The Early Chronicles Book Four: The Queen and the General

Chapter 7

Swanwhite was disappointed to find Goran in the same mood the next morning.  He didn't eat breakfast with her and Rufus as he normally did, and when she did see him he was very quiet and cross.  She followed him out to the archery range where they shot at targets in silence for a long time.

"Perhaps you are falling ill."  She finally remarked.

"I am well."  He said dryly and let another arrow fly.  She notched hers but kept her gaze on him.  

"Have I offended you in some way?  You seem awfully angry."  

"You've done nothing."

"Won't you tell me what's wrong?  I hate seeing you like this."

"There is nothing amiss.  Leave me in peace."  His voice sounded hoarse as he furiously shot another arrow as quick as if he were in the middle of a battle.  Swanwhite's throat tightened with emotion but she said nothing and continued with her shooting.  It was painfully quiet the rest of the time until Swanwhite had finally had enough.

"I'm finished.  If you need me, send a servant to fetch me."  She said in a monotonous voice.  If he was going to give her the silent treatment, she could do the same.  

"Wait."  He called.  She spun around in hopefulness.  "I'm taking a few knights on a cross-country training session farther south."  He spoke very slowly.  "I might not be back until nightfall."  

Swanwhite's heart fell.  "Very well."  She bowed her head to him and left as quickly as she could.  

It was nearing the end of Sir Kauffman's stay at Chateau Kent so Swanwhite had promised to show him her library.  She tried to focus on spending time with the elder knight but her heart was heavy and her mind was spinning.  She had let her thoughts wander on several occasions and Sir Kauffman had to repeat himself.  Once she even dropped a book.

"Pardon me."  She said and bent to pick it up.  She could feel Sir Kauffman staring at her though she wasn't looking at him.

"My dear, you are not yourself today.  Is there something you wish to speak about?"

"It's nothing."  She tried to give him a confident smile.  He took the book from her hands and set it on a table.

"I've known you since you were no taller than my knee.  When something is bothering you, your forehead gains a slanted wrinkle just above your left eye."  He looked at her with a knowing expression.

Swanwhite relaxed and chuckled.  "I didn't even know that.  You're right, I can't hide anything from you."  She sighed and sat down in one of her arm chairs in the library.  "There's something wrong with the general and he won't tell me what it is."

"He's a busy man."

"I know that.  But this is different.  He's hiding something.  I want his trust.  He knows I trust him with my life."

"You care for him?"

Swanwhite shot up straight.  "Not you as well!  Everyone seems to be saying that."  She pressed a hand to her cheek and felt the warmth there.  Sir Kauffman chuckled slightly and reclined into a chair opposite hers.

"The people who know you well can see it in your eyes, my dear.  Have no shame in it."

"I-- I don't know--"  She didn't know how to answer.

"Do you care for him?  More than as a queen feels for a general?"  He looked at her carefully.  She thought for a moment.  The fact that she was this concerned about him seemed to say it all.  She remembered the strange buzzing sensation she felt whenever he kissed her hand or when he caught her when she fell.  She thought of his handsome fierce expression, and his undying loyalty towards her and the kingdom.  She remembered his kindness and his laugh, and how he cared so much for those who needed help.  There was no doubt in her mind.

"Yes.  More than a queen feels for a general.  But I don't think he feels the same."

"Perhaps his mood has something to do with you."

"How do you mean?"

"If he does feel something for you, he must be wrestling with it.  Any man of honor would.  No doubt he thinks you would be better off with a wealthy lord or a prince of Archenland."

Swanwhite gasped.  Much of what Sir Kauffman said made sense.  She felt a strange longing in her chest to speak with Goran.  "What should I do?"

"Talk to him.  It may take time, but he may soften."

"Thank you, Sir Kauffman."  Swanwhite stood and embraced her old friend.

Goran felt his mind pounding as hard as Valeon's hooves as he raced towards Glasswater Creek where Mekau had said the sentry post would be.  He carried a message bearing who-knows-what evil plot in his saddlebag, wishing he could toss it in the sea.  He tried to think of some way around his problem, and how he could intercept the message without Mekau knowing.  The sentries never came to the castle, Mekau came to them.  He could change the events from here, and it would all flow downwind from Mekau.  He reached beside him and pulled the message out of the saddle bag and carefully un-tied the ribbon.  He reined Valeon in to a stop and read the message.  It was written in a very swift manner and read: "It is time.  Send your men."  Goran's heart pounded.  Whatever siege they were planning was already set into motion.  An idea coming to him, he pulled a charcoal pencil from his back and added a few bumps and lines to the letters in It and Is.  He then added the word back after men.  Hoping the revisions were believable, he looked upon the message which now read: "Bide your time.  Send your men back."  He prayed silently for strength and then charged Valeon forward once more.

He followed the map Mekau had given him and it led him along Glasswater Creek until he came to a thickly wooded coppice beside the creek that was marked by a large red X on the map.  On the back there was a drawing of a large tree and a few more written instructions.  Goran searched around every tree until he found a very thickly-trunked match to the drawing.  He examined the tree and noticed what looked to be an arched outline in the bark.  He looked at the map's instructions again and then knocked five times on the bark.  To his amazement, the outline gave way to reveal that it was in fact the outline of a door.  It was opened just a crack so that he could see torchlight gleaming from inside.  

"Who goes there?"  A voice asked harshly.  Goran cleared his throat.

"A messenger from the gentry Mekau.  He sent me to deliver this."  Goran held out the parchment and bowed.  The door was opened more to reveal a hooded Calormen figure and Goran could see a set of stairs winding down behind him and a glimpse of a room below with chairs seated around a fire pit.  Another hooded figure was sitting in one of the chairs by the fire. The doorkeeper took the message and read it.

"Are you certain?"  The doorkeeper looked at Goran.

"This was the message I was sent to deliver.  Do not ask me about what its contents mean."  He tried to steady his voice and straighten his shoulders.  

"Very well.  You've served your purpose, now get out before someone sees you."  The stranger closed the door and Goran breathed a sigh of relief.  He returned to Valeon and rode home with his limbs feeling weak from the release of tension.  Perhaps they were out of some of the danger now.  

Valeon had hardly found his stride when Goran felt a searing pain in his left shoulder.  He cried out as he felt like his entire left side was on fire.  Valeon reared and Goran felt himself start to slip from the saddle, and everything went black.