Alessandro & Paris
The day had been grey and lowering. One of those oh-so-typical mid-winter days where even the snow seems grey. When all the glitter and romance of snowfall has given away to weariness of cold and wet. One of those days where it doesn't snow but keeps one eyeing the sky in chilled expectation.
At a break in the Party's activities, Paris approached the young Islesman with a quiet, "I'd like to speak with you, Alessandro." He eyed the knight questioningly but accompanied her to where they could speak in some privacy under a small stand of evergreens.
"Alessandro, you have presented me with a puzzle for which I need to ask you a question. I think we have gotten to know each other pretty well in the last couple of weeks. I know I've tried to pay particular attention to you, your skills, your background, your service to -" she swallowed, "to Prince William. I -- wished to honour my prince by -- respecting those who served him, as he would respect them." She looked at the young man searchingly. "You know as well that our Quest takes us to the Major Arcana of the Tarot. You also know, I think, that at least some of the Minor Arcana exist as well? It exists in people -- like us. People who can make choices that will affect the world."
"Many who have helped us on this Quest have been Minor Arcana. I can tell you of some of our current companions, if you wish?" She paused for a moment. "You know from our conversations in the Four and Four room of the Tarn Library that we know each other's representation: Anton is Page of Wands, my brother is Two of Pentacles, Rhori is Nine of Wands, Pyotr is the Six of Cups, and I am the Knight of Swords." She swallowed again, blinking hard. "Prince William is - was - the King of Cups."
"I -- thought -- I knew you well enough to... well ... when I think about it, I can usually tell which card is represented by someone I know well enough. If they actually are a Minor Arcana. As you are. And -- although I should be able to tell which one you are, I cannot. So ... Alessandro, it seems to me that I do not know you as well as I ought. Yet I do: I know your fighting skills. I've tried to understand what your capabilities as a mage, a fire mage, are. I've come to admire the ease with which you work with other people and the straight-forwardness of your speaking. I believe that I understand the tragedy that made you an Arcana, that brought you to us, to me. All this. From what you have said and I have observed." Paris sighed, her eyes on his. Her voice was very quiet. "I -- do not wish to -- violate your privacy. But, there is something missing in my knowledge about you, something that I would normally know, something that stands between me and my understanding of your place in the Tarot. That understanding was something that Prince William and Duke Evan were trying to compile. This I know. So, please tell me simply this: did Prince William know the bit of knowledge about you that I am missing? Do you feel that it is important that I not know what it is?"
Alessandro listened. He was silent for a time after Paris finished. "Yes, Prince William did know more about me than I told him. If we never traveled to the Islands, you would probably never need to know but as we are...." He took a deep breath. "When a man says 'I have no son...', the son has no family, no friends. It is for this reason that I have no family and, should I be discovered for who I am, I would be killed by my family or imprisoned by their enemies. If I am discovered, it is better that you deny me."
Paris started to open her mouth to interrupt, but she let Alessandro continue, "I have a sense that you would not do so -- just as Prince William laughed when I said something similar to him." The interruption had turned into a smile - a smile that, for the first time in Alessandro's experience, actually touched the knight's eyes and glowed there amid unshed tears. She contented herself with shaking her head while continuing to smile. He went on, "I do not know how much of a risk I might be to the party. I know who knows me and it's been a few years, so very likely, they will not know me on sight. Also, we are going to the South and I was born in the North. On the other hand, there are spies everywhere and everyone makes it their business to know what is going on everywhere..."
Alessandro spent some time in silence again while Paris watched him patiently, attentively. There was sympathy in her manner paired to an atmosphere of maintained neutrality. Of waiting.
Alessandro said quietly, "My uncle, to have failed you in the end after all..."
Abruptly Paris turned away. Alessandro, were he looking, could see mostly her back, head tilted slightly up, body held stiffly, as though holding herself under tight control. Alessandro was a little too self absorbed to say anything, but Paris' action registered somewhere.... More silence. Some grey wind blowing by. After a few moments, the knight -- very slowly -- turned back around. She nodded silently when Alessandro's eyes met hers. He continued.
"I am aware that there are choices that change one's world. Some time ago I made one that I knew would; more recently one that I did not expect." His mouth became a grim line, then softened. "I don't know what I should tell and what I should not. His Highness just knew, so it never mattered, and it was good to have someone to understand."
"The man who disinherited me had recently become duke by what is sometimes called right of arms but more accurately termed force and treachery. My uncle, may he rest in Heaven, had ruled for many years and did not suspect his brother of conspiring for the throne. I was young and did not know what was happening as we moved into my Uncle's palace: I knew he had room, and loved him well as a good man and a great Duke. I thought that all was well until I overheard my father talking about killing people. Several of the Duke's favorites were on their knees before him and then were led off in chains. I saw their heads roll in the back courtyard -- the heads of gentlemen I would gladly have grown up to be -- of noble men who had fought in many wars and graced many a banquet with their wit and society. Horrified I went running back to see my ..." he stopped, stuck in his speech for a moment " ... to see my Uncle being sentenced. I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry, I was afraid, enraged, ashamed. I knew I could not live while my Uncle was murdered. My Uncle's room was close -- I ran to it and grabbed his sword, having none of my own upon me, and ran down to meet the guard as they marched my Uncle out. None of them expected this and two were dead before they realized what was happening: Vino, Asti, Santo and Amarone -- all dead by my hand, though I had played with them as a child. I stood in shock as my Uncle whisked me into a passage I had never seen before. Ah, my Uncle -- I would gladly have been his son, his courtier, his page -- in such adversity he remained a Duke, even though his state had been taken from him. He never hesitated for an instant: always knowing what the next thing to do was. We made our way by cart, by boat, by horse and on foot away and to Westmore. He taught me much, but I had too much to learn still when the orcs killed him. " He paused and swallowed. "Ah. After that, my Uncle said I should carry his sword -- that I would grow into it in time: it is the sword I carry to this day.
"I keep my story to myself because I do not wish people to know who I am, lest they talk about it and the talk reach some spy who will then come asking gentle, unimportant questions that will tell him just enough to know who I am and where I am. So, I ask you to tell no one of what happened. But I leave it to you to decide to tell people that I am sought by princes of my land to do me ill. It does seem like the right thing to do to me, given where we're going."
Paris stepped forward and put her hand on the other's shoulder. A gesture of compassion and comradeship. "Thank you for your trust. You were safe with my prince and you are safe with me. No one shall know." Her voice was soft and very serious. "Prince William -- arranged for you to -- in some sense -- come into my employ. Thus no one need know anything you don't want them to know save that you are in service with me. My word should be good enough to let that be sufficient." A line appeared between her brows. "However, you should consider. It may be I whom you all may want to deny. My badge," she gestured to the sword and scales pinned on her left breast, "proclaims to all the world what I am and, to many, who I am. I should not hide it. There are those both on the Isles and in Tara who, by this time, may feel that I have signed my own death warrant by wearing it while not acknowledging a new master. For my part, at this time, I will not acknowledge a new master while wearing it. You see the dilemma? Thus it is likely that I will endanger the party far more than you could." She smiled ruefully, studying his face. "Nonetheless, you have my word that I will do as much to protect you, Lord Alessandro, as I can do for any of the others who have partnered with me. None shall take you if I can prevent it. I do understand; 'not all orcs wear pig faces'."
Alessandro gave a nod and a soldier's smile. "I thank you. My arm is yours." He paused a moment. "Danger: I shall do my best to warn you if you are likely to be in danger because of your calling. Indeed there are some families it would not be wise to visit, but that has little to do with one's professed loyalty to any pretender." Alessandro smiled wryly at that. "No, I think you do the right thing -- and while the time may come when I am called to serve elsewhere, I am glad to serve with you now. Prince William was right in his judgement of you." Alessandro seemed to have a little trouble in the last part, save for the very last statement, which came with sense of release -- relief or something.
Paris smiled ruefully again. "Let us be just. To the best of my knowledge, the council has not yet chosen a king. Therefore there were and are but candidates -- those who aspire or whom others would promote -- to the throne. 'Pretender' is a harsh word." She paused for a moment. "I served Prince William. I am on the Quest that he endorsed. Until that is done, I serve the people of the Isles and Tara -- by continuing this quest. It is, after all, a Quest to save the world -- from either further breakage or from growing back together warped. If this is so, then it is right and just that I do not give up this Quest merely because -- my lord is -- no longer available to order me on. And I cannot give another the right to order me away from the Quest, away from what must be done to correct as much as possible the injustice once done by a member of my Order. When the Quest is complete... well, then we shall see to what I am called. For now -- it is agreed: we serve together." A shy smile touched her face as she glanced at Alessandro. "My prince was, I think, an excellent judge of men."
Paris suddenly recognized that Alessandro was the Three of Swords.
"Alessandro's Story" copyright 2000 C. Ebert & S.Knowles. The contents of this site are copyright 2004 Sheryl A. Knowles unless otherwise specified. All rights reserved.