The First Blade Of Ostia

by Duncan M. Hamilton

  His duel was second on the bill, so he had the opportunity to watch one match to get a feel for how things worked in the provinces and inject some energy into his mind and limbs. The crowd was far more vocal than in even the most raucous backstreet arenas in Ostenheim. The arena in Lowgarden that Amero had fought in was like a graveyard by comparison. How the duellists managed to maintain their concentration was anyone’s guess.

  The standard of fencing left nothing to be desired. The duellists were competent and wouldn’t have disgraced themselves in the arenas of Ostenheim. The condescension city duellists held their rural brethren in was entirely undeserved and reflected badly on the city swordsmen, highlighting their arrogance. Bryn had to admit he’d been guilty of it, but wouldn’t be any longer.

  Any hopes that Bryn might have entertained about having an easy evening’s work were scotched by the display. Although Bryn understood there were more non-Bannerets on the regional circuit, both of the men now duelling had been to the Academy. It was clear that the choice to duel on the provincial circuit was dictated by reasons other than a want of ability. He felt foolish for thinking that he was going to be bringing a taste of city sophistication to the proceedings, and hoped the evening wouldn’t end in humiliation.

  The enthusiasm of the crowd had already set him ill at ease, but his nerves were positively rattled by the reaction of the audience to the announcement of his duel. Bryn had known that his opponent was a local man and that this meant the crowd would likely be hostile to him. He had harboured the faint hope that his opponent was one of those duellists that attracted the loving hatred of the crowd, but that certainly was not the case.

  Bryn’s opponent appeared to be the darling of the Tanosa audience. When his name, Chalmo Capani, was announced, they became hysterical. Bryn’s heart sank and he walked from the warm-up area toward the arena feeling as though his boots had been filled with lead.

  Capani was three years ahead of Bryn at the Academy. He had been duelling on the provincial circuit ever since and appeared to be something of a rising star, not to mention a crowd favourite.

  Bryn paused and took a deep breath before stepping out onto the arena floor. As soon as he did, a stream of vitriol hit him with such force it felt as though it were actually physical rather than simply sentiment. He gritted his teeth to steady his nerve and concentrated on maintaining as blank an expression as possible. The only benefit of attracting so much hostile attention was that its full weight blotted out any of the individual catcalls and insults.

  Bryn faced Capani across the black line, with the Master of Arms standing between them. His voice was barely audible over the noise from the crowd as he outlined the rules—a standard list that both duellists knew by heart. The formality was required nonetheless.

  Capani looked loose and confident. Bryn didn’t feel that way. He tried to forget everything he might remember about his opponent, which was little anyway. Much could have changed since Bryn last saw him fence at the Academy. He needed to take the match as he found it, and be prepared for anything. The atmosphere generated by the crowd felt as though it was closing in around him, like great walls that were getting ever tighter. He tried to blot out the noise, to focus only on the sound of his breath and the sight of his opponent.

  ‘Duel.’ The Master of Arms’s voice cut through the oppressive noise and all of the other distractions.

  His opponent lunged forward, and for Bryn everything else ceased to exist.

  * * *

  THE CARRIAGE DIDN’T FEEL NEARLY so cramped on the way home to Ostenheim. That had something to do with the pleasant flush of victory and the purse of silver coins inside his doublet. The victory meant two things. First and by far the most important, he would be able to satisfy the imminent payment required on his family’s loans. Secondly, he was taking home five Ladder points, and the knowledge that he had taken an important step forward in his career.

  They would be enough to facilitate his jump up the Ladder, probably onto the next page—perhaps even higher. While winning was the primary goal of every match in the arena, the margin by which one was victorious was important for the effect it had on the Ladder ranking. A victory by three touches to two would earn the winner one point toward his Ladder ranking. A victory by a three to one margin would earn two points, while a win without conceding a touch granted five.

  With five points to be added to his ranking, he found it difficult to think of Tanosa with anything other than affection, in spite of the hostility with which he had been received. Indeed, as the duel had gone on the crowd started to show their appreciation of his skill and effort, the sign of true fans.

  He relaxed back into his corner of the cramped carriage, feeling an enormous sense of satisfaction. He closed his eyes and let his mind run over the numbers, but he couldn’t escape the feeling of guilt at not having called to see his sister, Lena. It was unlikely he could get away with it. His name would be listed in the newssheets that reported the duelling results, and perhaps also by the town criers. His focus on career was time and time again causing him to neglect his family.

  * * *

  THE FIRST THING that Bryn did when he got back to Ostenheim was call to see his family. He knew that his mother was proud and wouldn’t accept the money from him. She would be mortified to find out that he even knew of the difficulty they were in. When he had the chance, he took his sister aside and gave it to her.

  Once that was done there was little left over and he was essentially back in the position he had been before rushing out to Tanosa; broke and looking for another duel. He hoped that having the extra points would stand in his favour and something would come along soon. It was an unpleasant feeling, like waiting for divine intervention to sweep in and solve his problems.

  CHAPTER 17

  Each year, as the summer cooled into autumn and green faded to yellow then golden-brown, the great and the wealthy of Ostia flocked back from their country estates to Ostenheim to spend the winter months in the city. Where there were aristocrats there was also society, and the finer aspects of the city came to life with their return. The theatres and opera houses began to show new works and the wealthier parts of the city were filled once more with the sounds of music and revelry. Aristocratic families held balls, each trying to outdo the others in terms of extravagance and luxury.

  Bryn didn’t like being thought of as part of anyone’s retinue, and everything he had done in recent weeks had been intended to prevent that. He couldn’t deny that it had been the de facto situation ever since he and Amero had established their friendship in the first few weeks at the Academy, but there was a difference between being a supporter of a powerful aristocrat and being his retainer. He wanted to be thought of as his own man, but despite his distaste at the concept there were some benefits to close association with the son of an elector count. One of those was access to the more enjoyable aspects of fine society.

  Bryn was never directly invited to any of these events; his anonymous presence was merely accepted as part of the invitation given to Amero. This was not unusual however; few aristocrats attended without a group of their friends or supporters.

  Balls would never lose their novelty for Bryn. The music was the part he enjoyed the most, as he never got the opportunity to hear it otherwise. Full orchestras were not uncommon if the house was large enough, as was the case with the first ball of the season that Amero asked him along to. The food and drink were always excellent—a welcome change to tavern food or his attempts at cooking—and there was always plenty of both.

  He would usually have looked forward to a ball without reservation, but he felt a sense of dread that evening as he walked to Oldtown to meet Amero. The last few occasions they had socialised had been unpleasant experiences, and Bryn could not put from his mind what Amero had done to Thadeo dal Strenna. Leaving the Academy was a big upheaval, and Bryn realised Amero was dealing with the strain of carrying his family name into the arena, but there was only so much latitude that could buy h
im. A duel was a duel, and people got cut badly—but Bryn knew Amero had intended to cause that injury, even if the others did not realise it. It was time for Amero to settle into his new life or consider an alternative. Bryn tried not to dwell on it further in the hope of enjoying the evening.

  * * *

  BRYN COULDN’T HELP but notice that the composition of Amero’s party had changed since their Academy days. Back then, when he had a ball to attend, he would usually bring along whoever was in their house’s common room and free to go. Now, however, Bryn hardly knew any of them. They were all aristocrats, and from their family names Bryn recognised them all as being from families that were in some way allied to the House of Moreno. These were the young men who would, in the future, provide Amero with his base of support when the considerations of duty and politics caught up with him and he took his family’s seat in the Barons’ Hall.

  They had arrived fashionably late, so there had not been any time to make small talk with the other ball-goers until after the meal was finished. Amero seemed to be in genuinely good form, with no hint of trouble lurking beneath the surface. Bryn’s relief was enormous, and it shocked him just how tense he had grown on the walk down to Oldtown. Perhaps the couple of rest days while he and Bautisto were in Tanosa had done Amero good.

  Bryn was content to sit and listen to the orchestra, but there were social conventions that he couldn’t avoid, and one of those required him to wander about with Amero, chatting with others. There were many there that Bryn knew from the Academy, some of whom he had not seen in the months since he had left.

  One of the other attractions of the balls was the fact that they were also attended by many of the city’s single young women. Amero drew quite a bit of attention; with his wealth and position he was one of the most eligible bachelors in the Duchy. Bryn was hopeful that as a Banneret of the Blue he made for an attractive prospect himself.

  He was chatting to someone that he had been in the Academy with while Amero talked to a group behind him. When he turned, he was taken aback to see a familiar face.

  ‘Ah, Bryn,’ Amero said. ‘This is Lady Joranna dal Verrara; my lady, this is Banneret of the Blue Bryn Pendollo.’

  Bryn nodded his head in deference to her. She was not just familiar; her face had been burned onto his mind since he had first seen her, that day on the bridge.

  She looked at him curiously for a moment before her eyes widened and she smiled slightly. ‘Why, I believe that the banneret and I have already met.’ She bowed her head in response to him.

  ‘Really?’ Amero said.

  ‘Ah, yes,’ Bryn said, feigning that he had only now realised who she was. ‘I believe it was on the Blackwater Bridge, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, it was,’ Joranna said. She turned to Amero. ‘The bridge had been damaged by a barge during the night and the City Watch were restricting the number of people who could cross. Banneret Pendollo was kind enough to give up his place in the queue so that my maid and I could cross at the same time.’

  ‘Banneret Pendollo has always been the consummate gentleman,’ Amero said, giving Bryn a sideways glance and a mischievous smile. ‘He won the sword of honour at the Academy too. And again in the Collegium. That was shortly after he had represented Ostia in the Competition.’

  Bryn blushed, and Amero’s smile widened.

  Joranna raised an eyebrow as she turned her attention back to Bryn. ‘I only hope that it didn’t cause you any delay.’

  ‘Oh, no, it was no trouble at all.’

  Amero snorted in amused disbelief. ‘No trouble? Our maestro gave us the grilling of a lifetime after Bryn turned up late for training. I could hardly walk the next day.’

  ‘Training?’ said Joranna.

  ‘Yes. Bryn and I are competing in the arena. I’m surprised you hadn’t heard I was doing it; it seems pretty much everyone else has.’

  ‘Now that you mention it, I think I did hear something about it. You thrashed some fellow in Lowgarden not so long ago?’

  Bryn felt himself tense—this was dangerous ground—and breathed a sigh of relief that she had put it in better terms than dal Strenna or any of the others had. He really didn’t want to have to deal with Amero in another foul mood.

  ‘Indeed I did,’ Amero said, with cavalier charm.

  Joranna smiled tactfully. ‘Well, perhaps I shall talk to you again later.’ She held Bryn’s gaze for a moment longer before leaving them.

  Bryn and Amero walked toward a group of bannerets—classmates of theirs when at the Academy—who were standing next to the table from which drinks were dispensed.

  ‘Not bad looking, is she,’ Amero said.

  ‘No, not at all bad.’

  ‘Very chivalrous of you to let her cross the bridge like that.’

  Bryn knew when he was being baited. ‘Oh, piss off.’

  Amero burst into laughter. ‘She’s not the best catch, I’m afraid. Her family don’t have a penny. A mouldering old mansion on the edge of Moreno and a few acres that aren’t much better than swamp. Still, there are titles to be had if you’re willing to earn the coin, I suppose. She’ll be looking to attach herself to a good prospect. Not sure I’d advise an advance in that direction though.’

  Bryn watched her as she moved between groups on the other side of the room. She was utterly exquisite; graceful and elegant with thick curls of blonde hair perfectly shaped around her head. ‘Perhaps,’ he said, absently.

  Amero watched Bryn’s eyes follow her across the room. ‘Don’t want to rain on your parade or anything, but seriously, I wouldn’t get too caught up in her if I were you.’

  ‘Why?’ Bryn said sharply, returning his focus to Amero. ‘Is there something wrong with her?’

  Amero laughed. ‘No, nothing like that. I know where you’re coming from, Bryn, and I haven’t seen you look at a girl the way you look at her before.’

  ‘Just looking is all,’ Bryn said.

  ‘Yes, and just going all dreamy eyed while you’re at it too,’ Amero said. ‘If you’re going to set your sights on someone, go for the daughter of a burgess, or grand burgess if you can hook one. Plenty of money, and being a Banneret’ll carry more weight. I know girls like Joranna. You’ll be far happier if you take my advice. She’s a shark, that one. Titles and no money is always a dangerous combination if you’re looking for more than a bit of mischief.’

  ‘I’m never averse to a bit of mischief,’ Bryn said, casting his gaze back across the ballroom to where Joranna stood with a group of ladies. He felt indignant at Amero’s crudely veiled suggestion that he was setting his sights too high, and wanted her all the more for it.

  CHAPTER 18

  Amero ran an oily cloth along the length of his rapier blade. The arena was all but empty and he was alone in the Bannerets’ Enclosure. He liked the peaceful atmosphere; so different to the emotionally charged one that had prevailed a short time before. He checked the mirror finish of the blade’s surface in the light to make sure there were no droplets of sweat or blood remaining, anything that could cause the blade to rust while in storage until his next duel.

  A lower ranked opponent usually followed a match with a higher ranked one, which was what he had faced that evening. He smiled as he thought of the five points he had just won. It was another step toward silencing the whispers and gossip. He was not just the Hammer’s son, and he was going to prove that to anyone who thought to the contrary.

  ‘You’re going to continue with this farce?’

  The smile dropped from Amero’s face. ‘Looks that way.’ He did not look up from his sword case.

  ‘I watched, you know,’ Renald said.

  ‘That must have been painful.’ Amero snapped the catches on the case shut.

  ‘Yes and no. I think you’re above this prancing about to entertain the masses, but you do have form. You made that other fellow look like a donkey.’

  Amero raised his eyebrows. It was the closest thing to a compliment his father had ever paid him.

  ‘It�
��s form that would be put to better use in a regiment, though.’

  ‘Now we come to the core of it,’ Amero said, not to anyone in particular.

  ‘I wanted to try and make you see sense one more time,’ Renald said. ‘The grandson of a Duke should not be making a spectacle of himself in the arena.’

  ‘Yes, slaughtering peasants by the thousand in the southern passes is a far better use of one’s time,’ Amero said.

  ‘I’ve said what I came to say,’ Renald said. ‘It’s not the time or place to say more. Think on it. I’ve asked, and I won’t do that again. Rest assured, this isn’t the end of it.’

  * * *

  BRYN HAD TRAINED ALONE with Bautisto that day. Amero had fought another match the day before so had taken a day’s rest. With the winter social season moving into full swing, Amero had another ball to attend and as usual asked Bryn to go along. It was in one of the mansions of Highgarden so Bryn had to rush back to his apartment to wash and change after training. They agreed to meet at the venue at eight bells, knowing it was unlikely he would be able to call down to the apartment in Oldtown early enough.

  As usual he wore his dark blue Academy doublet. Without a military commission and the uniform to go with it, it was the only thing that he had which marked him out as being a member of the finer classes. He knew it was time to get something more suitable now that he was no longer a student, but there were more important things that needed the money.

  He found himself unusually excited by the prospect of the ball, and it was not the music that was causing it. He did not like to get too caught up in anyone or anything, but he could not help but hope that Joranna dal Verrara would be there. He remembered Amero’s words of warning, but found himself unable to give them any credence.

  The chime for eight bells rang out from the cathedral’s campanile over on the far side of Crossways, the time he had arranged to meet Amero. He cursed and hastened the speed at which he was buttoning up his doublet. He charged out of his apartment and down the stairs two at a time, trying not to get his sword tangled between his legs. He burst out onto the street and abruptly slowed to a normal walk. It wasn’t the done thing for a banneret to be seen running through the streets.