The King lifted a hand to shakily rub his face and eyes. “I gave those things,” he said, and the words were firm, but the strength was fading from his voice. “Once given, a man’s word is no longer his to call back. Am I right about this, FitzChivalry? Do you agree that once a man has given his word, he may not take it back?” The old test was in that question.
“As ever I have, my king, I agree with you. Once a man has given his word, he may not call it back. He must abide by what he has promised.”
“Good, then. That’s settled. It’s all settled.” He proffered the pin to me. I took it from him, relief so immense it was like vertigo. He leaned back into his pillows. I had another dizzying moment. I knew those pillows, this bed. I had lain there, and looked with the Fool down on the sack of Siltbay. I had burned my fingers in that fireplace ….
The King heaved a heavy sigh. There was exhaustion in it. In another moment he would be asleep.
“Forbid him to come and disturb you again, unless you summon him,” Regal commanded.
King Shrewd pried his eyes open one more time. “Fitz. Come here, boy.”
Like a dog, I came closer to him. I knelt by his bed. He lifted a thinned hand, patted me awkwardly. “You and I, boy. We have an understanding, don’t we?” A genuine question. I nodded. “Good lad. Good. I’ve kept my word. You see that you keep yours, now. But”-he glanced at Regal, and that pained me “it were better if you came to see me in the afternoons. I am stronger in the afternoons.” He was slipping away again.