The King's Peace

by Jo Walton

  We went in great state. It was Urdo’s first official visit there since he had quarreled with Father Gerthmol. As if that wasn’t enough, we were going there to pray for an heir to the kingdom. Elenn and Garah went wild for a month before sorting gifts and food to take. I took half the ala and a new set of armor for Darien. He was about to be sixteen, and old enough to come back to Caer Tanaga and join the ala. Urdo had a sword made ready to give him.

  Our foreign visitors were still with us. Rigg had not joined the ala. She spent some time attending to Elenn. She came out to practice whenever I was teaching lancework, but she was not assigned to a pennon or any duties. She created rather a stir at first by inviting all the personable young men of the citadel into her bed in turn, but before midwinter she showed all the signs of having fallen in love with our grumpy Vincan ambassador, ap Theophilus. Even more amazingly, he seemed to return her affection and the sight of them walking the walls hand in hand gazing besottedly at each other became a commonplace of the winter. Soon she was even teaching him to ride, and he was improving her Vincan.

  What he wanted with us was hard to make out. I know Urdo tried to have it out of him several times that winter. It seemed he wanted us to acknowledge the sovereignty of Caer Custenn. He dropped hints that Caer Custenn was about to reconquer Vinca, or possibly the whole Vincan Empire. Eventually Urdo told him outright that Tir Tanagiri was an independent kingdom and Caer Custenn lay across a thousand miles of hostile territory. He agreed with this and started talking vaguely about trade, and then even more vaguely about waterwheels and siege engines and ala organization.

  Ap Lothar was less of an enigma. She was the sister of Radigis, queen of the Varni, and she came with her sister’s authority to negotiate alliances. What she wanted was a straightforward military alliance against Arling Gunnarsson. It seemed that Sweyn had arranged a marriage alliance between Arling and Radigis which Arling had now repudiated in favor of a marriage with a Skath princess. Radigis therefore intended to make war on Arling and wanted our heip. Her kingdom, like ours, was made up of the original inhabitants of the land and an influx of Jarnsmen.

  “I could send an ala,” Urdo mused later, when we were riding out alone. “The question is which, and whether I would get enough out of it. The risks are high, but then keeping Arling occupied on the mainland is worth a great deal.”

  “Supply would be difficult,” I said.

  Urdo smiled. “It would. It would either be very expensive or chance losing a whole ala, when I might need them here. That is why I won’t do it. But I thought you would be begging me to send you!”

  “Maybe I’m getting old,” I said. I was thirty-three that year, no longer young and wild, and the thought of going away to fight in strange lands made me appreciate how comfortable I was in Caer Tanaga. We laughed together. Later he told ap Lothar that he would not send an ala to help her invade Jarnholme but would make a defensive alliance against Arling so that if he attacked either one of the kingdoms then the other would send help.

  We arrived at Thansethan two days before the festival. While Urdo and Elenn were being formally greeted outside the gates I was amazed to see my mother among the press of people. I slid down from Brighteyes and embraced her. She looked as frail as ever, and the sight of her with her cane and her familiar gold comb brought my home to me as strongly as if I stood there. I only ever twice remember my mother leaving Derwen.

  “Mother! What are you doing here?” I asked.

  She smiled in her usual grim way. “Your brother and his wife are here for the same purpose as the High King, to pray for an heir. I came with them. Morien thinks I came to make sure he didn’t convert while I wasn’t watching.” She snorted.

  “So why did you come really?” I asked.

  She rolled her eyes. “To see the grandson you’ve been hiding away here all these years. I was beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with him, and I’m glad to see there isn’t.”

  I felt my cheeks burning. I wanted to hide in my cloak. I had never exactly told Veniva about Darien, but it was absurd to think that meant she didn’t know. “You’ve seen him then,” I said.

  “I have. He’s about here somewhere, seeing to horses. He’s besotted with them, just the same as you and my Darien at that age. He’s shown me his four horses already, and told me Urdo’s promised him a summerhorse foal as soon as there is one. That’s very generous of Urdo, I told him.”

  “Darien will make a fine armiger,” I said. “I’m planning to take him back to Caer Tanaga to the ala after this visit. He’s sixteen now. That’s old enough.”

  “Too old to be living surrounded by monks,” Veniva said, dryly. “And as for you, don’t you think it was time you were getting married? There’s no use you pining after Urdo all your life. If he’ll go to this much trouble for his Isarnagan queen, he’s not going to put her aside no matter how fertile you are. Let me look around for you. I haven’t pushed you before because I thought it was as much use as trying to force a donkey, but if you want more children, it’s time you were getting on with it.”

  “Mother!” I was speechless. “I’m not—I don’t—it isn’t—”

  “Oh stop spluttering,” Veniva said. “But think about it. That’s a good lad you have there, and I’m not any too well supplied with grandchildren, and I’m not getting any younger.”

  Fortunately, it was my turn to be welcomed to Thansethan then, which saved me from having to think of a reply. I went riding with Darien that afternoon, and that evening there was a feast.

  At Thansethan there are no eating alcoves. Everyone eats at one table, or at a series of tables in sight of each other. The prayer they give for before food says that all feuds are set aside at the table. This is all very well usually, where feuds are not a question. It is the way we feast in the ala after a battle, all together. Even then there are sometimes people who have to be excused, and fortunately there are always duties that need to be done.

  Ulf was used to the situation and went to eat in the kitchens without prompting or even much teasing from the rest of the ala. The meal that night passed without incident except that Morien and Kerys were seated near Morthu, and they spent a lot of time talking. I was busy dealing with Father Gerthmol’s difficult politeness and talking to Veniva and Urdo and Elenn.

  The next afternoon, after the morning rituals, I had planned to ride with Darien again. Urdo was closeted with Raul and Father Gerthmol and wouldn’t need me. Elenn had gone out riding with Ulf. Before I could find Darien, Morien found me on the way to the stables. He was alone, without Kerys, which surprised me.

  “I need to talk to you,” he said, very seriously. I raised my eyebrows. “It is a matter concerning the family honor,” he added.

  My first thought was that he had found out about Darien and was horrified. “What’s the matter?” I asked.

  “Not here,” he said. “We must go out somewhere.” When I started to continue towards the stables he frowned. “Can’t we walk?” he asked. “We can talk more quietly then.” Nobody would have thought he was an armiger, let alone a praefecto, choosing to walk when he could ride.

  We went out of the east gate of Thansethan and when my feet found they knew a familiar way to turn I did not stop them. The path lay through the fields and past the spinneys, the trees glowing in new green, towards Goldpate’s stone. We walked for a little while in silence. We passed some armigers, exercising their horses, and then a group of prisoners carrying wood from the coppice. After a while we left everyone behind.

  “What is it?” I asked, when nobody could possibly overhear us.

  “The prince of Angas tells me that the man who killed Darien is in your ala!” Morien was almost shaking with anger now he could let it out. “You told our mother he was dead and his arms were on Darien’s grave! And instead here he is eating with us openly!”

  “I did not lie to Mother,” I said, trying hard to keep calm in the face of his accusation and cursing Morthu in my heart. I kept walking, which help
ed a little. “Nor did he eat with us, nor ever with me, he eats apart; last night he ate in the kitchen. For the rest, the matter is dealt with, as I told Veniva. He killed Darien, and I put his arms on Darien’s grave. He gave them up to me. The matter was settled before the High King after Foreth.”

  “Settled? How can a matter like that be settled?” His voice rose angrily. “It is bloodfeud, and he must die before it can be settled.”

  “It is possible to accept a settlement,” I said, guilt washing over me.

  “Only for me to accept one,” Morien said, visibly fighting to keep control of his temper. “I am the head of the family, whatever you think. It was not your place to accept any settlement, whatever it was, and I can think of nothing that would have restored honor in that situation except his blood. Bloodfeuds are never settled at once, in the first generation.”

  “I am your heir,” I said, as quietly as I could. I wished we were not out away from everyone, that Urdo was there or Veniva. Urdo was really good at explaining why bloodfeuds going on for generations were a terrible idea. “Until you have another. I could accept a settlement, and I did. Ulf Gunnarsson killed Darien in a raid, when he was seventeen. He gave me his arms in front of witnesses. It was a better thing for the King’s Peace that he live than die; he is Sweyn’s nephew, and now he serves Urdo.”

  “I do not care who he serves or for political reasons,” Morien said. He was silent a long moment, stamping along the ground. “You do have that right in law, but why did you not tell me?”

  “You’re difficult to tell things to,” I said, honestly. “I should have—I meant to, but when I came home there was the siege, and then you were yelling at me about making peace with Lew. The matter was settled. At the time it didn’t seem important that you knew the details.”

  “You are so arrogant,” Morien said, through gritted teeth. Goldpate’s stone was in sight now as we came over the crest of the slope which had seen the first charge of all time. “What would happen if you didn’t know best, Sulien? Would the world break?”

  I looked at him. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” I said. I put a hand out to the stone and leaned on it. “The matter was settled before the High King. If you are unhappy about it, you should talk to him.”

  “Oh yes, always your precious Urdo,” Morien said. “I will. Because I intend to fight Ulf Gunnarsson. I am a king, too. I know what is right and honorable, not just what is expedient!”

  I was furious then. I looked from his sneering face impugning my honor, to the rock they put over Goldpate the kinslayer. If I killed him I would be an outlaw too, and nothing would be achieved. “I think I know enough to defend my honor,” I said.

  “Your honor? Your honor? It is the family’s honor!”

  Of course, he didn’t know about the rape which made it my honor even ahead of the family honor. I couldn’t possibly tell him either, no matter how much he reproached me for not telling him things. “Take it up with Urdo,” I repeated. “The matter is settled, his weapons lie on Darien’s grave.” I was going to have to talk to Urdo about it, but I was sure he could make Morien see sense in a way I couldn’t because almost any conversation with Morien made me bristle.

  I tried to ignore what Morien was saying, going on and on about my arrogance and the family honor. I stared out over the rolling hills to the south, letting it wash over me. I thought if he got it out of his system now he would calm down and start being reasonable. But he just kept working himself up to higher and higher pitches of anger. “How can you bear have someone around you that killed your brother?” Morien was asking. “Even common decency—”

  I realized then that I didn’t hate Ulf anymore. All he was to me now was a steady and reliable armiger, more trustworthy than some. He had done well in the riot. He was an honorable man, whatever he had done to me years ago. I shook my head at Morien, whose world was so simple.

  “I’ll fight him even if you’re afraid to,” he said. My anger was rising again, and I tried to swallow it. Afraid? I who had led so many charges? How could he say that to me, when he had hardly fought a battle in his life? I struggled to say nothing. Morien would always try to push me as hard as he could so that I lost my temper and he could complain about me to Veniva. “But don’t you even care about Darien?” he asked. “I always thought you two were so close, I can hardly believe you didn’t care enough about him to avenge his murder.”

  He shouldn’t have said it. I didn’t think, I just hit him, and then when he was on the ground I got down and started to pound him. I probably wouldn’t have killed him, he was my little brother. If I’d wanted to kill him, I’d have drawn my sword, and then he’d have been dead. I don’t remember that fight at all well. I was angry. I had been angry with him for years. I don’t know if he managed to hit me at all. He certainly didn’t hurt me.

  The next thing that is clear was somebody pulling me off him. I couldn’t see who it was, but I recognized his voice. “Are you going to murder me if I let you go?” Conal Fishface asked. He had both his arms very tightly around me, pinning both of mine. I knew three ways to break the hold, but there was no point in letting him know that. Part of me knew I should be grateful to him for stopping me.

  “Not just now,” I said, and my voice shook. He let me go, and I turned around to face him. He was wearing a cloak fastened together with a beech twig with new leaves on it, but otherwise he looked exactly as I had last seen him. A scar from the fighting in Demedia would have been too much to hope for on that pretty face. “What in Coventina’s name are you doing here, Fishface?”

  “I am an accredited herald from the court of Oriel, which is to say Atha ap Gren, to Thansethan,” he said.

  “She must be awfully short of people to send,” I said.

  “Ah, I am glad to see you restored to your right mind and your usual pursuit of insulting me,” he said, and had the nerve to bow. “She is indeed very short of people to send who know how to eat with a spoon and to blow their noses on their sleeve and not with their fingers. We lost a lot of champions in Demedia, as no doubt you know. But I feel I would be just as much within my rights to ask you what you are doing here?”

  “I’m—” I took a deep breath. “Urdo’s at Thansethan to pray for fertility. Or do you mean right here?” I looked down at Morien in some confusion. He hadn’t stirred.

  “I already knew Urdo was at Thansethan, I ran into the queen in the woods, which is why I am on this path and not the more frequented one. I wondered why you were engaged in a spot of quiet mayhem in this place.” He looked down. “Ah, I recognize your esteemed brother. Don’t bother to answer the question, I can entirely understand.”

  “What if it had been a real enemy?” I asked. “Would you still have pulled me off?”

  “I had no idea who you were battering,” he said, spreading his hands. “I just saw that they weren’t fighting back, and you appeared to be thoroughly absorbed in the pursuit. I thought it might be as well to give you a little time to consider, and if assaulting them further seemed like a good idea then perhaps I could assist.”

  “He’s not dead, is he?” I said, suddenly worried. I stepped away from him. Somehow I didn’t want to touch Morien again. Conal bent over and picked him up then set him carefully down on top of the stone.

  “His blood beats in his veins, his breath stirs in his lungs,” he said. He pulled up one eyelid and then the other. “Neither is he shamming unconsciousness, and he may well be rather ill when he wakes up. If you were to sing some womanly charm over him to make his head and stomach feel better and stop the swelling before it’s too obvious, then you may yet be able to pass it off as a friendly family quarrel.”

  “Do you have a horse?” I asked.

  “I do. She is tied up in the trees just there. Shall I fetch her so that she can assist your brother back to Thansethan?”

  “Thank you,” I said. I didn’t much like being in Conal’s debt, and Morien’s reaction to the thought of Ulf was going to be nothing to Elenn’s reaction
to him, but I was grateful he had stopped me in time. When he was gone I did sing some charms over Morien, and they may have helped. In any case when Conal came back he was waking up.

  Conal gave him some water. “You’ve had a terrible fall,” he said, enthusiastically. “Right onto your face. It’s amazing your neck isn’t broken. Can you tell me how it happened? Were you perhaps climbing on the rock to show your sister how it could be done and were you unlucky enough to slip off?”

  “I must have been,” Morien said, frowning at me. “Whatever are you doing so far from home, Conal?”

  “I am a herald to Thansethan from Atha ap Gren,” he said again, smiling and pointing at the twig on his cloak, which I now saw was intended to resemble a herald’s branch.

  “Why in Sethan’s name is Atha sending to Thansethan?” Morien asked, struggling to sit up. Morien wasn’t always a fool; it was a good question.

  “In Sethan’s name, precisely,” Conal said. “She wants some better priests than the ones we are getting, all of whom are friends of Chanerig or, worse, Isarnagan oracle-priests he has converted all full of the spirit of the White God and eager to make us praise. If we must praise we must, but we think we can do it with a little less rigor.”

  “Don’t say that to Father Gerthmol,” I warned him.

  He laughed. “I shall say that we want to praise in the tradition of Thansethan, not that we want less rigor.”

  “There’s no less rigor,” Morien said. “Father Cinwil, who is Aurien’s priest at Magor, comes from Thansethan, and he’s very rigorous.”

  “Well, would less crazy sound better?” asked Conal. “That is Atha’s request, and I am here to deliver it for her.”

  “The queen’s here,” Morien said, suddenly realizing. “She won’t put up with your presence icily the way her sister does.”

  “I think she will while I have a herald’s branch,” said Conal, carelessly. “Are you feeling well enough to go back to the monastery, Morien? I have my horse here so you needn’t walk.”