The Fatal Child (24 page)

He was there.

He was there, sitting with his back to the fountain and the bowl curving outwards over his head. His head was sunk onto his chest. He was fiddling with something – some small white thing – in the fingers of his left hand. He did not seem to be aware of them. They crept closer.

He did not look up until they were almost at the fountain themselves. Atti knelt down beside him.

‘Ambrose – what is the matter?’

He gave an impatient gesture. ‘Damn them,’ he said. ‘They don’t know what they are asking of me. Or maybe they do – Sophia should – and yet they want me to do it anyway.’

‘Would they ask if it was not important?’

‘No. They wouldn’t. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to do it.’

‘Why not?’

He sighed. ‘Atti – I don’t like being cold or poor or hungry any more than anyone else does! But what I do here
works
. One of the reasons why it works is because we do live like this. It means nobody wants my place and I don’t have to fight too hard to keep it. And so I can do things the way they need to be done. If I go over there and put myself at the head of the Kingdom, then I would have to start fighting – with laws, taxes, favours, and yes, if it came to it, with swords, too – just to stay on the throne. All kings have to.’

She looked at him thoughtfully. ‘Isn’t that better than another war?’

‘Maybe. Who can say what would happen? But I wouldn’t be doing what needs to be done any more. I’d be part of the problem. That’s what I’m afraid of.’

‘Afraid? How?’

He frowned and looked again at the white thing in his hand.

‘There was a man called Paigan,’ he said at last. ‘He was a brother of Rolfe and the other princes. He told me that if I went to Tuscolo I would die. It was almost the last thing he said to me. And … I’m not afraid of death. But I remember him as he said it – how he looked at me and seemed to know everything I thought and would think and would ever do. I could see myself in his eyes, doing worse and worse, and finally dying a wasted death when all I had ever hoped for was in ruins. Yes, I’m afraid of dying as he saw me
die. Very much.’ He let out his breath. ‘I still dream of him sometimes.’

‘And what happened?’

‘Oh.’ Ambrose gave a short, bitter laugh. ‘We killed him.’

‘So why are you still afraid?’

When he did not answer, she went on softly, fiercely: ‘Ambrose – what have you been telling me? Night after night you wanted me to turn round and see who it was coming through the curtain. Do you know how hard that is? I can’t do it when you’re not there. I can’t do it even when you are. But sometimes I’ve felt that I almost could, because you were there and
I thought you weren’t afraid
.’

She leaned forward and her head was close to his. He turned his face away. But she did not give up. More softly than ever now, she said: ‘How can
I
turn when you will not?’

‘It is not the same thing, Atti!’

‘Isn’t it? Isn’t it exactly the same thing? I have demons. I can’t hide that. But you have them, too. You hide it well but I know what it looks like! And what it feels like! And I know you can’t do it alone.
You
told me that.’

He looked at her sharply in the moonlight. ‘What are you saying?’ he said.

‘You would be a good king, Ambrose. They wouldn’t have come out here if they didn’t think so. I think so, too—’

‘Not that,’ said Ambrose. ‘What are you saying about you and me?’

‘That… that we can help each other.’

‘How?’

She hesitated. ‘By – by showing each other how.’

His voice hardened. ‘And if I don’t go to Tuscolo?’

‘I can’t help you if you do not turn.’

Suddenly he chuckled. ‘Yes, I see. Well done. You’ve neatly dosed me with my own medicine. But …’ He ran his hand through his hair. ‘It isn’t the same. Not really. And yet what you said just then – what you almost said – it nearly changed everything. Do you know why?’

‘Tell me.’

He said nothing for a moment. Then there was a faint click as he put down whatever it was he had been holding in his fingers. Melissa watched, with a slow horror dawning on her. She knew what he was about to do. And he did it.

He reached across and took Atti’s hand. ‘I’m in love with you,’ he said.

The court was so still that Melissa could almost hear the pulse in her own neck; the dizzy wail in her stomach as it dropped away into nothingness.

‘Ambrose,’ said Atti at last. ‘You must not love me. Don’t love me. You don’t know what I’m like.’

‘I know you better than you think.’

‘You must not!’

‘Atti – don’t you see? If you hate yourself, all your days will be hateful. But if you let yourself be loved, you will be lovely – I swear to you! Atti, you
must
let yourself be loved. And you must love, too.’

‘I don’t love anyone.’

‘Said without thinking! But without love the soul dies. Think, Atti. I’ve looked into your eyes so many times. And you have into mine. You need power to beat your demons. Love is a power. Love is the best power there is. Do you love me? Could you love me?’

Atti looked down at the hand that had taken hers, as if she did not understand what he had done.

She’ll take it away, thought Melissa. She won’t let herself be held.

As the moments lengthened, Melissa thought: She’ll wait a little. She’ll talk about something else. Then she’ll slip it out of his fingers. She’ll do it as soon as she thinks she can.

Atti was still looking down. Melissa could see she was frowning slightly, as if she were debating something with herself. The face of the man was hidden in the shadow.

‘You asked me for justice once,’ said Ambrose. ‘I could not give it to you then. If – if we went together – perhaps I could give you all you were asking for.’

Went?
thought Melissa in mounting horror. Went where? He’s not going off to be King after all, is he – for her?

Atti had still not taken her hand from his. ‘You must not do it because of that,’ she murmured.

‘No,’ said Ambrose. ‘It’s a bad reason. But I’ll do it to face my fears – if you could love a man who was able to do so.’

She lifted her face to his. ‘Ambrose – I don’t know. I think I could try. But…’

‘But?’

‘But yes,’ she said in a rush, as if something within her had given way. ‘Yes, let’s go.’

‘You are sure?
He
would be there – Padry. Had you thought of that?’

‘He’s nothing. It’s not him, now. He doesn’t bother me any more.’

‘That’s good.’

They were silent in the moonlit court under the dry fountain, holding hands with their heads bowed together as if it were the only thing they ever wanted to do. Melissa saw Atti look up at Ambrose. She saw the wondering look in her eyes. Then his head came forward slowly and hid hers.

They kissed one another lightly, and looked, and kissed again. The air was so still that Melissa could hear the sound of a night bird, hooting away in the olive groves below the outer walls. She could hear the scrape of a sentry’s foot as he shifted at his post somewhere in the castle. She heard the murmur of voices within the hall and the clinking steps of an armoured man coming closer.

The man was coming into the fountain court.

Ambrose and Atti looked up. Their hands parted. Atti rose to her feet as the newcomer emerged from the black maw of the hall.

It was the man Caw, the captain of the intruders.

‘I have one more message for you, my lord.’

‘Yes?’ said Ambrose coldly.

‘It is from Orcrim.’

‘I thought he was dead!’

‘He is – these past three months. But I spoke with
him in his illness, and I was there when his mind turned to your father and to you. He said there had been only one thing in the way of your father being such a king as he should have been. It was that he wanted the Crown too much. Orcrim hoped we should one day be ruled by a Tarceny who had not wanted the Crown at all.’

For a moment Ambrose said nothing. Then he sighed. ‘Very well,’ he said, and got slowly to his feet. ‘I will come. You may tell them I will come to Tuscolo, Caw.’

‘Good – Your Majesty.’

‘Rolfe?’ said Ambrose suddenly.

‘I am here,’ said a deep voice in the shadows of the colonnade. Melissa jumped.

‘You have taken your time,’ said Ambrose.

‘I came when I heard you call.’

‘I need you for something else now. You must go to my mother and ask her to come to me. I have things to tell her.’ And he took Atti’s hand, and drew her to his side. ‘They are important.’

‘I will go,’ said the voice from the shadows.

The voice was followed by silence.

Still holding Atti by the hand, Ambrose walked from the fountain court. Caw fell in with them. As they passed her, Melissa heard him mutter: ‘A word of advice – Your Majesty.’

‘What is it?’

Caw jerked a thumb over his shoulder to where Rolfe had been. ‘There must be none of
that when
we are east of the lake.’

* * *

And so it was all going to change again, thought Melissa dully.

She stood in the moonlit court, looking at the bowl of the fountain where Ambrose and Atti had been.

Two years in the mountains, among the great valleys and the high, clear peaks. Two years as Atti’s companion: Atti, watching bird-like as Melissa ground small quantities of grain, because she had known that she must take a turn at it and did not know what to do. Atti, shivering beside her under the same blanket during the winter nights. Atti, smiling that smile which was as rare as honey-drops when Melissa showed her … (What? Some little trick of living that grand ladies never learn; like gutting a fish, but it hadn’t been that. The moment was gone. Only the smile was unforgotten.)

And Ambrose.

Melissa thought how eagerly he had talked of the new families that would come. Of getting the gate mended. Of the new winch for the well. Now he was going to leave all of it – for her.

Why did he love
her?

Oh, of course Atti looked wonderful – almost always. She spoke wonderfully, too. Melissa knew she could never speak like Atti. And she couldn’t play chess. And she did not have the Face.

But surely that could not be everything!

They would go to Tuscolo. Melissa could not imagine it. It was a big city, she had heard. Bigger than Aclete, she supposed. How many people lived there? Five hundred? A thousand even? She had no idea.
It must be very big if someone like Ambrose dreaded it. Maybe the houses covered the ground just as the forests did here in the March. And maybe there would be carpets and tapestries in the houses, and other things that Atti knew but she did not. There would be other servants, too. Not just her. There would be people like Gadi, who had been servants all their lives and who knew how things should be done. Would Atti even want her as a servant still, when they came to Tuscolo?

What did they think of Melissa? She had been with both of them just now. And they had said all that to each other in front of her. All that. They had spoken like strangers, with words she could not have imagined them using but that must have been there inside them all the time. They had said it all as if she had not been there.

They had not even thought what she might feel about it!

Something shifted in the darkness of the colonnade, close by.

‘Rolfe?’ she said, and found to her surprise that her voice was hoarse.

‘I am here.’

‘Shouldn’t you be on your way? He told you to go.’

‘I stayed for you. I think you are sad.’

‘I suppose so,’ she said.

I suppose so
. That was just what Atti would have said.
I suppose so
. Not
Yes, I am sad
. Not
This is what I feel;
but always the wary answer, so that you never knew for sure what she was thinking. Even just now:
I could try
.

Melissa screwed up her eyes but she could not stop
the tears. She hiccupped. Abruptly she sat down and put her hand to her face.

She heard Rolfe settle on the paving beside her. He was still smaller than a full-sized man should be, but he was very heavy. She felt the paving shift slightly, as if a great weight had pressed upon it.

‘Do you know why you are sad?’ Rolfe asked.

She nodded, speechless.

‘You love him, too,’ he said.

She nodded again.

‘Didn’t know he
loved
her,’ she managed to say. ‘Should have done, I suppose, but…’

‘I am sorry.’

‘He doesn’t look at me!’

Rolfe was looking at her. She could see him at the edge of her sight as she blinked back her tears. His great wide face peered at her from under the cowl he always wore. His big mouth – still far bigger than a man’s should be, although no longer the frog-like satchel that it had been – was set like stone. She could not read his face. But yes, she could feel he was sorry. It helped her a little, feeling that. It helped her to weep some more.

‘Did you ever love anyone?’ she asked after a bit.

‘I think so. It is hard to remember. I think I did not love them as much as I should have done.’

‘Other way round, with me,’ she said. ‘There was a boy in the mountains,’ she went on. ‘He brought us food from the hill village across the valley. We wouldn’t have managed without it. He would smile at me every time. Maybe
he
liked me.’

‘What did he say to you?’

‘Don’t know. I couldn’t understand his talk. He’d say something like “
Pukkalalla
” and he’d point to the food. He always began that way.’

‘Puka halalah
. It means “For the King.” Ambrose is their King, too, you see.’

‘Didn’t know that either.’ She wiped her eyes on her cloak. ‘Looks like everyone wants a piece of him, then.’

‘Yes.’

She sniffed. She drew a long, shaking breath. She looked around at the court. ‘I liked this bit of the house,’ she grumbled. ‘I liked it because there’s a place in the mountain house that’s just the same. Only that one’s got a throne in it, too, and you can see out of one side of it, over the valley.’

‘I know. And in my house there was one also. I had it built when I was prince there. It pleased me, and I never knew there was another like it. Then I came here for my brother’s wedding, three hundred years ago. I walked into this place.’