A Kingdom Besieged

by Raymond E. Feist

  It was very quiet.

  A massive Keshian fleet had sailed up from the south and was striking at Kingdom cities and towns up and down the coast. Although neutral, Roldem was historically close to the Isles and their navy was a possible threat. While sending reassuring messages to King Carol, the Emperor’s chancellor had also dispatched a squadron of ships which had taken up station just outside the harbour mouth in Roldem, to discourage the Roldem fleet from sailing out. It was a strategic move, as the Roldem fleet could easily crush the Keshians, but it would be an act of war and right now Roldem was working hard to remain neutral. The King wished to serve as an honest broker between the two warring nations so he ordered his navy to stand down while he sent diplomatic messages to the two capitals.

  As a result, people were staying close to home, out of fear of a Keshian assault on the city. Most judged it unlikely that war would come, but fear cared not for likelihood.

  Every shop they passed was closed or empty of customers, and every step past a street vendor brought pleas to inspect goods or hungry stares from pedlars too long without sales.

  ‘Is war coming?’ asked Ty.

  ‘It’s already come,’ said Hal. ‘At least to my nation. I don’t know if the first arrow has been shot or the first sword blow struck, but if blood hasn’t been spilled it will be soon.’

  ‘How can you be certain? Isn’t it possible this is some sort of ploy, a means to gain concessions from the King of the Isles?’

  Hal said, ‘One day I will be a duke and while I may not be the brightest student the university has seen, I do know how to listen, read, and try to utilise the lessons of wiser men than me.’ He was attempting to be light in tone, but Ty could tell he was serious. ‘Fleets as big as those Kesh has unleashed are not sent into hostile waters as a feint or to spur diplomacy. They are sent out to force concessions or to conquer.’

  He stopped, looking around. From their vantage point along the river docks, they could see down into the harbour. ‘You see that clutter of ships?’ he said, pointing.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Every one of those is owned by a man losing gold. Every hour a ship sits there is an hour that owner is not making profit. Wood rots, rope frays, metal rusts, and men must be paid even if they sit and do nothing; or they must be discharged and leave the owners without crew once business returns, but ships only make money if they are hauling cargo and passengers.

  ‘There are syndicates across the Sea of Kingdoms and in the Bitter Sea where underwriters of cargo are already losing fortunes, because goods contracted and paid for are not being delivered. Men sitting in Barrett’s Coffee House in Krondor, Rufino’s Tavern in Salador, and Hanson’s Inn in Rillanon, men who were wealthy a month ago, now stand on the edge of poverty. Lives are being ruined. Shop owners will run out of goods to sell and people will go hungry.’ He turned and looked at Ty. ‘At least so far Kesh hasn’t sent any assassins to kill me.’

  ‘That we know of,’ said Ty. ‘We’ve kept you out of sight . . . until now!’ He laughed.

  ‘But now we are just two young men spending a pleasant afternoon out and about, walking, taking in the sights, talking about life, and getting out of your father’s lovely establishment which is currently my gaol!’

  Ty laughed. ‘Was there ever so fine a gaol?’

  ‘True. But I am getting fat,’ Hal said patting his stomach. ‘I could use a hunt, a few days on the trail, some camp cooking, and I’d be able to get back into these trousers.’

  ‘Or you could eat less?’

  ‘Of Francisco’s cooking?’ asked Hal, looking as if what Ty had said was sheer madness.

  ‘Well, he is very good.’ Ty looked around and his eyes narrowed.

  ‘What?’ Hal’s gaze followed Ty’s.

  ‘Those men over there. I think they’re watching us. Don’t stare.’

  Hal turned his back on them as if he were in conversation about something private with Ty and said, ‘Tall man, black cloak, short fellow, green vest over dirty grey shirt?’

  ‘Those are the two,’ said Ty glancing off in another direction as if listening to something he didn’t want to hear.

  ‘Saw them watching us before we came around the corner. I thought they might be following us.’

  ‘You didn’t think to mention it to me?’

  ‘I didn’t want to cause needless alarm.’ Hal kept his back to them. ‘What are they doing now?’

  ‘Not watching us, and working hard at it.’

  ‘Do you know a disreputable ale house not too far from here?’

  Ty grinned. ‘Just the place, around this next corner.’

  ‘Back door?’

  ‘On a nice alley. I have had to employ it occasionally.’

  ‘Fights?’

  ‘Women.’

  As they moved down the street, glancing out of the corner of their eyes at the two men, Ty continued, ‘When we first arrived here, I was new to many things, including the charms of the ladies.’

  ‘You don’t have ladies in Olasko?’

  ‘I had a mother in Olasko.’

  Hal laughed. ‘I understand.’

  They turned the corner. ‘My mother thinks I need to settle down. She’s . . .’ His voice dropped. ‘My mother went through a great deal . . . well, let us leave it that she would be happier if I found some nice young woman and started a family.’

  ‘How does your father feel?’ asked Hal as Ty pushed open the door to the tavern. He glanced up at the sign they passed beneath. It showed a painting of a man in fancy livery being chased by a large black dog which was nipping at his heels.

  ‘Father thinks I’ll get around to it in my own good time,’ Ty answered. ‘He’s been through a lot as well, but it’s left him with a different perspective.’ He opened his arms expansively. ‘Welcome to the Running Footman.’

  It was just what one would expect of a riverside tavern in a port town: crowded, filled with workers, sailors, river men, and no doubt thieves and cheats. ‘Not exactly the River House,’ muttered Hal.

  ‘True, but for me that’s the charm, don’t you see?’ Ty moved to the bar and shouted, ‘Babette! My love! Miss me?’

  The woman behind the bar was at least fifty years of age, possibly more, with sallow skin and a badly applied mask of rouge on her cheeks. She had darkened her eyes with kohl, or kajal as it was sometimes called, and wore the most impossibly red wig Hal had ever seen, including those worn by travelling players and clowns. She smiled. ‘Ty! You wound me with your absence.’ Her voice was so gravelly that for a moment Hal wasn’t certain she wasn’t a man in some horrible mummery; but that might have been the result of the pipe that hung from her lips, or from its smoke, from the very pungent and strong tabac she preferred. ‘Who’s your friend?’

  ‘By name, Henry.’

  ‘Hal.’ He extended his hand and she took it and gave the fingers a squeeze.

  ‘Pleasure.’

  ‘We’re thirsty,’ said Ty, and Hal nodded.

  ‘Two blacks!’ she shouted and a young man behind her grabbed two large porcelain mugs and filled them with a very dark brew. He brought them forward and Ty slapped a silver coin down. ‘Let me know when that’s used up.’

  He led Hal to a waist-high shelf against the far wall where they could place their drinks and stand, for there were no empty seats at any table. Hal took his first drink and was greeted by a thick, frothy mouthful unlike anything he had tasted before. It was nutty and slightly bitter, yet it had a lingering sweetness. ‘This is remarkable,’ he said. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Porter,’ answered Ty. ‘It’s been brewed for years for the porters who work up and down the docks and river. It’s unique to Roldem, and what we have here is an example of the best; Black Beauty it’s called.’ Lowering his voice he said, ‘Just sip it. It’s OK to look drunk, just don’t get drunk.’

  Hal nodded. ‘How long?’

  Ty knew what he meant. ‘If they don’t come in after us . . .? Maybe an hour, then we leave out the back.
If they’re watching the front and waiting for us, we’ll skulk around the corner and see them before they see us.’

  ‘What if they’re watching the back?’

  Ty grinned. ‘I guess we’ll see them at the same time they see us.’

  ‘Tell me about Olasko.’ The two young men had been constant companions for nearly a month since word of the possibility of war had come, and had got to know each other well enough for Hal to count Ty a friend. Yet there was much about him that remained a mystery.

  ‘Not much to tell, really,’ said Ty. ‘The original settlers were colonists from Roldem, so the language is much the same, save for an odd word here, or a strange accent there. It’s not much of a task to learn the difference quickly. Among the Eastern Kingdoms it was very influential, as the last ruler before the present Duke Varian, a man named Kaspar, was very powerful and held sway. But that was a long time ago.’ He sighed and his face became a mask for a moment, and suddenly he looked a great deal older. Then his smile returned and he said, ‘But the mountains are magnificent and the hunting remarkable.’

  Hal said, ‘I should like to see it, and to go hunting.’

  ‘Then we shall do so, once this current madness is resolved. What of Crydee? How’s the hunting there?’

  ‘Very good. It’s mainly forested land from the foothills and up into the Grey Tower Mountains. We have boars that stand man-high at the shoulder.’

  ‘Certainly not!’

  ‘We do! The forest boars are big, fast, and mean. You need a boar spear ten feet long with a steel head and bolted cross below it or they’ll run right up the shaft and gore you while you wait for them to die! We have brown bears and lions, though they’ve almost been hunted out, and plenty of wolves and deer, stag, and elk.’ He shrugged. ‘And the occasional wyvern.’

  ‘Wyvern?’ said Ty, looking askance. ‘I bought the boar, but a wyvern? Dragon-kin?’

  ‘So they say, though that’s like saying one of those little dogs the ladies at court carry around is wolf-kin.’

  ‘You’ve seen one?’

  ‘Ha! My father has the head of one down in the basement. It used to hang in the trophy hall, but Mother made him take it down. Said it disgusted her.’ He grinned. ‘It was pretty disgusting, really. All droopy eyes and fangs, and the man who mounted the head for great-grandfather managed to make a botch of the ears, so they sort of went this way—’ he made a gesture with two fingers one pointing up and the other one pointing to the side.

  ‘Ladies?’

  It was Hal’s turn to laugh. ‘Nothing like you have here, that’s for certain.’

  ‘There’s nothing like the ladies of Roldem anywhere,’ said Ty. ‘Men who hold riches, power, and rank, it’s a lodestone for beauties of all ranks, noble and common. Now, the ladies of Crydee?’

  ‘Few,’ said Hal with a shrug, ‘if you mean ladies of noble birth.’

  ‘Girls, then,’ said Ty impatiently.

  ‘A few worth spending time with.’ His expression grew wry. ‘Remember that problem you have in Olasko?’

  ‘Mother?’

  ‘I have one too, in Crydee.’ He sighed theatrically. ‘And she knows everyone, and I do mean everyone in the town. She cares for the ill and makes sure anyone who’s fallen on hard times has food, and takes charge of all shopping for the Duke’s household . . .’

  ‘So, gossip?’

  ‘Yes. There was one girl, a miller’s daughter, who caught my eye and I swear my mother had me in her room, bending my ear about not using my rank to take advantage . . . I was thirteen! It was my first kiss!’

  Ty roared with laughter. ‘So, not a lot . . .?’ he shrugged. ‘No, not a lot. A few, mostly when mother was away or I travelled, but nothing like here. In Crydee, I’m . . . well, I’m the Duke’s son, the next duke, so . . . it’s not like here.’ He took a deep drink.

  ‘Easy,’ Ty said.

  ‘One won’t hurt.’

  ‘But it’s never just one. Now, what do you mean, it’s not like here?’

  ‘Your father, is he noble?’

  ‘In a manner of speaking. He has a patent from the Isles, a knighthood in your part of the Kingdom, from around Ylith or Hawks Hollow, or somewhere. But we’ve lived in Olasko so long that it’s home.’

  ‘Well, there you have it,’ said Hal. ‘You can’t swing a dead cat in Roldem without hitting a nobleman. So even if you’re nobility, you’re not that noble.’ Ty fixed him with a mocking gaze. ‘You know what I mean. I mean if you carouse and end up in some tavern wench’s bed or she in yours, it’s only something of the moment. If I do it, I’m the Duke’s son. In a day everyone in the town would be gossiping . . .’

  ‘And your mother would find out.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Hal.

  ‘Sympathies, my friend,’ said Ty, feigning a sip at his drink. With a quick glance he looked to see if anyone was watching, and seeing no eyes upon them, he spilled some of his drink on the straw-covered floor.

  ‘Besides, there’s Bethany.’

  ‘Who’s Bethany?’

  ‘The daughter of Lord Robert, Earl of Carse and vassal to my father. Everyone expects us to wed.’ He sighed.

  ‘Not pretty?’

  ‘On the contrary. She’s . . . quite beautiful. Bright, funny, and can shoot a bow better than anyone in the entire duchy, save perhaps for my brother Brendan. Not counting elves, of course.’

  ‘Of course, not counting elves.’ Ty rolled his eyes. Like most Easterners, he found tales of elves, dwarves, goblins, and trolls problematic, bordering on myth and lore.

  Hal went on, ‘She’s probably one of the more attractive girls in the duchy, it’s just . . .’

  ‘What? You don’t like her?’

  ‘I like her well enough, but I’m not in love with her.’

  ‘Love?’ Ty looked genuinely surprised. ‘You’re a duke’s son. You’ll marry for political reasons, Hal. Love has nothing to do with it.’

  ‘It’s different out west,’ said Hal. ‘The King hardly cares who we wed, so . . .’ He fell silent. Then he said, ‘Beth is like my sister. I’ve known her since she was born. She’s the same age as my brother Martin. We used to splash around in the same bath, all three of us.’

  ‘Well, I’m certain it will be fine. At least it’s not like marrying a stranger, like some of these lot do.’ His gesture indicated the royal part of the island, so Hal knew he was speaking of Roldemish nobility.

  ‘Yes,’ said Hal. ‘If I must, I must, and probably I can’t do better than Beth, and certainly I could do worse. But . . .’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s my brother Martin.’

  ‘What about him?’

  Hal smiled a rueful smile. ‘He’s in love with her.’

  ‘He’s told you?’

  ‘No, actually, I think he’s too stupid to admit it to himself, but there’s been something going on between them for the last few years.’ He shrugged. ‘Even that would be less of a problem, for Martin’s as reliable and loyal as you could want a brother to be, but . . .’

  ‘What?’ prodded Ty, now very interested.

  ‘I think Beth loves him back.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Ty, nodding. ‘A brother who’s loyal being in love with your wife is one thing, but your wife being in love with your brother . . .’

  Just as Hal was about to reply, his eyes widened.

  Ty glanced over his shoulder to see two men entering the tavern. One was a red-bearded fellow in a grey jacket with a sailor’s cutlass at his side, and the other was black-haired with a dark green waistcoat and two long dirks in his belt. They were not the same men who had been watching them, but Hal noticed they took a good look around the room, their gaze lingering for just the briefest moment on Hal and Ty before they moved toward the bar.

  Looking down at his porter, Ty asked, ‘Did you—?’

  ‘I saw,’ answered Hal. ‘They recognized us.’

  ‘Follow me.’

  Ty moved with purpose but not with haste toward the bar an
d through a door to the right. ‘They’ll think we’re going to the jakes to relieve ourselves, but that will be good for less than five minutes.’

  From the smell of sour beer and human waste emanating from the corridor, Hal had no doubt they were approaching the jakes, but at the end of the hall there were two doors, and Ty pushed open the rear door, then pulled Hal into the one on the side. It was a large closet containing a bucket, dirty mop, two straw brooms, and barely enough additional room to accommodate both of them.

  ‘Be silent,’ whispered Ty. He kept his hand on the latch and peered through a tiny crack between the door and the jamb.

  Five or so minutes passed, then Hal heard the sound of men passing, then running out of the back door. Ty waited for a moment, then said, ‘Half the wall next to the jakes is down, so it’s no task to jump over the stonework and get out into the alley. They are no doubt running around back there looking for us, so we shall go out the front.’

  They hurried out of the hall, through the main room, and left without anyone taking notice. Outside, they turned back towards the River House and Ty said, ‘I think that was enough adventure for the day.’

  Hal was about to reply when the first two men they had seen watching them stepped out of a nearby doorway, weapons drawn.

  ‘Or then again, perhaps not,’ said Ty drawing his own sword.

  Hall drew his weapon and stepped to the right, giving himself a little room next to his companion. The street had solid shop fronts on one side, and the river on the other, so the two men would be forced to come straight at them. Both young swordsmen relaxed and stood ready. Softly Ty said, ‘You think these two didn’t hear about the Masters’ Court?’

  As the two men suddenly charged, Hal answered, ‘I don’t think they care.’ He knew from experience there was a profound difference between formal duelling and combat.

  Ty discovered that in the first instant, when he attempted to beat aside his opponent’s blade and discovered it was a feint not to gain blade position but so that he could bring up a short knife in his left hand and drive it into Ty’s stomach. But Ty was fast enough to recognize the threat. Turning slightly, he let the man go by. ‘So, that’s how it’s going to be?’ He kicked out and left the man sprawling.