Chapter Thirty The Maiden and the Stable Girl
CHAPTER THIRTY
The Maiden and the Stable Girl
“It was the will of the Great God, before his death, that you would lead the armies of Eyam.”
“Of course,” said Lord Marius, “I must do my duty.”
No matter what he might prefer, he always did.
Time of Lies, ANONYMOUS
Her lady mother and her brother were devoted followers of the Great Goddess.
Caracalla wasn’t devout, really. She found prayers out on the Great God’s balcony chilly in the early mornings, and disturbing on the days the Divine Order made their sacrifices, while contemplating the single candle flame on the Great Goddess’s feast day was a bore.
She didn’t understand why the Great Goddess didn’t want a whole bonfire.
They lit silverthorn bonfires for the Great God in the capital, her nurse told her.
Caracalla enjoyed the idea of the spectacle, but it didn’t move her heart the way everyone said gods were supposed to.
Caracalla had only ever prayed one prayer she truly meant, and that prayer was always answered. Let my brother come home to me.
The gods might fail, but not Marius.
She sat on the steps hugging her knees and steadfastly ignoring the dead gentleman’s attempts to make conversation.
Master Engus had been summoned for reinforcements.
Finding Caracalla distressed, he placed his chair in her line of sight as he gave the ghoul brief answers.
You must be careful what you said to the dead, lest they construe a careless word as an invitation.
The mindless ghouls could speak your name, nothing more.
It was their only trick. The thinking dead had a hundred tricks.
But Ancilley Manor was well protected against any foe.
Caracalla stared at the icy shimmer on the foundation stone set in the threshold.
The Heart of Ice meant even living souls could not enter or leave, not against the will of a Valerius.
Lord Lucius tapped his cane against the frame of the door and hummed a jaunty tune, to all appearances a well-behaved young lord amiably indulging his hosts’ strange whims. When Marius’s firm unmistakable step echoed in the hall, the dead man’s fire-red head lifted, a predator scenting prey.
The flicker of hunger kindled into a glowing welcome.
“My old friend. Grown even broader with the years! I didn’t think it possible.”
Marius’s gaze was winter ice on the lake, frozen all the way through.
But he responded with a ghost of warmth. “My old friend. The years passed by and left you behind. I’m sorry for it.”
Lucius made a gesture with a hand that was too pale, the slightest bluish tinge about the nails, as if admitting a regrettable inconvenience.
“The gods willed my fate, so I could come to you now and you would listen to me as you always did when we were boys. Glad tidings! The Great God is risen from the abyss. You’re to be greatly honoured.
He calls upon the line of Valerius to attend him, to lead his Divine Order, and serve him as loyally as your line always has. ”
The words were out of an epic adventure, but Lucius’s tone was faintly ironic, as though inviting them to share a joke.
Nobody took the dead man up on his invitation.
“Greatly honoured by the Great God,” sang out the Cobra mockingly. He stood half a step behind Marius, who shook his head slightly in disapproval at the Cobra’s blasphemy, but relaxed at the sound of the Cobra’s voice. Caracalla smiled.
Lucius’s faint smile dropped. “In all seriousness. When the gods call, mortals must answer. Open your heart, Marius, and let the Great God in. Invite him in. Do your duty.”
Marius always did, Caracalla thought.
But, it seemed, not this time.
“You serve a god?” Marius’s tone was dry and doubtful.
Lucius admitted, “I serve myself first. At least invite me inside, Marius. In the name of our old fellowship, you will not be sorry for that.”
The note of appeal rang true. Caracalla remembered how, from only his letters, she’d known her brother liked Lucius the best.
Marius must still like Lucius, for he relented. “Do not venture into the west wing, the east wing or any private chambers unless asked. In the name of our old fellowship, Lucius, I do welcome you.”
The Heart of Ice flared, washing the doorway with silver. As Lucius’s smile spread and he came swaggering over the threshold, waving his cane, Marius added, “But not the god.”
Lucius opened his mouth. Marius’s attention had already shifted elsewhere.
The Cobra moved towards Lucius, as fearless as if he were a warrior with a weapon in hand. “When you died, you were thrown into the abyss. The Great God caught you, and at his touch you woke to life once more. You promised the god you would be useful.”
Lucius’s mouth appeared to have frozen open. It was strange to hear someone gasp without breath. “How do you know this?”
“I read a book,” replied the Cobra. “In the book I read, Marius did lead the armies of Eyam, but Key had already killed his divine father in the abyss, and the thinking dead fell with the Great God. Now the book is changed, and the god lives. Gods can only appear in mirrors, or water, or liminal spaces. So this is the use the god has for you, Lucius. You’re an errand boy. He sent you to fetch Marius.”
Had the Cobra read a book of prophecies that had not come true? A book of false prophecy? Caracalla didn’t think books of false prophecy should be allowed. You wouldn’t know if the future was true or false until it happened. You might as well have no book at all.
She did not like the look the dead man was giving the Cobra.
The Cobra didn’t notice. “Marius. My lady Caracalla. If there was a great secret about your family to be revealed later, would you want to know it now?”
Caracalla nodded eagerly. Marius nodded warily.
The Cobra chewed on his lip, then shrugged.
“Can’t believe I’m about to spoil the big reveal, but here goes.
The First Duke, the founder of your line, was the Great God in disguise.
He went down into the abyss when he could no longer sustain a human form, but before he went, he had an heir.
The Second Duke, followed by the Third Duke, and so was born the line of Valerius.
Whatever he asks of you, consider this. You are not a servant to the god. You are a son.”
Oh. More a great-great-great-however-many-greats-grandson, Caracalla supposed, and she a however-many-greats-granddaughter. Though her own father always made it clear daughters didn’t matter.
She felt almost light-headed with shock. It wasn’t every day you found out you were descended from a god. She found herself immediately worried about who the great god might have had a child with. The legends of their land said the Great God never loved anybody but the Great Goddess.
But you didn’t need to love somebody to have a child.
“If the Great God was the father of our line, who was the mother?”
The Cobra shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t know.”
“I just thought it might matter,” Caracalla whispered.
She must have been the first woman held captive in the manor’s bridal chamber. It seemed as though she should matter, but apparently she did not. The myths of other lands said when gods consorted with mortal women, the women were often unwilling and the children doomed.
Perhaps this explained the great warrior line of Valerius all too well.
The Cobra studied Marius as if Marius was a book. “Silent knight, holy knight.” The Cobra’s voice sounded more tender than amused. “What are you thinking of?”
“Divine wrath,” murmured her brother, in the dull fire-roar of their father’s voice. Caracalla flinched.
The demand from the dead came as sharp as a blade. Lucius’s pale eyes bored into the Cobra. “How do you know all this, sir? Who are you?”
The Cobra smiled faintly. “Nobody of importance.”
Her brother’s next words said that was a lie. Her brother’s next words made the Cobra the most important person in the room.
“Do you wish me to serve the god?” Marius asked. “If you wish me to, I will. If you do not, I will not. Command me.”
Silence echoed through the ancient stones of the Great Hall, as everybody heard the future duke say the words and understood their meaning.
Marius had told Caracalla long ago that one day he hoped to swear the oath of blood and gold to his king.
To have a leader he could trust, as he did not trust himself.
The Cobra answered, “I refuse to command you.” His eyes glittered oddly. “I will not lead you into evil.”
Why was the Cobra talking about evil? Caracalla had no idea, but she saw the result clearly enough, the distance that opened up between them even though neither moved.
As though her brother and the Cobra were embroidered on a tapestry, and a great force was tearing the tapestry in half, with one on either side.
Like a thief darting to pick up the tapestry once it was torn, she saw Lucius seize his opportunity.
“Whoever this man is, clearly he does not understand you, Marius. I know you of old. Let the Great God light the way for you.”
Marius looked again to the Cobra, who snapped: “Do what you want.”
Despite his tone, Caracalla thought it was kind of the Cobra to give Marius permission for that. Her brother hardly ever did what he wanted.
Marius’s face cleared while the Cobra’s face darkened, as if they stood under different skies, when both realized that could be taken as a command.
Marius lifted his head, as though concluding a prayer.
“Then I follow the Great Goddess, like my mother before me. The goddess is the door and the light. I do not call to the abyss from sacred balcony nor lonely cliff edge. I will lead no armies in the Great God’s name.
” He inclined his head towards the Cobra. “Unless the marquis wills it.”
The Cobra’s voice rose. “Leave me out of this!”
Caracalla crossed the floor to her betrothed’s side, shaking her head, shaking all over. She didn’t want the Cobra to take back the implied command.