never see
him again and it was so easy, too easy, to imagine the kind of
goodbyes he should have made.
It probably hadn’t even occurred to Godric
that Bertie was scared for him, that while falling asleep in each
other’s arms had been wonderful, Bertie might still wish to say
something to Godric before he left.
Perhaps he had been afraid Bertie would
further embarrass him, which was admittedly a possibility, or cry,
or wail for Godric to never leave him. Tears could break free
easily enough, Bertie knew, but if Bertie had managed not to give
into the need at their last parting he could do so again, even if
it killed him.
At the very least Godric could have appeared
to chastise Bertie once more for taking risks and then patiently
endure Bertie’s worry and love for him in return. It would have
only been fair.
It seemed winter already at that moment with
Bertie alone and the sun only a hint between the trees. He
tightened the sash at his waist to better support the cat and then
wrapped his arms about himself as he began to walk. Most of the
encampment had already left, ridden out under cover of night. It
was alarming that he had not heard a sound, but then, he had been
wrapped up with his treasure.
Tents stood out amid so much flattened
earth, as did the movements of packing soldiers and the two wagons
near the center of the camp. Some of Bertie’s people were climbing
into them to assist the soldiers carefully pulling up the wounded
and infirm.
There were a few cavalrymen about too, men
from the king’s guard and Godric’s tutelage, waiting patiently
astride their horses, and though it had not occurred to Bertie, it
seemed obvious now that Godric would send along a contingent of men
he could not afford to spare.
Bertie was on a perilous fool’s journey;
there was no need to add to Godric’s worries by taking away more of
his soldiers.
“How many is he sending?” he demanded as he
hurried over to them, stopping when one soldier lifted his head and
he saw it was the sour-faced Captain who did not seem so sour-faced
this morning. He wasn’t frowning until he saw Bertie, and then it
was merely a brief frown before he returned to the task at
hand.
“Only three, Lord Aethelbert,” Torr answered
calmly, as though that number were not both too high and too low.
Three for over twenty five was not enough to truly guard but it was
also too many to take from Godric’s side. Yet three was the same
number that had found them hiding around the Keep and brought them
here.
Bertie stopped, and blinked. It was the same
three, in fact. The same three men.
“Sir Godric did not order us,” the captain
added, straightening for a salute that would have made Bertie gape
if he had not grown up around the court. “We volunteered now as we
did then.”
Bertie felt his mouth go slack despite his
previous thought “This talk of duty,” he got out after too long a
pause. “Is there no one it does not affect?” He pouted to the gods
in general and to the Trickster specifically, and was even more
startled when the captain saluted him. Again .
Aethelbert of Clas Draigoch was obeyed, if
reluctantly, but never honored. Bertie wet his lips though they
would chap in the wind, and waited.
“It is a noble task,” Torr offered, then
looked squarely at Bertie with that blank, measured look that
Bertie had first seen in his brother and then in Godric years and
years ago, that look that said potential costs had been considered
as well as the possible benefits and one had decidedly outweighed
the other. Bertie distantly wished he knew how to do it, then
realized to his dismay that he already did and that was why his
brother and Godric had put such trust in him.
He became aware that he was staring and made
himself blink again. The captain’s mouth curved up in what could
have been a smile before he went back to work. He shrugged as well
but the gesture was too pointed to be innocent. Bertie found
himself glancing around until he
him again and it was so easy, too easy, to imagine the kind of
goodbyes he should have made.
It probably hadn’t even occurred to Godric
that Bertie was scared for him, that while falling asleep in each
other’s arms had been wonderful, Bertie might still wish to say
something to Godric before he left.
Perhaps he had been afraid Bertie would
further embarrass him, which was admittedly a possibility, or cry,
or wail for Godric to never leave him. Tears could break free
easily enough, Bertie knew, but if Bertie had managed not to give
into the need at their last parting he could do so again, even if
it killed him.
At the very least Godric could have appeared
to chastise Bertie once more for taking risks and then patiently
endure Bertie’s worry and love for him in return. It would have
only been fair.
It seemed winter already at that moment with
Bertie alone and the sun only a hint between the trees. He
tightened the sash at his waist to better support the cat and then
wrapped his arms about himself as he began to walk. Most of the
encampment had already left, ridden out under cover of night. It
was alarming that he had not heard a sound, but then, he had been
wrapped up with his treasure.
Tents stood out amid so much flattened
earth, as did the movements of packing soldiers and the two wagons
near the center of the camp. Some of Bertie’s people were climbing
into them to assist the soldiers carefully pulling up the wounded
and infirm.
There were a few cavalrymen about too, men
from the king’s guard and Godric’s tutelage, waiting patiently
astride their horses, and though it had not occurred to Bertie, it
seemed obvious now that Godric would send along a contingent of men
he could not afford to spare.
Bertie was on a perilous fool’s journey;
there was no need to add to Godric’s worries by taking away more of
his soldiers.
“How many is he sending?” he demanded as he
hurried over to them, stopping when one soldier lifted his head and
he saw it was the sour-faced Captain who did not seem so sour-faced
this morning. He wasn’t frowning until he saw Bertie, and then it
was merely a brief frown before he returned to the task at
hand.
“Only three, Lord Aethelbert,” Torr answered
calmly, as though that number were not both too high and too low.
Three for over twenty five was not enough to truly guard but it was
also too many to take from Godric’s side. Yet three was the same
number that had found them hiding around the Keep and brought them
here.
Bertie stopped, and blinked. It was the same
three, in fact. The same three men.
“Sir Godric did not order us,” the captain
added, straightening for a salute that would have made Bertie gape
if he had not grown up around the court. “We volunteered now as we
did then.”
Bertie felt his mouth go slack despite his
previous thought “This talk of duty,” he got out after too long a
pause. “Is there no one it does not affect?” He pouted to the gods
in general and to the Trickster specifically, and was even more
startled when the captain saluted him. Again .
Aethelbert of Clas Draigoch was obeyed, if
reluctantly, but never honored. Bertie wet his lips though they
would chap in the wind, and waited.
“It is a noble task,” Torr offered, then
looked squarely at Bertie with that blank, measured look that
Bertie had first seen in his brother and then in Godric years and
years ago, that look that said potential costs had been considered
as well as the possible benefits and one had decidedly outweighed
the other. Bertie distantly wished he knew how to do it, then
realized to his dismay that he already did and that was why his
brother and Godric had put such trust in him.
He became aware that he was staring and made
himself blink again. The captain’s mouth curved up in what could
have been a smile before he went back to work. He shrugged as well
but the gesture was too pointed to be innocent. Bertie found
himself glancing around until he
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