by Peter Kenson
The white flag stopped about twenty paces short of the gates and the two officers rode up alongside him.
“We want to speak to the High Warden,” one of them called out.
“He can hear you,” Walbend replied. “What do you want?”
“We are in pursuit of a large group of thieves and murderers. They have stolen the duke’s tax money, kidnapped his loyal tax collector and killed a number of his soldiers. We demand that the High Warden expels these fugitives from the city immediately so that they can face justice.”
“They are no longer in the city. They attacked the gates here and forced them open. Then they rode straight through the city and out into Keldis.”
“Then we demand passage through the city ourselves so that we may pursue them.”
“The High Warden regrets that he cannot allow that. Under the terms of the High King’s charter, troops of foreign soldiers are not allowed to enter the city bearing arms.”
“And yet you allowed the fugitives through.”
“No we did not. As I said, they attacked and forced the gates. They entered the city without the High Warden’s permission.”
“Duke Henry is not going to be pleased with your response. I will ask you one last time to open the gates and let us through. I promise that no harm will come to your city or your citizens if you do so. But if you do not, you will most certainly incur the duke’s wrath.”
“And if we allow you passage into Keldis, we will most certainly incur the wrath of Duke Theron. The High Warden regrets the situation but he cannot abandon his policy of strict neutrality. You may not enter.”
The High Warden was currently regretting the situation by curling himself into the smallest ball he could manage, below the level of the parapet.
“All right, let’s stop this farce right now,” the other officer spoke for the first time. “There are many more men on the walls there, than the High Warden has in his pitiful little defence force. The fugitives we seek were being accompanied by a small group of mercenaries and outlaws. I suspect that they are standing beside you at this very minute, attempting to stiffen the High Warden’s spine. Let me talk to the leader of these mercenaries.”
“I can hear you,” David called down. “What do you want?”
“Your head would make a good start,” the officer replied. “You have caused the Duke some considerable inconvenience.”
“I regret the inconvenience but I’m afraid I have grown rather attached to my head and I would prefer to keep it that way.”
“Okay, let us say that I accept this pathetic little story about attacking the gates, then the defence of the city is obviously so weak that there is little to prevent me from doing the same and forcing an entrance. However, there would inevitably be casualties on both sides and the duke is always mindful of the welfare of his men. I propose that we settle this issue by single combat; your champion against mine. If you win, we will release the hostages here and return to Paelis.”
“And if I lose?”
“Under those circumstances, I believe the High Warden might wish to re-evaluate his relationship with Duke Henry and consider the advantages that the friendship and patronage of such a powerful man, might bring to this city.”
“And if I decline your offer?”
The officer shrugged. “Then we will kill the hostages. Right here and now.”
David ducked back from the embrasure as the officers crowded round him.
“Let me fight him, my lord,” Feynor offered.
“No my friend, not you. Marta would never forgive me.”
“Then let me, milord,” Jorgen said. “I have no ties.”
“No, no. Back off, all of you. There’s something going on here that I haven’t got a hold on yet.”
“Well, what are we going to do, milord? We can’t allow those hostages to be killed.”
“I quite agree there. Let’s see how far he’s prepared to go.”
David leant back over the edge and called down again. “Okay, I’m willing to accept the challenge but under one condition.”
“And what might that be?”
“Champions are two a penny and can always be replaced but senior commanders are something else. Let’s settle this between the two of us. You and me.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” the officer said with a grin, swinging himself down from his horse and starting to unfasten his riding cloak.
“Well that’s certainly upped the stakes,” David said as his officers stared at him in horror. “I can still smell something here but I don’t know what it is. Bern, I want your archers all along the wall here in case of treachery. Captain, can I borrow some of your pikemen to defend the gates behind me?”
“I will lead them myself.”
“The rest of you stay inside the walls. If anything happens to me and I don’t make it back, take Lord Jeren and get the hell out of here.”
He waved aside the remaining protests and climbed down the stairs to the gate. Captain Walbend assembled a full squad of pikemen and led the way through the postern. Outside, the junior officer and the white flag had taken the spare horse and pulled back alongside the wagon while the squad of foot soldiers had moved forward and now formed a semicircle around their commander.
Walbend signalled his pikemen to form a corresponding semicircle and David stepped through their ranks into the fighting ring. He drew the katana and raised it in front of his face in salute.
“Lord Held, military commander of the Lyenar.”
The officer drew his own sword and returned the salute.
“Lord Courtney, commander of Duke Henry’s personal guard.”
Civilities over, both men dropped into a fighting stance and began to circle each other, probing for any weakness. Courtney’s sword was a wicked looking blade, slightly longer than the katana but David had the extra height and reach to cancel out that advantage. They touched blades a few times as each tried a tentative attack that was easily repulsed.
The first serious attack came from David with a flurry of lightning fast blows that forced the other man back almost to his circle of men. Then Courtney launched a counter attack that forced David into a hurried defence before launching a fresh attack of his own. The to and fro went on for several minutes with neither man gaining any significant advantage. Then David noticed the other man change his grip slightly and a faint blue glow outlined the length of the blade.
David leaped back a full pace as a fresh memory burst open in his mind. A power sword; totally illegal in this civilisation but utterly devastating against normal weapons and armour. He did not have time to think how he knew all that before Courtney began a fresh attack. This time David was at a serious disadvantage as he could no longer use the katana to block the full weight of a blow. A power sword could probably slice straight through even the superbly tempered steel of the katana.
He was forced to use his agility to save himself more than once, deflecting blows to the side rather than attempting to block them and he could feel himself tiring. A deflected blow to the side did not quite go far enough and, as he tried to spin away, the power sword caught him just under the ribs, slicing cleanly through the mithril chainmail and into his flesh. Now he had blood loss to contend with as well as fatigue. The end had to come soon.
The grin on Courtney’s face spread even wider at the sight of the blood and he charged forward again, sword raised high over his head. This time David had no choice but to use the katana to block the blow and, as he had feared, the power sword sliced straight through the blade about a hand’s breadth from the hilt. He threw himself to the ground as the blow came down but, instead of rolling away as Courtney had anticipated, he rolled towards the other man and jabbed the remaining part of the katana into the other man’s groin with a savage twist.
Blood poured from Courtney’s leg in great spurts as he sank to one knee. It was a mortal wound and both men knew it but the power sword was still danger
ous. Both men staggered to their feet and this time David had the advantage. Courtney lurched towards him and swung the sword in a wide arc but David swayed back and then followed in behind the blade to prevent the return swing. He kicked at Courtney’s damaged leg and the man went down with David on top of him. There was a wild look in Courtney’s eyes as he tried to raise the sword but David jabbed down with the remains of the katana, just below the laces of the other man’s helm and it was all over.
Duke Henry’s men started to surge forward but stopped short as half a dozen arrows thudded into the ground in front of them. Walbend barked an order and the pikemen lowered their weapons to the ready position and stepped forward a pace. The horsemen by the wagon looked at the situation and then wheeled their horses around and headed for the safety of the trees. The two men on the driver’s seat jumped down and ran after them closely followed by the rest of the soldiers.
Walbend ran over to help David to his feet as Feynor and the others poured out through the gates.
“I’ll be alright,” David said as he collapsed to his knees again. “Get that family inside the gates and bring me that man’s sword. I want it. And be careful to only touch the hilt; it’s a dangerous weapon.”
They loaded David on the back of the wagon as it passed through the gates. Feynor went with him to keep pressure on the wound as David finally lapsed into unconsciousness. The other men stayed on the walls to watch as the enemy camp was dismantled and the soldiers disappeared back up the highroad. When the last of the enemy had left, Jeren and the other officers lined up to shake Walbend’s hand and thank him for everything he had done. Finally, Jeren went to speak to Maxten. He hauled him to his feet and made him look over the parapet.
“You see, my lord, what can be achieved if you stand up for yourself. Your captain is an excellent man; trust his judgement. And when we retake our homeland, the twin cities of Marmoros and Highport will form a trading axis that will dominate the world. You have the opportunity to become wealthy beyond anything you have ever imagined but you have to maintain your independence and your neutrality. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Ah yes, I think so.”
Jeren shook his head even as he shook Maxten’s hand.
“Farewell, my lord. We will meet again. You can count on it.”
At Feynor’s insistence, the family whipped up the horses and raced through the city to the Keldis gate. The main camp had been established a couple of leagues further on, where the roads to Kell and Yarford diverged. The wagon raced into the camp with Feynor yelling for Marta.
The three women, Marta, Leyla and Mo arrived together and quickly stripped David of the mithril armour and his undershirt. Marta examined the wound carefully and pronounced her opinion that none of the major organs had been damaged. So she cleaned the wound and stitched it up before David could regain consciousness. An improvised stretcher was put together and they supervised the transfer to their own wagon where Leyla and Mo took turns to watch over him.
Feynor stood in for David at the council meeting later that morning, when Jeren and the others arrived from the city. The argument revolved around whether they should head towards Kell and meet with Duke Theron before moving towards Marmoros or take the more direct route via Yarford. Contact had been made with the other two Lyenar villages; one in Keldis and the other in Westron. Both had agreed to meet with Jeren and both had suggested Yarford as the most appropriate place and so the decision was made to head towards Yarford and wait for the others to arrive.
By the time David awoke, it was late afternoon and the rain was hammering down on the roof of the wagon as it swayed slowly along the road.
“Where are we?” he croaked.
“You’re safe, David,” Leyla said as she raised a cup of water to his lips.
He took a sip. “Thank you for that, my darling Leyla and if I am here with you, I know that I am safe. But where are we and where are we heading?”
“We’re on the road to Yarford, David. The council decided this morning. Now, if you’re going to be alright for a few minutes, I have to go and tell Lady Falaise that you’re awake. She insisted on being told.”
Falaise arrived about ten minutes later, hood pulled up to protect her long brown hair and water dripping off her cloak.
“How are you feeling, David?” she asked softly.
“I’m fine, thank you Falaise. I’ve had far worse. I’ll be up and around tomorrow.”
“You’ll get up when Marta tells you and not a minute before,” she told him. “You lost a lot of blood.”
He started to protest but fell silent as Falaise threw back her hood and glared at him.
“Don’t look at me like that. I get enough of that from Marta.”
“It’s no more than you deserve, risking your life like that. But the council have asked me to thank you for getting our people safely through Highport. When we meet with the other groups in Yarford, we can plan how we are going to recapture Marmoros.”
Chapter 19
Boarding the Santa Joanna had been an experience for all the youngsters and even Josep and Agnes had only ever undertaken one sea voyage before. The Santa Joanna turned out to be a small two masted brig that looked somewhat the worse for wear. It was, however, small enough to tie up at one of the wharves stretching out into the bay which allowed them to drive their wagons down the pier alongside the ship.
They unhitched the horses who were swayed aboard first, down into the hold where temporary stalls had been rigged to accommodate them. The bales of bedding and feed for the horses which Josep had bought for the voyage, had already been loaded into the hold. Next the wagons were swayed aboard, one by one, and lashed to the deck. The wagons would have no protection from the weather or from seas breaking across the deck and so the ladies had wrapped everything they could in bundles of oilcloth and canvas. The more precious possessions and vulnerable trading goods were taken below to the hold but space there was extremely limited and most of their goods had to remain in the wagons.
There was no accommodation for passengers on the brig, so they would all have to sleep either in or under their wagons. Agnes had been out and bought quilted jackets and leggings for everybody with oilskin overcoats that reached down to their ankles. It was, she said, just a precaution and they would be able to sell them again once they reached Kell.
Angelo and his family had accompanied them down to the quayside and the farewells had been tinged with a variety of emotions. Everybody was still filled with the excitement of the adventure they were about to undertake but sad at the parting of friends. One by one they thanked Angelo and Maria for the hospitality they had been shown and Seb tried again to apologise for the incident with Oscar Cortes.
“Don’t apologise to me, Seb,” Angelo said looking towards Teresa. “In my eyes you have done nothing wrong.”
“Thank you for saying that, sir. I may not have done anything wrong but in my heart, I don’t think I did enough right.”
“If you’re talking about your heart, young man, you are definitely talking to the wrong person,” Angelo smiled, giving him a push in the direction of his daughter.
Seb took Teresa’s hands in his and stood silently looking at her for a long moment.
“What, have you nothing to say to me, Seb?” she asked eventually.
“I just wanted to burn this image of you into my mind and into my heart, so that I can carry it with me always, until I can come back to you.”
“Even with a scar down my cheek?”
“Even with that, you are the most beautiful woman in the entire world. And you never know. Where we are going now, I shall have to fight for my living. By the time I come back, I may have a scar on my face that will outdo yours.”
“Just make sure you do come back, Seb,” she whispered and kissed him swiftly on the cheek.
There was no more time for farewells then as the captain was anxious to make the afternoon tide and so they all hurried aboard.
If boarding was an experience, life on-board a sea going vessel was a bewildering combination of sights, sounds and smells. The brig was square rigged on the main and fore masts with lateen sails rigged fore and aft for manoeuvrability. Once they were clear of the quay, the ship became a hive of activity with seamen racing from one position to the next, rigging sails at the shouted commands of the captain and his mates.
The ship was never silent. Apart from the sound that the bare feet of the rushing seamen made on the deck, the ship continually creaked and groaned as the wind shifted slightly and altered the tension in the rigging. The tang of salt in the air was refreshing at first but quickly became overpowered by the more familiar smell of horse shit. They all had to take turns at mucking out the stalls below; hauling buckets of manure to the deck to go over the side. Leeside, as they were swiftly told by an irate mate the first time they nearly got it wrong.
Rachel and Seb looked at each other in bewilderment. “That was the side we used yesterday,” Rachel said. “So which is the leeside?”
“Depends on which way the wind’s blowing,” a friendly sailor told them as he passed. “Leeside is where the wind’s blowing away from the ship. So all that muck don’t blow back onto the side of the ship where we got to clean it.”
The weather was kind to them for the first three days out of Puerto Reis. The seas were relatively calm and everyone except Beth, quickly gained their sea legs. On the fourth day, however, the wind started to pick up from the south and dark clouds began to build up on the horizon. The course they were steering was southeast to round Cape Spire before heading up the more sheltered Western Sea towards Kell. But when he saw the storm building, the captain altered course due east to try to hit the coast early and find a sheltered bay to ride it out.