Dragon Heart by Cecelia Holland Page B

Broga stood again, and looked all around him, among the rocks, the puddles, the distant surf, but there was nothing left of her, except the ring that had pledged her to Erdhart.
    Abruptly in Broga’s mind’s eye he imagined her carried off by gulls. Spreading wings and flying away. Turning into a great fish. His belly clenched. He could not see what this meant. Convulsively he flung the ring away. The soldiers had rigged the litter between the mules in tandem, and were waiting for him. He tramped by them with a curt wave and led them off the long way up to the castle.
    At the castle’s big main gate, four of his own men saluted him. The walk had calmed him and he stood to one side and watched without a shiver as the others carried in his father’s body. He said to the sergeant, “Go lay it in the hall, in state, as befits a King.” But he hung back when the litter went on.
    To the guard on the gate, he said, “Has my brother caught the Princes?”
    The guard cleared his throat and glanced at the other men. “No, my lord. We were just talking about that, my lord. Nobody can find them.”
    Broga looked around him at the gate yard. There was no other way out of the castle. “If they haven’t tried to get through this way then they’re hiding somewhere in this infernal place. What about the women?”
    â€œThey’re locked up, my lord. I heard that myself from the tower guard.”
    â€œWhere is my brother?” Broga loved to see Oto getting something wrong. But first there was Erdhart, and Broga said, “Stand a continual watch, here, then; they will have to show up here sometime. Seize them then and send to me,” and went into the castle to care for his father.
    *   *   *
    Pal Dawd, who had come here as sergeant of the Archduke Erdhart’s guard, was having some difficulty deciding who his officer was. Both of the Erdhartssons kept giving him orders, although Oto was to be crowned King, and perhaps that would solve it.
    On Broga’s order Dawd and his corporal Marwin laid out Erdhart on the stone table in the hall. Dawd sent the corporal up to the lord’s chamber for his best cloak, and to find servants and water to wash the body. Broga was pacing around and around the terrace room like an ox driving a millstone.
    â€œI want a railing built across that open edge. Maybe we can block it up entirely.” His voice rasped. “But first I’ll throw every one of the children off the edge. Let them feel what my father felt.” Broga flung himself down on his knees beside the corpse. “Oh, God. Take him into Your pure bosom; let him find Your perfect peace.”
    Marwin came back with the cloak, a fine brocaded cloth with fur and gold, but no servant had appeared with water. The body was filthy. Dawd went out to the next room, the big, round antechamber where all the stairs began, and looked for someone to help but there were only soldiers. Finally he beckoned over a couple of grunts and took them into the hall.
    Broga was still praying, fervent, his fists clutched to his face. Dawd pointed the two men at the corpse. “Get water and wash him.”
    Marwin came over to Dawd, his eyes sharp, and made a gesture with his head toward the corner. Dawd glanced at Broga, who was wholly bound up in his mourning, and followed Marwin over to the wall.
    â€œYou know,” Marwin said, his voice eager, “this is all coming apart, here.”
    â€œSssh,” Dawd said. Marwin faced him; over the other man’s shoulder Dawd could see Broga and he looked for signs he was listening. Hunched into his prayer, Broga did not move, except his shoulders, which trembled. The men washing the body were making enough noise to cover a whisper. Still Dawd moved off along the wall, toward the front of the terrace.
    Marwin pursued him. “Did you hear what they said, back there? They can’t find the Princes. And Oto wants to be