Mordraud, Book One (28 page)

One guard got a blow to the head so hard that it sent his eyes from their sockets. He had never come to. Another had a large bluish bruise on his back, and still found breathing hard. Two carters had bandaged heads and talked confusedly.

Deanna hadn’t spoken to a soul till she reached her home, three days later. Instead of dining and resting a while on a real bed, she washed herself again and again all night. She’d only accepted to eat something when forced.

“
Adraman should be here any minute.”

“
Are you glad?!”

“
I don’t know... I feel a bit strange,” she replied, brushing her neck and her white blouse at bust height. She always did that when pensive. As if checking that the thief’s blood had in fact disappeared.

“
You’re missing him...” he whispered, astonished.

“
You’re embarrassing me, stop it! You know I don’t speak to you about such things.”

“
Why not?!”

Mordraud was especially curious to know why. The two of them spoke about everything, except Adraman.

“Because... I don’t.”

“
Hmm! Keep your secrets then!”

Deanna was
as cheerful and flippant as he’d seldom seen her before. “Exactly. A girl has to have her secrets... Didn’t you know?”

“
No, I didn’t. I don’t understand girls,” Mordraud responded, crossing his arms. Behaving like a child could have its privileges. Deanna would never have spoken so much if they’d been the same age. She might not even have wanted to spend time with him.

The cook of the house, an old lady everyone referred to as Adrina in honour of her long service to the Adren family, came out from under the portico calling to Deanna loudly.

“The master’s here! Deanna! Your husband’s arrived!”

“
I have to go! See you later, Mordraud.”

Deanna r
eturned to the house at a brisk pace. ‘She’s an utterly different person...’ thought Mordraud, with a twist of envy. Adraman really was lucky to have such a gorgeous wife.

‘
Forget about it, young man. Besides... I need to talk to him. I have to manage to make him notice me! I rescued his wife... He’ll have to show some gratitude...’

Mordraud rubbed his hands together, envisaging the evening
’s dinner, when they’d all be together. He thought about his brief battle over and over again, trying to savour once more the energy he’d felt surge over him, but the euphoria had faded.

Certainly too soon.

He realised only then that it now tasted of something stale.

“
This ladies’ lifestyle is making me go soft,” he muttered in disgust. “I mustn’t lose sight of...”

Of what,
he pondered. What was he losing and what was he gaining?

‘
Damn it all! What’ve I started thinking about now...?’

A bout of toil would get him back on track. Mordraud rushed to the woodshed behind the house and began splitting a few logs with an old blunt axe. He went on until he heard the bell calling everybody to supper.

As was tradition, the villa’s dining room was decorated to celebrate the arrival of the master of the house. Egg-glazed bread wheels and garlands, bunches of dried flowers, and long coloured canvas bows were all hanging from the walls and metal chandeliers, or placed along the length of the central table, together with flasks of wine. As customary, Adraman was supposed to prepare the food with the servants, and would serve the first helpings himself. A decades-old custom introduced by his grandfather to celebrate the coming of the warmer season.

Adraman reached the estate exhausted by a journey without rest. The stable-lad hadn
’t managed to take his horse in time before he was already in the house and calling Deanna at the top of his voice. As soon as he saw her appear at the head of the stairs, he ran to her and kissed her passionately. She did nothing to avoid the kiss. They held each other tightly for a good while, teetering on the top step, until all the weariness he’d built up during his frenzied haste caught up with him. The cavalryman swayed frighteningly and grasped at the wrought iron banister, gently slipping to the ground to appease his shattered legs.

“
You need to freshen up. Come... we’ll go to the bedroom.”

Adraman had never heard his wife talk in such a kind and gentle voice. He obeyed in silence, still stunned by his excess of emotions. The servants had watched everything from the floor below, and when they saw the couple disappear through the doorway, they shook each other
’s hands, smiling with joy. Mordraud joined in the celebrating, but with much less enthusiasm than his fellow staff. He was unaccustomed to seeing Deanna at Adraman’s side, next to another man that wasn’t him.

“
I have to stop it, I have to...” he mumbled with a gloomy expression, as he poured himself a generous glass of red wine. He drank it down without breathing, and filled up another straight away. And then another.

‘
There, that’s better,’ he muttered to himself, nodding numbly. ‘That’s what was needed.’

“
And what do we do now?!” Vosco, one of the stable-hands, asked the others. “Should we wait for the master? Should we start preparations?”

“
There’s no hurry... We can wait an hour or two,” replied Adrina, the cook. Of all those present, she was the oldest and the closest to the Adren family, and her word was law.

Mordraud huffed without being noticed and went outside, carrying one of the bottles. The silence of the portico at sunset would guide him to clearer ideas.

It was actually the wine that helped him. Mordraud wasn’t used to drinking, except when Deanna asked the waiter for a glass of liqueur after dinner. Larois had occasionally caught him hiding a couple of tankards of beer while working, but back then he just wanted to be a bit like the army men who spent their evenings getting drunk and telling gruesome stories. The memory made him smile broadly, and it became ever more amusing with each new sip from the bottle. The sunlight was fading at the horizon, tingeing the countryside in a strong red.

“
It’s so lovely here... We couldn’t see the sunset, or the dawn, from our house.”

“
And what could you see?”

Mordraud was startl
ed and wobbled on the bench, going close to falling to the floor and feeling silly. He hadn’t heard Adraman approach under the portico.

“
Sir... I didn’t realise you...”

“
Don’t worry, lad,” he said with a smile, pointing to the empty part of the bench. “Can I sit with you for a moment?”

“
Of course... There you are...”

He
’d certainly drunk too much. The simple action of creating a bit of space at his side made his head spin dangerously.

“
Aren’t you hungry? The servants were waiting for you.”

“
They can wait a little longer,” the captain replied cheerfully. “I wanted to talk to you, alone.”

Mordraud straightened out his brown shirt nervously, trying to re
call if he’d washed after cutting the wood. No he hadn’t, going by the woodchips caught up in the weave.

‘
Great: drunk and dirty as well,’ he thought, frantically.

“
Don’t worry, I’m not here to reprimand. Quite the contrary – I wanted to thank you, Mordraud... with all my heart.”

“
For what?!”

“
And you have to ask?”

He
’d never looked at Adraman from so close up. He wore on him all the marks of the front, of a life tormented by troubles and decisions to make. His hair was speckled with white and parched by the elements. Yet with that scarlet light blanketing everything, his imperfections and his age seemed to disappear.

“
You saved Deanna! And they tell me you killed one of the marauders!”

“
Two...” he replied, automatically. The one with the chewed neck was his by right, even if he didn’t see him die.

“
Really?!”

“
Yes. The first one, who pulled me out of the carriage, should be counted too. I bit a chunk out of his throat...” Mordraud’s eyes bulged as he listened to what his voice was saying. “Well, it was only a small bite, a tiny one... I was lucky... I didn’t know what else to do...”

“
You certainly don’t have to make excuses for yourself! Who knows what those pigs would have done to my wife if it hadn’t been for you!”

“
They’d have had to kill me before touching Deanna.”

The sentence came out on its own, ushered by the wine and the echo of anger. Adraman ruffled his hair roughly but with much affection.

“I’ll take your word for it! So now let’s come to the point.”

“
What’s that, sir?”

“
Firstly, you should no longer call me
Sir
. I’m Adraman to you from now on.”

“
Okay, S... Adraman.”

“
Excellent. Now, tell me what you would like in exchange for what you did. Anything.”

Adraman was kneeling
in front of him and was staring in expectation, without the least trace of mockery in his eyes. Mordraud stammered something, embarrassed and muddled.

“
Go on, be bold. You have my soldier’s word of honour.”

“
I want to fight with the rebels!”

It was his moment. When would he e
ver get another chance like that?

Adraman stopped for an instant, staring at him in silence, and Mordraud was afraid he
’d said something immensely idiotic. But he couldn’t back out now.

“
I ask you to express a wish... and you want to go to war? I would have expected the opposite perhaps,” the captain exclaimed in astonishment.

“
I’ve been thinking about it for years, and I train every day. I’m strong enough to handle a sword... and I’d like to see Cambria in flames!”

Adraman stretched his hand towards him without uttering a word.

“Go on, squeeze it!”

Mordraud obeyed, and the cavalryman closed his fingers round it at once. He had the strength of a blacksmith
’s vice. Mordraud yelped in pain, but held out stoically. Adraman pulled the arm, dragging Mordraud towards him.

“
If you can’t free yourself from my grip, then you’re not ready to fight.”

Mordraud began tugging, first with one arm and then with both, but even when he dug his toes into the ground it seemed as if his hands were trapped within a boulder. Adraman was breathing normally, while he was panting and gritting his teeth.

“You’re still too young. You’ll have to wait a year or two.”

Mordraud
’s hand was touching his chest at heart-height. “When you manage to free yourself, then I will see to granting your wish... even though I don’t want to.”

“
You gave me... your word... a soldier’s word,” murmured Mordraud, still busy pulling in despair.

“
I know, and I almost regret it. I certainly didn’t expect such an absurd request.”

“
You’ll see, I’ll manage it.”

Adraman suddenly let go, and Mordraud flew backwards, falling heavily onto the bench. The sunset had now faded entirely, and the portico was cloaked in the first darkness of the evening.

“Let’s go inside now. They’ll all be worried – and there’s a dinner to prepare!”

They moved towards the door together, Adraman calm and smiling, Mordraud squeezing his hand with the other, seeking
its relief. The officer still had his arm folded over his chest. ‘I didn’t think he’d be so strong,’ he considered in surprise. ‘I tricked him with the age limit... but he’s right that he’s ready for a sword. He is, nearly.’

“
What were you saying earlier? You were talking about your home,” he began, to distract Mordraud.

“
Yes... I was saying I’d never seen such a lovely sundown. You couldn’t see the sunset where I was born... same for the dawn.”

“
So what could you see?!” Adraman asked.

“
The night,” replied Mordraud, lifting his eyes towards him.

“
You could see the night clearly.”

***

Like in a dream. One of the many that filled his nights at the front, while he waited for the enemy forces to show their intentions. The fantasy he clung to, so as not to drown in the battlefield’s sea of mud.

Deanna was stretched out beneath him, her legs clenching his hips. And she was moaning. He
’d never heard her moan – at least not with pleasure. Just a few fake murmurs, for courtesy’s sake.

“
Slowly... Wait a little longer...”

It wasn
’t like in a dream. It was even better. Adraman shut his eyes and focused on his body. There was no need to hurry. Not like all the other times. That moment had to last millennia.