Royce began carving his own sculpture.
CHAPTER 19
THE FIRE
Richard Hilfred returned, passing through the gate with a grim expression and without saying a word to either of them. He looked tired and there was a dark stain on his sleeve and a slice in the back of his tunic. They both watched as he crossed the courtyard and entered the castle. Reuben glanced over at Grisham, who offered a noncommittal shrug.
The carriages had reshuffled since Lord Exeter’s departure, now that a few of the party guests had also left. But most of the guests were still inside enjoying the festivities, leaving the long line of carriages waiting in the chilly night. Reuben heard a familiar tune being played in the castle. Performed at every party, he never learned the name or even if it had one. In the three years he’d lived within the castle walls, Reuben had never been to any of the parties, never seen the orchestra for himself. He imagined guests in the big hall. All the lovely ladies spinning, their gowns whirling as they and their men moved in circles beneath chandeliers of candlelight. Arista would be among them. Whenever he heard the muffled music, he always pictured her dancing. He imagined she would be lovely, graceful, elegant. In all the pictures in his head he never saw her with another man. She was always alone, dancing by herself with a bittersweet look upon her face. She might leave the dance, go to the window, and peer out into the black night, searching for the stable and the single lantern marking the place where Reuben usually lay among the straw. Perhaps she would think of him. She might wonder if he was lonely. She would grab her cloak and—
“Have either of you seen the king?” Richard Hilfred snapped.
Reuben jumped at the sound of his father’s voice. He hadn’t even noticed him return from the castle.
Hilfred continued. “Vince said he saw His Majesty leave with Count Pickering, the Earl of West March, and the Earl of Longbow. Said the two were drunk and fighting again.” His tone was more than harsh; it was harried.
Reuben and Grisham exchanged a glance.
“Yeah, the king and the others were in the courtyard for a while,” Reuben said.
“Just walked around,” Grisham added. “Trying to sober them up in the cold air, I expect.”
“Yeah.” Reuben nodded. “Walked in circles, and then…” He looked to Grisham, who was no help, just staring back with a dull expression. “Then the three lords got horses and left, but the king went back inside.”
“I just looked. His Majesty isn’t at the party, and I can’t find Bernie or Mal, who were assigned to him.”
“He did say he was tired. Had a headache or something, I think. Mentioned he would be going to bed.”
“Were Mal and Bernie with him?”
“I … ah … I think so.”
Reuben’s father scowled and turned to Grisham, who nodded. Apparently his son’s account needed corroboration.
His father looked puzzled and stood thinking for a moment. As he did, Reuben noticed the stain on his right sleeve was blood. Not a lot, and it didn’t appear to have come from a wound; the sleeve wasn’t torn or damaged. Finally his father spoke. “The queen retired early, too, along with the princess.”
“There you have it,” Grisham said with a grin. “Wine and that silver dress has put the king in an amorous mood. So they put the kiddies to bed and left the party to the guests.”
Reuben’s father nodded. “So to your knowledge no one in the royal family has left the castle, right?”
“That’s right,” Reuben said, and Grisham nodded.
Reuben’s father looked up at the castle towers for a moment.
“Did anything happen while taking Rose home?” Reuben asked.
His father saw him staring at his sleeve. “No,” he said, and abruptly turned and walked back to the castle, where he disappeared inside.
“Your old da seems a bit stressed this evening. I wonder what thistle got jammed in his codpiece? You might want to keep that helmet on when you go to the barracks tonight, just in case he decides to bounce your head off that door again, eh?”
Guests began leaving. Those with young children went first, cradling sleeping bundles who raised their eyelids just long enough to give the world an insulted look. Grisham waved and a carriage would peel away from the line and roll in to pick them up. The woman would climb in and the husband would pass the child over before slipping in beside her. After the steward closed the door, the coach would circle the courtyard and ride back out, stopping just long enough for Reuben to wave them through. The process was repeated over and over, and Reuben was grateful to finally have something to do.
Later the celebrants came mostly in pairs, younger couples arm in arm and older ones barely acknowledging each other. Most talked loudly and often walked crooked even though they had walked straight going in. There was a lot more laughter and even a bit of singing. One very heavy woman broke into song on the castle steps and was joined by three men in doublets with their cloaks absently left over the crux of their arms. They refused to enter the carriage until they had completed the tune, and Reuben, who had developed a bone-deep chill, wondered how they could endure the frigid night in just their thin doublets and hose.
By the time the quartet exited the gate, the bulk of the guests were filing into the courtyard. The carriages knew the routine. They lined up at the bridge and rolled in, swallowing up their passengers and moving through with practiced efficiency, but the line could only move one at a time and a crowd of fur-lined nobles remained in the courtyard waiting for their carriages.
It was then that Reuben heard the first screams.
People did stupid things when they were drunk. They laughed louder than normal, shouted, and cried. Screams or squealing weren’t unthinkable, but this carried a note of panic. Reuben and Grisham glanced toward the cries, which was in the direction of the castle, but neither gave it much thought. Then a flood of remaining partygoers rushed out the main doors into the courtyard. More yelling and some shoving. An elderly man was pushed to the ground and took his wife with him. He shouted in complaint, but few noticed him; everyone’s eyes were trained on the castle. This was strange but not alarming. It wasn’t until the bell began ringing that Reuben knew something was wrong.
He looked across at Grisham and saw the same concern reflected back.
A moment later they heard someone say the word fire.
By then even the servants were filing out and several of the guards.
“What’s going on?” Grisham shouted as Vince made his way through those gathered in the courtyard to the castle gate.
“There’s a”—he was having a coughing fit—“a fire in the castle. All that straw—”
“Is everyone out?” Reuben asked. “Did the princess escape?” He looked around desperately, but it was impossible to find anyone in the swirling crowd.
Vince was shaking his head as he coughed again. “We can’t get up the stairs.”
Up the stairs…
The queen retired early, too, along with the princess.
The crowd below squealed as a loud crash sent flames out one high window.
“Who’s getting them out?” Reuben asked.
“No one,” Vince replied. “The chancellor ordered everyone to the courtyard. He’s organizing a bucket brigade. All that straw and hay—the place is an inferno.”
“Reuben!” he heard Grisham shout as he ran for the castle. “Damn it! You can’t leave your post!”
Reuben dodged the crowd and sprinted up the front steps. The open doors of the castle seethed a thick black smoke. He took a deep breath and ran in. The last few servants, holding sleeves and skirts to their faces, rushed past him on their way out. Everything was smoky, hard to see, but he saw no flames and felt no heat.
Reuben found the stairs and started up when he met his father coming down.