Exile (The Nandor Tales Book 1)

by Martin Owton

  ***

  Ezrin stood on the threshold of the tower room and looked carefully round it to take in its entirety. It measured roughly three paces square; nearly half its area was taken up by the pile of straw that had served as a bed. There was a rough chair, a wooden chest that still contained the clothes Maldwyn had been sent from Nandor after he was captured, and a bucket. The bucket had been emptied recently Ezrin observed, as he surveyed the chamber, all the better for his comfort. Theoretically it should be possible to obtain a reading from ordure, but it was not something he was prepared to countenance. He moved to the chest, lifted the lid, and there on top of the clothes was a hairbrush and comb. He picked them up and turned them over in his hands; there was plenty of hair caught in the teeth of the comb.

  “You cannot escape me, Maldwyn of Nandor,” he said.

  ***

  “This is him, my Lord.”

  Nicoras indicated the man flanked by two armed guards standing at the door to Lord Hercival's chamber. Lord Hercival looked at the bedraggled figure before him. Tancred's once rich clothes were torn and stained, his face was scratched and dirty and Lord Hercival caught the rank smell of him from where he sat three paces away. He did not, as Lord Hercival judged, look dangerous, but there was an air of defiance in his stare.

  “Dismiss the guard, but you stay,” Lord Hercival said to Nicoras. With a nod to the guard, Nicoras pushed Tancred into the centre of the room and took his place with his back to the closed door.

  “Tancred of Nandor,” Lord Hercival said evenly and was gratified to see Tancred stiffen at his name, the defiance replaced by anxiety. “Yes. I know who you are, and what you came here to do. I would like you to tell me where your cousin Maldwyn is.”

  “You think I have no honour?” blustered Tancred.

  “I don’t believe you can afford honour,” said Lord Hercival calmly. “We will find him with or without your aid, but you have an opportunity to help yourself. I suggest you take it. I could hang you and no-one would raise an eyebrow.”

  Tancred seemed to deflate further at these words. “I can be of much more use to you alive, and perhaps we both have an opportunity to help each other,” he said uncertainly.

  Lord Hercival eyed him suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

  “I would think we share a common situation, you and I. I am heir to Earl Baldwin after Maldwyn. If he falls, I inherit. You are the second in line to Sarazan. I would call that uncommonly similar.” Lord Hercival looked up at Nicoras. The man's battered face was unreadable.

  “And what are the consequences of this similarity?” said Lord Hercival evenly.

  “We are in positions where we can assist one another.”

  “In what way should I need your aid?”

  “Second sons are always dependant on their father's good opinion in a way that first-born are not.” Tancred paused to examine the effect of his words before continuing. “I could ensure your father's good opinion of you.”

  “How?” Lord Hercival fixed Tancred with a hard stare.

  “If I were Earl of Nandor, Sarazan would find me a loyal and reliable ally.”

  Lord Hercival snorted derisively. “Why bother? Why not send a tenth of our strength and stamp your pathetic little army flat, then take Nandor for ourselves? Why I myself might be Earl of Nandor then.”

  “Oh you could certainly do that, but would it be worth your trouble? For trouble it most certainly would be.”

  Lord Hercival laughed. “You think you could stand against us?”

  “Militarily no, but do you think Nandor completely friendless at court? How many would take side with us simply to oppose you? Consider the example of Caldon, now in outright rebellion against the High King, and all because they moved against Darien. Moreover, have you considered the cost of garrisoning Nandor? It is a poor place, and you would never recover in taxes what it would cost you to hold it. How much better if the Earl of Nandor was a loyal vassal paying a measure of tribute each year for the protecting hand of Sarazan?”

  Lord Hercival looked up Nicoras. “What do you think?”

  Nicoras paused for a moment before speaking. “He's right about the cost of sustaining a garrison, and there's no reason of strategy for us to hold Nandor. The proposal has some merit.”

  “And what would be your price for this?”

  “That my cousin Maldwyn does not survive his recapture. That should be easy to accomplish. He's stupid enough to fight any number of your troops when he's found,” said Tancred, a small smile of triumph on his lips.

  “So you will assist us in the recapture of your cousin?” asked Lord Hercival mildly. “Where is he then?”

  “Alas, that I do not know,” said Tancred.

  “You ask me to trust you in great matters of state, yet you refuse me the littlest aid that would advance our cause. What game are you playing?” Lord Hercival half rose from his seat, fists clenched in anger.

  “No game, my Lord. I assure you. You misunderstand me,” said Tancred hurriedly. “We had no plan for the escape of Maldwyn. We knew nothing of Sarazan before we arrived and we laid no schemes. I truly do not know where he is now, or where he is headed. We had nothing planned, nothing at all. I can only tell you of the two men with him.”

  “That would be a start,” said Lord Hercival.

  “One of them is an ordinary guardsman. A native of Sarazan. He is a dirty little sneakthief and pickpocket by the name of Davo. The other is from Darien. He is very young, and goes by the name of Aron, son of Eamon. He is dark of hair and eye, slim and dangerous with a blade. He murdered the swordmaster at Nandor and impressed my uncle enough that he sent him with us. He'll be the only one who knows where they are going. Watch for him, and hang him when you catch him.”

  “That is all you have?” said Lord Hercival.

  “Yes, my Lord. Why should I hide anything from you?” Tancred paused. “My friend.”

  “Why indeed?” said Lord Hercival coolly. “Why indeed? Well then - friend. I have no doubt you would appreciate a bath, a change of clothes and a decent meal. Nicoras, have our friend escorted to the guest quarters.”

  Nicoras opened the door and spoke briefly to the guards outside, then conducted Tancred out of the room.

  “A moment, if you please, Nicoras,” Lord Hercival said, “and shut the door.” Nicoras did as he was bidden. “What did you think of our new friend?”

  “What he has told us accords with what we already know. The thief and the youth. But it has cost him nothing. He is, I think, an eel, my Lord; that would twist and turn in your hand if you tried to grasp him.”

  Lord Hercival smiled. “But eels may be caught in a net, eh Nicoras? I think it would be prudent to place a guard at the door to our friend's chamber. I would not wish to lose another Nandoran guest. You may go, and send the scribe to me. I have a letter I wish to send to Earl Baldwin.”

  CHAPTER 16

  The fat-bellied cargo boat ploughed its way down river at a decent speed, its sails filled by a fresh north-westerly breeze. Aron opened one eye as the sunlight played across his face. He paused for a moment to recollect where he was. The water sang under the blunt prow of the boat and he remembered the mad dash through the streets and alleys of Sarazan, the driving fear of pursuit as he, Davo and Maldwyn ran from the lakeside. They had collapsed with exhaustion and relief when the skipper had cast off as soon as they had stepped aboard, then huddled together on deck in their blankets as the current carried them away from the dark city. They were safe, for the moment at least. With Maldwyn and Davo sprawled on the deck sleeping off the night's excitement, Aron savoured the peace of the moment, knowing it could not last. It was tempting to think of the reward awaiting him in Nandor, but the reality was they were getting further away from Nandor with every hour that passed. He had hoped to slip quietly out of Sarazan unnoticed, but men had died. He had not intended this, but their deaths had raised the stakes and made pursuit certain.

  The ca
ptain appeared at the head of the ladder that led from the two cabins below deck. He was a plain-looking man with thinning dark hair who had looked Aron in the eye as he stated his price and shook his hand firmly when Aron handed over the coins. He had offered him a cabin, but the price had been too high so the three of them were deck passengers. Aron hoped for dry weather; otherwise it would be a miserable trip. The captain glanced across at Aron as he made his way to the steersman at the stern of the craft and nodded.

  As Aron woke up more, he became aware of how long it was since he had eaten. He reached into his pack and pulled out the dried meat and oatcakes he had bought the previous night. The captain walked over from the stern.

  “The price includes meals. We'll not cheat travellers on my ship.”

  “Thank you for reminding me,” said Aron with relief. Their funds had not stretched to more than a few days’ rations.

  “It's not a feast, but it's what I'm having,” said the captain. Aron followed him to the head of the stairway and waited while he went below. He returned with a small loaf of bread and a lump of strong yellow cheese.

  “How long to Oxport?” asked Aron.

  “Five days, if the weather holds. We've a full cargo, so I've no plans to stop along the way.”

  The captain looked directly at Aron as if measuring him for a suit of clothes. He’s wondering what or who we’re running from, thought Aron.

  “You cause me no trouble, and you’ll be safe on my ship,” he said and returned to the helm.

  As he ate Aron sat and watched the scenery slip by. The air was mild; sunlight dodged between the clouds, and the green of leaves on the trees showed spring was well advanced. The country on either bank was extensively farmed rolling pasture with every so often a village clustered around a landing jetty where small streams joined the river and swelled it to a broad, even flow. Occasionally they passed ships being towed upstream by teams of horses, and there was an exchange of greetings and news shouted across the water. At the junction of a major tributary they passed a large town with boats of all sizes tied up to the many landing wharves. Aron scanned the wharves anxiously looking out for someone who might be watching for them. He saw no such observer but felt that that meant nothing.

  Sometime after midday Maldwyn and Davo awoke; a crewman came with bread and cheese which they consumed with relish. As Maldwyn ate, Aron was aware that the Nandoran was studying him intently, and prepared himself for the inevitable questions. Finally Maldwyn finished his meal, brushed off the crumbs and looked directly at Aron.

  “Davo I know well, but who are you and how do you come to be my rescuer?”

  Aron smiled. “Easy enough to answer. My name is Aron, and your father sent me.” And your mother persuaded me, he added silently.

  “Surely not you two alone?”

  “No. There were six of us. Your cousin Tancred was in charge.”

  Maldwyn’s face registered surprise.

  “Not Captain Thalon?” Maldwyn asked. “I would have thought him the man to command such an expedition.”

  “Too obviously Nandoran in his accent. Your father sent those men who could pass without suspicion in Sarazan.”

  “And where is my cousin now, and the rest of the party?”

  “Don't rightly know, my Lord,” Davo chipped in. “Didn't come back the night afore last and then the Sarazan guard attacked the inn.”

  “After that we took the first chance we had to come for you,” said Aron.

  “Is it possible they were taken by Sarazan?” asked Maldwyn.

  “Probable enough,” said Aron gloomily. “And so by now Sarazan knows exactly who they are looking for.”

  Maldwyn was silent for a moment, his brow puckered in thought, then he burst out. “We must go back and rescue them. Honour demands that as Tancred risked all for me then I, in my turn, must take a similar risk for him.”

  Aron resisted the temptation to reach out and strangle him. Davo looked similarly dismayed.

  “With respect my Lord, this is most unwise,” said Aron slowly and tactfully. “Firstly, we don’t know where they are. We’re only guessing that Sarazan holds them. Secondly, there are three of us, with little money and few weapons. Thirdly, the whole of Sarazan is now roused against us. I don’t know how many of their guardsmen died in your escape, but you can be sure that it was enough that they’ll pursue us with all their might. We’ll be very fortunate if we evade them ourselves. We have to look to our own survival before we can worry about Tancred. My task, as your father laid it upon me, is to return you to Nandor.” Aron sat back hoping that Maldwyn had enough sense to acknowledge the realities of their situation.

  “Honour can take no account of such things. I know what must be done and I command you do it.”

  Aron closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he answered. “I am no sworn man of Nandor. You do not command me.”

  Maldwyn looked taken aback.

  “Did not my father command you on the errand?”

  “He did. He held that I owed Nandor a debt, and this was the way to pay it.”

  “What debt?”

  “I killed a guardsman.”

  “Who?” Maldwyn's voice rose in register as he grew more animated.

  “I believe his name was Marek. It was in a tavern beside the marketplace.”

  “Big Marek? The weaponmaster? How? Is this so, Davo?” Maldwyn seemed stunned by this and turned to the little man who had sat silently beside them.

  Davo nodded. “True my Lord, an I seen him take every one of the lads one by one with practice woods. Cleaner an better’n Marek ever was.”

  Maldwyn looked hard at Aron and said nothing. Aron decided to press his advantage.

  “My advice is that we continue to Oxport,” he said. “That is what I intend to do.”

  There was silence for some moments then Maldwyn spoke. “What will we do in Oxport?”

  Aron let out the breath he had been holding, the peak of the crisis had passed.

  “We should be able to find a ship to take us up the coast. We can trek into Nandor over the western range. Spring should be well on by then and it won't be too hard on the hills.”

  “It'll take a good long time though,” said Maldwyn. “And all the while Tancred is in the hands of Sarazan.”

  “True, but I see no other way. We may be able to send a faster message to your father from Oxport to let him know that at least you are free. It would strengthen his hand in dealing with the Duke.”

  “Can we not do that before Oxport?”

  “I know a few people in Oxport who will shelter us for a short time. Before then we are on our own. Even when we are beyond Sarazan's borders, the Duke has a long reach,” Aron said looking around as if he expected to see the Duke's cavalry on the riverbank.

  Maldwyn fell silent for a while and then asked for news of Nandor. This brought Davo out of his shell, he was happy to relate the gossip of the town and castle. Aron hoped the little man would have the wit to keep quiet about Maldwyn's sisters and their attachment to him.

  ***

  “I have found him, my Lord.” Ezrin stood in the doorway of Lord Hercival's chamber. Nicoras looked up sharply from a map that he and Lord Hercival were studying, and noted that Ezrin seemed taller and more confident than at their previous meeting. Dust motes danced in the late afternoon sun streaming in through the narrow slit of the window lighting the table and leaving the rest of the chamber in shadow.

  “Where?” Lord Hercival's question was as sharp as an order.

  “He is on a boat heading downriver,” the sorcerer replied. “The other two are with him.”

  “Yes, yes, but where? How far downriver?” Lord Hercival scrabbled with the map to find the course of the river.

  “That is less easy to determine. He doesn't know and there were no landmarks that I recognised.”

  Ezrin's confidence drained away and Lord Hercival's face tightened into a scowl.

 
“What do you mean? How can you have found him and not know where he is?”

  Lord Hercival stood back and his face was lost in shadow as Ezrin's eyes struggled to make the adjustment from the sunlit table.

  “It's more a limitation of Maldwyn than of the magic. The hair he left behind preserves a link to him in the spirit world. I can follow this to him, and then I can see through his eyes, and to some extent know his mind. The trouble is his eyes see nothing that I recognise. He doesn't know where he is so I cannot pluck it from his mind.”

  “So this magic is useless to us,” said Lord Hercival.

  “Not entirely, my Lord,” Nicoras intervened from the shadows.” We now know they are on the river. We will find whose boat they are on soon enough, and where that boat is bound. In the meantime, I suggest the wizard here goes back to watching Maldwyn until he sees something he recognises.”

  “I don't know the river very well, my Lord,” Ezrin turned to Hercival.

  “Never mind, we can send someone who does to sit with you. You describe what you see to them until they recognise something. See to it, Nicoras,” commanded Hercival. “Thank you, Ezrin, do as we suggest and you will yet earn our gratitude.”

  The wizard, his mouth a thin line of anger, withdrew.

  “I begin to understand why my grandfather had so little time for wizards, Nicoras,” said Lord Hercival with a heavy sigh.

  “I think you are being overly hard with him, my Lord,” said Nicoras. “He has found them for us, and we may very well need him further.”

  Hercival snorted in reply before speaking. “What resources do we have down that way to catch our fugitives?”

  “I would guess they are already past Thrieve. There are two garrisoned towns further downriver, my Lord; but if you'll take my advice we should not take them in either place.”

  “Why?” Hercival's brow furrowed again.

  “Things have a way of going wrong when there are too many people about, in my experience. Also, in the strictest legal sense, we do not have the right to stop a boat on the river. By the treaty your father signed with Oxport, we have no right to close the river to navigation or hinder trade on it.”