Guards of Haven: The Adventures of Hawk and Fisher (Hawk & Fisher) (21 page)

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Authors: Simon R. Green

BOOK: Guards of Haven: The Adventures of Hawk and Fisher (Hawk & Fisher)
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“You need a woman in your life,” said David. “Surely at all those parties there must have been someone, some woman who made your heart beat faster....”
“There was one woman I loved. But I never told her.”
“Why not?”
“Because I cared for her too much to ruin her life by becoming a part of it. I’ve messed up my own life quite thoroughly. I’m damned if I’ll drag her down with me. Besides, she already has someone, someone who’ll make her much happier than I ever could.”
David shook his head. “Arthur, you mustn’t think so badly of yourself.”
“Why not? Everyone else does. Even you.”
“That’s different. I’m your friend. All your friends worry about you.”
“Friends,” said Arthur, sipping at his drink. “I used to think I had a lot of friends. After all, there’s no one so popular as a drunk with money. But I had to make out my will the other week. Instructions from the Family lawyer. So there I was, sitting at my desk in my study, and I found there was hardly anyone I wanted to leave anything to. I know lots of people, but the only time I ever see them are at parties. Not one of them ever called at my house during the day to say hello, or ask how I was, or just to chat for a while over a glass of something. In the end, I found there were only three people in my life who I thought might regret my passing. You, Holly, and Louis Hightower. That’s it. And be honest now. How many of you would even bother to come to my funeral if it was raining?”
“There is nothing so boring as a maudlin drunk,” said David firmly. “If you’re just going to feel sorry for yourself ...”
“It’s a dirty job,” said Arthur. “But someone has to do it.”
“Oh, stop it! Of course you have other friends. What about Jamie?”
“He’s your friend, not mine. He just puts up with me because of you and Holly.”
“Look, if you’re so determined to kill yourself, why are you dragging it out? Do the honourable thing and put yourself out of your misery! Oh hell ... I’m sorry, Arthur. You’d think I’d know better by now than to argue with you while you’re drunk. Just ... snap out of it. You’ve got a lot to live for. There’s a lot more to life than drink.”
“I don’t care for drugs,” said Arthur. “I’m a traditionalist at heart.”
“You’re just trying to annoy me, aren’t you? Look, you can’t kill yourself. Think how upset Holly would be. Now let’s change the subject. Gods, you can be depressing at times, Arthur. You’re not the only one with problems, you know. I have problems too, but you don’t see me crying into my wine over them.”
Arthur looked at him steadily. “You’ve never had problems. You’ve always been handsome and popular. Your Family bend over backwards to indulge you. Women have been chasing you ever since your voice dropped. You have so many friends your parties often spill over into a second house. What problems do you have. Davey? Not being able to choose which shirt to wear next?”
David looked at him for a long moment. “You know your trouble, Arthur? You’re so wrapped up in your precious self-pity you can’t see beyond the end of your own nose. Haven’t you ever wondered why I spend so much time with you and Holly and Jamie, instead of running off to join the army and see the world, like the rest of our contemporaries?”
Arthur frowned. “That’s right. Your Family’s famous for its strong tradition of military service, isn’t it? Practically obligatory, from what I’ve heard. I suppose I just assumed you had more sense than the rest of your Family. All right, tell me. Why aren’t you in the army?”
“Because the army wouldn’t have me. I spent two years cramming with my tutors to get me past the Military Academy entrance exams, two years working my guts out, and I still didn’t pass. I didn’t even come close. Whatever it takes to be an officer, I don’t have it. There was nothing my Family could do. There were all kinds of strings they could have pulled on my behalf, once I got into the Academy, but not even their influence could persuade the Academy to accept such a spectacular failure as me.
“They couldn’t even get me into the diplomatic corps, where most of our Family’s second-raters end up.
“My father threatened to disown me. Most of my Family aren’t talking to me, and those that are never miss an opportunity to remind me how badly I let them all down. And as for my friends, practically everyone I grew up with is in the army now, scattered across the Low Kingdoms, defending our borders. Some of them have already died doing it. And every time I find a familiar name in the death lists I think
That could have been me. That should have been me.
We’ve more in common than you think, Arthur.”
Arthur looked at him unflinchingly. “I’m sorry, Davey. You’re right, I should have known, but I just never thought about it. You see, you’re the only man I ever envied. Because you’ve got the only thing I ever wanted. You have Holly.”
There was a long pause as they looked at each other. To his credit, David didn’t look away. “So it is her. We often wondered, but you never said anything. Holly and I love each other, Arthur. We always have. We’re going to be married soon. I wish ... things could have been different. We used to be so close, the three of us.”
“We were children then. Children grow up.”
There was a sudden knocking at the door. The two men jumped to their feet as the door burst open and Jamie hurried in.
“What is it?” asked David, as Jamie shut the door behind him. “What’s happened?”
“Relax,” said Jamie. “There’s no emergency. I just needed someone to talk to. I don’t know what to do. At the moment I’m pinning all my hopes on Dad’s will, that there’ll be something in it that can help us, but it’s a slim hope at best. I’m not up to this. In the past, whenever there was a problem, I could always turn to Dad. He always knew what to do. Now there’s just me, and everything’s going wrong.”
“Oh hell,” said David. “Another one.”
“Ignore him,” said Arthur quickly. “You mustn’t blame yourself, Jamie. You’re doing everything you can. We understand how hard it is. It’s not easy, learning how to stand on your own feet. Some people never do learn. But you’re doing fine so far. Isn’t he, Davey?”
“Damn right,” said David. “You found your father’s papers, didn’t you? Without them, we might never have found out what kind of monster we were dealing with.”
“I can’t help feeling Dad would have done things differently,” said Jamie. “He was the great warrior, after all; the great hero. Everyone said so, even the King. I was so proud of him ... even though I never got to see much of him. He was away with the army a lot, especially after Mother died when I was young. But he was spending more time at the Tower just recently, and we were really getting to know each other. And then he had to go and die in that stupid little clash on the border. I couldn’t believe it when I heard. How could he have been so
stupid?
He didn’t have to go up there in person, not someone of his rank. He must have known it wasn’t safe up there! But he went anyway, because he couldn’t bear to miss out on the action. And he got himself killed, leaving Holly and me alone. And on top of all that, he hadn’t even bothered to tell me the Secret, as he should have!”
He was close to tears, his face bright red with anger and frustration. Arthur took him by the arm, and gently but firmly made him sit down on the nearest chair. “It’s all right to be angry, Jamie,” he said softly. “I was angry at my Family when they all died so suddenly, going off and leaving me all alone. But it wasn’t your father’s fault. He didn’t mean to leave you. He just made a mistake, that’s all; a simple mistake in judgment.”
“Right,” said David, sitting on the arm of the chair. “Everyone makes mistakes, Jamie. Even a great hero like your dad.”
“The whole border situation is a mess right now,” said Arthur. “Practically everyone I know has lost somebody to one border clash or another. If Outremer doesn’t back down soon, we could find ourselves in a full-fledged war.”
“It won’t come to that,” said David. “No one wants a war, at least no one that matters, and no one really cares about the borders. It’s just politics, that’s all. The diplomats will sort it out. Eventually.”
“We’re getting away from the point,” said Arthur. “Which is, all you can ever do is give it your best shot, and hope that’s enough. That’s all your father would expect of you, Jamie. That’s all any of us expect of you. You’re doing fine. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Right, Davey?”
“Sure,” said David. “We’ll find the freak and kill him, and no one will ever have to know about it.”
“Right,” said Arthur. “Care for a drink, Jamie?”
 
Greaves looked round the library and nodded approvingly. Everything was where it should be, ready for the reading of the will. Duncan would have been proud to see all his wishes carried out to the letter. The chairs had been set up in a semicircle facing Duncan’s favourite desk. The wax-sealed will had been placed neatly in the middle of the desktop, ready to be opened. All it lacked now was the man himself.
Greaves’ breath suddenly caught in his chest, and he looked away. He’d known the master was dead for some time now, but somehow the reading of the will confirmed it, made it real. Duncan would never again come striding through that door, to warm his hands at the fire and roar for cigars and his best brandy. Once the will was read, Duncan would become just a memory, a portrait on the wall; and young Jamie would be the new MacNeil in fact as well as name. Greaves sighed. He’d serve Jamie faithfully, just as Mister Duncan had ordered, but it wouldn’t be the same. Mister Duncan had been a great man, and Greaves would miss him.
He felt suddenly tired, and sat down on one of the chairs, something he would never have done if anyone else had been present. But it was all right; there was no one to see him. Robbie Brennan was off on an errand, and Mister Jamie and the guests were all safely occupied upstairs. Greaves leaned back in the chair and looked slowly around him. The library had always been his favourite room. Many an evening he had served Mister Duncan and his guests as they sat in the library, telling and retelling marvelous tales of their younger, soldiering days. And Greaves had moved from chair to chair, handing out glasses of mulled wine and dispensing cigars, inventing extra tasks so that he could stay a little longer and listen, too.
The butler scowled, pursing his lips tightly together. It was all gone now. No more evening stories. No more fine parties of great people for him to look after. And the MacNeil himself dead and lost on a battlefield too far away even to imagine, let alone visit. There had been little warmth in Greaves’s life as a butler, only orders and duties and the comfort of knowing his place and keeping to it. But Greaves had always thought of himself as someone who might have been Duncan MacNeil’s friend if things had been different. And now the man was dead, and Greaves would never be able to tell him that.
The door opened and Greaves was quickly back on his feet, but it was only Robbie Brennan, carrying the extra candelabrum Greaves had sent him for. Greaves pointed silently to where he wanted it, and Brennan lowered it carefully into place. He straightened up and glared at Greaves.
“That has to be it. We’ve moved everything in here that isn’t actually nailed down.”
“The MacNeil was very particular in his wishes,” said Greaves calmly. “Everything had to be just so. But we are finished now.”
“Good,” said Brennan. “I think I’ve done my back in, shifting that desk. I’d better go and tell Jamie his guests can come down now.”
“Just a minute ... Robbie. I want to talk to you.”
Brennan looked at the butler in surprise as Greaves sat down again and gestured for Brennan to pull up a chair facing him. He did so, and looked at Greaves curiously.
“Robbie, tell me about Duncan,” said Greaves quietly. “Tell me about the Duncan you knew, in your younger days.”
“Why?” said Brennan.
“Because I want to know. Because I miss him.”
Brennan shrugged uncomfortably. “You’ve heard all the songs, but you can forget them. Songs are for entertainment, not history. I first met Duncan forty-four years ago, almost to the month. He was a young officer, the ink still wet on his commission. I was a mercenary out of Shadowrock, serving with Murdoch’s Marauders. An impressive name for a bunch of killers, half of them running from the law under names their mothers wouldn’t have recognized.
“Duncan and I first saw action together at Cormorran’s Bridge. The way the official histories tell it, it was a tactical defeat for the other side. I was there, and it was a bloody massacre. We lost five hundred men in the first half hour, and the river ran red with blood and offal. Murdoch’s Marauders were wiped out; only a handful of us survived. The main army was broken and scattered, heading for the horizon with enemy troops snapping at their heels. There were bodies everywhere, blood and guts lying steaming in the mud. The flies came down in great black clouds, covering the dead and the dying like moving blankets. Duncan and I ended up fighting back to back in the shallows. We would have run, but there was nowhere to run to. We were surrounded, and the enemy weren’t interested in taking prisoners. So, we made our stand, and vowed to take as many of them with us as we could. No one was more surprised than us when the enemy finally retreated rather than face approaching army reinforcements, and we were both still alive. We were a mess, but we were alive.

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