Chapter 11
... And frying pans without fires are often far between ...
We untangled ourselves and rose. I sat down again immediately, on the bottommost stair. I worked the metal hand loose from my shoulder-no blood there, but a promise of bruises to come-then cast it and its arm to the ground. The light of early morning did not detract from its exquisite and menacing appearance.
Ganelon and Random stood beside me.
"You all right, Corwin?"
"Yes. Just let me catch my breath."
"I brought food," Random said. "We could have breakfast right here."
"Good idea."
As Random began unpacking provisions, Ganelon nudged the arm with the toe of his boot.
"What the hell," he asked, "is that?"
I shook my head.
"I lopped it off the ghost of Benedict," I told him. "For reasons I do not understand, it was able to reach me."
He stooped and picked it up, studied it.
"A lot lighter than I thought it would be," he observed. He raked the air with it. "You could do quite a job on someone, with a hand like that."
"I know."
He worked the fingers.
"Maybe the real Benedict could use it."
"Maybe," I said. "My feelings are quite mixed when it comes to offering it to him, but possibly you're right..."
"How's the side?"
I prodded it gently.
"Not especially bad, everything considered. I'll be able to ride after breakfast, so long as we take it nice and easy."
"Good. Say, Corwin, while Random is getting things ready, I have a question that may be out of order, but it has been bothering me all along."
"Ask it."
"Well, let me put it this way: I am all for you, or I would not be here. I will fight for you to have your throne, no matter what. But every time talk of the succession occurs, someone gets angry and breaks it off or the subject gets changed. Like Random did, while you were up there. I suppose that it is not absolutely essential for me to know the basis of your claim to the throne, or that of any of the others, but I cannot help being curious as to the reasons for all the friction."
I sighed, then sat silent for a time.
"All right," I said after a while, and then I chuckled. "All right. If we cannot agree on these things ourselves, I would guess that they must seem pretty confused to an outsider. Benedict is the eldest. His mother was Cymnea. She bore Dad two other sons, also-Osric and Finndo. Then-how does one put thesethings?-Faiella bore Eric. After that. Dad found some defect in his marriage with Cymnea and had it dissolved-ab initio, as they would say in my old shadow-from the beginning. Neat trick, that. But he was the king."
"Didn't that make all of them illegitimate?"
"Well, it left their status less certain. Osric and Finndo were more than a little irritated, as I understand it, but they died shortly thereafter. Benedict was either less irritated or more politic about the entire affair. He never raised a fuss. Dad then married Faiella."
"And that made Eric legitimate?"
"It would have, if he had acknowledged Eric as his son. He treated him as if he were, but he never did anything formal in that regard. It involved the smoothing-over process with Cymnea's family, which had become a bit stronger around that time."
"Still, if he treated him as his own.. "
"Ah! But he later did acknowledge Llewella formally. She was born out of wedlock, but he decided to recognize her, poor girl. All of Eric's supporters hated her for its effect on his status. Anyway, Faiella was later to become my mother. I was born safely in wedlock, making me the first with a clean claim on the throne. Talk to one of the others and you may get a different line of reasoning, but those are the facts it will have to be based on. Somehow it does not seem quite as important as it once did, though, with Eric dead and Benedict not really interested... , But that is where I stand."
"I see-sort of," he said. "Just one more thing, then..."
"What?"
"Who is next? That is to say, if anything were to happen to you... ?"
I shook my head.
"It gets even mo…
