such as you might show to an equal, to a friend, to someone you deeply cared for. And I felt my heart swell with love for him. Oh, he would make such a fine king! A fire was burning inside of him now, a passion and a purpose. In just a few months he had grown from a boy to a man—and he looked to be a great one, too. Like the thousands of humble folk camped all round the village that frosty night, I would gladly have followed him anywhere.

Alaric reached out and offered a hand to each
of us.

“I have one more favor to ask. I wish you to ride at my side tomorrow. You are my good-luck charm, Molly. No harm can ever come to me when you are near.”

“Oh, my lord,” I said. “I would be most honored to do it, but I never sat upon a horse in my life. I fear I would fall off and be trampled. At the very least I would cause your knights to laugh themselves into convulsions.”