He said...
"So, we need to speak, Bill."
"Is there a problem?"
Here it was, some comment about his behavior, his demeanor, something wrong. He knew it was a matter of time before the ridiculousness of the situation would be made obvious. He gritted his teeth, why did Lizzie push this?
He rose from his, seat filling the room. She shook her head, "no, no problem. But I thought maybe we should talk further about our vassal/liege situation." She lit a cigarette and sat down. "Please sit down, Bill, everything is all right. I just want to make sure you still want to do this, without the insistent eye and tone of Lady Elizabeth." She smiled kindly.
‘She’s uncomfortable,’ he could sense it and his trained eye watched the signs, perhaps it would all be off, another chance lost.
He nodded and sat back down. "I's the way i' works, I know tha'. I ain't changed my mind; if you 'ave, I'll of course unn'erstan'."
Stifling a surprising rage he covered the moment with a habitual act.
Pulling out a cigar he slowly snipped the end and lit it with a wooden match. "If yah still wan' me I'm 'ere."
He knew it was pathetic; had he actually said such an insipidly weak thing? Why? He knew why, but not why it failed to make him feel weak.
She just stared at him for a second before saying, "of course I still want you. I just wanted to make sure about you. I don't want you thinking you were forced into this . . . not like I think you could be forced but you know what I mean."
‘Of course I still want you.’ His first impulse was inappropriate; he felt the fool for thinking it and forced it back down.
"All right, Bill, what is it that you want from me? As your liege?"
He paused, seriously considering the question, before speaking, he blew a smoke ring.
‘I want you to pretend I’m normal, to think of me as an equal, maybe just maybe you and I can…” It wasn’t what he said, it wasn’t what he thought, he felt it, but he remained silent, letting the impossible thought dissipate with the smoke ring.
"She sprung ‘is on me, t’ be hones', bu’ i's a choice I'd make.
‘For reasons I’ll never mention, so I’ll just lie acceptably.’
I's simple, you managed t’ shoo’ up the ranks pre'y damned fas'. I's an accomplishmen'. I'd like t' do the same, an' my skills may complimen' yours. Yer good wiff books, an' yah got a fair amoun’ of real life workin’ down as well, bu' I work wiff a differen' elemen' don' I? Call i' an expectation of synergy." He looked down taking another drag, "'sides, yah know we ge' along."
He had tried to hold even the last comment back, how had it escaped?
She nodded, blowing out smoke. "That makes a bloody brilliant amount of sense, Bill. And we do get along well. Excellent," she smiled a bit brighter and then looked at the wall for a second, the smile fading a tad.
He’d made the mistake, given away too much, perhaps she just caught it.
"How do you stand on tradition, Bill?"
"Tradition? I's the law wiff us, in't it?"
"No, not the Traditions, tradition. Swearing oaths and the like. I want to make this personal to us both."
He shook his head, "tha's wha' I mean. Invictus, Firs' Estate, Unconquored, all tha'. We ain’t exac'ly into rocking the boat. Jus' cause I've never been sworn don' mean it wasn' drilled into me head."
He bristled, perhaps she was right, he didn’t look brilliant, he wasn’t. She wanted to be sure for his sake he knew the score. His heart fell.
She frowned, "I'm so sorry . . . I didn't mean . . . shite, I didn't mean to imply you didn't know anything or . . . " she ran her fingers through her hair, "oh, bugger, I just keep cocking this up, don't I? I just always associate law with the traditions, capital 'T' . . . not 'no white after labor day' or whatever else these wankers in this country do . . . bloody hell." Through obvious discomfort, she kept pressing on, "oaths, how do you feel about them? I know it is our way, and I am not balking from that, but how do you picture it? I'm trying to get a sense, here."
The frustration passed. She felt as awkward as he did, it was a small comfort, but he tried to smooth it.
He smiled, "don' worry, I ain' done ‘is before either. I ain' ol' fashioned, bu' I know the oaths is wha' keeps us strong. I's funny when yah think of i'. I don' picture nuffin' bu' I know i' will be a change in my life, yah know?"
He faltered, why did he not just shut up?
She nodded again, "mine as well."
Standing, she walked to the small desk in the room, pulled out a piece of paper and a pen and began to write. She didn't even look at the paper as she wrote, scrawling something quickly, as if from memory. When she was done she walked to Bill and handed it to him, standing directly in front of him.
The handwriting was perfectly legible and amazingly clear:
"Lady Senator Holmescroft, I do swear myself unto you.
As the blade to the sword, as the arrow to the bow, as the edge to the
Axe, I will be with you and protect you.
Should the heavens break, should the earth be torn asunder, should all
The world be cast into damnation, I will serve you and honor you.
Not the sharpest steel, nor the most lurid of temptations, nor the
Greatest horde can break this vow: I will follow you."
She stood in front of him as he read. When he was finished, she said simply, "it's the only one I truly know."
He looked it over. His mind raced over the oath, half seeing it. Was this possible? Why did he crave it so? The desire was as strong as any he’d known, and yet he knew it was irrational. Perhaps she was responding to that, she needed a way out, a way to save face.
"Allrigh' is 'is wha' you wan’ then? Lizzie can be a bi' pushy a' times."
"If you aren't comfortable with it, then we can write something else. It's just . . . it's the first oath I took amongst the Unconquered." She sat back down, “and Lady Elizabeth didn't push me toward this. She suggested it and I think it is a damn good idea, still. I could have said 'no' to her, if this was something I didn't want. I am capable of that."
Hoping it was true, he smiled, "jus' checkin, an I'm fine wif de oath as is, but where's your bit?"
Her mouth formed a silent, "oh, forgot to write that," and took the paper from Sykes, turning and bending over the coffee table to write, scrawling on the back of the sheet. She shuddered almost imperceptibly, then stood and handed it back to him.
"Lord William Sykes, As the sun to the dawn, as the moon to the night, as the stars to the
sea, I shall watch over you and guide you.
Should ten thousand march, should a hundred thousand clamor, should
all the world claim your head, you shall know no harm.
There is nothing so strong as loyalty. There is nothing so strong as
honor. There is nothing so strong as duty."
She waited for him to read it.
Nodding again, he forced himself to stay focused on the particulars, "i' makes sense tah me. 'Ow yah wanna do 'is? Public or Private?"
She said, "private," decisively. "If you don't mind, of course. I just always thought that this was between liege and vassal. Those public ones at Invictus meetings seem so . . . exceptionally colonial."
After an odd moment of silence, Delilah's cell phone rang. She reached for it, looked at the caller-id and raised one eyebrow. She answered it with no emotion whatsoever, "Hello."
She paused and listened for a moment, then replied "of course, Alder Cassio, I would be pleased with that. And I have something that I need to discuss with you, but in person if you do not mind." Pause. "Yes, of course." Pause. "Good night, then."
Bill watched her quietly, saying nothing for a moment. "Cassio? The one wha' wen' after the St. George? 'at's an odd call I'd think."
"Odder than you may guess. I am going to ask him to witness our oath." She nodded a bit, and smiled as she looked at Sykes again.
Why? This was the Invictus game, motivations, and understanding them. He lit another cigar and looked thoughtful. He preferred a direct approach at times. "There's more tah this 'an I know. Wha's the message?"
"Three, actually. Number one, Cassio will of course let key people in the Northeast know what he witnessed. So he will be our messenger in this matter. The dear Reverend will be extremely displeased to know that the Invictus that he wanted as his vassal has now flourished well away from his watchful eye. Number two, out of respect to another who can't be here to witness, I have asked a member of his direct line. Number three, as a covert showing that I respect Alder Cassio's play to protect his family and crawl out from under the dear Reverand Jarvis' skirts, no matter what his public punishment. And number four, because he is neutral within this alliance and within this city."
Bill nodded, "though' there was more to it, bu' why is it yer sendin' messages. I know I jus' signed on, bu' tha' means I'm gonna 'ave to deal wiff yer enemies as well. Jarvis may be a bit of an ass bu' e's one wif teeth, wha' did 'e do?"
‘You’re in the deep end now son, this girl isn’t playing.’ The thought echoed in his mind, he was used to elders, he avoided many of them out of a sense of annoyance they would find offensive. The truth was they were dangerous, and what it took to drive a point home to something that old was usually a final statement.
She bristled, this was an epic grudge. "Put simply, Jarvis was instrumental in the death of my first liege lord, Gideon Crane. I will bore you with the details of his treachery some other night." She gripped the arm rest a bit forcefully, but the problem is not truly that he had a hand in a monomacy that was not his own, it was that it was a serious waste to the First Estate. The Reverend Jarvis is the sole reason that Thomas Kent, a carthian, is in power and not an Invictus. So he, even baring my personal reasons to despise him, is an irresponsible prat who lost the Unconquered one of the most powerful cities in the United States and possibly the world. He has since refused to take responsibility for his actions." She ungripped the arm and leaned forward for a cigarette, "I am finished watching the Invictus take this buggery because we have the incapable in our midst. It makes me too angry to express in the English language, to be honest." She lit her cigarette, still leaning forward a bit as she slowly put the lighter away, looking contemplative.
He sat quietly, thinking and watching the smoke. "I's funny, aint many ah the elders worth their salt t' be fair. Too comfortable I s'pose. I know it aint fitting fer me tah say it, bu' 'ave yah seen 'ow many sit there, baskin' in the glo o' their achievemen's no' ge'in nuffin done?"
He needed to shut up, that admission was a heresy to the Invictus. Yet he said it, and she was not angered. Perhaps this was the tie, two young kindred with something to prove among dusty relics.
She smiled slowly at him, "yes, actually, I've seen that quite a bit. They've forgotten themselves, and I don't mean through torpor. At any given point in time there are at least a thousand creatures who would rid the world of you, or me, or anyone for that matter, and take what you have, take your place. All are expendable. But if you don't forget that, and keep working for more, for better, for higher, then no one can take your place." She ashed her cigarette and stood, "would you like a drink, Bill?"
He nodded, "don' min' if I do." He smoked in silence a bit longer, eyes focused on her now, almost staring, slightly unnerving. "'Ow is it a posh Lady like yerself knows 'is sor' a thin'?"
She bent over and pulled a fresh bottle of scotch out of the cabinet. Merely extending the bottle behind her and still bent over, she said, "this all right for you, then?"
He looked at the scotch and nodded appreciatively, his eyes locking back on hers as she speaks.
‘Must not look down. Business, keep your mind on business.’ It was a poor mantra.
"It works like this, Bill. Yes, I have land and title in Britain. I have money, education, and power. And to top it all off, I am a vampire. These things have served me very well in my pursuits. But I am not a stupid shrinking violet who believes that I can get by on my looks and name alone. In fact, I never *could* do that. So I worked. And I studied. And I snuck out of my home many times beginning at a very young age and saw where the rest of the world, the real world, was." She smiled a bit again and stood. "And to be honest, I have not always been the most lawful creature on the planet."
"'At's all well an good, bu' yah din't need tah did yah. You 'ad wha' mos' folks wouldah, an' usually did, kill for. Why'd yah do i' all?"
She handed him a glass full of scotch and then just leaned against the arm of the loveseat he was occupying for a moment, meeting his stare.
"Put simply: because nothing handed to me was ever worth shit, Bill." She took a drink, her eyes still on him.
She always seemed to have the right answers, he wished he could match that.
He softened and relaxed, "allrigh' i' makes sense I s'pose. I can' say I unnerstan' bu' my life was a bi' diff'ren'."
She sat in the spot nearest to him she could, but still tried not to impose, and then looked at him again. "I'd like to hear about it, if it isn't asking too much."
His mind blanked; why was she so close and why did it fluster him.
He shrugged, "ain't much of a secret really. My voice gives it mos'ly away. Eas' end, 1960's an' 70's weren' much good tah be 'ad."
She nodded, as her heart sank, "no wonder.”She had said those two words with a bit of sadness and shame to her voice, and drained her drink. She stood, poured herself another, then just took the bottle with her to the table and put it down. She lit another cigarette, offered a cigar to Sykes, and refilled his drink. Finally, she leaned her head back.
He looked at her a moment and blinked. "I don' mean tah seem thick, bu', whatcha mean by tha'?"
She lifted herself slowly and looked at him. "It means 'no wonder he looked at me like I am insane; he thinks I'm just another useless bint with a title and money and little else.' It means 'no wonder, I must come off like a completely arrogant wanker to him.' And to be fair, I'm really not, but I'm pretty certain I know the kind of woman from my station you are used to dealing with, and I don't blame your low look on them . . . or me by association." There was no venom in her tone, simply sadness and a bit of resignation.
Bill, however, seemed genuinely upset by her reaction.
He stammered, it was inevitable, cocking up came naturally to him, best be honest.
"Is no' tha' a' all." Stubbing out the cigar he stood, now towering over her through no effort, "is no' tha' I think yer like most ah the ladies I meet, is jus'... Well I ain' exac'ly yer equal in ‘is playgroun' an’ it'll be a long time b’for anyone fergets 'at."
"Wait, not my equal in the First Estate? But I thought you meant . . . isn't that why you agreed to . . ?" she shook her head, and looked down at her lap, clearly not understanding.
"Bill, please sit down. I didn't mean to piss you off." She looked rather upset, but she pressed on. "I know there are many women, women of money and title, who've rested on that. That is what got them through life, and ONLY that. And they a some of the most insipid, mentally inferior creatures I have ever had the displeasure of meeting. I never wanted to be that kind of creature. Coming from the East end dealing with an exceptionally more difficult life that I could conceive of, I thought you looked at me as if I were like them. I know a whole world of things was easier for me, and you probably don't believe that I've gone through hardship . . . one man's heaven is another man's hell." She lit another cigarette.
She stopped and shifted again, "well, bugger! As you can see, all that education of mine amounts to nothing when my brain, my emotions and my mouth don't have a successful summit meeting."
He shook his head, "I din' mean tah insul' yah." Going quiet, he lit another cigar and sat back down, "I ain' mad, jus feelin' ou' ah my elemen'"
She leaned forward as she curled her legs underneath her, "what do you mean, 'feeling out your element'? I don't understand."
He looked down, "i' ain' of'en, min' yah, bu' ev'ry once in a while I ge' reminded ah where it is I'm from an' wha' tha’ means. I ain' posh, an' I ain' an aristotra', an' you are, ain' yah?"
"Don' ge' me wron' I'm dead sure I can cu' the Invictus, 'ey're mos'ly sof' ponces to be true'ful, bu' 'at don' mean when I mee'... well you ain' like em is yah? 'At's all."
If he could have pummeled the wall he would have. His frustration was intolerable, but his embarrassment kept him in check.
"Bill, I . . .” she paused for a moment and then continued, looking embarrassed. She shifted forward a bit more and looked into his eyes. "Why?"
He looked at her and smiled, "can' say I could tell yah why t' be fair...”
‘I may be dumb but I’m not that dumb.’
“An i's not nuffing 'at'll be a problem is i'?"
"I really hope it's not a problem, Bill. I don't want it to be," she leaned forward a little more and extended her hand toward his, almost subconsciously, still looking at him. When she realized what she was doing she pulled her hand back a bit and looked embarrassed for a second. "Yes, please don't think it's a problem, Bill."
He swallowed, discomfort clear and he nodded, "i' won' be 'en."
Had she come close to him? Pulled away? He had to get out of there. ‘Move on Bill, keep the talk going.’
He smiled again and looked at her, "When will we do i' 'en?"
She straightened her back up, becoming very still and somber looking, even through her soft smile, "Friday evening after Alder Cassio arrives."
He stood, smiling still, "le' me go b'fore I make a bigger arse ou' ah meself, I'll be 'ere."
She nodded slowly, craning her neck to look up at him as he stood, "I'll see you Friday, then." Curled into a slight ball on the couch, and now several feet under his gaze, she looked very small.
He smiled, nodded and showed himself out.
As he went out to the Landrover he cursed himself. He was a fool and child and he knew it.
The dent in the heavy vehicle’s side was not a major concern, it would be fixed in the morning. The door frame had bent, it would need to be replaced. His fist healed fast enough.