Again he was feeling nervous about the treatment. It was probably normal for most countries to supply an honor guard for visiting representatives, but Tseult had already proven that it was by no means a normal country. Gerid found no implications of treachery, however, and soon the four of them had entered the castle gates. It wasn't until they had actually entered a large banquet room that the honor guard broke from them.
Noting that each man took a place along the outer walls, Gerid quickly dismissed them to the back of his mind. He looked for King Tadmin. An answer to Colona's request would have to be given before he left or his fleet would be stuck here another day. The longer the wait, the more likely that the king would find a way to draw his men into the arena, the commander worried.
After meeting the king, he would have thought that the nobleman would have been quite easy to find in a crowd. He was almost as tall as Gerid himself. In Rhearden, such a giant would have stood out among any crowd for sure. In Tseult, at least among the nobility, height of an unusual stature to the rest of the world was just barely above the norm. Everywhere Gerid looked, he spied men above six foot tall escorting ladies nearing that height as well. Looking back at Finneas, Ferrin and James, average in height among those in Rhearden, he wondered if they felt like they were in a land of giants. There had been a story of the brother gods having an adventure to such a place in their mythology, though he couldn't seem to remember its name.
He spied a circlet of gold in the crowd towards the far end of the hall and helped split the crowd for his friends to follow. The giants parted like slow moving waves and, after several minutes of apologizing for bumping into this couple or another in the crowded room, Gerid finally moved close enough to the king to speak.
Tadmin smiled and took his hand good naturedly. "Good evening, commander, I am glad that you could join us tonight." He turned and pulled his wife closer. Gerid half bowed. They weren't his sovereigns after all. "My queen, Ylsbeth."
"I am honored, your highness." Gerid kissed the hand offered him by the woman.
"Perhaps you would like to meet my son as well, commander?" the king questioned. The twinkle in his eyes betrayed that the man was up to something, but Gerid answered in the affirmative. "Son," Tadmin called loudly, another piece of etiquette not unusual to see broken by the king of Tseult.
That point was forgotten quickly by Gerid as an even taller man stepped from the crowd behind the king. The face, though darkened by several bruises, was easily recognizable to him. The king laughed and introduced the prince and another man who moved at his side, "I believe that you know my son, Prince Brisal, and his loyal companion and future baron of East March, Lord Orttes."
Gerid smiled politely and replied, "Of course, excellent warriors and actors both. I would never have guessed by their act in the tavern that they were of noble birth."
He almost expected the men to be angry at his words, but instead the royals all laughed. Others close enough to have heard the comments also joined the laughter and he realized that they were truly amused by his words.
The prince, with blond hair like his father and a now noticeable similarity to the king to Gerid’s eyes, bowed grandly. "Former champion of the arena and future thespian of our equally famed theatre, Prince Brisal at your service, commander." The man sobered ever so slightly as he added, "I hope that our ruse wasn't too out of line. We really don't treat all emissaries so roughly."
"We don't?" Orttes asked looking genuine in his surprise.
The prince laughed again and clapped the man across the shoulders. "All right, maybe some, but we aren't that uncivilized, cousin. We do treat some of them with complete respect, but, when we receive word that the famed White Haired Demon has graced our fair city with his presence, we have to try and test his reputation in the arena, don't we?"
Orttes held his hand to a cloth at the side of his head that probably covered stitches and appeared less convinced than his princely cousin.
Nodding at the man's knowledge of his reputation, Gerid asked, "How did you know that I was who I am? Even my fleet couldn't have given you that knowledge, and, when I was in the arena with you, you seemed only mildly surprised when I told you that fact."
Tadmin spoke for his son, "A system of carnal gulls and messenger peregions brought word from Admiral Koort in brief detail that he believed that you were him. We couldn't be sure and the second message that you brought had the warning of the klostens' defeat by you. If Koort had mentioned that fact as well in his first communication, I would have never let my only son join you in the ring. Your reputation as a killer has made it even as far as our nation."
The prince shrugged, "I would have still dared him, father. As I said, having the chance to compete with one such as he is worth the risk to body and limb. I'll be feeling the bumps that you gave me for weeks though, I am sure."
Gerid nodded again and decided to risk asking about business, "My king asked that I have a written confirmation of your answer to his letter, King Tadmin. When might I be able to have that, your highness? As much as I applaud your generosity in giving me this banquet, my lord still has need of me in his kingdom. I would like to be able to get back to my mission that I may once again see my family before I leave again."
The king shook his head sadly, "The life of a sailor is rough, I hear. I expect that you have little enough time to visit your family these days. My sources have told me of how quickly your fleet has grown this past year, and of course, we could see all the ships you brought to our harbor, less than a year really. Do you have someone dear to you back in Rhearden?"
"My son and fiancée. My brother as well."
"A son and a fiancée? How did that happen, commander? Isn't it supposed to be marriage that comes before children or has Rhearden changed that rule?"
"My first wife died during the fall, sir," Gerid said quickly. He didn't feel his personal life was the king's business, but the commander could hardly leave the man thinking he had a bastard son. Even if Gerid never met this king again, he would not let his family be harmed again, even in reputation.
Keeping his anger firmly locked away, Gerid knew that it was still an innocent question of curiosity. It wasn't really this king that he was angry against anyway. Sometimes his hatred of Merrick clouded his feelings and this was not the place to lose control of himself. The king seemed oblivious to the anger beneath his calm looking surface. The man was talking on about the importance of family and the need to be there to help shape a child's growth.
Gerid could have been in another room for all that it would stop the king from continuing his speech.
"I'll have my letter brought here before you leave, commander. I wouldn't want to keep you any longer than I have to, I hope you know." He smiled and wagged his finger beneath his chin and added, "Please feel free to bring the whole family next time. You'll be a knight or lord by then, I'm sure, so it would only be proper to have you stay in my castle on the next trip. You'll be married by then as well. Perhaps you'll come here for your honeymoon. Maybe you'd even like a chance to defend your title as champion of the arena sometime."
The king went on for almost an hour. He changed topics and even signaled for the meal to begin, but Tadmin never seemed to stop talking. The prince and Lord Orttes moved off after only a few minutes. Even the queen made a silent exit somewhere along the line. Gerid had missed her exit while he could find no way to separate himself from the long winded king without appearing to insult the lord.
The commander felt his companions
disappearing and returning only to leave again. He even heard James' hushed words to Finneas, something unflattering about being a blow hard. Gerid had not even shown that he heard. He simply smiled as Tadmin led him to the table for a truly regal repast.
The king still talked often enough during the meal. That was fine since Gerid was able to eat easily enough. It wasn't like the man really demanded any replies. Tadmin rattled on about alliances, families, his arenas versus other kingdoms. Gerid was
just waiting for the man to get down to matters of real importance such as why the sky was blue, perhaps?
Finally, Brisal and Orttes rescued him from the king. The meal had just officially concluded when the prince smoothly interjected, "Father, perhaps I could show our guest the armory. I doubt that he has ever seen such a grand array of ancient weapons. I can show him the sword that grandfather used to cut down the king of Malaiy to make way for the great wall of Dangared."
"Oh, great idea, son! I should probably return to the other guests anyway. They would all complain later that I spent all evening with this charming, lad." The king bowed his head slightly and added to Gerid, "If you'll excuse me, commander, I should attend to my other guests. My son will take good care of you I am certain."
Tadmin stepped away and flagged down some lord who looked like a cornered rabbit. Apparently the king was quite talkative with everyone, Gerid thought.
"An amazing demonstration of stamina, Commander Aramathea. I thought that you were only good on the battlefield," Brisal said quietly so his father could not possibly hear from the short distance he had gone.
Gerid raised an eyebrow questioningly, "Demonstration of stamina? I don't understand," he stated acting as if he hadn't just endured one of the longest evenings in his life. It made his time aboard the slave ship seem almost brief by comparison.
The prince gave him a hand up from his chair and laughed. "You don't have to humor me, commander. My father is a wonderful man, but after awhile even his best stories cause me to wander. I don't believe that I've ever seen anyone last an entire meal and then some, without trying to excuse themselves somehow. I'm family and even I have to take turns dealing with him with my mother. You wonder why she seems so quiet before you and the others? She hardly says a word, if you hadn't noticed."
Gerid nodded the briefest nod he could. If the man turned angry at his own opinion, he could always back pedal out of it that way.
The prince smiled wider. "I think she speaks so little because she is so tired of hearing him speak that even her own voice has begun to grate on her." The man's eyes strayed back in the direction of his father and winced. "We had better get going. I think he's starting to head this way again."
Orttes' eyes widened, as if in fear, and was already moving away from the king's direction quickly. With Brisal to guide him, Gerid quickly followed. The men were right. You can only listen to a man talk for so long before you need a break. He spied the queen among a half dozen ladies and looked on her with suddenly sympathetic feelings.
Chapter 32- Arenas
The return of the wind on his face and the smell of the salty sea was a wonderful change after the time spent in Tristan. Two weeks of ocean travel seemed like mere instants after the night spent with King Tadmin.
The commander looked up to a sky speckled with a few clouds. Just enough to prove that they were at sea again. There were almost always clouds where the warm sun heated the cooler ocean waters causing evaporation that the human eye could never see. Gerid knew that most men, even sailors, did not believe or even conceive of such a thing happening. He only knew of it from one of the scrolls that his father had picked up long ago. It had allegedly come from a wizard, though it contained no magic for the untrained to discover.
He thought back to his conversation with Brisal and Orttes that night at the castle. The darkness of that night was so different from this day of bright sunshine and cool winds. The men had assured him that they would not have killed either him or his men in the arena. They were officially the king's men sent to establish good relations.
"We're not barbarians after all," Brisal had stated more than once in defense. "We just like our arenas and to have fun. If we can have fun by getting into the arena, so much the better."
Gerid had to laugh at that. Once you got past the obvious deception they had perpetrated, another attempt at having fun so they said, the people of Tristan were actually a fun loving people. He was told of the fact that, unlike his father had implied, they were continuously having festivals and carnivals in and around the city. The people from the farms and small towns throughout the land came or threw their own parties.
The arena was said to have come from that sense of fun. A strange opinion to hold, Gerid thought, but Brisal had assured him it was true. With Orttes to help him, they had gone into the long history of how dueling had turned into the arena.
"Once duels were undergone to settle disputes when judges could not be found or trials would not be followed," Brisal had stated at one point. "One of the older kings, I forget his name off hand..."
"Apoldo the second," Orttes put in.
"Apoldo?" the prince questioned, momentarily distracted, "I thought that he formed the great aqueduct in Ormon."
"That too. He had a long, busy reign, Brisal," the lord replied dryly.
With a last annoyed look at his companion, the prince continued, "Anyway, I guess that there was a war going on during his reign and he had a pair of generals bent on killing each other in a duel. They hated each other so much that even their men were fighting against each other.
"Well, I don't have to tell you that fighting your own men doesn't win a war, commander. It got so bad that the king ..."
"Apoldo."
Brisal gave his friend an evil look, but continued quickly, "...Apoldo, took matters into his own hands. He declared that the men could not fight a duel except in one place. Anywhere else and they would both hang for their breaking of the rule. Apoldo set up a ring of stones about thirty feet in diameter and declared that the two general’s fight to first blood or until one of them was forced from the ring.
"Officers from both contingents and those of the king's own personal guard watched the battle. The two men actually tried to not draw blood during that match. They preferred the humiliation of seeing the other knocked from the ring. They threw down their swords at the same time during the match in fact and fought just with shields. Finally, one general was thrown from the ring."
Orttes nodded. "The winner went back and led most of his army to one side of the enemy and the loser led his men to the other side. They had bet each other that in battle, one army could defeat the enemy swifter than the other. The king's idea most likely. It was at least productive for the war effort."
"Exactly, but the war ended and they couldn't decide who had won best, so those who wished to see who was actually better returned to the ring. A competition began that lasted days and then months.
"While each day held more competition, the others had to wait their turn and they began to build bleachers while the other men fought. Peddlers and merchants started setting up places to sell their wares, while inns and taverns sprouted up so that those waiting could have a place to stay."
Orttes took up the story again, "There were so many fighters trying to get into the only ring where such a fight was allowed by royal edict, that many brought their families nearer and made homes where they could stay. Soon there were so many people that they formed a virtual city. The king came back from Ormon, after the aqueduct was completed," he nodded to Brisal, who shrugged noncommittally, "and started work on a castle. More men and their families came and some men trained their sons to fight as they got older to continue a feud that might even have come from before their birth."
"Later kings added more rings around the city and many of those with feuds forgot what they were even wanting to fight about after awhile, and by awhile, I mean decades for some of them. They didn't care at that point. The city had come together and more and more of the fights were simply good natured contests to prove the strongest fighter.
"Now a days, after so many centuries of arena fighters, it has become a way of life. Families go to the arena to watch the fights. Like I said, most of the combatants these days are just there to see who is best. Most go to first blood or until one man submits."
"What about the men with the tridents today?" Gerid asked.
Orttes shrugged, "Those men hated each other for years. The are
na officials dragged out their
processing for months, but the two insisted on the penalty of death. They couldn't be denied. It is the law. Poor Sinclear, he was a good craftsman too."
"What happens to his widow, if he has one?" Gerid asked curiously.
"She sells his business and the other man has to provide for her until either she or he finds her a new husband. In this case, the fight was actually over her, at least in part."
"Found Veras with Sinclear's wife," Orttes shook his head with a tragic look on his face.
Brisal nodded, "Veras was Sinclear's apprentice and must have envied his master's young wife. The woman was only about half Sinclear's age and only slightly older than Veras. They'll marry and Veras will take over the business."
Gerid had felt a cold shiver down his back after hearing such a thing stated so matter of factly. "And that's the justice of the arena?"
Both arena men had simply shrugged. It was life in Tseult, whether good or bad, in their opinion.
A shiver in the wood of the ship shook him back to the present. The coastline of southern Tseult was still visible in the haze of distance. He cocked his head wondering at how such a typically fun loving people could let something like the arena exist. Gerid hoped it never caught on where he lived.
Two more klosten warships and their merchant class telia had been caught by Gerid's almost pack like fleet. Like wolves of the sea, his powerful navy had run the three ships down without there ever being a prayer of escape. It had been early morning when they had been spotted. With a full day to catch them, even the quicker klereons couldn't outrun the Vengeance and Death Stalker at full speed. The winds also favored Gerid's fleet since they came from slightly southward, the direction in which the klostens would hope to flee.
The telia had even less of a chance. He had only one ship in his fleet that couldn't squeeze out the extra knots to catch the merchant and the carveol, Emerald, had the better wind.
The High King: A Tale of Alus Page 33