I didn’t catch Lord Pellyn’s answer, but perhaps by accident Lord Rhys’s next words carried clearly down the corridor.
“The lammergeyer is such a magnificent creature after all.”
I knew him well enough by now to hear the laughter in his voice, even if Lord Pellyn didn’t.
TEN
I had breakfast in my room in the end, a tray of porridge and tea sent by Lady Cerwen. Afterwards I got dressed in my new clothes and went out into the courtyard, where I found a contented Hami gobbling down his own breakfast. Captivity seemed to agree with him.
To my relief the swelling was down, perhaps due to the excellent liniment, and since Kestrel had left another pot for me, I massaged that in. A short time later Wynn arrived with three other boys, who had been assigned the task of helping me care for Hami. I was secretly grateful, for looking after Hami was a lot of work, though I suspected Lord Rhys of wanting to find out how best to handle an elephant. I set them to fetching brushes and buckets of water to give him a wash, and Hami let them pamper him like the prince of elephants that he was. Afterwards we moved him to a new place on the other side of the tree while they carted away the piles of elephant dung.
I couldn’t offer them a ride on Hami as a reward, but I asked for a basket of nuts and when that arrived showed them a trick I had taught the elephant as a child. At my command, he lifted a massive foot and I placed a single walnut on the ground. Hami carefully lowered the foot with its curious, ridged sole and exerted just enough pressure to crack the nut open. The boys exclaimed in excitement and vied with each other to place the next nut for him, losing all fear of him. Secretly I grinned and resolved not to tell them how many nuts had been squashed to inedible pieces before he had mastered the trick.
When Lady Cerwen came along a little later, she at once got treated to a demonstration and was suitably impressed. I had saved some carrots from Hami’s breakfast and let her feed them to him.
“How clever he is,” she exclaimed when he dexterously took one after the other from her hands and popped them in his mouth.
With the carrots all gone, Hami’s trunk snaked out, looking for more, and she patted him cautiously. “What an amazing creature!”
Clearly she did not look at him as just another tool for war, and I liked her the better for it. “He is, isn’t he?” I said with a smile.
We had agreed earlier on to dispense with titles and now she smiled back, her blue eyes kind. “Arisha, I’m off to watch the men at training. Will you be all right here?”
Had her cousin charged her with keeping an eye on me? However, this might be a chance to get an idea of the layout of the place. “May I come along?” I asked. “Hami is in good hands here.”
She hesitated for a moment, but nodded. “If you wish.”
Wynn got charged with saddling horses for us and very soon we rode out the tightly guarded gate of the village, the boy and a couple of guards in attendance. Cerwen had lent me one of her spare horses, a pretty grey mare with a kind disposition. It didn’t take long to establish a rapport with her, but I had done very little horse riding in the past and it felt strange to be so low down when I was used to the sweeping view from Hami’s back.
We passed through the tents, and Cerwen pointed out the different banners and which family they belonged to. I realised that the plan of the camp was not as random as I had thought at first, but rather the tents were clumped together in groups. Each one had pennants in their particular combination of colours snapping in the wind.
“Why are there so many different lords here?” I asked with a sinking feeling in my stomach. Surely such a gathering of men could only have one intent?
Cerwen cast me a surprised look. “Of course, you wouldn’t know. They’re here to swear allegiance to Rhys.” She sounded proud of her cousin.
I did not need to ask her for what purpose. Did Prince Bahram know what trouble was brewing for him? While Cerwen threaded her way between the tents, stopping to talk to an acquaintance every now and again, I wondered how many of these blond, fair skinned men greeting her so courteously would live to see the end of the summer. Even if they managed to defeat the Sikhandi, surely the price would be high?
As for myself, I attracted many looks, some hostile, some disdainful, but most just curious. My black hair set me apart and they had to know I was one of their enemies, but I felt surprisingly little ill will from them. Because I was a woman or did they consider me below their notice?
When we left the last tents behind, Cerwen invited me to ride at her side. “I’ve been wanting to thank you,” she said. “Rhys told me how you saved him from the river.”
Her gratitude made me uncomfortable. “I saved Wynn really,” I tried to explain. “Lord Rhys was…incidental.”
She put her head to one side. “Incidental?”
I shrugged. “I couldn’t very well pluck Wynn from the water and leave Lord Rhys there to drown, could I?”
Cerwen looked at me with big eyes. Suddenly she started to giggle. “Even though you would have liked to?”
Her mirth was catching. “The temptation was strong,” I admitted with a grin, making her laugh out loud.
“I have to tell Rhys that saving him was only an afterthought,” she said, “but we’re all very grateful anyway.”
Was that the reason for the lack of hostility? And did the whole camp know that I had pulled Lord Rhys from the river? Suddenly the unwelcome idea that the tale might find its way back to Prince Bahram occurred to me. He would hardly be pleased that I had saved the Eagle’s life – would he believe my explanation or jump to the conclusion that I had changed sides? For all I knew, he might hold with what Rastam tal Nasar had written: define your enemy by what they do, not by what they say. A trickle of unease ran down my spine. Yet after a moment’s thought I shrugged my concerns aside. Surely it was highly unlikely that the prince would ever hear of the incident.
To distract myself, I decided to get to the bottom of another question that had piqued my curiosity. Cerwen wore leggings peeking out from under a wide skirt that was split down the middle for riding, not so different from my own clothes. Perhaps she knew where Lord Rhys had got them from?
I gave her a cautious smile. “May I ask you something, Cerwen?”
“Yes, of course,” she answered at once.
“Lord Rhys gave me these clothes.” I indicated my tunic and trousers. “I just wondered how he came by them since they’re Sikhandi?” Not a very important question really, but it had been niggling at me. And also there was that pressed flower…
“He did?” Cerwen looked me up and down. “I have no idea. But perhaps he bought them in his time in Sikhand?”
“Lord Rhys was in Sikhand?” My mare must have felt my surprise, for she gave a start. I patted her reassuringly.
Cerwen nodded. “Oh yes, though he doesn’t talk about it much. He went to study in one of the schools there. You should ask Raven, he accompanied him.”
Lord Rhys as a peaceful scholar? The idea boggled the imagination!
Cerwen gathered the reins of her horse more tightly. “He got called back after…” She cast me an uncomfortable look. “…well, that night at Glynhir Castle.”
There was no need to specify what night she meant: the night Prince Maziar had been invited to a wedding celebration here in Aneirion and walked out as the only one alive, leaving the assembled nobles dying of poison behind him. Three days later he’d led the invading army across the mountains.
We rode on in silence while I pondered how many reasons these people had for hating the Sikhandi. The savagery on both sides was just the logical conclusion of that one night that had changed the lives of so many people.
“Did you lose your parents there, Cerwen?” I asked, dreading the answer.
She shook her head. “No, they died of a summer fever when I was nothing but a tiny baby. But Uncle Aeddan and Aunt Talaith died that night.” Her voice shook. “And Seren.”
“Lord Rhys’s parents?” An
appalling thought, but not really surprising.
“Yes.”
“And who was Seren?”
“His sister, my best friend. She had just turned eighteen that year.”
No wonder he had slit Prince Maziar’s throat! In the Sikhandi camp, everybody knew about the poisoning of course, yet it was only spoken of in whispers. While the Victorious Fifth drew no pride from it, it was not a good idea to criticise an imperial prince, even a dead one. At the time Prince Maziar had claimed to have survived by the favours of the Elements, but in reality he must have taken an antidote beforehand.
I cast a sideways glance at Cerwen riding by my side, a frown of pain on her face as she remembered her losses. “I was too young to go,” she said suddenly. “That saved my life.” She looked up. “You must understand, it’s not personal, but people here don’t like the Sikhandi.”
“I don’t blame you!” I exclaimed.
My reception had been surprisingly civil, really. I hadn’t realised that Prince Maziar had also killed so many innocent women, though it made sense, considering his reputation. Not that poisoning men was any better, though many of them had plenty of blood on their own hands. A bloodthirsty bunch that warred amongst each other incessantly, they had raided across the mountains into Sikhand for generations – one of the reasons why Prince Maziar had found it so easy to gather support for his idea of subduing them.
Another thought struck me. “What about Lord Pellyn, did he lose any of his family?”
“His father and elder brother died that night.”
“Oh.” That put a different light on the man’s open hostility.
* * *
Both of us deep in thought, we passed through a narrow belt of trees, afterwards coming out into the open again. In the distance a lake glinted in the sunlight, but Cerwen turned the other way. Soon we heard men calling out, the pounding of hooves and the clang of metal on metal: noises only too familiar to me.
A wide, open field lay before us, fringed by birches. Burning piles of wood had been set up at irregular intervals all across it and men were riding through the gaps between them, firing arrows at straw targets. Over to the side, more men were facing off in single combat in large circles marked with sawdust. Cerwen led the way to an elevated platform giving a view of the whole field and dismounted.
To my surprise there were a couple of other ladies there. Cerwen introduced one of them as Lady Enit, Lord Pellyn’s mother, and it became clear to me where he had got his thin neck from. Lady Lammergeyer regarded me with disfavour, sniffed disdainfully and proceeded to ignore me. Her daughter Owena, however, was a surprise. An ethereal looking creature with a pretty, heart-shaped face, she had fine blond hair floating around her and looked as if a strong puff of air might blow her away. There was nothing of the vulture about her!
Lord Rhys and Lord Pellyn came riding up to greet us, accompanied by more lords, all of them wearing heavy chain-mail and helmets. Lord Rhys’s nose protection had the shape of an eagle’s beak, and his cool blue eyes looked out at the world with the passionless gaze of a great bird of prey. I shivered. Who could face such an opponent and live? Then he took off the helmet and removed his arming coif to reveal tousled hair, and I chided myself for my silly fancies.
Neither seemed particularly pleased to see me. Lord Pellyn only cast me a sour look, saying nothing, but Lord Rhys took his cousin aside.
“Why did you bring her?” he asked Cerwen in a low voice.
“She wanted to come.”
That earned me a penetrating look and I got the feeling he realised at once that I intended to survey the place. However, the cutting remark I expected never came. “You won’t like it,” was all he said. “I’m sorry.”
He was sorry? But I didn’t get the chance to ask him what he meant, for that moment Lord Pellyn’s sister Owena claimed his attention.
“Oh, Lord Rhys,” she exclaimed, looking up at him with the soulful eyes of an adoring puppy, “I thought my heart would stop when they lit the fires. Your men are so brave to ride through them.”
He gave her an indulgent smile. “I’m afraid that’s only the beginning.”
She gasped and laid a slim white hand on his arm. “Really?”
Lord Pellyn leant forward eagerly. “Why, what else have you got planned?”
His mother cast him an annoyed glare for interrupting the conversation, but he didn’t seem to notice. Instinctively I glanced at Cerwen and found her watching her cousin and his fair companion with a carefully blank expression. So that was the way the wind blew?
I slipped off the platform to stroke Lord Rhys’s mare who greeted me with ears pricked forward and sniffed my hand for treats. Her warm, moist breath smelled of hay.
Cerwen followed me. “Be careful with Gwynt,” she said, “she likes the odd finger for a snack.” She put her head to one side. “Although she seems to have taken a liking to you.”
I nodded towards Lord Rhys and Owena. “Are they engaged?”
“Not yet.” She scratched Gwynt under the forelock. “Though I suppose politically speaking it would make a lot of sense, for Pellyn is the largest landholder on the coast.”
“She’s very pretty.” And soft as a fluffy cushion that you could form into any shape you liked. Still, it was no concern of mine if Lord Rhys wanted that kind of wife.
“Yes,” Cerwen agreed, not sounding particularly enthusiastic. She sighed. “Well, I can hardly blame her for trying. I’d do anything to get away from a mother like that, too.”
I cast a startled glance at Lady Enit, who was whispering into Owena’s ear, a frown on her face. Telling her to try harder?
That moment Lord Taren rode up and on dismounting swept us a deep bow. “What do my eyes behold? Truly, the morning is made brighter by your presence.”
Cerwen blushed as he raised her fingers to his lips. “Don’t be silly, Raven!”
Lord Taren pressed his hand to his heart, but his eyes danced with amusement. “I’m crushed! How can such a fair lady be so cruel?” He turned to me and greeted me in a completely normal voice. “Lady Arisha, what a pleasure to meet you again. I hope you’ve recovered from the journey?”
My spirits rose at seeing a friendly face. “Yes, thank you.” I smiled at him.
Cerwen took his arm. “Are you going to keep us company?”
A mournful look came over him. “Alas, I’m only here for orders.”
“Orders?”
Lord Rhys bent over the railing of the platform. “Raven, stop exchanging sweet nothings with my cousin. I need you to show our guests how to run the complete course.”
Lord Taren groaned. “In other words, you want to make me fall off my horse in front of everybody. Really, who needs enemies when they have friends like you?”
“You’ll manage,” Lord Rhys declared. “Anyway, it’s been raining overnight, so the ground is soft.”
“Soft and muddy!” Lord Taren went down on his knees in front of Cerwen in an extravagant gesture. “Lady, will you lend me a token to keep me safe?”
Cerwen laughed, but blood rushed to her cheeks. “Raven, have you been drinking?”
“A token?”
She took a ribbon from her hair and bound it round his arm. “Just to get rid of you!”
He grinned in triumph, mounted his horse and trotted off. To get a better view, we climbed on the platform again, where Lord Rhys was explaining the details of the course to Lord Pellyn while his sister stood beside them, hanging onto every word. Out on the training field more obstacles in the form of woven fences, logs and barrels were put up and the piles of burning wood restocked. I also noticed a trench full of muddy water running along the middle of the field, but hoped Lord Taren had only been joking about falling off.
“The straw targets are mostly placed along that incline at the back of the field,” Lord Rhys explained, pointing at the hillock opposite our position. “The line of sawdust on the ground marks the typical range of Sikhandi bows, so you want to stay outside that.”
Lord Pellyn whistled through his teeth. “That’s quite a way.”
“Yes, the challenge is to ride parallel to the line of targets and hit as many of them as you can.”
“And the obstacles on the field?” one of the other men asked.
“They just make things a bit more interesting. After all, in a real battle you won’t be able to ride in a straight line either, but have to weave your way through the combatants.”
“It doesn’t look easy,” the man said, sounding impressed.
Lord Rhys grinned. “No. Also my armsmaster,” he pointed to a man directing the other helpers from horseback, “has standing orders to come up with surprises to keep us from growing complacent.”
A little later the armsmaster called for his men to withdraw and raised a horn to his lips. Before the long, haunting sound had faded away, Taren rode in from one side. Despite his deprecating words he was obviously a consummate horseman, weaving between the fires, jumping the woven fences and splashing through the water trench while shooting at the same time. Some of the targets popped in and out of hiding as men hidden behind stout wooden barriers lifted them up and down. Lord Rhys and his guests watched the run, commenting on the finer points, until Lord Taren cantered out the other side.
One of the boys was sent to collect the arrows and the armsmaster rode over to the platform to announce the total. “Eighteen hits,” he declared, “five of which were moving targets.”
Lord Pellyn grunted with satisfaction and Owena clapped her hands in delight, but Lord Rhys drummed his fingers on the wooden railing. “We need to do better still.”
Eighteen hits! I felt sick. In real life eighteen men would lie on the field dead or gravely wounded. I thought of my friend Yasaman’s husband Navid, of the elephant boys who were expected to accompany their charges into battle. So quickly their lives could be snuffed out.
A gentle touch on my arm. “Lady, would you like to return to the house? I can send a guard with you.” I looked up to find Lord Rhys beside me.
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