The King's Peace

by Jo Walton

  “You must go to Caer Tanaga for the Feast of Peace,” I said, and bowed a little stiffly. “I think my lord Urdo will be sending out invitations by red-cloak as soon as he has the date arranged.”

  “Then does he ever come out here?” Lew looked curious. I expect he was wondering how much interference he’d have to deal with.

  “Sometimes, when it is necessary. He came to help with the defenses after we had been raided by Jarnsmen ten years ago.”

  “That is a long time now,” he said, stroking his long moustache. “Well, I was hoping you would do me the honor of dancing—” I wished I had not danced with Duncan because now it would be impossible for me to say I was too tired to dance. I felt sure he would trample on my feet. I hoped the food would be ready soon. Then Lew surprised me by continuing “—with my nephew.” I felt a great relief that I wouldn’t have to dodge his feet, whoever his nephew might be, but as he led me across the room my heart sank. He was making for the group containing Emer. He was heading straight for Emer’s lover, Fishface himself. When he saw his uncle leading me towards him he closed his eyes for a moment, then he had the nerve to grin. Emer looked a little pale. Morien looked cautiously pleased.

  “Sulien ap Gwien, this is my nephew—” Lew began.

  “We’ve met,” I said, before Lew could tell me his name. “And I always call him Fishface,” We all laughed, though Morien was frowning a little, and Emer’s laugh was brittle.

  “Where did you—” Lew started, but Fishface took hold of my hand and dragged me off into the dance. I waved an apology at Lew, who said something to Emer, who touched her injured arm. They both stood and watched us benignly. Morien, beside them, was now frowning deeply.

  “So where did we meet, Praefecto?” Fishface hissed at me as soon as we were far enough away not to be heard. “I’ve never been in Tir Tanagiri before, and he knows it.”

  “Oh, earlier today,” I said, quietly. “In the baths perhaps? In the stables? I meet so many people it’s easy to forget.”

  “I don’t suppose you’ve ever been to Oriel?” he asked, swinging me viciously.

  I shook my head. “Never been off the island. Better make it the stables, I was there for a while earlier.”

  “Why couldn’t you have just let him introduce me?” By the music he should have swung me again, instead he stepped closer, looking menacing.

  “Because I take curses seriously, even if you don’t,” I said.

  “I take that one quite sufficiently seriously to know it’ll be my death. I just don’t see how you’re going to avoid discovering my name for the rest of your life. In fact I’m quite surprised you didn’t rush off to discover it as soon as you could. I’m quite sure your eager young captain knew it all the time.” Now he swung me, out of time, almost tripping me.

  “Ap Trivan? Really?” I said, righting myself. Inability to dance was clearly a family failing. If I hadn’t seen Emer dance perfectly well, and Elenn, too, I would have thought it an Isarnagan failing. I wondered whether Emlin did know. We hadn’t had time to talk. I had no option but to keep Emer’s relationship with her husband’s nephew quiet. I would tell Urdo, of course.

  “I would imagine so. He seemed quite well up on Isarnagan gossip.” I could see Emer’s scarred face over his shoulder. Lew, beside her, was smiling and tapping his foot to the drumbeat. Emer was only looking sadly at us. Someone would notice if she kept that up.

  “Well, I’m not, and I don’t care to be. And unless you want your uncle to wonder even more, then I’d smile if I were you; he’s watching us, and you look as if you’re going to your own funeral.”

  He laughed unexpectedly and quite charmingly. “Why, then I shall act the way people are supposed to when they are dancing and compliment your drape and your beautiful amber brooch. Is it Isarnagan work?”

  It was the one that had come from the hoard. I shook my head. “It is old in my family,” I said.

  “I see. What a good thing Urdo has female war-leaders.”

  “Why?” I asked, cautiously.

  “Why, that trick of dashing you off into the dance to get away from the questions would never have worked with a man.”

  I laughed. “It has been known for men to dance together in the alae, but it is not a usual thing. It would never have worked with ap Thurrig either.”

  “No indeed, from what I have heard. Indeed my kin and I are lucky it was you we met on this adventure.”

  We backed and advanced, as we came together again he spoke quietly. “You do realize what my uncle’s plotting?” I shook my head. “He suggested to me that it would be a very good thing if I made your brother an offer for you. I suspect he might have suggested the same to your brother, for he was telling me all your faults most apologetically.” He laughed again, with a little bitterness. “Oh dear, your face could curdle milk. I am supposed to be a most eligible husband, and most people consider me quite sufficiently handsome.”

  “They must never have seen a mouth-old salmon,” I said.

  “Why, how your thoughts do run on fish,” he said, very sweetly. “Perhaps we ought to marry at that. No, don’t pull your hand away, we’re dancing, it will look terrible.” He squeezed my fingers so tightly that I would have had to strike him to get free. I had not in any case meant to jerk away. He continued talking very lightly. “I mean it would stop everyone trying to marry both of us off. And as you already know my terrible secret, and I know yours, we needn’t have anything to do with each other. You are far better than the last girl Black Darag suggested for me, who was noble and very wealthy but had a laugh like a crow. And even if you don’t like my face you must have a terrible time finding dancing partners your own height.”

  “What terrible secrets of mine has my brother been telling you?” I asked, as calmly as I could, trying to ignore the frivolity.

  “Now it’s I who should tell you to smile for my uncle,” he said, smiling himself as if I had made a joke. “Why only about your relationship with the High King, which is not quite news, even in distant Tir Isarnagiri.”

  I was surprised how angry it made me. I was quite used to the armigers joking about this supposed relationship, and I had given up doing more than groaning when it was mentioned. I supposed Morien must have picked it up from Glyn’s teasing when I was at Derwen a long time ago. But I was horrified to see that it had spread so far. “You listen to much too much gossip,” I said, through my teeth. “I do not know why it should please people to tell lies about me, but you are quite mistaken there.”

  He raised his eyebrows and looked surprised. “I somehow suspected you’d turn me down, alas,” he said, and grinned audaciously at me. “Though we’d not be so badly suited as all that. It would cement the alliance nicely, and I’ve always liked tall women who don’t want me. There are so many who do it gets tedious.”

  There weren’t any words rude enough in Tanagan, so I said some in Jarnish, including one or two I wasn’t quite sure of the meaning of which Alfwin had used the time Masarn’s Whitefoot stepped on his toe. I kept on smiling as best I could as I said them. His own smile never faltered, though behind us Garian was blinking a little.

  “Yes, yes,” he said at last quietly, as the music came near the end. “If it were a choice between me and a dead leprous female cod you would still indulge your preference for fish, and I can’t blame you in the slightest. Indeed I was just being whimsical and reflecting upon irony, and I doubt very much my mother would approve of you either. We will consider the match canceled, though not the alliance between our kindreds. And you may ask your ap Trivan my name, whereupon your opinion of me will sink even lower, if such a thing is possible.”

  He released my hand, bowed, and left me. I bowed back, automatically, then I blinked after him. I wouldn’t want him beside me in battle. For all his quickness one would never be able to count on him being where he was needed. As luck would have it I caught sight of Emlin’s cropped head straight away and went over to him.

  “Do you know who he is?�
� I asked, quietly.

  “Do you want to dance?” he asked.

  “No, I don’t, I don’t care if I never dance again, and you must be tired, too. Sit down over here with me and tell me quietly what you know about that fish-faced Isarnagan before I put my foot in it.” We went and sat in the window. I picked up the cup I had left there earlier. Daldaf, with a flagon in his hand, looked as if he might come up to us. I glared at him, and he retreated.

  “He’s Conal ap Amagien ap Ross, called Conal the Victor,” Emlin said, very quietly.

  I raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never heard of him. He’s Lew’s nephew then?”

  “Yes. His father Amagien the Poet is Lew’s brother. Conal’s mother is Black Darag’s mother’s sister.”

  He sounded like Veniva going on endlessly about dynastic marriages. I could never find it interesting unless I knew the people. “So he fought for Oriel against Connat in their last big war?” I asked. “Come on, Emlin, what are you leaving out here?”

  “He fought for Oriel, yes. He’s the person who started the war up again. He’s Conal the Victor; didn’t you hear that he killed Maga of Connat last year?”

  I sat quite still, far more shocked than I had thought I would be by whatever his secret was. He had killed her mother, and she—I looked over at Emer, who was talking to Lew and Morien looking quite composed—she was wearing a dark red overdress, wool, not linen, but she did not look too warm. Conal Fishface was dancing with Kerys. I could only see his back, but he was probably saying something outrageous because she was laughing. I looked back at Emer. Now I understood why they couldn’t be together. Not some long-ago bloodfeud, her own mother. I wondered suddenly if he had made her some reparation. Even if she had accepted it the rest of her family would not.

  “A good thing he was never there at all,” I said. “What have we done?”

  “I think we have done more for Urdo’s Peace than we would if we’d fought,” said Emlin, yawning and stretching.

  “I shall have to tell Urdo,” I said.

  “Of course,” said Emlin. “Will you go to him now at Caer Tanaga?”

  “No,” I said. I had decided already what my first step was to be. “I will go to Caer Gloran, where there might be news, and which is on the way north. If there are forces in Wenlad and in Demedia I should be heading that way. If there’s no message then I might go east and south to Caer Tanaga to find Urdo and my own ala. It’s not much longer to go that way than to go by Magor and the ferry across the Havren.”

  “Will you take this ala?” he asked.

  I looked at him, considering. “No. I don’t trust the Isarnagans quite that far. I’ll take a couple of pennons—no. I’ll take volunteers, a couple of pennons’ worth. You ask them, tonight, and before I sleep we must talk over who is going and pick out who will be the decurios and the sequifers. Also tell Nodol Boar-Beard to get supplies sorted out for that many, so we will be ready to leave in the morning.”

  “At dawn?” asked Emlin, looking weary.

  “No, by late morning. We’re all tired, and there’s no point in pushing people or horses past the best we can do.” Emlin raised his chin and looked pleased. What I said was right, but also I wanted to go at sunrise to Darien’s grave with Ulf’s weapons. “You have to stay here. But I think I must put Morien in charge of the ala. There isn’t time for what Urdo wanted: I can’t take him back with me.”

  “You’re absolutely right,” Emlin said, decisively. “Have you told him?”

  “No,” I hesitated, fidgeting with the folds of my drape. I had been putting it off. “I wanted to check with you. You didn’t seem sure about him.”

  Emlin looked out of the window at the darkness. “He’s your brother.”

  “Oh speak plainly and never mind that, the important thing is the ala.”

  He looked back at me, reassured. “Well, Galba trained him well. But he’s not fought in war, and he’s never really been one of us. He’s always been at home and not living in barracks. He’s very quiet, and he is the Lord of Derwen, not an armiger the way you and Galba and ap Mardol are. Then again, he’s touchy because of that, and if anyone else was in charge of the ala down here he would be a decurio under them, and that would be very uncomfortable for everyone. I certainly wouldn’t want to do that, and I don’t want to be a praefecto anyway. And unless you stay here there’s nobody else.”

  “I really don’t have much choice,” I said, and stood up, sighing. “You get on and find out about volunteers for me. I’ll ask him.” A dance was just finishing, and Veniva raised her hand to signal dinner. “No, wait and do that after you’ve eaten,” I said. “We can discuss the volunteers after breakfast tomorrow”

  People began to divide themselves among the alcoves, and the servants brought in plates of food. Daldaf came up and showed me where I should sit, with Veniva, Morien, Kerys, Lew, and Emer. Conal Fishface was not there, fortunately, and I realized that of course he could not eat with Emer. I could not say anything to Morien with the others there. I ate and listened to the others talking and wished I was asleep. Emer and Veniva steered the conversation clear of the shoals, and Lew spoke to Morien much as a steady old sequifer speaks to a young decurio.

  As soon as we had finished eating Morien strode out into the center of the room and took the big harp from where the musicians had left it. I had not heard him play since he was a child. Darien and Aurien and I had learned the least amount of music Veniva had considered acceptable and then stopped; none of us had ever come near the big harp. Morien had more of an ear for it. I remembered my mother telling Darien that it was a great thing for a lord to be good enough to give the first tune after a feast, but Darien had laughed and run off with me. Morien, it seemed, was that good.

  Then he started to play, and I saw that he was as good as any musicians I had heard at Caer Tanaga. He played an old Tanagan lullaby I remembered my nurse playing, about a girl so beautiful that flowers grew where she walked. I saw Emer smiling to hear it, and wondered if she, too, was thinking about her sister. Then Kerys got up and took the little drum and they sang and played together, ap Erbin’s brother’s song about the red-cloaks. When they had finished, they smiled at each other, for the rhythm is difficult to hold. Emer came forward and murmured to them, and Morien played while she sang an Isarnagan song about a warrior who spent seven days hunting the giant boar and went home to find seven hundred years had passed and all his kin perished.

  Afterwards I drummed my feet as loudly as everyone else, and congratulated Morien heartily. Having seen him do something well made it much easier for me to find words to ask him to command the ala, and we did not flare up at each other again as I had thought we might. I went to bed and slept soundly until Daldaf woke me, as I had asked, at first light.

  28

  On they rushed, that great tide of barbarians, coming ahead as if the border and the legion before them meant nothing, crying aloud in their own wild tongue as they ran towards the waiting spearpoints. Afterwards I asked one of the prisoners what the words meant, and he told me that as near as he could put it in Vincan it meant “Death, Death, drink bright blood, whoever shall fall shall be counted fortunate!” I asked him why they had not stayed on their own side of the border, and he said they wanted to come in to the Empire. I asked him if he hadn’t known he must inevitably lose against the might of the legion, but he just looked at me with his bright eyes and said that victory always lay in the hand of Fortune. Yet this was an intelligent man who spoke Vincan, a noble among his people. He afterwards served me well and rose to the rank of decurion.

  —Marcia Antonilla, The Third Malmish War

  The rain had stopped for the time being. The grass was heavy with cold wet beads of dew, soaking into my boots as I walked away from the town. A chill wind was blowing out of the west and I wrapped my cloak closer. Dusk lingered under the trees. The boles of the birches glimmered pale. The waking birds were calling out to each other and took little notice of me as I walked below them. Once the mattock
I had borrowed chinked against the swords in my bag, and there was silence for a moment before the birds began chirping again louder than ever. I expected to have some trouble finding the place, but my feet knew the way. Before long I was surprised to find myself on a new path through the trees. I wondered who came this way often enough to make a track.

  When I came to the place where I had burned my brother I saw a neat little grave maker. There was a blackened place nearby where someone had been burning offerings. I bent to look. The stone was local goldenstone and well shaped, but the letters were not very even. “Darien, son of Gwien, of Derwen,” it read. “I lived dear to my family. I gave up my life when I was sixteen years old in defense of my home. Here lie my ashes, part of the Earth and all that is holy. I beg you who pass this place to bear in mind my name and think kindly of me.”

  I bit my lip. In defense of his home, yes, and in defense of me most particularly. I wondered why Veniva, whose letters regularly informed me as to the precise quantities of linen sold that month and how the oil extracted from the flaxseed helped to preserve wood, had never mentioned raising this stone. Reading it I could picture her disputing with Gwien what words would be best to set on it. I felt tears burning in my eyes, but they did not fall. I took out Ulf’s swords, wrapped in cloth. I remembered Darien every day, my brother, my best friend. There was always something to make me think of him as he had been. Here I could only remember how he looked when I put him on the pyre, without even his armor, which I had been wearing. His sword still hung at my side. It had seen me through countless battles. I wanted to say something to him, but he was not there. He had gone on.

  I raised up my arms to the gods, and called their names. I wished I knew a hymn or a proper form of words to use. Everyone learns the Hymn of Returning, for death is everywhere and nobody knows when it will fall to their turn to send back someone whose name they know. I now regretted that I had never learned any of the other hymns of the Lord of Death. When I was young I had learned what my mother considered essential, and then I had gone on to learn more hymns of healing as I had found people to teach them to me. I had always meant to learn more hymns and praise songs both, but since I had left home there had been so little time for learning things outside my craft. In the alae I often thought myself well taught in such things, for many there had grown up with little chance to learn much about the gods. It was among them, of course, that the priests of the White God made so many of their converts. Now I stood with my arms open in a waiting silence and knew myself ignorant and untaught.