Chapter 22

The Price Of Love

When Magnes returned to Amsara late that afternoon, he headed straight up to his rooms and locked himself in. The servant Conrad knocked shortly after nightfall. When Magnes opened the door, he gasped in dismay and said, “Young Master, what’re ye doin’ standin’ here in the dark for?”

Magnes shrugged listlessly in response.

“Well, can I at least come in an’ light a lamp or two?”

Magnes shook his head. “Just bring me a couple of flagons of wine…The Rhandon should do. It’s good and strong.”

Conrad’s eyes flashed with worry. “Yes, sir. Straightaway,” he said and left to do as he was bid. Magnes waited in the dark, slumped in a chair, eyes tightly shut.

The servant returned quickly with the wine, a tankard, and a small tray of cold meat and bread. Magnes took the wine and told the man to return the food to the kitchen. He closed the door in the bewildered Conrad’s face and returned to his chair by the open window.

The moon hung low in the sky, a tiny sliver of silver, barely visible above the castle roofs. Magnes didn’t bother to fill the tankard and drank directly from the flagon instead. The wine, dark and strong, soon took hold, and the unbearable pain that gnawed at his insides quieted down to a dull ache. He drank up the first flagon quickly and then started on the second, sipping until he felt completely numb. After a time, he slept.

The discomfort of a full bladder woke him several hours later. Staggering to the bedchamber, he groped beneath the bed until his fingers snagged the chamberpot. With a sigh, he relieved himself, then wobbled back into the outer chamber to retrieve the wine flagon. With almost no light to see by, virtually blind and still drunk, he blundered into the heavy armchair and crashed to the floor.

Cursing softly, he hoisted himself back up into the chair and sat quietly for a moment until the pain of his cracked shin subsided. When he could breathe again, he groped for the unfinished flagon on the table to his right and managed to grasp it without knocking it over. He shook it gently, and the sloshing sound told him he had enough wine left to sustain his drunken state for the rest of the night. He raised the flagon to his lips and swallowed deeply, then passed out.

He awoke the next morning with a vicious headache and no memory of having fallen asleep again. The empty wine flagon lay on the floor at his feet, a small red blotch staining the carpet beneath its lip.

A soft knock at the door brought Magnes unsteadily to his feet. He swayed a little and sat back down as his stomach threatened to rebel. He breathed deeply for several heartbeats until the wave of nausea passed, then once again tried to stand. This time, he met with success and made it to the door without falling.

“You look like hell!” Thessalina exclaimed. Magnes waved her in and closed the door. “Conrad was worried about you. He asked me to look in on you this morning, and I can see that he was right to worry.” She sat down in the window seat with her back to the morning sun. “Magnes, talk to me. All I know is what Father has told me, but I want to hear it from you. Is it true that you took Jelena to the Western Lands so that she could get away from Duke Sebastianus?”

“It’s true,” Magnes answered. His tongue had grown fur overnight and seemed to be twice as thick as it ought.

Thessalina shook her head incredulously. “But why would you risk so much for her? She was getting a very good deal. She wasn’t worth shaming Father and running out on your own obligations, Brother.”

“Please, Thess. I…I’m just not up to this conversation right now. Leave me be.” He pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead and closed his eyes.

Thessalina clicked her tongue in dismay. “You’re hung over. I’ve never…I’ve never even seen you drunk before! What’s going on, Magnes? I know you. This is notabout Jelena…Tell me what’s wrong with you!”

Magnes sighed deeply. Like a terrier with a rat, Thessalina had him cornered, and she was not about to let him go until she had shaken every last detail out of him. “Livie’s gone,” he said. “She married a farmer from Greenwood. I’ve lost her for good.”

“I’m so sorry, Brother,” Thessalina murmured. “I know you loved her.”

“It wasn’t enough.”

“What will you do now?”

“Gods, Thessalina! I don’t know. I can’t…no, I won’t marry that stupid creature Father has chosen for me. I’ll renounce all claims to the ducal coronet and take priestly vows before I let him force me into such an intolerable match.”

“That’s foolishness, Magnes. You know you can’t just put aside your inheritance.”

The alcoholic fog dampening Magnes’s brain suddenly burned away in the light of revelation. He abruptly sat up and leaned forward. “I can, and I will. I never wanted the position anyway.” He stared into his sister’s eyes, trying to gauge her reaction to his words. She seemed genuinely shocked. “Don’t pretend that you’re surprised, Sister. You and I both know that you should be Father’s Heir, not me. The only reason you aren’t is because you had the misfortune of being born second in a land where the firstborn inherits everything. Never mind talent or temperament! It’s only fitting that I should step aside. If I openly declare my intention to take priestly vows, Father can’t stop me. He’ll have to make you the Heir.”

Thessalina stared, mouth agape in astonishment, unable to speak.

“Where is Ghost?” Magnes abruptly asked. Thessalina blinked rapidly, and he could see her mind start to shift and turn. She now realized the implications of his words, and they pleased her.

“Ghost… Where is he?” Magnes repeated.

Thessalina refocused. “He was an old dog. He died while you were gone. Don’t worry. I saw to it that he got a decent burial. I had him put under the old chestnut tree in the back garden—the one we used to climb as children.”

Magnes closed his eyes again and leaned back into his chair. He resolved to go say goodbye to Ghost, just as soon as he could stand without retching.

“Would you have someone bring me some willow bark tea, please,” he whispered, massaging his temple in a vain attempt to stop the hammer blows inside his skull.

“I’d think long and hard about all of this, Brother,” Thessalina suggested, but Magnes thought he detected an undercurrent of eagerness in her voice. He could not fault his sister for her ambition. They both wanted the same thing.

He felt, rather than saw, Thessalina leave the room. A strange lassitude gripped him, and he allowed it to carry him under. He stirred long enough to notice that a steaming mug of willow bark tea had appeared as if by magic on the table by his right hand. He drank it slowly, thankful that someone had thought to sweeten it. When he finished, he heaved himself up out of the chair, made his way to the bedchamber, and collapsed across the quilt, surrendering to sleep.

~~~

Duke Teodorus’s ice-chip eyes narrowed when Magnes entered the study. The duke sat at his desk, a small oil lamp illuminating the stack of reports before him. Outside, the castle bell chimed out the hour of Nonis, the last before midnight.

“Details, so many details,” the duke muttered. He picked up a large piece of vellum affixed with an ornate seal and waved it at Magnes. “Y’see this? Came today from the capital, signed by Empress Constantia’s own hand. It says I’m to prepare and send a report with all speed detailing the strength and readiness of my forces. Bah! We’re not anywhere close to being ready for a war, but it seems that the empress is growing impatient. She wants the armies of the Imperium to be ready to march against the elves in fourteen months time—less, if possible! Wishful thinking, I say. Lucky for us, though, you’ve seen the inside of that elf castle. I’ve no doubt the empress’ll want me to secure it early on, since Amsara lies so close.”

“Father, there are things I need to discuss with you,” Magnes said quietly.

“And I with you, Son. I have written to Leonus to tell him that our contract can go ahead as planned. With the gods’ luck and a little good timing, you should have Leonus’s daughter wedded, bedded, and pregnant by fall’s end.”

“That is what I need to talk about, Father. I don’t want to marry that girl.”

“What you want doesn’t matter,” the duke sniffed. “You’ll do as you’re told. This isn’t up for negotiation.”

Magnes pulled his hair in frustration. He could feel the pressure building within him, threatening to boil over in an explosion of fury. “Father, listen to me!” he cried. “I will notmarry Duke Leonus’s daughter!”

“I strongly advise you notto defy me,” the duke growled dangerously.

The dam within him burst and swept Magnes along on the crest of the wave. “I will abdicate my position and take priestly vows if you insist on this marriage! We all know Thessalina should be your Heir, anyway. Give it to her, Father. It’s what we both want. Set me free, I beg of you!” he cried.

Without warning, the duke rose from his chair and rushed Magnes, pinning him against the wall by the fireplace. Magnes gasped in surprise, alarmed at how easily his father could hold him.  “Please, Father,” he croaked.

“Shut up!I know what this is all about. Don’t think I don’t know about you and my game warden’s daughter. Who d’you think had the little whore packed off to Greenwood in the first place, eh?”

A red fog shrouded his brain, and Magnes howled.

The next few moments rushed by in a blur of fists, and screams, and the sound of things breaking, and excruciating pain, and still more screaming, and blood.

Blood!

Blood on my hands!

The red fog lifted, and Magnes looked down into the blank eyes of his father.

“Father?” he whispered.

The duke did not answer.

Magnes raised his dripping hands to his face and moaned in horror. He staggered to his feet and stumbled backward, away from the hearth upon which the duke lay, his broken skull resting in a rapidly spreading puddle of gore. A gobbet of hair, skin, and blood dangled from the sharp stone corner of the mantelpiece.

A loud crash exploded behind him. Magnes whirled around to see a chambermaid standing at the partly open door of the study. A heavy tray lay at the girl’s feet, shards of crockery and food splattered in a heap upon the carpet. Face white with shock, she pressed her hands to her mouth and stared, first at the duke’s lifeless body, then at Magnes.

Magnes nearly choked on the bile rising in his throat. Pointing at the corpse, he croaked, “My father must have fallen and hit his head…We were arguing…Oh, gods!”

The maid’s eyes widened with fear. Her mouth worked, but no words came out.

“It was an accident,” Magnes whispered plaintively. “I didn’t mean…”

Oh, gods, I didn’t mean to kill him! Did I?

A wave of weakness threatened to topple him. His muscles began to twitch uncontrollably as his mind succumbed to panic.

I’ve got to get away, run away, they’ll think I murdered him, I’ll hang!

It was an accident! Someone please believe me!

The maid opened her mouth and screamed.

Magnes bolted past her and ran, fleeing up towards his apartments, the girl’s shrieks feeding his own terror.

Back in his chambers, he stopped just long enough to scoop up his hunting knife and a small pouch of coins he kept beneath his mattress. From his window, he could hear shouts. The maid’s screams had been heard.

Got to leave now, or they’ll catch me!

Cautiously, he opened the outer door of his chambers and paused to listen. He heard the sound of many feet pounding up the stairs toward his father’s study. A heartbeat later, the hoarse shouts of men crying out in dismay, followed by the piteous weeping of the maid sent him stumbling out into the darkened corridor. He turned and rushed away from the main staircase to a smaller, back stairway that led down to a side door in the outer wall of the keep. Under the cover of darkness, he slipped out of the keep and quickly made his way to the stables.

Inside the barn, the soft snores of horses at rest filled the warm air. Silently, Magnes glided down the rows until he reached the stall of his favorite mount. Storm greeted him with a sleepy whicker, and Magnes stroked the horse’s velvet nose. Briefly, he pressed his face to the warm skin, then reluctantly moved on to the next stall. He would have to leave Storm behind yet again. He knew that, eventually, he would have to sell whatever horse he rode out on tonight, so Storm must stay at Amsara.

Magnes had never ridden Storm’s neighbor, an unassuming piebald gelding. The horse was small, but looked sturdy enough; in any event, he would have to do. Magnes went to the tack room to fetch a saddle and bridle, and soon had the beast ready.

As he led the horse cautiously out of the stall, a childish voice broke the relative quiet. “Oi! Who goes there? What are you doin’?”

Gods, Dari!

“Hush, Dari!” Magnes hissed. “It’s me, Lord Magnes!”

Dari appeared at Magnes’s side, carrying a stub of candle. He held it up, and in the flickering light, Magnes could see the look of puzzlement on the boy’s freckled face. “Lord Magnes, sir. I didn’t know t’was you. I was just on me way to the privies. If you don’t mind me wonderin’, sir, but it seems awfully late t’ be goin’ out.”

“Please, Dari. Listen very carefully. You can’t tell anyone you saw me.”

“But why?”

“Don’t ask me any questions! I need to go now.” Magnes immediately regretted the sharpness of his response. “I’m sorry, Dari, but I must go.”

The boy let out a startled cry. “M’lord! You…ye’ve got blood all over yer shirt, sir! Wha’ happened? Are ye hurt?”

“Remember what I said to you,” Magnes repeated fiercely. The young groom nodded slowly, wide-eyed with bewilderment. Magnes snatched a spare saddle cloth down from the stall railing and draped it over his shoulders; a poor attempt at hiding the incriminating bloodstains, but he could think of nothing else. He clicked his tongue and the horse followed him out into the yard. He checked the saddle girth and mounted, but before he could turn the horse toward the gate, Dari reached up and put his hand on the rein.

“Lord Magnes, will I ever see you again?” The boy gazed up at him, a sad, knowing look in his eyes.

“Dari…” Magnes’s voice caught, and he had to pause in order to keep from sobbing. “I don’t know. I’ll pray to the gods, that I might return home someday. You’re a good boy, Dari. I’m sorry you got involved.” He looked toward the keep and muttered, “It was an accident.”

From the direction of the keep, faint shouts drifted on the night breeze.

“What was, Lord Magnes?” Dari whispered. “What accident?”

Magnes did not answer. He shook the reins and tapped the gelding’s flanks with his heels. The muffled clop-clop of the horse’s hooves on the hard packed earth beat in counterpoint to his pounding heart. He looked back once to see Dari standing motionless, his face eerily lit from below by the candle stub in his hand.

“Evening, milord,” the guardsman said in greeting as Magnes rode up to the outer gate.

“Goin’ out so late, sir?” his fellow guardsman inquired.

Magnes had to think fast. He put on a sheepish grin. “Um, well, yes. You see, there’s this girl who lives out on the Greenwood Road and, well, her father…”

Both guards guffawed. “Say no more, milord. We get yer meanin’!” the first guard said in a cheerfully conspiratorial tone. His eyes flicked to the saddle cloth over Magnes’s shoulders, and his brow furrowed in puzzlement, but he made no comment.

“Aye, that we do,” the second added. “We was both young and unmarried once!” The men scrambled to open the gate, just wide enough for Magnes to ride through.

“Will ye be back before or after sunrise, sir?”

“After, most definitely,” Magnes replied. He could hear the guards snickering as the gate swung shut.

The night engulfed him, warm and very dark. He had only the light of the stars to see by. Once again, Magnes found himself leaving Amsara in the dead of night with virtually nothing, except that this time, he was the fugitive. The horse proved to be sure-footed and steady as they wound their way down the steep switchbacks and into Amsara village.

Just as he had two days ago, he took the track that skirted the village and ended up on the road that led past the homestead of Livie’s parents, the road that would eventually take him all the way to Darguinia, city of the Emperors. A man could lose himself among the multitudes there, shed an old identity, and invent a new one.

All around him, the darkness hummed, alive with the sounds of a late summer country night. A soft breeze tickled the nape of his neck, still wet with the sweat of shock and fear. Loneliness, dense and heavy, settled over him.

He burst into tears and wailed like a child.