Hearts in Cups (29 page)
He was startled by her
perception and unaccountably disconcerted by it. "They are creatures
rarely seen," was his response. A sudden longing possessed him to end the
audience and be alone with his thoughts. Abruptly he said, "You may now
return to the rooms that have been assigned to you. You are both free to walk
about the city as you will. As you have observed, there is a rule of silence
that is kept by all who live here. Speaking is only permitted in one's own
room, at the communal dining halls or in gardens such as this. I enjoin you to
not disturb the other inhabitants of the citadel. Food and anything else that
you might need will be brought to you in your rooms. Rest now from your
journey; I will send for you in three days time and you shall know my
answer."
The prince breathed
easier after the duchess and her paxman had retired from the garden. His mind
was clouded; thoughts and emotions swirled about him. Things that he had
assumed to be expunged from his soul were proving to have only lain dormant.
"I am of two
minds, it seems, about my future." Brian ap Gryffyd stood pensively
looking out of the window, his back towards his mentor and friend.
The voice that spoke
was cool and gentle, but showed no intention of placating him. "You are
not of two minds, but with one mind see two paths. I believe that you know what
you shall do, but you are reluctant to set your foot upon that path, for the
choice is irrevocable once you do."
Brian turned away from
the window, his face rueful. "I thought that my course was fixed when I
returned here."
"No," the
head of the diminutive figure, seated comfortably on the floor, shook in
admonishment. "When you left the courts of your father, you left many
things open and unsaid. You did not alter your destiny. And now it has come to
claim you." Oisan's bright eyes followed Brian's movements benevolently.
"And the
snowcat?" Brian stopped his pacing.
"The snowcat is
but a symbol, one of many. Perhaps it did lead them here; the path is not
accessible to all who put their feet on it. The ring, the arcane crystal, the
snowcat: all have combined to bring your choice to you." A thin, timeworn
hand sketched a graceful movement in the air. "There are two yokes before
you, you can only shoulder one of them."
Brian came and sat down
before Oisan. "Yes, there are two yokes. One I would willingly continue to
wear, for it is well-known and easy to accept. The other involves the opening
of old wounds and involving myself in a world that I have rejected."
"Ah, but it has
not rejected you. In fact, it comes in search of you." There was much
humour in the observation. More soberly, "You have grown much since you
arrived here. When you first came, you were angry and unhappy with yourself.
Having endured much hardship as a captive, you returned to your home thinking
that such ill-treatment had made you wise. It had not. And, when you found
yourself still unable to take up the burdens expected of you, you came
here."
Brian bowed his head in
acknowledgment. "Living here has healed the anger and pain that I carried
home with me. Yet I have remained because here I have had the liberty to live
my life without the constraints of my birth. To return to the Pentarchy is to
involve myself again in those things that I fled," Brian said with a
degree of agitation. "They have come with my father's crown and expect me
to now wear it."
"Such headgear can
be heavy," Oisan agreed.
The prince flicked a
smile at the old one. "I cannot envision myself engaging in the petty
games and trivialities that my father called "statecraft." I was not
able to submit to it when I was younger, and I will not now."
"But you are no
longer the youngster who ran away. You understand the burden of your own self
and you have learned to govern that self. However, you have erred if you think
that this world is the only true world of worth. What you are and what you have
learned will not vanish if you leave." Oisan's hand reached out and
lightly touched the prince's. "Acceptance, in the end, is the only true
way, because once the game has been set in motion it will go on whether you
will or no."
"You counsel me to
leave then?"
Oisan chuckled, the
sound of dry leaves rustling in the wind. "No, no, I do not point in any
direction. The choice is solely your own. If you wish to stay here, nothing
will prevent it. I only voice what you will not say aloud. Go now and decide in
your own heart which way you will proceed. And fear not, since whatever you
choose to do will be the right choice."
Back in the dormitory
room assigned to her, Hollin and Daffyd sat together eating their noontime
meal. The duchess was pensive and withdrawn after her interview with the
prince, and they ate mostly in the silence that permeated the city. Daffyd,
aware of Hollin's status of being formally betrothed to the prince, was
privately of the opinion that the prince had shown a less than expected
enthusiasm when confronted by his affianced bride. He felt rankled by the
prince's indifference and affronted for his mistress. He had grown exceedingly
fond of Hollin and anything that might hurt her was a personal grievance to
him. Hollin glanced up and found Daffyd staring at her with a look of deep
concern.
Mustering a smile, more
in the eyes than the mouth, she remarked, "It seems that our presence and
our news is not to be greeted with the eagerness that we might have
hoped."
"Prince Brian did
seem a bit distant," Daffyd ventured. "Perhaps it was merely because
he was surprised."
"He did not seem
to me to be so much surprised as to be a man faced with something unpleasant
that he has been avoiding," she replied acerbically.
Daffyd studied his
right hand as he asked, "Have you thought about what is to happen if he
refuses to return with us?”
Hollin sighed as she
considered this question, the same that she had been toying with in her own
mind since the interview with the prince had concluded. The situation in the
Pentarchy was far too critical to have a weak or disinterested leader. She had
not yet admitted to the disappointment she had felt at the prince's appearance
and his evident coolness. She now faced the realization that she had built
expectations that were not to be filled. The vague picture she had carried and
elaborated in her mind was of a much comelier and younger man, eager and ready
to return and take his father's place. The man she had met was older, plainer
and not all eager to become a king. A feeling of defeat pervaded her mind.
"I don't know. I
suppose that if he will not come with us, then we shall return on our own and
tell the council of his decision. But," she tried to dispel her gloom,
"he has three days during which he may contemplate the situation, and
perhaps in the end he will come round." She shrugged in resignation and
Daffyd nodded sympathetically. What she did not say, could hardly face herself
after all of her exertions in getting here, was that the thought of returning
to the Pentarchy to the marriage of state that she would then be compelled to
undertake was almost more than she could bear.
An adequacy of
nourishing food and a warm shelter to sleep in did much to revive the bodies of
the Duchess of Langstraad and her paxman. To ease the tension as they waited
for the prince to make his decision known they took to going on long, rambling
walks through the city and out to the terraced gardens and fields beyond the
city's enclosure. Most often they went out together, the woman, wrapped in her
own thoughts, followed closely by her guardian shadow; but occasionally Daffyd
walked alone.
Those inhabitants of
the city that they met smiled or nodded politely to them but, aside from those
who brought them food and filled their braziers with coals, no one bespoke
them. The city was a contemplative refuge and those who lived within it
followed a monastic rule.
The prince was notable
in his absence. He was neither seen nor heard from, either on the day they met
him nor on the following day. The strange, elderly being who had first welcomed
them to the citadel was also not seen again. Daffyd questioned one of the
people who brought their food and found that Oisan was venerated as a sage,
though not their spiritual leader. In fact, there seemed to be no one person
who could be designated the leader, spiritual or secular.
While they had the
opportunity, and to assuage their boredom, both Daffyd and Hollin used this
time to wash and reorganize all of their possessions. With or without the prince,
they would be making a long return journey. Hollin was disinclined to speak
about what was so clearly on her mind, so they confined their speech to present
trifles. After their evening meal on the second day, Hollin took a walk alone
while Daffyd mended one of the straps of his pack. He had quickly offered to
put the mending away and accompany her, but she dissuaded him. Nothing in the
least untoward had occurred while they had been guests in the city, and her
safety seemed well assured. Convinced that she really did want to be alone,
Daffyd acquiesced and she went out by herself.
The walls of the city
were stained with the colours of the sunset and threw long shadows across the
streets. Hollin wended her way in a desultory fashion to the edge of the citadel,
where she could look over the wall and down the mountain's sides into the
westering sun. The buildings here were set back from the wall so that there was
a semicircular area of paved stones between the buildings and the low wall.
There was no one about, most of the inhabitants having gathered in the common
refectories for their evening meal, and she was free to sit unobserved on the
edge of the wall and let her mind wander over the vast distances that spread
out and were absorbed by shadows below. Surrounding her was a heaviness of a
quiet that was almost palpable. Every sound, even the rustle of cloth or the
buzzing of a fly, was disconcertingly amplified.
Slowly the sky drained
of colour and subtle greys and blues climbed the mountains and descended from
the sky to bring twilight to the world. Still Hollin sat and brooded. She
thought of those she had left behind: Percamber, Colin and Dinea, her fellow
peers of the Pentacle Council with their varying plots and ambitions, those men
and women whom she had last seen lying dead and dying in the foothills of the
Slakestone Pass, and, dear to her heart, she thought about her cousin, Ian. Was
he now installed as Duke Regent? How was he faring in a role that he professed
not to want? She had judged him fit and able to act as her surrogate should she
die; but was he truly capable, or had she let her heart sway her judgment? The
Duchy of Langstraad was her trust and responsibility, and one that she had
always taken most seriously. She fervently hoped that her trust was not
misplaced and that he had the strength and ability to protect and defend what
she had bequeathed to him.
So much rested on
Prince Brian’s eventual decision. This place that he had come to was strange to
her eyes and her upbringing. There was an unreal quality to the location and
the people who dwelt here. It was not that she saw evil here; on the contrary,
evil seemed to be impossible to even conceive of here, let alone actually
exist. But, corollary to that appraisal, was the feeling that good, active
good, was also impossible here. This was a passive world and she was an active
person. Much was made clear to her in that rush of insight. She now understood
her own discomfort, despite the obvious reassurance of this place. She did not
belong here and neither did Daffyd. The problem was whether Prince Brian
belonged in this world or the one that had given him birth. Something she had
seen, barely glimpsed, in his face had given her hope, but then what she
thought she had seen was, more than likely, only a projection of her own hopes.
The conundrum could not be solved by her; this much she did know. She stood up,
aware that she had been sitting for too long and that if she did not return
soon a worried Daffyd would come looking for her. The first stars were becoming
visible as she started back to her room.
The summons came late
in the afternoon of the third day, and the duchess was bid to come alone to the
pavilion. The afternoon was pleasant, with the hint of a breeze freshening the
air and bestirring the warmth that radiated from stones which had spent the day
in the heat of the sun. Hollin had tried to eliminate most of the wrinkles and
stains in her clothing but was aware that her appearance was still far more
shabby than she would have liked. Only the jeweled pins in her hair and the
great ruby ring on her hand echoed the former splendour of her attire. As she
followed yet another robed back to this meeting, she found herself eager to
hear what his final decision would be, though she feared it as well.
Prince Brian was
standing at the foot of the pavilion as she slowly crossed to where he stood
and made him a dignified curtsey. Holding forth his hand, he escorted her up
the stairs and seated her, as before, facing him. Today the hood of his robe
was off his head, though the revealed face was as unreadable to her as if he
wore a mask. A woven mat with a pot and two cups was set between them. The
smell of herbs and a mirage of heat emanated from the glazed pot.