Chapter 8)
Hours later, satiated and lazily stroking Julia's soft skin Tredorian said quietly. "I hear that I trespass with another's chosen bride when I lie with thee."
Julia looked at him with eyes that were slightly alarmed. "Where did you hear that?" She asked, her sweet voice a bit tense.
Tredorian shrugged, unwilling to reveal he had been lurking in the shadows earlier. "Most likely servant gossip, I cannot recall." He traced the line of her mouth. "Are you betrothed to another?"
"My family has arranged my marriage to Christopher Huntsilver, the heir to the Huntsilver estates." Julia shrugged. "I would rather be with you than he right now though." With an expertise she'd learned quickly in his arms her hands stroked his shoulders and chest, looking up at him in seductive sweetness.
Tredorian smiled, resisting her efforts for the moment. "And if you did not have to wed him?" He inquired, keeping his voice light with an effort.
Julia looked at him and took a deep breath. "I cannot dwell on a future that will never be." She said quietly, thinking that it would not do to tell him she wished to wed Huntsilver, better for him to believe her compelled. The more hopeless her seeming situation, the more romantic her aspect and the more enduring Tredorian's love for her. The passion his gaze ignited in her was intoxicating and his own emotions gave his lovemaking power and fire.
The young man frowned slightly, her lack of hope was almost melancholy. "I take it he does not know of my current position in your affections?" He remarked, stroking her hair and pressing a soft kiss to her neck.
"I cannot be thought other than a maid." She reminded him, stretching out so her body lay beside his.
"And yet, I had thought the queen did not object to her ladies knowing a man in their beds?" Tredorian asked raising an eyebrow curiously.
"Better that she does not, since she was nothing but a strumpet herself." Julia rolled her eyes.
Dark eyes stared at her, surprise in their depths. "You think so little of her, when all of Cormyr owes her so much?" He asked. "I had the impression that the king would take no other to wife but she? You have so little respect for her and she your queen?"
"Tredorian." Julia's tone was that of an adult towards a particularly naïve child, as she began her explanation. "The queen was the king's mistress when he was only the crown prince. She was installed in that position when he first arrived to take his place in Cormyr under the dubious title of his personal bard. She happened to be in the right place at an opportune moment and she saved his life. But she was a nobody, a bastard and a half breed and she seduced him into marrying her when he was only a boy and easily manipulated."
"So the Nobility of Cormyr has no use for her?" Tredorian asked as if trying to understand. "She has produced five children who can be considered heirs."
"She keeps the king happy, and she's a cold enough woman that she's kept him from acting hastily on several occasions." Julia conceded. "But she is not a noble lady, she wasn't even born of Cormyrean citizens, thus the royal line is tainted." She kissed him then, pressing her body against his. "Do you truly wish to talk of the queen my lover?" She asked, running her hands over his flanks. "Dawn will break soon, and surely there are other ways we can pass our time."
Tredorian smiled against her lips, setting aside his concerns and returned the kiss, losing himself in their passion again.
Asrai looked up as Tredorian entered the theatre. The Admiral's Men were behind him and she grinned. "I take it you are all ready for your dance lessons today?" She jumped down from her perch upon the stage.
Ned groaned. "Why we must all learn some new dance when an old minuet will do is beyond me."
"Because the dance Asrai and I know is perfect for when Romeo and Juliet first meet, and in order for you to position your blocking correctly you must know how to perform it. The stage is large enough for three couples to dance and have room for spectators." Tredorian told him moving towards the stairs. A thoughtful frown creased his brow.
Asrai looked at the writer and then at Ned. "What's wrong?" She asked the actor and he shrugged his own confusion.
Tredorian heard her question and sighed. "Love or passion?" He asked himself and looked back down at the stage. Between his Romeo and Juliet it was definitely love. A smile curved his lips as he hurried up the stairs to begin writing.
"Suffering cats!" Ned's favorite curse fell from Asrai's lips. "Gentleman upstage, ladies downstage!" She repeated the instruction. "Are you a lady Master Alleyn?"
"Asrai, I think you enjoy this far too much." Ned told her. "This dance is impossible. You are making it up as you go, in hopes of making fools of us."
"No Ned, you're doing that quite well on your own." Asrai replied blithely. "Here, I'll show you." She looked up the stairs. "Tredorian!"
"What!" The irate voice that called down was not that of a man who enjoyed interruption.
"Since even I can tell that its not working today, would you come down and help me demonstrate this dance?" She asked. Fenneyman watched, bemused as Tredorian stumped down the steps.
"Asrai…" The playwright began and then sighed. "You're right, it's going horribly right now. Distraction will help." He looked around. "I think part of our problem is no music. Henslowe?"
"Yea?" Henslowe popped his head out the curtain.
"Do you still have that odd instrument?" Tredorian asked curiously. When Henslowe nodded Tredorian grinned, "Well get it out here, it has wheels doesn't it?"
"Tredorian, how am I supposed to move a pianoforte upon your whim?" Henslowe asked with an air of one who's been requested to do the impossible.
Asrai's eyes had lit up. "Master Henslowe…you have a pianoforte?" She breathed the question.
"Aye, bought it some time ago but can't get no one to play it." Henslowe admitted ruefully.
"Where is it?" Asrai was nearly beside herself in excitement, and Tredorian and the rest of the company regarded her with amused bewilderment.
"Well if I can get a little help we'll have it in the wings…" Henslowe began and was immediately tugged off by the impatient girl. Ned and Nicholas, as well as Daniel and Sam found themselves conscripted as moving men by their very enthusiastic leading lady.
When they'd at last maneuvered 'the beast' as Ned called it, into the wings Henslowe whisked off the cover. "Oh Master Henslowe…it's lovely." Asrai touched the ivory keys with near reverence and looked up as Fenneyman peered behind the curtain. "Look Master Fenneyman." She smiled over the instrument. "Listen." Sitting on a stool nearby she put her hands to the keys and began to play, frowning as she listened for a sour note.
"You've even kept it tuned." Tredorian noted from behind Fenneyman. "Good work indeed Henslowe." He looked at Ned who was staring at Asrai.
"Indeed." Ned murmured. "Can you play it Asrai?" He asked curiously. "Or is it simply a large instrument with which you are fascinated?"
"I love to play." Asrai closed her eyes and put her hands to the keys again. Soon from the instrument a lovely tune suitable for dance was rising. "That is the music to which our dance is paced." She said rising.
"How do you know how to play it?" Ned asked quietly, his gaze narrowing on her in suspicion once again.
Asrai said in a voice dripping with sarcasm, "Because Ned, I'm the Royal Princess Asrai Aelaitha and I was taught to play all manner of instruments as well as history, poetry, languages." She threw her hands in the air. "Suffering cats! How do you think I learned? My father gave my mother a pianoforte as a gift and I learned to play it."
"The royal princess eh?" Ned nudged Nicholas who gave a long suffering sigh. "There are days I could believe it Asrai, you act such the regal lady."
"The highest of compliments I'm sure." She drawled back at him. "Master Henslowe, can you play that tune? That way we'll have the music Tredorian believes will aid our rehearsal of the dance."
Henslowe nodded. "I can approximate it I think." He sat down in her place and placed his hands on the keys. "Just tell me when to begin."
Tredorian took Asrai by the hand and led her onto the stage. "Now gentleman," he addressed them. "We begin thus… Now Henslowe." He called and placed his palm to Asrai's. Slowly they walked through the formal intimacy of the dance, he circling her, she circling him, and continuing until it was done. Asrai sank into a formal curtsey instinctively as Tredorian bowed.
"Why don't we all have a little break before we begin it again?" Sam suggested wearily. "I think I've broken my back moving 'the beast'." He complained.
The company exited the Rose in search of a cool breeze and fresh air while Asrai went backstage and began to talk with Henslowe and Fenneyman about the instrument.
Tredorian sat on a bench and considered his situation again until the company reentered, with Sam calling for Fenneyman. "If you want to put your man Lambert to good use, you should have him scare off that one legged fool of an old soldier out front." The young actor said. "The Rose doesn't need to look anymore decrepit than it is."
"He is a sad sight." Ned agreed. Daniel began to hop around in a poor imitation, begging for coins and crusts.
"You need not send Lambert Master Fenneyman." Asrai said in too quiet voice. "I shall take care of the soldier." She walked out, across the stage ignoring Daniel's antics and the laughter of the men.
As they said, on a bench outside the theatre was an older man, with dirty iron grey hair and only one leg, with a crutch beside him. "Sir." She touched his shoulder gently. "Do you need help to return to your home?"
"Thankee yer Highness." The rheumy eyed man saw more clearly than the actors did. "But I ha'n't got a home."
"I'm not the princess." Asrai lied. "But I thank you for the mistake." She sat beside him ignoring the smell of his unwashed clothes and body. "I thought the king had provided for all his soldiers." She remarked.
"Tha' he did and did it well too." The soldier agreed. "But the mill I's working burnt down three month ago, an' I can't find work since." He shrugged. "Din't seem right to go asking his Majesty fer help when he'd help'd me oncet."
"I think he'd be more angry that you didn't come to him." Asrai said quietly. "Please, I have some money. Take it, and get a coach to take you to the Court. I know his Majesty will help you. He fought too." She said softly, feeling suddenly as if her emotions were a whirlwind buffeting her with extremes of anger, pain and sorrow. Her father had fought, and before him, her grandfather and Uncle Drakkar. Then Andreas had gone through the hell of Candlekeep's attack and come home silent and cold. If she could not help her big brother at least she could help this man who might have even fought at her father's side.
"I thankee yer Highness." The soldier smiled. "Reckon its better to swallow some pride than hunger."
"There's no shame in asking for help." She said softly. "He'd be the first to tell you."
"So he would, so he did." The old man smiled. "Ye have the look o' him ye know."
"I know." She smiled and ducked her head shyly. "But I'm supposed to be in disguise, learning about my people, so don't tell please? Not anyone?"
"I won't, not if the king hi'self was to ask me." He swore raising his hand solemnly. Asrai rewarded him with a beaming smile and pressed a small purse into his hand. "Thankee again…my lady." He smiled back and rose with a bit of difficulty, set off to find a coach.
Asrai took a deep breath as she watched him go and entered the theatre. From the doorway she could see Ned along with the rest of the company laughing at Daniel's comic efforts. Tredorian had disappeared. Henslowe and Fennyman were discussing something quietly offstage, ignoring the actors foolery. Furiously she slammed the door shut and with a speed and fury that astounded her fellow actors crossed the pit and slapped Ned across the face.
"How dare you!" She nearly hissed in her rage but it echoed around the theatre like a shout, "How dare you!" She looked at them all, her face pale with her anger and her eyes blazing, "You jest at scars, who never felt a wound!" She raged, "You mock him for his impediments, when you have never faced battle in your lives except of course onstage!" Asrai looked up as Tredorian, Fenneyman and Henslowe came onstage, "All of you!"
The stared at her stunned, motionless before the force of her wrath. "We were only…" Daniel began and faded off uncomfortably as her eyes fell on him.
"You were only disparaging something you can't possibly understand!" She growled. "You all posture and pose and claim honor and distinction for your talents on the stage. But you just proved that you don't know the meaning of the word honor!" Tears started in her eyes as she stared at them, "Fully half of you are from the Silver Marches, and I never heard of your country coming to the aid of the south during the battle of the Cormanthor, or when New Beregost was sacked! Not even when citizens of the High Forest were under siege for months did the rest of the Silver Marches intervene! Yet you would mock one whose efforts resulted in your freedom?"
She held her hand to her sword and nearly pulled it in her fury, "If it weren't for those who fought in the Battle of the Cormanthor, Malar's forces would have swept over this entire continent, and be damned to Silverymoon's magical might! My father nearly died in the Cormanthor. His best friend did die there." She strode towards Ned not even a little intimidated by his dark look and superior height, "And if you cannot do honor to his name and his memory by at least behaving as if you respect his efforts, then I regret ever giving Tredorian the name."
Her fury seemed to seep from her as Tredorian came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. "You mock…you jest…" She began and shook her head. "You who have never felt a wound, mock those who gave their lives for your freedom." She let Tredorian lead her off, taking her up the stairs.
As Tredorian and Asrai disappeared from sight Nicholas looked at Sam and the younger man hissed. "How dare we? How dare she, that insipid little upstart—"
"Is right," Ned interrupted in heavy tones, "She's right." Around him the older actors were nodding, their expressions shamefaced.
"What!" Nicholas began to rant and was interrupted again.
"You wouldn't remember Nicholas." Henslowe said. "I don't think you were even born at the time, and I know you weren't Sam." He looked at Fenneyman who nodded. "Even the king, Heir to the Crown that he was then, went to fight. There wasn't a corner of Cormyr didn't lose someone in that war." He looked up at the stairs and sighed, thinking of the brother who had been two years older than a thirteen year old Henslowe. The brother who had gone to war with the Crown Prince, and returned with one eye, and scars that had tormented his soul until he'd died too early for his years.
"Now we know from what depths Asrai takes her performances." Ned murmured quietly to Daniel.
"The child is bearing something terrible heavy on those slim shoulders." Fenneyman agreed with the actor, his face sober with his own memories.
"She rages with the strength of one whose grief equals her anger." Ned took a deep breath, "And I for one, shall listen when she begins to laugh at our swordplay onstage. If her father fought, chances are he taught her to use that blade she wears."
"You've got to be joking." Sam exclaimed. "Surely she wears it simply to ward off trouble, she can't use it."
"I wouldn't bet money on that." Ned told him. "Shall we attempt this insane dance? I think I have the rudiments of it." The others nodded and he turned to Henslowe. "If you'll oblige us?"
Asrai sat watching as Tredorian scribbled away madly. "I don't know how you do it Asrai." He said quietly, when he paused to uncramp his fingers. "But even when you're raging you inspire me."
Asrai shook her head slowly, "No…I just make you think now and again." She said with a tiny smile. "I suppose I made a terrible fool of myself just now."
Tredorian slanted a glance at her, "No, you made them think as well." He looked down at the line he'd just written and took a deep breath. "They were behaving dishonorably. I'm sorry it touched so deep a wound in you."
Asrai took a ragged breath. "I suppose I'm touchy about the subject of battles these days." She admitted and then said nothing for a moment. Tredorian simply waited for her to continue, his eyes remaining on her face. "I…my oldest brother…was…He was in the Western Heart when New Beregost fell."
The expression on her face was one Tredorian had never seen on any human being, it spoke of such loss, such pain, and sorrow that for a moment he could not speak. "I'm sorry Asrai…he died?"
Much to his surprise she shook her head, "Oh no." She realized she was crying and angrily wiped the tears off her cheeks. "No he returned without a scratch physically." She took a deep breath and it turned into a sob. "He's just…just not my big brother anymore." She got the words out with difficulty. "He used to…he'd juggle when I was little, just to see me smile. He'd do magic tricks…slight of hand…our mother taught him." She gave up fighting the tears and let them stream down her face while she tried to explain.
Tredorian watched as she struggled with what she was trying to tell him. She obviously loved her brother deeply. Gently he took a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes until she could speak again. "Oh Tredorian." Asrai whispered painfully. "He's just gone…his heart is sealed off from all of us. He won't talk about anything important. He won't talk about New Beregost. We all know something is bothering him but he won't tell us." A sob erupted from her throat. "And it hurts! It hurts so badly…he's hurting and he won't let me help him, and he won't let me love him…"
The writer impulsively knelt in front of her stool and took her in his arms gently, holding her as she wept bitter pain filled tears. "I miss him Tredorian…I miss him so much…" She cried. "He's just gone, my Andy is gone! And he's right there…and he won't let me…"
"Shhhh…" Tredorian stroked her hair and back trying to soothe her, to comfort her. "It will be all right." He looked up to see Ned standing there silently and mouthed the words 'Go A-Way!' as fervently as he could.
"No it won't." Asrai sobbed, before Ned could move. "Nothing can make it right again. Everything changed and I lost my aunt and uncle, and then my favorite cousins William and Natalia left too, and Andy came back and wasn't Andy anymore…" She shook her head, her sobs shaking her shoulders. "It will never be all right again."