'Erak Oberjarl,' The one they call the Oberjarl,' the Arridi eyed him.
Impulsively, Axel took a pace forward, raising his axe threateningly.
'You'll have to go through the rest of us to take him!' he shouted defiantly. Erak heaved a deep sigh and shook himself in irritation.
'Well done, Axel,' he said. 'You've just told them I'm here.'
Chapter 6
Undoubtedly Baron Arald thought, with a deep sense of pride and satisfaction, this would go down as the wedding of the year. Perhaps of the decade.
Already, it had all the hallmarks of a roaring success. The Bores' Table was well attended with a group of eight people, currently vying to see who could be the most uninteresting, overbearing and repetitive. Other guests glanced in their direction, giving silent thanks to the organisers who had separated them from such dreadful people.
There had been the inevitable tearful flouncing and shrill recriminations when the girlfriend of one of the younger warriors from Sir Rodney's Battleschool had caught her boyfriend kissing another girl in a darkened corridor. It wouldn't be a wedding reception without that, Arald thought. He sighed with contentment as he surveyed the colourful scene in Redmont's dining hall, where brightly dressed couples sat at tables, while Master Chubb's minions hurried through the room, delivering a bewildering variety of delicious foods: roasted meats and fowls, platters of steaming vegetables, spiced specialities of the kitchen, amazing and fantastic creations in pastry so light that it seemed to explode into feather-light fragments at the first taste. And, he thought with immense satisfaction, there were puddings and fruit yet to come!
The ceremonial side of the day had gone off perfectly, he thought, thanks in no small measure to his own performance as celebrant. He felt that his rich and carrying tones as he recited the marriage formula to the happy couple had added just the right touch of gravitas to the proceedings.
As one would expect of a seasoned orator like himself, he had lightened the mood with a particularly witty sally about the secret passion that had burned between Halt and Lady Pauline for these past twenty years – a passion apparently unremarked by anyone save himself. The joke was based around a rather clever play on words in which he referred to Pauline's unceasing affection for the often absent Ranger as her 'love without halt'.
He had paused after the joke to allow the audience a few moments to laugh. The fact that nobody did was a mild disappointment. Perhaps, he thought, his humour was too subtle for the masses.
Pauline, of course, had been a stunningly beautiful bride.
The woman's poise and taste were unsurpassed in the Kingdom. When she appeared at the bottom of the aisle in Redmont's audience hall, attended by young Alyss and Jenny, there had been a mass intake of breath from those assembled – a muted 'Aaaah' that ran around the room.
Her gown was white, of course, a clever formal variation on the elegant Courier's uniform that she normally wore. Simplicity, he thought. That was the key to good fashion. He glanced down at his own purple velvet doublet, decorated in bright blue and gold diamond-shaped lozenges, highlighted by silver embroidery, and had a moment of doubt that perhaps it was just a shade too busy. Then he dismissed the thought. The bulkier male figure could stand a little extra embellishment, he decided.
But Pauline had really been stunning. With her grey-blonde hair swept up on her head and a simple gold necklace at her throat, she had glided down the central aisle like a veritable goddess. Her attendants were suitably alluring as well. Alyss, equally tall and elegant, wore a variation on her mentor's gown, but in pale blue. Her blonde hair was down, falling naturally to her shoulders. Young Jenny, the second bridesmaid, couldn't compete with the other two for height and elegance. But she had her own charm. Small, with a rounded figure and a wide friendly grin, she seemed to bounce down the aisle where the others glided. Jenny brought a natural sense of exuberance and fun to any proceedings, Arald thought. Her yellow gown reflected her sunny disposition and approach to life.
As for the groom's party, Crowley had really come up trumps. Naturally, everyone had been wondering what Halt would wear. After all, nobody could remember seeing him in anything other than the muted greens, browns and greys of a Ranger's cloak. Discussion reached fever pitch when it was heard that, a few days before the wedding, he had actually visited Redmont's barber for a haircut and beard trim.
Then Crowley had revealed his surprise – an official formal uniform for the Ranger Corps that would be worn for the first time at the wedding by Halt, Will, Gilan and himself.
In keeping with Ranger tradition, the basic colour was 'green – a dark, leaf green. In place of their dull brown,'jerkins and breeches and cowled camouflage cloaks, each Ranger wore a belted sleeveless tunic over a white silken shirt. The tunics were made from finest leather and all of which were the same rich leaf green. High on the left breast, woven in metallic thread, was a miniature oakleaf insignia – silver for Halt, Gilan and Crowley, bronze for Will.
Dark green breeches and brown, knee-high boots in soft leather added to the effect, while the broad belt that tethered the tunic at the waist supported an orrnate version of the Ranger's standard issue double scabbard. The model was black and shining and chased with silver
Halt's contained two specially made knives, a saxe and a throwing knife. They were both perfectly balanced and the hilts were chased in silver as well. They were Crowley's wedding gift to his old friend.
'I know you won't wear them in the field,' he'd said, but keep them for formal occasions.' He, Gilan and Will wore their day-to-day, utilitarian weapons.
The final touch, everyone agreed, was a small piece of genius. If Rangers were known for anything it was their ''mottled cloaks" – a garment into which they could rtually disappear when the need arose. Such a cloak could be out of place at a formal occasion, so Crowley had placed it with an item that reflected the sense of the original. Each Ranger wore a short cape. Made in dull satin, it bore the mottled green-brown-grey pattern of the cloak, with an arrangement of four stylised arrows, picked out in silver thread, running diagonally down it. The cape was offset to hang from the right shoulder, reaching only to the waist. In one stroke, it represented the cloak and the quiver of arrows that all Rangers wore at their right shoulder. Everyone agreed that the four Rangers looked impressive and handsome in these new uniforms. Simple and stylish once again, thought Arald, and suffered another momentary qualm about his own outfit.
He turned to his wife, the very beautiful, red-headed Lady Sandra, beside him and gestured at the brightly coloured doublet.
'My dear,' he said, 'you don't think I'm a bit… too much in this, do you?'
'Too much, darling?' she repeated, trying to hide a smile. He made a doubtful little gesture.
'You know… too colourful… overstated. Coming the peacock, as it were?'
'Do you feel overstated, my lord?' she asked.
'Well, no. But perhaps… '
'You are Baron of Redmont, after all,' she said, now managing a completely straight face. He looked down at himself, considered carefully, then, reassured, nodded his thanks to her.
'No. Of course not. You're right, my dear. As ever. My position deserves a little bit of pomp and show, I suppose. No… you're right. I'm perfectly fine. Just the right tone, in fact.'
This time, Lady Sandra had to turn away, finding something urgent to say to the person sitting on her apposite Arald, reassured now that he hadn't committed a fashion gaffe, went back to his musing over events so far.
After the official ceremony, the guests had proceeded from the audience hall to the dining hall and taken their seats. Tables had been carefully placed with regard to rank.
The wedding party was seated centrally on the dais, of course. Arald, Lady Sandra, Sir Rodney and the rest of the Redmont officials were to their left at another table. The King, as Patron-Sponsor of the event, occupied a third table, along with Princess Cassandra and his entourage.
When people had taken their places beh
ind their chairs, those at the three tables on the dais entered and stood ready – wedding party first, then the royal party, then Arald's group. King Duncan motioned for the room to sit; there was a scraping of chairs throughout the huge hall.
Duncan remained standing. When the commotion of shifting chairs and shuffling feet finally died down, he spoke, his deep voice carrying easily to all corners. 'My lords, ladies, gentlemen… ' he began, then, seeing every doorway into the room crowded with faces belonging to castle staff and servants, he added with a grin, and people of Redmont Castle.' There was a ripple of amusement through the room. 'Today I have the honour of being Patron-Sponsor of this very happy event.'
Arald had leaned forward attentively and craned round to see the King at the other side of the dais. This position of Patron-Sponsor was new to him. He had been wondering for some weeks now what it entailed. Perhaps now he would find out.
'I must admit,' Duncan continued, 'I was a little puzzled to know what the duties of a Patron-Sponsor might be. So I consulted with my Chamberlain, Lord Anthony – a man for whom the mysteries of protocol are an open book.'
He indicated his Chamberlain, who inclined his head gravely in response.
'Apparently, a Patron-Sponsor's duties are relatively clear cut.' He reached into the cuff of his sleeve and produced a small sheet of parchment on which he had written notes. 'As Patron-Sponsor, I am charged with,' he paused and consulted the notes, 'adding a sense of royal cachet to proceedings today.'
He waited while a ripple of conversation ran round the room. Nobody was quite sure what adding a sense of royal cachet really meant. But everyone agreed that it sounded impressive indeed. Lady Pauline's mouth twitched in a smile and she looked down at the table. Halt found something of vast interest in the ceiling beams high above. Duncan continued.
'My second duty is… ' again he consulted his notes to make sure he had the wording correct, 'to provide an extremely expensive present to the bride and groom… '
Lady Pauline's head jerked up at that. She leant forward and turned to make eye contact with Lord Anthony. The Chamberlain met her gaze, his face completely devoid of expression. Then, very slowly, one eyelid slid down in a wink. He liked Pauline and Halt a great deal and he'd added that duty without consulting them. After certain events in the past, he thought he owed at least that much to Halt.
'And finally,' Duncan was saying, 'it is my duty to declare this celebration officially open. Which I now do, with great delight. Chubb! Bring on the feast!'
And, as the assembled throng cheered, he sat down and the feasting began.
***
'I liked your speech,' Alyss said to Will, as the puddings were cleared away. He shrugged.
'I hope it was all right,' he said. As best man, he had proposed the toast to Halt and Lady Pauline. It was a mark of his growing maturity, thought Alyss, that he had the confidence to speak from the heart of his deep affection for his teacher and friend. As a member of the Diplomatic Service, she was a trained speaker herself and she had admired the way he hadn't shied away from voicing his true feelings, yet avoided cheap sentimentality. She'd glanced once at Halt during the speech and saw the grim-faced Ranger furtively wiping his eye with a napkin.
'It was a lot better than all right,' she assured him.
Then, as she saw him starting to grin, she jogged him with her elbow. 'What?'
'I was just thinking, I can't wait to see Halt in the bridal dance with Pauline. He's not known for his fancy stepping. He should be quite a sight to behold. A total fumble foot!'
'Is that right?' she said dryly. 'And how do you think you'll manage it?'
'Me?' he said in some surprise. 'I won't be dancing! It's the bridal dance. The bride and groom dance alone!'
'For one circuit of the room,' she told him. 'After which they are joined by the best man and first bridesmaid, then the groomsman and second bridesmaid.'
Will reacted as if he had been stung. He leant forward to speak across Jenny, on his left, to Gilan.
'Gil! Did you know we have to dance?' he asked. Gilan nodded enthusiastically.
'Oh yes indeed. Jenny and I have been practising for the past three days, haven't we, Jeri?'
Jenny looked up at him adoringly and nodded. Jenny was in love. Gilan was tall, dashing, good looking, charming and very amusing. Plus he was cloaked in the mystery and romance that came with being a Ranger. Jenny had only ever known one Ranger and that had been grim-faced, grey-bearded Halt.
Well, there was Will, of course. But he was an old friend and held no sense of mystery for her. But Gilan! He was beautiful, she thought.
And he was hers for the rest of the reception, she promised herself.
Will felt a sense of panic as he heard the orchestra playing the opening bars of Together forever, the traditional bridal dance. Halt and Pauline rose from their seats and people stood and applauded, craning to watch as he led her down the stairs from the dais to the main floor, where a space had been cleared for dancing.
'Well, I'm not dancing,' Will said through gritted teeth. 'I don't know how.'
'Oh yes you are,' Alyss told him. 'Let's hope you're a fast learner.'
He glanced at her and saw no prospect of escape. 'Well, at least I won't be the only one,' he said. 'Halt will be terrible too.'
But of course, what he and nobody else in the assembly knew was that for the past ten days, Halt had been having dance lessons from Lady Sandra. He had always been well balanced, co-ordinated and light on his feet, and it had 'taken just a few hours for the Baron's wife, an expert herself, to turn him into a consummate dancer. Now he and Pauline glided around the room as if they were born to dance together. There was a gasp of surprise from the crowd, then an enthusiastic roar of applause.
Will felt Alyss's surprisingly firm grip on his forearm as she stood and brought him to his feet beside her. Let's go, Fumblefoot,' she said.
There was no escape, Will knew. He preceded her down the stairs, giving her his arm as she descended. Then he turned to her uncertainly.
'Arm there,' she said. 'Other arm, idiot. Now hand there… okay, ready? We're going to start with your left foot. On three. One. Two… What the devil is he doing here?'
She was looking over his shoulder towards the main entrance to the hall, where a commotion had broken out. There was a huge, unkempt figure standing just inside the door, arguing with the servants posted there, who were trying to restrain him. His fleece jacket and horned helmet marked him as a Skandian. Heads had turned towards the noise and, already, Horace was heading down the aisle to take charge. But after a few paces, he stopped in surprise, recognising the man at the same time Will did.
'It's Svengal,' Will said.
Chapter 7
Horace reached the arguing group just inside the main door and quickly quietened things down, reassuring servants and guards that the Skandian was a friend, and not about to make a one-man attack on Castle Redmont. Will watched as the tall warrior spoke quickly to Svengal, then led him away to a side room. As they went, Horace turned, caught Will's eye and made an unmistakable gesture for him to join them.
Gradually, the people in the hall relaxed as it became apparent that the incident had been resolved and there was no immediate danger. The orchestra, which had tailed off at Svengal's appearance, picked up the melody once more and eyes returned to the bridal couple. Will saw that Halt and Lady Pauline had paused and were standing motionless in the middle of the dance floor. He crossed quickly to them.
'Finish the dance,' he said quietly. 'I'll take care of it.' Halt nodded his gratitude. The last thing he wanted was any kind of disruption to Lady Pauline's special day. 'Find out what he wants,' he said.
Will grinned. 'Maybe he's brought you a wedding.present.'
Halt jerked his head towards the back of the room. 'Get going,' he said. Will grinned again and turned away, taking Alyss's hand as he passed.
'Come on,' he said, leading her off the dance floor with him. He glanced up to catch Gilan's inqui
ring look as the tall Ranger led Jenny down from the dais. Will jerked his head towards Halt and Pauline and mouthed the words, Keep dancing.'
Gilan nodded. The less disruption to the normal run of events, the better, he realised.
Pauline saw the quick exchange between the two young Rangers, then watched as Will picked his way through the tables, Alyss accompanying him. From time to time, he would pause, smile at a question from one of the guests and make what appeared to be a reassuring comment. She admired the speed with which he had reacted, the way he was taking over the situation.
'He's growing up,' she said to Halt as they began to dance again. Gilan and Jenny now circled the floor with them as well. Then Duncan and Cassandra joined them, followed by the Baron and Lady Sandra. That was the signal for other dancers to crowd onto the floor. Within a few minutes, most people had forgotten that a travel-stained, weary Skandian had just crashed the wedding party.
King Duncan steered his way towards Halt and Pauline, Cassandra moving lightly in time with him.
'Halt? Any idea what's going on?' he said out of the corner of his mouth.
'Will's finding out now, your majesty,' Halt replied and the King nodded, satisfied.
'Keep me informed,' he said and he and Cassandra circled away. They were replaced by Arald and Sandra, as the Baron ploughed through the crowded dancers. Whereas Duncan and Cassandra had circled gracefully, Baron Arald took a direct route, rather like a purple, blue and gold battle-horse. Regretfully, Lady Sandra had never been able to pass on the finer points of the dancer's art to her husband.
'Halt?' he said as they approached.
'Will's checking, sir,' Halt told him and the Baron nodded.
'Good. Keep me informed.'
He and his wife moved off. Halt glanced quizzically at his partner, having to look up slightly to do so. Pauline was tall for a woman.
'As soon as I know anything myself,' he said.
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