Errant

by Armas, Florian

  The rain was gone when we entered the house, leaving two small trails of water through the hall. In a corner of the next room, a servant was cooking dinner, and both the smell and the fire looked promising. Jara said some words to her, then to me, pointing to a small adjacent room. The servant left and came back with a bathrobe. Inside the small room, I took all my clothes off. The bathrobe was too large, but dry, and that was good enough. Back in the large kitchen, Jara was gone and the servant had already tied a rope close to the fire, waiting to dry my clothes.

  “Thank you,” I said to her. Then I dared to ask, pointing with the correct number of fingers. “I am Codrin. You are?”

  “Milene,” she smiled before returning to her pots. I sat in a chair close to the fire, waiting for Jara to come back. Feeling no danger, I fell asleep until a man’s voice woke me up – Jara was still away. Women need a little bit more time to change their clothes than men. The tall and well-built Knight frowned at me, then at Milene, who answered him. I understood only Jara.

  “Good evening,” I practiced my Frankis skills, standing up. “I am Codrin.” He nodded to me and left the room. At least I understood the nod. I pretended to check my clothes, just to avoid the impression that I had left the chair for nothing. They were almost dry.

  The man came back after a few minutes, then two girls erupted in the room. They stopped, looking startled at me. The man shook his head, making the girls ignore me, and I avoided interacting with them too – another misunderstanding like the one with the ‘finger’ could have been dangerous. They looked so much like Jara. She is married, I realized with slight disappointment. The oldest one resembled my sister too, and I had to stop hard to gape at her. The youngest girl started to pick things from the plates, jumping on one foot around the table, and I realized how hungry I was. Milene arranged another small table in a corner, and invited me to sit there. I did not like it, but I said nothing and followed her instructions. There was a bowl with some old pieces of steak – old and cold. Leftovers… I am not a dog. I disliked it. I was no more than a vagrant for them, but one that had earned his place, and that was not the place I thought I deserved. With a deep breath, I went silently to the fireplace and picked up my clothes. It took me a few minutes to dress and put on my ring-mail, in the small room. There was still some humidity in the clothes, but at least they were warm. On my way out, the man finally took some interest, seeing my armor and swords. I shrugged and closed the door behind me in silence.

  Jara caught me at the gate. “Codrin, … mistake.” That was all I understood; she was speaking disjointedly, out of breath from her sprint. “Please come back.”

  “My clothes are dry,” I said. “Time to go.”

  “No,” she shook her head, taking me by the arm.

  Undecided, I stayed silent; it looked like she really wanted me to go back, but the indignity I had suffered was still following me. Mistake, I remembered. What mistake? Gently she pushed me further, nodding with a smile. It was her smile that overcame my reticence.

  Inside, I had again to take off my armor, and Jara placed me at the main table, just in front of the youngest girl. Eleven years, I guessed, unsure. She was now staring at me with undisguised curiosity. I am not an ogre. On my left, a boy close to my age ignored me. There was a moment of silence, until Jara presented me.

  “Codrin,” she said in a warm tone, and I nodded toward them before sitting. “… forest he … life ...”

  She spoke for a minute or more, her voice calm as if she was telling an old story that I could not understand. You don’t want to scare the children. The girls’ eyes widened, upgrading me from ogre to something better. I used the moment to socialize, winking at the girl in front with a thin smile. Her face reddened, and she looked away. Still an ogre… I caught the eyes of the man; he was studying me with a strange intensity.

  We ate with foreign words flowing slowly around me, leaving a faint impression of restraint caused by the stranger arriving from nowhere. When was the last time when I had such… We were a happy family too. Now I am my only family. At the end of the meal I took the delicate box Delia gave me when I left Arad, and opened it on my knee so they could not see it. I took out a small cake, and keeping it well hidden in my palm, I pushed it slowly in front of the small girl, Vio (at least I now knew their names). There was sudden silence and many eyes fixed on me, but no other reaction around the table. I pulled back my hand, leaving the cake in front of her. With large eyes, she glanced at Jara, who nodded with a smile, and the cake vanished from the table, a moment later, filling her mouth.

  “Vio,” Jara reproached her, half-amused. “Is it good?” Yes, Vio nodded, unable to speak. “What do you say?”

  “Mmmmmh,” Vio mumbled, to Jara’s laughter.

  I pushed a second cake to Saliné, the eldest daughter, around fourteen years old, and she forced herself to act slowly and eat the cake in small bites.

  “Thank you,” she said, staring at me with her green eyes. There was an enigmatic deepness in them that did not match her age, and I realized that she had inherited their mother’s eyes, while Vio’s were blue.

  I gave cakes to all of them, even Milene, who was shy to take it and touched, she was just a servant. I’ve made a friend.

  “Mefilene from Hateg,” Jara recognized the cake, and that created a flurry of words around the table. “A … rare … in our house, today.” Jara glanced at me thoughtfully, and I had the strange feeling that the famous cake enhanced my status as much as the quality of my curved swords had impressed her.

  The dinner ended in a quietness that I wanted to feel again, and after a while, Jara took me to the room I was to sleep in that night – a small one, but there was a good bed and a bathtub waiting for me. How long they would allow me to stay? Maybe they need a protector…

  The next day, after breakfast, the children and Milene left the room, and Jara asked me to stay. Time to talk. It started with small questions that I handled well, then everything moved to more complicated things until I was no longer able to understand or answer.

  “Livonian, Silvanian, Arenian?” I asked, exasperated that our conversation was going nowhere, and the risk of misunderstandings was too high. I need to be careful. I had enjoyed the evening and hoped to stay a few days more, just to rest and feel normal again. Some information will be no harm either.

  “Livonian,” Jara smiled, and everything became much easier.

  I could not tell them everything, but I did not lie to them, just avoided things like being the legitimate King of Arenia. Who would ever believe me? My tale became the story of a young, noble man who lost his family and found refuge in Frankis. The names of the merchants I worked for and their cities were kept hidden, too – they belonged to ‘Tudor’.

  When I finished, Jara told me that she was hunting in the forest, and hid behind some bushes, dismounted, when the men appeared on the road. Her mare was scared by the thunder – the neigh I heard – and ran away. On horses, the men surrounded her fast.

  Slowly, she took out the necklace with the medallion I had given her. “I owe you a story,” she said, her voice filled with sadness. “This necklace was my wedding gift to my husband. It was stolen when … when he was killed a year ago. I am grateful for recovering it, and please forgive my reaction in the forest. I am not a lustful woman, striving for precious things.” She stopped, staring at me with her large green eyes. “Thank you.”

  “The necklace found its legitimate owner,” I shrugged, and without realizing, I glanced at the Knight.

  “Cernat is my father,” she smiled.

  She is not married… The thought passed with a certain intensity through my mind.

  “And a second story,” Jara said again, with a glimmer in her eyes. “Pointing a finger is reserved for asking sexual favors from whores or if you want to ... force a woman. Arenia seems to be different in this aspect, and he used it for me, with … some unpleasant consequences,” she explained to Cernat, who was puzzled at our ‘memories’ abou
t whores.

  “Well, I understand now why you laughed when I pointed in the same way to my horse,” I said, amused, and she burst into laughter.

  “May I see the ring?” Cernat asked when the laughter subsided, and it looked to me that his question followed naturally after the necklace story. “Just to see the heraldic insignia.”

  I kept it for the same thing, I thought, pushing the ring to him. I bet you have a much better chance of finding something.

  “S’Arad house,” both of them whispered with a sudden anger, without touching the ring. A flurry of unknown words followed, and Jara answered, just to calm him, yet her voice was not much relaxed.

  “From Arad,” I said, hoping to remind them that I was still there.

  “Sorry,” Jara went back to Livonian. “Just some bad, old memories. Never show the ring to anyone. We suppose it belonged to Bernd, Orban’s eldest son from his first marriage. Orban S’Arad is the Grand Seigneur of Arad.”

  Yes, I nodded, suddenly trying to understand the consequences of killing the son of the most powerful man in the region. He was a bastard. That will not make me safer. There is some bad history between them. I glanced at Jara’s necklace.

  “I will keep it hidden, too,” she misjudged my glance. “Why did he ride incognito?”

  My thoughts exactly.

  “I have to train Veres,” Cernat stood up, glancing at me. It looked again very natural, but my impression was that he was subtly trying to avoid further discussion about the men in the forest, and their stealth ride. “Codrin, would you like to join us?”

  “Gladly, my last real training was a long time ago.” If I don’t count my fighting to survive. I went to take my curved swords and followed him into another room. It was a Weapons Room, and that make me wonder about their real status. The house was large, but not a castle, and I saw no other armed man apart from Cernat. And Jara has a bow… Some things reconfirmed later that she was very good at using it.

  “May I see your swords”? Cernat was intrigued by their slightly curved shapes.

  I knew of no one outside the Assassins Sect fighting with curved swords, and I watched him closely for any hint of knowledge that could endanger me – the Assassins would try to recover the sword from any impostor, and from their point of view I was a fraud. There was an explanation for his lack of knowledge: after the four kingdoms emerged from the remnants of the old Empire, the sect settled in a lawless area south-east of Arenia – it did not suit the Assassins to stay inside a zone where authority backed by superior force could endanger them. They had business, but not settlements in the four kingdoms; the people Tudor knew in Nasaud were not Assassins.

  Because of the blunder of giving Jara my real name, I decided that ‘Codrin’ would always use curved swords while ‘Tudor’ the straight Arenian one, to keep my identities separate. Maybe it was a lucky blunder… Tudor is known in Arad and has nothing to do with the man who killed a powerful S’Arad.

  Cernat touched the blade, then knocked it with his knife. “Good steel. Elegant and well-crafted. You have good smiths in Arenia.” If he had some peculiar thoughts about the number of swords I carried with me, he did not show it.

  The swords that belonged once to Tudor were better than the Arenian ones, which anyway were better that the ones used here; Arenia was a more developed place. The Assassins Sect crafted their own swords, keeping their secrets to themselves.

  “The Assassins make them using iron from a large meteorite, and its place is known only by a few,” Tudor told me once. “The blade is forged one thousand times to gain strength and springiness. But these are the only things I can reveal to you.” His voice was still fresh in my mind and the memories overwhelmed me. Busy checking the sword, Cernat left me alone. Then it passed.

  “Take a leather armor, and a wooden sword” Cernat pointed to a wall where several of them were hanging. “I need to make an assessment before training.”

  Protected by the training armor, we performed some warm-up steps, watching each other attentively, then he moved fast with a series of cross-hits that I parried. He was not Tudor, yet he was better than most of our Royal Guards in Arenia – of course, it is difficult to be the equal to an Assassin sword master. As I found out later, he was the best swordsman in the northern part of the former Frankis Kingdom. He tried a second series, with stronger hits. I answered by dancing around to avoid the full blows, parrying when they were already half-consumed, and set several traps of my own, too. He avoided them easily, but I had used no Assassins’ tricks yet. After another series of blows, I found a split-second and let his sword come down unanswered. He leaned forward from his own inertia. I slid aside, and my blade touched his neck.

  “Clever move,” Cernat said, stepping back, and I enjoyed my moment, trying not to look too obvious. In his corner, Veres was frowning, irritated by my small victory.

  Well, I shrugged. He’s your grandfather…

  “I would like to learn it,” Cernat said appreciatively. You are fast and have very good body coordination, but I told you this is not a duel or training, just an assessment session.”

  “What do I have to do?” I asked, annoyed; he gave me the credit I deserved, but half-spoiled it in the end.

  “It seems that we have a different understanding of the same thing. We come from distinctive schools of training, so no offense. Don’t attack, just defend yourself.”

  Cernat threw everything at me for a long time, pressing me forcefully. Once he scratched my leather armor and twice almost hit me in full, yet I escaped because I was faster. Three times, I had to roll on my back, after letting his sword pass without a parry. Trying to meet it would have altered the equilibrium of my body, pushing me onto the wrong foot. You can roll back only when the enemy is slightly destabilized, like when his hard blow goes unanswered and the body is following it by inertia. Then tiredness started to take a toll on me. It’s not fair, I mumbled, usually I was able to counteract fast and stop the fight. When I finally thought that there was nothing else to come, a long suite of very strong strokes followed, and each time I recovered slightly slower for the next hit until the last one caught me in full. His blade hit my chest and upper arm, yet the impact was not hard, he had already anticipated and slowed his blade. In his corner, Veres was jubilant.

  “Interesting,” Cernat said thoughtfully, as if speaking to himself. “I never met anyone faster than you. In a year or two, your force will match your speed. I would not want to meet you in battle. Wrong,” he said, after a short pause. “I don’t want to meet you even now in battle.”

  It felt good, yet I saw again a bad spark in Veres’s eyes and this time I was annoyed. You will make problems for me… I left the Weapons Room, and went out of the house. The girls were in the garden, and I watched without getting too close. I would like to join them...

  In the afternoon, I took my notebook, and invited Saliné to join me at the table. With my pen, I made a list of words in Livonian, and asked her to write the Frankis counterparts. She took it like a game, and helped me easily. When I had enough words to keep me busy that evening, I pushed a cake into her palm; and she smiled a smile reminding me that life could be also beautiful.

  The girls had a tutor, who came twice a week to school them in both Frankis and Livonian. Jara arranged for me to join them, and she refused me when I asked to share the payment. The tutor was born in Livonia, so he enjoyed the news I came with, and with his help, I quickly learned the difficult Frankis and Livonian grammar that still eluded me. In the caravans, you learn everything apart from proper grammar.

  Time passed intensely slowly, in a wait and see feel that no one tried to resolve – they never mentioned anything about my stay and I did not have the nerve to ask, trying passively to prolong the good moments as much as I could.

  “Higher!” Vio shouted, sitting comfortable in my raised arms, trying to reach a bunch of cherries of appetizing size and color, and I turned a bit to give her a better position. “I want the big ones there,” she
pointed to a branch that was not far from her hand.

  It was my third week in their house, and we were in full cherry season. At the edge of the garden, Jara and Cernat were caught in a discussion that, if not an argument, was at least contradictory. They are pointing at me... I watched them out of the corner of my eye, pretending to be unaware. When Vio finally reached her treasure, I let her down, and walked quickly to the garden’s edge, to Saliné’s chagrin; she was waiting for the same thing, but something was obviously wrong in my behavior. The ‘one finger’ misunderstanding resurfaced in my mind.

  “I apologize for my behavior with your daughters,” I tried to pre-empt any negative reaction. “From now on, I will stay away from them.” They stared at me in silence, with weird expressions on their faces. What was so bad? Just helping them to pick cherries, nothing inappropriate. “I can leave tomorrow,” I said hesitantly, with a calm that was only apparent, leaving place for a longer stay if things were forgiven.

  “What are you talking about?” Jara finally asked.

  “You were worried when I raised Vio in my arms to pick cherries. I assure you that there was nothing inappropriate.”

  “Codrin, we are planning to leave for a day or two soon and let you guard the house and the girls.”

  “Then why were you angry?” I asked, it being my turn to be baffled.

  “I was not angry,” she smiled, resting her hand on my shoulder. “It’s just that we have only one horse, and ... and we did not know if you would agree to lend Zor to my father.”

  “Of course,” I said at once, relieved to let things pass, even though it meant letting someone else ride my horse for the first time. Not fully pleased by my reaction, I wondered if my desire for a longer stay was not slowing my survival reflexes. What is done, is done.

  “Thank you,” Jara smiled again. “I think that Saliné feels mistreated right now; it seems that she did not receive the inappropriate cherry picking session from you.” Her laughter filled the garden, and involuntarily, I caressed her hand, still on my shoulder, before turning back to the girls.