Priest (Ratcatchers Book 1) (32 page)

“I could tell she was keeping something from me, something darker than death. But she would say no more on that matter.”

Heden kept pace with the knight.

“What else did Halcyon tell you?”

“She told me you and I are the same,” Taethan confessed, and it was clear the idea worried him.

“Well that’s horseshit,” Heden said.

“That was my reaction as well.” Taethan said. “Though, of course, not in those words.”

“But now that you’ve met me,” Heden asked, trying to smile like Gwiddon.

Taethan stopped suddenly. Heden smelled moisture in the air and the sound of birdsong was suddenly very loud.

Taethan was a head taller than Heden and looked at him with open judgment.

“Now I’m certain it’s horseshit,” the knight said.

Heden barked a laugh.

“Where are we?” Heden asked.

They had walked out of the forest and stood at the edge of a huge lake that stretched before them like the mirror of a vain god. There was no distinct shoreline, the forest just stopped, and the lake began. It was so big, the fare shore disappeared into the line of trees beyond. It was miles across. To the east, he saw a fawn drinking from the water. Picking its head up regularly to look for predators. It took no note of the two humans.

Flies buzzed above the lake and fish occasionally broke the surface trying to gulp them down. The water rippled slightly as the wind caught it, but was otherwise still.

“This is the center of our demesne,” Taethan said, and walked until he was standing ankle deep in the water. “We are still hundreds of miles south of the center of the Wode. But for us, this is the heart of the forest. It is sacred to us. All the Wode knows this is our holiest of places, more so than the priory, and none would disturb us here.”

“Alright,” Heden said, accepting this. “So what?”

“I wanted to see it once more before I died,” Taethan said, and looked out over the water as though in prayer. His face sparkled with reflected silver light.

“Black gods,” Heden said. “You’re not making this easy for me.” Taethan looked to him quizzically.

“Aderyn said talk to you. I thought it was because you knew who murdered Kavalen. But I don’t think she knows what happened. Brys says ‘talk to Taethan’ and I figured you murdered Kavalen to save the order. Then I got it from Idris and his two idiots, Isobel and Nudd with the three fingers,” he said holding up the three fingers in mocking imitation, “and by the time you showed up I was so sick of all of them I was willing to believe you were the only innocent person in the whole forest.”

Taethan turned back to the lake as though ignoring Heden.

“I don’t know what you’re guilty of,” Heden said. “But you’re guilty of something. It’s killing you. I know the signs.”

“I am sorry that you are a part of this, Heden.”

“What?” Heden asked. Taethan was deflecting so much Heden was off-balance.

“I believe you when you say you would stand alone against the urq for the sake of the people of Ollghum Keep, if you thought there was a chance.”

“Well,” Heden said uncomfortable. “I’m still a…a servant of Cavall, I….”

“But moreover I do
not
believe you when you say you hate knights. Hate the order.”

“You don’t,” Heden said.

“I watched you run after Idris, a man you had every reason to despise. Trying to will the joust to stop. In that moment, I believe you would have given anything to save his life, including your own.”

Heden found the memory of it difficult. And it reminded him of something worse, something Taethan could not know about. Elzpeth.

Taethan looked at him with compassion.

“Do you know how I know that?”

Heden was having trouble breathing. The air had become thick. He nodded. He remembered Taethan crying out the name of Idris and Isobel.

“Because you felt the same way,” Heden said thickly.

Taethan nodded, smiling ruefully at Heden.

Something had opened up between the two men, some shared pain or grief. It was powerful and Heden didn’t like it.

“Don’t,” Heden cleared his throat. “Don’t read too much into that.” He found the sudden intimacy with the knight difficult. Found any such intimacy difficult. It seemed this knight suddenly knew him too well.

“I would have behaved like that with anyone. I’m an Arrogate. It’s my
job
. I just enjoy it less when knights are involved.”

“Did you ever wonder why Culhwch never became a saint?” Taethan asked.

“Can we stay on one subject?” Heden asked.

“Who’s the greatest Knight who ever lived?” Taethan asked.

Heden knew Taethan was trying to make a point. He gave in.

“Culhwch I guess,” Heden answered. “He was my father’s favorite, and my brothers’.”

Taethan stood before the lake, like it was an altar, and he was waiting for his god’s judgment. A sparrow landed on the ground before him and hopped around, searching the edge of the water for worms.

“Culhwch wanted to be the greatest knight on life,” Taethan said. “It was all he thought about. He hungered for it, the thought nourished him.”

Heden wasn’t stupid. He knew Taethan was also describing himself.

“But he was weak,” Taethan said with a shrug. “He was perfect, physically. No man could defeat him in battle. But he was vain and, in his vanity, he broke his oath. He lay with a woman who was married to another. Two transgressions. One against his oath, one against the law. They say she seduced him. As if that mattered.”

“I never heard this story,” Heden said.

“There was a tournament,” Taethan continued. He had entered into some kind of reverie, and Heden found himself borne along. The lake, the air, the timelessness of the place mesmerized him. “At a place called Tabernan.

“Culhwch jousted for his illicit lover’s favor, knowing she could not award it to him. He defeated seven knights in a row. He challenged them all, a dozen knights, and they were honor bound to accept, even though they knew they could not beat him. And he knew it too. He would beat every knight at the tournament in his passion and frustration. You would call him ‘bloody-minded.’” Taethan smiled, but did not look at Heden. It was as if he couldn’t see the Arrogate. Couldn’t see the lake. Only the tournament in his mind.

“The eighth knight, before he rode out, removed his helm and gave it to his wife, bent down to kiss her and his son. He left his helm with his wife and rode out with his face bare, his wife screaming. He knew the gods had chosen him for a purpose. He knew it meant his death,” Taethan said with a reverence Heden had never heard before, “he found himself unable to resist.”

Heden remembered Idris doing the same. The knight had been reenacting this story and everyone at the joust knew it except Heden.

“He rode out against Culhwch, whom all considered the greatest knight on life. To ride out without one’s helm is to admit that you are the weaker knight. It shames your opponent in the hopes of making him yield. For who would joust against a man who was so vulnerable? But Culhwch was blind; his passion for love consumed him.”

Heden knew what happened next. He felt like he was there.

“Culhwch rode out, heedless of his opponent’s state. His lance pierced the knight’s breastplate. Ran him through. Lifted him up, off his horse. He was dead by the time he hit the ground.”

Heden saw Idris’ lifeless face staring at him.

“Seeing the dead knight on the ground, his wife and son weeping over him, his face bare, Culhwch saw what he had done. He had broken his oath. He broke it when he lay with the woman, broke it when he challenged the knights. He rode out against a lesser knight who’d declared his unworthiness. Killed a knight who’d deliberately rode out displaying his weakness,” Taethen’s face held a mixture of puzzlement and awe.

“He dismounted and went to the man. Culhwch was already a legendary knight. Everyone believed it was only a matter of time before Adun granted him a miracle and made him a saint.

“The perfect knight would be able to perform a single miracle. He had waited for this all his life. The spectators had been waiting for it. The sign that the Gods recognized his virtue. But in order to be the perfect knight, one must be devoid of all vanity. All pride. Want. Desire.

“Culhwch’s vanity had led him to murder. And the guilt of it, the knowledge of it and everything he’d done, everything he’d failed to be, consumed him. He knelt beside the fallen knight. The widow, her child, stepped forward. All the tournament gathered around, pressed in.” Taethan used his hands to emulate their motion. Heden watched as Taethan, transported, reenacted the scene. “They were waiting to see him perform his miracle.”

“He lay his hands upon the dead knight, and prayed.” Taethan held out his hands as though laying them on the breast of Idris. “‘Adun,’ he said to himself. ‘I thought I served you all my days, but now I see I served only myself. I was vain, and I was prideful. I should be punished. But this man is innocent. He did no wrong. Do not punish him for my failure. Oh lord, I beg thee, spare this man’s life. Spare this man’s life.’”

“The crowd, of course, heard none of this. It was for the ears of Adun alone.

“Moments of silence passed, and the dead knight gasped a heaving breath. And then another. And then another. He breathed normally and his eyes opened. He saw the crowd assembled, saw his wife and son, and knew not why they looked on him with wonder.

“The crowd proclaimed ‘a miracle!’” Taethan threw up his hands and turned, as though praising the forest. Reenacting the scene from his mind. He smiled widely, caught up in the reaction the crowd must have felt. Exulting at the knight who performed a miracle and would be sainted. “They cheered and stamped and with the wife and son, bore the once-dead knight away.” He stretched a hand out to the forest as though he could see them.

After a moment, he dropped his hand and dropped his smile and turned back to face the lake like a judgment.

“Culhwch remained on the field. He remained, kneeling, weeping, sobbing, where he’d laid hands on the knight.

“He cried,” Taethan said. “While the others cheered. Because
he
alone
knew the truth. He alone knew there
had
been a miracle. The miracle was that Adun had permitted Culhwch, who was not worthy, to perform a miracle. He alone knew that Adun had judged him, and found him wanting. His life wasted. All his oaths broken.

“Culhwch could be a knight no more. Adun had meted out his punishment.”

Heden didn’t know what to say. Wasn’t sure Taethan could hear him anyway. The sounds of the lake intruded, breaking the reverie.

“Do not judge my fellows too harshly,” Taethan said, looking down at the water lapping at his feet. “It is I alone who bear the burden. I liked what you told Squire Aderyn.”

“What?” Heden asked, rattled by the change of subject.

“’A man is better than the worst thing he’s done.’” Taethan said wistfully.

Heden just stared at him, trying to understand the meaning of Taethan’s story. He knew it wasn’t about Sir Idris. It had something to do with Kavalen and Taethan. Something to do with the overwhelming guilt Taethan bore and which he was awakening in Heden. There was something Taethan wanted to do, but couldn’t, and so looked to Heden to solve.

“I know why you brought me out here,” Heden said suddenly.

This piqued Taethan’s interest. He looked to Heden with something like hope.

“You
want
me to figure out what happened.”

Taethan said nothing.

“You set out to stop the urq on your own. You had no idea I would follow you and when I did you tried to lose me. But when you changed your mind you brought me up here.”

Heden took Taethan’s silence as affirmation.

“You brought me up here and told me that story because if I can figure all this out without you breaking your oath, then we can go back to the priory. I can speak the ritual, and then the Green can ride out and save Ollghum Keep.”

Taethan picked up a rock and skipped it across the lake. He ignored Heden.

“Well you’re going to have to give me a little more help,” Heden bit the words off. “I know this has something to do with your guilt. You’re blaming yourself for something and you’re obsessed with….”

His obsession with death.

“I know how Kavalen died,” Heden said abruptly.

This intrigued Sir Taethan. “Indeed?” He said. “Prithee.”

“He killed himself,” Heden said.

Taethan just stared at him. Once again, Heden found himself unable to read the knight’s reaction.

“He killed himself and you could have stopped it but you didn’t.”

“Why,” Taethan began. “Why would I stop him, should he wish to end his own life? Is there no reason….”

“No,” Heden cut him off. “No, I don’t buy it. Death is never the answer.”

“Never? A man can see such things,” Taethan said, shaking his head. “Commit treachery by action or inaction. And sometimes, methinks, understanding alone can consume a man with misery.” Heden noticed he was dropping into the cant.

“Cavall’s teeth!” Heden said, invoking his own god unusually. “How are you still a knight?” he gestured to Taethan’s curly green hair. “You’re so obsessed with death and guilt and judgment. The one time I think one of you bastards is going to actually do something, take some action, even if its suicide against the urq, and you come up here instead. You asked me why I hated knights. This is why! You’re so self-absorbed. Like your pain and your guilt is the only thing that matters. You’re paralyzed.”

“That is no matter,” Taethan said. “The matter is why you, who know as much as I, are not.”

“Because I’m not as convinced of my own importance as you are!” Heden threw the words at him like an assault. He was coming to understand the knight. He thought the statement would affect him. He was right. Taethan didn’t take it well.