The Book of Lost Things(76)
*
The road twisted and turned, narrowing as David drew nearer to his destination. Sheer faces of rock rose up on either side of him, creating a canyon through which the pounding of Scylla’s hooves echoed, for the snow had not fallen as thickly here, the ground sheltered by the walls above. Then David was clear of the canyon, and before him stretched a valley with a river running through it. By its banks, about a mile or so distant, stood a great castle with high, thick walls and many towers and buildings. Lights glowed in its windows, and fires were lit upon its battlements. David could see soldiers on guard. As he watched, the portcullis was raised and a group of twelve horsemen emerged. They crossed the drawbridge and turned in David’s direction, riding fast. Still fearful of the wolves, David rode down to meet them. As soon as they saw him, the horsemen urged their horses on until they reached him and surrounded him, the men at the rear turning to face the canyon, spears at the ready in case any threat should emerge from that direction.
“We have been waiting for you,” announced one of the men. He was older than the others, and he bore the scars of old battles upon his face. Gray-brown hair curled from beneath his helmet, and he wore a silver breastplate studded with bronze under his dark cloak. “We are to bring you to the safety of the king’s chambers. Come now.”
David rode with them, hemmed in on all sides by armed riders so that he felt at once both protected and a prisoner. They arrived at the drawbridge without incident and passed into the castle, the portcullis instantly lowering behind them. Servants came and helped David to dismount. They wrapped him in a cloak of soft, black fur and gave him a hot, sweet drink in a silver cup to warm him. One of them took Scylla by the reins. David was about to stop him when the leader of the horsemen intervened.
“They will take good care of your horse, and she will be stabled close to where you sleep. I am Duncan, Captain of the King’s Guard. Have no fear. You are safe with us, an honored guest of the king.”
He asked David to follow him. David did so, staying behind him as they left the outer courtyard and moved deeper into the castle. There were more people here than he had seen in his entire travels so far, and he was an object of interest to all of them. Serving girls stopped and whispered about him behind their hands. Old men bowed slightly as he passed, and small boys looked at him with something like awe.
“They have heard a great deal about you,” said Duncan.
“How?” asked David.
But all Duncan would say was that the king had his ways.
Down stone corridors they went, past spitting torches and luxuriously furnished chambers. Now the servants were replaced by courtiers, serious men with gold around their necks and papers in their hands. They stared at David with a mixture of expressions: happiness, worry, suspicion, even fear. Finally, Duncan and David arrived at a pair of great doors, carved with images of dragons and doves. Soldiers stood guard at either side, each armed with a long pike. As David and Duncan approached, the soldiers opened the doors for them, revealing a large room lined with marble pillars, its floors covered with beautifully woven carpets. Tapestries hung from the walls, giving the chamber a feeling of warmth. They depicted battles and weddings, funerals and coronations. There were more courtiers here, and more soldiers, forming two lines between which David and Duncan passed, until they found themselves at the foot of a throne raised upon three stone steps. On the throne sat an old, old man. A gold crown lay on his brow, inset with red jewels, but it seemed to weigh heavily on him, and the skin was red and raw where the metal touched his forehead. His eyes were half closed, and his breathing was very shallow.
Duncan fell to one knee and bowed his head. He tugged at David’s leg as a hint that he should do the same. David, of course, had never been before a king and was not sure how to behave, so he followed Duncan’s example, only peering up from under the fringe of his hair so that he could see the old man.
“Your Majesty,” said Duncan. “He is here.”
The king stirred, and opened his eyes a little wider.
“Come closer,” he said to David.
David wasn’t sure if he was supposed to rise to his feet or stay kneeling and just shuffle along. He didn’t want to offend anyone or get in any trouble.
“You may stand,” said the king. “Come, let me see you.”
David stood and approached the dais. The king beckoned him with a wrinkled finger, and David climbed the steps until he was facing the old man. With a great effort, the king leaned forward and gripped David’s shoulder, the weight of his entire upper body seeming to rest upon the boy. He weighed hardly anything at all, and David was reminded of the drained husks of the knights in the Fortress of Thorns.
“You have come a long way,” said the king. “Few men could have achieved what you have managed to accomplish.”
David did not know how to respond. “Thank you” didn’t seem right, and anyway he didn’t feel particularly proud of himself. Roland and the Woodsman were both dead, and the bodies of the two thieves lay somewhere on the road, hidden by snow. He wondered if the king knew about them too. The king seemed to know a great deal for someone who was supposed to be losing control of his kingdom.
In the end, David settled upon saying, “I’m happy to be here, Your Majesty,” and he imagined the ghost of Roland being impressed by this act of diplomacy.
The king smiled and nodded, as if it were not possible that someone could be unhappy to be in his company.