Nimrood smiled expansively. “I will choose the time and the place. Leave all to me. But I will need six of your temple guard-six who know how to obey and to keep secrets concealed.”
“You shall have them. What else?”
“Nothing, for now.” Nimrood stood slowly. “Only a place to rest and a morsel to eat. Then I will be on my way.”
“Very well. Tell the priest waiting outside what you require. He will arrange everything for you. I will go and choose the men who are to accompany you.”
Nimrood dipped his head and then went out. The High Priest sat for a moment in his chair, still staring blankly into the shadows. Then he drew his robes close around as a chill shivered through him, for the room had grown quite cold.
The afternoon sun shone a hazy gold as it sank below the green, tree-lined hills. The road bent down into low valleys, sinking into cool shadow. On the crest of the hill the small traveling party stopped.
“Yonder lies Askelon my Lady,” said Wilkins, one of Lady Esme’s traveling companions, “and a fair sight it is.”
Esme filled her pale blue eyes with the glittering scene before her. Askelon Castle, its towers and turrets find by the golden rays of the setting sun, sparkled like a jewel. The great walls stood strong, impenetrable, glowing red in the fading light.
She shivered, remembering another time when she sat astride a horse exactly this spot and gazed upon the castle standing just so in another sunset long ago. Nothing has changed, she thought. Oh, what folly! Everything has changed; me most of all.
“I may have been wrong to leave,” she said finally, speaking softly to herself. “But I have returned. Perhaps I can make a new beginning.”
Without another word Esme gathered the reins and started down the hill into the valley. Sensing food and water and a warm stall at hand, her horse began to trot and then to gallop along the road. The others behind her joined in the race and soon they were all flying toward Askelon, their jubilant voices ringing through the dells.
They reached the village below the walls and clattered through the streets, hardly slowing at all. Then they were over the drawbridge, through the drawbridge jogging to a halt in the ward yard, where squires scampered to take the horses and lead them to the stables.
“Esme! You are here!” There was a shout behind her, and she turned to see Bria emerging from a doorway across the yard. Two little noses poked out from either side of their mother’s skirts, their eyes glittering.
Esme knelt down and held out her arms. “Come here, my darlings!” she called, and was instantly smothered in giggles and kisses. “And how big you have grown!” she said in amazement “Oh, I have missed you so!” She kissed both girls and hugged them tight Then she stood and embraced their mother. “Bria, it is wonderful to see you.”
The two women clung for a long moment and then stepped back to view each other at arm’s length. “Esme, you are more beautiful than ever. You are! It is…” A tear formed in Bria’s eye. “I have missed you so much!”
“And I you. You have no idea how good it feels to be here at last. I have wanted to come many times, but-”
Bria caught up her hands and pulled her away, saying, “Come! There is much to talk about. Leave your things for now; I will have them brought up to your rooms.” She turned to address the others in Esme’s traveling party. “Please, you are our welcome guests. Rest; take your ease from your long journey. If you like, you may dine with us in the banquet hall this evening. Or if you would prefer, food will be sent to your rooms.”
Wilkins bowed low. “Your Highness, my Lady has told us so much about you and about this place, we are all eager to see it. We will join you as soon as we have washed the dust of the road from ourselves. I, for one, wish to meet the Dragon King. His name is renowned in the land.” The others nodded their agreement.
“I am sure my husband will welcome the news you bring. I will send the chamberlain directly to lead you to your rooms.”
Esme said, “Chloe, you may remain with me.” A slim brown-haired young woman dressed in riding clothes like Esme’s stepped shyly forward. She curtsied to the Queen, then held out two bundles to her mistress.
“Ah, yes. I almost forgot!” said Esme, taking the packages. “I have brought something for my little friends.”
The Princesses squealed in delight. “Presents!” they cried. Esme handed them each a bundle tied in bright silk. “Oh, thank you! Thank you!” Both girls kissed her and then ran off to open their gifts.
“They are treasures, Bria. Treasures.”
“That they are. But come, you must be exhausted. Your rooms are ready and waiting for you.” She led Esme away and smiled at Chloe who fell silently in behind them. “Both of you can rest a little before dinner.”
The Queen led them from the ward yard into the corridor of the inner curtain and into the castle itself. Along the way they talked about the journey and all that the travelers had seen. When finally they reached the Queen’s apartments, Bria announced, “You will be staying here, Esme. I want you close. Rest now and refresh yourselves. Water has been prepared
“You are so kind, Bria. Thank you. But now that I am here, fatigue seems to have vanished. I want only to sit with you and have a long talk,”
“Oh, we shall, Esme. We must have many long talks before I am satisfied.” She paused and added on a more somber note, “You have often been in my thoughts.”
“Thank you. And you have often been in mine. Yes, we have much to talk about.”
Quentin and Toli were standing with Wilkins just inside the wide open doors to the banqueting hall. Others stood a little way off, talking among themselves, awed to be in the presence of the King himself. Wilkins enthusiastically recounted the Journey to Askelon and related the news he had heard along the way.
Quentin, happy to entertain guests-for it had been some time since the cattle had held foreign visitors-pumped the willing man for information which was happily supplied.
“When do you return?” Quentin asked. “Surely you will stay for the hunt.”
“I have heard of the King’s Hunt!” exclaimed Wilkins. “In truth, I was hoping to be invited. Many of the villages we passed through on our way here told us of the hunt. Most described it as a most exceptional event.”
“It is more festival than hunt,” explained Toli. “There will be games of skill, minstrels, and a circus. Three days of celebration are given to it. People come from across all Mensandor to take part, or just to watch.”
“What is the occasion of this festival?” asked Wilkins.
“I do not know,” laughed the King. “The reason lies buried in the past. Tradition has it that the hunt was begun in Celbercor’s time. He used it as a means of helping recruit knights into his service. Legend tells that if a man could kill three boars in a day without dismounting or changing horses, he was made a knight before the sun set!”
“The hunt was not held in later years-while Eskevar was away at war. But we revived the custom,” said Toli.
“Yes, it was all Toli’s doing!” said Quentin. “He wanted to display his horses! What better way than a hunt?”
Wilkins nodded knowingly. “These horses of yours, master-I have heard of them also. Even in faraway Elsendor the Dragon King’s horses are highly regarded.”
Just then there was a motion in the doorway, and Quentin looked up to see Queen Bria and Lady Esme step into the hall. Both were wearing light summer gowns of sendai: Bria’s was rose and Esme’s russet. He smiled broadly and went up to them. “Good evening, my love.” He kissed his wife. “Esme, I am so glad you have come. It is happiness itself to see you.” He pulled her to him in a fond embrace and kissed her cheek. “Welcome. I hope you have come prepared to remain with us a long time.”
“Thank you, Quentin. You are looking fit as ever. Bria tells me the work on the temple continues apace.” Her eyes darted away from his momentarily.
“Yes,” replied Quentin. “The work goes on. But we can talk of that later. I imagi
ne you would like to greet-” He turned, casting a quick glance behind him. “Where has he disappeared to all of a sudden? He was here but a moment ago.”
“Who, my lord?”
“Toli! He was…” He gestured to the spot where Toli and Wilkins had gone. “Well, he is still as shy as the deer he grew up with. I am certain he will want to greet you in private, later.”
From the other end of the hall kitchen servants entered, carrying huge platters of food: venison and pork, roast fowl and game, freshly picked vegetables, and round loaves of brown bread hot from the oven.
“Let us be seated,” said Bria. Already the benches on either side of the long lower table were being filled. Esme’s traveling company had found friends among the courtiers of the king’s household. A wandering bard bad been invited to attend the meal and was now moving among the guests at tables, singing nonsense rhymes and taking requests for stories he would tell after dinner. Laughter followed him as he moved along the tables.
The great room was bright and the spirit cheerful. “See what your coming has done?” cried Quentin, leading them to the high table. “I have not seen such good humor in… well, in many a season.”
“You are kind, Quentin. But it is well known that the Dragon King’s table is ever gracious and that merriment abounds.” Esme glanced around her, and her face took on a lighter aspect. “It is just as I remembered it… just as I hoped it would be.”
Bria pressed her hand and drew her to a chair. Durwin entered and approached them, making many apologies for being late, and then greeted Lady Esme with a warm hug. As they talked, Quentin looked for Toli, who usually sat beside him, opposite the Queen.
He found the Jher, head to head with Wilkins, sitting at the far end of the high table. They were deep in conversation, oblivious to all that was going on around them.
Quentin looked to the lower table; all eyes were on him, waiting for him to begin. He reached out and took a piece of bread, broke it, and put it on his silver trencher, nodding to his guests. At once they began to eat; platters were passed, cups filled, and glad conversation bubbled forth.
While they ate, the bard approached the high table. He bowed to the King and said, “Your majesty, is there a ballad you wish told? You have but to name it and Larksong is at your service.”
“Something befitting the lively mood of this summer’s eve,” declared Quentin. “Let brave knights and their bold deeds wait until another time. Tonight I would hear a lighter tale, one to make the heart rejoice.”
“If it is good cheer you wish, sire, I know just the thing!” He bowed again, saying, “Excuse me now. I must retire to compose the lyric.”
How great an honor to be a King, thought Quentin. Truly a very great honor. Indeed I am blessed.
He looked down upon his guests and shared their amusement and high spirits. Life is good in Mensandor; all is well in the realm. He felt his heart fill with happiness and swell almost to bursting, so deep was his joy.
FIVE
THE PALE moon had risen fair in the sky, throwing down a silvery radiance upon all below. Toli stood alone on the bartizan outside the banquet hall, overlooking a portion of the garden. Laughter drifted out of the hall through the open doors, and flickering torchlight from the hall splashed the stones and turned them to gold.
The bard Larksong sang his ballads to the high acclaim of all gathered inside. Toli could hear his strong voice lifted up in song, but could not catch the words which were drowned now and again in waves of laughter. At the end of a song or story there came clamorous applause and cries for more.
But Toli did not attend to what was taking place inside. He had grown uncomfortable and slipped away quietly to be alone. No one, he thought, had seen him go. He breathed the soft night air and wondered what he would do when he met her once again.
He did not have long to wonder. He heard the sound of a soft brushing tread, turned, and she was there, standing in the doorway, the light framing her, shining all around her. A sharp pang arrowed through him. He turned away.
Then she was beside him. He smelled her delicate scent, warm and pleasing. Her nearness burned him with a glowing heat.
“Ah,” she sighed, “how peaceful and cool here. The hall, for all its light and laughter, grows stale.” She spoke softly. He did not reply. Then she touched his arm, and he felt a flame leap through him. “Hello, Toli,” she whispered. “I saw you leave the hall.”
He turned toward her. “Esme…” He could think of nothing to say. She, with the moonlight in her eyes and shining on her long dark tresses, was even more lovely than he remembered. And she had come back.
Esme laid her fingertips to his lips. Her touch was cool. “Shh. You do not need to speak. This is awkward for me, too.”
Toli stared at the woman he had loved. Why? he wanted to scream. Why did you leave me? What made you go? And now, after so many years, why have you returned?
But he said nothing, only turned away again. Esme felt the distance between them as a physical presence: a risen wall of bristling emotion which she could not breach. Suddenly all that she had kept locked away in her heart for so long came rushing forth. Her throat tightened. Her hands quivered. She bent her head, and tears began to fall.
There was a movement beside her. “Toli, I-” she began, then glanced up. He was gone.
Inside the hall Larksong held his listeners in thrall. He was in high form, bowing to cascades of applause, his broad, good-natured face beaming from beneath his wide, low-crowned hat with its long green plume. He allowed the acclamation to wash over him and then, as it started to die away, held up his hands for silence and began to sing.
“In fair Mensandor,
On a summer’s eve, When all the hills are wearing green, Give an ear, my lords and ladies,
To the tale I’ll weave-Of bold Quentin and his Queen!”
This was greeted with shouts of laughter and ringing cheers, for now the King would be celebrated for their amusement. Larksong bowed low and began, his voice rising in clear tones to tell his tale. It was a song about a King who sought the hand of the most beautiful woman in the realm and found her in the daughter of his enemy.
The song was an old one, of course, known to all who heard it. But Larksong sang it well, inventing new verses which played upon Quentin’s and Bria’s names and the well-known events of their lives. The listeners sat captivated-enraptured from start to finish.
When at last the Quentin of the story won his bride’s hand and made peace with his enemy, a resounding cheer went up throughout the hall.
“Well done!” they cried. “More! More! Sing it again!” Everyone shouted their praise and cried for more, though the evening was growing late. But Larksong took off his hat and made a sweeping bow to all assembled.
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, one and all!” He bowed to the King. “My songs are finished this night. Perhaps I may come again.”
“Yes, come again!” they cried. “Come tomorrow!”
Larksong looked inquiringly at the King. Quentin nodded his approval, and all his guests added theirs. And then reluctantly-for it had been a wonderful night-the people began to leave.
Quentin rose. “Oh, my sides are sore for laughing! What a night! What a night.” He peered around. “Now where has Toli gone? I would speak with him.”
“I think he is occupied at present,” replied Bria. “Come along. Speak with him tomorrow.”
“Esme?”
“Who did you think? Come along.” Bria tugged on his arm and led him away. They left the hall and the servants began dousing the torches, giving the great room over to the night.
No sooner had they reached their chambers when a knock sounded upon the door. “Who can that be?” asked Quentin. He opened the door to see Esme’s companion, Chloe, wringing her hands and tugging at her apron.
“Sire, I-” She stared past him to Bria. “My Lady, I do not know what to do.”
Bria stepped forward. “What is it, Chloe? What is wrong?”
/> “My Lady,” she curtsied. “I… could you come?”
“What is it?” demanded Quentin.
“My Lord,” said Bria, “go and see to the children. Tell them good night. I will look in a little later. Go on now. I will take care of this.” She eased past Quentin and closed the door behind her.
“Where is she?”
“In her rooms. She returned some time ago and has been weeping ever since. I can do nothing for her. Oh, my Lady! I have never seen her this way. Even when my lord-Lord Rathnor-was angry with her, she did not carry on so. I am afraid-”
“Calm yourself, my dear. All will be well. Have no fear.” When they entered Esme’s apartments, Bria could hear someone sobbing in the chamber beyond. “Stay here, Chloe. I will go in to her,” she said softly, and moved to the door. She knocked gently. There was no answer. She opened the door and went in.
Esme lay facedown on the bed, her shoulders heaving, the sobs welling up from deep inside her. Bria sat down on the huge high bed beside her. She placed her hand on her friend’s shoulder, feeling instinctually the depths of her misery.
“Esme, I am here. I am with you. Tell me what has happened.” It was a time before Esme could talk. But at last Bria got her to sit up, dry her eyes, and tell her what had taken place.
“Oh, Bria!” she sniffed, her eyes wet from crying. She twisted a damp handkerchief in her hands. “He hates me! Despises me! And I do not blame him. I should not have come hoping to… Oh, I should never have come.”
“There, now. Toli does not hate you.” Bria said his name; she had guessed what had happened. “I am certain of it. You know how he is.”
“He ran from me. I went out to him, and he left without a word!” Her lips trembled and she seemed on the verge of another torrent of tears, but took a deep breath and kept them down. “Oh, Bria, how I must have hurt him. I thought-I thought… Oh, I do not know what I thought. I was wrong to come here. I was never born for happiness.”
“Nonsense. Do not talk so!” chided Bria. “You are welcome here; it can never be wrong to come where you are loved and cared for. As for Toli, perhaps it was a mistake to approach him so openly. Obviously, we will need to plan very carefully how best to win him back. But unless I am far wrong, he does not hate you. Never say it. If we could see inside his heart, we would see his love for you has never waned.”
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