King's Champion

by Peter Grant

  The younger man persisted, greatly daring. “Forgive my ignorance, Master. I do not challenge what you have just said; but I cannot understand why one old man is so great a threat to us, let alone the entire Graben people. Are our combined powers not infinitely greater than his?”

  “In theory, yes, they are: but the Graben would doubtless have said the same before the Battle of Tarbon. By our arts, we aided their Champion to kill Sigurd, the King’s Champion; but Owain wrested the body of his slain friend from their grasp, killing their own Champion and six more of their mightiest warriors in the process. In doing so, he inspired the enemy to win a great victory against overwhelming odds, destroying an entire generation of Graben fighters. He went on to become King’s Champion in his turn. He helped inspire Avranche to defeat, first the Black Coast pirates, then our own armies of Karsh. Our sorceries could never bring him down, despite all our efforts. Why was that, do you think?”

  “I assumed it was because their priests protected him.”

  “I doubt whether all the priests in the Kingdom could have warded off the bolts of power we sent against him. There is something indomitable about that man, something that makes even demons quail. He does not suffer from the moral weaknesses that aided us in killing Sigurd. Do not underestimate him. It would be a fatal error, and has been to many before you.”

  “I shall not, Master, but… does not his advancing age make him less of a threat?”

  “Perhaps you should ask the late Prince Ilvan and his bodyguards about that – also their gruefells.” The other’s voice was as dry as ancient dust.

  The younger man hung his head. “I – I apologize, Master. I shall not be so foolish again.”

  “See to it that you are not. I want a scouting party sent to the inn to physically search its ruins. If the urn, the sword shards, the scrolls and the gold are still there, they are to bring them to us. I doubt they will find anything, but let us at least eliminate that possibility. Also, have Prince Ilvan’s torc brought here from his quarters. We dare not let it fall into the wrong hands. Maintain your watch over Owain, and on the roads from his home to Kingsholme and Atheldorn. If he sends out a messenger, we must intercept him and find out what he is carrying. Use only scrying spells. With the loss of two gruefells, we have barely enough for our other needs. Inform me at once if Owain himself prepares for a journey.”

  “I hear and obey, Master.” The younger man made obeisance once more, backed out of the circle, and hurried away.

  The older man stood still for a moment, real fear touching him for the first time in years. They were so close to the fulfillment of all they had worked for… all the strands in the complex web that had taken decades to weave were coming together in their hands… and now, this! Bitterly he wished upon the sin-blackened soul of Prince Ilvan every eternal torment his inventive mind could imagine. If a man like Owain learned what was truly afoot, their odds of success would decrease dramatically.

  “Would it be better to kill him at once, just to be sure?” the man asked himself sotto voce. “It might be best, rather than take an unnecessary chance – but would doing so alert others to our activities? I must think on this.”

  V

  The sun had not yet peeped above the horizon when Owain turned the wagon onto the path leading to Diava’s farm. The old man was waiting for him on the porch, dressed warmly, standing next to a backpack, a canvas bag and a bedroll. His son and daughter stood with him, along with their families. The women and younger children were all in tears.

  “Father, must you go?” his daughter pleaded.

  “Sahar, you know I’d drive you mad over the next few months if I stayed, particularly when the pain worsened. Let me go, girl. Live long and happy, and have happy memories of me. You wouldn’t, you know, if you had to tend me through my last weeks. You’d end up resenting me for being such a demanding old sod.”

  “Your father’s right,” Owain agreed as he joined them. “Filial loyalty’s all very well, but it can cost high in tolerance and understanding. Not everyone is able to pay that price.” He turned to his friend. “Ready?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Eon loaded his father’s baggage into the back of the wagon while the old man embraced the others, then hugged him in his turn. “Send us word now and again if you can, Father. We’d like to know where you are and what you’re doing.”

  “It might shock your sister to hear it. I may find I’ve a wild oat or two yet unsown.”

  “Father!” Sahar scolded, blushing, as the others laughed.

  Owain helped Diava climb up to the wagon seat. The springs beneath it creaked as he sat down, then he exclaimed in pleasure. “You listened! This is a fine cushion.”

  “I didn’t want to hear complaints about the state of your arse for mile after mile.”

  “Ha! I notice you got one for yourself as well.”

  “I reckoned you wouldn’t want to hear my complaints for mile after mile, either.”

  Laughing, waving their farewells, they set off down the path.

  “Did you say your goodbyes too?” Diava asked as they turned west onto the Kingsholme highway.

  Owain sighed. “I did. It was hard leaving everybody. They’re good people.”

  “They are. What did you do with your property and money?”

  “I sold my half-interest in the store to the storekeeper, for a note payable to my first daughter; the stable to Dirk, for his note payable to my second daughter; and the inn to Mark, for a note payable to my son. I registered the notes with the tax assessor, so everything’s legal and above-board. They have five years to pay the purchase price. I’ll send each of my children ten gold coins as well. That, plus the sale proceeds, will see each of them set fair.”

  “You didn’t tell them why, or where you’re going?”

  “They all live in other towns, so unless our travels take us there, I won’t see them. I’ll send them letters from the monastery, to be delivered by the healer priests on their rounds, along with their gold and copies of the notes.”

  “That’s probably the most trustworthy way to do it. They’ll be sorry to hear the news, of course, even though they’ll be happy for the money.” The old man was silent for a moment. “You’re not expecting to come back either, are you?”

  Owain nodded. “I fear so. Still, when you take up arms, you know how slim the odds are of dying in your own bed, with your boots off. If my time’s almost up, I’d as soon go out fighting the sort of enemies who’ll send raiders on gruefells to rape and murder innocent people.”

  “Well said! The Gods give us all one life, and they demand of us all one death. We may as well spend both as usefully as we can.”

  —————

  They pushed the horses hard, eating up the miles. At noon, they turned onto the north road towards Siricha. By twilight they were climbing a shallow uphill slope to an inn at the crest. Already lamplight was spilling from its windows, and a lighted lantern hung over the double doors of the large, roomy stable. An ostler hurried to the wagon box as they pulled up in the courtyard.

  “Good e’en to ye. D’ye want your wagon and horses in the barn and stable, or the paddock?”

  “Barn and stable,” Owain said as he climbed down from the box, stretching. “The horses have covered many miles today at a fast pace. They’re tired and sweaty. Rub them down well, and give them plenty of hay, a nosebag of oats, and a blanket to keep them warm. I’ll be out later to check on them. Here.” He tossed the man a silver coin. “That’ll pay for it all, and your hard work, and leave a few coppers for you.”

  “Thank you, sir!” The other’s pleasure was obvious. The tip was probably worth the best part of a week’s wages to him.

  “Do you have a night watchman? Will our goods be safe in the wagon, or does one of us need to sleep in it?”

  “We have a watchman. He patrols the courtyard and buildings. None of our guests have lost anything to thieves all winter long.”

  “I’m glad
to hear it. We’ll trust him, then. Ready, Diava?”

  His companion grunted, arching his back with his hands on his hips, stretching. “Aye. I need to soak in a good hot bath. My old bones are less able to stand up to a day’s hard travel than I thought they were.”

  “Mine too. I was reminded of that last week. Today was easier for me, though, after all those days on the road.”

  Owain tossed him his canvas bag from the rear of the wagon, and picked up his backpack and a weapon case. They crossed the courtyard and entered the taproom, where the innkeeper boomed a welcome. “Good e’en, friends. Will ye be staying with us tonight?”

  “Aye. We’ll need a double room, clean, with comfortable beds, and plenty of good food.” Owain laid three silver coins on the bar. “There’ll be several others joining us soon – I’m not sure how many. This will pay for them. If you need more, I have it.”

  The innkeeper scooped up the money. “I’ll be glad of their custom, this early in the season. There’s a sheep on the spit, and I’ll open another barrel of ale. Will you wash before you eat?”

  “Aye.”

  “I’ll have the scullery maid draw baths for you. Come with me.”

  As they headed for the stairs, Diava asked quietly, “That’s the first you’ve said about others joining us. Who are they?”

  Owain smiled. “Wait and see, old friend. I think you’ll not be disappointed. Enjoy your bath. Remember, it’s the last one you’ll get for more than a week, if all goes well – longer, if it doesn’t.”

  They were on their second helpings of roast mutton and vegetables, piled high on wooden trenchers and washed down with tankards of passable ale, when the front door opened. Seven men came in, laughing and talking among themselves, dressed warmly, swords and daggers at their sides.

  “They look uncommonly like men-at-arms, even though they’re not in uniform,” Diava observed through a mouthful of meat.

  “They are indeed – or rather, they were,” Owain confirmed, waving at the man at the head of the group, who came over to their table. “Greetings, Calvart.”

  “Greetings, Master Owain. ’Tis long and long since I’ve seen you.”

  “Aye, there was more color in my hair and beard when last I visited the farm. The Major got my message, and the money?”

  “He did, sir. He said to thank you, and to tell you it was most welcome after the hard winter we’ve just had, with no money coming in yet from spring sales. We’ve brought the horses and a light, fast wagon, and four men to accompany you. I picked them myself. They’re all good with their weapons, and all single, as you wanted.”

  “Thank you. I’ve paid the innkeeper for your rooms and board. I won’t talk business in here where he or others might overhear us. We’ll do that on the road tomorrow. I’ll ask the innkeeper to have breakfast ready at dawn.”

  “As you wish, sir. That mutton smells good. We’ll clean up, then come and eat.”

  As he walked away towards the bar, Diava murmured, “Who’s ‘the Major’?”

  Owain grinned, and replied equally quietly, “You know him – Major Marcial, formerly of the King’s Bodyguard.”

  “By all the Gods, yes!” The old man’s face broke into a smile as he slapped his thigh. “He was a good officer. He retired after the Qitharan War. I heard he bought a big farm south of Siricha with his loot. Something about breeding horses for the Army with a pack of sons and grandsons?”

  “That’s him. I sent Dirk’s son to him at the crack of dawn yesterday, with a pair of fast horses to ride relay, bearing a message and a purse. I asked him to sell us more horses and a few other things. I also asked whether he could lend us a few well-armed, trustworthy veterans to escort us to Atheldorn, bringing their own weapons, gear and food. The bandits in the forest will be looking for easy pickings after a hard winter, but most of them won’t attack a strong party. I warned him that there might be danger from more than bandits, and offered to pay a gold piece to each man in advance, with another to be paid at the monastery. I was sure some of his people would like to earn extra money before the spring and summer markets.”

  Diava nodded. “Word has it he hires only military veterans. Those men look like worthwhile fellows to have around. I’ll be glad of their company. This journey may not be so tricky after all.”

  “I hope the Gods don’t decide to teach us a lesson, after hearing you say that!”

  —————

  They left soon after dawn the following morning. They pulled off the road a mile away from the inn, once they’d passed out of sight of its windows. The morning sun still had little warmth in its rays, and the breath of men and horses steamed in the early light. The wagons’ wheels and their teams’ iron-shod hooves crunched over the frost on the grass.

  “All right, gather round,” Owain said as he stood up on the wagon box. The others dismounted from horse and wagon and formed a half-circle in front of him. He waited until they’d all gathered, then said, “I’m on my way to the monastery at Atheldorn. There are those who’d prefer I not get there, including Graben raiders and possibly others as well. They may be looking for me on the highways, but they’ll not expect me to travel through the Wald. Its roads are poor, there are no inns, and it’s dark and gloomy; but those same things mean that few people willingly travel from one end of it to the other, so with luck my enemies won’t look for me there. Even if they do, it’ll be hard for them to identify me, and I plan to make it harder still.

  “Don’t delude yourselves that we won’t have at least some trouble. I’ve already had to fight my way clear of one attack. It left eight people, my war hound, a horse and two gruefells dead.” There was a simultaneous intake of breath from everyone except Diava. “Yes, you heard me right – gruefells. There may be more where they came from. There are also the bandits of the forest, who might take an unwelcome interest in us. That’s why I asked Major Marcial for volunteers to escort me to Atheldorn. I specified they were to be good with their weapons, and single – I’ll not willingly expose a married man to this sort of hazard.” He looked at Calvart. “Who did you bring?”

  “Apal, Dort, Kimeta and Rostam volunteered.” As he mentioned each name, the man concerned raised his hand. “I’ll vouch for them. All joined us over the past four or five years. Apal and Kimeta are horse archers, while Dort and Rostam are spearmen, and all can handle a sword and dagger too. They’ve demonstrated skill with their weapons to my satisfaction while training with us, defending the farm against horse thieves, and escorting horses to auction. They’re all single. You said you’d pay one gold coin per man now, and another on safe arrival?”

  “I did.” Owain dipped into his waist pouch and brought out four gold coins. “Do you want to send them back to the farm with Calvart, or keep them yourselves?” he asked the four men.

  Dort said, “I’ll send mine back to the farm. If anything happens to me, my will’s drawn up. The Major will send it to my parents.”

  “Your choice. Here.” He tossed him a coin.

  Dort put it to his mouth and bit it, then examined it closely. His face broke into a smile. “It’s real.” He handed it to Calvart, who put it in his waist pouch.

  The other three nodded, and Owain gave their coins to the foreman as well. “You’ll get another at Atheldorn. If any man is killed escorting us, I’ll have the others take his second coin to the Major, or send it with one of the healer priests doing his rounds.”

  “I’m thanking you,” Rostam said. “We’ll trust the King’s Champion to look after us. We know your reputation, so we’ll take your orders.”

  “Good.” He gestured to Diava. “Troop Sergeant Diava here is retired from the King’s Bodyguard, so you can trust him as well. You brought your own gear, and supplies for ten days?”

  “We did,” Apal agreed. “They’re in our wagon. The Major’s lent us horses and tack.”

  “That’s right. I promised to pay for any that are injured or lost. And my horses?”

  Kimeta smiled. “The Major
sold you six good ones; the black pair, the chestnut pair and the bay pair. They were bred and trained for the Army. They’re all saddle- and harness-broken, in prime condition. They’ll keep up a fast pace for days if you give them some oats – there are two sacks in our wagon, and nosebags – to supplement their water and grazing. You have your own saddle?”

  “I do, but I won’t ride a horse today. Diava and I will drive the wagons while you four ride. We’ll rotate driving duties from tomorrow. I’ll send my team back to the farm with you, Calvart. They may have been seen at my stable, so I’d rather change them for others, good horses though they are. Ask the Major to look after them for me until I come back. I’ll pay him for their keep.”

  “I’ll do that,” the foreman agreed. “I’ve also brought the two additional wagon covers you asked for, and a spare set of harness. They’re in our wagon, along with the pack saddle you wanted.”

  “Thank you.” Owain hesitated. “You brought four men to ride with me. Why did you bring two more?”

  “You aren’t the only one to be concerned about forest bandits. If I’m to ride back to the farm bearing the rest of the purchase price for the horses, and the gold for our four men, I want enough well-armed company to keep them at a distance if necessary.”

  “We think alike on that; but the fewer who know my movements, the better. There may be people seeking news of me, so please see to it that none of you speak of this journey or my plans. Please ask the Major to do the same.”