Woes and Hose Page 13

  Dick sighed. He didn’t want to listen to any religious drivel. It was the last thing he needed.

  “I asked Lady Enduria for a prayer service at the dinner tonight, to celebrate your glory in his name.”

  Dick looked carefully around a wall. Why not celebrate my glory in my name? Crispin noted his wariness, and moved forward, light-footed, nimble, and deadly.

  “My father got your request for provisions and he…”

  Dick phased out. He didn’t bother listening. He felt relieved when he reached the doors of his chamber. Finally, he would have some peace. And a talk with Crispin.

  “Later, my dear,” Dick said, forcing a smile onto his lips. Much, much later. Hopefully never. Amadea stepped back, looking ever so slightly dejected. Her entourage mimicked her expression, and Dick found himself reprimanded four times, not just once.

  But there was not time to focus on his wife’s pettiness. There was a bigger threat nearby.

  With cat-like precision, Lady Enduria stopped right at the invisible line between the corridor and his private rooms, almost as if she could sense his anxiety—and had decided to oblige him. Or maybe it was Amadea’s presence that restrained her.

  If so, praised be my little siege engine of a wife!

  Enduria’s gaze troubled him. Crispin was probably strong enough to fend her away, but what if he wasn’t around the next time she accosted him?

  “Arnie, take Mutt into the gardens.”

  “That won’t be necessary, Your Royal Highness. He no longer shits on… Oh, right away, My Lord.” The boy left the chamber.

  Dick shivered involuntarily. A steely, unwavering stare followed him as he paced around his chamber.

  “If there’s anything you need, Your Royal Highness,” Lady Enduria said.

  “Much obliged,” Dick muttered, waiting. “Thank you.”

  Reluctantly, she retreated.

  He sighed with relief as Crispin closed the door—for all her strength, the castellan probably couldn’t batter it down with her bare hands—and fell onto the soft, fragrant linens. Almost without thinking, he lifted his leg, and half a breath later, the boot was off.

  “Your other leg, Master.”

  “Did you lock the door?” Dick asked.

  “Yes, Master.”

  Dick smiled as he inhaled lavender and other fancy herbs that the castle laundrywomen used. A refreshing change after sweat and dung and musty tent cloth. The bed cover would have to be replaced later, as he was shedding road dust and horsehair onto the red cloth. He opened his eyes and saw the fourth rope hanging above the bed.

  He shuddered.

  “Crispin, tell me.”

  The manservant carefully put the boots down, mindful of the mud and dirt. Crispin winced when Dick tossed his gloves onto a pillow, but Dick pretended he hadn’t noticed. His loyal man deserved some slack.

  “I brought you a present for your birth day, Master.”

  Dick arched his brow.

  “Volkard recommended these.” Crispin tipped a silk satchel into his hand, and hard candy spilled into his palm. “These will make you—”

  “Crispin!”

  “There is much news, Master.” Crispin was enjoying himself.

  Dick propped himself on his elbows. “Crispin. Do you want me to clout you on the back of your head?”

  Crispin grinned. “No, Master.”

  “So, tell me what I want to hear.”

  “The lady you asked for is in the town, Master.” Wisely, Crispin didn’t mention Eva’s name.

  Crispin’s words should have calmed him down, but they had the opposite effect. Dick suddenly became nervous, anxious. The tingling sensation in his toes was bliss, but despite his exhaustion, Dick knew he couldn’t rest. He had to see Eva. He groaned and braced himself for the pain of tugging the boots back onto his swollen feet.

  I must see her. “Get me some fresh hose and doublet, and let’s go.”

  Crispin frowned. “Master? It would be more prudent to wait until after the festivities tonight, My Lord. You don’t want to attract any attention—”

  “Now!”

  “How about you bathe first, Master?” Crispin was relentless.

  Dick remembered the eightday upon eightday spent campaigning in Salabia and Korav. If he thought the rank stench of goat and unwashed armpits was pervasive, Eva would probably faint from the odor. He had her kidnapped—twice—the least he could do was make sure he didn’t stink when he came to see her.

  Dick paused. “You know, Crispin, you sometimes have rather brilliant ideas.”

  “Thank you, Master.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Monrich Pig

  “There are those who thrive on harmony, and those who feast on strife; I fear the latter, because the world has so little happiness but it has an endless supply of grief.”

  —GUSTAF THE CYNIC, BANISHED FROM WANHEBIA FOR HIS HATEFUL SPEECHES, CIRCA YEAR 570-606

  7th Day of the Month of the Linden

  Slap!

  “You swine!”

  Dick blinked, trying to banish the purple dots from his vision. The blow hurt. “This is not the kind of greeting I expected.”

  She raised her arm again.

  He caught her wrist. “That will not do.”

  “You are a filthy liar. Nothing more. Just like every other Monrich. A savage.”

  Dick stared at Eva. She was flushed, huffing, indignant, unafraid. He was excited. “I have spirited you away from the clutches of my dreadful father!”

  She sniffed. “And had me chained and led like a pack mule through wilderness for weeks.”

  Weeks? Oh, eightdays. Chained? Dick glanced toward the door. Crispin was lurking outside, most likely pretending not to listen with the most graceful display of feigned ignorance ever worn on a human face. “It was for your safety.”

  “My safety? I was safe in Enissia until you kidnapped me! I was safe from mercenaries and the Tufamid and your own father and every other scum. You broke every promise you made. You are a liar.”

  Dick bristled. “My father sees you only as leverage against your father. You are nothing but a noble hostage. He does not care who you are, as long as he can use you. I don’t want you to be my prisoner. I want you to…like me.”

  Eva snorted. “You are deluded.”

  “I never had a chance to prove myself to you.”

  “Let go off my arm.”

  Slowly, Dick released his grip. There were alternating red and white stripes from his fingers on her pale wrist. She lowered her hand, and he watched her carefully, bracing for a sudden lash.

  Eva sighed. “If you really want to prove yourself, just let me go.”

  Dick shook his head. “I cannot do that. You will never reach Enissia. You will be hunted like prey, and others won’t be as merciful as me. I have no intention of keeping you here against your wishes, but please, for your own sake, stay. Until you are convinced I am not your enemy.”

  “You will always be my enemy.”

  Dick huffed. “But I don’t want to be your enemy.”

  “If your father orders it, you will surrender me back to him again. You will break your promise.”

  “My father doesn’t know you’re here.”

  “And when he learns?”

  Dick shook his head. “No, I will not let him hold you hostage again.”

  Eva laughed. “The last time I saw you speaking to him, you looked like you were about to shit yourself.”

  Dick’s eyebrows shot up. Court life alongside Mina sure hasn’t improved her manners. “I have changed.” He preened. “I’m a hero now.”

  Eva snorted. “You?”

  Dick wanted to be angry, but he knew it would further erode the fragile relationship he had with Eva. At least she was willing to talk to him. It was when women ignored you that you were in real trouble. Anyway, that was what Volkard always said. For a man who had been stabbed with rusty scissors eighteen times and lived to tell the tale, Dick believed him.

  “
I have led my own army into war. I have defeated the Koravs. Me.”

  “Please hold me, I might swoon.”

  Almost instinctively, he tried to hug her. She batted his hands away. “You savage.”

  Dick stepped back. He desperately wanted her to like him. But she would probably never reconcile with the notion of being a secret consort to the future Monrich king. That meant he would need to get rid of Amadea, in a peaceful way that wouldn’t anger Duke Ettore but also not make him want to marry off Dolorea into the Drechtoter family instead. Amadea’s sister would need to be someone’s wife and with child before Dick could get rid of his own tubby spouse. He still hadn’t figured that part out yet.

  “Are you listening to me?” Eva snapped.

  Dick tried to recall what she had been saying. He couldn’t. He grinned sheepishly.

  “I asked, what is your brilliant plan, then?”

  Dick smacked his lips. “Ah. So, now that you’re with me here, I thought maybe you’d entertain the notion of—”

  She tried to slap him again, but he was ready for her, and dodged the blow.

  “Helping me! Look, you don’t want to be here. Neither do I. My damned father has forced me to take this wardenship and spend my coming years in this cold, miserable castle. I have an ugly wife with more mustache than Crispin, and the castellan is a baleful, crazy lady who invokes more fear with the staff than a whole tribe of Nurflanders. I don’t like the smell of cabbage, and all these ugly goat fuckers only make me hate this place even more. We are both prisoners, but I want to help you.”

  Eva narrowed her eyes.

  “You may hate me now, but you will realize I actually care for you. So much that I risked the wrath of the most dreaded ruler in the whole world, my own bloody father, to save you. Any day, he could have ordered your death, and he wouldn’t even blink seeing your head chopped off.”

  “You are a selfish, cowardly bastard, Dick,” Eva hissed.

  Dick clamped his teeth shut. He hadn’t imagined Eva being this unforgiving. He had expected her to be grateful for spiriting her away from Eisenstar. He hadn’t really thought she would hate him as much as she hated his father. That grated on his nerves.

  He tried conjuring his best injured face. “Do you want to go? Then go.”

  Eva didn’t move.

  “Well?”

  “I will need money and an armed escort to reach Enissia safely,” she whispered, looking wary.

  Dick swallowed. She was actually going to accept his offer, and he would need to think of a new plan to keep her in Ostfort. Break another promise. Sweet Saint, what did he have to do to make her like him?

  “It will take me a few days to arrange that,” he mumbled.

  She smiled sadly. “Such a liar.”

  “I cannot use my royal troops. Those would have to be hired swords.”

  Eva inclined her head, wondering if she should believe him. “Crispin will do. Apart from being forced to follow him, sleep in the open, and wear chains on my wrists and ankles for the better part of last month, I quite liked his company. Unlike you, he is friendly, charming, intriguing. He tells great stories and sings beautiful ballads. He is also not a coward.”

  “I’m not a coward!”

  “Then let me go. Prove that you’re more than a lying Monrich pig.”

  Dick fought his selfishness with every ounce of dignity he could muster. I can’t, I can’t. She must like me. Why doesn’t she like me? Then he remembered the look on Arnie’s face when he had told him he could apprentice with Crispin. The soldiers congratulating him after the Battle of Zgrob. The respect Reeve Gotelieb and Ritter Heimo had for him. The joy of the smallfolk earlier.

  Never before had he been liked for who he was, not what he was.

  I can be brave.

  I’m better than Old Fart.

  He deflated.

  He felt sad, but also resolved.

  “All right. You may go. I will instruct Crispin—”

  The noise made him pause. It was the kind of sound that instinctively drew your attention. Simple, primal, its intent unmistakable.

  The blare of battle trumpets.

  Eva seemed to notice he wasn’t just stalling. Her face mellowed. “What is wrong, Dick?”

  Dick realized he was holding a pistol in his hand. “I am not sure.” He slowly turned away from Eva and cracked the door open. Crispin was armed with a loaded pistol and a long knife, calm, resolved, alert. “Crispin?”

  “Some kind of trouble. Seems to be coming from the castle.”

  “Check it out.”

  As Crispin padded away, Dick closed the door again and glanced back at Eva. She was standing in the same spot, looking far less confident than earlier. Dick almost felt sympathy for her. She had gone through a lot in the last year. From being the daughter of a powerful ruler, living a happy, isolated life of opulence and safety in her sheltered city, to being trussed like a sack of clothes and led from one danger to another, never quite knowing whom to trust, never quite knowing if she may live to see the next day.

  Much like me. A victim of circumstance. All because of our fathers. We share a bond.

  “You will really let me go?” she whispered suddenly.

  Dick exhaled loudly. “Yes. I don’t want to see the hatred in your eyes every time we meet. It was a mistake taking you away, and a bigger mistake holding onto you all this time. I made you into a prisoner. Just promise you will not tell anyone. If they ask you, you cunningly made your own escape.”

  To his utter surprise, she nodded.

  This humility thing works. It is amazing.

  He still wasn’t sure if he believed himself, or if he was going to regret his state of mind the next morning, but for now, he really liked the soft, confusing look on Eva’s face.

  One thing was certain.

  Nothing was working according to his plan.

  I hate you, Father.

  Four quick knocks, pause, three quick knocks.

  With the pistol barrel in front of his nose, Dick pushed the door open. Crispin was standing there, looking about, breathing heavily. Which meant he had done a lot of running just then.

  As his self-amazement faded away, Dick realized there was still more noise coming from everywhere around. The unmistakable, industrious sound of panic. The bustle of feet, hushed voices, window shutters closing and door bars sliding into place, the cackle of nighttime crime coming awake with a gleeful sneer, smelling fresh blood and opportunity, all told of a city suddenly gripped in a terrible new reality.

  “Am I going to be upset?”

  “Yes, Master. Ostfort is being besieged, Master.”

  The first thought that assailed Dick’s mind was: Again! Then, a more sober one: “What? Who?”

  Crispin shrugged, but it was just the shoulder of his knife-wielding arm that went up. He had a pistol in the other hand, his grip steady. “Barvans. Nurflanders. Two armies approaching Ostfort, from north and east. Apparently, with most of the border troops stretched thin and the Drechknights embarked on your campaign in Korav, they were able to cross the borders and advance unnoticed. Scouts from Weltspaaz have just ridden into the city, and the enemy is hot on their heels. We have less than a day before the city is encircled.”

  We need to flee, Dick thought. Wait, I can’t. I’m the bloody warden. “How many?”

  “Too early to tell, Master. But dozens of tribes, it seems. And they have banded together. Might be some Hyevan mercenaries, too. The reports are conflicting. But if what the scouts report is true, they are making a mad dash for Ostfort. Light infantry and outriders mostly, for now, but they sure will bring in their siege weapons, too.”

  Dick’s mind exploded in a thousand vivid threads. So many possibilities, most of them leading him quietly out of the town. If only he had timed his return ever so slightly differently, he might have avoided this silly siege. Leave the messy war to people keen on bloodshed and glory.

  But he couldn’t.

  This time, Old Fart would not f
orgive him.

  There was no way Dick could not get entangled in this ugly affair.

  “I need to be back at the castle,” he said, mostly to himself. And not just for the festivities, which he doubted would happen now. No, they had to happen. He had to show everyone he was in charge. Confident, unafraid. He needed to learn more. He wanted someone to tell him this was just a silly mistake. He felt frustrated, outraged. Why did he have to carry all the world’s woes on his shoulders?

  Then, he realized he couldn’t really let Eva go. Not anymore. She would be in mortal danger outside the city walls now, guards or no guards.

  He was going to break another promise. Only for a change, he wouldn’t have to be a Monrich pig about it.

  CHAPTER 20

  Letters Home

  “Words are bridges, connecting worlds. Underneath, there’s a torrent of war. One wrong word, one wrong step, and you will be plunging to your death.”

  —VALTESE PROVERB

  18th Day of the Month of the Linden

  Mina stared.

  Ladies were not supposed to stare, it was a decidedly unladylike behavior. But she could not not stare. Didier had such mesmerizing eyebrows.

  Mina had never seen eyebrows so immaculate. Even her own, after hours of careful plucking and trimming, looked like a wild bush of thorns compared to Didier’s. She was still unsure what his role was in Quentin’s court. But he was always around, polite, courteous, and completely disinterested in her as a woman.

  “Milady stares,” Didier said, his accent slurred and soft.

  Mina frowned. “I’m sorry.” She was flustered. She owed him nothing. He was only a household servant—no, a spy, that was more like it—but somehow she felt like apologizing. There was something utterly charming about Didier, in a most unlikely of fashions. She didn’t find him attractive—neither did she really fancy her future husband that way, for that matter—just utterly fascinating.

  Must be the eyebrows.

  “Is milady excited about the High Summer festivities?”

  Back home, Father would be happy just to have Minstrel Furzen pluck his instrument and put everyone to sleep with his sad, slow singing. Quentin believed in extravagance, and Neuchtaffel sparkled with decorations—flowers, flags, and gilt-painted statues. Performers and actors from half a dozen kingdoms had arrived in the city, awaiting the celebration night. Rooftops and even chimneys had been furnished with tassels, so many that a few had caught fire. The whole place looked like a wedding cake with too much icing.