For Someone's Lake

We passed between the columns into the sanctuary, but the main hall where the artworks were kept stood firmly locked. Herman and I walked slowly along the cloister that ringed its outer edge.

“Tell me a little more about it.”
“About what.”
“The wager.”

I’d grown suddenly curious why Herman had ever made a wager with His Majesty the Emperor in the first place.

“Nothing much. It started as the sort of squabble over pride that everyone gets into at that age.”

Herman told me how the whole thing had come about.

“His Majesty had spent the whole day before boasting that he’d set a new all-time scoring record in a polo match against the Imperial Guard — so just as he was winding down, I offered a single remark.”
“And what was that?”
“That nowhere in all the world does there exist an emperor who could lose a match to his own guard.”

I laughed, a little taken aback by how insolent his answer sounded.

“That’s exactly the sort of thing to wound His Majesty’s pride. No — Herman, you pricked His Majesty’s pride first, and quite deliberately.”
“I’ve simply never been any good at saying things I don’t mean. And objectively speaking, it happened to be the plain truth. What country’s royal guard could ever go all out in a match against their own sovereign.”

Herman shrugged, unabashed, as though he couldn’t see the slightest fault in himself.

“That’s no fair contest. That’s what they call a rigged bit of pandering.”

Somehow I felt I could understand a little how the Emperor must have felt, rising to the bait.

“So what happened then?”
“His Majesty was the one to challenge me first. A one-on-one polo match — first to score, single deciding bout.”
“And the result?”
“Five to nil. A clean sweep for me.”

Herman said it with a proud, boyish smile, as if he were reliving that day’s match. He went on to describe the maneuvers he’d used to outplay His Majesty, how swiftly he’d torn across the field to sink the ball. But when he reached the part where his horse suddenly dropped low mid-match and nearly threw him, I felt my face twist into something odd.

“That’s far too dangerous.”

What stuck with me wasn’t how he’d won, but how much danger he’d been in.

“Think how many people have been left crippled by a fall from a horse. How could you throw yourself into it body and soul over a mere wager—”

Herman turned his head abruptly and looked at me. When I gazed up at him, puzzled, he smiled sheepishly, as though he’d never expected such a reaction from me.

“Don’t men all tend to be that way? Even betting on who can eat bread faster, they go at it as if their lives were on the line.”
“Even so. How on earth can nearly falling off a horse be something to boast about?”
“You — surely you aren’t worried about me?”
“What?”

Startled by the sudden question, I looked hastily away and fixed my eyes on some distant point. Beside me, he let out a soft laugh and brought up yet another old story.

“It’s been a good while since I’ve had a scolding like that. My mother, too, when she was alive, was quite worn out by my stories.”

Then, out of nowhere, he said the most unexpected thing.

“Times like this, it really comes home to me.”
“What does.”
“That you’re my wife.”

For a moment his words left me with nothing to say. The worry and dread that had crowded my head only moments before seemed to crumble at that single remark, like a castle of sand. All at once I thought I might have overstepped. For someone who wasn’t even truly his wife to fret this hard over an accident that hadn’t even happened was surely going too far.

“S-so, is this the place you were granted as your prize for that polo wager?”

I steered the conversation elsewhere in a hurry. Herman regarded me a moment through half-lidded eyes, then calmly took up the thread again.

“It wasn’t granted to me, no.”
“Then…”
“I was given leave to come in here.”

Before we knew it, we’d circled the cloister once and drifted naturally toward the lake. My skirts were heavy, and to keep them from catching on the way down, Herman took my hand gently and swept the leaves from the steps with his foot.

“The late Empress loved this place so dearly that she left word, upon her death, for it to be declared forbidden ground — that no one at all should be allowed to enter.”
“The late Empress did?”

I tilted my head and echoed the question. By all accounts the late Empress had been a benevolent, gracious woman, respected by a great many, one who prized giving and sharing above all else.

“Was it because she feared the sanctuary’s artworks might be stolen?”
“The will she left behind likely doesn’t mean only that.”

Herman drew a white cloth from the basket and shook it open with a snap, then spread it beneath the shade of a tree.

“She left word that if, one day, an empress should appear who could truly love this place, it was to be gladly given to her as a gift. It seems to have weighed on her greatly, that she had to close her eyes without ever seeing her son’s wedding.”
“Ah — so that’s what she meant.”

I gave a small nod. The tales Herman told me were, for the most part, things I’d never known, so they came to me fresh and fascinating every time.

“But did His Majesty really grant Herman leave to enter so meaningful a place as readily as all that?”
“From the very start it was a wager where he’d agreed to grant anything at all — anything but the throne itself.”

As I smoothed the white cloth and sat, Herman answered easily and settled himself beside me.

“Even so…”

Even though the leave had been fairly won through the wager, I had no wish to defy the late Empress’s will. With a heavy heart, I was turning it over, wondering whether I ought to excuse myself from this place, when all at once Herman leaned his upper body toward me.

I swallowed and drew back a little from him.

“There’s a certain story that quietly makes the rounds.”
“…What story?”
“The truth is, they say the late Empress hid an enormous treasure here.”

Then Herman’s mouth curved into a grin.

“I want to find it.”

A bird called out somewhere. Gentle sunlight slanted down, and now and then a cool breeze stirred. We ate a simple meal of bread and wine; for all that we’d bought them on a whim, at shops stumbled into at random, they suited my palate well enough.

“That bread — is it good?”

My eyes kept drifting to Herman as he ate the rye bread. Unlike the bread I was used to, it was hard and dark, and it stirred my curiosity.

“It’s not bad, once you get used to it.”

Herman held the rye bread up to my lips, spread with cheese and topped with ham.

“Care to try a bite?”

Ordinarily I’d never have touched it. Not only was it an unfamiliar sort of thing, it was something another person had been eating.

“Well then — just a little.”

But somehow, just now, it seemed it would be all right. I took a small bite from the side Herman hadn’t put his mouth to.

“…”

Before long I drew my mouth back from the bread.

“It’s no good. It’s far too hard.”

Watching me speak with a hand over my mouth, Herman let out a small laugh, his eyes holding the look of a man watching a daughter do something absurd.

“Rye bread’s naturally on the hard side. Still, this is one of the softer ones — it seems it just doesn’t suit your palate.”

Herman gave a shrug and, without a second thought, bit into the very bread that had gone into my mouth and come out again.

“That’s…”
“What.”
“It’s nothing.”

My cheeks, already hot from the wine, went a deeper red still. This man stood at the very summit of Balter’s nobility, to all intents and purposes; how could he be so utterly without reserve?

“Since when did you come to enjoy rye bread? It’s hardly a food we come across often.”

Flustered, I hurried to change the subject.

“True enough. In fact, I couldn’t stomach rye bread at first either.”

Herman gave a light nod of agreement.

“But in the war there was nothing but bread even harder than this. And on the uninhabited island, not even that much.”
“…I suppose there wouldn’t have been.”

When I grew subdued, he set about lifting the mood again. Some of the breads had been so impossible to chew, he said, that they’d had to soak them in seawater just to choke them down, or something of the sort. It was the kind of tale one couldn’t simply laugh at.

“Perhaps because I ate that way for so long, it comes to mind now and again.”
“The war seems to have changed you a great deal, Herman.”
“You could say that.”

Herman stretched both arms back to prop himself up and gazed out at the lake.

“Once I’d been out on a storm-tossed sea, I came to understand — that everything I’d done before was nothing but idle boating on a calm lake.”

I followed his gaze out over the lake. It struck me, suddenly, that in that peaceful, tranquil view he might be seeing something altogether different from what I saw. The waves that had reared up high, the comrades he’d had to lose, or perhaps just the plain human fear he’d felt in the thick of it all.

“And yet, paradoxically, I also came to know just how precious a peaceful lake is.”

He turned his head abruptly toward me and smiled, bright and clear.

“To protect the ones I hold dear. To guard their lake.”

He tilted his head gently and whispered.

“That, too, was why the sea existed.”