‘For the record, Falcio, that particular piece of advice is best delivered in advance of the action in question. Also, he was about to kill you.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘He had his sword out and was aiming it at your neck.’
‘He might have just been trying to make a point,’ I said.
‘Yes, the point being that a man’s head can indeed be separated from his body with a single stroke.’
He was right, of course: the Knight who’d had his sword on me had shown no inclination towards conversation other than to keep repeating ‘Trattari scum’ over and over. In his defence, he’d clearly been standing in the hot sun all morning and looked as if he were baking inside his armour. I hadn’t had time to draw my rapiers so Brasti had made a judgement call. It wasn’t a bad one, except in so far as we were all going to die now. The Knights keeping us penned in were just waiting for the order from their Knight-Captain before they overpowered us.
‘You need to reconsider your next move,’ I warned the Knights in front of us. ‘No one else needs to die today.’
‘Do you Greatcoats always talk this much when you should be fighting?’ Dari asked.
‘Always,’ Brasti and Kest said together.
‘I’m starting to see how the Dukes managed to kill off the King so easily.’ Her voice betrayed no sign of fear. She kept her left hand on Valiana’s arm. I wasn’t sure whether this was to reassure her or to keep her from charging headlong to her death.
I scanned the tabards of the Knights surrounding us. Each bore the silver steer of Aramor on a green field. One of the Knights had three stars above his steer.
‘Knight-Captain!’ I called to him. ‘We came here to meet with Duke Isault in good faith—’
‘What value is a Trattari’s faith?’ he asked from behind a steel helm.
‘Apparently more than a Duke’s, these days,’ Brasti said.
‘You’re not helping.’
The Knights were still edging forward, but why hadn’t they attacked already? I turned towards Kest. ‘What are our chances of winning?’
He looked around at the twenty Knights surrounding us in the courtyard, at the large gate that had been closed behind us, then up at the high interior walls, probably looking for places to climb if we could break out of the circle. ‘No chance whatsoever,’ he said.
‘Really?’ I’d been expecting something bad, but nothing quite so final.
‘Twenty to five, and they’re wearing full armour. We must have caught them on training exercises or during a troop review,’ he said. ‘Possibly there’s a parade later today. Is it a holiday in Aramor?’
‘Perfect,’ Brasti said. ‘We’re about to die and the Saint of Swords is busy trying to figure out if there’s going to be a feast later.’
‘All right, but what if we break through the circle?’ I asked.
‘Look up on the walls,’ Kest said.
I’d been so determined to talk our way in and avoid bloodshed that I hadn’t taken notice of the multitude of men with crossbows hiding in the ramparts. ‘Ah, hells,’ I said.
The Knight-Captain saw my reaction. ‘There is only one way out for you, Trattari. It leads through a river of your own blood. Come and meet the fate you have earned a hundred times over.’
‘You break faith with the laws and traditions of Aramor and dishonour your Duke!’ Valiana shouted, holding her sword out in front of her.
The Knight-Captain laughed. ‘And what would you know of a Duke’s honour, whore?’
‘I—’
‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘She knows nothing of these matters, Sir Knight. Let her and the other woman go. They are merely travellers seeking entry into Aramor and have nothing to do with this.’
‘Then why are they wearing greatcoats?’ the Knight asked.
I heard Dariana snort behind me. ‘Is he always this brilliant a strategist?’
The Knight-Captain laughed again. ‘I’ll leave the first move to you, Trattari.’
I caught Kest’s eye, then Brasti’s and they nodded to me in turn. We all knew what was to come next. Every duellist one day meets his better. The day you begin to learn the sword is the day you start to ready yourself to feel its point driven into your own belly. But Valiana wasn’t a Greatcoat, not to me, anyway. She was an innocent young woman who’d never had the chance to prepare for a death like the one coming for her. She deserved better.
I whispered to Dariana, ‘When the fighting starts, we’ll try to break their circle. When we do, you grab Valiana and the two of you make for the guardhouse next to the gate. There’s only one man there and you can use his door to get around the gate.’
She looked at me with a smirk. ‘Are you trying to save my life or my soul? You think I’m not ready to die fighting these bastards? You think I’m afraid?’
‘Dariana, I think you’re utterly insane. I think you’re eager, if not desperate, to die fighting. But Valiana’s not like us. She’s not—’
‘She may be a pretty little bird but she’s got the heart of a lion, First Cantor. You shame her by treating her like a child.’
‘Fine. She can hate me for it later. For now, do what I’m telling you.’
She looked at me questioningly for just an instant before nodding. Smart. She knew when a fight couldn’t be won.
I turned back to the others.
‘So it’s over then?’ Brasti asked.
‘It’s over,’ I said, and was surprised by the strange calm that came over me. There’s a serenity that comes in knowing you’ve got only one thing left to fight for.
‘Fine,’ Brasti said. ‘If today’s the day then, well, fine. But if I have to die then I’m taking some of these fucking Knights with me.’
‘Which ones should we kill?’ Kest asked. ‘We can take six – no, you’ve got your fast bow, haven’t you? So eight.’
The Knights inched forward again. They were less than ten feet away now. Another step and they’d launch their attack.
‘Excuse me?’ Brasti called out. ‘We have a bit of a dilemma here.’
‘I’d say you do, Trattari,’ said one of the other Knights, laughing.
Brasti ignored him. ‘You see our friend here, the Saint of Swords? He reckons we can kill eight of you before you kill us. Now, I’m sure some of you are perfectly nice people, though why a perfectly nice person would ever choose a career as a Knight I don’t know, but everyone makes mistakes. One time I even—’
‘Get to the point, Brasti,’ I said.
‘Right. Well, if any of you are wife-beaters, child-killers, perhaps murderers of old people, could you just sort of raise a hand or nod? It would make it a lot easier for us.’
‘Brasti, that’s ridi—’
But to my utter amazement, one of the Knights started to raise his hand, just for a moment before he saw his fellows look at him. No one ever said you had to be brilliant to wear armour.
‘Right,’ Brasti said. ‘So which was it? Wife-beating, child-killing? Did you—? Ah, I suppose it doesn’t matter.’ He pulled an arrow and let it loose. It pierced the man’s gorget and he went down, blood spouting from his neck. ‘All right. Who’s next? Anyone mean to animals?’
The Knights roared as one and moved to close the gap between us. I’m not as good as Kest at working out how a battle will go, but I guessed we had just under a minute before we were overwhelmed.
‘Go!’ I screamed to Dari, and turned my attention to our enemies. The key, when there are far, far too many opponents, is to try to get them in each other’s way, and the best way to do that is to move in as close as you can to your enemies – but that means exposing your back to them. Another way is to simply try to get them to want so badly to be the one who kills you that they literally jostle each other out of the way. It’s easier to do than you’d imagine. In fact, we have a song for it.
I pulled out my rapiers. ‘Every Knight I meet is a sickening fool,’ I sang.
Kest chimed in immediately, ‘He’s cowardl
y, vain, he is ugly and cruel—’
‘He’d gladly rape his own mother,’ Brasti harmonised cheerfully.
‘His sister and his brother,’ Kest added.
‘But most days he’ll settle for his own damn mule!’
The Knights barrelled into us, which turned out to be helpful as it made it hard for the crossbowmen on the walls above to hit us. A warsword was coming straight down at me; I lifted the guard of my right rapier, keeping the point down, and let the blow slide along the blade, sparks trailing after it. Another Knight swung his sword in a straight horizontal line so I slipped past the first Knight and let the blow hit him in the belly. Better his armour took the hit than my coat. A quick glimpse showed me that the girls were still with us. I cursed the Saints, but I had no time to do anything about it.
We tried to stay inside the mass of Knights to make it harder for the crossbows to hit us. Our greatcoats can withstand a bolt or two but the impact would be jarring enough to make us lose concentration, and even a moment not focusing gives someone the chance to jab something pointy into us. I glanced up briefly at the crossbowmen above and to my surprise saw they were standing stock-still, restrained by their own Knight-Captain, who had his right arm held high, apparently holding his men back. Something was wrong here. Why was one group of Knights trying to kill us while the other wasn’t?
Brasti was swinging his bow in a wide horizontal arc, keeping the Knights at bay, but the tactic wouldn’t work for long. Kest had already engaged three of the men and I could see two others trying to get behind him. It was over for us. So soon? I thought. I don’t think time slows down when death is coming; I think our minds, realising they have only a few moments left of life, simply work more quickly. Brasti would get two arrows off before he was overcome. Kest would keep his attackers off, only to have crossbow bolts from above pierce his head. Me? Well, there was a tall man holding a very pointy weapon that looked destined to meet my left eye in the very near future.
A horn, loud as a hundred eagles screaming, broke through the chaos.
Most of the Knights pulled back almost instantly – the man thrusting his sword at my face didn’t manage to stop in time, but he was distracted enough that I was able to parry the blow myself.
The horn rang out again, this time three very short bursts, and the Knights withdrew from the fight and formed up in four lines. The two we’d killed before the fight were still on the ground and five more had joined them.
For a brief moment there was silence as the dust slowly began to settle on the courtyard, then a voice broke through. ‘Knight-Captain Heridos, report.’
One of the Knights in the front row took two steps forward, as if he were about to address Kest, Brasti and me.
‘Knight-Commander, sir,’ he said.
I heard footsteps from behind the soldiers and a taller man, bigger than the rest of the Knights, walked towards us, his armour gleaming in the sunlight. His tabard showed the steer of Aramor, but this one had four stars around it. He stopped in front of his Knights and faced us as if to prove that he didn’t need to see his men to know they would follow his commands.
‘Report, I said.’
‘We—’ Brasti began.
I elbowed him. ‘He’s not talking to us.’
‘Sir Shuran, these Trattari attacked us—’
The big Knight, Sir Shuran, still facing us, said, ‘Oh? Was one of them dressed as Sir Kee? Because I do believe I watched from above as Sir Kee tried to sever this man’s head from his body before he’d even drawn a blade.’
‘I told you,’ Brasti whispered.
Heridos shifted uncomfortably. ‘Sir—’
‘What instructions did I leave you with this morning, Knight-Captain Heridos?’
‘Yes, sir, but—’
‘The instructions, Knight-Captain. What were they?’
Captain Heridos’ eyes narrowed, a seething disdain for the Knight-Commander visible in his expression. ‘Sir Shuran, sir, your instructions were to await the arrival of three envoys sent by the Pretender.’
‘And?’
‘Your orders were not to engage the envoys, regardless of provocation.’
Sir Shuran removed his helm. Short-cropped black hair sat atop square-jawed features. He looked to be in his early forties, though it was hard to tell because the left half of his face bore the leather texture and heavy scars of severe burns. ‘I have learned, Knight-Captain Heridos, that responding to provocation can lead to unpleasant results.’
The Knight-Captain hesitated for a moment, then said, ‘But, sir, even after Sir Kee was slain and before we attacked, the bowman slew Sir Retaris. And five more of ours lie dead on the ground.’
Shuran walked over to the corpse of Sir Retaris, the man Brasti had killed. He pushed at the body with the toe of his boot. ‘Which do you suppose it was?’ he asked.
‘Sir?’
‘Wife-beater, child-slayer, or murderer of old people – which one do you think he was agreeing to?’
I was starting to like Sir Shuran. Then I reminded myself that he was a Knight and the problem went away. ‘Sir Shuran, my name is Falcio val—’
He held up a gauntleted hand. ‘A moment, please. I am not quite done with my men. Knight-Captain Heridos, you allowed Sir Kee to attack the men I specifically instructed you not to engage. You then surrounded them and made it clear you intended to capture or kill them.’ The big Knight shielded his eyes against the sun and looked up at the ramparts. ‘You will take note that Sir Nemeth kept his own men on the ramparts in check as instructed. Finally, I feel I must point out that, with twenty of the finest Knights in Aramor, you succeeded in killing precisely zero of your chosen enemies while they have taken the lives of eight of my men.’
‘Sir?’ the Knight-Captain asked.
‘Yes?’
‘They only killed seven of ours.’
Sir Shuran left the corpse and took a position in front of the Knight-Captain. ‘Thank you for reminding me. Kneel and remove your helm, Sir Heridos.’
The Knight-Captain looked from left to right for a moment, as if hoping someone would speak up for him. Then he knelt and removed his helm, revealing long blond hair and a youthful face.
Sir Shuran pulled out his sword. It was a simple thing, without any ornate elements or inscription on the blade. But I noted that it was exactly the right length for a man of Sir Shuran’s height, of whom there couldn’t be many, and broader than a normal sword, as if it were weighted for someone of his obvious strength. This was a custom blade, well made and expensive, despite its simple appearance. This man placed a high value on his weapon but hadn’t the vanity to have it decorated.
Sir Shuran took the sword in both hands and held it above the Knight-Captain’s neck. ‘Are you prepared, Captain Heridos?’
‘Yes, Knight-Commander.’
‘Do you require a moment to give prayer to your gods or instructions to your men on any disposition of personal items to your loved ones?’
‘No, Knight-Commander. I am ready to die.’
‘Here, in the dust of the courtyard? For no better reason than I require it?’
‘Yes, Knight-Commander.’
‘Very well,’ Sir Shuran said. ‘Foolishness has cost you your life, Knight-Captain. It’s only fitting that obedience should buy it back.’ He replaced the blade in the sheath at his left hip. ‘Remain where you are until the sun has set and risen again.’ He left the man kneeling there and walked over to me. ‘I am Sir Shuran, Knight-Commander of Aramor and loyal servant to Isault, Duke of Aramor.’ He removed his gauntlet and extended his right hand to me.
I stood there like a statue for a full minute. I have met more than a hundred Knights in my time. Not one has ever asked to shake my hand, or that of any Greatcoat.
‘Falcio val Mond,’ I said, taking his hand at last and shaking it awkwardly. ‘First Cantor of the King’s Greatcoats.’
‘Forgive me for saying this, but how are you the “King’s Greatcoats” when the man himself is de
ad?’
‘It’s mostly an honorary sort of thing,’ Brasti said. He extended his hand gleefully, waiting for the Knight to refuse it. ‘Brasti Goodbow.’
To his surprise, Sir Shuran shook his hand as well. The big Knight looked past me and said, ‘Ladies, I apologise for the discourtesy of my men.’
I turned and saw Dari and Valiana standing behind me. ‘Door was locked,’ Dari said.
‘And you,’ Sir Shuran said, turning to Kest. ‘Am I correct in saying that you are the Greatcoat known as Kest Murrowson?’
‘I am,’ he said.
‘There is a story going around that you claim to be the greatest swordsman in the world.’
‘I find I rarely have to claim it,’ Kest said.
‘He’s a Saint,’ Brasti said. ‘Just not the Saint of Humility.’
Sir Shuran smiled. ‘I wonder, sir, if you might favour me with a bout, should we have the time?’
Kest looked over the Knight appraisingly, then he looked past him at the man’s footprints on the ground. ‘You have a heavy left-footed stance,’ he said, ‘keeping your right side to your opponent, perhaps to shield the burned side of your face from attack?’
‘Perhaps,’ Sir Shuran replied.
‘Or is it because your left eye is somewhat damaged and you don’t see as well as you need to?’
The Knight smiled. ‘That, too, is a possibility.’
‘You’d last ten strikes with me. Perhaps twelve if the sun were in my eyes.’
‘Well then, not much point in a bout if you have it all—’
‘I do.’
‘Still though, if we get the chance, I’d like to find out first-hand. Can you defeat me without actually killing me?’
Kest thought about that. ‘Fourteen strikes.’
‘Sir Shuran,’ I said, ‘I realise that the idea of being beaten half to death by Kest might be highly diverting to some people but we—’
‘Forgive me, you’re correct,’ he said. ‘I’m a competitive man at heart. But that’s not why you’re here. Let me take you to the Duke. He’s eager to meet you.’
Knight's Shadow Page 9