"Aubrey—I can't even begin to apologize to you for what happened..." Duke Gareth looked pale and nervous as he paced back and forth across Aubrey's room. The young knight would have found it amusing if he felt less humiliated.
"You have nothing to apologize for, Sir," he said heavily, trying to appear calm as he wiped the stain off his shoe.
"If ever I cross paths with them, I'll show just who's a snake—I'm sure Jon won't rest until justice has been served."
Aubrey sighed. "Sir, you know as well as I do that this matter will be dropped as quickly as possible. His Majesty won't create trouble over Midwinter—and he knows that if he really punishes Leander and Duncan, the nobles of the court will have something to say about. Those two aren't the only ones who think I'm a poisonous, treacherous serpent."
The Duke of Naxen dropped his gaze—he could not deny it, much as he wanted to. He drummed his fingers against the mantelpiece. "You're not a snake or a traitor, Aubrey," he said. "I know, even if they don't, that you're not your father all over again. I've told Jon and Alanna a thousand times..."
"I appreciate your good word, Sir, but if they've made up their minds about me already, nothing you say will change that." Aubrey sat down softly on his bed, and shook his head. "I wonder if I wouldn't have been better off herding sheep all these years for Audwin." He gave a little snort of laughter at the thought.
Duke Gareth wasn't listening. "I'm going straight to the King and Queen with this," he said to himself. "It's disgraceful, letting those two speak to you like that—I can't let the issue drop."
"There's nothing else you can do tonight, Sir."
The Duke scowled, then relaxed. "I suppose not," he sighed. "Goodnight, Aubrey. Don't worry, I'll speak to them."
Aubrey nodded a goodnight to his former knight-master, then turned to the window to think.
*****
King Jonathan of Tortall nodded a terse greeting to Duke Gareth as the large, brown-bearded man entered the room.
"Thank you for seeing me at this late hour, your Majesty," the Duke said, easing himself into the chair opposite the King. "I wouldn't have asked, expect that it's a very important matter to me—and, I think, to you as well."
Jonathan stroked his beard, curling the ends under with his finger as he thought. "The matter of Aubrey?" he asked quietly, "yes, I though so; it's been a long time in coming."
"The way Leander and Duncan treated him tonight was disgraceful—it's the way he's been treated here since he was an eight-year-old page! And just because he had the misfortune to be the son of--"
The King held up a warning hand. "I know his background, Gary," he said. "I agree that he was very ill-treated tonight; Leander and Duncan have been made acutely aware of my displeasure, I assure you. But the fact is, there is a very legitimate question about his right to be here at all. I tested the limits more than ever before when I allowed him to enroll as a page. I know he was your squire, and that the two of you are quite close but—Gods above, Gary!—he's the son of a traitor and a farmer's girl...!"
"And his heart counts for nothing?" the Duke asked bitterly.
The King made an exasperated sound. "That's not what I meant, and you know it—and I only have your word about his heart, as you put it. You can't deny that he takes after his father in some very unsettling ways."
"What?! He doesn't belong here because he's dark? Because he's swarthy?"
"I'm speaking of his secretiveness, Gary. Alex was just as silent and secretive—we never guessed what sort of treason and hatred he was fostering all those years."
"He's not his father, Jon! Why can't you accept that he's a completely different person from Alex?"
The King leaned back in his chair, expression troubled. He hadn't realized how biased and short-sighted his argument sounded. But Aubrey was Alex's son...
Duke Gareth sighed heavily, and bent forward to speak. "Jon, listen to me: I've served you every year of my life since we were pages together, and in that time I've never lied to you, or hidden anything from you, or served you ill in anyway. I know you think he'll turn out like his father; I know you can't bring yourself to trust him. But I hope it means something to you when I give you my word that Aubrey is as good and worthy a young man as any nobly-born knight you can name. He deserves better than what he's been given."
Jonathan drummed his finger irritably against the armrest of his chair, then gestured to one of his attendants. "Please bring Aubrey of Tirragen to me as soon as it is convenient," he told the man, then turned back to the Duke.
"Alright, Gary," he said. "I'll give him a chance to prove you right." He shook his head. "I still have my misgivings about him—and I'm sure Alanna will give them all voice for me—but I can't deny him at least a chance."
The attendant was not long in coming, and when he entered the room, both men were astonished to see him alone. "I beg pardon, your Majesty, your Grace" he said with a polite cough, "but Sir Aubrey is not in his quarters."
"You have nothing to apologize for, Sir," he said heavily, trying to appear calm as he wiped the stain off his shoe.
"If ever I cross paths with them, I'll show just who's a snake—I'm sure Jon won't rest until justice has been served."
Aubrey sighed. "Sir, you know as well as I do that this matter will be dropped as quickly as possible. His Majesty won't create trouble over Midwinter—and he knows that if he really punishes Leander and Duncan, the nobles of the court will have something to say about. Those two aren't the only ones who think I'm a poisonous, treacherous serpent."
The Duke of Naxen dropped his gaze—he could not deny it, much as he wanted to. He drummed his fingers against the mantelpiece. "You're not a snake or a traitor, Aubrey," he said. "I know, even if they don't, that you're not your father all over again. I've told Jon and Alanna a thousand times..."
"I appreciate your good word, Sir, but if they've made up their minds about me already, nothing you say will change that." Aubrey sat down softly on his bed, and shook his head. "I wonder if I wouldn't have been better off herding sheep all these years for Audwin." He gave a little snort of laughter at the thought.
Duke Gareth wasn't listening. "I'm going straight to the King and Queen with this," he said to himself. "It's disgraceful, letting those two speak to you like that—I can't let the issue drop."
"There's nothing else you can do tonight, Sir."
The Duke scowled, then relaxed. "I suppose not," he sighed. "Goodnight, Aubrey. Don't worry, I'll speak to them."
Aubrey nodded a goodnight to his former knight-master, then turned to the window to think.
*****
King Jonathan of Tortall nodded a terse greeting to Duke Gareth as the large, brown-bearded man entered the room.
"Thank you for seeing me at this late hour, your Majesty," the Duke said, easing himself into the chair opposite the King. "I wouldn't have asked, expect that it's a very important matter to me—and, I think, to you as well."
Jonathan stroked his beard, curling the ends under with his finger as he thought. "The matter of Aubrey?" he asked quietly, "yes, I though so; it's been a long time in coming."
"The way Leander and Duncan treated him tonight was disgraceful—it's the way he's been treated here since he was an eight-year-old page! And just because he had the misfortune to be the son of--"
The King held up a warning hand. "I know his background, Gary," he said. "I agree that he was very ill-treated tonight; Leander and Duncan have been made acutely aware of my displeasure, I assure you. But the fact is, there is a very legitimate question about his right to be here at all. I tested the limits more than ever before when I allowed him to enroll as a page. I know he was your squire, and that the two of you are quite close but—Gods above, Gary!—he's the son of a traitor and a farmer's girl...!"
"And his heart counts for nothing?" the Duke asked bitterly.
The King made an exasperated sound. "That's not what I meant, and you know it—and I only have your word about his heart, as you put it. You can't deny that he takes after his father in some very unsettling ways."
"What?! He doesn't belong here because he's dark? Because he's swarthy?"
"I'm speaking of his secretiveness, Gary. Alex was just as silent and secretive—we never guessed what sort of treason and hatred he was fostering all those years."
"He's not his father, Jon! Why can't you accept that he's a completely different person from Alex?"
The King leaned back in his chair, expression troubled. He hadn't realized how biased and short-sighted his argument sounded. But Aubrey was Alex's son...
Duke Gareth sighed heavily, and bent forward to speak. "Jon, listen to me: I've served you every year of my life since we were pages together, and in that time I've never lied to you, or hidden anything from you, or served you ill in anyway. I know you think he'll turn out like his father; I know you can't bring yourself to trust him. But I hope it means something to you when I give you my word that Aubrey is as good and worthy a young man as any nobly-born knight you can name. He deserves better than what he's been given."
Jonathan drummed his finger irritably against the armrest of his chair, then gestured to one of his attendants. "Please bring Aubrey of Tirragen to me as soon as it is convenient," he told the man, then turned back to the Duke.
"Alright, Gary," he said. "I'll give him a chance to prove you right." He shook his head. "I still have my misgivings about him—and I'm sure Alanna will give them all voice for me—but I can't deny him at least a chance."
The attendant was not long in coming, and when he entered the room, both men were astonished to see him alone. "I beg pardon, your Majesty, your Grace" he said with a polite cough, "but Sir Aubrey is not in his quarters."