by J. S. Crews
The small carriage tore through the maze of city streets so quickly that the two young men lost all notion of how to return to the docks. Although disorienting, the trip was productive, affording them a hasty yet advantageous tour. Having last looked upon Newport with the eyes of children, neither had been prepared for the riot of activity they observed. On every street stood vendors hawking their wares: fisherman from the docks district and from the small villages along the coast of the Eternal Sea; farmers from the small community of Hallsville to the south; and hunters from as far away as The Teeming Woods to the west, the same vast forest within which the boys had spent most of their young lives.
The thoroughfares were packed with myriad peoples. Some were obviously well-to-do, dressed in the finest silks and satins, while others were more reserved. More than a few were clothed in rags, their obvious poverty raw for all to see. These were mostly kingdom folk, but interspersed were others with the coppery, reddish-brown complexion marking them as Voronni tribesmen from the plains in the far west. In addition, there were even a handful sporting the dark, bronze-colored skin of peoples the boys had only ever read about, their homeland being across the seas in the hot island nations far to the southeast.
Would-be consumers flocked to the various shops and vendor’s booths like moths to a flame and were readily welcomed. In the meantime, beggars and thieves plotted their trade amongst the gathered host. This was just another day in Newport. Few would walk away empty-handed.
Nearly a quarter-hour passed before the driver directed the carriage uphill along a wide boulevard, and the boys saw looming before them a gatehouse and open portcullis with stone walls stretching away right and left.
“It must have been quite a while since these folks have seen any trouble,” remarked young Al in hushed tones, and Jonas simply nodded. Not that back home had seen any great sieges, but brigands were always an issue at the edges of civilization, some of which were astute at getting into places they were not wanted. A country castle or town bordered by wilderness was best guarded by at least two men-at-arms and a gate that was locked from dusk until dawn.
A brief conversation between their driver and the solitary guard resulted in him lazily waving them through the open portcullis. The carriage halted in the main courtyard of the castle as a man dressed in a fine silk tunic and tailored trousers waited for the two young men to climb out. Bowing at the waist, he said, “Greetings Prince Jonas of Glendon– ” and to the second, “Alastar of Woodmont.”
“Well met,” said the two, sharing a look of surprise that their coming was anticipated, despite having not flown their banner.
“Ah, yes. It seems our lord the Duke received a bird from your father, Lord Jonas, making him aware of your penchant for eschewing established protocols.”
Of course he did, the boy thought, looking decidedly guilty. He was a bit ashamed, in truth, but only because he’d failed to anticipate his sire’s retaliatory maneuver.
Meanwhile, the gentleman welcoming them went on as though he hadn’t noticed. “I am James, Assistant to the Steward of the Ducal Household. I am to escort you to His Grace without delay.”
The newcomers began to gather their things from the carriage, but were interrupted. “Leave them. I’ll have the servants bring them to your room.” The man they now knew as James started away, and after a quick glance at each other they hurried after him.
It was no easy task to keep from losing their guide in the jumble of activity inside the large castle complex, but they somehow managed to keep pace. The Great Hall was larger and more elaborate than that of Jonas’s father at Oakenhall Castle. The floor as well as the walls and pillars of the large gallery were constructed of what appeared to be heavy granite.
A veneer of oak covered the bare stone in some places, accenting the décor as well as providing warmth in the winter, Jonas imagined; and this seemed to help him feel more at home. Tapestries decorated the walls, some showing signs of age with once vivid colors now faded. These commemorated past victories and honors lavished upon the ruling House of Calleron. At first glimpse, the boys paused, feeling proud to count the heroes honored there as their ancestors.
It had been their forebears Arrador and Baregar, third- and fourth-born sons respectively of King Arramir IV—too far removed in birth from inheriting the throne—who had led the armies of the kingdom across the river known as the Greatwater more than a century prior to settle the Northern provinces. Arrador made his capital in Newport and Baregar established what would become the Duchy of Glendon. Each was granted the title of duke, an honor previously reserved for the former petty kings whose small kingdoms had been annexed over the centuries. The elder of the two, Arrador was held aloft by his father and also named Lord Paramount and Guardian of the Northern Realm, entrusting him and his heirs with the responsibility of serving as chief military and governmental officers of the newly-annexed lands. As the King’s Knight-Marshal for the region, the Duke of Newport was the only man, besides the King himself, who held authority over other dukes, themselves ranked as Knights-General.
Thus far, Newport and Glendon were the only two duchies to be carved out and mostly pacified. This would eventually change as there remained vast swaths of land to the far west and nearer the northern border that had not yet been settled. Regardless of future expansion, however, the Duke of Newport was the hereditary power over the entire Northern Realm, and the city of Newport was the capital seat of his rule. In practice, the north was a huge province and nearly a kingdom unto itself with only broad policy directives coming from the Royal Court in Callicane.
Beneath the wall-hangings were the trestle tables that would normally be arrayed throughout the hall during meals, disassembled to make room for the throng of petitioners and onlookers attending the Ducal Court proceedings. Finely appointed dress seemed much in evidence, the Great Hall being virtually awash in vivid colors and expensive fabrics. Jonas suddenly wondered if he should send a note of thanks to his noble kinswoman in Bornyn for her foresight in seeing them better garbed. If they had come among this body in furs and leathers, they would have looked like beggars.
James turned and said, “I must take my place. Remain here until called.” The newcomers nodded in understanding, and with a smile their escort was gone.
They stood aside for several moments as some minor point of court business was presented. The two man-boys did not view it as the inconvenience most in their place might have. Instead they put the minor delay to good use, studying the court and its lord.
The Duke was in his fifties, with a wiry frame and sandy-brown hair. He had ruled over the duchy of Newport for nearly two decades. He and his son were members of the Royal Line of the House of Calleron like Jonas himself, and he was the third ranking noble in the entire kingdom with Jonas’s own father being the fourth. His manner of dress was understated, only slightly more ostentatious than what they were accustomed to seeing their own fathers wear. His tunic was the deep red of the mulberries that old cook Hamlin had baked into pies all Jonas’s young life with gold trim at the wrists, neck, and hem. His leggings were a dark green, and he wore fine jewelry on both hands. Upon his brow sat the ducal coronet, the symbol of his office: a small silver circlet decorated with sculpted strawberry leaves.
Completely covering the right breast of his tunic was an embroidered badge: a black field upon which stood the likeness of a gray gull, its wings outstretched in flight, with a lighthouse in the background. In the upper right-hand corner hung a small golden crown. Seeing the crown made Jonas smile; it was a device shared by only two other banners in the kingdom—that of the King himself and of his own father in Glendon, signifying their royal heritage. He was immensely proud of that tiny crown.
The badge on his breast was the insignia worn by all those who served in Newport, themselves to be included. As members of another Great House in Alastar’s case and a different branch of the House of Calleron in Jonas’s, they would be permitted to wear their home pennants upon their u
pper left bicep, just below the shoulder. Beyond that and a tiny squire’s badge worn on the left breast, they would be dressed identically to the soldiers in the Duke’s service, the single but noteworthy exception being that the wealthier squires would wear garments of a finer cloth than the simple dyed wool issued to the soldiers.
Along the rear of the Great Hall, upon a raised dais, sat an ornate throne. It was empty, as was proper, for it was the seat of the King should he ever hold court in Newport. It had been a long time since any monarch had done so, if ever, but it was a tradition found in every ducal castle as a symbol of their status as direct royal vassals. Just below that throne, upon a slightly lower platform, sat Duke Valdimir with the Duchess Aleese on his left and his son and heir Prince Valdic on his right. By the Duke’s intense features, he could tell that he would no doubt prove a difficult master to please.
The Duchess wore a fine pale blue gown and matching silk headdress, held in place by a bejeweled headband. Long, beautiful brown hair could be spied peeping out from beneath the covering, and Jonas decided that she was still a handsome woman even in her late forties. She also wore a beautiful ruby necklace with matching rings and earrings.
Prince Valdic was nearly the twin of his father in manner and dress, but his tunic was instead a ruddy, dark gold and he wore brown leggings. He was also broader of chest than his father and it seemed perhaps slightly taller, but it was difficult to be sure with the Duke still seated. He was older than the boys, in his early twenties. Valdic must have sensed that he was under scrutiny because his eyes locked with Jonas’s and he gave a brief smile.
Jonas remembered the Duke and his family only slightly, having seen them last eight years prior. He and Alastar had visited Newport with their mothers and Al’s young sister for the treaty signing that followed the brief war between their own Kingdom of Galennor and the Island Empire of Golysia over ownership of the Barrier Islands. Golysia had seized the lightly-held chain, later being ousted by Kingdom forces loathe to allow a foreign power a foothold so close to their shores. The fighting had lasted nearly half a year, but then an armistice was declared and peace negotiations begun, so Duke Joran and Earl Monrowe had called for their families to join them. It had been a great adventure for the youngsters, and they had guested for more than a full turn of the silver moon, since Alastar’s mother the Countess Sheela was Duke Valdimir’s eldest child.
Arrayed against the wall to the rear of the dais were officers of the court. They could see James, standing dignified among his peers. Noticing them, he smiled congenially. Near the center of the group, a few places to James’s left, stood a striking young man in the livery of a knight. He was young, only a handful of years older than the boys themselves, yet he radiated the feeling that he had experienced much more, seen much more.
He was tall, standing two or three inches over six feet, and was almost melancholy in appearance, possessing hair as black as pitch and eyes of a similar shade. Even his complexion was dusky, those qualities mixing imposingly with his all-black garb. The only feature setting him apart from others in the Duke’s service was the insignia on his bicep; some sort of winged serpent on a field as red as blood. His eyes met Jonas’s only briefly, and Jonas smiled in greeting. To his dismay, the striking young Knight didn’t even acknowledge the gesture. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Jonas averted his eyes.
Before the dais and to the Duke’s left stood a barrel-chested, gray-bearded soldier in his forties. Upon his right shoulder, he wore the badge of a captain: three horizontal gold bars. Above the bars was a silver star and, at his hip, he wore a sword—the only one in the Hall. That, as much as the badge-of-rank and the star garnishing it, marked him as Duke Valdimir’s captain of guards, the senior captain in the city garrison and commander of the Duke’s own household detachment. No other would be allowed to enter the Hall thusly armed. He stood silently at attention, a scowl upon his face as if suspicious of everyone in attendance.
The ceremony being held before the court took only a brief time. A minor court official was receiving some promotion in rank as his family stood by, nearly in tears with pride. The whole affair was rather small in the scheme of things, but was handled as if it were the ratification of a new king. After all, for this man and his family, it was of comparable importance and would likely be remembered for years to come.
As the herald finished reading off the list of the man’s accomplishments, he was presented with the patent of his new office, an oversized scroll, embossed with decorative ribbons and seals. He stepped forward as the Duke rose, and both he and Prince Valdic offered their hands and shook with the man, congratulating him. With that done, both resumed their previous positions and the man and his family stepped back into the audience.
Just then, James stepped forward and whispered something into the herald’s ear. The old man nodded in response, and the nobleman stepped back into his place among the other courtiers.
Turning to the Duke, the herald banged the butt of his staff loudly on the stone floor and called out, “Your Grace, allow me to present His Highness Prince Jonas of Glendon: son of Duke Joran and the Duchess Catherine; sole heir to the Duchy of Glendon; Prince of the Royal Blood.” Jonas could feel his color rising and hoped none of those assembled noticed his discomfort at being the center of their attention. “And his companion, the Honorable Alastar Corvinus of Woodmont: son of Earl Monrowe Corvinus and the Countess Sheela; hereditary heir to the Earldom of Woodmont. They come this day, recommended to your favor by His Grace Duke Joran, to temporarily set aside their titles and courtesies and to place themselves under Your Grace’s wardship and into Your Grace’s service as squires of the ducal court.”
For a brief moment, the boys were unsure of what to do, but then they quickly made their way through the crowd to stand before the court. When Duke Valdimir spoke it was somewhat informal, but not without a hint of ceremony, as he said, "Welcome to our city and home. Duke Joran, my kinsman and old friend, has commended you both as worthy and asked that I should take you into my service and continue your education, but all men must serve freely. Are you willing?"
He looked to each of them in turn, both nodding in the affirmative. "I am pleased," he said. "Kneel."
This was a ceremony each of them had endured previously when being inducted as pages in the service of Jonas’s father. Both went to their knees as required, holding their palms together before their bowed heads. In unison, they spoke the words as rehearsed, "May gods and men hear my vow: I promise to be a faithful servant to you, Lord; to never cause you harm and ever to defend you and yours; to be your servant in all things; and to keep your counsel always in good faith and without deceit. To this oath do I pledge my life and honor."
Standing before each in turn, clasping his hands over theirs, the Duke responded, "I accept your service and promise, before gods and men, that you shall always have a place at my hearth and table; that I shall always treat you justly; and that I shall never ask of you any service that brings you dishonor. To this oath do I pledge my life and honor." The deed done, he kissed each of them on the cheek to seal the oaths as they rose.
Oaths such as these were considered sacred and treated with great reverence, because the concepts of fealty and homage were the basis for the entire system under which they all lived. Such promises carried with them the understanding that an oathbreaker’s life was forfeit should he betray the one to whom he was sworn. Thankfully, the proceedings then turned much lighter as the Duke and his family, who had quietly come forward as the ceremony neared its end, greeted their visitors more personally. Duke Valdimir took Jonas’s hand and then engulfed him in a hug, saying, “It’s wonderful to see you again, son.”
The same was repeated with the other boy, a barely noticeable increase in the strength of the hug evident as Al said, “It’s good to see you too, Grandfather.”
It went likewise with the other members of the Ducal Household, and soon court was adjourned. The audience quickly filed out of the Great Hall, a
s did most of the officers with only James, another gentleman, and that imposing young Knight whom had caught Jonas’s attention remaining.
As they stepped forward, Duke Valdimir spoke, “You’ve already met James. He is the youngest son of the Duke of Danford, my nephew-by-law through my wife, and one of my finer and most promising young advisers.” James smiled at the compliment, and the Duke continued. “He currently holds the office of court baron and serves as assistant to the steward from whom you two will be taking orders when I have nothing for you to do.”
He went on to introduce Baron Tarson, Knight-Commandant and Master-at-Arms in Newport, the individual responsible for all martial training and the overall command of the Duke’s garrison of soldiers. Commandant was a military rank, they knew, marked by a badge depicting crossed golden swords and existing only in garrisons of regimental strength, usually only duchies. Only dukes or the Crown typically maintained such large forces during peace-time. The fact that he held the court-rank of a baron meant that he was also counted among the nobility, though it was unclear if this was by virtue of birth or some special reward for service. He looked to be around thirty years of age with blonde hair that he kept closely cropped, and he carried himself with the dignity of a career military officer.
After him, they were presented to the captain of guards, a commoner named Heuric, who bowed politely and even allowed a brief smile to replace his scowl before begging their leave and moving briskly off. As he went, he motioned curtly toward a younger soldier wearing the two gold bars of a lieutenant upon his badge and with whom the captain seemed to share a certain resemblance. The Lieutenant was quick to respond to the unspoken order, haranguing two men-at-arms loitering and chatting near the entrance. Apparently, they hadn’t been shooing the retreating audience out of the Great Hall quickly enough for the Captain’s taste.
