Robin Hobb - The Golden Fool

He nodded to Marshcroft as he said, ‘That was the agreed password. These are the folk we promised to meet and escort.’ He turned back to the woman. ‘But why are you here rather than at our arranged rendezvous?’

She laughed lightly, but bitterly. ‘We have learned a measure of caution in the past, my lord, in dealing with Farseers. You will forgive us if we still employ it. It has saved many a life here.’

‘You have not always been fairly dealt with, so I will excuse your suspicion. I am here, as you requested, to assure you that we offer the emissaries safe passage to Buckkeep Castle.’

The woman nodded. ‘And have you brought for us a hostage, one nobly born, as we requested?’

For the first time, the Queen spoke. ‘He is here. I give you my son.’

Dutiful went white. Marshcroft burst out, ‘My Queen, I beg you, no!’ He turned back to the Old Blood woman. ‘Lady, if it please you, I was told nothing of a hostage. Do not take my prince from my protection. Take me instead!’

Did you know of this? I demanded of Dutiful.

No. But I understand her reasoning. His response was oddly calm.

He spoke his next words aloud, but they were for me as much as for the guard. ‘Peace, Marshcroft. This is my mother’s decision, and I will obey it. No one will fault you for following your queen’s will. For in this, I am Sacrifice for my people.’ He turned to look at his mother. His face was still pale, but his voice was firm. He was proud of this moment, I knew suddenly. Proud to serve in this way, proud that she had thought him mature enough to face this challenge. ‘If it is my mother’s will, then I put my life in your hands. And if any of your folk are harmed, then I am willing to forfeit.’

‘And I, too, will remain as surety for my queen’s word.’ Laurel’s soft voice rang clear in the shocked silence that followed. The Old Blood woman nodded gravely. Laurel was obviously well known to her.

My thoughts raced as I tried to put it all together. Of course the Old Blood folk would have asked for a hostage. Safe passage and hidden identities would not protect their chosen leaders once they were inside Buckkeep’s walls. Despite Chade’s dismissal of their request, I should have known that someone would have to serve. But why did it have to be the Prince? And why could not the Queen have chosen me to remain at his side instead of Laurel? I looked at Kettricken with new eyes. The subterfuge surprised me, as did her circumvention of Chade. Well I knew he would never have agreed to this. How had she arranged it all? Through Laurel? Marshcroft flung himself from his horse and knelt at her feet in the sogging snow, begging her not to do this, to let him be hostage instead, or at least to let him and five chosen men remain with the Prince. But she was adamant. Dutiful stepped down from his mount and drew Marshcroft to his feet. ‘No one will ever fault you for this, even if it goes awry,’ he sought to assure him. ‘My lady mother is here to give me over; that was why she came. All will know it was her will, not yours, that this be done. I beg you, good man, remount and take our queen safely home.’ He raised his voice, ‘Yes, and all who ride back with you, hear me. Guard these folk as if my life depended on it, for I assure you that it does. That is how you can best serve me.’

The Old Blood woman spoke then to Marshcroft, saying, ‘I promise both you and his mother that he will be treated well, so long as our own are treated similarly. On this you have my word.’

Marshcroft looked little comforted by it.

I was in a quandary as I sat and watched the exchange happen. I will double back and follow, I promised the Prince.

No. My mother has given her word that we will treat fairly with them, and so we shall. If I have need of you, I shall let you know. This I promise you. But for now, let me do this thing she has entrusted to me.

By then our emissaries were trickling in from the forest in twos and threes. Some brought their Wit-beasts. I heard the high cry of a hawk overhead, and knew that I had guessed correctly earlier that day. Another man rode with a spotted dog at his stirrup. One woman came towards us leading a milk-cow heavy with calf. But of the dozen folk, faces swathed and variously mounted, who came to join us, most were alone. I wondered if they had left their animals behind or were currently unpaired.

One man immediately caught my attention. He was probably about fifty, but he wore his years well as some active men do. He walked with a sailor's roll, leading a horse that he obviously mistrusted. Both the hair of his head and his short-trimmed beard were steely grey, and his eyes the same but with a hint of blue. Other than the woman who had first greeted us, he was the only Old Blood who went unmasked. Yet it was not his appearance that struck me so much as the deference the other Old Bloods accorded him. They stepped back for him as if he were either holy or mad. The Old Blood woman who had first greeted us indicated him with a flourish.

'You have entrusted us with Prince Dutiful. This we little expected you would do, despite the word that was sent to us. Yet I was determined that if you gave us a hostage that indicated you had true respect for us, we would do the same. We give you Web. He is of the oldest Old Blood, an unmingled bloodline and the last of that heritage. We have no nobility amongst ourselves, no kings nor queens. But from time to time we do have one such as Web. He does not rule us, but he does listen to us, and we listen to him. Mind that you treat all my people well, but Web treat as if he were your prince.

It seemed a very strange introduction to me. I knew little more about the man than I had when she started speaking, and yet all the Old Blood behaved as if she had bestowed a gift upon us. I saved it up to expound on to Chade.

I thought of Skilling ahead to Thick to ask him to tell Chade what the Queen had done, but I decided against it. The little man often scrambled messages, and I did not want Chade spurred into rash action. I’d seen enough of that for one day. As our two groups parted, leaving the Prince and Laurel sitting their horses and surrounded by armed Witted, the rain suddenly came pelting down. The woman who had spoken called after us, ‘Three days! Return my people unharmed in three days!’

The Queen turned back and nodded to her gravely. The reminder had scarcely been needed. It already seemed far too long a time to entrust the well-being of our prince to them.

Marshcroft did his best to form up his troops protectively about the Old Bloods, but they were more than we had expected and his guard was spread thin. I was towards the end of the procession, riding behind the woman who led her Wit-cow. I had thought the bearded man would insist on some sort of honoured place in the formation, perhaps riding alongside the Queen. Instead, Web rode towards the rear, right in front of me. I glanced back for a final glimpse of my prince sitting his horse in the freezing rain. When I looked forward again, I found the man watching me.

‘Braver than I thought a boy of his years would be. Tougher than I thought a prince would be,’ Web observed to me. The guardsman to my right scowled, but I nodded gravely. Web held my eyes for a time before he looked away. I felt uneasy that he had singled me out for his words.

Before we reached Buckkeep, I was soaked through. The rain turned to a sloppy snow, making the trail treacherous and slowing our progress. The guards at the gate admitted us without question or delay, but as we rode past, I saw one’s eyes widen and read his lips as he whispered to his fellow, ‘The Prince is gone!’ So the rumour fled before us into Buckkeep.

In the courtyard, Marshcroft assisted the Queen’s dismount. Chade was there to meet us. He lost control for an instant when he realized the Prince had not returned. His sharp green gaze sought me immediately. I avoided meeting it, as much because I had no information for him as because I did not want folks to connect us. It was not difficult. The courtyard had become a place of trampled snow and mud, full of milling folk and animals. The milk-cow’s distressed intermittent mooing mingled with the general discord of voices. There were folk from our stables waiting to take our beasts and those of our guests, but they had not been prepared for the pregnant cow, nor for a soaking and masked woman who would not leave her animal but feared to enter our stables alone.