The Knight: A Tale from the High Kingdom

by Pierre Pevel

  ‘No.’

  ‘He told me that the sufferings and misfortunes inflicted upon us in this world did not matter at all. All that mattered was the salvation of my eternal soul.’

  Lorn fell silent.

  ‘And … so?’ Father Eldrim asked hesitantly.

  ‘Take care of their souls,’ Lorn said, indicating the crowd with his chin. And turning to the priest, he lowered his spectacles slightly so that the other man could not fail to see the icy fire blazing in Lorn’s mismatched eyes. ‘Take care of their souls, and leave the rest.’

  With Lorn at their head, the Onyx Guards escorted Cadfeld to the Black Tower, where it was agreed the bookseller would complete his convalescence. They installed him in an old shed they had fixed up and which Daril had furnished and prepared as best he could. There was a bed, a table, a chair, some books and a roof over four walls. It wasn’t much but Cadfeld could not hide his emotion when he entered.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said in a choked voice.

  ‘You’re at home here,’ replied Lorn, as Dwain helped the old man stretch out on the bed. ‘Naturally, you’re free to go wherever you like, but I advise you against leaving the Black Tower. It wouldn’t be prudent.’

  Cadfeld grimaced in pain as he sat up while Daril slipped two pillows behind his back.

  ‘Believe me, knight, I’m in no hurry to face Andara’s men again. And I promise you I’ll resist the temptation to twirl about at the top of your scaffolding …’

  Lorn smiled.

  ‘I was going to forbid precisely that,’ he said, standing back to allow Dwain to leave.

  He thanked him with a nod.

  ‘A useless precaution,’ Cadfeld remarked ironically. ‘All you needed to do was take away my crutches …’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Lorn in all seriousness. ‘Daril, take Sir Cadfeld’s crutches and don’t give them back until I give the order.’

  Dumbfounded, the boy turned towards Lorn with wide eyes.

  ‘Really, my lord?’

  After a moment of silence the two men burst out laughing at the same time. Embarrassed but good-natured, Daril realised he’d been the butt of their joke and smiled.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said.

  ‘Off with you,’ Lorn said affectionately. ‘But come by regularly to see if anything’s needed here, understood?’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  ‘I thank you.’

  ‘You’ll soon be on your feet,’ Lorn promised the bookseller. ‘And then I can tell Daril to take away your crutches without you missing them.’

  ‘I hope so …’ said Cadfeld.

  But it was clear that he did not believe he would recover any time soon, or completely. Lorn could see that and chose not to insult his intelligence by insisting otherwise.

  ‘Those crossed swords on the dispensary door,’ said Cadfeld. ‘Do you really believe that’s a good idea?’

  ‘It will be when more painted swords appear on other doors.’

  ‘If that ever happens.’

  Lorn shrugged.

  ‘We’ll see. But I believe the people of Redstone are weary of the militia’s violent methods. With those crossed swords, I am giving them a way to say just that, without exposing themselves too much.’

  ‘As far as Andara is concerned, it’s a declaration of war.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You have six men under your command, knight. Andara has six times as many. At least.’

  ‘Yes, but I have this,’ retorted Lorn, displaying his signet ring. ‘And I have this tower and everything it represents.’ He smiled, sure of himself. ‘Besides, I doubt that Andara’s men will stand up to mine. Even at odds of six to one.’

  Lorn saw a shadow pass over Cadfeld’s face.

  ‘What is it?’

  The old man hesitated.

  ‘I … I’m not sure. But I think there is something you should know about Andara …’

  That evening, Andara remained awake.

  The day’s events had taken him aback. He knew that people would come out to support Cadfeld when he left the dispensary. Thanks to his informers, he’d also known that the Onyx Guards would be waiting for the bookseller to escort him and had therefore suspected that Lorn would use the occasion to put on a bold face. But he hadn’t foreseen the business of the painted swords and was forced to recognise the idea was a good one, in particular now that bloody priest had clearly shown himself to be on the First Knight’s side. That was going to give some people courage and a desire to rebel, no doubt about it …

  Nevertheless, Andara wasn’t worried. Annoyed? Perhaps. And furious at having been publicly defied by Lorn, of course. But he held a trump card which he had not yet played and, upon reflection, it wasn’t such a bad thing if Lorn believed he was calling the tune. The killing blow that Andara would deliver when the moment came would be all the more formidable. He just had to wait for the right opportunity. Until then, he only needed to mete out a few punishments to dissuade people in the district from painting swords upon their doors. Lorn believed in symbols. Andara believed in brutality and fear.

  Since he had an hour to kill that evening, Andara agreed to receive the young woman who presented herself at the inn where he had established his headquarters, and where he and his men relaxed and conducted their affairs. It was the wife of Redstone’s public scribe. And business was poor at the moment. The couple needed money and she had come to beg Andara for a loan her husband was too proud to ask for. Andara in fact made considerable profits from his moneylending and pawnbroking activities. Since the scribe’s wife was as pretty as she was shy and docile, he would derive pleasure from giving her the money she needed and content himself, this time, with coming in her mouth, despite her tears.

  The young woman was still on her knees sobbing when Andara left her and went out of the inn. He smiled, his vanity swollen by having humiliated and subjected another ‘conquest’ to his will – and like the others, she would have to come back to pay off the interest. Lorn could never allow himself to do such a thing, nor could anyone else in Redstone. The militia chief alone enjoyed that power and as long as that remained the case, he had no cause for worry. The rest was merely speeches and handwaving.

  Midnight was chiming when Andara arrived at his meeting place, a small public garden left neglected. He was punctual, but his contact was already there.

  ‘I don’t have much time,’ said Eriad, stepping out of the shadows.

  14

  Two days later, in the morning, Father Eldrim appeared at the gate of the Black Tower and wanted to speak to Lorn in private.

  ‘What’s happened, father?’ asked Lorn.

  ‘It’s a rather delicate matter, knight. I need your help, but your discretion, with regard to certain aspects, would also be indispensable.’

  ‘Very well.’

  ‘Then meet me at the dispensary in an hour, if you will.’

  ‘You can’t tell me anything more?’

  ‘I cannot tell you anything I learned through confession. I can only encourage the one who spoke to me to confide in others, if they can be of more help than I can.’

  Lorn nodded.

  ‘I’ll be there in an hour, father.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  An hour later, in a garden at the dispensary, Lorn found himself in the presence of Father Eldrim and the tearful young woman he was trying to comfort. Lorn did not know who she was and doubted he’d ever met her before. She was quite young and rather pretty, modestly dressed. More curled up than sitting, she was trying to contain her tears, her eyes reddened and her features haggard from worry.

  Lorn sat facing her, took off his spectacles, leaned forward, and said:

  ‘Talk to me.’

  The young woman addressed a silent question to Father Eldrim who, with a sympathetic smile, urged her to speak.

  ‘It’s … It’s my husband … He’s … disappeared.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Since … We had an argument, yesterday evening … He le
ft and … and he hasn’t come back.’

  She burst into sobs.

  Lorn stood up and shot a stern glance at the priest. Had his help been enlisted merely to find a husband who stayed out all night after a domestic dispute?

  ‘Perhaps you should explain from the beginning,’ said Father Eldrim to the young woman. ‘Start by telling him who you are and who your husband is …’

  She nodded and pulled herself together.

  ‘Yes, pardon me … My … My name is Mahaut. Mahaut Veren. I am the wife of Loah Veren.’

  ‘Veren,’ said Lorn. ‘The public scribe?’

  ‘Yes. That’s him.’

  Lorn recalled the young man in the tavern, who had been talking with others over a drink when Cadfeld had joined them.

  ‘I don’t know him personally,’ said Lorn. ‘But I’ve already run into him. I know who he is.’

  The priest took the young woman’s hands in his and murmured to her:

  ‘You can tell the knight everything, Mahaut. Everything. I vouch for him. Besides, he can help you.’

  Mahaut then explained how the small amount her husband earned did not permit them to make ends meet and, their debts mounting, how she had resolved to go ask Andara for a loan. Of course, she had done so in secret. Firstly, because Veren had too much honour and pride to owe money to such a hateful being. And secondly because Mahaut knew what the leader of the militia would demand of her. She’d been right about that, but at least she had brought back the money needed to meet their most pressing bills.

  ‘I … I thought I did the right thing … We needed that money, you understand? Really needed it!’

  Lorn nodded.

  ‘But your husband found out?’

  ‘Yes. He learned that I’d paid some of our debts and he wanted to know how. I … I couldn’t lie to him. I begged him to forgive me but he became enraged. He … He insulted me. I even thought he was going to beat me, but he left instead. That was last night. And since then …’

  Lorn had heard quite enough.

  But noticing a bruise on the young woman’s cheekbone, he asked:

  ‘Who did this to you, then?’

  ‘Andara. I know that Loah went to see him last night. I’m sure of it. So …’

  ‘So you went back to see that brute?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Mahaut broke into tears again.

  Upon returning to the Black Tower, Lorn assembled his men and explained the matter to them. Out of respect to Mahaut, he did not mention the favours that Andara had demanded of her, but no one was taken in.

  ‘Vahrd, Dwain and Yeras, go and ask around quietly in the neighbourhood. Try to find out what Veren did after leaving his wife and if he was mad enough to confront Andara … The rest of you, stand ready: you never know.’

  An hour later, Vahrd returned with a version of the facts which Dwain and Yeras later confirmed, give or take a few minor details. Andara and his men were so sure of their impunity that they hardly sought to conceal their misdeeds. But the Onyx Guards – and Vahrd more particularly – now enjoyed a certain amount of respect in Redstone. Tongues had loosened. As long as their anonymity was assured, witnesses had spoken up, only too happy to have someone to turn to.

  ‘Veren started by drinking,’ explained Vahrd. ‘And then he went to knock on the shutters of the Broken Sword in the middle of the night. Dead drunk. Shouting insults at Andara at the top of his lungs. So he woke up the entire street and everyone saw what happened next …’

  Lorn feared the worst. The Broken Sword served as the Redstone militia’s headquarters.

  ‘Andara did not show his face,’ continued Vahrd. ‘Maybe he was at home, that late at night. But five or six of his men came out. According to those who witnessed the scene, at first they just wanted to chase Veren away and pushed him into the mud. But he got back up and managed to land a punch on one of them. And that set them off …’

  Vahrd paused to drink a gulp of wine and Lorn gave him a questioning look.

  ‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘Beaten to death. I even know where the body is …’

  The militiamen had their habits, which included getting rid of cumbersome dead bodies in a waste ground at the edge of Redstone. The spot was so well known that, sooner or later, anyone missing a person close to them, and who had troubles with the militia, went to look there.

  The Onyx Guards, who had come out in full strength, searched the site and soon found Veren’s body in a muddy ditch. They dragged him out with some difficulty. The scribe was almost unrecognisable and, seeing Father Eldrim arriving with Mahaut, Lorn ordered that a cloth be laid over his ruined face.

  The young woman emitted a harrowing cry upon seeing the body of her husband. Rushing over, she embraced it and moaned:

  ‘Forgive … Forgive me … I didn’t want to … Forgive me …’

  The guards tried to remain grave and impassive, but Mahaut’s pain gripped them. They waited, not knowing what to do. It was finally Father Eldrim who took the young woman by the shoulders and found the words to make her relinquish her husband’s corpse.

  Vahrd sighed.

  ‘And now, Lorn? What do we—?’

  But Lorn was no longer there.

  ‘Lorn?’

  Already some distance away, he was walking briskly towards a group of militiamen who were watching the scene with mocking expressions on their faces. There were four of them and they realised too late the danger Lorn represented.

  ‘Does this amuse you?’

  He did not even give them time to reply.

  He struck down one with a headbutt right in the face, broke the front teeth of the second with an elbow blow and doubled the third over with a vicious thrust of his knee. The fourth brought his hand to his short sword but Lorn stopped him.

  ‘You draw that and you die.’

  The militiaman’s hand froze and his face paled, seeing the Onyx Guards hastening to join their captain.

  ‘Go and find Andara,’ Lorn said to him in an icy voice. ‘Go and find Andara and tell him that …’ He hesitated, sighed, and then said: ‘Shit. Tell him this.’

  Grasping the militiaman by the collar with one hand, Lorn sent the fist of the other crashing into his face, stunning him, followed by one, two, three more blows that broke his nose and caused blood to spurt forth. Vahrd had to grab hold of the knight to prevent him from killing the man with his bare hands.

  That same evening, at the Black Tower, Lorn spoke to Vahrd behind closed doors for an hour before asking Dwain to gather the others. He spoke to them on the ground floor of the keep, beneath the timbers and the floors under repair inside the almost emptied building.

  ‘I’ve decided we’ll attack tonight. Andara will want to avenge his men and save face. I don’t want to give him the time to do so.’

  All eyes turned towards Vahrd who, standing back, held his peace but clearly disapproved of this decision.

  ‘If we must act tonight,’ said Yeras, ‘that doesn’t leave us much time.’

  Indeed, night was already falling.

  ‘I know. But we’ll benefit from the element of surprise.’

  The former scout seemed scarcely convinced but kept silent. He had once almost lost his life in a poorly prepared operation.

  ‘We still need to pick a target,’ said Vahrd.

  Lorn nodded.

  ‘We have a choice,’ he said. ‘First, we could attack the Broken Sword.’

  ‘The militia’s headquarters?’ remarked Logan. ‘Risky.’

  ‘But it would make an impression,’ said Yeras.

  ‘On both the militiamen, and the population,’ Lorn added.

  ‘We’d run into strong resistance,’ said Liam. ‘Too strong, no doubt.’

  Eriad nodded his head in agreement with this.

  ‘Say we take the inn by force,’ said Vahrd. ‘What then? Do we set fire to the place? Kill everyone inside?’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind splitting the skulls of some of these scum,’ said Dwain.

  ‘
We’re not at war,’ objected the blacksmith. ‘Redstone district isn’t the border region of Valmir and the Broken Sword isn’t some Gheltish outpost.’

  The argument hit home and a thoughtful silence settled within the keep.

  ‘Then we could go after Andara alone,’ said Lorn after a moment.

  The Onyx Guards listened closely.

  ‘Cadfeld told me about a house that Andara possesses,’ explained Lorn. ‘Officially, it belongs to a front man, but it’s actually where Andara lives. It’s surrounded by a large garden and protected by a wall. It’s hidden by trees.’

  ‘That would be perfect,’ noted Yeras. ‘No one to see us or hear us.’

  ‘And who knows what we would find inside!’ said Logan. ‘That must be where Andara hides his loot.’

  ‘At any rate, we’ll find Andara there,’ said Dwain, balling his fists.

  ‘And only a few sentries, if we’re lucky,’ said Liam.

  ‘That’s what Cadfeld said,’ indicated Lorn.

  He looked at his men, who all seemed in agreement. Only Vahrd remained outside his field of vision and he refrained from looking back at him.

  ‘So it’s decided,’ he decreed. ‘We attack Andara’s house tonight. But to avoid any nasty surprises, one of you will have to go and keep watch on the place now, while the others make ready. A volunteer?’

  Yeras wanted to step forward but Eriad beat him to it.

  ‘Me.’

  Lorn hesitated briefly. He appeared to think about it, and then said:

  ‘All right. But don’t let yourself be seen. If Andara or one of his men spots you, they’ll know something’s up and—’

  ‘I’ll stay under cover,’ the young man promised.

  Surprised at having been rejected, Yeras remained quiet and aimed a questioning look at Vahrd. The blacksmith made no reply, while Lorn gave Liam a slight nod of the head instructing him to bring the meeting to a close.