A TASK IS LAID OUT
“No, Lord Duncan.”
Duncan stared.
Brien, thane of Lochlann, stood before him, his thin face implacable. He stood against the high window, his posture still upright despite his advancing age, white hair brushed to smoothness down his back. He was unbending.
“But, my lord...” Duncan began.
“I will brook no argument, young man.” The voice was firm. “I have explained to you my reasoning. That will be sufficient.”
Duncan swallowed. He wanted to shout at this man, to rail against his unreasonable words. However, Brien, thane of Lochlann, was a respected lord, head of a powerful fighting force and also Duncan's brother Broderick's strongest ally. He was also the only route for Duncan to wed Alina. He could not afford to offend him, in any sense.
“My lord, I have not said I disagree,” he said at last. “But I may say that I find your ruling to be...inequitable,” he supplied cautiously.
“Inequitable?” the old man gave a harsh laugh. “Who said policy must be equitable, young man?”
Duncan stared at him. His own father was fair, first and foremost. He taught that leadership required fairness, or people would cease to listen to their lord and learn to disrespect him. He appreciated anew the wisdom in his father's argument.
“I have risked my life,” he said in a choked whisper. He had risked it to save Alina, not in the service of this man, and he would do it again, a thousand times, without thought. Nevertheless, Lord Brien's words were unfair – he could not doubt that.
“As I am aware,” the old man said airily. “And so, I ask you to risk it again. What matter?”
Duncan blinked. He could not believe what the man was saying! He must be entirely insane. “But...but these tasks you set are madness!”
The old man laughed, sounding genuinely amused. “I have been accused of many things, young man. Impassivity, cruelty, even...what was it?...inequity,” he added wryly. “But never of having taken leave of my wits. I am in full possession of them. And these tasks are not insane.”
“But...”
“Find the sword that was taken. Return it. Find the pearl that was lost and ask the question that has been left unsaid. Do it and you shall wed Alina.”
Duncan stared at him. This was wild. This was like something from the tales of ancient times. He was not an ancient prince and this was not the age of magic. He could not do it.
“I cannot do this.”
The old man shrugged. “As you wish,” he said. He turned around and walked to his desk. “Leave, then. I am weary. I must finish my tasks of husbandry...castles do not maintain themselves, you are aware?”
Duncan sighed. “Certainly, my lord.”
“Good,” the old man said firmly. He reached for a quill and looked down at a ledger. Duncan was, to all purpose, made invisible.
Duncan sighed again. He ran a hand through his tawny hair, feeling the bitterest defeat. He looked up at the old man, but he was working steadily, checking his steward's work. He would not interrupt him and risk his ire.
He walked quietly out, his footsteps echoing in the quiet space of the office.
He headed downstairs. He felt as if his heart had been encased in lead. It was dark, the night settling on the castle. He was tired, weary, and utterly lost.
He walked despondently through the hallway, past the great hall where the men were settling on the benches, preparing for the dinner, and out into the courtyard where the men-at-arms had, not a few minutes ago, been practicing with sword, spear, and wrestling.
He should have joined them. He should not be here. He should, he realized now, have listened to Alina.
He should have learned that months ago. Alina knew things. He should have respected that. He sank down on a stone bench at the edge of the practice ground. He breathed in the scents of lavender and dark.
“Why don't I run away?”
He sighed. It was a good idea. It was the only solution left. If he was not given leave to wed, he could run. He could take Alina with him. They could flee and reach sanctuary in some other territory where Lord Brien, thane of Lochlann, held less influence. They could live there, as outlaws, content with each other.
He shook his head. He could not do that. First, he could not do that to Alina. He did not want to condemn her, or himself, to a life of hiding, moving from place to place, pursued and living like ghosts, without a home, unwanted. He had not wished that for them. He could not do that to his brother. He would destroy the alliance that Broderick had maintained. Though he loved his wife, Amabel, Alina's sister, Broderick had married for the advantages the allegiance brought. The fact that they loved each other more than life had come second. He sighed.
“I cannot run. I have to do these tasks, or die in the attempt.”
He felt miserable. He found his head was filled with images of himself dying in creative ways. He shook his head. It was not like him to dwell on darkness and despair. Broderick always teased him about being infernally cheerful about everything. Which he was. Usually.
“Evenin', his grace the thane o' something.”
Duncan looked back from where he had gazed at the dark skies. He found himself looking into a young, impish face, framed with dark-brown hair.
“Oh. Evening, Blaine.”
Blaine was the chief of the guard at Lochlann castle. It was uncanny, since the youth was only nineteen years old. However, Broderick, with whom he had campaigned a few months ago, insisted that the young man had a profound talent. Duncan knew Broderick, sober and grounded, was not given to exaggerations. The boy must be as skilled as he reported.
“You lookin' at the sky, sir?” the youth asked impudently. “Lost summat up there?”
Duncan sighed and ran a hand through his pale hair, distractedly. “I'll skelp ye and send ye up to find out, so I will.”
Blaine giggled. A cheeky, disrespectful young man, he liked nothing better than to be bested in a battle of tongues. Broderick had gained his respect. Duncan was starting to do the same.
“Well, then, thane something,” he smiled. “You joining us for practice tomorrow?”
“I'll do so tomorrow,” Duncan agreed readily. “I was just thinking.”
“What's the problem?” Blaine asked. He sat on the ground before the bench, long legs bent and resting his arms casually on them.
“It's not something I can burden you with,” Duncan said primly.
“Summat wrong with your lady? Or...summat else?” he asked, eyes straying to Duncan's nether regions.
Duncan stared at him. Then he burst out laughing. “Blaine! Heaven help me but you are a scoundrel. No, that's functioning well. Was last time I looked, anyways.”
Blaine giggled at Duncan's casual attitude and then stopped laughing. “It must be summat serious.”
“It is,” Duncan agreed. He sighed. He needed help. If the strange mystery made sense, perhaps Blaine, who lived here since birth for all he knew, would know the meanings.
“What is it?”
Duncan sighed again. “It's Lord Brien. I...wish to wed Lady Alina. As you know.”
“As half the castle knows,” Blaine agreed. “The half that's not so barmy they think rats fly.”
Duncan chuckled wearily. “Quite, Blaine. Though I don't think we have any of those...”
“We do!” Blaine insisted. “They do swear it. Witches, apparently. Flyin' about in odd disguises. So they tell me in the fields, anyways.” he shook his head, chuckling tiredly.
“Well, dispensing with the problem of flying rats,” Duncan said, smilingly, “I have a problem which may seem bizarre.”
“Bizarre?”
“Odd. Like rats flying.”
“Oh! Not you, too...”
“No.” Duncan smiled. “I promise I'm not going to tell you about flying rats. But I was speaking to the thane earlier, and he insisted he would not let me wed Alina.”
“What?” Blaine was outraged. “But...my lord! She loves you an' you, her!”
Duncan smiled. “Yes, quite so. But Lord Brien did not refuse me outright. He laid three tasks out.”
“Three tasks? What?” Blaine blinked. “Who does he think you are?”
“I know,” Duncan said wearily. “I'm not some hero or saint. I can't do it.”
“Mayhap you can,” Blaine said firmly. “Don't give up now.”
Duncan grinned at him. “You are right, Blaine. I am cowardly.”
Blaine gave him a stiff glance. “No, lord. You're not. We all saw your wounding from Lord Thomas. You're no' cowardly. But these tasks?”
“They make no sense, Blaine.”
“Mayhap they do,” Blaine shrugged. “I've seen lots a' things as makes no sense, but in the end they turn out to be clear’s river water. What'd he say?”
“He said this.” Duncan frowned, trying to remember. “He said: find the sword that was stolen and return it. Find the pearl that was lost. Ask the question unsaid. That was it,” he added, thinking back over the list.
Blaine was looking blank. “No, no idea.” he said at length. “All nonsense tae me.”
“Well, I think so, too,” Duncan agreed.
“Alina might know,” Blaine suggested after a moment. “She's wise. Chrissie says she's the cleverest person she ever did see,” Blaine said, impressed. “And Chrissie's clever. She can read.”
Duncan sighed. Blaine had his own woes – chief of which was his undying affection for Chrissie Connolly, Alina's youngest cousin. The girl was beyond him in status, anyone could see that. He was a soldier, a man-at-arms, captain of the guardsmen. Brien's ambition was boundless. He would never let his niece wed a mere guard. If Duncan was irredeemable, Blaine was twice so.
“That is a good idea,” Duncan agreed softly. “Except for one thing.”
“Oh?” Blaine was round eyed. “What is it?”
“Alina asked me not to ask him. On pain of risking death.”
Blaine chuckled. “She said that?” He looked at him. “I'd listen if I was you. She might be reed thin but the lady's got a tongue that could curse you to eternal fire, so I heard.”
“Oh?” Duncan was surprised. People believed she could curse? He hoped they chose to keep that belief quiet. Some whispers of Alina being a witch would not help anyone. “Well, I don't think she intended to kill me.”
“No?” Blaine sounded disappointed. “Who, then?”
“I think she was warning me,” Duncan explained. “I should have listened.”
“She thinks you'll die? If you follow her uncle's quest?”
“Yes,” Duncan sighed. “No. I don't know.” He clenched his hands, feeling wretched. He didn't know. All he knew was that he had been given three tasks, all of which were meaningless and so impossible to accomplish.
“Well,” Blaine said somberly. “If there's a sword, there's fighting. And if there's fighting, I can help. So, I can.”
Duncan looked up. He felt deeply touched. He reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “Thank you, Blaine. I might need to ask you to do just that.”
Blaine bowed his head. “Yes.”
“Yes?”
“I'm comin' with you,” Blaine explained. “Any barmy venture you're making, I'm along.”
Duncan breathed out. “Thank you, Blaine,” he said again. “I value that.”
“Pah,” Blaine made a dismissive chuckle. “I'm there fer the fun of it...need tae get outta these walls.” He inclined his head towards the castle walls, looking like an eaglet stretching its wings.
“No, Blaine.” Duncan smiled gently. “You're helping me out of the goodness of your heart.”
Blaine snorted. “I ain't got none o' goodness in me, sir. Grandfather allus said I was a divil.”
Duncan laughed. “Well, if your grandfather was right, then I rather hope I am destined for hell. An army of people like you would be eternal company I'd like.”
Blaine flushed red. He looked up at Duncan, head skew. “Thank 'ee, milord. Same tae you.”
Duncan felt his heart contract. Blaine was an imp, but in many ways he was like a young brother. He reached out and clasped his shoulder once again.
“Well, then, Blaine. To arms,” he agreed. “We will set out in the week.”
“Grand,” Blaine agreed.
Duncan grinned at him and Blaine grinned fiercely back, dark eyes hopeful. Duncan bit his lip. We will set out, he thought, soon. As soon as I understand what it is being asked of me to do.
He sat for a few minutes, listening to the night, smelling the dew and the air. He shook himself, shivering as the night settled. He had left his cloak indoors and, though it was summer, it grew quickly chilly.
“I'll go inside,” he said to Blaine.
“Very well, sir,” Blaine nodded. “I'll go to the armory. Me sword's blunting. See ye tomorrer,”
“Tomorrow,” Duncan nodded.
He strode off into the castle.
He paused at the foot of the steps then, sighing, headed upstairs. He would fetch his cloak and perhaps spend some time in the courtyard. He should exercise. Perhaps that would help him to relax. As he crossed the hallway, heading from his chambers in the west wing towards the courtyard, he heard a soft footfall on the flagstones.
“Duncan?”
He sighed. He knew that silvery soft voice. Alina.
“Yes, dearest?”
His heart ached. He could not tell her. He would not...not yet.
“You went, did you not?” Her voice was level. Unforgiving, flat, expressionless. “You asked him.”
Duncan closed his eyes. He did not know what to say, how to tell her. “Yes,” he said.
He heard her stop walking. Stand where she was. Knew she was looking at him with sadness and despair.
He did not turn round. Hating himself for his inability to face her, to tell her, he turned and walked quickly down the stairs into the gathering dark outside.