Two Heirs (The Marmoros Trilogy Book 1)

by Peter Kenson

  “I have,” Josep replied. “Some of it is sad and some of it is more exciting than anything I have heard for years.”

  He paused to glance round the table at the circle of faces, all watching him expectantly.

  “First the sad news. Lord Gereld Brantyen is dead. The king-in-exile of the Lyenar people, although he never styled himself so, was apparently killed in a dispute with a tax collector in Paelis. There’s more to it than that but the details are a little hazy. Shortly after his death there are reports of a battle in which a number of Duke Henry’s men were killed or captured and a large number of Lyenar hostages were rescued. As I say, the details are a little hazy but the upshot is that Duke Henry is absolutely furious and every Lyenar family is getting the hell out of Paelis as fast as their wagons will carry them.”

  He paused for a moment and looked at both Seb and Rachel. “I’m not sure how much you youngsters know of the history of the Lyenar but there is a city called Marmoros which used to belong to us. We were forced to leave the city and the surrounding valley many years ago and none of our people have been allowed back since. I have never seen the city myself but I can remember my parents telling me how beautiful it was.”

  “And the valley,” Agnes added. “It was the valley of the River Savage but everybody called it Neverwinter valley. The hills on one side of the valley were riddled with hot springs that kept the temperature in the valley at a very pleasant level, even through the depths of winter.”

  “Well now,” Josep continued. “Lord Gereld is succeeded by his son Jeren who is not yet old enough to take the title and so his mother, Lady Falaise Brantyen is acting as Regent in his stead. However, this young Jeren is apparently a visionary leader who has inspired the Lyenar in his village to march on Marmoros and retake our homeland. He has recruited a mercenary army to fight for them and is calling for all Lyenar families to gather under his banner and join the march on Marmoros.

  “Can you imagine what this means to the Lyenar people? After all these years in exile. To walk in the Neverwinter valley and see the city of Marmoros. To go home.”

  Chapter 14

  The news sparked a discussion that went on late into the night. Zak and Beth, who had grown up with the stories of Marmoros, were thrilled by the news and pestered Josep for any scrap of information he might have on this Lord Jeren, who had so inspired the Lyenar people.

  “Can he actually do it?” Angelo cautioned. “Marmoros was only taken by treachery before. Not by force of arms.”

  “I don’t know,” Josep admitted. “But I have this tremendous feeling of excitement that he is actually trying. I have to go there. If there is even the remotest possibility of actually seeing Marmoros for myself, I have to go there and lend whatever support I can to this young lord. This young lord who will one day be our king.”

  “I agree,” Zak said. “Beth and I both agree. This feels right. We have to go there. We have to be a part of this.”

  “Then I will do whatever I can to help you,” Angelo offered. “What do you need? How will you get there?”

  “A ship,” Josep replied. “A ship to Westron or Keldis would be ideal. One that will take us lock, stock and barrel, wagons, horses, everything and drop us on the far side. I have many friends in Westport who would help us on from there but it’s the longer sea trip. The alternative is to take the shorter crossing to Kell which would put us nearer to Marmoros but I have fewer contacts there.”

  “I will make enquiries in the morning,” Angelo said. “But a ship that will take two wagons…“

  “Three wagons,” Rachel interposed. “I’m coming with you.”

  “You don’t have to do this, my dear,” Josep said. “We have greatly enjoyed your company these last weeks but you are not Lyenar. You have no hereditary ties to Marmoros.”

  “Nonsense,” Rachel replied firmly. “You told Master Angelo that we were family. If you are going to Marmoros, then I am coming with you. And that’s settled.”

  “Hm, I see. And what about you, Seb?”

  Seb glanced quickly at Teresa and then looked down at his hands, folded on the table in front of him.

  “You asked me once what I could do. How I was going to earn my crust. Well the only thing I have been trained in is the art of the sword. I’m not in the same class as Master Ramirez or even my uncle Symon but I believe I have some skill and I intend to make a name for myself. Your young king sounds as though he needs every sword he can get. If you will have me, I will travel with you and join the crusade to retake Marmoros.”

  “Well then, old friend. It seems that we need passage for three wagons, six people and horses. That is, unless you want to come with us also.”

  “I think not,” Angelo laughed. “I am getting too old and fat for such an adventure. Much as I would love to see the fabled city of Marmoros, my business needs me here. Besides, you will need an agent here once Marmoros is open for trade again.

  “But seriously, a ship to Westron might be difficult unless we can find one that is returning there for the winter. It’s too late in the season for a ship to set out from here to Westport and hope to get back again before the winter storms.”

  “There are ships from both Keldis and Westron in the harbour,” Zak said eagerly. “We saw them when we came in.”

  “Ships come and go every day, Zak. Those ships may not still be there and, even if they are, their captains may already have contracted cargoes. Three wagons will require an awful lot of space. Still, tomorrow we will see what can be achieved. For now, I propose a toast to Marmoros and a good night’s sleep.”

  ***

  Nobody slept much overnight and they all rose early, eager to be on with the day. Servants were rushing about in apparent confusion, slightly flustered by all the demands for an early breakfast, until Maria arrived and restored a state of domestic order.

  As soon as the meal was over and before the servants could even start to clear the dishes, Angelo and Josep set off for the harbour to enquire about a ship. Zak and Beth went with them to continue the purchase of both trading goods and provisions for the journey while Agnes and Maria announced that they would begin to prepare the list of extra supplies that would be required on a sea voyage.

  This left the three young people on their own. Seb wanted to get back to the shop of Master Ramirez to collect his sword and shyly asked Teresa if she would like to accompany him. She looked across at her mother who glanced quickly at Agnes and then nodded.

  “Very well but I think it would be better if Rachel went with you also. And I want you straight back here afterwards. There are errands that will have to be run today.”

  The three of them set off towards the market in high spirits but this time it was the girls who were dragging their feet as they walked down the goldsmiths street, stopping to admire something from every display they passed. Seb was so wrapped up with the thought of his new sword that he was completely unaware that he was being teased until the two girls caught up with him, waiting impatiently at the end of the street.

  “I hear there’s a new dress shop opened just across the square from here,” Teresa said artlessly. “Shall we take a look as we go? It’s only a little bit out of our way.”

  The expression on Seb’s face was so anguished that both girls burst out laughing so hard that they had to hold on to each other for support.

  “Oh Seb, I’m sorry,” Teresa sobbed eventually. “But the look on your face was priceless. Please forgive us and we’ll go to collect your sword directly.”

  With that, the two girls took an arm each and set off across the square. It was a full market day and the square was crowded with people, so they had to weave their way between the stalls to reach the far side of the square.

  Master Ramirez was standing at the door to his shop and smiled in welcome as he saw them approach.

  “Good day Master Waterson and good day to you, ladies. It’s not often that my shop is graced with such beauty. Would you care to
step inside or shall I bring the young gentleman’s sword out here?”

  “We shall come in, sir,” Teresa replied. “I should very much like to see inside your shop. My father has often spoken of your skill with weapons but he has never mentioned your skill at flattery.”

  “Ah I am wounded,” Ramirez said, staggering back with his hand over his heart. “Mortally wounded. Your father is obviously a man of taste and discernment but you misjudge me, mistress. Flattery is nothing but false praise. To describe yourself and your companion as beautiful is in no way flattery but simple, honest truth.”

  “Then I forgive you, Master Ramirez. And I trust you will be sufficiently recovered from your injuries to show us your shop.”

  Inside the shop Ramirez clapped his hands and summoned his apprentices to find stools suitable for the girls and some more lamps to lighten the gloom. Seb looked quickly around but there was no sign of the apprentice who had been so rude to him before.

  The sword was already lying on the bench although wrapped still in its cloth. Carefully Ramirez unwrapped the bundle and Seb gave a little gasp as he saw the finished product. The sword had been polished within an inch of its life and positively gleamed as it lay there in the lamplight.

  “It’s beautiful,” he said. “And that is not flattery either.”

  “Thank you, young sir. That is appreciated. I have put a new edge on the sword which should last you many months. And to protect both it and you, I have taken the liberty of having this scabbard made.”

  Ramirez reached beneath the bench and pulled out a plain leather scabbard and belt. “It’s nothing fancy but I believe it is in keeping with the sword and with your late uncle’s wishes.”

  “Thank you, Master Ramirez. May I?”

  “Of course. It’s yours now.”

  Seb fastened the belt around his waist and carefully sheathed the sword in its new scabbard. "Is there extra to pay for the leatherwork?” he asked.

  “No nothing. As I said to you yesterday, your uncle sent a generous amount of money to cover the commission. In fact I have something here for you.”

  Ramirez reached beneath the bench again and pulled out a small purse, tipping the contents onto the bench. “One talon and three groats. As I cannot repay your uncle, that is yours now as well.”

  “Thank you once again, Master Ramirez. I promise you I will look after this sword and I will wear it with pride and I hope, with honour.”

  “That’s all I ask of any of my clients, young sir. And now, ladies, may I show you something of my shop?”

  “I’m afraid it will have to be another time, Master Ramirez. We are required back at the house. I think my mother has chores for us all.”

  “Then may I at least know the name of your father, that I may thank him for bringing such an enchanting creature into the world?”

  “No no, I beg you,” Teresa laughed. “Do not start that again, for you will have considerably more difficulty in convincing me of your sincerity a second time around. But my father is Master Angelo, the merchant.”

  “Angelo! Of course, I see the resemblance now. You must be Mistress Teresa. I’m so sorry that I didn’t recognise you but it has been several years…”

  “… and I have grown somewhat,” Teresa finished. “No apology is necessary, Master Ramirez. But I have greatly enjoyed the visit this morning and perhaps you will permit me to return when I have more time.”

  “My shop will always be open to you and your companions, mistress.”

  Outside the shop, the sun was now well up into a clear blue sky and it was obviously going to be a warm autumn day. The smell of decomposing refuse arising from the river running sluggishly alongside the street, was already becoming unpleasant and the three of them hurried back towards the market. Just as they were reaching the corner of the street, a youth who had been lounging on the bank of the river, made a signal with his hand and three more young toughs came round the corner to block their path.

  Seb recognised the apprentice who had been so rude to him the previous day and moved to his left to escort the girls past them. The apprentice and his companions quickly moved across the street to block them again and force them to stop. The largest of the three newcomers stood a full head taller than Seb and was wearing a brigandine covered in a velvety cloth and decorated with fancy stud work. The apprentice and the other two were wearing ordinary street clothes and all four were carrying slim willow switches.

  “Is this the one, Nik?” the brigandine asked.

  “Yeah, that’s him with his fancy new sword,” the apprentice replied. “And two fancy women as well. I wonder where he found them.”

  “Stand aside and let us pass, please,” Seb said.

  “Stand aside and let us pass, please,” the brigandine mimicked. “I don’t think so. You don’t look old enough to be carrying a fancy sword like that so just hand it over and let’s take a look at it.”

  “You are an arrogant loudmouth,” Teresa said stepping forward. “And you have no right to block our path. Now step aside or I will summon the watch.”

  “Summon the watch,” brigandine said looking around him in feigned surprise. “I can’t see any watch. Anybody else see any watch? No? I guess that makes me in charge around here and I will block your path for as long as I want. Now you step aside, girl and let me deal with mister fancy sword here.”

  Before Teresa could say anything else, Seb moved between them and turned to face her, leaving his back towards the youths.

  “It’s alright, Teresa,” he said softly. “Let’s go back to the shop and then we’ll find another route home…”

  He broke off with a cry of pain as brigandine slashed him across the shoulders with the willow cane.

  “So you’re a coward as well,” brigandine exclaimed. “Cowards aren’t allowed to carry swords in this city. We’ll show you what happens to cowards around here.”

  With that all four youths attacked Seb with their canes, raining blows on any part of his body they could reach as he raised his arms to try to ward off the attack.

  “Stop it,” Teresa cried as she and Rachel rushed forward to help Seb and then collapsed with a shriek of agony as brigandine turned and deliberately slashed her across the face with his cane.

  “I told you to stay out of it, girl,” brigandine snarled and then stepped hurriedly backwards as Seb drew his sword.

  “You’re going to pay for that, you bastard,” he shouted at brigandine.

  The other youths all fell back as well as brigandine drew his own sword and dropped into a fighting crouch.

  “You all saw that,” he said with a triumphant smile. “He drew his sword first and threatened me. Now I’m going to teach you why you shouldn’t be carrying a sword.”

  He stepped back again as Seb launched an immediate attack to allow Rachel to help Teresa to her feet behind him. The fight then settled into a period of sparring as both of them searched the other’s defence for any sign of weakness. Brigandine had obviously had some professional training in swordplay but Seb had been taught by his uncle and easily dealt with the larger boy’s attacks. Eventually, brigandine lost patience and began a flurry of attacks, using his greater strength and reach to drive Seb back towards the bank of the river. Seb could feel the ground sloping away behind his back foot and stood very still as his opponent charged towards him. At the last moment he rolled to one side and came to his feet behind brigandine, slapping him hard across his back with the flat of his sword. Brigandine stood there for a second at the very edge of the bank, waving his hands in the air and trying desperately to regain his balance when Seb put his foot to the other boy’s backside and pushed.

  The fight had attracted quite a crowd by this time and there was a general ripple of both laughter and applause as brigandine dropped his sword and fell headfirst into the foul smelling river. The laughter quickly died away as the sergeant of the watch and two constables arrived from one direction and Master Ramirez came from the
other with Rachel on his heels.

  “What’s going on here?” Ramirez and the sergeant asked together.

  “Help me. I can’t swim,” came from the river amid the sounds of much splashing.

  “Stand up, you silly bugger,” one of the bystanders shouted. “The water won’t even come up to your knees there.”

  One of the constables scrambled down the bank to give brigandine a hand and help him out of the water. He climbed back up to the street and stood there, dripping wet and smelling so bad that that crowd moved back a few paces away from him.

  “He attacked me,” brigandine said, pointing at Seb. “He drew his sword and threatened me. I was only defending myself.”

  “That’s a lie,” Seb replied. “I was protecting the ladies from these bullies.”

  “But who drew their sword first?” the sergeant demanded.

  “He did,” brigandine shouted. “He drew first. There are witnesses.”

  “Is this true?” Ramirez asked Seb. “Did you draw your sword first?”

  “Well yes,” Seb admitted. “But they were attacking me and they struck Teresa.”

  “I am very disappointed in you, young Waterson. I had thought better of you…” He broke off as a voice sounded inside his head. “Look at her face.”

  Ramirez frowned and put a hand up to massage his temple. “Look at who’s face?” he asked in surprise.

  “I’m sorry, sir. What was that?” the sergeant asked.

  “No, nothing. It’s just that I could have sworn I heard somebody speaking to me.”

  “Look at her face,” the voice sounded inside his head again but louder this time. “Look at Teresa’s face”.

  Ramirez glanced quickly at Seb who was standing with his head down, studiously examining his feet.

  “Teresa?” he said, looking round. “Where is Mistress Teresa?”

  “Over here,” Rachel called.

  The crowd parted to allow Ramirez and the sergeant through to where Teresa was half sitting, half lying with Rachel’s arms around her and one of the stallholder women dabbing at her face with a damp handkerchief. Ramirez knelt in front of her and gently tilted her chin to see the damage to her face. There was a bright red welt running the length of her cheek and the skin had split at the cheekbone. There was a thin trickle of blood running down which the woman was trying to staunch.