Tyrant’s Blood

‘Kilt,’ Leo spluttered. ‘Freath is a snake. No, he’s less. He’s vermin. And he’ll be up to something, mark my words. The man betrayed my parents. I watched him. I heard him. He laughed at both of their grisly deaths. He helped Loethar keep my brother on a leash, in a dirty shirt that carried the blood of my father. He would give you up to Loethar without a second’s hesitation.’

‘Which is why he won’t get the chance,’ Faris said jauntily.

‘Kilt, don’t. He’s not someone to allow into your life. He cannot be trusted, I tell you. I’ll kill him as soon as I see him.’

Faris looked pained by the younger man’s bravado. ‘Who said anything about trust? I want to know what his game is. If he’s up to something—or if Loethar is, and I know the emperor wants my head staring sightlessly from a spike at Brighthelm—then it’s in my interest to find out everything I can.’

‘It’s a trap, I tell you,’ Leo said vehemently.

Ciara returned. ‘Fresh dinch,’ she said, laying down the pot and mug. ‘You’ve got enough honey, I see,’ she said, opening the pot on the table but looking at Leo.

Kilt grinned. ‘Yes, I’m sweet enough, but this young man here needs something to wipe that scowl from his face. Can I offer you a silver piece to add some sugar in his life?’

Leo’s elbow slipped off the table in shock.

Ciara gave Kilt a puzzled smile. ‘Your young friend thinks you’re staining my honour.’

‘I apologise without reservation,’ Kilt replied, lifting his pot of strong but milky dinch.

Ciara turned to Leo. ‘What’s your name?’ she asked.

‘Er, Liam,’ he replied, sitting up straighter.

‘Well, Liam, I shall see you this evening at the bordello.’

The king nodded.

‘And you, Henk?’ she said to Kilt.

‘Ah, Ciara. I have a woman in my life now, and she would cut off my bordellos and feed them to me if she thought I was taking my pleasures with you.’

Jewd nodded. ‘That she would. But I’m free, Ciara. Is that lovely buxom Jenny still working?’

‘She is. I’ll tell her you may stop by.’ And with that she left them to it.

‘Henk?’ Leo repeated, reaching over and stealing the mug of dinch that his friend was about to pick up and savour.

‘Hey! Oh, that’s just not fair,’ Kilt grumbled. ‘Go and pay, Jewd. I’m heading off. I promised Lily some supplies.’

‘She’ll certainly have those “bordellos” off in a blink if you let her down,’ Leo said between gulps.

They all stood.

‘Get word through the right channels,’ Faris said to his longtime friend. ‘I’ll see Freath. Let’s find out exactly what he’s up to, shall we?’

Leo scowled as Jewd nodded. The big man handed Leo the single crutch. ‘Hope that wound won’t slow you up tonight.’

The grimace left the younger man’s face, replaced by a smile. ‘Not a chance,’ Leo said, limping to catch up with Faris. ‘It will take more than a barbarian arrow-wound to keep me from Ciara.’

Faris had left Jewd and Leo to their pleasures, and was watching Lily pack up the stores they’d bought. He had never been happier and Jewd assured him frequently that this was due entirely to Lily’s presence. Faris had dismissed the comment but now he wondered if there was something to it after all. Up until Lily, the only person he’d permitted intimacy with his thoughts was Jewd. No girl had ever come between them and Lily was secure enough emotionally to see that no girl should. She hadn’t once created any bad feeling between the two great companions and, above and beyond that, she had been a blessing in terms of playing a big sister role to the young king over the years since his arrival into the camp.

Faris watched as Lily worked, seemingly oblivious of his scrutiny. He liked watching her move; loved the way she’d flick back her hair when it fell forward, how in that second he’d catch a glimpse of her lovely long neck. He wanted to kiss it now. In fact, he would. Getting up from his seat by the window of the inn, he walked over, put his arms around her waist from behind and kissed the exact spot on her neck he’d been watching. He snuggled into its warmth; could feel her pulse against his lips.

She laughed and squirmed. ‘I’m busy, Kilt.’

‘Never too busy for me, I hope?’ he asked.

Lily turned in his arms. ‘No, never.’ She kissed him tenderly and it turned into a long, passionate embrace. When they parted, she looked breathless. ‘What was that about?’

‘Am I not allowed to show my love?’

‘Your love?’ She looked surprised by his use of the word, but quickly collected herself. She kissed him once again, softly and swiftly. ‘Don’t ever hesitate. It’s just not like you to be so demonstrative.’

He sighed and let her go. He sat himself down on the bed. ‘I’m very aware that you’re one woman among a group of men. I don’t want to rub it in that you’re all mine.’

It was her turn to sigh. ‘Well, I want you to rub it in. I’d quite enjoy the attention.’

‘Oh?’ It was Kilt’s turn to look surprised. ‘Do you feel ignored?’

She stared at him with a scornful expression. ‘Kilt, how could I? You spend so much time with me, and you share your innermost thoughts with me to the point where I want to cover my ears and yell, “no more!”.’

His gaze narrowed. ‘Less of the sarcasm, please. We were enjoying a nice moment.’

‘We could enjoy so many more if you’d only let me in.’ Lily turned away and continued carefully packing goods into sacks and saddlebags. She inhaled a bunch of fleshy leaves. ‘Ah, I love the smell of fresh borrega. We’ll have some deliciously flavoured stews through Leaf-fall as this dries.’

Kilt wasn’t ready to let their discussion go. ‘Let you in? Where?’

Now she looked at him with exasperation, before moving across to where he sat. Tapping his head, she said, ‘In here, you fool. That is the place I want to be permitted to glimpse.’

Ignoring her plea, he pulled her small, voluptuous body closer. ‘Well, I know where I want to be in,’ he said, his tone lascivious now.

She pushed away gently, slightly wearily. ‘I’m busy and you’re not taking me seriously.’

‘I am,’ he replied, his own exasperation matching hers. ‘Now come here, one of your bodice’s strings has loosened. I’ll tighten it,’ he offered, the tone in his voice and glint in his eye suggesting otherwise.

Lily deliberately moved further from him. ‘Besides, it’s not worth trying to be serious when you’re in this mood.’

‘What mood?’

‘The one that is hoping for a tumble in the bed without talking.’

‘Oh, Lily, isn’t that what every man is hoping for?’ he asked, frustration spilling over. ‘You’re ruining what could have been some precious time alone together.’

She didn’t answer him; she gave him an arch glance instead as she packed away some threads and new needles, ticking them off her list.

‘What do you want from me?’ he asked, feeling injured.

‘Is that a genuine question?’ she commented, looking up from her list.

‘Of course it is.’

‘Because I’m not sure you want the honest answer.’ Lily’s hands were on her hips now, the list momentarily forgotten.

‘Don’t I?’

‘No. Because honesty would require you to confront who you are, Kilt Faris. I’ve been with you for a decade now. I’ve healed your aches and stitched your wounds, I’ve washed your clothes and cooked for you. I’ve been your loyal companion and I’ve made love to you throughout that time and never tired of you. I’ve—’

‘You’re a perfect woman, Lily.’ He cut across her words with a triumphant grin.

She looked sadly back at him. ‘Everything’s a jest to you, Kilt.’ She turned away. ‘Even us.’

‘That’s not true,’ he said, scrambling forward across the bed. ‘Don’t be like this, Lily. I really don’t know how to make you happy. Frankly, I didn’t know you were unhappy.’

‘I’m not,’ she said, returning to her packing.

‘You sound it.’

‘No, I’m disappointed, that’s all. I feel as though I’m always on the outside, Kilt. You only let me get so close and then you seem to draw curtains around yourself.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘You have secrets. They shut me out.’

‘Me?’ he asked, sounding astonished. ‘No! How can you accuse me of that after so long together?’

‘You’re lying. There’s something restless inside you that only you control, only you know about, only you glimpse. I can only get so far with you and it’s because of that invisible line you’ve drawn around yourself that I know you can never fully love me the way I want to be loved. You take me and my affections for granted, Kilt. And the saddest part is, I’m a little trapped by how much you all need me. I’m not being a martyr, I’m simply stating a fact.’

He stared at her, genuinely hurt. ‘How can you say that?’

She looked back at him, sad and resigned. ‘When did you last tell me you loved me?’

‘A moment ago, I think!’

‘Did you? Did you actually come in here with the full intention of looking into my eyes and telling me you love me? No. You came in here to enjoy some lovemaking. I don’t mean to complain, Kilt. But the fact is, you don’t show you love me, and never, not once have you ever uttered the words, I love you, Lily.’ She held up her hand. ‘I know what you’re going to say. The thing is you probably do love me in your own curious way. You are good to me and you keep me safe and you’ve been a strong figurehead for Leo. I’ve been a part of your life over these years, and that has been wonderful. But—’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t know what else to do for you. I share every ounce of myself physically and emotionally. You don’t or perhaps can’t reciprocate in the same manner.’

Kilt looked pained. He sighed. ‘But how do you know you love me? You’ve hardly lived, Lily. You could meet any handsome fellow tomorrow and fall head over heels.’

‘Don’t turn this on me. I’m not looking for anyone else and I’d love to know how you imagine someone handsome and available is going to stumble across me when I choose to spend my life in the forest with you. I only come into town twice an anni! Besides, we’re talking about you and how you treat me. And by the way, your suggestion is ridiculous.’

‘Don’t be angry,’ he said, reaching for her. ‘I’m so sorry, Lily. Truly, I am.’

She allowed him to draw her into his arms, relaxing into them, and he could tell she didn’t want to prolong this conversation. ‘I’m not angry.’ Her expression became more wistful. ‘I suppose I am as happy as you permit, Kilt.’ Her careful words were not lost on him.

‘How can I make this better between us?’

‘Let down your guard with me. I’m hardly a stranger and I would never do anything to hurt you or be disloyal to you.’ She stroked his hair, touching the first silvering at his temple. ‘Our relationship is a decade old, or do you forget?’

He shook his head and kissed her softly. ‘No, you’ve saved me a fortune in brothel fees.’

Lily’s eyes widened in horror and she mock-swiped at him. ‘That is really going to cost you, Master Faris!’

He laughed, inwardly sighing with relief that she was keen to lighten the moment. He hugged her more tightly, knowing something profound needed to be said now to secure her faith in him. ‘I’ll have to marry you soon, Lily.’

That caught her attention. She didn’t speak immediately, but stared at him silently, searching his eyes. ‘Do you mean that?’ she said, her eyes glistening, her voice soft, unsure.

‘I’ve never meant anything more deeply. We’re as good as husband and wife now. Let’s make it official as soon as we can.’

Lily embraced him tightly. ‘You don’t have to do this.’

He laughed, twirled her around. ‘This is going to make all the boys happy.’

‘Are you sure? Jewd won’t mind?’

He made a dismissive gesture.‘He told me only last moon that if I didn’t hurry up, he’d ask you and steal you from beneath my nose.’

She smiled. ‘Well, it’s tempting. I’m sure Jewd shares more with me than you ever could!’ She didn’t say it unkindly, though. Then she laughed. ‘And Leo? You think he’ll be happy?’

‘Don’t be vain. Leo got over you years ago.’

‘Says the great father figure!’

‘Well, in a way that’s been my role.’

‘You could have fooled me,’ she said but her voice was light.

Kilt frowned. ‘What makes you say that?’

She smiled, and again it was gentle. ‘Kilt,’ she began, her voice affectionate, ‘you have left all the rearing to myself and Jewd. I’ve played the maternal role and Jewd has been at his side in everything. I’m sure I’m not being unkind when I say that if you do see yourself as a father figure, then you’ve been the most remote father I can imagine. Surely you can’t deny that you keep him at arm’s length?’ She frowned. ‘I don’t mean that unkindly either, my love. I understand that being a kingmaker is hard enough without playing father to him. In fact, I’ve told Leo time and again that it’s not that you don’t like him, but that you have to keep a distance in order to keep what we’re trying to achieve in perspective. He knows that you will likely have to make hard decisions and they can’t be clouded by your affection for him.’

‘He thinks I don’t like him?’

‘He used to. But he’s older now.’ She shrugged. ‘He accepts that this is how you are with him.’

‘And how am I with him?’

She regarded him quizzically now. ‘Distant is how I’d describe it. I’ve watched you. You never sit near him. You certainly never touch him. You always cast off duties that might involve Leo to Jewd. You disappear for long periods when all of us are together. And it’s got worse, rather than better. You spent more time with him as a youngster but you seem to have pulled back as he’s grown and matured. Leo is perceptive, Kilt. Surely you can see how he might interpret this as a lack of love?’

Kilt felt sick, and angry with himself. ‘I’ve just spent the last couple of hours with Leo,’ he bleated. ‘I can’t believe—’

‘Yes, I know you have. But this is how you behave. You go for weeks avoiding any sort of close contact and then, whoosh!’ she said, making a sweep of her hand. ‘You do something like this morning, as though you’ve come out of some stupor or you can bear to be near him for a short burst. Then you’re gone again.’

‘I wanted to see you,’ he explained, sounding injured, but his mind was racing across all of Lily’s observations. He hadn’t realised it was so obvious.

‘I know you did, and I’m glad you came to see me,’ she said, kissing him gently. ‘But once again you’ve left Leo with Jewd.’

‘Not exactly. As we stand here I suspect he is getting a taste of all that he’s been missing.’

She caught on immediately. ‘Oh, Kilt, not The Velvet Curtain?’

‘It’s part of his education. We’ve been raising a sovereign, my love. He has to experience all that we can give him and The Velvet Curtain is integral to growing up. It’s a rite of passage for all the young men in my band.’

‘Led loudly by yourself and Jewd, no doubt.’

‘Not anymore. I am a one-woman man. So let me prove it. I’ll buy a ring next time we’re in town, I promise, and I will talk to the preacher about a wedding in the next few moons.’

Lily gave a soft squeal of delight before adding: ‘I can’t believe the lengths I’ll go to in order to get a new dress!’

Faris grinned, taking pleasure in Lily’s obvious joy. Lily asked so little of him and yet had brought so much to the outlaws. It was true that he’d taken her support and constant presence for granted. ‘You may have whatever you want, my love. But there is a favour I need.’

‘Oh?’

He nodded. ‘A man called Freath will be making contact soon. He’s from the palace.’

‘Freath? Why do I know that name?’

‘He’s the one Leo has declared his favourite enemy alongside you-know-who.’

Comprehension spread across Lily’s face. ‘Of course, the treacherous manservant.’

Faris nodded. ‘The very one.’

‘And he’s contacted you?’ she asked, incredulous.

Faris hesitated. ‘Not directly. But in a roundabout way he has. It’s certainly me he’s after but he’s being deliberately coy, as if protecting me. It doesn’t add up. I want to know what he knows.’

‘Isn’t that dangerous?’

‘Not if I take the right precautions—and you know me.’

‘This isn’t just a chance for you to wear one of my skirts, is it?’

‘Lily, how unkind,’ he said, feigning indignation. ‘No,’ he began again, turning more serious. ‘There’s more to this than meets the eye. Freath is coming to me and he’s coming with stealth and care, it seems. He’s found me in the same way that if I wanted to find me I would. Does that make sense?’

‘You mean, he’s not screaming your name from the rooftops.’

‘Yes. Word has got through he is bringing only a small party. He plans to slip his soldier escort.’

‘All right, so how does this involve me?’

‘He has a companion. Just keep an eye on him for me, that’s all.’

‘One of the men can’t?’

‘You’re far less obvious. I don’t want you to do anything dangerous; I just want Freath alone and feeling vulnerable. I have no intention of talking to him in front of his companion.’

‘How far do I take my spying duties?’

Faris shrugged. ‘Well, don’t sleep with him, my love,’ he laughed, avoiding her determined slap, ‘but stick close enough.’

‘Don’t let him out of my sight, you mean.’

‘Exactly. We are going to separate them somehow and I want someone inconspicuous watching the friend to know if there is anything sinister about Freath’s intentions.’

She sighed. ‘Fine. When?’

‘In the next couple of days. Now, forget that packing. Let me show you how much I care about you.’ He arched an eyebrow.

Lily fell back into his arms and they toppled together onto the bed. Faris tried desperately to lose himself in their affections but at the back of his mind his demon, his ever-present companion, began to gnaw more urgently. He was shocked by Lily’s observation; the fact that Leo had noticed as well meant that Jewd had long been aware of the deliberate distance Kilt had created between himself and the king. Jewd was too shrewd to make his queries as pointed as Lily; no, his friend would watch and make up his own mind. Kilt would have to be very, very careful from here on. He’d given his word to Brennus and would not break it, but in order to keep it he was going to have to exercise still more control while making a greater effort to close that gap between himself and Leo.

3

On the other side of the realm, in a sparsely populated hamlet not far from Minton Woodlet, a dark-eyed youth with hair the colour of damp soil broke his fast with a bowl of creamed oats. He sat quietly at a plain scrubbed table and stared out of a small window into the overcast, drizzly day that the south was experiencing. From time to time he’d trickle a small amount of thick milk into his bowl to cool and liquefy the steaming, delicious glug.

There were only three small rooms to the tiny cottage and a man bustled in from one of the others now. ‘Nearly done?’ he asked brightly. ‘Did I get it right?’

The youngster turned and nodded. ‘Delicious,’ he said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

‘Good. Hurry up and finish. I’d like us to get going early,’ the man continued conversationally, leaning to look out of a window as he poured himself some dinch from the pot simmering at the fire. ‘It’s not too cold but the wet weather means you should be able to find us some saramac. I have to go out for a short while. Just to Minton Woodlet.’

The youth kept ladling the oats into his mouth, eating precisely, swallowing carefully.

‘Oh, and excellent news, my boy. I don’t know what you did but the hens are laying again and Bonny’s leg is healed fully. She’s going to be just fine. I’d like to think it was my herbals,’ the man said, turning to stare affectionately as the boy scraped the last of the oats from his bowl, ‘but I know it was you.’

The youth put his spoon into the bowl with a soft clang and looked up. ‘Not all me.’ He shrugged, self-consciously. ‘I like to use it for good.’

‘I know. Just remember, we must keep those skills between us. Never show them off. Never.’

The boy nodded. ‘I know that. I’m finished,’ he said, standing. He lifted the bowl and jug to take them outside to rinse.

‘All right, then. You leave that. I can clear things up. Let’s get you on your way. You know what to look for. I need as many of the fungi as you can find.’

‘You won’t be long, will you?’

‘No, Piven.’

Piven nodded. ‘Be safe, Greven,’ he said, slinging a small sack around his body and reaching for his hat from the hook behind the door.

‘You too, my boy.’ Greven smoothed away the flopping dark waves of hair and kissed Piven’s forehead, as he always did when they said goodbye.

Piven regarded him gravely. ‘The sores have almost gone.’

Greven nodded. ‘I can hardly believe it. All that’s left to remind me I’ve had leprosy is this tremor,’ he said, holding out a hand.

‘I’m sure I can heal that too,’ Piven said. ‘If you’ll let me,’ he added.

Greven watched the orphaned adopted son of the Valisars leave the cottage quietly. He frowned. He’d never questioned that he’d done the right thing in stealing the boy away from the barbarian. That big black bird of omen had led him to Brighthelm and to the child in need—he was sure of it. He’d fought the inclination to follow the bird but he had especially fought getting so close to city folk, and particularly folk of the palace. But the raven had been persistent, staring at him for days, then when Greven finally agreed to follow, returning time and again, swooping and demanding that he continue on the pathway. And though Greven knew where the bird was leading him, he didn’t know why and he feared what he might discover.

He found a helpless, invalid child. And the bird had somehow called to that child, for Piven had looked up and looked straight at them, even though they had been hidden in the tree line on the edge of the forest. The boy had risen and without any hesitation had moved towards them. Greven had felt the irresistible pull towards the young boy, and in spite of every screaming reservation, he had held out a hand and welcomed the child.

Their life had been quiet and uneventful, each of them deriving security from the other. And while Greven offered Piven a life, the boy—fast becoming a young man—had offered Greven hope.

He’d been running from the threat of his pursuer all of his life, so why now, when he was more free, more isolated than he’d been in a long time, did he feel so anxious?

People knew him as Jon Lark, the herbalist who lived with his son, Petor. Once again he was raising a child alone. He’d known about this adopted son of the Valisars who had been mute, indeed lost in his mind—everyone in Penraven knew of the beloved Piven. But within days of their first clasping hands Piven had shocked him by talking. At first it had been halting and of course childish. He had, after all, only been five. Now he was a gangly youth of fifteen anni.

Greven had hoped the boy would forget his past but Piven had forgotten nothing; his recall in fact was daunting. He could describe Brighthelm in detail, walking Greven mentally through the various chambers. He spoke lovingly of his parents especially his mother, whose face he remembered so well that he had drawn her for Greven, and he could see that Piven caught her likeness with uncanny skill. Most of all he talked about his brother, Leo, and had talked a great deal about reuniting with his sibling. He never spoke of Leo as his half-brother, nor did he speak of the years he had been trapped in his silence, his own world.

Greven had tried to discover why Piven had been unable to communicate and, more to the point, how he could suddenly speak so well and so easily for a person who had not used his voice. When he asked Piven the boy would shrug and become introverted and Greven had long ago decided that he was fortunate to have the child at all—and animated besides. The whys and wherefores of his life before they shared it were of no relevance—or so Greven told himself. He himself never spoke of the life he’d had before Piven, and when word had filtered down through the folk who lived amongst and around the forest that Lily had looked for him, he had resisted the deep urge to answer those enquiries.