The Chosen Prince Part 16

25.

THERE ARE TWO CAMPS, one large and one small.

The main encampment is on the high ground just above the beach. Pyratos has ordered a stand of saplings cut down to make room for his men and all their equipment: tents, trunks, casks, boxes, a table and benches, cooking equipment, and several amphorae of wine. What was once a charming little meadow, surrounded by trees and dotted with tiny bell-shaped flowers, is now a flattened plain of matted gra.s.s, littered with a jumble of gear.

Some distance away from the main camp is a natural clearing in a grove of ancient broad-leafed trees. Here Pyratos has placed his prison camp. It's a simple, uncluttered affair: just six guards with minimal equipment, a man chained to the trunk of a tree, and the man's three attendants, who stay near him.

The tree to which the prisoner is tethered stands at the edge of the clearing, a great old oak, probably six feet in diameter. Its girth offers a bit of privacy, since he and his men have settled themselves on the side that looks away from the camp and into the forest. But unfortunately, it also robs the prisoner of freedom to roam, because the chain to which the manacles are attached is only so long, and most of that length is taken up in encircling the tree.

The guards, a remarkably good-natured bunch, agreed that this was a problem. But it was the only chain they had, meant for use in a ship's cabin, not wrapped around a big tree. They offered to remove one of the iron cuffs if that would help.

The prisoner's physician said this would be a marked improvement. A blanket would also be welcome. The guards were happy to comply.

It's dark now, their first night on the island. The guards have gathered around a little brush fire. They talk in low voices while the prisoner and his men, out of sight behind the tree, listen intently to their conversation.

"We're stuck here, that's the gist of it."

"Nay, I think not. Soon as the fleet reaches port, they'll send out a ship."

"And how will they find us?"

"They'll remember where we parted in the storm; they'll know where to look."

"In this fog?"

"It'll lift. They'll send a ship, and they will find us."

"Would you?" This from another man, who hasn't spoken before.

"Would I what?"

The speaker's voice drops, almost to a whisper. "Send a ship to find Pyratos and bring him back to Ferra?"

This comment is greeted with gasps of surprise and soft, dark laughter.

"Well, you've got a point there. If I were himself"-he leans on the word for emphasis, as if to say, you all know who I mean, but I won't speak his name-"I wouldn't sleep so easy at night. Especially now that we're off here in the wilderness, where if something were to happen, no one would be the wiser."

"Truly-you think there are those among us who would go that far?"

"I do. I've heard their grumbling and their secret-"

"Shhh! What was that?"

"I didn't hear anything."

"A twig snapped, something like that."

"Ooooooh-perhaps there be monsters here."

The others laugh.

"Or a spy, maybe."

They fall silent at that. They've been dangerously indiscreet, trusting in the distance between the two camps.

One of the prisoner's men now emerges from the darkness and approaches the campfire and the guards. "Ho, Peles," one of the men says. "We thought you were asleep, so quiet you were over there."

"Near enough," Peles says. "Soon."

"So where might you be going this time of night?"

"To relieve myself."

"There's plenty of trees need watering over where you came from."

"Excuse me, gentlemen, but that's where we sleep."

"I didn't know the peasants of Arcos were so particular."

"Would you rather I do it here, then, beside your campfire?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, let the fellow go do his business."

As there is no further discussion on the matter, Peles steps into the privacy of the forest and the men return to their talk. But now they are more careful what they say.

"They'll be searching the island tomorrow, that's what I heard."

"Do you suppose they'll find any villages here? It seems such a strange little out-of-the-way place. It's not on any map, the captain said."

"I doubt anyone lives here at all. If they did, it wouldn't seem so empty. There'd be cottages and fields, boats in the harbor, that sort of thing."

"Makes sense. Who's first watch tonight?"

"Janos," says the officer, "then Stefano."

The men are exhausted, as anyone would be who'd departed early from the borderlands, sailed for hours, looked death in the eye through a terrible storm, been cast ash.o.r.e on an island, then spent still more hours unloading the ship, setting up a prison camp, and making a fire-all before having their first bite to eat since breaking their fast that morning. They shuffle over to the neat pile at the edge of the clearing and gather up blankets and roll their cloaks to rest their heads upon. Then they return to the warmth and cheer of the fire and arrange themselves to sleep on the gra.s.s.

Janos sits nearby, leaning against a tree. He knows it isn't a good place for keeping a proper watch. It's too far from the prisoner, and the light from the fire makes it hard to see into the darkness beyond. But he doesn't like to sit alone in this strange place in the gloom of night; he prefers to stay close to the others.

And besides, this prisoner isn't likely to run away, even if he weren't chained to a tree; and his attendants are too loyal to leave him. So keeping watch is really just a formality. And should Janos doze off-which of course he'll try very hard not to do-no harm done.

Peles saunters out of the forest, calm and cheerful as always.

"Sleep well," he says to the guards.

"You, too."

He crosses the clearing and returns to his place beside the king of Arcos. He lies on his side, his head propped up with one hand, and speaks softly into his master's ear.

"It was a lad, sixteen or seventeen, I'd say."

"And?"

"He may be inclined to rescue you."

"Does he speak our language?"

"Aye-and that's strange, now that you mention it."

"How many others are there?"

"'Not many.' That's all he would say."

"Anything else?"

"He wants to meet with you in person. I hope you'll forgive me, Alexos-I said he might, but he should wait an hour or two until the guards are well asleep. I told him to come around to this side of the clearing. Was that a mistake?"

"No, you did right. I take it you trusted this fellow, then?"

"Trusted, yes. Absolutely. As to whether he has the cunning and the skill to pull off a rescue, that's another matter altogether. He seemed-how can I say it?-very young, very innocent. Soft, like-"

"Shhh. Lie down, Peles. Feign sleep."

In the silence that follows they hear the voices of men approaching from the other camp. The guards hear them too, and they have picked out one familiar voice from all the others. They jump to their feet and do their best to look alert and respectful.

"I thought you were going to build a cage," Pyratos says.

"Well, Your Majesty," says the officer, "we did consider that, but there weren't materials for building one and we felt the prisoner ought to be constrained right away. So we've chained him to that tree over there."

"Let's have a look. Bring the lamp, will you?"

Pyratos and his men cross the clearing. Peles, Leander, and Suliman rise as he approaches; Alexos, having no choice in the matter, stays where he is. Wordlessly Pyratos studies the chain. He jerks at the free end, hard; Alexos' wrist comes with it. Pyratos studies the iron cuff, as dispa.s.sionately as if it weren't attached to a body at all.

"Only one manacle?" he shouts to the guards. "You've released this other one? Or did he manage to get it off himself?"

The officer, who has been standing back, now joins the group. "Oh, no, Your Majesty. He could not possibly have opened it. We released it because he is quite secure with the single cuff, and it enabled him to lie down and attend to personal matters-eating, you know, that sort of thing."

Pyratos stares at the officer for a while, just to make him squirm, then, "Leave us," he says, to everyone in general.

When they are gone, Pyratos sits on the ground in a regal sort of way and sets the lamp between them. It's the first time Alexos has seen his enemy up close like this. He was kept belowdecks throughout the voyage; then when they came onto the island, the king was busy elsewhere. Now, as he looks into the face of the man who murdered his father, Alexos is caught completely off guard. Pyratos might be a statue of Apollo brought magically to life. His form is manly, his face strikingly handsome, and his pale hair is as beautiful as that of a G.o.d.

"Well, well," he says. "So this is the famous champion of Athene." He glances down at the legs covered with a blanket. He is looking for the equally famous deformity, of course, and disappointed that it's not on view. "But surely you don't need this on such a warm night. Here, let me help you." Dry wit, so terribly clever, loving every moment.

Pyratos pulls the blanket away, tossing it on the ground. Then he leans forward, chin out, and stares pointedly at Alexos' legs. "Oh, what a pity," he says. The lamplight, shining on his face from below, leaves ghoulish puddles of darkness around his eyes.

Alexos, full of helpless rage, says nothing.

"But I don't suppose it really matters." He reaches over to touch the iron brace, drums on it playfully with his fingers. "Athene would have to find herself a new champion anyway. You won't be much use to her without your head."

Alexos recoils, as from a snake. "Isn't there supposed to be a trial first?"

"Oh, yes. First the trial, then the execution. And never fear, Alexos, it will be a thorough spectacle, befitting your kingly status. All of Ferra will turn out to enjoy it. Perhaps I should give a feast."

"And here I thought the point of a trial was to determine the guilt or innocence of the accused."

"And so it is. As it happens, you will be judged guilty."

"Of what crime?"

"Has no one told you? Really? Conspiracy to murder, my dear boy."

Alexos licks his lips, which are suddenly dry. "And who am I supposed to have killed?"

"My uncle, of course, the duke of Ferra. I'm amazed you could forget such a masterful bit of trickery. You and old Ektor urged me to send an envoy to Arcos to discuss terms for a peace accord-remember? So I sent the duke and you sunk his ship, though it was flying the flag of truce. Your father has already paid for that crime. Now it's your turn."

"You know that's ridiculous. A complete fabrication!"

"Do I?"

"I heard about your uncle's death years ago, when I was just a boy. Even then it was old news. I would have been two or three years old at the time he died, hardly capable of conspiracy. As for my father, he would rather have disemboweled himself than do such an ign.o.ble thing. Nor would he have sued for peace, as that is contrary to the express commands of Olympian Zeus. Everything about your pitiful tale is wrong. The judge won't believe it; no one will."

"Don't worry. I'll make sure they do. Then, chop!-off with your head."

"You are a dreadful man, Pyratos."

The king of Ferra rises without comment and takes up the lamp. "Enjoy your reprieve, you sad little king, for it will be brief." With a merry chuckle he saunters away.

Alexos shivers as a chill runs down his shoulders, into his arms, his belly. He hunches over, shuts his eyes, and concentrates on breathing.

"Alexos?" Suliman is beside him now. "Are you all right?"

"No. But I can't talk about it right now." His eyes are still closed. He is still shaking.

And then they are all around him, his companions, in a conspiracy of touching. Suliman is stroking Alexos' hair, like a father consoling his little son who has lost his best toy. Leander straightens the disordered tunic, then lays the blanket back over the prince's legs, gently tucking it in all around. And Peles has slipped in on his other side. He lays a gentle hand on Alexos' shoulder and whispers in his ear.

"My lord?"

They are treating him like a child, Alexos thinks. He doesn't mind at all.

"What is it, Peles?"

"Before we were interrupted, I was telling you about the boy who so earnestly wants to help you. Do you want to hear the rest? I think you will like it."