Trapped, page 36
part #3 of Treason and Truth Series
“No, sir, I won’t that.”
“Then you had better go before I decide to take your name and inform the Keeper. I presume you still want your job.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
When the boy had gone, Tancred raised an amused eyebrow at Selth. “An interesting interlude to my morning.”
“Should you have let him go?”
“What can he report but that I went to see the Keeper and then came here? There is nothing nefarious or unusual in that. He is harmless. I am intrigued by his actions though. It seems that someone is trying to discredit me. Now, I have been informed that you have not been well recently. Is this correct?”
“Yes, sir, but I’m fine.”
Tancred eyed him. “I hope so. If you are unwell, you must tell me. I am sure I could manage for a few days without your excellent help, invaluable though you are. How is your family?”
“Mary’s the same as ever. The youngsters are tripping me up but our eldest seems to be doing well. You were right to persuade him to train.”
Tancred smiled. “I did nothing, Selth. Peter is bright; I am glad his studies are progressing. I had better see what you have kindly put on my desk.”
It was lunchtime before he left his office and caught Selth unawares. The scribe appeared dazed and distant.
“Selth, go home. Take a week off.”
“No, sir, I’ll be fine. I can’t afford to take the time off.”
Tancred shook his head. “If that is what concerns you, be easy; after so long you deserve some paid leave. You are not well. Go home and let your wife take care of you. I shall find another scribe for the meantime. There must be one I can borrow. They will not be your replacement. I do not count illness as incompetence, you should know that.”
Selth got up. “Thank you, sir.”
Tancred watched him leave and locked his office behind him before calling once more on the Keeper who provided him with the name of a scribe he could use during Selth’s incapacitation. He went in search of lunch, pondering on all the morning’s happenings. What he had told Selth was true: he was not worried about the runner. He was unsurprised by such tactics. There would be many people interested in his movements. He merely hoped it was the future they were concerned with, not the past.
Chapter 56
WRITING ON THE WALL
Cisadai, Week 23 – 16th Seral, 9th Seris 1212
Ceardlann
THREE WEEKS LATER, Cal tried to focus his wandering thoughts, tried to concentrate. A letter shouldn’t be haphazard, it should be ordered and logical moving seamlessly from one subject to another. The aromas of home stole into his senses, kitchen herbs, vegetable soup, tallow candles burnt down. The racket of his siblings arguing, the jangle of the shop bell and the thud of cloth being moved around rang in his ears. He reached out, as though he could see and touch everything that was familiar in the memories. Sick and dizzy; he grasped at the edge of the desk, anchoring himself to reality, but the churning sensation didn’t leave him all day.
The following morning, he picked up his pen again to write to his siblings. Was that Louisa’s laughter? Was Hal sulking and Crispin hiding? The room blurred around him; dizzy, he laid his pen down. It would pass. He poured himself a glass of water and watched the herb garden, trying to convince himself it was nothing to worry anyone else over; they’d laugh at him; he’d be bothering them unnecessarily. Wouldn’t he? Eventually, he went to find Maria.
“Can I… can I talk to you privately, please, Maria?” (She closed the door with an encouraging smile.) “I… I keep feeling dizzy and distant.”
“Well, you’re growing it might be that when you stand up…”
“It’s when I’m sitting down, mostly, and it’s not the sort of dizzy you get when you stand up too quickly.”
“Right… I think it might be an idea to talk to Doctor Chapa then. It’s a bit outside my expertise, but I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”
“I feel a fool,” admitted Cal.
“Don’t. Everyone gets ill at some point and if nothing else, he can explain what you’re likely to feel as you grow up and eliminate those aspects as normal. Shall I ask him to come?”
“I don’t know him.”
“Does anyone? He’s very… caring. Eccentric but caring. He was Queen Eliza’s cousin, so he’s got good reasons for seeing the FitzAlcis and their friends stay alive. More than most doctors would have. If you’re worried about what His Highness will say, I’ll ask Doctor Chapa to give him a check over for excess of mischief at the same time.”
Cal smiled. “I hope there’s no cure for that. Thank you.”
“Not at all. Now, I think there’s just one thing left to do…” She pulled him into a hug before saying, “Go on with you. Get some fresh air.”
* * *
The following day, Chapa entered Ceardlann and grinned at the footman who greeted him. “Where’s Maria, Joe?”
“She’s up in the nursery, sir. Is there anything I can do?”
“I’d hope quite a lot, but there’s nothing for me. Thank you.” He made his way up to the Princes’ sitting room.
Cal glanced over as the door opened and frowned, momentarily puzzled, before enquiring, “Are you Doctor Chapa, sir?”
“So I’ve been led to believe. I take it you are Master Calumiel Galdwin?”
“Yes, doc… Doctor. Sorry, sir.”
“Doc is fine, lad. I prefer it. Maria told me you’ve not been feeling your best.”
Cal swallowed. “I’m having dizzy spells but it’s when I’m sitting down and they’re getting more frequent.”
Chapa sat opposite him. “Are you doing anything in particular when these attacks happen?”
“Normally I’m writing letters.”
“All right. Watch my finger… Hmm. Look at me directly… Well, I can’t see anything wrong with your eyes. How often do you write letters?”
“Every day, sir. I like to write home…”
“I can imagine. Do you get homesick?”
“Occasionally, doc… I shouldn’t but I do, I think. Or, at least, I wish I could see my parents more… What’s the matter with me?”
“You know how to unsettle a doctor, don’t you?” replied Chapa. “Well, it’s not your eyes, I rather think it’s psychological and I don’t mean that you’re imagining it. I think, when you concentrate on what you miss, your mind over reacts and blurs your vision. Might I recommend you write every other day for a time and see if that helps? If it doesn’t, we’ll start looking at much more mundane matters like your diet… That, however, would be tedious for a growing lad with mischief still to do.”
Cal nodded. “Yes, it would. Thank you…”
The door opened and Tain entered. Doctor Chapa rose and bowed with an overstated emphasis.
“Doc! What are you doing here?”
“Right now, talking to Your Highness.” Chapa chuckled at Tain’s unamused face. “Introducing myself to Master Calumiel, but I came to see Maria.”
Tain paused. “She’s not unwell, is she?”
“Not that I’m aware of, sir. I think she might have thought the time was right for me to explain some of the facts of life to you both.”
Tain squirmed. “We’re not naïve.”
“No, but myths abound. Then there are other facts; for example, despite my best efforts, I failed to find a cure for mischief.”
“You’d be one of its first victims, according to father.”
“His Majesty must never be doubted. Will you excuse me if I find Maria?”
Tain nodded and when the door had closed said to Cal, “So you’ve finally told Maria you’re not well?”
Cal swallowed. “Your Highness?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, cut out the honorifics once and for all! I’m sick of hearing you use them. You’re living here with us and this isn’t Oedran.”
Cal eyed him uncertainly. “It’s only words, Tain, not a comment on friendship, I thought. It’s like another name, I suppose, and… well… you’re still… that is…”
“Do you think there are not enough people reminding me I’m different? Can’t you treat me normally?”
“That’s it though, isn’t it? I am treating you normally, if normality is set by the majority.”
“Then treat me differently! I don’t care, just stop using honorifics. I can’t stand them.”
A voice behind them said, “Like them or not, Your Highness, you should get used to them. They exist as a mark of respect, sir.”
Tain turned. “I know why they exist, Advisor; that’s not my argument with Cal and I suppose that’s also a point, it’s my argument. Were you here for a reason?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Tain knew the tone had been wrong. He watched the Advisor’s face. “I’m sorry, Advisor Spellen, that was very rude of me. I apologise.”
Spellen hesitated; he hadn’t expected an apology. “Thank you, sir; you had every right to be annoyed. I was obviously getting involved in personal matters that I shouldn’t have been. I simply came to make sure Your Highness wasn’t having difficulty with work that Judge Tancred has asked of you.”
“I’ve not had any problems yet, Advisor, thank you,” replied Tain.
Spellen bowed and left.
Cal and Tain eyed each other.
Tain grinned. “I’ve not had any problems because I’ve not done any of it. I suppose we’d better make a start.”
Cal smiled. “Probably, but why break the habit of a lifetime?”
“I’ve got better…”
“I meant me, sir… Tain.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry I got so wound up.”
“Yes, so am I.” Cal laughed. “Oh, what does it matter? Come on, sooner we’ve finished the better.”
Tain nodded. “So, did you tell Maria you weren’t feeling well?”
“I… Yes. I didn’t think you knew.”
“I didn’t for sure. What did the doc say?”
“Just that I should give writing letters a miss occasionally. I keep getting dizzy, you see. Well, I get dizzy when I’m writing home. It’ll clear itself.”
“Hopefully, otherwise you’ll be going round and round in circles. Mind you, I think you do anyway.”
“I follow your example. What are you meant to be reading?”
“Some minor laws and theories relating to thievery. I’m getting quite fed up of the minor laws, if the truth’s told.”
Cal grinned. “I thought telling the truth was the point of law.”
“If only. It seems to hang together on what’s not told.”
Half an hour later, Doctor Chapa re-entered the sitting room to find both boys had disappeared. He went to find someone else to annoy until they reappeared. A minute later, Cook was waving a spoon at him.
* * *
When he returned to Oedran later that day, Chapa made his ambling way to the Inner Office. Richardson didn’t try to stop him from entering, and the King greeted him with a quiet smile.
“All well, doc?”
“Mostly, sir. Prince Tain’s a bundle of energy again. Lady Elantha’s wry humour is becoming endearing. Young Calumiel, though, is getting dizzy spells. I’m not sure why, so I’ll do some reading, but he says he’s writing to his family daily. I wondered if a few days at home might help him.”
Adeone considered. “I can’t see why not. The Mundimri seems like a good time. He can come home for a couple of weeks and Tain can come and stay in Oedran and have a few more lessons at the Courthouse. I’ll ask El if she’d prefer peace or to stay with her cousins.”
“I’m sure His Highness won’t know how to thank you, Sire.”
Chapter 57
EMRYS
Tretaldai, Week 23 – 17th Seral, 10th Seris 1212
Oedran – Carnford Gate
LORD EMRYS DAIOCH rode through the gates of Oedran and asked the way to Landis House.
“Why’d you want to know, lad?” enquired the yeoman.
“Because he’s my uncle.”
“Ah. Right you are. Can’t be too careful. Go along The Strait. First major turning on the left is the Maclan. You won’t miss Landis House on your left. Big wrought iron gates, normally standing open.”
Emrys rode along The Strait. Oedran’s stone-built grandeur was a contrast to his home province where stone could not exist. The weight of it pressed on him. The noise of wheels and hooves clattering on stone was alien and strange, clanging in his consciousness with brutal suddenness. Even the sound of metal was foreign to him. The Low Plains’ earth would swallow any metal, dragging it down from one’s hand with a weight far beyond typical endurance. Only the strong could carry metal there, but here everyone held metal in their hand, or on their waist, in their clothing or on their shoes.
Normal city odours, the bouquets of decay and decomposition, passed him by. They were no different from the scents of Eyllyn. The vying scents of empire foods, which spoke of home to some, turned his stomach.
The yeoman had been right. He couldn’t miss Landis House. On a street of bow fronted shops that opened directly onto the pavement, the gates standing wide leading to a house set back from the road were noticeable. Had his mother really grown up here? In this city chaos. Were these streets her memory? He tried to imagine her here. She’d spoken of Oedran but in a way that was hard to reconcile with the assault on his senses.
He rode towards the house. A groom, who’d been standing near the front door, ran forward but not before he’d jangled the bell.
Emrys dismounted. “Is Lord Landis at home?”
The groom could only nod before Landis was striding out of the house. “I certainly am, Emrys. Come in and we can greet each other properly.”
Emrys shared features with his uncle, but Landis was far more laid-back than he expected. “Sir.”
Landis laughed. “You can cut that out today. I’m Uncle Festus to you.”
A female voice said, “His Majesty has other names for you, father.”
“Julia, was that really necessary?”
Emrys took in the hourglass figure of his cousin. She was watching him with bright eyes, unconcerned by the reprimand. She had the same eye shape as his mother, but with a more mischievous glint.
“Probably not, father. Cousin Emrys, come on in. I’m Julia. Julius is probably avoiding lectures…”
Landis sighed. “He better not be. Emrys, have I said welcome to Oedran?”
Emrys chuckled. “No, uncle, but then mother did warn me it might take you some time.”
Landis put his arm around his nephew as he led him inside. “Yes, well, your mother and I have many similarities that we won’t go into. Come and get refreshed whilst everyone sorts out your things. Are you ready for the mad house that we live in?”
“I’m sure it can’t be worse than home, Uncle Festus, not with father being Deputy Governor.”
Julia grinned. “Father’s important as well. I’m not sure anyone’s told Uncle Adeone though.”
Landis said, “Letting you spend time with Lady Rhian and Lady Amara was a foolish idea. Haven’t you got an embroidery lesson or something?”
“Why needle fabric? Sorry, father, I’m going, I’m going. Come and find us later, Emrys.”
Emrys followed his uncle to the study. He understood it was new, had listened as his mother read out his uncle’s letters following the fire, but it felt well used. There was a fire chasing away the chills of approaching winter. An embroidered fire screen was set to one side. He idly wondered who had stitched it. The geometric shapes were very different from the other more fluid carvings in the room.
Landis saw him looking. “Your mother’s work. She hated it. I’ve always loved the simplicity of it. She took to embroidery far more diligently than your Cousin Julia.”
Emrys didn’t know what to say to that.
Landis saw it and ruffled his hair. “You’ve got both your parents in your features and, I rather suspect, in your personality as well. How are they?”
“Very well, uncle. They’ve both written long letters for you and Aunt Cornelia. They’re in my luggage. I’ll find them, eventually. Father’s busy. Mother’s, well, mother. I don’t think she wanted me to come to Oedran, though she’d never say it.”
“I wish she’d visit, but there’re many reasons why she hasn’t.”
Emrys asked, “Is it true that she wanted to marry His Majesty?”
“How do you know that?”
“Conversations carry. I didn’t mean to overhear.”
They exchanged a glance. Emrys realised that his uncle wasn’t quite as carefree as he portrayed.
“I suppose you’ll have to know; people at Court may remember. Your mother and His Majesty were roughly of an age. Closer than I am to him anyway. When His Majesty and I became acquainted, he spent time here and obviously came to know Nia well. When she started attending Court there was speculation that they might marry. Your mother came to half believe it, but His Majesty married our cousin Ira. That’s all there is to it.”
“So, he effectively jilted her?”
Landis shook his head and his answer was emphatic. “No. There had been no formal agreement, no understanding either. Your mother was upset for many months but, whatever anyone else has it, it was His Majesty who coaxed her back to Court, where she knew your father and they fell for each other.”
Emrys absorbed the family history. His mother’s broken heart was something he wished she’d told him about.
Landis continued. “The King’s expressed a wish to meet you early in your stay.”
“Father said I wasn’t to be surprised if he didn’t.”
“Contrary to popular scepticism, His Majesty has many calls on his time.”
“Then I shouldn’t add to them…” said Emrys uncertainly.
“Emrys, most of the Oedranian Court think you are a minor provincial lord with little standing, but you’re my nephew and the son of a deputy governor. Whatever the Court supposes, you do have status, and I am going to make damned sure they recognise it. His Majesty wants to meet you, and, busy or not, you will be presented to him the first time you’re at Court together.”
