Chapter Ten The Cobra and the Stable Girl #2
The Cobra had a way with women. Ink gave a sigh of what seemed to be relief, took off her rough cap and loosed her long, wavy hair. Several people around murmured surprised admiration. Marius was surrounded by imbeciles. The large lump of locks hidden beneath the cap had been perfectly obvious.
Ink’s beseeching brown eyes found his. “I hope you aren’t shocked by my unladylike mode of dress, Lord Marius.”
Her piteous look made Marius think of his own sweet sister, though Caracalla would never disgrace her family and outrage the populace by wearing trousers.
Marius owed protection to all vulnerable women. Not simply because of honour, but for his sister’s sake. If Caracalla was ever far from him and in danger, he hoped she would be shielded by someone who lived by the knightly code which bound them to shield the defenceless.
“Rest assured, my lady. I’m accustomed to those who dress in an unusual and startling fashion.”
Eric rolled his eyes at the barb. The Cobra acted as if refusing to wear shirts, donning only a waistcoat and riding breeches, was an appropriate way to attire oneself in the wild woods.
Even though jewellery on men was outlawed, Eric wore gold rings on every finger. Marius permitted himself a small smile.
“M’lord, m’lord Popenjoy.” Captain Diarmat came to their side with a salute. “I’ve posted Callem and Finn as sentries, but should we set a double guard tonight?”
“In case of the dead?” Marius asked sharply.
Captain Diarmat was a guard in a cohort trained by Marius himself. He was a talented man who had risen from the ranks, and loyal. Having betrayed his king, Marius didn’t deserve Diarmat’s continued leal service but was grateful for it nonetheless. He trusted Diarmat’s judgement absolutely.
Diarmat scratched his chin. “Not only the dead. The scouts we sent to market in the village carried tales of bandits.”
Marius sighed. “It needed only that.”
Dark tidings flew faster than crows.
Every day they heard worse. The news of the king’s death had been swiftly followed by word of Octavian’s murderer and usurper, then the usurper’s betrothal.
It would be foolish to blame Eric for his silence on the death of Marius’s king. That was Marius’s guilt to bear. Eric had sworn no vows to Marius. Eric had no reason to care for Marius’s honour. Eric owed him nothing.
Marius couldn’t hate Eric, but he could hate the gutter ruler and his wicked bride.
Eric hummed sympathetically. “Are you brooding about Key again?”
“I am no hen, I do not brood. If he rose from the ravine encircled by flame and awful power, he must be the Emperor and our ruler by right.”
Eric’s eyes glinted. “There’s no such thing as a rightful ruler.”
Marius lost patience and snapped sidelong, for Eric’s ears alone: “There must be such a thing as a more rightful ruler than Key.”
The dishonourable guard of a dishonourable lady, Key didn’t have a divine aspect. Key had the bearing of a thug who cheated at cards. Marius didn’t trust Key with the keeping of the kingdom. Frankly, he wouldn’t trust Key with the reins of his horse.
It now appeared these thoughts were blasphemy.
Marius wrenched his mind from darkly irreligious thoughts about the Emperor to address the lesser but more currently pressing problem of bandits.
He engaged the captain in a discussion about supplementary sentries to be posted, and the reported numbers and last known position of the bandit gang.
Regretfully, Eric felt it necessary to lead Ink away to ensure her safety, into the heart of the group.
Ink stared at Marius and Diarmat over her shoulder as she went, almost tripping over a tree root in doing so. She was a sadly clumsy girl.
Seized by an odd curiosity to see if Eric might also chance to look back, Marius’s eyes followed him. The brightest and loudest thing in the deep dark woods, he waved and called out to friends as he passed. He didn’t look back.
Diarmat cleared his throat. “My lord?”
Marius swiftly returned his attention to the matter at hand. “Double the sentries should suffice, Captain.”
A scream rose like a scared bird from the trees, in the opposite direction whence Eric had gone.
“’Ware the dead!”
Diarmat sighed. “The Emperor’s tears run red, as my gran used to say when it rained hard. She grew up on the Edge of the Cauldron, where they have the extreme weather events.”
“Circle the carts,” commanded Marius. “Find the Marquis. If I am not there, he has command. His voice is my own, and your loyalty must be to him alone.”
The captain nodded. “As ever, my lord.”
“No,” said Marius, startled. “Not as ever. It is different now.”
It was so different that Marius’s understanding had expanded to another world. It was as though the sun had risen, showing new chapters of stories Marius had believed he knew by heart. Everyone else acted as if they were still reading by lamplight.
Ghouls were attacking. Marius couldn’t stay to argue the importance of personal revelations.
He nodded to the captain, strode through the woods and took off a dead head with a single blow.
As the head flew to hit a nearby tree trunk, Marius whirled on the next ghoul, a youth not yet grown when he died, on tiptoe trying to reach a dead rabbit strung up and dangling from a bough.
The dead youth saw Marius, snarled and leaped. Marius skewered him and severed the head while thoughts tumbled through his own head, fitting into a dreadful picture.
A dead rabbit, strung up. Bait for the dead.
To lure Marius towards the ghouls, away from Eric and their people. The ghouls were growing more clever – but this clever?
Marius ran back to the glade. Even the wind couldn’t catch him, screaming in his ears as he outraced it.
He leaped through the trees and landed like a thunderbolt at the heart of his party with his blade bared.
Eric was nowhere in sight, but bandits were in seething evidence on every side.
One ruffian had an elderly man’s money pouch in his hands, the old man crumpled at his feet.
Another bandit was engaged in a knife fight with Eric’s friend Amelia.
Marius pulled that one away from her by the hair, cutting his throat and dropping the body as he sprang for the next.
This gang of malcontents had separated him from Eric, and attacked their people. Marius would kill them all.
He stopped killing only when the blade came to rest sharp against his throat.
A command rang through the glade: “Hold!”
Sheer astonishment made every soul obey. Even the horses stilled, a bandit freezing with stolen reins in his hands.
“If I kill the Last Hope, your way is clear. If I unleash him, you will have a problem. Now I have your attention,” said the voice close by Marius’s ear, “Can we talk?”