The Knight: A Tale from the High Kingdom

by Pierre Pevel

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So you knew. And you let her do it.’

  The old blacksmith did not appreciate the reproach.

  ‘I told you I raised her to be independent. To make her decisions on her own. Good or bad.’

  ‘This one was bad, obviously.’

  Vahrd grew heated.

  ‘I bloody well know that!’ he exclaimed.

  Logan had to have heard that outburst. Lorn and Vahrd turned towards the door, but it remained closed.

  ‘All right,’ said Lorn after a moment. ‘What happened?’

  ‘They were all rounded up a few weeks ago. Naé along with the rest.’

  ‘And where is she right now?’

  ‘Here. She arrived yesterday with Prince Yrdel’s baggage. A little gift for Esteveris.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘I still have a few friends. Reliable friends.’

  Lorn rubbed his face and thought.

  ‘We can’t leave Naé in Esteveris’s hands,’ said Vahrd in an almost pleading tone.

  ‘I know,’ said Lorn as he continued to mull over the matter. ‘I know …’

  ‘So what are we going to do?’

  Lorn made up his mind.

  ‘You’ll do nothing at all,’ he said. ‘I’ll speak with Alan.’

  ‘I’m coming with you.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Lorn, please. Naé’s my daughter.’

  Lorn hesitated, but gave in.

  ‘All right. But keep your mouth shut, understood?’

  ‘Understood. Thank you, Lorn.’

  ‘You’ll thank me when we’ve got Naé out of this mess.’

  Lorn asked to see Alan. Since it was still early, the prince had just woken up. Nevertheless he received Lorn and Vahrd in his private apartment, as he was finishing his washing up.

  He was in an excellent mood.

  ‘What brings you here at such an early hour, Lorn? Good morning, Vahrd.’ Alan paused and gave the old blacksmith a circumspect glance. ‘I’m not certain I’ve ever seen you outside the Citadel …’

  Vahrd bowed.

  ‘We need your help,’ Lorn announced gravely.

  His expression worried the prince, whose smile faded.

  ‘One moment,’ he said.

  He went to close the door leading to his bedroom, Lorn just having time to catch a glimpse of a young blonde woman still asleep behind the gauzy veils of a four-poster bed, in a tangle of white sheets and plump pillows. Alan then invited Lorn and Vahrd to sit with him around a small low table, on which was placed a platter of fruit. Still in his shirtsleeves and unshaven, he said:

  ‘I’m listening. What’s this all about?’

  Lorn outlined the situation in a few words. Alan listened, attentive and concerned. Like Lorn, he had been close to Naé during the summers spent within the Citadel’s austere walls, until life had drawn them apart. No doubt he felt less affection for the young woman than Lorn did. But special bonds – which neither Lorn nor Vahrd knew about – still linked him to her.

  ‘She was with Dorsian?’ Alan asked Vahrd.

  The blacksmith nodded.

  ‘You know about this?’ Lorn exclaimed in surprise.

  ‘I didn’t know Naé had been arrested. But yes, I was aware of the operation that captured Dorsian and his accomplices, although I believed they were all being held in the gaol cells at Angborn or its fortress. Yrdel told me yesterday.’

  Upon hearing the word ‘accomplices’ Vahrd grew tense, but held his tongue.

  Lorn turned to him.

  ‘Naé followed Dorsian?’ And incredulous, he insisted: ‘Cael Dorsian?’

  ‘Yes. You know him?’

  The old blacksmith did not understand the look of astonishment and annoyance that he read upon Lorn’s face.

  Lorn and Alan exchanged a glance.

  ‘We know him, yes,’ said the prince.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Lorn, trying to dismiss the problem. But speaking to Vahrd again, he asked: ‘But don’t tell me he and Naé …’

  He did not finish.

  ‘What?’ asked Vahrd.

  He was slow to comprehend, before blurting out:

  ‘Naé and … No! Of course not!’ He hesitated. ‘Well … Yes, perhaps …’ And then he finally protested: ‘But I’m her father! How do you expect me to know that kind of thing?’

  Alan rose to his feet, putting an end to the meeting.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I’ll take care of this.’

  Imitated by Vahrd, Lorn also stood, and asked:

  ‘What do you intend to do?’

  ‘First of all, get dressed. Then I’ll speak to Esteveris.’

  ‘You can’t ask your brother to set her free?’

  ‘The official version is that Dorsian’s arrest was my brother’s doing. The truth is that all credit should go to Dalk, Esteveris’s henchman.’

  ‘I don’t know him,’ said Lorn.

  ‘Believe me, you will. The fact remains that it’s Esteveris who is actually holding Naé, if I understand correctly. Not Yrdel. Nor even the justice of the High Kingdom.’

  Vahrd had a question burning his lips but he dared not ask it. Lorn saw this and, with a nod, urged him to speak. So the old blacksmith cleared his throat and, embarrassed, said to the prince:

  ‘There’s one thing I don’t understand, my lord.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘If all the others are being guarded in the dungeon cells at Angborn or Saarsgard, why did Esteveris have my daughter brought here? Why make an exception for her?’

  Saarsgard was the massive fortress defending Angborn.

  ‘Because Esteveris knows who Naé is,’ explained Alan. ‘So he knows what she’s worth, which is both good news and bad …’

  ‘What she’s worth?’ interjected Lorn.

  ‘She’s the daughter of the royal blacksmith. Perhaps Esteveris sees her as a means of implicating the Citadel and the High King, albeit indirectly, in a scandal. Or else he plans to use her to put pressure on you, Vahrd. Or on you, Lorn. Or perhaps even on me. Because you can be sure that fat snake knows what Naé means to us …’

  Lorn and Vahrd returned to the quarters assigned to the Onyx Guards, where they found the others waiting. The old blacksmith having agreed, Lorn explained to his men what was going on. They listened gravely, occasionally exchanging astonished glances and casting rather admiring ones at Vahrd.

  ‘She has courage, your girl,’ commented Liam when Lorn had finished.

  ‘You can say that again!’ exclaimed Vahrd with a mixture of pride and anxiety.

  ‘She’s not afraid of anything and she’s as stubborn as a mule,’ added Lorn. ‘You know who she gets that from.’

  ‘So what are we going to do?’ asked Dwain.

  ‘Alan said to do nothing until we hear from him,’ Lorn replied. ‘And that’s exactly what we’re going to do.’

  ‘Nonetheless,’ said Yeras, ‘we could find out exactly where she’s being held, and tonight, one or two of us—’

  ‘No. No raids, no clever tricks. We wait.’

  So they waited and two hours passed before Alan sent someone to fetch Lorn. The two friends met again in a discreet spot on the Princes’ Ship, away from prying ears.

  ‘I don’t have a lot of time,’ said Alan. ‘I’m lunching with my brother and mother.’

  ‘Did you see Esteveris?’

  ‘I’m a prince of the High Kingdom,’ replied Alan in an amused tone which contained a hint of pride. ‘I see whomever I want.’

  Lorn did not dispute the point.

  ‘That’s true. So?’

  ‘So I spoke to Esteveris, but I did not obtain Naé’s freedom. Indeed, I did not ask for it.’

  ‘What?’ Lorn exclaimed angrily, while trying to keep his voice down. ‘Why not? You said—’

  ‘I said I would take care of this matter and that’s what I’m doing.’

  ‘Really? Because you seem to be going about it the wrong way.’ />
  ‘And you don’t seem to know what you’re talking about. It’s not a question of taking a bastion by assault. Or of intimidating some militia leader.’

  Surprised, Lorn stared at Alan.

  Was he referring to Andara? And if so, how much did he know?

  The tension between them having dropped a notch, Alan looked Lorn straight in the eye and calmly explained:

  ‘The first thing we must do is ensure this whole story is true and we’re not charging headlong into a trap. Believe me when I tell you that one can never be too careful with Esteveris. What I did not say in front of Vahrd, earlier, is that if Esteveris had Naé brought to the Floating Palace, it’s because we’re here. You and I. He must know we’d learn of Naé’s presence, and he’s playing some game where only he knows the rules and the stakes …’

  Lorn was forced to acknowledge that Alan was right.

  ‘I see,’ he said. ‘Forgive me.’

  ‘Do you trust me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Esteveris admits he’s holding Naé: that’s a start. The game has begun and we’ll need to play skilfully. It will take days, perhaps weeks, but I have a good chance of winning. All right?’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘I want to see Naé freed as much as you do. But don’t try anything. Let me handle it. Before anything else, I need to discover what Esteveris really wants.’

  Lorn nodded reluctantly.

  Knowing that Naé was close by and being unable to save her was unbearable. He felt helpless, caught in an incomprehensible scheme, and he hated that. He had been a patient man, but now, fed by his anger, he was filled with a constant sense of urgency. He needed to act, to be doing something to further his aims, and to let none stand in his way.

  5

  That evening, Alan gave precise orders and then with a worried air went to the dinner to which his brother had invited him, accompanied by a few gentlemen of his entourage. He did his best to keep up his end of the conversation during the meal, but suffered moments of silence and distraction that betrayed him. He was preoccupied, and it was all the more difficult to hide the fact in such a small gathering.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ his brother asked him quietly as another guest started a song.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘You seem worried. Distracted.’

  The two princes liked and respected one another but had never been close. They were separated by ten years and by their very different, almost opposing, personalities. Alan sometimes had the impression they were strangers or distant cousins who shared some memories and had the pleasure of meeting on occasion, but who didn’t miss one another when they were apart. They had never confided in one another, so Alan hesitated before saying:

  ‘Forgive me. It’s … It’s just that I have the feeling that one of my friends is about to commit an error.’

  ‘This friend, is it Lorn?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Perhaps you should be warier of him …’

  ‘Lorn would never do anything to harm me.’

  ‘Even without meaning to, some people bring misfortune to those around them. Lorn is like that.’

  Alan’s first reflex was to protest, to defend his friend. But he kept silent and thought over what Yrdel had just said. He knew that his brother was a shrewd judge of character. Like all those endowed with great intelligence and of a reserved nature leading them to keep silent, listen and observe, Yrdel possessed a lucidity that rarely missed its mark.

  As the song came to an end, a toast interrupted Alan’s train of thought. He lifted his glass and, with a forced smile, clinked it with the others before seeing Odric who was trying to catch his eye from across the room.

  ‘I’ll be back,’ said Alan to his brother.

  He stood up and hurried to join his faithful servant.

  ‘Is it Lorn?’ he asked.

  ‘No, my lord.’

  Preceding Odric who trotted to keep up, Alan walked along briskly without even glancing at the sentries who saluted him as he passed. The last two opened a pair of doors for him and he entered a room lit by a lantern.

  The captain commanding the guards assigned to the Princes’ Ship was waiting for him there.

  ‘He tried to sneak aboard the Azure Guard’s vessel,’ he said. ‘He gave them a hard time but they finally subdued him. And in accordance with your orders, they delivered him to us.’

  The captain stepped to one side.

  Between two guards, Vahrd was sitting upon a stool with his hands tied behind his back. His head tilted forward so that his face was invisible, he swayed slightly as if the vessel were gently rocking. He was dishevelled, and his short collar and a sleeve of his doublet were torn. A cut on his brow was still bleeding.

  Alan drew closer and wrinkled his nose: Vahrd stank of cheap wine.

  ‘I told you to do nothing.’

  ‘I wan’ my daugh’er,’ slurred the blacksmith without lifting his head.

  Alan felt anger rising with him.

  ‘You old fool …’

  And turning to the captain, he said:

  ‘Sling him in a cell. And find Lorn.’

  The captain nodded.

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  But the guards had barely started to hoist Vahrd from his stool when there was an explosion outside.

  Then another.

  And a third.

  Worried, Alan raced up on deck and, leaning upon the rail, saw rockets lighting up the sky.

  ‘Alarm rockets!’ he exclaimed.

  The captain, who had followed him, pointed to the barge floating on the far side of the Queen’s Ship.

  ‘They were fired from the Azure Guard’s vessel,’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ replied the prince sombrely. ‘And they’re illuminating us.’

  A rocket fell close by them and almost set fire to a tent on deck.

  Less than half an hour later, the captain of the Azure Guard requested an urgent audience with Prince Yrdel. By then, the entire Floating Palace was in an uproar. The alarm rockets had done their job so well they had almost started a panic. Some had believed they were under attack, before other rumours started to spread, including one about a bold escape under the very noses of the Queen’s Guard.

  Yrdel met Captain Sturich in the presence of Alan and the captain of his own guard. After the customary salutes, Sturich bowed and said:

  ‘My lords, this evening a man sneaked onto the Azure Guard’s vessel and helped a prisoner being held there to escape. The pair of them were surprised as they were fleeing and they had to jump overboard. Thanks to the rockets we fired, we saw them swimming away and we have reason to believe they sought refuge on your vessel, if they didn’t drown.’

  ‘Who is this prisoner?’ asked Yrdel.

  ‘Naéris Vahrd, my lord. An outlaw. An accomplice of the rebel Cael Dorsian.’

  ‘And the man who freed her, do we know who he is?’

  ‘He could not be recognised,’ replied Sturich, before realising that Yrdel had turned to look at his brother, as if the question were addressed to him instead.

  Alan withstood his brother’s gaze without blinking.

  It was not a gaze of reproach, but a calm, steady look, almost regretful, and which said: It didn’t take him long, did it?

  ‘I imagine you wish to search this vessel,’ said Yrdel.

  ‘Indeed, my lord. With your permission.’

  Dumbfounded, Alan straightened up.

  ‘You?’ he said furiously. ‘Search the Princes’ Ship? Absolutely not!’

  ‘My lord, I’m acting on the queen’s orders.’

  ‘Who do you think you are, Sturich?’

  As a worthy prince of the High Kingdom, Alan was making this a question of principle and honour. Permitting the Azure Guard to search the Princes’ Ship would be granting it higher authority, or else tolerating being suspected of harbouring fugitives. Each vessel was a fiefdom with its own laws, its own privileges, and its own justice. From Alan’s point of view, Sturic
h’s mere request – even coming from the captain of the Queen’s Guard – bordered on lese-majesty.

  ‘I have my orders,’ insisted the captain.

  Alan turned to his brother. Would Yrdel have the backbone to stand up to the queen and Esteveris?

  ‘My brother is right,’ said Yrdel. ‘There can be no question of anyone, other than ourselves, searching the Princes’ Ship.’

  Surprised, Alan smiled.

  ‘My lord—’ Sturich ventured again.

  But Yrdel bade him to be silent by raising a hand.

  ‘However,’ he added, ‘I will not oppose hunting down two fugitive criminals.’ He turned to the captain of his own guards. ‘Captain, I order you to conduct a thorough search of this vessel.’

  And addressing Sturich, he said:

  ‘I invite the Azure Guard to join its efforts to our own so that the fugitives may be apprehended as quickly as possible.’

  Sturich bowed.

  ‘Thank you, my lord.’

  ‘Don’t thank me, captain. I will not tolerate criminals taking refuge under my authority to escape royal justice.’

  ‘Yrdel!’ protested Alan. ‘You cannot allow—’

  ‘I’ve made my decision, Alan. See that my orders are carried out. I will be on the Queen’s Ship.’

  With those words, Yrdel rose and left the room.

  The search of the Princes’ Ship was cut short by a headbutt to Captain Sturich’s face, which caused him to topple backwards.

  ‘No one passes,’ said Dwain, blocking the door to the Onyx Guard’s quarters.

  He wasn’t alone. His fellow guards stood at his back, ready for a fight if necessary. Only Lorn and Vahrd were missing.

  Sturich struggled to rise, stunned and furious, bleeding from the nose.

  ‘But … But … How dare you?’ he spluttered as his men helped him to his feet.

  ‘You weren’t listening,’ Dwain explained evenly.

  ‘You’ll pay for this! I’ll … I’ll have you before a court martial.’

  ‘Or we can settle this between men, right now,’ proposed the red-headed colossus. ‘I still have a forehead. Do you still have a nose?’

  He took a step forward.

  Sturich retreated.

  ‘You cannot stand against an order from the queen and Prince Yrdel!’