"That's more than we
know."
"Ay, or more than we should
seek after;
For we know enough if we know
we are the king's subjects."
-King Henry V; IV.i.131
The inn that housed Raoul and Alanna that night, like the one the previous night, was nearly empty of guests. Few had business this late in the year, and, as the news of King Jonathan's death spread from Corus (official word had reached Pirate's Swoop only hours after Raoul's arrival) many who might have had reason to travel thought better of it. The king had been beloved and well known to his people, and his violent and sudden death was a shock to his country. Who knew what disasters might follow? There were rumors that the capital was in ruins, that Prince Roald and his brothers were dead as well, that such terrors were in store that would make the events of Jonathan's coronation seem as nothing.
The innkeeper herself, a stout and sensible woman, a widow of twenty years, as she informed her exalted guests, gave little credence to such rumors.
"There was a messenger what passed through some days back, a herald, you might say," she explained. "And he told us true, that the king was dead (may the gods all rest him!) and of treason, but he didn't say naught of earthquakes and fires and famine and such. Yer Lordship could tell me more the truth of that," she said, eyeing Raoul respectfully, but with the practiced gaze of one who knew a valuable source of gossip when she saw it.
"There is no such danger," he announced curtly. He was in no mood for gossip. They had ridden hard to get here, and had to be on to the capital the next day, and he was tired. Too, his holiday, if such it might be called, was ending. Shocked and stunned populace or no, a new king was in a perilous position and had to be protected; policy had to be formed, and quickly. As Knight Commander of the King's Own, the former was principally his responsibility, and the input on the latter his duty as a vassal. Nevertheless, rumors would have to be quelled if they didn't want to see a civil war once they had dealt with the treason. He had done as much in each village he had passed through both to and from Pirate's Swoop. "I was in Corus when the king was murdered, and the murderer apprehended. The Lioness and I -." Everyone turned to murmur and stare at his companion, who still sat in the shadow, and whom they had assumed by height to be the lord's squire. "- Received word last night that all is completely under control. There will be no earthquake, no civil war, no conflagration."
"But…but what about Scanra?" Called a young voice. Although it housed few travelers that night, the inn was crowed with local men and boys, for whom it was still, as it always had been, a place to meet and exchange news
A tall youth with bright red hair was pushed forward. "Aye, that's our Jonathan, Yer Lordship!" Several voices said proudly. "Brightest one he'd ever taught, as said the priest."
Jonathan looked positively terrified to be facing possibly the two most redoubtable knights of the realm. But Lord Raoul nodded gently at him, and the Lioness, who had pushed back her hood and come to stand with her companion, had what might be construed as a kindly look behind her stern eyes. "Beggin' Yer Lordship's pardon," he said, touching his forelock and looking quickly from the ground to their faces and back down again, "An' Yer Ladyship's," he added. "I was, well I did wonder if the Scanrans might war again, seeing as how the king's dead and all."
It was the Lioness who answered. "They might," she said. "But we beat them once, and we can beat them again. And, they won't be nearly so organized this time, if they decide to attack us on the news that King Jonathan is dead."
"Unless they be the ones what killed him," someone said ominously.
Alanna looked at Raoul and swallowed, briefly closing her eyes. He shook his head at her and stepped forward himself. He could take this burden from her, at least. "The Scanrans had nothing to do with the king's murder," he said. "Nothing. Nor did the Carthakis, Tusaine, the Copper Isles, or anyone else. The treason came from within Tortall."
Alanna took a deep breath, as if steeling herself for the admission of something terrible. She shifted her weight and crossed her arms over her breast. "It was a rogue mage," she said. "A mage from the Royal University. He - He raised a spirit from the dead, and it killed the king."
There was a silence, and then a clamor of talking. This was news. A mage from the Royal University! A spirit! There were some who still held that he must have been in the pay of the Scanrans, or some such foreigners. After all, hadn't there been some business with spirits during the last war? But some of the older men remembered old King Roald's death and the circumstances of Roger of Conté's return from the dead. "It don't go trusting sorcerers," they said, shaking their heads wisely. "It ain't right, what they do at that un-i-vers'ty. Magic just to do magic? That don't be what the gods intended."
The Lioness and Lord Raoul moved away quietly to sit in their corner. The villagers did not ask them anything more. If such great folk had deigned to share a bit of news, it was well and enough; there was no good in arousing their anger with questions. Besides, as some whispered, heroes and nobles felt the same as commoners did, and those knights had known the king well. "It's not right to bother in their grief, an' it be much greater than our'n," Jonathan's father told him, when the lad would have asked the Lioness for a tale of the Scanran war.
Alanna put her face in her hands. "Oh Gods, I've a headache!" She rubbed her forehead. "I can't do this Raoul. I can't." She lowered her voice so that it was barely a whisper. "I can't deny my own child."
Raoul said nothing. He wasn't sure that there was anything he could say. This emotional business was why he had avoided women for so many years. Things were much simpler, much clearer, among men - among warriors. And it unnerved him to see a close friend, who had always been as frank and decided as he in such situations, succumbing to what he couldn't help but still think of as "womanish" sentiments.
"My oldest, my firstborn son, my heir," she continued. "You can't understand how I'm torn. You and Buri haven't any children."
"Yet." A thin, tired smile played about Raoul's mouth. "But given eight months or so..."
Alanna looked up. "You …I … Congratulations! Or, rather," she added, sinking back into melancholy, "I should offer condolences. I wish he had never been born!"
Raoul was a little alarmed, but only a little. It was relieving, in fact, to hear Alanna echoing his own sentiments. Nevertheless, he didn't think she meant it seriously, and he certainly couldn't comment so. "Surely…"
"Wouldn't it have been better?" Her tone was bitter. "He betrayed me, Raoul. Apart from Jonathan - though any mother ought to hate a child who had committed High Treason - he was disloyal to me! He betrayed me when he did … that thing. Do you think he hated me?" Her eyes dug into Raoul's. "Did he despise me, and decide to hurt me the worst way he could?" She began to laugh, low, but almost hysterically. "Twice I killed Roger. Once for justice; once in vengeance for my beloved fool of a brother. I suppose I'll have to kill him again now - for my son!"
"Alanna, Alanna, calm down," Raoul urged. Now he really was alarmed. Alanna couldn't be losing her mind over this! She couldn't be. For himself, he didn't think that the choice between a traitor of son and his king would be very difficult, but, he reminded himself, he was not yet a father. And a woman was, he added mentally, praying that Alanna never knew that he thought it, different from a man in these emotional matters - a woman was more sentimental about her children - even if that woman was the most renowned knight in the realm. For himself, his loyalty had moved imperceptibly fast from Jonathan to Roald, but he recalled perfectly his duty to his old school friend and king. Come what might, he would not forgive Thom of Pirate's Swoop, whatever Alanna's final conclusion.
"I'm perfectly calm. Perfectly." She took a few deep breaths, as if willing herself to make her statement true. "But I love him, Raoul. Gods all help me, but I'm his mother. It would have been easier if he had died..." Her voice was almost pleading. "I don't know what to do, what to think."
"Have you -" Raoul hesitated. As one to whom the gods had never vouchsafed a word, or, indeed, any sign, he was reticent of speaking of such intimate matters with those who had been contacted by divinity. He lowered his voice further. "Have you asked your Goddess?"
Alanna gave him a crooked, bitter smile. "When Aly went missing, when George died: everyone always asks me if I've consulted Her. As if She watches to make everything right for me! Of course I've prayed," she whispered fiercely. "Every night since you brought me the news, I've prayed that I'll know which way to turn. And I don't. I think I know, briefly, and then I doubt myself."
"If it's any comfort," Raoul said, "I think he was more of a fool than a conscious traitor. I don't think he intended any malice…" It wasn't any comfort, and he knew that she knew it.
"I know just where I should stand, were it someone else who had been the fool." Alanna said. Her voice was raspy and harsh. "I know just where I stand on Numair Salmalín's foolishness. I'll make sure he shares the same fate," she said, suddenly fierce, "if my Thom dies. When my Thom dies!" Her eyes were wide, and she was gasping for breath amid silent, dry sobs.
Raoul was suddenly aware that it was almost impossible that their conversation had not been overheard. True, the peasants were carefully keeping their distance, and the din in the common room was nearly unbearable, but it was unlikely that someone had not seized that chance to listen to his betters' concerns. And Alanna was overtired and overwrought. She would murder him when she realized how much weakness he had let her show in front of him, let alone in front of so many strangers - so many commoners. He shuddered a bit. Murder was no longer a joke, even to oneself.
"Better go up," he said softly to Alanna, rising and gently nudging her to follow. "We want to make Corus as early tomorrow as we can."
With a final shivering breath, she got up, pulling her cloak down and around her. Although they moved as unobtrusively as possible to the corridor, they could not avoid the sudden silence and staring that accompanied their exit. Raoul allowed Alanna to precede him as they followed the maid slowly up the narrow stairs.
"Good night," he said as he left her at the door to her room. Alanna did not answer, but entered, and closed her door gently. Listening, Raoul could hear soft noises, and then muttering. A spell? A prayer? After a little while more of waiting, he moved on to his own chamber.
REVISED:
16-2-05
6-6-05 - Changed "Jeremy" to "Jonothan."
12-6-05 -- Changed "Jonothan" to "Jonathan."
