“‘Twas not that sort of thing at all. I believe I’ve embarrassed us.”
“Us? How?”
“I did not know she was the lady of the house. I came in feeling jolly, and I thought her some serving wench…”
“Dara?” I said, tensing.
“Aye, the same. I slapped her on the rump and went for a kiss or two —” He groaned. “Then she picked me up. She raised me off the ground and held me up over her head. Then she told me she was the lady of the house. Then she let me fall… I’m eighteen stone if I’m a pebble, man, and it was a long way down.” He took another drink, and I chuckled.
“She laughed, too,” he said ruefully. “She helped me up then and was not unkind, and of course I apologized — That brother of yours must be quite a man. I never met a girl that strong. The things she could do to a man…” There was awe in his voice. He shook his head slowly and tossed back the rest of his drink. “It was frightening — not to mention embarrassing,” he concluded.
“She accepted your apology?”
“Oh, yes. She was quite gracious about the whole thing. She told me to forget all about it, and said that she would, too.”
“Then why are you not in bed sleeping it off?”
“I was waiting up, in case you came in at an odd hour. I wanted to catch you right away.”
“Well, you have.”
He rose slowly and picked up his glass.
“Let’s go outside,” he said.
“Good idea.”
He picked up the brandy decanter on the way out, which I also thought was a good idea, and we followed a path through the garden behind the house. Finally, he heaved himself onto an old stone bench at the foot of a large oak tree, where he refilled both our glasses and took a drink from his own.
“Ah! He has good taste in liquor, too, your brother,” he said.
I seated myself beside him and filled my pipe.
“After I told her I was sorry and introduced myself, we got to talking for a time,” he said. “As soon as she learned I was with you, she wanted to know all sorts of things about Amber and shadows and you and the rest of your family.”
“Did you tell her anything?” I said, striking a light.
“Couldn’t have if I wanted to,” he said. “I had none of the answers.”
“Good.”
“It got me to thinking, though. I do not believe Benedict tells her too much, and I can see why. I would be careful what I say around her, Corwin. She seems over-curious.”
I nodded, puffing.
“There is a reason for it,” I said. “A very good reason. I am glad to know, though, that you keep your wits about you even when you have been drinking. Thanks for telling me.”
He shrugged and took a drink.
“A good bashing is a sobering thing. Also, your welfare is my welfare.”
“True. Does this version of Avalon meet with your approval?”
“Version? It is my Avalon,” he said. “A new generation of people is in the land, but it is the same place. I visited the Field of Thorns today, where I put down Jack Hailey’s bunch in your service. It was the same place.”
“The Field of Thorns…” I said, remembering.
“Yes, this is my Avalon,” he continued, “and I’ll be coming back here for my old age, if we live trough Amber.”
“You still want to come along?”
“All my life I’ve wanted to see Amber — well, since I first heard of it. That was from you, in happier times.”
“I do not really remember what I said. It must have been a good telling.”
“We were both wonderfully drunk that night, and it seemed but a brief while that you talked — weeping some of the time — telling me of the mighty mountain Kolvir and the green and golden spires of the city, of the promenades, the decks, the terraces, the flowers, the fountains… It seemed but a brief while, but it was most of the night — for before we staggered off to bed, the morning had begun. God! I could almost draw you a map of the place! I must see it before I die.”
“I do not remember that night,” I said slowly. “I must have been very, very drunk.”
He chuckled.
“We had some good times here in the old days,” he said. “And they do remember us here. But as people who lived very long ago — and they have many of the stories wrong. But hell! How many people get their stories right from day to day?”
I said nothing, smoking, thinking back.
“…All of which leads me to a question or two,” he said.
“Shoot.”
“Will your attack on Amber put you at great odds with your brother Benedict?”
“I really wish that I knew the answer to that one,” I said. “I think that it will, initially. But my move should be completed before he can reach Amber from here, in response to any distress call that goes out. That is, reach Amber with reinforcements. He could get there in no time at all, personally, if someone on the other end were helping. But that would serve little purpose. No. Rather than tear Amber apart, he will support whoever can hold it together, I am certain. Once I have ousted Eric, he will want the strife to stop right there and he will go along with my holding the throne, just to put an end to it. He will not really approve of the seizure in the first place, of course.”
“That is what I am getting at. Will there be bad blood between you afterward as a result of that?”
“I do not believe so. This is purely a matter of politics, and we have known one another most of our lives, he and I, and have always been on better terms with each other than either of us with Eric.”
“I see. Since you and I are in this together and Avalon seems to be Benedict’s now, I was wondering what his feelings would be about my returning here one day. Would he hate me for having helped you?”
“I doubt that very much. He has never been that sort of person.”
“Then let me carry things a step further. God knows I am an experienced military man, and if we succeed in taking Amber he will have ample evidence of the fact, with his right arm injured the way that it is and all, do you think he might consider taking me on as a field commander for his militia? I know this area so well. I could take him to the Field of Thorns and describe that battle. Hell! I would serve him well — as well as I served you.”
He laughed then.
“Pardon me. Better than I served you.”
I chuckled, sipped my drink.
“It would be tricky,” I said. “Of course I like the idea. But I am not too certain that you could ever enjoy his trust. It would seem too obvious a ploy on my part.”
“Damn politics! That is not what I meant! Soldiering is all that I know, and I love Avalon!”
“I believe you. But would he?”
“With only one arm he will be needing a good man about. He could —”
I began to laugh and restrained myself quickly, for the sound of laughter seems to carry for a good distance. Also, Ganelon’s feelings were involved.
“I am sorry,” I said. “Excuse me, please. You do not understand. You do not really understand who it was we talked with in the tent that night. He may have seemed an ordinary man to you — a handicapped one, at that. But this is not so. I fear Benedict. He is unlike any other being in Shadow or reality. He is the Master of Arms for Amber. Can you conceive of a millennium? A thousand years? Several of them? Can you understand a man who, for almost every day of a lifetime like that, has spent some time dwelling with weapons, tactics, strategies? Because you see him in a tiny kingdom, commanding a small militia, with a well-pruned orchard in his back yard, do not be deceived. All that there is of military science thunders in his head. He has often journeyed from shadow to shadow, witnessing variation after variation on the same battle, with but slightly altered circumstances, in order to test his theories of warfare. He has commanded armies so vast that you could watch them march by day after day and see no end to the columns. Although he is inconvenienced by the loss of his arm, I would not wish to fight with him either with weapons or barehanded. It is fortunate that he has no designs upon the throne, or he would be occupying it right now. If he were, I believe that I would give up at this moment and pay him homage. I fear Benedict.”