by Luke, Monica
“It is their pledge to you,” he answered, “As I spoke when we camped out waiting for Lord Baric, you have many who hold you in high regard.”
“Loth,” Laad warned, “Dare you speak of treachery? Do not force my hand.”
“I would never,” he admitted, and teased, “Oh, Helm Laad, so humble you are.”
“Helm Laad?” Laad looked at him and raised his eyebrow remembering he called him it earlier also.
“It rolls off the tongue with more ease,” Loth said, and laughed.
“I swear Loth,” he said, while shaking his head, “How many names shall you give me?”
“Many until you have but one.”
“What such name?”
“King.”
Laad brought his horse to a halt.
“Do you want us beheaded?” he questioned, “Mind your tongue.”
“My words are only to you,” his reply, “I know how to mind my tongue well and have, yet we both know what will come. You have risen such that it could only be by fate and from this fate I have only one more name to give you and it is king.”
“Speak of it no more;” Laad warned him, “I command it.”
Loth nodded his obedience; then spurred his horse forward, and as they again rode, neither spoke until they reached gates of WorrlgenHall.
“One great has died when not in war,” Loth reminded, as they now trotted under the gate’s steel spikes.”
“The ritual.” Laad remembered; then scowled wishing it had been among the old ways turned from when the King Edre of WorrlgenHall abandoned pagan practices and embraced the church, “Is vile to me.”
“As to me,” Loth agreed, “But it has stayed well a rite within the men, so I gather has begun.”
Laad gave a disdainful nod.
“After I drink to Irek in the king’s hall,” Laad’s words before he rode off, “I will come and drink to Irek’s journey with the men.”
**
As Baric rode back into the walls of WorrlgenHall, Ogorec didn’t and got off his horse to pet it by the gate to wait for Ovfren; then when he rode by, he looked at him and nodded, which meant for him to break the line.
Obeying, Ovfren did and rode next to him, and after everyone had passed, Ogorec, wishing the night was over sighed, then got back on his horse and looked at Ovfren.
“This night in the men’s hall there is a ritual among the guilds,” he said warily, and warned him, “Enjoy it, but not such that you drink much and do something foolish.”
“What such ritual?” Ovfren asked curious, never had he heard of it.
“One great has died when not in war,” Ogorec revealed, as he looked at the top of his horse’s head, “You were to young during the first one and not a guild for the second. You are now old enough and a guild to be among them to try to lot for it.”
“And you,” he questioned, “Will you be among them?
“Ovfren,” Ogorec said concerned he was preventing him from enjoying himself, “It is not my will to keep you from others. My days of merriment I have had, and I will not keep you from yours and have you hate me for it when you are older.”
Ovfren listened nodding his head attentively; then when Ogorec stopped talking, only asked one question.
“Will you be among them?
“No,” Ogorec answered, as he thought of it, “I loathe it.”
When the gatekeeper began to urge Ogorec to pass through the gate so he could lower it, Ogorec motioned to Ovfren.
“Go,” he urged.
While the gate slowly lowered, Ovfren spurred his horse forward towards it, but debating whether he really wanted to go, he didn’t spur it hard.
Knowing he was hesitant, again Ogorec motioned with his head when Ovfren gave him one more glance urging him to pass through it, but this time when he did, Ovfren suddenly turned.
When he saw him turn, Ogorec pursed his lips not surprised, yet pleased, then signaled the gatekeeper to lower it.
“The gate has closed.” Ovfren smiled, “What shall we do?”
“Something comes to mind,” he answered with a roguish smile, spurring his horse to ride away from WorrlgenHall, “Before we sleep under the stars.”
Quickly, both rode to the river and made camp alongside it for the night; then as they lay on wool blankets looking at the stars, Ovfren turned to Ogorec and rested his head on his hand.
“Tell me,” he asked curious, “What ritual do the men practice?”
Ogorec put his hands behind his head.
“A great warrior has died, “he said, “And it is held as truth that to replace one great a draw is done with many guilds and those who win lay with the same bellar as the others watch. No one will know who the father is, but all trust from it one of them has seeded a new great warrior to replace the one gone to defend the kingdom.”
“This ritual is one I do not like,” he commented offended, “Never would such deeds be done in my land.”
When he spoke of his land, Ogorec became curious.
“Speak of it,” he eagerly said; now turning and resting his hand on his head as well, “I long to hear how you came to me.”
“A plague.” Ovfren remembered, “As we journeyed south many died from it along the way until only children remained living; then when those numbers were nearly none men on horses found us huddled nearly starving and dirty.
They feed us and split the boys from the girls. Some they sold. Some they put on farms in the villages they passed, but with me they brought me here where when of age I joined the line of men to serve the king.”
“And of me, how did you come to me? His curiosity peeked, as he looked at him.
“As the gruels lined to watch our lords’ ride pass us, you, always right behind Lord Baric looked bold and fierce,” Ovfren answered. Every detail still vivid in his memory, “The way you rode your horse made me swoon.”
Ogorec laughed. “Only women swoon over men riding by.”
“Laugh if you will and speak what you want.” Ovfren said, ignoring his laugh, “No other made my heart race, but you who rode by. No one filled my head at once, but you and no other have I loved, but you.”
“And all of this you held within?” Ogorec questioned, “I confess, I do not remember your face or of words from you until the night you spoke of Tohlor.”
“I care not to count the times I longed for you to see me,” more confession, “Yet you did not, and is why I set myself to rise from gruel to a guild to be closer.”
“Blind I was,” Ogorec said adoringly, and touched his smooth face, “To look pass one so striking.”
“And again I swoon,” Ovfren spoke teasingly smitten, as he looked back at him, “Over one who when called upon can be fierce and with me so tender.”
The laughing over, Ogorec faced turned serious.
“Fate brought you to me,” he said, “But I curse it for not bringing you to me sooner. Older I am.”
“You are not so much older. It is only because of battles that you believe you are,” Ovfren said; then spoke playfully to lighten their moment, “But one day I do fear I will have to carry you around in your old age.”
Ogorec sprang to his feet; then grabbed Ovfren playfully.
“Carry me will you,” he said, and picked him up.
Resisting every step of the way, Ovfren bucked and kicked to keep Ogorec from carrying him to the river, but Ogorec determined to show him he wasn’t an old man, stayed steady.
“Younger and faster you are,” he said, as he flung him into the river, “But never will you be stronger.”
As his body splashed, Ovfren quickly sank fully clothed; then angrily, he swam close to the river’s edge murmuring cursed words all the while.
“Curses!” he shouted at Ogorec, “The water was to cold for such!”
Ogorec laughed loudly, but Ovfren thought it far from funny.
“Sleep under the stars alone!” he shouted more, and walked away, “Dare I freeze to death!”
Angrily, Ovfren walked to his h
orse to leave, but Ogorec rushed behind him and grabbed him; but when he tried to break his hold, couldn’t.
“My body shall heat you throughout this night,” Ogorec said, when he finally loosened the tight vice he had around Ovfren’s arms, and kissed the back of his neck.
“Umm,” Ovfren said, as he warmed right away, forgetting his anger as he turned, “Make it such that I am heated to burning.”
Across the river, Belon who also had not passed the gates and followed them, sat on his horse and hid behind a tree jealously watching, but when they began to kiss, the sight of it to much to bear, quickly rode off troubled.
Unable to think of anything else, but in no mood to go to the men’s hall, he went to Moura, a servant he had pleasured himself with many times long ago before Ogorec. That night to soothe his heartache, he had his way with her until late into the night; then while she soundly slept, he quietly rose and left.
**
Casually leaning against the wall just outside the men’s hall, Loth periodically peeped inside at the men as they drank and ate, waiting for Laad.
Each cup of ale, mead, or wine making them more feisty and horny, he gathered the night would be a wild and robust one.
The hour now late, when still Laad hadn’t shown, he decided to find out why the delay, but no sooner than his back left the wall, he saw Laad coming towards him from the end of the hallway.
“You are well late,” he slightly chided, “The men are already well plied.”
“The king’s tongue flowed steady with words this night,” Laad’s reason for the delay.
Laad walked inside first, cheerfully greeting everyone as he did, followed by Loth, who casually made his way to the back before sitting at one of the end tables, then as he listened to Laad’s banter while waiting for something to drink, he laughed at some of his playful taunts and tales.
Once Laad got his drink, he held his cup high before turning in a circle to the room, which silenced all.
“One great has left us,” Laad said loudly, as he did, “And this night may one be sired to take his place.”
The men repeated his words in shouts; then bottomed their cups, just as Laad did in kind before he bid them goodnight, but when he turned to leave, Ladic, who was Borek’s cousin whispered, or at least thought he had, a remark to another guild.
“If he had his way,” he snidely said, “I would wager he wished the bellar was a man, if so maybe he would have tarried longer.”
“Mind your tongue,” the guild spoke out at once.
“You saw him leave us with haste,” he hatefully added. “And where are Belon and Ogorec our high commanders? I will tell you where they are; they are at secret places to rut each other this night with Laad hurrying away to be on top of them both.”
Wisely, the guild rose.
“You should guard your tongue,” he told him, and walked away leaving Ladic cursing him as well, but Loth, who was near him heard every word and boiled with anger.
“Wake me when it is my turn,” Ladic slurred, burped, and bottomed up his drink to make sure it was empty before his head went onto the table and him into an instant snore.
Although, Loth despised the ritual, he patiently endured and kept his eyes fixed on the Ladic while he slept and sloppily had his turn with the bellar; then when many began to leave for their chambers, Loth left too, but waited outside for him.
While he waited, when he noticed a stick on the ground an idea came to him, which put it into action by loosening the walkway stones with it, then when Ladic walked by, he tripped him.
Stumbling to his knees, his shoulder crashed into the wall, and after several murmured curses, he used the wall to brace himself to rise, until Loth got over him and put his knee into the small of his back preventing him from doing so.
“What cause is there?” Ladic questioned and groaned surprised, as his head jerked backwards from a hand full of his hair in Loth’s grip, “For you to put your knee in my back and take hold of me in such a way.”
“Only one,” Loth gritted. “…to end your life.”
“And the reason for it?” again he groaned and unsuccessfully tried to use the strength in his legs to rise only to have Loth force him back to his knees, “I have done nothing wrong.”
“You spoke coarse words in the men’s hall against one in high command,” Loth reminded him while his lips tightened and his jaws locked. The words spewed off his tongue through clamped teeth before pressing his knee harder into his back, “Do they come to mind?”
“They came from drink.” Again, he groaned.
“Do they come to mind?” Loth asked, as his knee pushed and his hand pulled simultaneously.
“They come to mind! They come to mind!” Ladic grunted.
“Good,” he said, before ramming his head into the jagged corner of the stoned wall hard; “Know what brought about your fate.”
Loth released his grip from Ladic’s hair, and as he body fell sideways, he looked at him in disgust before making sure no breath no matter how foul came from a mouth, then when he was sure he was dead, he took the stick and tossed it over the wall.
That morning, as a servant walked down the walkway, she saw a man lying blocking it. The morning dew dusting his body, at first believing he probably slept there to drunk to make to his chamber, she shook him to wake him, but when she got no response turned him and noticed his crushed skull.
Her blood curdling screams causing several to run to her. When they noticed Ladic still fully dressed, they checked his pouch believing someone murdered and robbed him.
After finding the coins still within his pouch, they ruled it out; then when they saw the loose stones, gathered he tripped and crushed his skull against the wall.
Later that morning, when Loth passed that same wall, his eyes briefly fell to the corner. Ladic’s dried blood still splattered on the stones, with strands of hair draping a jagged corner; he gritted his teeth contemptuously, and walked on.
Making his way to the outer courtyard high wall where he knew Laad would be, when Laad saw him coming, met him halfway.
“Have you heard word?” Laad’s first words, as they walked back up the stairs.
“…of what?”
“Our fellow guild Ladic stumbled drunk during the night and crushed his skull,” Laad answered once they made it to the top, and stood looking out, “…and is dead.”
Loth offered no reply. Instead, although unintentional, he made scowl and because of it, Laad knew, he knew what actually befell Ladic.
“How many times have we walked these walls together?” Laad asked, as he turned and looked at him.
“Many.”
“And from such I now know you well,” Laad told him, “What are you holding from me?”
“It is Ladic,” Loth answered, as looked at him; then looked out again, “Such is his foul tongue.”
“What of his tongue?”
“That I wish,” he spoke with an unintentional scowl that he forced away, “I could have cut it out of his mouth first and brought it to you.”
“Loth.” Laad’s expression went from curiosity to dread of what Loth was about to reveal, “No riddles be to the point.”
Loth hesitated and then blurted, “Ladic did not stumble. He died by my hand.”
Laad stilled, as he looked directly into Loth’s eyes who returned his gaze. “You know the punishment for killing a fellow guild. Dare you again force my hand?”
“Dare he or anyone speak of you in such a way? Loth’s raised voice averred his mindset, “And reason he will live long after his words.”
“Words are word.” Now Laad’s voice slightly rose, “Do you believe I am so weak that a man’s words will bring me to heel? I am stronger willed than that.”
Laad held his tongue, waiting for Laad next words of either condemnation or approval.
“What were his words that you killed him for them?” He got a question instead.
“That you favor men over women,” Loth answered, “And rush
ed away last night to be with one, either Belon or Ogorec, or both.”
Laad frowned, as the notion of it came to mind; then gathered it must be because of Ogorec.
“I am not the judge of man,” he said to Loth, “What is within him is within him. Ogorec is brave and strong, and men will follow him into battle headstrong to their death. I will not send one able to lead in such a way from WorrlgenHall.”
“Then so be it.” Loth resolved, “I cannot bring Ladic back to life, and I know a punishment of death is before me when this is made known.”
Saying nothing else, Loth stepped backwards towards the edge of the stoned wall, and as he turned his head, looked at the sharp rocks below him.
“Loth!” Laad said alarmed, as he watched him stepped backwards even more, “If you step once more, you will fall to your death!”
Still silent, Loth moved his foot, and when his body tilted backwards over the wall Laad reached out and grabbed him quickly.
“Curses!” he shouted, pulling him safely away from the wall’s edge, as he did.
Loth expressed a broad smile, as he looked at Laad, his assured friend.
“Never did I fear.” He trusted, as put his hand on his shoulder, “You would have let me fall.”
In disbelief of Loth’s foolish behavior at times, Laad shook his head knowing he was well beyond changing, and impressed with his loyalty, as well as resolve, knew he couldn’t and wouldn’t betray their friendship behind one as loathsome as Ladic.
“Kill another not by my command,” he did, however, warn him, “And I will throw off it.”
Loth nodded knowing Laad meant his warning; then just as he took his hand off Laad’s shoulder, turned when he noticed four of the king’s guard walking towards them quickly.
“I fear.” Loth looked at Laad concerned, then back at the guards, “Someone saw my deed and they come for me.”
Without even a thought of consequences, Laad protectively stepped forward and stood in front of Loth, as the guards got closer.
Unsure exactly what he’d say or do, he knew it would be something should they try to seize him, and both giving inquisitive stares at the guards, waited for one of them to speak first.
