Casimir's Journey (15 page)

He nodded stiffly. “I will keep silent on this matter as long as you give me your word my comrade and I may depart after the meal.”

She looked dejected. “You have it.”

He sat down and as he did, Roysten sprang to life again, chewing noisily. He offered Hadden a piece of the bread, which Hadden declined.

Conversation halted. Once Roysten had eaten all the bread Grizelle had put on the table, he sat back with a belch. “Thank you, Mistress Grizelle. That was a fine meal. Hadden, you have coin for her?” He raised an eyebrow.

Hadden laughed a little. Trust Roysten to ensure he parted with no money. “Of course I do, and I shall be pleased to cover yours as well,” he said as he stood smoothly. He looked down, realizing that his sword was still drawn. He sheathed it, which occasioned another upraised brow from Roysten.

“If you can bestir yourself to get the horses, I shall pay for the meal.”

Roysten nodded, and with a “thank you,” and bow to Grizelle, he hurried from the room.

Hadden looked at her. She hadn’t gotten up when they did.

“You’re sure you won’t reconsider?” She asked.

“I must decline.” He didn’t hesitate.

“Then I wish you nothing but good luck and great fortune, Hadden.”

He inclined his head, and left a handful of coppers on the table. Then he left the hut, ducking as he walked out the doorway.

Roysten was mounted, holding the reins of Hadden’s horse. “That will make the journey back a bit less miserable, but we’ve discovered nothing.”

Hadden swung up into the saddle. “Only that this far in, the lone resident doesn’t seem overly concerned. I think we should concentrate on hanging about the tavern to see what we might here.”

“I’m all for that,” Roysten said, as he kicked his horse out onto the rough lane. “Less time in the saddle with ready ale sounds promising to me!”

Hadden laughed. Unlike their hostess, Roysten was simple and uncomplicated. Such a fact should be reassuring, but the entire ride back to the tavern, he mulled over his conversation with Grizelle. At the time, he felt he’d done the right thing, but as each mile passed, he was less sure.

What if he could solve the riddle? It would be a fine thing, to be a lord, married to a princess. He’d heard they were uncommonly pretty. Mad and completely tiresome, as royalty was up close, but pretty nonetheless. He grimaced to himself. He’d only heard the mad comments after men started dying, so perhaps that wasn’t the best testament to their characters.

He nodded to Roysten when he spoke, but couldn’t stop his mind from poking at the riddle. She’d said they were cursed and not acting of their own accord, that they were doing things they’d rather not. That resonated with him.

What had he heard? In the service of the king, he’d listened to the idle gossip that surrounded the court, but never with much interest. The king was considered fair, if a bit indulgent with his daughters. He was an object of sympathy at times, what with twelve of them, and not one married. No son amongst them either.

By the time they reached the tavern, just as dusk was falling, he was glad to be out of the saddle and to stretch his legs. Roysten was eager to go to the taproom.

“You go,” he said. “I’m not in the mood.” Roysten didn’t hesitate. Hadden watched him hurry in. At least his pockets wouldn’t be lighter for this.

He trudged up the narrow stairs to the space he and Roysten slept in. It was a small room, and smelled very much like it had been a storage space before. The smell of onions lingered. He didn’t care. It had a door and a bed.

Once he’d divested himself of his sword and outer clothing, he lit a small tallow lamp and fell onto the bed. He couldn’t get the princesses out of his head, which irked him. He served the king, not a bunch of spoiled chits who snuck out at night.

Would this, however, not be further service to the king? Grizelle said that this would not end without help, that there was no way to end this unless someone stepped in.

If the curse didn’t end, what did that mean for Gallivas? He lay in bed for another hour, tossing the problem over in his mind. What bothered him was that he kept coming to the same conclusion, and it was one that he didn’t want to face.

Finally, he got up and rummaged through his saddlebags. Maddox had given him parchment, ink, and quills in case he needed it. This needed a letter of explanation to his commander. He didn’t want to come back and find himself facing charges of desertion or dereliction of duty.

He snorted to himself. If he failed, there’d be nothing to worry about in regards to coming back.

Once the letter was done, he allowed the ink to dry, then sanded and sealed it. Then he set it aside and went down to join Roysten and eat.

Perhaps the last carefree meal he’d have.

When he reached the taproom, he could see Roysten at a corner table with a girl on his lap. Where else would she be? For all his complaints, Roysten was charming when he put his mind to it.

“Hadden! Good to see you finally come down!” Roysten raised his tankard while the girl giggled.

“Mistress, would you excuse us? And be so kind as to fetch me some food and drink?” Hadden bowed to the girl, who skittered away, still giggling.

Roysten laughed. “You’re as good as some poncy lord with your bowing and mistress-ing,” he said.

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to be mannered. Not that you’d know, you churlish boor!” They laughed together.

“Are your wits still with you?”

Roysten sobered immediately. “Of course. This—” he gestured with the tankard, “Provides my bona fides. Makes me look like an old sot who got some free time from his overeager commander. People like to see a man go on in spite of such. Makes them chatty.” He grinned conspiratorially at Hadden. “Course, you go waving that blond hair, and batting your lovely blue eyes, with all your manners, then I’ll look the churl.”

Hadden rolled his eyes. At least Roysten hadn’t called him ‘as pretty as a lass.’ “. What have you learned? Look like I’m coming down on you.”

Roysten immediately set down the tankard and glued his eyes to the table, as though feeling sheepish. “The locals are angry. Prince Casimir was well liked in these parts. In the whole kingdom, to hear them tell it. They don’t feel Aland did right. That he should have granted mercy to Casimir. They are angry for their king. Nothing where action is going to happen, not yet. All it’ll take is one man to come and stir them up, and they’ll be at the border. Lots of support for the bandits we’ve been chasing, too. Rather feisty about it, they are, with their support.” He looked up at Hadden, looking for all the world like a man asking for forgiveness.

“Good job. So there is some worry—we need to ensure that no one gets mad enough to stand up.” He drummed his fingers on the table.

“That’s not really anything we have any control over,” Roysten pointed out, looking down again. “Bang on the table, look like you’re still angry with me.”

Hadden thumped it a few times as he leaned in. “What do people want to see happen?”

“Now there’s the rub. They feel Aland owes something—no one can really say what—money, a princess, something—to Markellus and Ethion. I gather that the remaining sons, while well thought of, don’t seem to be as highly regarded as the late prince.”

“Damn. Damn it all.” This made his path forward clear. There was no other way. “Listen, tomorrow, you’re going back to Maddox. I’ve a letter for him that tells him what I’m about. I have an idea that I think can stave off this anger.”

Roysten sat up. “You’re leaving on your own? I think not!”

“I must. I’m sworn to keep Gallivas, and our king, safe.”

“Then you’ll do it with me. We can hire someone to deliver the message.”

“From where? Here? Are you mad? We’re not at war, but they aren’t feeling friendly to Gallivas at the moment, as you’ve pointed out. No, Roys, I must send you. I trust no one else. We leave tomorrow. You must let Maddox know.”

Roysten compressed his lips together in a straight, angry line. “I don’t like it and neither will Maddox. You know it’s better with two than heading off on your own, like a damn fool.”

If anyone else spoke to him in such a manner, he’d have ordered them whipped at the pole. But Roysten had been with him since he was given the position of company commander and had proven his loyalty many times over.

“I realize that, and I know that I’m a damn fool. But there’s no other way. Do I need to order you?”

Roysten glared, and looked down. When he looked at Hadden again he said, “No. I’m leaving tonight. If you’re going off on your own anyway, I’d prefer to go back to our company, Commander. Give me the letter for Maddox, and I’ll be on my way.” He stood up, and headed towards the stairs. “You’re buying the meal!” He threw over his shoulder

Hadden sighed as he turned to watch him walk away. Roysten’s body was stiff with anger. It was deserved. Maddox was firm on the idea that no one went off on their own, but he didn’t want to involve anyone else in what might become a quick march to his death.

The serving girl returned then and set a platter and tankard in front of him. He hunkered over his meal, eating quickly, not looking around. The taproom was filling, and he could tell that a number of people had seen Roysten storm off. He kept his head down, and when he was done, he found the girl and paid their bill.

Then he went back to the room. Since Roysten hadn’t come back down, he assumed he was still there, waiting to yell at him.

When he opened the door, Roysten was packing his saddlebags. “What do you want me to give Maddox?” His voice was calm, which surprised Hadden, given his anger earlier.

“It’s here. I wrote it before I came down.” He found the sealed letter and handed it to Roysten who shoved it into a saddlebag. When he was done, Roysten looked up.

“I’m leaving now. If you’re going to be a fool, I’m not going to wait to let Maddox know.” He glared, daring Hadden to argue.

“Fine. Good plan.”

“It’s on your head, Commander.” With that, Roysten walked from the room, bags in hand, and slammed the door as he left.

Hadden sighed, watching the door for a moment. When he heard the thunk of Roysten’s boots on the narrow stairs, he sat down on the bed and took off his own boots. He lay back, going over the events of the day, hoping he’d not made a mistake and cost himself his career. With such pleasant thoughts, he closed his eyes for just a moment, hoping to stop the whirling of his mind.

Laughing princesses populated his dreams. He kept chasing them, but they were always just out of reach. Every time he made a grab for one, she slid away, golden hair blowing through his fingers…just missed.

When he woke, he was lying in bed, fully clothed. He groaned. He didn’t care to sleep without disrobing more. He always felt stiffer in the morning when he didn’t, and he had a long day ahead. He needed to go back to Grizelle, tell her he’d take on her quest, and get the cloak.

No help for it. He got up, stretching, then splashed some water on his face from the pitcher on the table. As he packed up his bags, he felt something that didn’t feel quite right. Digging into the bottom of the bag, he found the cloak. It was wrapped once more in the cloth that it had been in when Grizelle first brought it out.

“You sneaky, sly old woman,” he said aloud, with a mixture of admiration and annoyance. She knew he’d not be able to stop thinking about it—had she ensured it? And somehow, she’d gotten the cloak into his bag. It was destined. He had no choice but to do as she’d asked.

He repacked the bags, still bemused at how clever she’d been. Then he went down to eat and start the journey to the court of King Aland and the cursed princesses.

He was the only guest in the taproom, and he ate quickly. Now that his course was decided, he was eager to be on his way. He settled with the keeper and went to the stable to find his horse.

Roysten was there, leaning against the wall of the stable.

“Why are you still here? You left last night! It’s of the utmost import that Lord Maddox get my letter!” He couldn’t believe the man had defied a direct order.

Roysten lazily pushed himself off the wall. “Been there. And back. Fine bit of riding, if I do say so myself.”

“You’ve…what?” Hadden knew his mouth was gaping open.

“Should’a seen Maddox. Read your letter, and went red as a turkey. Threw an inkpot at me, cursed like my mother would hate to hear, kicked at the page, and then told me to hie myself back and accompany you.”

“You’re lying,” Hadden said flatly. “He did no such thing.”

“Oh, indeed he did, Commander High-and-Mighty. He knew you’d try and toss me over, so he sent this for you.” He held out a sealed letter.

Hadden took it gingerly. It did have Maddox’s seal. He broke it, and scanned the contents. Maddox had been angry when he wrote it—he could tell by the length of it.

You are a fool, and I ought to string you up from the nearest tree. In spite of that, your plan makes sense, as long as the old witch didn’t lie to you. Roysten tells me, which you did not and I did note it, that there is unrest. It is his belief that said unrest decided you on this course.

I give you permission to continue with this mad scheme provided you bring Roysten with you. I know the court, and you’ll need an ally.

When you return, expect to answer for your actions. Good luck.

“What did he tell you?” Hadden looked up from the letter.

“He was most uncomplimentary regarding your intelligence, your parentage, your sanity, and a number of other attributes. Once he’d finished detailing them, he told me you’d inform me of our mission, and that I was to keep watch on you at all times. So,” Roysten looked indecently cheerful. “Where are we off to that caused the best display from our lord commander I’ve seen in some time?”

“We’re going to Gallivas. To the court. I’m going to solve the riddle of the princesses.”

Now it was Roysten’s turn to gape. “No wonder Maddox went mad! You’re mad!”

“Let’s get started, and you can yell at me on the way,” Hadden said, clapping Roysten on the shoulder as he went into the stable. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was immensely pleased to not be taking this on alone. The thought that he’d have Roysten with him cheered him more than anything else could.