Nas said: “I will get straight to the point.”
“Of course,” said Sihr, “the gods were also capable of great clarity.”
Nas smiled. “You need training with the healing staff given to you by Freya.”
“I am aware I will need guidance with the staff. Who do you suggest?”
“I am already working with Princess Margret to help her unlock the potential of the circlet she wears. I am teaching her how to manage its powers, how to make it bend to her will, and not have her be controlled by it.”
Sihr furrowed his brow, worried. “The circlet may make Princess Margret do something against her will?”
“Items of magic are most powerful. The power it gives the user can be overwhelming, as if it makes them feel they have some god-like powers. People who use items of magic must learn to always remember that it must be used for good, not evil. The staff you have been given, it has great capacity to heal. But it could also be used to un-heal, to drain, to cause damage. If the staff were to fall into the wrong hands, the staff could be used for their evil purposes.”
“I am starting to wish that Freya had not gifted me with her staff.”
“Freya is wise. She knows you are strong. She knows you will use it for good.”
“Who then would help me learn how to use the staff, if you are already busy with Princess Margret?”
“Ah, that is what I want to propose to you. I would like to bring both you and Princess Margret on as students. I will teach both of you.”
“I thank you for the offer, Nas, but I cannot leave the Paupers Temple. I am the only priest here. There are no apprentices. I am currently looking for some, but few see the rewards of working here. They would rather be knights.”
“I need to speak with King Cormac, but I believe we may be able to make this work. I will suggest to him that I and Princess Margret stay in Trondheim for the next several months for her to better acquaint herself with Queen Astrid, and the people of Trondheim. A goodwill ambassador, if you will.”
Sihr was quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I think I am agreeable to this offer.” They shook hands.
Rickters said: “Tea and porridge are ready. Eat and drink while it’s hot.”
“Wonderful,” said Nas taking a sip of his tea. “Ah, good tea. Rickters, you would do fine in Aarlund.”
Sihr asked: “What news of the barons who abducted King Frederick?”
“No news yet,” said Nas, “as it is still too early in the morning. In Aarlund, they would have been beheaded. Here in Dennland, I understand hanging is the preferred method for dealing with traitors.”
“What did the barons hope to accomplish?”
“The barons were never happy with the peace accord. They felt more land in Aarlund should have been ceded to Dennland as compensation for old wrongs. Wisely, King Frederick knew that would have only added more grievances to the process, which would have made Aarlund seethe for generations. They also felt Frederick’s grip on the throne is weak as he has no heir. I suspect that the barons were even plotting against each other. Civil wars never end well, and certainly never end as the initial players had intended.”
“Do you believe they acted alone?”
“No, I see a shadow hand in play here. There is a puppet master we need to yet uncover. I have my suspicions but no proof.”
“Do you suspect anyone?”
Nas smiled a knowing smile. “Another time, Sihr, another time. I must be off. Thank you for the tea and porridge. Most delicious. I will be in touch about the lessons.”
“I look forward to learning more about the staff.”
“In the meantime, keep the staff safe. There is danger about, and I would not like it lost.”
“I will keep it safe at all times.”
***
“You are exiled.”
In front of King Frederick stood the three traitorous barons: Lars, Sakarias, and Cai. Unarmed, they stood defiantly in front of the throne.
Frederick said: “Your families will join you. If you step foot again in Dennland, I will not look favorably upon you.”
Behind the barons stood all the men-at-arms that wore the barons’ sigils.
Frederick addressed the men-at-arms: “If any of you men wish to accompany your former baron in exile, speak now.”
The only response was the sound of shuffling feet and quiet murmurs.
“Fine, I will be announcing new barons this morning. You will remove all sigils signifying your barons. And you will pledge allegiance to your new baron or else. You are dismissed.”
The men shuffled out of the hall under tight guard. They were to be kept in one of the castle’s yards until they swore oaths to their new baron. Only then would they be allowed to return to the tournament as new baron’s men.
“As for you three,” said Frederick once the hall had cleared, “you will be accompanied under tight guard down to the docks. There, you will be put aboard a ship that will take you to lands far away.”
With a wave of his hand, guards surrounded the barons and walked them out the door, never to be seen again in Dennland.
Frederick watched the traitors being led away. He drummed his fingers on one of the throne’s arms.
“I was hoping to catch the imposter as well,” said Frederick to Phillius.
“I suspect he knew he was in trouble and like most cowards, he left early,” said Phillius. “The guards outside your chamber said the fake king left early in the night and did not return.”
“Just as well. Him, I would have hanged.”
“I am just thankful you escaped the barons. Your escape must have been very daring.”
Frederick knew he could not tell Phillius the truth, and instead said: “Yes, I was finally able to loosen the ropes with which they had tied my wrists. I disarmed my guards, then donned one of their cloaks to make my escape.”
“I must apologize my king. I knew there was something wrong with the imposter. He was horrible at protocol, barely knew which fork to use at meals. I should have known.”
“It sounds as if his disguise was thorough. You cannot blame yourself. I have returned, the imposter is gone, the barons have confessed. We will make things right again in this land.”
A young page boy entered the hall. He bowed before his king. “Your Majesty, your queen awaits you at the pavilion. She said she looks forward to hearing your voice again at today’s opening of the King’s Tournament.”
“Tell her I will be there shortly.” The page nodded and left the hall.
Frederick sighed. “Those barons were never the brightest. I always thought they were the weakest sons of their fathers, yet they became barons. There is something else at play here, but I do not know what. We will dwell on this later. Phillius, I will open today’s sword tourney, then summon the three lords I will make barons.”
CHAPTER 21
The Sword Event
Farling woke and practically leapt out of his blankets as he cried: “Today’s the sword tourney, then after, it is the Squires Tournament!”
Grum and Arastead groggily opened their eyes.
“Is the King’s Tournament still on?” asked Grum with a yawn. “It has been so busy, it is hard to keep track of things. I am exhausted.”
“You are just hungry,” said Arastead. “Once you eat, you will feel better.”
Bringon came down the stairs banging a wooden spoon on a pot.
“Another day, another King’s Tournament event,” said Bringon. “Wash up, then bring your appetites upstairs.”
Farling smiled, said: “Good, then afterwards, I need to practice with the sword.” Sure enough, after breakfast, Farling sparred first with Grum, then Arastead.
“Well fought,” said Arastead. “You will do well in the Squires Tournament.”
“I look forward to competing against Conall,” said Farling.
“It will be a good match,” said Arastead.
“Who will you bet on?” said Farling to Grum.
Farling chuckled, said: “Interesting. I will try and impress you then.”
Bringon had watched the sparing as well, said: “Off you lads go, another tourney for you to watch. This time, try and stay away from warriors wearing antlers with huge dogs. Whatever happened to that man?”
“We heard the Master of the Hunt is gone,” said Farling. “He found what he was looking for and was no longer needed.”
“Well, that is probably for the best,” said Bringon. “Strange things are going on. But the King’s Tournament, thankfully is not one of them. Now, off you go!”
Without any more encouragement, they ran to watch the tournament.
***
While they did try to listen to King Frederick’s speech, soon they gave up and just talked quietly among themselves. Grum whispered: “I wonder what we will get for a reward?”
Farling shrugged, said: “I am still hoping that it is enough for my mother and brother.”
Arastead grinned, said: “I think he will be quite generous.”
All the other people attending the tournament also seemed pleased that King Frederick’s voice had returned. There was the occasional murmur about there being new barons, but even that news seemed positive. It seemed common knowledge that Barons Cai, Sakarias, and Lars were unpopular.
After a little searching, they found Conall and his uncles. Today was the sword tournament, and it would be Eithlenn who competed for Aarlund.
The sword tournament was a blur of excitement. As expected, Eithlenn made it to the final match, were he squared off against Sir Eyfrod. A close match, the points were hard earned, but in the end, Sir Eyfrod struck the winning point. Both were exhausted as they smiled and shook hands. The official only held Sir Eyfrod’s hand high in the air. He was walked to the royal pavilion where he was congratulated by everyone, including the new barons.
Eithlenn walked over to where his brothers and nephew stood.
“I let him win,” said Eithlenn.
Airthear smirked, said: “Sure made it look that way. I see it is up to me to win the joust and make us some extra coin.”
Farling grinned as he prepared for the sword tournament for the squires.
“Well, Grum, any bets on me?” asked Farling.
“Or me?” asked Conall with a laugh.
“Friends,” protested Grum, “I just hope to make as much coin off this as possible so do your best.”
***
Early on, both Farling and Conall had short matches as they would score enough points to win quickly. Even against bigger and supposedly more experienced squires, Farling prevailed. Though he missed his father’s sword, the blunted one he used had a good weight and balanced well in his hand. Even though no one could be seriously hurt, it felt good having a sword in his hand.
Soon, it was the final match and Farling and Conall stared at each other across the arena. Conall’s uncles all watched eagerly.
As the official sounded his whistle, they crossed swords, which quickly became blurs of motion. Conall’s style was based more on brute strength, using his size to quickly wear out his opponents. While Farling was strong, his swordplay was more subdued, as he would parry Conall’s blows and wait for his opportunities. Often, Farling thought he had a chance, but Conall was fast and would dodge out of harm’s way. Soon, they both showed signs of exhaustion and they started gaining points on one another.
“Next point wins,” said Farling. He rubbed his eyes with his free arm as the sweat stung his eyes.
Conall’s hair was slick with sweat, his breathing hard and labored.
“A fine match,” gasped Conall, “but I do aim to win the prize.”
Farling merely grinned as he raised his sword and without warning rushed at Conall screaming the Jordheim war cry. Conall raised his sword, deflected the first blow, but then was too slow on the next, allowing Farling to score the winning and decisive point.
Both stopped and stuck the tips of their swords in the ground, then collapsed to the ground.
“I hope to never fight you again,” said Farling between deep breaths. “Too long and too hard.”
“Agreed,” said Conall as sweat streamed down his face.
The official came over, bent down, grabbed one of Farling’s hands, and raised it as high as it would go. The crowd of squires cheered loudly. Grum and Arastead ran over and helped them both to their feet, congratulating them on a well-fought fight.
Farling gasped: “Grum, I hope you bet wisely.”
“Wisely enough,” said Grum with a wink.
Conall’s uncles walked over and congratulated Farling and Conall.
“If you do not mind,” said Grum to Conall’s uncles, “we would like to take your nephew out to a pub for a bit of a celebration.”
“Fine,” said Airthear, “but just make sure he is okay for the joust tomorrow. I need him at his best.”
“Done,” said Grum as Farling collected the prize and they rushed off.
CHAPTER 22
The Joust Event
On the last day of the King’s Tournament, the sound of the lances smashing on shields was deafening. The rested and pampered horses now thundered down the jousting lanes, their riders tilting their lances at the last moment, striking to unseat the other rider. The crowd cheered at every tilt.
As expected, Airthear was an expert at the joust. His massive size and long reach allowed him to strike his opponents earlier, giving him the advantage. His horse never seemed to tire, able to hold up his large rider and still speed down the grass. Opponents’ lances seemed to simply slide off Airthear’s armor or glance harmlessly off his shield.
It was not until late afternoon that Airthear finally had some competition. Now he was competing against knights with strong horses, and knights who had years of experience at tilting. These knights rattled their lances off Airthear’s shield and armor, scoring points. Still, Airthear persevered and won those hard-fought matches.
And then, suddenly, it was the final match. The sun still shone and the shadows were long. At one end of the joust field was Airthear; at the other, Sir Lagmann, who was of similar size and build to Airthear. Like Airthear, Sir Lagmann had easily bested all his opponents, but now faced someone just as skilled and experienced.
People who watched that match would later say that it was the loudest joust match they had ever seen. The speed at which both horses swept down the field bearing down on the other rider was unparalleled. The lances splintered so violently that shards rained down on the spectators. And while both riders would be rocked back in their saddles, neither was unseated.
It was not until the final tilt, where again neither rider scored a decisive point, that King Frederick rose in the royal pavilion, beside him King Cormac. The trumpeters blew their horns to quiet the crowd. Both Airthear and Sir Lagmann dismounted and stood before their kings, their helmets rested on their hips.
In a commanding voice, Frederick said: “Today, we have witnessed some of the finest joust matches of any King’s Tournament. King Cormac and I have discussed the matter. It is by our decision that this year’s joust match shall end in a draw. Both riders win.”
The crowd exploded in cheers while the bookies grimaced. The official held one hand of each of the jousters above his head.
In an equally loud voice, King Cormac said: “This King’s Tournament has been a wondrous occasion. We have seen the finest matches by the greatest warriors. And, like our new peace accord, this decision to reward both jousters represents that both are equal in greatness. Like this joust, the relationship between our two great countries is forged in friendship and equality.”
The crowd again exploded in cheers. Airthear and Sir Lagmann joined the royals in the pavilion, shaking hands and being congratulated.
“Now what?” asked Farling.
“Tonight’s the feast for the royals, to w
hich we are not invited,” said Grum.
“A shame,” said Arastead, “but I think we have still come out on top after this tournament.”
They chatted for a while with Conall. He mentioned how he was to be leaving for Aarlund in the next few days with the rest of the group.
“I do hope you will come up to Aarlund and visit,” said Conall. “I would like very much to show you the hospitality of Aarlund.”
“We would like that very much as well,” said Farling.
They all shook hands in farewell, then Farling, Grum, and Arastead left for Bringon’s forge. There, they found Bringon in a heated discussion with some very large men. Farling recognized them from the merchants guild.
“What is the problem, Bringon?” asked Farling.
“Oh, hello boys. Nothing to worry you lads about. Upstairs with the three of you. Wife should be able to scare up some food.”
Arastead offered: “We might be able to help.”
“This problem’s bigger than anything you know, and besides, it is not your problem.”
Grum shook his head, said: “We have worked for you, Bringon. You are as a father to us. Tell us what is going on.”
“Fine. I have had some money problems over the years. I was hoping the contract with the Knights Stable would settle my debts. But the coin owed me by Jakobus has not yet been paid. And these fine gentlemen demand payment immediately, else my forge is forfeit.”
Farling exchanged glances with Grum and Arastead. “Well,” said Farling, “if it is coin they want, how much are they demanding?”
One of the guild’s men grunted, said: “More than you can afford.”
Farling defiantly jutted his chin forward: “Try me,” he growled.
Bringon shook his head, said: “Boys, do not worry about this. The wife and I will be fine.”
Now it was Farling’s who shook his head, asked: “How much coin do you owe?”
“Well, I am embarrassed to say it aloud.”
Arastead said: “Just write it down then.”
Bringon pulled out a pen and paper and scribbled a number.
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