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To the Father…

posted by Blake at 06:12 PM, October 14, 2003 | Filed under : Fiction | Comments and Followups

Shortly after Eric’s funeral.

The mug shattered against the stone wall of the room, fragments ricocheted against the book shelves next to the window. Jerod could see a few fragments flying out of the window, descending into the bright morning sunshine. He knew, if he looked just the right way through the window, it would appear that the harbour was just below, spread out neatly for his inspection, though he knew that it was indeed far below at the foot of Kolvir.

A second surge of anger rose within him and he seized the next available object. A moment later, he put it down, as the anger faded while he looked at the icon of his mother, painted by Zephor. He looked at it for a moment, remembered how that erratic, insane man had worked so hard to paint her image, when barely anyone else could get a word out of him that was not babble or confused. But it had been worth it and the image was as life-like as if he had just seen her.

“That’s a waste of a good mug.” a voice said from the door and Jerod turned, noting Vialle in the doorway. He nodded once, the action instinctive despite her sightlessness, so long accustomed he was to her ways of seeing without seeing.

“They’ve got lots more.” he said. “I’ll clean it up, after I figure out if there’s anything else I can break.”

“It was that bad?” she asked, entering the room soundlessly, finding the furniture without really touching it.

He nodded. “Yeah…the bastard even tried to say a few words in memoriam. I wanted to pull my sword out and kill him right there. I knew I wouldn’t have much of a chance though, even if Gerard hadn’t been standing right beside me. Dad taught me pretty good, but I’m not that good…not yet.”

“Is there any reason why you think you might need to be that good?” Vialle asked, as she found a comfortable chair, one of Eric’s favourites and settled down, curling her legs underneath her.

“Other than revenge?” Jerod asked. “No…though the war counts as a good reason I suppose.” and he shook his head. “Come to see if I’m planning any vengeance trips? If that’s the case, I can tell you that our esteemed new ruler is quite safe.”

“I wouldn’t think that would be your style.” Vialle replied. “You were never that way in Rebma, even when the others tried to bully you, or when you had your run-ins at court. You might enjoy your victory over someone rather publicly, but vengeance was never your forte.”

“Not even now?” Jerod asked. “My father’s buried in the ground and the usurper sits on the throne.”

“He doesn’t sit there yet.” Vialle said. “He hasn’t taken it. And the others might have something to say about it. Even with his reds, he’s not secure. Random says that he’s not sure now about it.”

“A bit late to be having second thoughts.” Jerod replied.

“Maybe.” Vialle said. “In any case, I was wondering about you. Are you holding up okay?”

“I suppose…as well as can be expected.” he said, turned back to the desk. “I’m going over Dad’s effects and stuff. Some of them have been riffled through already. Corwin looking for things, though what I’m not sure. The case for the Jewel is gone so I’m figuring that’s who was in here. He’d want the original case to keep it in.”

“And your mother? You saw her a few days ago I understand.”

He nodded. “I spent a couple of days with her. She wouldn’t attend the funeral. She refused to be seen in the presence of Corwin. Moire was debating on sending a representative…I got the double duty for that otherwise I’d have gone privately. I talked to mother about that…fought with her actually. She’s going to go with me in a few days, when things have died down. She’ll say her good byes then. Cambina will be there too.”

“She loved him a lot, didn’t she?”

Another nod. “I talked briefly with Moire before seeing her. She said that mother’s servants couldn’t get into her quarters for nearly a day. She refused to let them in. She was looking a bit better when I was there, but she still cried sometimes.” and he picked up the icon again to look at it, putting it down again as the emotions threaten to overwhelm him.

“It will take awhile for that to heal.” Vialle said. “If you’d like, I’ll make sure to visit her, to see how she’s doing.”

“Thanks. I’d like that.” he said quietly, looked at her. “I know I’m going to be busy pretty soon. Even if he is King, he still won’t know everything about running stuff, and I’ve still got things to do.”

“You can put your duty aside for a little bit, you know.” she offered. “It will still be there when you get back.”

“I’m sure it will be. I’m just not sure if I’d be there.” Jerod said, and he laughed bitterly. “Dad taught me well in that regard. A good son, he said I was. Always knew what was best, for me, for the family, and for Amber. He always told me that, and that he was proud of me.” He stared off into space for a moment before turning to look at Vialle.

“Do you want to know how good a son I was?” he asked.

“It sounds like you think you are not.” Vialle replied.

“Oh, but I am.” Jerod said. “I’m my father’s son. And like him, I do what is best for the realm, for my own future, my advancement and everything else. When it suits me to, I’ll play the politics, run the court and work to advance myself. And when it comes time to defend Amber, I do just that. I stand my ground, command the troops, fight the invader. I do whatever it takes, just like Dad did.”

He stood up, paced to the window and looked outside at the harbour, watched as the work teams cleaned the debris from the battlefield. “I was assigned to the northern sector, away from the heaviest fighting, but still a critical area. We had to be careful in case the flyers hit us supported by their infantry. They could have swung in and taken our flank. Dad knew the heaviest fighting though would be in the central position where he would be. He put me on the flank and gave me two regiments. I knew we needed at least three to hold it securely without risk, but I also knew from what he had told me, he couldn’t afford three. I remember looking at him when he gave me the orders.” and he turned to look at Vialle for a moment.

“He didn’t explain the orders. He knew I could read the map. I had the same figures he did. It was simple numbers. And two regiments would hold that flank if it was hit, but would take heavy losses. Three regiments could hold without heavy casualties, but the centre would be weakened. If the northern route fell, he could regroup and counterattack. If the centre fell, Amber would fall.”

“So I took my orders and I went to get my men. I knew that it was dangerous. He did too. He knew that if the flank fell, there was no way we could evacuate. We’d all be dead. And even knowing that, he still sent me in there. He did it because it was necessary. He put his own son into danger, possibly to die, to save the realm. And I agreed with his decision when he made it.”

Vialle listened, heard the words and the feelings. “But is that what makes you think you are a good son of his?”

He shookd his head as he moved slowly back to the chair. “No. What makes me a good son was that I did what was necessary to protect Amber.” he said.

“When the flyers hit, we took heavy casualties as predicted. But their infantry was slow and we were able to rebuild our lines in time when they hit us. It was heavy fighting but we held the line, even after they rushed it, three, four times. I pushed reserves into breaks in the line sparingly, a few men here and there, spending them like tokens. I could see the look on their faces when I was doing this. They knew what I was doing, but they still fought, like the demons they were facing.”

“Then I saw their main force hit the centre position, where Dad was positioned. I saw the assault, and the attack with the guns, I saw it all. And I saw my father’s position surrounded and cut off. The surrounding footmen tried to cut through to them but the demons were too strong. They didn’t have the men. The others…Gerard and them, they saw it. They fought their way through, but they couldn’t make it in time.”

“I could have though.” Jerod said. “I had the one regiment on the lower edge of the field. I could have detached them, sent them in to attack from the side. That would have raised the attack and helped my father’s group. But I didn’t. If I had, it might have threatened the entire flank. The enemy hit us again at that moment, and it was even bloodier. But I could have done it. I could have saved him. But I didn’t.”

She looked at Jerod, sitting quietly in his chair, the sound of the surf light in the background. “Why didn’t you?” she asked.

“Because I was a good son of Amber.” Jerod said bitterly. “If the flank had been taken, the field would have been threatened. We could have lost everything. But the centre line was still holding. Only my father’s unit was cut off. We could afford to lose fifty men…we couldn’t afford to lose the line. So I turned away…and I held the line.” and he turned away, looked out the window.

He was not sure how much time passed before he found her hand on his shoulder. “When will your mother be arriving?” she asked.

“In two days.” he said quietly.

“Then I will be there with you.” Vialle said.

He nodded, swallowed once. His hand moved shakily, as if hesitating, before it came down on hers. “Thanks. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.” he said, and paused before adding…”I know I will.”

She nodded once, squeezed his shoulder before she moved towards the door and closed it quietly after.

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