by Tanya Bird
Aldara had once discovered Kadmus practicing when he thought nobody was around. He was using large sticks in place of flags. She had watched through the trees as his large, heavy horse struggled with the tight turns. When she had asked him if he was planning to compete, he had laughed at her. ‘Against princes and knights? What do you think?’
‘Loda could do it. And she could probably win,’ she had replied.
‘And who would ride her? Women do not compete. It is a sport for men, a sport of speed and agility. Your skirt would slow you down,’ he teased.
‘Women would have an advantage with less weight,’ she said, ignoring his insult.
Strength was irrelevant, so she failed to understand why any good rider could not compete. She had even offered to race him.
‘Absolutely not,’ he had laughed again. ‘I couldn’t take the embarrassment of losing to you.’ He had wrapped his arm around her neck then and squeezed her like a child.
The Companions were excited about the event for different reasons. For some it was a trip outside the castle walls; for others it was a chance to glimpse their families from a distance. A few were looking forward to masked encounters with guests. Figuring out identities was part of the fun. Hali was looking forward to the dresses, which were always extravagant and almost costume like. Aldara knew there was a good chance Kadmus would attend in the hopes of seeing her. It was her only motivation outside of obligation.
On the day of the event the women travelled in two concealed wagons not too dissimilar from the royal ones. The wagons were trimmed with vibrant red fabric and silver fringe. The horses were matched by size and colour, and the Syrasan symbol was stencilled onto each rump. Their heads were secured with leather straps to maintain perfectly arched necks. Aldara knew they required some freedom of their heads to manage the weight of the wagons, and for that reason she did not enjoy the journey. When they arrived in Pelaweth, the horses were slowed to a walk to better navigate the busy roads. Many spectators were packed into carts pulled by one tired horse. Families walked beside the road, carrying small children and encouraging the older ones to keep up. Their wagon was directed past the main entrance where people were queuing to a private entrance framed by large fires blazing from drums. Guards stopped the wagon and peered inside to view its occupants. Aldara wondered what they were assessing since they were all masked. Upon seeing the women, the guards waved them through. The wagon stopped in front of the undercover berfrois, which was also heavily guarded to keep the commoners from disturbing the noble guests. The common people wandered as close as they could to better admire the attire of the rich as they arrived.
When the Companions stepped down from the wagon, the women in the crowd made noises of appreciation while the men stopped their conversations altogether. They all watched the elegant parade of beauty walk to where the richest men of Syrasan were waiting for them. For this tournament, the women had taken their inspiration from species of birds. Aldara was a goldfinch. Her dress was layers of gold and black silk. It had raised shoulders with gemstones. She wore a black mask across her eyes and her hair was sleek and tucked low with dark feathers spraying from it. Black pearls wound her neck and wrist.
Hali was a snow goose. It was an idea the other women had laughed at until they saw her. She was a vision in white lace, with a cluster of soft feathers at the base of her back that moved with her hips as she walked. Fedora had permitted her to wear the diamonds usually reserved for Idalia or Astra. As it was Hali’s first social event since her recovery, she needed to impress the guests. That would in turn impress Pandarus.
Idalia was the peacock. Aldara had spent almost the entire morning on her hair. Emeralds and fine silk had been woven through it, with the fabric extending across her forehead and joining with her mask. Not to be outdone, Astra had transformed herself into a flamingo. She was draped in soft pink silk and matching rare pearls Pandarus had sourced for her as a gift. The dress climbed her neck but was shredded below the waist to ensure her long legs flashed through the fabric whenever she moved. The Noble Companions reluctantly made do with the remaining resources provided to them by Fedora, and after some research, added a pheasant, eagle and kingfisher to the mix of birds.
The women walked up the steps of the berfrois, bathing in the stares of the noble guests who had arrived before them. The air was still cold, and they all pretended it was not. Any mention of cloaks by Aldara had been shut down. Their feathers were far too fragile and their efforts far too great to be covered up.
The wives in attendance remained close to their husbands. There were few social occasions they were invited to join, and flag races gave them an opportunity to try to take back possession of their straying men. The Companions were invisible to them. Their pride stopped them from glancing at the birds weaving between them, stealing all the attention. The masks may have covered their individual identities, but they did not disguise what they were. Thankfully, Fedora had taught them all early on how to rise above feelings of shame while remaining grounded. They learned to accept their outcast status among the married women, but it did not prevent them from socialising with the willing husbands who found ways to free themselves of their wives.
‘How on earth are we meant to socialise when all the men are heavily guarded by their wives?’ Hali asked, careful to keep her face neutral.
‘They are not all guarded,’ Aldara replied without looking at her. She felt tiny against the icy backs of the noble women.
Aldara and Hali saw Lord Clio, a young inheritor of a successful manor near Veanor, standing alone by the refreshments table. They went over to him and got to work. He was painfully shy and struggled to maintain any form of eye contact during their conversation. Aldara made a point of speaking softly and leading the conversation in a way that minimised his discomfort. She found the task much less daunting tucked behind the safety of a mask.
A few minutes into their conversation, King Zenas arrived on horseback flanked by four guards, each flying the Syrasan flag. His crown, elaborate tunic, and familiar physique made him still recognisable, despite a polished wooden mask that covered most of his face. He stepped with great effort up into the berfrois, and people stopped their conversations. His tone was warm and welcoming as he greeted his guests. He acknowledged all of the Companions with a respectful nod before spending a few private moments with Idalia, who escorted him to the adjoining royal berfrois. There he took a seat to await the arrival of the rest of his family.
When the royal women stepped out from their wagon, Aldara noticed Eldoris was dressed conservatively and had chosen not to wear a mask. Cora, on the other hand, was dressed more elaborately than all of the Companions combined. She was draped in heavy jewellery, and her deep blue embroidered dress had a long tail, a feature usually reserved for weddings. Her mask wrapped one side of her head and was painted blue, with tiny gemstones scattered about the eye. Aldara thought she looked like moving water as she slipped past the Companions without so much as a glance in their direction. Aldara rose from her curtsy to find Hali in a panic next to her.
‘He’s here,’ Hali whispered.
Aldara followed her gaze to where the three princes had arrived on horseback. The crowd cheered and whistled, always hopeful that a member of the royal family would compete with enough encouragement. The three princes spent a few moments greeting the serfs who waited at the foot of the berfrois in hope of an audience. Aldara was aware of her change in heart rate at seeing Tyron. She noticed he remained behind to listen to some of the complaints of the thin men who stood with their masks respectfully in their hands. He nodded attentively as they spoke and responded with patience. When he stepped up onto the berfrois, he paused, eyes roaming. She should have looked away, but instead she met his eyes through the holes of his black mask. She waited for the anger to hit her. For weeks she had replayed their last meeting in her mind. But as she stood watching him, she realised he was also stuck in a role he did not want. He was as trapped as she was. He could have ha
d her flogged for the way she spoke to him that day.
Tyron was forced to look away from her when a lord brought his wife to him for introductions. Aldara turned back to Lord Clio.
‘I apologise, my lord. You were telling me about the success you have had with wool.’
He smiled politely and glanced down at his feet. ‘I do not wish to bore you.’
‘Not at all,’ she said, glancing at Hali. Her eyes had not shifted from Pandarus since his arrival. ‘I am curious how the quality could vary so much from one year to the next.’
His gaze returned to her again, his confidence growing. However, the conversation was shut down once again by the sudden presence of Tyron and Pandarus next to them. Prince Stamitos had not made it past Violeta. She had his undivided attention. Aldara and Hali curtsied.
‘How was the journey to Pelaweth, my lords?’ Hali asked, her most brilliant smile on display.
‘Dull,’ replied Pandarus.
Aldara glanced at Tyron, who was watching her. ‘I believe you both know Lord Clio?’ she asked.
Pandarus nodded. It was clear he would not make the conversation easy for anyone. Tyron spoke up for both of them.
‘Yes, how is the manor shaping up for the coming season?’
While the men spoke, Pandarus ran his eyes over Hali, who was pretending to listen to Lord Clio’s response. ‘And where have you been hiding?’ he whispered to her through his silver mask.
Aldara could not stop herself. ‘She has been waiting for the bruising on her face to fade, my lord,’ she whispered to him, careful not to disturb the flow of conversation between Tyron and Lord Clio.
Pandarus turned to her. ‘Well, it looks beautiful now,’ he said, keeping his tone light.
‘It does indeed, my lord,’ Aldara said.
Lord Yuri joined their group and bowed before the princes. ‘Good day, my lords.’ His eyes moved to Hali. ‘Prince Stamitos informs me that all of the ladies are different types of birds,’ he said, sounding pleased. ‘I guessed you to be a swan, not a goose.’ He began to laugh.
Hali smiled politely at him. She seemed to be wilting under the presence of Pandarus.
‘Only Hali could take an ordinary bird like a goose and make it so extraordinary,’ Aldara said to the group.
‘Goodness, you are awfully harsh on the humble goose,’ Pandarus said to her.
‘Did any of your sons make it along?’ Aldara asked Lord Yuri, ignoring Pandarus. ‘I was looking forward to meeting them.’
Lord Yuri was the father of four sons. Two of them living. One had died in battle four years earlier and the other as a newborn during a difficult childbirth that had also taken the life of his wife. The two living sons were both knights of the king. It was the job of a Companion to know the histories of the noblemen, but they were only ever to discuss the aspects of their lives that were directly conveyed.
‘Yes!’ he said. ‘One is competing today.’
‘Wonderful. I will cheer for him. Though I may need a hint as to which rider he is.’ She was about to say something else when she noticed Kadmus seated upon Loda across the field. She reached out and grabbed hold of Hali’s arm to steady herself for a moment.
Tyron narrowed his eyes on her. ‘Are you all right?’
It was the first time he had spoken directly to her. She watched as her brother disappeared into the gathering crowd and then looked up at him.
‘Yes,’ she said, forcing a smile. ‘Yes, my lord.’ She removed her hand from Hali’s arm.
A trumpet sounded, announcing the tournament would soon commence.
‘Hali, get me a drink. Then we should go take our seats,’ Pandarus said to Tyron.
Aldara’s eyes went to him, appalled by his manners. ‘I’ll help you,’ she said to Hali.
‘How many Companions does it take to get one drink?’
She stared at him. ‘I was being courteous.’ She knew he got her point because his eyes flashed at her.
‘There are servants in our berfrois,’ Tyron said to Pandarus. ‘Let’s get drinks brought to our seat.’
He glanced once at Aldara before moving his brother along. The women curtsied and watched the princes walk through to the royal berfrois.
Hali turned to Aldara. ‘What’s wrong? Why did you grab me?’ she whispered.
‘I saw Kadmus, and it threw me for a moment.’
A look of pity came over Hali. ‘Let’s find seats before the trumpet sounds again.’
They took the two remaining seats at the front of the berfrois. The spectators had gone silent as they waited for the race to begin. Hali took Aldara’s hand and squeezed it. ‘Don’t worry, you will see him again. My father will be here selling bread. Though he may not recognise me.’
Aldara turned to her. ‘Perhaps we can ask Lord Yuri to accompany us later to sample bread. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind,’ she whispered. ‘You could speak with your father.’
Hali shook her head. ‘I can’t risk any further trouble. And your comment before didn’t help the matter.’
‘The man is a pig.’
Hali looked around to ensure no one had heard before turning back to Aldara. ‘If you want to completely ruin your chances with Prince Tyron, go ahead, but please leave me off your path of destruction. I’m not as strong as you. I would not survive if something were to happen.’
Aldara swallowed. ‘You are right, and I’m sorry. I should not have said it.’
The final trumpet sounded. There was a small eruption of excitement from the spectators, which built up the suspense. Aldara’s gaze shifted to the field where a mounted horse now stood. It pawed at the ground and pulled its head against the reins. It was fitted with one of the lightest saddles she had ever seen, but the rider was a heavy man. She guessed his boots alone weighed as much as her. The timekeeper’s horn sounded, and the horse took off, using the full power of his hind legs. Within a few strides they were moving at a gallop, and when the rider retrieved the first flag, the crowd thundered with applause. Aldara pressed her hands together in her lap, and from that moment on, she could not look away from the race.
The skill of the riders made her heart quicken. The horses knew what to do, negotiating tight turns at almost horizontal angles. Each time a flag was retrieved the crowd would stir and glance at the timekeeper, whose arm was poised, ready to fly up whenever a faster time was recorded. By the time the second rider had finished Aldara understood the challenges of the sport. By the third, she had memorised the course. When the fourth rider exited the field, she had some thoughts on how their times might be improved.
The trumpet sounded to signal a break, and she exhaled and sat back in her chair. ‘That was incredible.’
‘Let’s find the wine,’ Hali said, seeming disinterested.
When they arrived at the refreshments table, they came upon two guests having an animated conversation about the last rider.
‘He wasted time on the last two turns. He would have been in the lead if he had maintained his technique,’ one said.
‘If he had taken those turns any sooner, he would not have cleared them,’ the other replied.
‘I would recognise your quarrelling anywhere,’ said Hali, interrupting them. ‘Your masks cannot hide your never-ending difference of opinion,’ she laughed. ‘Aldara, allow me to introduce Lord Thanos and Lord Xerxes.’
The two men bowed before them.
‘My dear Hali, is it possible you get more beautiful each time we see you?’ asked Lord Xerxes.
‘Not only possible, but very probable,’ she replied.
‘Don’t worry, we can speak of something more suitable for ladies,’ he assured her.
‘No, please, continue,’ Aldara insisted. ‘However, I am afraid I will have to agree with Lord Thanos on this matter. The rider could have saved time on the last two turns. Though I am not sure all blame falls on the rider. His horse was tiring.’ The men exchanged a look of surprise. ‘Perhaps a little more work on the horse’s fitness would have been beneficial
,’ she added.
She saw him then. A few yards away Kadmus stood with Loda among the trees, watching her. When he was sure she had seen him, he raised his hand in a wave. Without thinking, she raised a hand and waved back. She stood frozen with her hand in the air, perplexing the men next to her.
‘Aldara,’ Hali said, trying to pull her focus back before she was noticed.
But it was too late. Pandarus stepped into Aldara’s vision, snatching her attention. A tiny gasp escaped her. When she looked at him, she knew from the smug fix of his mouth he had seen the exchange.
‘Forgive me, my lord,’ she said in her warmest tone. ‘My mind was elsewhere.’ Both of the women curtsied. ‘How are you enjoying the tournament so far?’ she asked, drowning before him.
They all stood waiting for him to reply, but instead of responding, he turned to Kadmus and raised his hand also. Aldara felt her body tighten as her brother returned a reluctant wave. What had she done? She watched as Kadmus turned and led Loda away from them, willing them to go faster.
‘Friend of yours?’ Pandarus asked, turning to face her.
Hali tried to take the attention off her. ‘My lords, can I refill your cups? It helps mask the cold,’ she said, gesturing towards the drinks on the next table.
Aldara watched as they stepped away towards the table and fought her instinct to follow them. Her eyes moved to the royal berfrois, where she could see Tyron chatting with a guest who had been invited inside. He glanced over also, and she watched his expression change. His feet were moving towards her before he had even concluded his conversation.
Pandarus was still waiting for an answer. ‘An old farmhand of yours perhaps?’ he prompted.
Aldara realised he was hoping for a scandal. A fling with a farmhand would suit his needs. She smiled. ‘That was my brother, Kadmus, my lord.’
‘Really?’ he asked, sounding disappointed. He thought for a moment. ‘Does he compete? We are always searching for new talent. He certainly appears to have the horse for it.’