Revenar who first suggested it.
“So, if you won’t accuse him before all, there is another way to punish him for his crime.”
“Yes,” said Sturgar. “I suppose there is. He deserves to die, and I will have my revenge. But, Gorden, I will not stab him in the back, although by Hogra it would not be any more than he deserves. I will have him look into my eyes when I do it, so that he knows why his life is cut off before his prime.”
Gorden was not enthusiastic. “He is said to be a dangerous swordsman, Sturgar. Is it wise to face him openly?”
But Sturgar was proud, and Gorden’s doubts made him angry. “I am better than he!” he shouted, grasping the other by the throat and shaking him like a doll. “He is an arrogant dog, thinking himself better than everyone, but he isn’t. He is nothing but a marauding pirate, a brigand and a cur.” He continued ranting in a similar vein until I put my hands over my ears to stop myself from hearing his profanities. And when at last he fell silent and I dared to peer around the stall they were both gone, resolved to murder, it seemed.
What was I to do? I did not know Sturgar, but from his irrational outburst I guessed one thing: that if I were found out I could expect no mercy from him, as I had received from Kieldrou. If I had been afraid at being discovered by the Count of Trall, it became nothing beside the terror I now felt at possibly being discovered by the Earl of March.
But he was planning to kill his enemy who was, as far as I was concerned, my friend, and I had to do something about it.
As soon as I was convinced that I was truly alone in the stables, I emerged from my hiding place and sneaked a look out into the yard. It was empty of all save the girl who tended the poultry, who was chasing a stray goose towards the gate, and Theostan, who was pumping the bellows at the smith’s forge, right on the other side of the square. I ran across to him and tugged at his arm.
“Stop it,” Theostan yelled. “I’ll get a whack if I stop now. I’m big, but a beating from Hroerek still hurts.”
Quickly I told him, in breathless excitement, what I had heard, that Sturgar intended to kill the Count of Trall. Of course, I said nothing about their feud, but the news of the plot was enough to make my friend stop his pumping on the bellows and stare at me.
“How do you know?” he asked, forgetting the threat that hung over him for letting the fire go.
“Because the Earl was in the stables, with the Earl of Revenar, talking about it,” I gasped. “We must warn the Count.”
Theostan snorted and turned back to the forge, picking up his bellows again. “So the nobles kill each other. Why should we care? Keep out of it, Derian, for your own sake.”
“But the Count ...” I began, but Theostan was having nothing to do with it.
“So? He was kind to us, and gave us a ride on his fine horses. So what? It doesn’t make you his friend, his confidant. He won’t even see you if you try to speak to him.”
I was about to argue, then thought better of it. Of course, Theostan did not know what I knew, nor did he know how my life had been spared by the Count and his foster brother, when they might easily have silenced me for ever. I owed Kieldrou my life and my loyalty, where Theostan did not.
So I turned away, my mind in turmoil. I had to warn the Count, but Theostan was right about one thing: I would never get near to Kieldrou to talk to him, and I could not buy my way into his presence with information, because to do so could expose me to Sturgar, who I guessed would have me killed out of hand when he learned what I had overheard.
Then Hogra, or maybe the Trallian goddess, smiled on me as I stood outside the forge, beating my hand on my thigh in frustration. Derian, the Count’s foster-brother, stepped out of the small kitchen door into the open, closing his mouth around a pastry. Thank Hogra!
I ran over to him, calling “my lord, my lord!” as I went. He turned and saw me and, as I skidded to a halt beside him he fixed me with a cold, hard stare before relaxing his face into a cheerful smile.
“Derian, lad,” he said. “Keeping your mouth closed, I hope. Have a piece of this pastry. It’s fabulous. It cost me a kiss from that pretty young girl, Tira, but it was worth it. Here, take a bite.”
I ignored the proffered pastry, although in normal circumstances I would have been overjoyed to be offered food outside the regular meal hours. Instead I clutched at his arm, without even thinking how wrong it was to lay hands on a lord in that way. Derian raised an eyebrow, but he did not tear his arm away, and I blurted out my news.
“I see,” he said, calmly, when I ran out of words. “You seem to make a habit of listening to conversations that are not for you to hear, lad. Still, this time I think I ought to commend you, rather than censure you. A warning, though: if Sturgar ever finds out that you know about ... well, you know what ... any threats that I might have made will seem like a picnic after what he will do to you.”
I could not believe how calm he was about the whole thing. I had just revealed that the Earl of March intended to kill his own foster-brother, and he just stood there, munching on his pastry. “My lord,” I whispered urgently. “Should we not warn the Count?”
“Well,” he said, “I fear it might be a bit late for that.” He laughed when he saw my expression, and clapped a hand, sticky with food, on my shoulder. “Last night Sturgar challenged Kieldrou to a duel, for the pleasure of the court. They are round at the practice yard now, getting ready – Sturgar must have gone there straight from pouring his heart out to young Revenar in the stable. Come with me and watch. Sometimes these exercises get out of control and people get hurt, which might be what friend Sturgar is planning. But you must not fear – you haven’t seen Kieldrou with a sword in his hand. Why, he’s nearly as good as I am. Come on, let’s go.”
And so, with an arm around my shoulders, Derian led me out of the stable yard.
I was apprehensive, not only because I knew of the foul deed that the Earl of March was planning, but also because Derian was leading me to a place where I was not permitted to go. The whole court was there, gathered around a fenced-off square where the two noblemen were to fight. There was not a single servant there, besides myself: only lords and ladies ... and the King himself. I had seen Theofric from afar when he arrived at the castle, of course – which of us had not? – but when Derian led me to a place at the edge of the duelling area I found that I was not ten yards from him. Theofric was getting old, nearing sixty I think, but he was as strong and upright as a young man, his eyes wide and his smile expansive beneath his long moustaches. I cringed in awe at the power of the King, so close to me, but Derian put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly.
“Hello, Derian,” said a woman’s voice to my right and I turned to reply, before I realised, of course, that it was not to me that the lady Atela spoke. She stood right next to me, so close that her shoulder brushed against mine, and I swallowed hard, even as my protector returned her greeting. She saw the look on my face and raised an eyebrow, then laughed sweetly when Derian explained that I shared his name.
“Well then, young Derian, the calmer of horses, you make sure you prove yourself worthy to share a name with the Count’s brother.” She smiled at me as she spoke and I nodded, dumbly, not even thinking to wonder that she remembered the stable lad who had held her skittish horse.
But there was no time for more talk, as the combatants now arrived in the fighting square. Both men wore quilted tunics and helmets upon their heads, affording some protection from sword blows, but even I was aware that a padded hauberk would be scant protection against a powerful cut aimed at the right place. Even though they would carry shields as well, their swords were heavy and sharp, not blunted blades such as men usually use in the practice yard. This could so easily turn nasty, I thought, and I thrilled with tense anticipation.
Derian felt my shoulders stiffen and he patted me warmly. “There’s nothing to fear, you’ll see,” he murmured, before turning to Atela. “He is a good lad, Atela, and I am already proud that he is my namesake.”<
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One of the younger lords stepped into the fighting square. He held up his hands for quiet and bowed low to the King.
“My lord King, lords and ladies of Hograth,” he said, his voice loud and clear. “We have gathered here to watch a display of arms between Kieldrou, the Count of Trall, and Sturgar, the Earl of March. Sturgar has called upon the Count to mount this display, to entertain us for a while, before we must turn once again to the affairs of the kingdom. Let this be a good fight, to assure our King that, should the Hussanians dare to invade our lands again, we have the skill and the strength to repel them, as we have done so often before.”
The young lord’s words were met by loud cheering and vigorous clapping. Some of the younger men threw their caps in the air, and the ladies waved their favours to show their approbation. The King beamed and bowed to the two duellists, who raised their swords in salute and took their places in their allotted corners. Kieldrou was attended there by Andryn, his dour-faced Chancellor, while Sturgar talked in low tones with Gorden, the Earl of Revenar. From the narrow-eyed glances he threw towards the Count as they spoke, I knew that he still contemplated murder, and I half turned to Derian to tell him so. But the Trallian tightened his grip on my shoulder. “Be still, and have faith,” he
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