by Anni Antoni
I took a deep breath. “Your brilliant, esteemed Eminence,” I began. “I merely did what you requested, giving you ample, good quality weapons and training more metalworkers for you. It has taken all my time. But I see we have made almost enough weapons for you to start your project and I was bringing the next level of my expertise to your attention.”
“I see,” said the Prince, raising an eyebrow and leaning back in his throne. “Your next level of expertise, eh? How many levels of expertise do you have?”
I didn’t know how to answer his question and stammered, “Your… Your…”
He cut me short with a wave of his hand.
“Never mind! You think you’re smart, don’t you? Don’t ever think you are smarter than me.” He fixed me with narrowed eyes for a few seconds, before continuing. “The Arbiter has seen your sword fighting skills on view in the courtyard, and told me they are exceptional. Is this so?” He kept drumming his fingers, increasing my nervousness, until I wanted to grab him and make him stop.
“I believe I'm the best sword fighter in this fort,” I said, quietly confident of my ability, if not of where I stood with him. “I can also train your soldiers to be much better swordsmen.”
The Prince drew himself up on his throne. A loud cynical laugh erupted from his fleshy red lips.
“Indeed? That is a huge claim. Can you prove your ability?” A malevolent grin spread across his face. “I’ll give you the opportunity, now. I’d like to see your demonstration. You amuse me with your claims.”
“Yes, I can prove it.” A calm certainty overtook me. At last we were getting somewhere. “If I can prove it to your satisfaction, there is something I request in return.”
“Go on, I’m listening,” said the Prince leaning forward in his throne, narrowing his small eyes further, to slits. “What is your request?”
“I request permission to take Bronson’s youngest daughter as my wife, and my own quarters, big enough for my wife and her parents,” I asked, still feeling confident.
The Prince barked his cynical laugh. “Granted. It’s yours if you pass my test.” He clapped his hands and three burly, grinning soldiers burst into the throne room, each bearing a sword and a spear.
My heart sank. I never thought for a moment he would want me to demonstrate my skills against real soldiers who looked like they meant business.
How stupid of me. I had been too busy thinking about Rachel.
Someone could get hurt and it wouldn’t be me. How could I avoid hurting the soldiers? My thoughts raced as I automatically moved into a defensive stance. I had to think of a way and still demonstrate my superior skills
The Prince leaned forward in his throne, grinning expectantly, his eyes glittering. Clearly, I was not meant to pass his test.
Chapter 15.
Proving His Worth
The Prince sneered. “You may stand, sword-maker. Here is your opportunity to pass the test.” He gave an excited, high-pitched snicker, like a horse neighing, at seeing me so outnumbered.
I stood, as the soldiers stalked further into the room.
The men fanned out, crouching low and ready for action. How could I render them incapable of fighting, without showing too much of my superior abilities? Getting wounded was best avoided too, in case my ability to heal quickly brought me unwanted attention. This could be tricky.
The Prince clapped his hands in delight “This will be amusing, Arbiter. I need entertainment today, to take my mind off things.” He laughed, throwing his head back, while the soldiers and I circled in front of him, taking the measure of each other.
The Prince thumped a foot on the ground. “Come on! Get to the action, men. Stop playing around and show me blood. To the death!”
Those words struck fear into my heart, not for myself but for the men lined up to attack me. I didn’t want to kill anyone. If I focused on disabling them first, giving the Prince a good show, maybe he would be satisfied.
The weapons they had were a strange combination, a clumsy, ill-considered choice. How would they choose which weapon to use in the dominant hand? Whichever weapon they placed in the dominant hand would probably be used first, I reasoned.
Each one carried the spear in their right hand, I noted. As I moved around the room, careful to keep all three in sight, I calculated their likely tactics. If they were all right-handed, they would probably use the spear first, then switch hands and use the sword.
One man threw a spear at me. Pleased my instincts were right, I dodged it easily, dancing nimbly out of the way, as it clattered noisily to the floor, out of reach. A second man ran at me with his spear raised and threw it from a very short distance. Deflecting it with the flat of my sword was too easy.
As I quickly sidestepped, I sent the spear to the far side of the large room with a flick of my wrist. Two spears effectively neutralized in a few seconds. Was I making this look too easy?
The two soldiers without spears closed in, with swords raised. I had to keep an eye on the third, who would probably throw his spear while the other two distracted me.
Making sure none of the men got behind me, I moved so my back was close to a wall. The two men with their swords raised ran at me. I thrust at them to get their measure.
They backed away, then moved forward, thrusting their swords at me in unison. Whether they planned it that way or not, it was a blessing, because with one deft stroke of my sword I disarmed them both.
I stopped and allowed the men to pick up their swords. I could not let myself win the battle too quickly or too easily. The Prince would not be impressed.
The two men scrambled to get their swords and for an instant I turned my back on them all, noting the man with the spear was preparing to throw it. I turned just as it left his hand and deflected it with the flat of my sword.
“Come on you pissing milk-sops,” yelled the Prince. “Try harder. I want blood!”
All three men facing me had their swords drawn, still grinning as if they thought they would win this match easily. Time to show a bit more of my expertise.
I ran at the nearest soldier, and engaged him in a round of rapid attacks and parries, maneuvering him around so his back was to the others and mine was away from the wall.
With a flick of my wrist, I took control of his sword and once again disarmed him. The sword flew away and came to a shuddering halt, point first in the floor. With the butt of my sword I hit him in the forehead and he fell in a heap, unconscious.
Everything happened so quickly that the other two left standing hadn’t moved.
Moving across to the sword stuck in the floor, I pulled it out. Now I had a sword in each hand, but unlike humans, I could use both hands equally.
So I engaged each man in a round of attacks and parries with both swords, one for each soldier. I lunged at them, parrying their attacks and thrusts together with a sword in each hand, dancing at lightning speed, out of the way of their swords.
Turning my back on them I walked away, fully expecting, no, inviting them, to charge and attack. I sensed when they moved and turned just in time to confront their swords raised within near striking distance.
It was an easy matter to flick the swords of one away and then the other with my swords. The soldiers were left standing without any weapons and shocked expressions on their faces. Momentum carried them forward, and I put my swords to their throats, demonstrating my mastery over them.
With lightning fast movements, I flung my swords aside, so we were all unarmed, grabbed each man by the hair and banged their heads together, instantly knocking them out. With all three floored, unconscious, I turned and bowed to the Prince.
“Very impressive, sword-maker,” he said, clapping slowly. “But you have not completed the task I set. My instructions were to the death.”
My heart raced and dread dried my mouth. I had never killed a human. It went against all my Guardian instincts.
“Your esteemed, eminence, I’m sorry,” I started. “I have clearly won. Surely you don't
expect me to kill these men when they are unconscious.” Nausea swept through me at the thought.
“You dare to argue with me?” The Prince roared, his anger at being questioned reddening his face. Spittle flew from between his lips. “Shall I get your family or the woman you want for your wife to come in and cheer you on?”
My blood ran cold and icy fingers of fear clutched at my spine. I knew what that meant. People I loved would be under threat. Like Pelle, I would not allow his attention to fall on my family, or Rachel, or her family.
I bowed low. “Please accept my apology, your extreme brilliance. The excitement of doing battle scrambled my wits, and I was not thinking straight.”
The men moved and groaned on the floor, regaining consciousness. I did what I had to do to protect my loved ones from a monster and plunged my sword into each man’s heart.
Bile rose in my throat as I did it, but I would not spare the life of a stranger to risk the life of any one of my family. Pelle had taught me the importance of that, and I respected him. Why should I question the soldiers’ destiny?
The Prince clapped as I murdered his men. And I didn’t know who I hated more – myself for performing the act or him for forcing me to.
“Well done.” The Prince turned to the Arbiter. “He passed my test Arbiter. I didn't expect that.” He giggled and stamped his feet on the floor in his excitement.
Leaning back in his throne, exhausted by his outpouring of excited emotion, he sighed and turned his attention back to me.
“Ah, sword-maker, you are indeed, as you claim, the best swordsman in the fort and I grant your requests.” The Prince sighed again and waved an impatient hand in the Arbiter’s direction. “Talk to my Arbiter about training the men and implementing your requests, but, take heed, you may have your new quarters only when the men go to battle. Now go, you are dismissed. It was an entertaining spectacle and I expect my men to be able to fight as well as you soon.”
“Thank you for the honor of serving you, my excellent, esteemed Leader,” I said, and, bowing my head, walked backwards to the door.
I had done it. I had passed his test and had permission to have Rachel as my wife. Now I would have my own quarters when I finished training the men.
Horror and disgust marred my victory. I had killed humans in the most cold-blooded way to achieve what I wanted, and could take no pride in what I had done. Victory felt hollow, empty, tainted by evil.
I reached the door, bowed again to the Prince, turned and left his quarters.
With a heavy heart, I headed home. Pelle, waiting for me to leave the Prince’s quarters, raced across the courtyard.
“Well?” he said. “Tell me, what happened? By the look on your face I would think something had gone wrong, but here you are, walking away without injury, and blood dripping from your sword. I know the Prince would have tested your ability. Tell me what happened Joshaviah.”
“I met his conditions and got my request granted,” I said, my voice flat.
“Praise the gods. Then why are you so miserable?” Pelle asked, clearly puzzled.
“I killed men, Pelle.” As I looked at him, tears sprang to my eyes. “I didn't want to kill anyone.” A single involuntary sob ripped through me.
Pelle placed an arm across my shoulders as we walked across the courtyard to our workspace.
“You killed soldiers, who expect to die. A soldier does not live to be an old man and I'm sure you killed them fairly. They would have killed you without hesitation, given the chance. You've done nothing wrong.”
“Then why do I feel such deep shame?” I asked, hanging my head.
Pelle had no answer. Instead, he focused on our work.
“Come Joshaviah,” he said. “Help me finish this round of sword making. Let hard work occupy your mind. We'll finish early. Then I will arrange for you to meet with your young lady.”
I followed Pelle’s instructions, not capable of thinking about what I was doing. He directed all my actions until, gradually, the familiarity of work took over. I hammered the molten metal with great force, again and again, as I did most days. As routine took over, with Pelle working by my side, my dark mood lifted and I began to feel easier.
Chapter 16.
Aftermath
Although we had done little work for the day, we decided to finish early and take a welcome break after the day’s harrowing events.
Just as we were finishing, the Arbiter came rushing up.
“Ah, Joshaviah,” he said. “There are things we must arrange. The Prince wants us to make a schedule to train the men. Your skills impressed him greatly.” He laughed and slapped his thighs. “He’s still talking about it, boasting already about the remarkable sword fighters he will send to battle.”
The Arbiter turned to Pelle, waving his arms around in emphasis. “You should have seen him. He was magnificent. Never have I seen the like!”
Pelle grinned. “I know, he has a special talent.”
“Here's to your success,” the Arbiter said, shaking my hand, his eyes shining. “I'm glad you got what you wanted from the Prince. It rarely happens, and I look forward to seeing what you do with the soldiers. The training can begin tomorrow. How many men can you train at once?” He continued pumping my hand.
“Let me plan something overnight.” I pulled my hand back at last, as nausea threatened to overcome me at the memory of what I had done. Watching the Arbiter take it so lightly also sickened me. “If you don’t mind Arbiter, I’ll take my leave. Let’s meet early in the morning and go over the details. Then I can start training the soldiers straight away.”
I rushed home, eager to get away, but the memories followed. Bronwyn would be preparing our meal and I would be expected to join the family to eat. I tried to focus on that.
The feeling I had done something forbidden, something unforgivable, to win Rachel, clung to me. Surely nothing good would come of this, but at least Pelle, the Arbiter and even the Prince were proud of me.
Bronwyn put a plate of food in front of me when I joined the family, and, engrossed in my thoughts, I ate in silence. The faces of the men I had killed swam before my eyes and I pushed the plate aside. The heavy feeling I had done a great wrong, grew and weighed me down.
I wanted to talk to Marron, and get his advice, some perspective that could give me peace, but my shame was too great to tell him what I had done.
When we finished our meal, Pelle got up from the table. “I'll visit Rachel's father, this evening, to give him the good news,” he said. “Do you want to come too?”
I shook my head. How could I stand before Rachel feeling so unclean? Pelle's eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Why? I thought you would be eager to see her.”
“Yes, I am, but not tonight.” Shame washed over me again and I hung my head. “I killed three men, while they were semiconscious on the ground, Pelle. Can you understand, I need to pay my respects to them and mourn their loss before I can take advantage of what their deaths bestowed on me?”
Pelle looked at me with a puzzled expression on his face. “You are a good man Joshaviah. You did what you had to for your family, for your chosen wife and her family. No one could fault you for doing that.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand why you let it trouble you so. Although no one can doubt you are strong and brave, the soft heart of a woman beats in your breast. A soft heart could cause your undoing.”
I knew Pelle spoke the truth for his society, in that place and time, but where I came from, what I had done was totally forbidden and I couldn't reconcile the two views. I needed time alone to process what I had done and to pay my respects to the men who had made my good fortune possible.
I hoped to stand before Rachel with peace in my heart, not this anguished turmoil. Pelle left for Rachel's family quarters, to tell them what had been negotiated with the Prince and to arrange for Rachael and me to meet, while I, exhausted by what I had been through during the day, took myself to bed.
**********
Again, I did no
t sleep well. The faces of the men I had killed appeared before me. In my dreams, they were simple, happy men with their families surrounding them. I kept waking up sweating and guilt ridden, remembering I had killed these men. Over and over their faces plagued my dreams and ripped at my peace of mind.
Without these men, their families would be destitute unless recompensed by the Prince for the loss of the head of the household. Unlikely, I thought, as I tossed and turned. I had probably condemned more than the three lives I had already taken. Is it any wonder sleep abandoned me?
At daybreak, I got up and staggered to the wall. Maybe viewing the sunrise would lighten my mood.
It was a beautiful, tranquil sunrise, but my heart did not appreciate it. I stood like a statue, numbed by the cool morning air and numb to emotions. Numbness was preferable to shame and guilt, at least.
Pelle walked up behind me. As he reached me, he placed an arm over my shoulders in his customary manner.
“You’re morose this morning,” he said, “but I bear good news that may cheer you up. Last night I spoke at length to Rachel's father. The news you gained the Prince’s permission to marry his daughter and take her, him and her mother, to your new quarters, pleased him.
He approves without reservation. Even better, his daughter also expressed her approval. More than that, she is eager to meet you. You can meet today if you like.”
His news gladdened my heart. I pictured Rachel's face and my heart, at last, thawed and filled with joy. To know she was happy, not only to meet with me but also to be my wife, was the best news I had ever had.
Despite everything, I don’t know how, and I had no right to it, joy and optimism flooded my being.
A new life with Rachel was beginning. Now the Prince favored me, life in the fort could only improve.
Chapter 17.
Meeting Rachel
Thank you Pelle. I can't thank you enough. You are the most wonderful friend.” Tears came to my eyes on hearing the good news he bore, but I blinked them back.