Last Tales of Mercia 10: Osbern the Son Page 2

  *

  Osbern returned to the castle late that night and realized he no longer felt excited about the feast. He walked up the barbican to the keep, then through the darkness of the first level to the flickering torches of the second. He did not feel as proud of his home as he wanted to. It did not even feel much like home.

  His father had gone to bed early, probably because his ankles had been bothering him of late. Osbern felt reluctant to go to his own bed. The profound silence of his chambers required some adjustment. Sometimes he actually missed the sounds of slaves or rowdy guards outside the flimsy wooden walls of his previous chambers, even though he had complained of them at the time. The silence of the keep could somehow seem deafening.

  He found Sir Geoffrey sitting in the dining hall next to an empty goblet and a pitcher of wine. Osbern rarely saw the knight drink. Then again, Geoffrey only seemed to be glaring at the wine rather than touching it.

  Osbern sat further down the table and took some stale bread from a bowl. He ate it quickly, then shifted in his seat, wondering what to do next.

  “Sit still,” snapped Geoffrey.

  Osbern jerked with surprise. He might have reprimanded Geoffrey for taking that tone if his heart wasn’t pounding so quickly with fear.

  “Please, Suzerain,” the knight added absently.

  Osbern gulped, wondering what thoughts ran through the older man’s mind. Geoffrey had not been himself ever since five slaves escaped under his watch, the sixth having died at Geoffrey’s hand. It was unlike the hawk-eyed knight to make such a clumsy mistake. Lord Richard had been furious with him and strictly limited his duties ever since. Fortunately for Geoffrey, the keep had nearly been finished anyway, and the slaves would have been freed by now. The punishment was not as harsh as it could have been.

  “Why did it happen?” Osbern asked suddenly.

  The knight’s pale eyes blinked with surprise. “Excuse me?”

  “Why did the slaves escape?”

  A slight snarl pulled at Geoffrey’s lips. The expression on Geoffrey’s face might have made Osbern flee in terror if he didn’t already feel so hopeless. Why not see what happened when he got Geoffrey riled? There was nothing else to do in this God-forsaken place.

  “You must have let them get away with it,” Osbern pressed. “Or something must have gone terribly wrong. So why did it happen?”

  Geoffrey stood up. Osbern’s stomach rolled inside of him. Geoffrey could kill him right here and now and no one would be around to stop him. After all, who knew what this knight would do lately? But Geoffrey only turned to pour himself a goblet of wine.

  The knight sniffed the liquor carefully. Then he brought it to his lips and sipped. A calm settled over him as he swallowed the sweet liquid. His eyes peered through his yellow bangs into the shadows of the hall, as if into another time and place.

  “Do you feel as if you have any control over what happens to you in this life, Suzerain?”

  The question caught Osbern by such surprise that he needed a long time to think about it. Even then, the best response he could muster was, “Somewhat.”

  “‘Somewhat.’” Geoffrey sneered at him, but part of the expression looked like a genuine smile. “You surprise me, Osbern. I thought that you of all people would say ‘yes.’”

  Osbern decided to overlook the fact that Geoffrey had called him by name. Doing so might ruin this otherwise interesting moment. Osbern found himself looking the knight in the eyes and confessing, “I never chose to move to Engla-lond.”

  His own bluntness astounded him. What if his father walked in right now? What if he had heard the resentment in Osbern’s voice? For once Osbern didn’t care. Let the ugly truth release itself.

  “I didn’t even choose to build this fucking castle,” grumbled Osbern. “So why would I believe I had much control over my life?”

  “Because you act as if you do every day.” Geoffrey’s eyes seemed to pierce him with their intensity. The knight leaned slightly closer. “You issue commands. You cling to your sword. You wish desperately to discover that one of your actions has achieved the desired response. Yet again and again you fail.”

  “Careful, knight.” Osbern felt himself trembling slightly, and he prayed that Geoffrey did not notice. “What happens to us is God’s will, in the end.”

  Geoffrey set down his goblet, still nearly brimming. “Cling to what illusions you’d like.” He wiped his lips with the tips of his fingers, and looked directly out the window. Osbern thought the sun must blaze straight into Geoffrey’s eyes, but the knight did not flinch. “There is no control. No real certainties. We shouldn’t even be here. God raped the sky and we appeared. So now He is trying to kill us.”

  A long silence must have passed after that. Osbern didn’t really know. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Only stare at Geoffrey in shocked silence.

  Geoffrey finally turned to look at him, his eyes still gleaming with the glow of the sun. Then he gave a low chuckle.

  Osbern shook his head and finally returned to his senses, realizing he must look like a dullard. “How long did it take you to come up with that nonsense?” he sputtered.

  Geoffrey just kept chuckling.