Martin spoke quietly, almost to himself. “When I was a boy, among the great trees, I knew such feelings. To stand by a bole so ancient it is older than the oldest living memory of man gives such a sense of place in the world.”
Arutha stretched. “It is late. I shall bid you both a good night.” As he started to leave, he seemed taken by some thought. “I am not given to your philosophies, but . . . I am pleased to have shared this voyage with you both.”
After he was gone, Martin watched the stars for a time, then became aware Amos was studying him. He faced the seaman and said, “You seem taken by some thought, Amos.”
“Aye, Master Longbow.” Leaning against the rail, he said, “Nearly seven full years have passed since I came to Crydee. Something has tickled my mind since first meeting you.”
“What is that, Amos?”
“You’re a man of mysteries, Martin. There’re many things in my own life I’d not wish recounted now, but with you it’s something else.”
Martin appeared indifferent to the course of conversation, but his eyes narrowed slightly. “There’s little about me not well known in Crydee.”
“True, but it is that little which troubles me.”
“Put your mind at ease, Amos. I am the Duke’s Huntmaster, nothing more.”
Quietly Amos said, “I think more, Martin. In my travels through the town, overseeing the rebuilding, I’ve met a lot of people, and in seven years I’ve heard a lot of gossip about you. Some time back I put the pieces together and came up with an answer. It explains why I see your manner change—only a little, but enough to notice—when you’re around Arutha, and especially when you’re around the Princess.”
Martin laughed. “You spin an old and tired bard’s tale, Amos. You think I am the poor hunter desperate for love of a young Princess? You think me in love with Carline?”
Amos said, “No, though I have no doubt you love her. As much as any brother loves his sister.”
Martin had his belt knife half out when Amos’s hand caught his wrist. The thickset seaman held the hunter’s wrist in a viselike grip, and Martin could not move his arm. “Stay your anger, Martin. I’d not like to have to pitch you over the side to cool you off.”
Martin ceased his struggling against Amos and released his knife, letting it slide back into its sheath. Amos held the hunter’s wrist a moment longer, then let go. After a moment Martin said, “She has no knowledge, nor do her brothers. Until this time I thought only the Duke and one or two others might know. How did you learn of it?”
Amos said, “It was not hard. People most often don’t see what is right before them.” Amos turned and watched the sails above, absently checking each detail of the ship’s crew as he spoke. “I’ve seen the Duke’s likeness in the great hall. Should you grow a beard like his, the resemblance would shout for the world to see. Everyone in the castle remarks how Arutha grows to resemble his mother less and father more each passing year, and I’ve been nagged since we first met why no one else noticed he resembles you as well. I expect they don’t notice because they choose not to. It explains so much: why you were granted special favor by the Duke in placing you with the old Huntmaster, and why you were chosen Huntmaster when a new one was needed. For some time now I’ve suspected, but tonight I was certain. When I came up from the lower deck and you both turned in the darkness, for a moment I couldn’t tell which of you was which.”
Martin spoke with no emotion, just a statement of fact. “It’s your life should you breathe a word of it to anyone.”
Amos settled himself against the rail. “I’m a bad man to threaten, Martin Longbow.”
“It is a matter of honor.”
Amos crossed his arms over his chest. “Lord Borric is not the first noble to father a bastard, nor will he be the last. Many are even given offices and rank. How is the Duke of Crydee’s honor endangered?”
Martin gripped the rail, standing like a statue in the night. His words seemed to come from a great distance. “Not his honor, Captain. Mine.” He faced Amos, and in the night his eyes seemed alive with inner light as they reflected the lantern hung behind the seaman. “The Duke knows of my birth, and for his own reasons chose to bring me to Crydee when I was still little more than a boy. I am sure Father Tully has been told, for he stands highest in the Duke’s trust, and possibly Kulgan as well. But none of them suspect I know. They think me ignorant of my heritage.”
Amos stroked his beard. “A knotty problem, Martin. Secrets within secrets, and such. Well, you have my word—from friendship, not from threat—I’ll not speak to anyone of this, save by your leave. Still, if I judge Arutha right, he would sooner know as not.”
“That is for me to decide, Amos, no one else. Someday perhaps I’ll tell him, or I may not.”