Savage Games of Lord Zarak (11 page)

“That is not a good plan,” Goodman said quickly. “The inside of that castle is swarming with guards. It would be like stepping on an anthill. Day or night.”

Silence fell over the group. The fire hissed. A log settled, sending more sparks flying upward.

“I know you came to help, my friends,” Goodman said sympathetically, “and you have been disappointed. But all is not yet lost.”

At that moment old Bentain got to his feet. “Goodman is right,” he said. “It is never a good time to give up. As long as we are alive, we have hope. As long as we have hope, we are alive. But when hope is gone, we might as well jump into a hole and pull it in after us, as the ancient saying goes.”

“Do you have any ideas, Bentain?” Dave asked.

“I have one.”

“Well, let's have it,” Reb said. “Whatever it is, it'll be better than anything I've got.”

“I have been thinking much about this. Goél sent you young people to this place. I believe that he knows what is going on. We know that the king is not going to free your friends, so I think we had better get prepared —even if we don't know what we are preparing for.”

“I'm for that!” Reb exclaimed enthusiastically. He was an excitable boy anyway, always unable to sit still. “Goodman, how many men can you raise?”

“As far as good hard-fighting men are concerned— maybe a hundred. Of course, there are farmers around who would probably join us if they saw any hope, but they are much discouraged. We can't count on much help from them.”

“Then let's get ourselves ready. Why don't you call all your men together? We'll gather every weapon we can lay our hands on. And then, when the break comes, we'll be ready for it.”

“Sounds good to me, Reb,” Wash said. “I'm going crazy just sitting around here doing nothing.”

“All right, I will,” Goodman said with determination. He stood, and his glance went around the Sleepers. “I don't know Goél, but you have made me believe in him. I'll try to put that same confidence into my men.” He turned and walked off into the darkness without another word.

“I wish I could be as quiet as he is in the woods,” Dave said enviously. “Well, anyway, we'll be doing something.”

 

“What's the matter, daughter? You seem troubled today.”

Lady Lara looked up at the king. She was sitting on the marble bench in the garden. The birds sang in the tree above them, and hummingbirds were coming and going to the large purple blossoms of a nearby trumpet vine. She shifted uneasily. “What makes you think something's wrong, Father?”

King Falmor sat on the bench beside his daughter. He put out a hand and touched her hair. “I wish you looked like your mother instead of like me. I've always wished that.” He smiled sadly, saying, “If you did, I'd always be able to see her every time I look at you.”

Lara was surprised. Such gentleness in her father was unusual. He usually seemed preoccupied with his responsibilities, and she had grown up getting affection from him only at odd moments. In fact, much of the time he seemed completely under the sway of some dark shadow that hung over him.

“I want to ask you something, Father. What was it like when Mother was alive?”

“What was it like!” the king exclaimed. His eyes looked off into the distance. “Everything seemed good
and lovely then. She made everything about her lovely, Lara.”

Lady Lara thought about this. Then she said gently, “I think she would not like some of the things that are going on today, Father.”

The king turned his eyes back to her, puzzled. “What things?”

“The way we live. You—you're so
gloomy,
Father.”

“Gloomy! Me?”

“You just don't seem to have any real happiness. I know you miss Mother, but it's been so many years now. Why, you could have married again. You still could. I would not object.”

“I could never do that!”

“Why do you say that? Mother was a wonderful woman, but she's gone now. And you're lonely.”

“Oh, I have many things to keep me occupied. There is riding and hawking and hunting—”

“Have you ever thought,” Lara asked cautiously, “that perhaps we don't pay enough attention to what's happening to our people?”

“Now, daughter, you know that Lord Zarak takes care of all of that. He's a good administrator.”

“I suppose, if you say so. But I have been thinking on it, and there are so many
poor
people, Father. They're hungry, and they're forbidden to hunt the deer that so freely roam the forest.”

“The deer are the king's property! They are for sport only.”

“But, Father, if the people are hungry, isn't it more important that they have something to eat than that you and Lord Zarak and his men have sport?”

The king frowned. “I've never heard you talk like this before.”

“I've been thinking a lot, Father. And one thing I know—from what you tell me of my mother and from what others say about her—she would have hated the Hunt of Death.”

“You cannot know what your mother would have thought.”

“You've always said she was a gentle woman with a great deal of love.”

“That she was. That she was.”

“Then how can you think she would have liked to see some poor man hunted to death and speared as if he were an animal? You know she would have hated it, don't you, Father?”

King Falmor stroked his chin, and he looked disturbed. “I don't know,” he muttered after a while. “The Hunt wasn't planned. It just . . . sort of started.”

“And we know who started it, don't we? Lord Zarak! And if Mother were alive, I'm sure she would have protested.”

The king got to his feet and paced back and forth, as if what she said had stirred something within him. Suddenly he said, “But why do you talk to me like this, daughter? And why do you talk in this way about Lord Zarak? He expects to marry you one day.”

“I'll never marry Lord Zarak, Father! Never!”

The vehemence of his daughter's reply brought King Falmor up short. He stopped his pacing and turned around. “You have never said anything like this before.”

“I have never trusted him,” she said flatly. “He is a cruel man. If he is cruel to serfs, he will be cruel to his wife. And I'm not certain he is a good man to rule over the kingdom. You are the king, Father, and yet you let such a man as he have so much authority.”

“He is an efficient man!”

“He may be efficient, but starving people aren't happy.” Lara found herself saying things that indeed she had never said before. “And when you have unhappy subjects,” she finished, “that is not good. Tell me, Father, how did the people react when you first became king and you and mother married?”

A happy light came into the king's eyes. “They cheered us everywhere we went. They were filled with love for us. I remember it well.”

“And what do they do now?” She waited for him to answer, but he lowered his head. “They flee from you whenever they can, don't they?” When he still did not answer, she said, “They have become afraid of you. That's why. And it is Lord Zarak who has made you an object of fear to the very people who ought to love you.”

The king's face turned pale, and he began walking away. He was obviously shaken by the conversation and wanted to hear no more.

But Lara ran after him. Seizing his arm, she planted herself in front of him. “Father, I want you to release Roland from the Hunt of Death.”

“Roland the slave?”

“Yes. Roland. He's done absolutely nothing wrong.”

“Why, he's proven himself to be a traitor.”

“Give me one bit of evidence that he is a traitor, Father. Just one.” The king searched his mind. “Zarak said—” “You see, Father? ‘Zarak said—' You're not thinking for yourself. That terrible man has some kind of
power
over you.”

“You must not talk like this!” the king cried. “I don't want to hear it!” He went around her and almost ran toward the castle.

Lady Lara looked after him sadly.
There's no point in trying to talk him into releasing Roland,
she thought.
No point at all.

The rest of the day, Lara stayed in her rooms and thought about her father. She also thought about herself. It was a time of self-searching. She thought of how revolting she found the whole idea of hunting human beings.
So why didn't I ever say anything before?
she asked herself. And she knew it was because she had been too self-centered.

Finally she straightened, and her lips grew tight with determination.
I'm going to see Roland.
And she swept out of her chamber.

When the princess reached the lower dungeon area, the startled guard stammered, “L—Lady Lara!” “Out of the way! I want to visit the prisoner Roland.” “But, my lady, no visitors are ever allowed in the lower dungeon!”

“Do you want me to report to my father that you have disobeyed me? Perhaps you will be the quarry in the next Hunt of Death.”

“No—no, my lady! Come. I will take you to him.”

 

Roland heard footsteps in the passage outside his cell, and he got to his feet. This was odd. It was not time for them to bring food or the smelly, lukewarm water.

Then the door opened, and he shielded his eyes against the light of a torch.

“Come out, fellow!” the guard ordered.

Roland stumbled into the passageway. His legs were stiff. He blinked owlishly and managed to see a
form before him. But he could not believe what he was seeing. “L–Lady Lara!” he stammered.

“Yes, Roland.” Lady Lara turned to the guard. “Leave us alone!”

The guard planted his torch in a wall bracket and walked away.

She waited until he was out of hearing and then moved closer. “I'm sorry to find you like this, Roland.”

Roland still could not believe what he was seeing or hearing. He stared into the face of the princess but saw no mockery there. He could only shake his head. “I can't believe that you would care how you found me.”

“I–I can't, either. But it seems I do. Ever since I've known you I've been . . .”

“You've been what?” he asked, when she did not finish.

“I've–I've been thinking. I've always been especially catered to. Perhaps all princesses are. But I grew up with little direction and with getting anything I wanted. I've been talking to your friend Sarah, and she has told me much about the Sleepers and about you— and about Goél. And I have been thinking . . .”

Roland straightened up with interest. “I can tell you this, Lady Lara. One day Goél will come to this land, and when that day comes, he will make this kingdom a lot different.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I have not known him long, but my father has. My father says that Goél never fails to set wrongs right wherever he goes. He has a plan for this kingdom, and he has sent us to your land as part of that plan.”

“Roland, you've got to get away from here. They are planning to make you the quarry in the Hunt of Death tomorrow.”

“How can I escape?” he asked. “If I try to walk out that door, they will kill me on the spot.”

“Not if I go with you.”

Roland blinked with surprise. “That's a kind heart speaking, Lady Lara,” he said slowly. He studied her face again and realized that something was different. “Someone told me once that, deep down, there was kindness in you. I didn't believe it at the time, but I do now.”

She bowed her head and said nothing.

He said, “But I can't escape. I'd have to get past twenty guards, all of them armed.”

“But they would listen to me!”

“I do not think so. I fear they would send for Lord Zarak at once. They're all loyal to him. And then you know what would happen.”

She stood silent in the dungeon passageway. He could tell that she knew this in her heart.

“I'm so sorry, Roland,” she said quietly. “I'll go to my father again. I'll get down on my knees and beg him to let you go.” She took a step forward suddenly and put out her hands.

He took them and said huskily, “Princess, you're not the girl I thought you were. You are much more.”

She looked straight into his eyes. “And once I saw rebellion in your eyes, but now I see only strength,” she murmured. She stood for a moment, then turned away. “I will go to my father. Maybe this time he will listen.”

She left him then, and the guard came back. “Back into the cell, fellow. Your last night on earth is coming up. No one ever escapes from the hunters.” The man laughed harshly and shoved Roland into the cell.

The door clanked, and the darkness set in again.

 

R
oland came out of a deep sleep instantly. Fear shot through him, and he sat up, bracing his back against the cell wall. Only a pale light came through the grate of his dungeon door, just enough for the guards to see through. But his eyes were accustomed to the darkness, and shock ran over him when he saw a figure standing in the cell.