Saviar dropped to his haunches, shocked silent. He had heard about his parents' exploits, their missions to rescue the West, his mother's visit to Valhalla. He also knew that Kevral and Ra-khir had fallen in love during these deadly excursions. But he had never heard that his father had a personal relationship with the Renshai's most cherished hero. Unable to wrap his mind around this stunning admission, he pushed his thoughts back to one he might. "So Colbey… pledged his allegiance… to Erythane and Bearn?"
"Shocking, isn't it?" Whether Kedrin referred to Ra-khir's admission or Saviar's question, he did not know. "Colbey did so swear in an informal ceremony before the King of Erythane. Remember, at that time, he was pledged to help protect the Westlands anyway, and he trusted the man who became Bearn's greatest king. Sterrane and Colbey were close friends."
Saviar took the information a step further, "And Colbey was nearly eighty years old. He couldn't possibly have guessed he would go on to live another three hundred years." The implications seemed staggering. "So… has anyone ever called him in to fulfill his knightly pledge?"
Ra-khir grinned viciously. "He's never taken guard duty, if that's what you mean. Colbey's title is not commonly known, even among the Knights of Erythane."
"To my knowledge, no one has called Colbey in for any reason, then or since." Kedrin put a more serious spin on the question, "Who would dare?"
Who, indeed? Saviar wondered, yet he also knew that in times of great trouble men sometimes resorted to desperate measures.
CHAPTER 6
Leadership can be taught, and wisdom can be gained; but character comes only from the heart
. -Knight-Captain Kedrin Ramytan's son
The story of sir Colbey Calistinsson consumed Saviar's thoughts as the three men traversed the highway between Erythane and the mountain kingdom of Bearn. It seemed odd to the young Renshai that he continued to mull the details long after reality sprang to the fore and begged dismissal of the whole idea. The fact that Colbey had accomplished some feat made it no less impossible, and even the great hero of the Renshai had fallen into this situation wholly by accident.
So, Colbey had killed a man, one of hundreds or, more likely, thousands. He had lived in a much different era: when a Renshai's adult status was determined by a kill, not competence with a test. History spoke of a time when, banished from their Northern homeland for barbarism, the Renshai had wandered through the West and East, slaughtering for supplies or, merely, for fun. War was a Renshai's life, his satisfaction, and his glee. And it had stoked a hatred that existed even to this day, centuries after its inception and long after the Renshai had turned to more peaceful means of obtaining their necessities.
It was during this period of isolation and exile that Colbey had been born and raised, and he brought the flavor of his upbringing into his adulthood. With a bargain and a battle, the Renshai tribe had regained a piece of the North, from that point on referred to as Devil's Island. Bitter about their loss, the combined armies of the North had attacked the island in the dead of night, slaughtering nearly every Renshai. Only much later, the shattered remnants of the Renshai had re-formed in the West from the three tribes, only one of which had a full complement of original Renshai blood. The tribe of Modrey. My mother's tribe.
Now riding behind his father, on Silver Warrior's broad rump, Saviar strained new muscles and let the scenery scroll by without notice. His swords tapped his legs with every stride in a steady pattern: left, right; left right. He appreciated their touch; without them, he felt as naked as any Renshai would. He sighed, understanding the improbability of his double dream yet unable to let it go. He wondered why Ra-khir had fueled his desire by using Colbey's status as both Renshai and knight to whet his son's curiosity. Even the immortal Renshai had not undergone the intensive training currently required by the Knights of Erythane.
Kedrin, Ra'khir, and Saviar had passed several other travelers on their way to Bearn. Most stepped aside with courteous bows for knights as respected as the Renshai were reviled. Now, as they topped a low rise, Saviar glimpsed a wagon around his father's broad back. It sat, lopsided, by the roadside. Freed from its traces, the horse grazed the ditches. Two ragged men stood in the center of the roadway, waving at the knights.
"What's this?" Ra-khir whispered.
Knight-Captain Kedrin murmured just as quietly. "Someone appears to need our assistance."
The knights reined their steeds in front of the men, who immediately started bowing and bobbing, as if facing royalty.
Saviar's troubling thoughts disappeared, replaced by sudden curiosity. He said nothing, taking his cues from his father and grandfather. They had a job of vast import awaiting them in Bearn, a summons from the king to obey. They could not afford to allow a simple broken wheel to delay them, yet they seemed prepared to do so. Curious where the path of honor would lead them, Saviar watched in silence.
"My lords," one called, a tall lean man with a mop of sand-colored hair and skin darkened by the sun.
Before he could finish, the other cut in. "My lords, my lords." He bowed deeply, his arms scarred and thick, his face craggy. Though better than average height, he still fell short of his lanky companion; and he sported tightly trimmed dark hair.
Perhaps to forestall an endless stream of greetings, Kedrin did not wait for the men to make a request. "Do you need help fashioning another wheel?"
"No, sir!" the second one said swiftly, with a tone akin to horror. "We would not ask your esteemed selves to assist with such a menial chore-"
"Rather," the first interrupted, his Adam's apple bobbing in his slender throat. "We wondered if you could save us the full trip to Bearn."
The second cut in again, his tone suggesting that he found the other man's gall upsetting. "Not that we deserve such consideration… but we understand the Knights of Erythane…" He paused with a deep swallow, as if prepared for his companion to leap in before he finished, just as he had done.
The sandy-haired man went quiet and allowed the other to complete his thought. Saviar forced himself not to smile. Their juggling act between desire and concern for offense amused him.
"… are wise and fair judges of conflict." He added swiftly, sweat visibly beading on his face, "We understand that we are not worthy of those most beloved and trusted by kings, but…"
Kedrin tried to help. "But our time is less valuable than King Griff's, and you're hoping to spare him the need to listen to your dispute in the royal courtroom."
The dark-haired man pulled at his collar, and his grimace softened to a hopeful grin. "Well, yes, sir. Only if you agree, sirs. Despite my neighbor's words, we're not concerned for our need to travel, only for wasting His Majesty's precious time." A flush covered the tips of his cheekbones. "Not that I think your time isn't of great import, sirs, as well."
Kedrin replied agreeably. "Only less so than that of the king." He did not await an answer. "A fine and noble thought that does not require explanation." Removing his plumed hat, Kedrin performed a grand flourish. Saviar finally allowed himself a smile, this time in admiration. He had seen both knights make gestures of this magnitude before, but they never ceased to amaze him. "I am Captain Kedrin, son of Ramytan, Knight to the Erythanian and Bearnian kings: His Grace, King Humfreet, and His Majesty, King Griff."
The peasants executed bows that looked awkward after
Kedrin's display. The dark-haired one with the scarred arms answered first, "Honored captain, my name is Eshwin, and I'm a breeder of fine horses." His gaze drifted to the white chargers for the first time, and he gave a nod of appreciation.
"Tirro," the other said, giving another long-legged bow. "I'm his neighbor, a farmer."
Saviar watched intently, uncertain where to expect the proceedings to go and glad he did not have to make the decision. Though dismissed as simple by most Renshai, the honor of the knights was filled with ethical conflicts and dilemmas on a daily basis. It seemed ignoble to discharge the problems of even a lowly peasant without fair hearing, yet
the captain of the Knights of Erythane could not spend his every waking moment judging every decision of the un derclass. Glad he was not the Knight-Captain, Saviar felt content to watch without preconceived notions or expectations.
Unlike Saviar, Kedrin seemed unburdened by doubts. "I will grant your request," he said, "but only if you agree to two conditions. I will cite them, and you both may decide whether you will abide by all or none. If either of you refuses, no judgment shall be rendered."
The peasants glanced at one another with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.
"First," Kedrin said, his voice booming, his presence strong and overwhelming, "You will both agree to accept whatever decision we make, without stipulation or question."
The men nodded swiftly but said nothing. Tirro shuffled nervously from foot to foot.
"Second," Kedrin said, in the same grand voice, "this is not a matter worthy of a captain or a well-established knight, so I will put the matter before the youngest of us. Our knight-in-training."
Shocked as much by the title as the realization that his grandfather had just put the onus on him, Saviar felt a wave of terror strike him. He froze, unable to speak, his mind stammering denials that never made it into words.
Tirro's gaze went to Saviar. "I agree to these terms."
"As do I." Kedrin's proclamation clearly did not bother Eshwin. Neither seemed to notice the abject horror that held Saviar dumb and unmoving.
"Very well." Kedrin motioned to the men again, not bothering to look at the effect his words had on his grandson. "State your cases. Eshwin first, please."
It all happened so quickly, Saviar had no time to think or protest. Before he knew it, the short man cleared his throat and began: "Three years ago, I bought a well-marked mare of sound confirmation and quality at a rather hefty price. I had obtained a magnificent stallion previously, and I intended to become a breeder. After the second season without a foal, however, I declared my only mare barren."
Kedrin looked at Tirro. "Do you agree so far?"
Tirro gave one long nod. "I do, sir."
Saviar's mind raced. He forced himself to focus on every word and tried to ignore the pounding of his heart, the worry that turned his mouth dry as cotton. He had no time to consider his grandfather's motives, only to concentrate on the details coming at him at galloping-horse speed.
Eshwin continued, "My neighbor had recently lost his elderly plow horse and asked where he could find a replacement. My mare seemed worthless to me, so I sold her to him at a pittance…"
Tirro frowned and shook his head.
Apparently catching his neighbor's reaction from the corner of his eye, Eshwin amended. "Well, a pittance compared to her initial price, anyway. A quality broodmare is worth so much more than a plow horse, but nothing if she can't conceive."
A pause ensued, and Kedrin filled it. "You were both content with this initial agreement?"
"Yes, sir." Tirro bobbed his head dutifully.
Eshwin's lips twisted. "Not exactly thrilled, Captain, but resigned. A horse breeder is nothing without foals, and it would take me years of odd-jobbing to raise the money for a new broodmare. At least, this gave me a start."
"So," Kedrin clarified. "Not a happy contract, but a legitimate one."
This time, they both shrugged, nodded.
Saviar clung to each word, nuance, and demonstrated emotion. Thus far, he had heard nothing that required judging. He hoped his silence made him look wise and pensive rather than terrified.
"Until the birth of the filly," Eshwin said.
"Ah." Apparently, it all became clear in that moment to Kedrin.
Saviar needed more. "So she was not barren after all."
"No, sir." Eshwin glanced sidelong at his neighbor. "I feel the foal should be mine. Without my stallion, she would not exist; and I sold the mare for the price of a barren horse."
"She's mine," Tirro said. "I bought her mother for a fair price we agreed upon. I owned the mare at the time of the birth, and the filly was born on my farm."
"At the least," Eshwin added, "he should pay a studding fee."
"Should I pay a studding fee when I never contracted for a foal? I didn't want her."
"Then give her to me."
The neighbors glared at one another as they veered onto old ground. They had clearly argued these same points, without acceptable compromise.
Replacing his hat, Kedrin turned his attention to his grandson. "It would seem, Saviar, that the time for judgment has arrived."
Saviar swallowed hard and dismounted. He executed both gestures as delay, but they gave him too little time to think. His legs ached from the long ride. He wanted to make a just decision, to please his father and grandfather; yet he also worried that he might thwart the law or make a grave mistake. "I…" he started, pacing to avoid looking anyone in the eye. "… believe the law sides with Tirro. With ownership of the mare goes possession of every internal working part of her." He stopped to glance at Eshwin. "One does not sell a chicken and expect to get back the eggs."
"But…" Eshwin started, forestalled by Kedrin's frown and Saviar's raised hand.
"However…" Saviar felt sweat trickle down the front of his tunic. "Laws are constructed to handle general cases and cannot consider every specific to which they might apply." He finally dared to look at Ra-khir who showed him nothing. At least, he did not look aghast. Saviar stopped in front of Tirro. "You care for your neighbor, don't you?"
Tirro's eyes widened, and he nodded vigorously. "Oh, yes, sir."
"You know Eshwin sold you the mare only because he believed her barren. Can you not forgive him his mistake?"
"Forgive?" Tirro blinked, clearly befuddled by the wording. "It is not a matter of-"
Saviar did not allow him to finish, turning instead to Eshwin. "And can you understand why your friend claims the foal as his?"
"Of course." Unlike the farmer, Eshwin showed no confusion or hesitancy. "She's valuable. An unexpected windfall."
Saviar turned his back for a moment to consult the knights. Both watched with expressions of mild curiosity and nothing more. Apparently, they wanted him to handle the judgment on his own; and they would not interfere, even with subtle hints.
As Saviar expected, the farmer defended himself from the suggestion of a selfish motivation. "No. He has it wrong. It's not the money I'm after, not really."
Like Saviar, Eshwin turned his full attention to the farmer. Clearly, the breeder had either never heard the upcoming explanation or had never truly listened.
"It's just that giving birth puts my plow horse out of commission for at least six weeks. I'll need the money I get selling the filly to rent another plow horse."
Saviar started to speak, but Eshwin interrupted. "Is that what's bothering you?"
Tirro stiffened, clearly startled by the question. He turned toward the horse breeder. "Of course."
Saviar glanced at the broken wagon, then at the horse, grazing placidly on roadside brush. Sunlight sheened red highlights from well-groomed chestnut fur, and its long tail and clipped mane looked combed and clean despite the journey. It had a thick chest and muscled legs. "Whose horse is this?"
The two men's gazes followed Saviar's.
"That's my stallion," Eshwin said with clear pride. "Beautiful, isn't he?"
"Yes," Saviar agreed, an idea coming to him suddenly. "Handsome. And mannered, too."
Eshwin fairly beamed.
"Can he… pull a plow?"
Eshwin made a dismissive noise. "Of course he can pull a plow. He can do anything." Suddenly realizing where Saviar was going, he smiled at Tirro. "Would you…? Would you like… to borrow him?"
Tirro continued to study the stallion. "You… would let me? He's your pride and joy."
"I can spare him for six weeks or so. He's a good, calm horse who will do as you ask."
Saviar glanced at Ra-khir and thought he saw a slight smile playing at the corners of his father's lips. Is it a grin or a grimace? Doubt assailed Sa
viar, but he refused to show it to the strangers. "It seems we have found an equitable solution, then. The filly belongs to Eshwin at the moment of its weaning, and he will provide for any upkeep beyond mother's milk prior to that time. In exchange, Tirro will get full use of the stallion for his farm until the mare can return to work. In the future, you may wish to make mutually agreeable arrangements for breeding the stallion and mare again."
Saviar waited in a tense silence that seemed to stretch into an eternity. The solution appeared fair to him, but he might not truly understand enough details of farming or breeding to see a glaring problem.
"Thank you, young knight-in-training!" Eshwin said with clear enthusiasm.
Tirro took a bit longer to decide whether or not he liked the compromise, then finally smiled crookedly. "Supremely fair, young man. You'll make a fine knight some day."
Saviar's cheeks reddened at the compliment. "You're welcome, kind sirs." Uncertain what to do next, he half-walked, half-backed to his father and accepted a hand up to the charger's rump.
The knights' horses took off at a gentle lope, soon leaving the farmer and breeder behind. Saviar cringed, awaiting his father's assessment. The neighbors were happy with his ruling, but he had no way of knowing whether or not he had found the right solution by the rigid moral code of the Knights of Erythane.
Ra-khir gave his son nothing. They traveled in a silence broken only by hoofbeats, birdsong, and the occasional animal snort. Finally, Saviar could stand it no longer. "Did I handle that… well enough?"
"You did fine, Saviar," Ra-khir said without zeal. "You did very well."
Kedrin cut in, his tone filled with all the excitement Ra-khir's lacked. "What your father means, Saviar, is you did a magnificent job."
"Captain," Ra-khir said warningly.
But Kedrin ignored his own son to continue lauding Ra-khir's. "You knew the law and cited it, but you also realized that the men in this case were bound by it only if they could not agree on another solution. Then, you steered them toward one that worked."
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