Hal - The Duellist #1

Chapter Thirty-Six: Heirs

She was giving away more than she had intended but having begun, she was unable to stop. "He lied to me my entire life."

She knocked back some beer and stared gloomily into the brazier. The guards looked at one another. Finally, Arec said: "If Franc is your father, then this is your home. Maybe he hasn't done right by you till now, but he is a good man. He'll see to it you want for nothing. And if you stay, it would solve a little problem of our own, wouldn't it lads?"

They mumbled in agreement.

"What do you mean?"

"We were always worried that the master didn't have an heir," Arec explained. "Without an heir, who knows what would happen to this place. The Emperor would have to take control of it. Maybe he'd let us live on here, maybe not. Some of us – our fortunes have been tied up with the Hannacs' for centuries. It would be a tragedy. But with a new master – or mistress – to take over when Franc dies, we could at least have some possibility of staying on here a few more decades. And if you're anything like your father, we'd have a good living too."

She tried to absorb this. Not only was she now the heir to Hannac, but potentially responsible for the livelihoods of its inhabitants. "Why me?" she whispered to herself.

"You look worn out girl," Arec said at last. "Did the master give you a room, or somewhere to sleep?"

She shook her head. "We had other things on our minds. I suppose he forgot."

"Well, if you're not too proud, I can offer you a space under a table in the great hall."

She had no energy left to protest. Rising, they bade goodnight to the other soldiers, and headed inside the fortress.

The candles had been put out, and she could just make out the prone shapes of sleepers everywhere: on tables, under tables, some even lying beneath benches.

"You should be warm enough here," Arec informed her. "We try to keep the fire burning all night, and you might be lucky enough to find a spare blanket in that box over there."

He gestured towards a wooden chest in a corner of the room. Gingerly stepping over the bodies of sleeping tenants, she pulled an old, worn rag from the bottom of the chest. Then she climbed under a table and lay squeezed beneath two strangers, both of whom were snoring violently. The noise did not disturb her. No sooner had her eyes closed, than she fell asleep.

***

"Ah, doctor. You wanted to see me? Be brief, please. I'm rather busy."

Bruno Nérac thumbed absentmindedly through some pages of a tome on politics. He was generally too caught up in matters of business to read these days. A shame, really.

A memory drifted, unbidden, somewhere on the edge of his conscious thoughts. A young child, seated on his mother's knee as she had taught him his letters. The world of words that she had unlocked, a world in which anything was possible.

He slammed down the cover of the book. The noise reverberated around the library, echoing across its high-beamed ceiling. The doctor was sweating. Pulling off his cloth hat he wiped his bald head and brow, dislodging the thin-rimmed spectacles on the end of his pointed nose. He bent down to pick them up, hurriedly replacing them. Nérac looked on in bored amusement.

"Well, Sir? You have news for me?"

"It concerns your wife, my Lord."

"Oh, yes. My wife. How is she?"

He fixed the man with an interrogative stare. He had not seen the woman for over a week, now. Not since the last time she...it was all becoming so tiring.

He had waited for so long to make his choice, a match which would be profitable in every sense. A bright young woman from the city, untarnished by the corruptions of the court. Good-looking and intelligent, brought up in the ways of business. Robust enough to deliver the healthy sons and daughters he craved, and her dowry – the contract with Léac – which ensured him wealth for the years to come. In contrast to the other candidates he had considered, she had seemed perfect. And he had been more than prepared to grant her far more than any other aristocrat's wife might expect: a library to call her own, security, protection, the freedom to pursue any harmless pastimes she might enjoy. All he expected in return was compliance. It was not much to ask.

At first her struggles had aroused him, to the extent that he had delighted in her resistance and his own ability to overpower her. Gradually, however, the fight in her had faded, replaced by a cold, impassive acceptance which left him feeling disgusted, both with himself and with her. He had tried to catch her off-guard, to flatter or cajole her, to elicit some kind of reaction from her but nothing worked. She had become a stone figurine, a statue which might ornament the banqueting hall.

The doctor avoided his gaze, keenly studying the floor as he spoke. "She had a slight accident, Sir."

"An accident? Of what kind?" Nérac picked up the book on politics, reading its spine before carefully replacing it on the shelf.

"She fainted, Sir. While she was taking breakfast. Her maid observed it and fetched me. By the time I had arrived she had recovered."

Nérac froze and then quickly regained his composure. "Anything else, man?"

"She would not take her breakfast, Sir. She was sick."

"She was sick? And would you happen to know the cause of her sickness?"

The doctor shifted from foot to foot, his gaze fixed upon the floor.

"Well come on, doctor! I pay you a princely sum to keep my wife and myself in good health. What is the matter with her?"

"Sir, I examined her carefully and...I believe her to be pregnant. By about a month."

Nérac started. He had not expected to hear this news so soon. Well, he had been right on one score at least. His wife was healthy, strong, fertile. His heart beat faster. "This is good news, excellent news, doctor." His voice was low, quiet, almost a whisper. "Take care that she wants for nothing. I will be with her soon."

"As you wish, Sir." The doctor turned to go.

"Oh, and doctor?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"My wife, as you know, is precious to me beyond belief. As is my future child."

The doctor wagged his head up and down a few times, impatient to be gone. "I will do everything in my power to keep them safe, Sir."

He left the room and Nérac lowered himself into a wide-armed wooden chair and rested his feet on the table. Suddenly, his composure breaking, he brought his fist down on the table with an exuberant crash and his mouth cracked open into a smile of pure joy.