Or―as his back was turned to me and I could see nothing of his features―I assumed that the figure was that of Prince Vaspian. At least he wore a green cowled cloak like the one I had observed the son of Arkola to don before leaving the council chamber some little while before.
And now as he embraced the woman passionately, his hood fell back as the movement of his arms dislodged it, and I saw that he had the same sleek, black hair as the Prince.
And the next moment I made a discovery that drove the breath from my *body in a gasp of astonishment … a discovery which plunged my spirits into profound depression … a discovery at which I turned silently away with averted face and bowed shoulders, and left the maze of secret tunnels for the quiet of my room.
For in the intensity of their emotions, the man swung the woman he was embracing about so that from my secret hiding place I could see her features perfectly.
That rippling glory of red-gold hair―that tawny amber skin―that full, ripe, passionate mouth and those slanted, glorious eyes of deep emerald mystery―there could be no mistake.
It was Darloona of Shondakor, the woman I loved!
Darloona, clasped in a close embrace, her tear-wet cheeks and quivering ripe lips giving clear evidence of the intensity of her emotion, with―Prince Vaspian!
CHAPTER SEVEN
MARUD’S MISSION
The apartments that formed the suite of Prince Vaspian were superb. Glistening floors of marble tile, walls of fretted stone hung with beautiful old tapestries, lit by hanging lamps of pierced silver. There were, surprisingly, very few servants. I suppose this reflected the all but neurotic suspicions the Prince held towards nearly everyone around him. There were few that he felt he could trust, least of all, his servants.
The apartments were in a far corner of one wing of the royal palace, quite secluded and separated by many rooms from the main corridors. I was given a small but comfortably furnished room situated between the Prince’s living quarters and the main palace. I suppose that Vaspian figured any foes or spies or assassins dispatched by his enemies would have to manage to get past me before they could do him whatever harm they contemplated. The whole situation would have been rather amusing if it had not been so depressing.
During my first few days as chief bodyguard in the retinue of the Prince I had little enough to do. The Chac Yuul were still, in many ways, an occupying force―a conquering horde, holding the territories they had seized and momentarily expecting to have to do battle for them. Hence there was little in the way of court functions, balls, or masquerades. Arkola held court each day towards the hour of noon, signing proclamations, judging disputes, settling quarrels. The afternoon he spent training with his warriors or reviewing them.
Prince Vaspian had little interest in either of these matters. He was a very spoiled young man, vain and suspicious, idle and without any particular interests that I could see. He was certainly no warrior, hence mingling with the Black Legion soldiers was distasteful to him. Nor did he seem interested in the internal administration of the Legion and kept well away from his father’s court of justice. It was the shadowy subworld of plot― and counterplot, political maneuvering and rivalry, that consumed him. Those of the lords of the Black Legion that I had observed thus far were, with the single exception of Ool the Uncanny, and perhaps with the exception of the Usurper himself, simple war leaders, hard, strong men of camp and field, totally disinterested in the court intrigues of the Byzantine variety favored by Prince Vaspian. I have no doubt that Murrak and the other war leaders disliked Vaspian, for he was not at all their sort, and his sharp tongue, furtive eyes, and clever words would earn him few friends in any circle. But I could hardly conceive that they were plotting against him. For the most part, they simply left him alone.
As for Arkola, he seemed alternately amused and disgusted by his son. He seemed an able administrator and a powerful leader of men, with enormous charisma and an almost total lack of scruples. The oily intrigues, the cunning hints, the psychotic aura of suspicion and deceit and fear and envy that hung constantly about his son roused him to contempt.
While Vaspian seldom showed himself at what few court functions there were, he insisted on my being present. I was supposed to report back to him the words and actions of his “enemies.” And thus I suffered through endless tribal disputes, property settlements, arguments over new laws, and the like. Upon my return to the Prince’s quarters each day I was endlessly questioned about every conceivable detail of what had taken place. In what tone of voice had this or that komor argued for his clan? To whom did this or that lord glance when a certain question was raised? Had I seen this captain of the Chac Yuul whispering to that captain? Were any notes passed at the tribal court? Endless, reiterative, and boring were these sessions with the Prince my patron; and were it not for the fact that my service in his retinue had gained me entrance into the palace where Darloona was held, I cannot but think I should long since have somehow severed relations.
As for Darloona, I hardly ever saw her, and never close enough to speak to or even close enough for her to see me. A couple of times she appeared at the evening banquet, usually on the Prince’s arm, and since I was stationed immediately behind the cushioned seat where Vaspian sat at table, the first time she made her appearance I was seized with fear that she would recognize me. But it seems that it is not the custom of the Chac Yuul to mingle with their women at table, and hence she was seated some distance from the lords of the Black Legion.
I devoured her with my eyes, being careful to cast my own gaze downwards whenever she chanced to look my way.
But the eyes of the Princess invariably passed over me without lingering for a single moment or displaying the slightest flicker of either interest or recognition.
But it seems that my surreptitious gaze had caught the attention of at least one of the Lords of the Black Legion.
For, turning my eyes from Darloona, I found the cold, slitted gaze of Ool the Uncanny fixed upon me with speculative curiosity. A slight smile hovered over the placid features of the little wizard-priest, and I turned my eyes away with a semblance of indifference, trying to convey the impression that my attention to the Princess had merely been curiosity or some other idle emotion, and that I had not really noticed that my actions were under the scrutiny of Ool.
During my tenure in the ranks of the Black Legion I had set about to learn something of its recent history.
I had heard a few puzzling and cryptic hints as to the mode whereby the Chac Yuul had taken the walled city of Shondakor on the banks of the river Ajand. It was a bit curious that the city should have fallen so swiftly and so easily to its enemies. Generally, a city so walled about with strong masonry and so closely guarded, as from its gates and portcullises and barbicans and guard towers Shondakor seemed to have been, would have been able to stand against a siege for a very considerable length of time. I had heard, ere now, some reference to the fact that Shondakor had fallen virtually without siege―that the Black Legion warriors had been within the walls in force even before the first alarm was given.
I became friendly with some officers of my own rank who were also attached to palace duty, although I was careful not to form any relationship with a member of the retinue of any of the other lords, for fear of arousing the suspicions of my patron. Plying them with liquor on our off-duty hours, I learned much of the conquest of Shondakor.
Rather than bore my reader with a lengthy account of these conversations, I shall give the gist of what I gleaned from hours of desultory talk.