by Brian Murray
“No, he had not,” stormed the nobleman indignantly.
The Chosen paused, watching the nobleman, who would not make eye contact and fidgeted in his chair.
“I want him punished,” insisted the nobleman weakly.
“What would you have me do?”
“Hang him,” spat out the man almost hysterically.
“You want me to hang a man without a trial?”
“He killed my boy and deserves to die,” snarled the noble. “You have the power to hang him without a trial.”
Again, the Chosen paused and studied the nobleman. The man again shifted in his seat, appearing very nervous – nervous rather than vengeful or mournful.
“Yes, my word is law, you know that.”
The nobleman nodded and the Chosen continued, “Let me speak to the gladiator and I will judge him accordingly.”
“I have witnesses all ready to swear my boy was killed in cold blood.”
“All his friends?” countered the emperor.
“All reputable young men, high born, unlike that Rhaurn sor,” hissed the nobleman aggressively.
“I will speak to the gladiator and then make my decision,” said the Chosen, concluding the meeting.
The nobleman rose from his chair and bowed deeply. “Thank you, your Highness. I am sure you will deliver the appropriate punishment and justice will prevail.”
The Chosen nodded and the nobleman left him alone in his private chambers. After ordering Thade and Dax to present themselves to him, the Chosen sat in his chair with his mind reeling, for what seemed an age. He knew the gladiator was seeing his daughter and that Thade had been brought up to be a man of honour. Rowet could not understand why he would kill the noble’s son. His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door.
“Come.” The Chosen looked up from his desk as the gladiator Thade and his mentor Dax entered his chambers. Both men had their weapons removed, but the Chosen knew if it ever came to it, he would not leave the room alive. He smiled as both men bowed to him. Thade bowed awkwardly, peering around the room. This was his first visit to the Chosen’s private chambers.
“Please sit,” instructed the Chosen as he studied both men.
Thade was a tall, handsome young man with stormy-grey eyes, and long dark hair tied at the nape. Dax was an older, seasoned warrior, with violet eyes which today danced with anger. He also had long hair tied at the nape, but his hair was streaked with silver. As usual, his face was unshaven. The Chosen had always liked Dax, a former gladiator who always spoke his mind. The pair had been friends in the past and true friendships never end.
“You summoned us, your Highness?” asked Dax, his rumbling voice lacking any friendliness.
The Chosen stared straight at Thade and frowned, his own voice lacking emotion. “Were you in the public gardens yesterday?”
Thade looked at Dax, who just nodded slightly.
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And what, my lord?” asked Thade, obviously confused.
“I have had one of my nobles in here screaming for your blood, so you tell me what happened,” stormed the Chosen.
“A man attacked me and, unfortunately, I killed him in self-defence.”
“Self-defence?”
“Yes.”
“What were you doing in the public gardens?”
For the first time, Thade’s voice hardened. “I was in the gardens, that’s enough.”
“What were you doing there?” insisted the Chosen, failing to hold his anger in check.
“That’s my business,” hissed Thade coldly.
“I have a man dead and his father begging me to hang you. Do you understand? Your life is in my hands. Now, what were you doing in the gardens?”
Thade held the Chosen’s blazing gaze for a long moment. “I was in the gardens when a man attacked me and I defended myself.”
“What were you doing in the gardens?” pressed the Chosen.
Thade leapt to his feet, knocking over his chair. Hearing the commotion, the Imperial Guards outside the room rushed in with their weapons drawn.
“Minding my own business,” hissed Thade, his grey eyes begging for a confrontation.
Dax calmed the situation by saying, “Thade, leave now.”
The young gladiator glared at his mentor, his face flushed with anger. Dax just nodded and repeated, “Leave.”
Thade did not need telling a third time. He left the Chosen chambers without a backward glance, respectful bow or another word.
The Chosen glared up at the two Imperial Guards, then calming his anger he nodded, confirming all was fine. They left the room, following the gladiator. He took several calming deep breaths and looked into Dax’s violet eyes, waiting for the older warrior to speak.
“A bit hot-headed, that boy,” the warrior said softly.
The Chosen could only smile at this comment. “Just a bit. How are you, Dax?”
“I am fine,” replied the warrior, feeling more comfortable. “He may not seem it, but he is a boy of honour.”
“Has he told you what happened?”
“Yes.”
“Well?” insisted the Chosen, leaning forward on his desk.
“You’re not going to like what I tell you.”
“Just tell me and I will judge for myself.”
“Fine. My boy was in the palace gardens entertaining a young woman. He told me some drunken men started getting rowdy. They recognised him as the gladiator and started betting amongst themselves to see who would fight him. Stupid, they wanted to fight a trained gladiator. Anyway, Thade ignored the men until they started to verbally attack his guest. He stood up and told the men to leave, in his usual polite manner. One of the men drew a sword, and the others circled Thade and his guest. One of the men grabbed Thade’s guest, and tried to kiss and manhandle her.
“As I said, Thade is a man of honour but I will admit that he lacks the grace of patience. He drew his sword and cut the ties on the man’s leggings, causing them to fall to the ground. Again, he told the man to leave but the man stupidly attacked Thade. Thade defended himself and unfortunately the man was killed.”
The Chosen sat for a while, thinking. The story sounded plausible, as he knew the noble’s son was a heavy drinker and had started a few drunken brawls. “Who was his guest?”
Dax sat in his chair holding the Chosen’s steady gaze. “I would rather not say.”
“Listen to me, the story sounds reasonable, but I need a witness to verify the story. Who was his guest?”
Dax remained still and took a long deep breath. “You’re not going to like this, either.”
“Tell me anyway,” insisted the Chosen, knowingly.
“Ireen,” replied Dax softly.
“I thought that stupidity had ended?” growled the Chosen.
“That’s why the boy did not want to tell you. He was defending the woman he loves, your daughter.”
The Chosen rose from his chair and rubbed his shaven head. He walked around his desk, poured two drinks, and handed a golden goblet to Dax. He righted the chair that Thade had knocked over and sat down next to Dax.
“So, he was with my daughter?”
“Yes, they’ve been seeing a lot of each other. Thade did not want you to know yet as he wants to ask you for her hand.”
“My daughter? Marriage?”
“Do not sound so surprised. I’m sure you knew they were seeing each other.”
“Yes, I did, but I did not know it was so serious.”
“They love each other.”
“I cannot allow this.”
Dax sat in silence waiting for an explanation. He wanted to tell the Chosen he could not stop Thade, but waited.
“My son may not be fit to lead Phadrine. He’s not mature enough to be emperor and has a malicious streak, so my plan is for Ireen to lead my nation.”
“She’s going to be your first empress?” asked Dax, astonished.
“Yes, that is why I cannot have her marr
ying Thade. She must wed someone of standing, perhaps a Rhaurn prince, not a gladiator.”
Dax sat in silence and downed the contents of his goblet in one gulp.
“You are one of the few who knows my plans. We were once friends, and if anything happens to me, I will send my daughter to you,” explained the Chosen.
Dax sat in shock. “Yes, of course Rowet, I am honoured.”
“Thank you,” replied the Chosen and he paused in thought. “Now I need to deal with the problem at hand. I have to banish Thade from my city and lands.”
“You cannot do that,” said Dax coldly.
“I can and I will. That is my decision.”
“What about Ireen?”
“She will forget about him.”
“Don’t be too sure about that. You may break her heart.”
“That’s something I will deal with in my own way.”
“When do you want us to leave?”
“The nobleman whose son Thade killed wants blood. He may hire people to kill him.”
“And they will die,” responded Dax without hesitation, in a matter of fact tone.
The Chosen had seen both Thade and Dax fight and he knew that few could stop them – they were the best.
“Maybe, but you must leave today. I will arrange for someone to deal with your investments and coin, but I want him gone by midnight.”
The Chosen rose and returned to his chair; once again the Phadrine Emperor. Dax rose and bowed before the Chosen.
“As you command, your Highness.” Dax’s eyes were aglow with anger, but he kept his emotions under control.
“Yes.”
Dax left the Chosen’s private chambers and the pair left the Kal-Pharina and did not return . . .
***
Ireen squeezed the Chosen’s arm, pulling him back from his thoughts. He turned and smiled at his daughter. He felt better, so much better, now she was at his side.
***
When the company arrived at Thade’s home, Cara started fussing around. She had never been in the presence of a baron, let alone an emperor. She evicted Thade from his room to give it to the Chosen. Dax’s room was given to the baron, while Ireen and Megan shared Cara’s room. The rest of the men slept in the guesthouses, and the soldiers were happy enough sharing the stables with their horses. The first evening each group was left to itself, to re-establish relationships and friendships. The second evening, a meal was arranged for everyone in the main house. Cara enlisted the assistance of some local women to help prepare the meal. She spent all day in the kitchen, cutting vegetables, chopping herbs, and slaving over the stove. Men from the village brought some local wine, ales, and meats. The meal was ready at dusk and the company congregated in the house, smelling the rich food aromas wafting from the kitchen.
Thade and Dax arrived early to help Cara with the meal, but were fiercely evicted from the kitchen. Through the heat, steam, and aroma of roasting spiced meats and freshly baked bread they saw Cara stirring a thick broth. Without turning from the stove, knowing the two men were there, she snapped, “I don’t want you two nincompoops under my feet. Now get out!”
“But Cara . . .” started Thade.
“Don’t ‘but Cara’ me nothing. GO!” barked Cara.
“Fine, we’re going, we’re going.”
Thade and Dax scampered out of the kitchen, giggling like children as they entered the dining room. As in most Rhaurien houses, there were two dining areas, one in the kitchen for informal meals, and the dining room for the more formal occasions. Thade did not like eating in the dining room, preferring to eat with Dax and Cara in the kitchen. As far as Thade could remember, Dax had never eaten in the dining room and Thade himself had only eaten there twice. The formal dining room was a relatively simple room with wood panels on the wall and a large hearth, opposite a set of wooden double doors. The dinner table was a long, wide wooden oblong shaped top with a flat stone set in the middle for hot dishes. Around the table were a dozen cushioned chairs, the head chair slightly larger than the others.
Thade and his guests ate a rich meal of spiced meat, savoury pies, a thick broth, roast meats, and fresh vegetables, washed down with fine ales and wines. For dessert, they were treated to pastries filled with fresh fruit and berries topped with thick, sweetened cream. Everyone forced down pudding, no matter how much they had already eaten.
After the meal, all moved into the main room to sit around the open fire and swap stories. Warmed with spiced wine, the conversation was of better times, and new friendships were formed. Only Baron Chelmsnor left the group early, feeling exhausted, and retired to his room after thanking Cara for the fine meal. Shortly afterwards Cara left the group; all rose and thanked her individually for the meal. It had been a long, tiring day for her so she decided to leave them to their conversation.
Dax and Gan-Goran reminisced about their first meeting and how their friendship had developed. They had met while Dax was general of the Evlon army, before he had met Thade. Gan-Goran was on his way to the Empire after spending time in the king’s court in Teldor. Dax and his patrol had run into a gang of Kharnack rebels and Dax was badly injured, nearly dying. Gan-Goran had wandered into the camp, healed Dax, and their friendship had begun. Although Thade urged him, Dax would not tell how he became general of the Evlon army, only that he enjoyed serving under the baron.
The Chosen happily told stories of his lands and his capital, which kept everyone engrossed. “. . . And my palace is made of the purest white marble and stands overlooking my city, Kal-Pharina.”
“What happened to you?” asked Dax.
Rowet’s eyes became hooded as he replied. “The vilest treason, my own flesh and blood struck at the centre of my life. I will have my throne back, and with it my revenge. I will eradicate the disease in my blood-line by banishing him to the northernmost part of my empire.” The Chosen’s voice was cold and full of hate. This was the first time he had openly mentioned his son’s betrayal.
“How will you get your throne back, Sire?” asked Thade with interest.
“When the time is right my people will know I am still alive and they will want me back on the throne. However, I will need to ask your king for assistance. I will try to form a new alliance between our nations.”
“That’s grand coming from our oldest enemy,” announced Gammel, who spoke his first words of the evening.
“Well, Master Gammel, if it is true what you say about this Darklord from the Great Mountains and his ability to unite the Kharnack clans, then we are all in danger.” Rowet raised his hands and continued, “Gammel my friend, I do not say those words in question of what you have said. I sit here as a man, your friend, and not in judgement. I believe everything you and your baron have said. You will have the services of my army to hunt down the killers of your women and babes. I personally will not rest until such a man has been hunted down and brought to justice.”
“Justice,” hissed Gammel. “I will tell you about justice; there’s a man out there who killed my wife and daughter in front of my eyes. Justice . . . I will not rest until the man is lying at my feet with the blade of my sword splitting his heart.” Gammel scanned the faces in the room and realised that was the first time he had told his new friends his secret. He continued, “I don’t want any sympathy, or your help. However, note this. Friends we are and will be in the future, but I have my destiny to fulfil and then I will join my wife and princess who are waiting for me with the Divine One. If any man should stand in my way I will kill him, friend or foe. I will kill the man who has driven me to hate.” Gammel then rose and left the room.
Only the fire crackling in the hearth broke the silence in the room. Dax stood up and followed Gammel. A coldness filled the air, which the fire could not dispel. Thade watched Dax leave the room and lightened the conversation by questioning Rowet further about his lands, which Thade had visited and seen first-hand. Ireen sat under her father’s arm with her legs tucked underneath her, smiling dreamily as they talked about their
home. General Gordonia sat opposite Rowet, his eyes heavy from the effects of rich food and drink. To one side, Tanas and Megan sat together drinking happily, listening to Rowet.
***
“Gammel, hold,” called Dax softly.
“Leave me alone,” barked Gammel as he headed towards the door.
“Grief, my friend, is something neither man nor woman should face alone. Come, let’s drink some ale and talk a while.”
Gammel stopped and Dax stood in front of the huge blacksmith. Dax, a head shorter than Gammel, waited patiently as sobs wracked the large man’s body. Placing a hand on Gammel’s shoulder, Dax guided him to the kitchen. Once inside, Dax walked into the larder, removed a large cask of ale, and retrieved two goblets from cupboard.
“Here, drink this and let’s talk of your family. For one night, we will rejoice in their memory.”
“What do you know of my family?” hissed Gammel accusingly.
“Nothing, and I intend to right that. I do not know your family, Gammel, but as your friend, I want to know them. Not for you, you pitiful wretch, but for their memory. They deserve that, so share the memory of them with joy, and talk.”
Gammel glared into the violet eyes of Dax, still feeling full of hate. Should he challenge the man, or should he back down? Something inside him wanted to tell the man of his past and of his love for his family, but there was something stopping him. For a long moment, silence hung over the two men as they sat opposite each other. Gammel peered down at his goblet of ale and then tossed the amber liquid down his throat. Dax refilled his goblet and waited in silence.
Gammel looked up to see those violet eyes staring at him. The blacksmith sighed and began, “I met my wife when I was returning her father’s wagon after my father and I repaired a wheel. She was sitting on the porch in a white tunic and leather riding leggings, combing her long, dark hair that glistened in the sunlight. I was in love. Then she looked up at me and smiled – a smile that beamed like the sun. That was it; I had died and gone to visit the Divine One. My brain went to mush and I could not say a word. Then when I approached, she giggled. I tried to dismount the wagon but like a lummox, I fell at her feet, smacking my chin against the first step, knocking myself out cold.