Sword of Betrayal

by Robert Evert

  No. He wouldn’t go along. If anybody piled shit on him, he’d break their nose. There were some lines he wouldn’t let people cross. He was Edris, son of Lord Elros. That should mean something.

  Of course, if he got disowned…

  His thoughts returned to Markus. He had to figure out a way to make his father happy.

  Edris fidgeted in his chair, wondering where the hell the librarian had gone off to. He glanced about.

  The library was situated in the castle’s southernmost tower. Rows of tall shelves lined the stone walls, all crammed with hundreds of tomes. Between each row, faint afternoon light seeped through windows of thick glass. In the center of the dimly lit room, a narrow circular stairway connected each floor.

  Heavy footfalls echoed as somebody bounded down the stairs. Boots appeared, then thick legs and a muscular chest. The man’s face came into view. Edris stood.

  “Markus.”

  Markus eyed Edris. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said sternly. “This is the king’s private library.”

  “Yes, I know. He brought me here.” Then Edris added because he thought he should, “It’s good to see you again.”

  Stepping off the stairs, Markus drew closer, perplexed. “Who…?”

  “It’s Edris. Lord Elros’s youngest son.”

  Markus gaped. “Fatty Eddie?”

  Edris fought to hide a grimace. “That’s me.”

  “By the gods!” Markus threw his arms around Edris and lifted him off the ground. “Fatty Eddie!” He dropped Edris and patted his head like a dog. “I can’t believe it! By the gods!”

  Edris ran his fingers through his hair, trying to fix the mess Markus had created. “I’ve grown a bit since we last met.”

  “I’ll say. Great gods! How old are you now? Twenty? Twenty-one?”

  “I’m fifteen.”

  Fifteen! Shit. If you grow any more, you won’t fit through doorways! What are you doing here?”

  “I’m enlisting next spring. I’m going to be a kingsman.”

  “A kingsman,” Markus said, impressed. “Still dreaming about becoming a knight, eh?”

  “Something like that. Congratulations on your last quest, by the way. Your father’s very proud.”

  “Is he? It’s hard to tell sometimes. You know how it is. If you aren’t the heir or the spare, you’re an afterthought. But thank you. What are you doing in the library? I would think you’d be bedding all the lucky women of Bend.”

  “My father thought it would be a good idea for me to study military strategy before I begin my service. And—” He lifted his hands helplessly. “—here I am. How about you? What are you doing here? Bedded all the women in Upper Angle already? Nobody else to sleep with?”

  Markus laughed. “I believe there are a few peasant girls living on the nearby farms who have yet to make my acquaintance. But actually, I was upstairs, reading a few things. I got up to stretch my legs.” He surveyed Edris. “You’re a damn giant!”

  “I’m only a few inches taller than you.”

  “A few inches? I barely come up to your nose!” Markus stood on his tiptoes, hand sliding from the top of his head to the bridge of Edris’s nose. “See! And how did you get so muscular?” He thumped his fist against Edris’s bulging chest. “I don’t recall any of your brothers being so blasted big.”

  “My father makes me work in the fields—felling trees, moving boulders, digging out stumps. It’s exhausting, but it’s definitely made me stronger.”

  Markus nodded, as though he wouldn’t mind trying the same things. “Well, it’s amazing. Honestly, I think we’ll have a devil of a time finding armor that’ll fit you. How long will you be in the city?”

  “To tell you the truth,” Edris replied, not sure how he should proceed, “I don’t know. My father is rather insistent I make something of myself, and he says he doesn’t appreciate me taking up space in the manor.”

  Markus’s expression grew somber. “How is he—your father? Are things well with him?”

  “I’m sure he hasn’t changed since you last saw him.”

  “No, I’m sure he hasn’t.” Markus’s tone brightened. “Which reminds me, I’ve heard about your many exploits! It seems nobody in Bend can best you in a fair fight. Your father must be pleased about that.”

  “According to my father, I haven’t fought anybody worthy of my sweat.”

  “Ah. Well, he’s like that, isn’t he? Say, do you want me to set up some matches here? You could expand your reputation.”

  “Perhaps it would be best if I kept a low profile. Some of the men I’d fight might be serving in my company next year. I’d hate to cause any animosity.”

  “Oh, please. The men are professionals. They beat on each other all the time. Let me see what I can do. I’m sure my father would love to see you compete.”

  There was no use arguing. Every time Markus or his siblings wanted to have things their way, they’d say it’d please their father. It was how they indicated the matter was closed.

  Edris bowed. “As you wish.”

  “Wonderful!”

  Bells in the tower rang the dinner hour.

  “Have you eaten?” Markus asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “Then you must have dinner with the family. Merrick is off trying to find a woman who’d be willing to marry him. Morris is the-gods-know-where. But Mariam’s here. I’m sure she’d love to see you.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Splendid!” Markus guided him to the stairway. “So tell me about your brothers. How is Edran? He’s still single, isn’t he?”

  “He is. I’ll tell you all about his failures with the fairer sex during dinner.” Edris motioned to the aisle where the librarian had disappeared. “I’ll catch up with you. An elderly gentleman went off to fetch me some books. I’d hate to disappear on him.”

  “Jarred? You may have to wait. He’s a good man, but he’s getting slow ascending the stairs. We tried hiring a young scribe to help him, but he won’t hear of it.”

  “If he doesn’t return soon, I’ll leave him a message.”

  “Do that. Tell him to leave the books here and you’ll get them later. I have an entire table littered with things upstairs. Nobody will touch them.” At this, Edris’s ears pricked. “Hey, I have to go to the privy. Meet you in the dining hall in a few minutes?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Markus beheld Edris again. Shaking his head, he laughed. “By the gods. It’s good to see you, Fatty.”

  “It’s good to be seen.”

  “At your size, how can you not? Come to dinner. I mean it. Everybody will want to see you.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Markus descended the circular stairs with the urgency of a man whose bladder was threatening to burst. When he’d gone, Edris rushed up the stairs to the next floor. There, by one of the west windows, he found a table laden with piles of books, scrolls, and maps. He riffled through them.

  The maps were of Hillshire and the surrounding countryside. The books were about Prince Raaf and his family. Edris picked up an old journal with a tattered leather cover. Flipping through its brown pages, he quickly realized it was a diary—Raaf’s personal diary.

  The librarian called for him. “Young man?”

  Edris shoved the diary behind his cloak and hurried down the circular steps. “I’m right here!”

  Eleven

  The royal dining hall erupted with laughter.

  “I can’t tell you,” the king said, still chuckling, “how wonderful it is to have you here, Eddie. Or should I say Edris? You’re definitely no longer the little Eddie who used to run around these halls waving my sword and attacking the cat.”

  “The cat had it coming,” Edris said, eating.

  “Lord Blacknose?” Across from him, the king’s daughter, Mariam, pouted playfully. “He was a delight.”

  “He bit!” Edris and Markus cried together.

  “Only men!” Mariam replied, peering at Ed
ris over the rim of her goblet. “Some men deserve a good biting.”

  “And some cats deserve to be chased with a sword and taught how to obey,” Edris replied.

  “Oh, obey , is it?” She winked at him. “Cats of reputable breeding don’t obey. They rule.”

  Was she flirting with him? Or was this one of her jokes?

  Growing up, Mariam always went to great lengths to make Edris feel uncomfortable. Once, he received a note to come to her quarters. When he entered, the shapely teenage girl pretended to be naked and screamed. Screaming himself, the embarrassed Edris sprinted from the room, down the corridor, out the castle. He’d run several miles before he realized what had happened.

  “Speaking of obeying,” Markus interjected pointedly, “how do you think you’ll like life as a kingsman, Eddie?” He took a bite of his lamb, relishing more than the tender meat.

  “He’ll do splendidly,” His Majesty said. “Look at the size of him! Why, I bet he’ll be the champion of the guards within a year.”

  “You did grow,” the queen said from the other end of the table. “It’s remarkable. How old are you now, Eddie? Nineteen?”

  “Fifteen, ma’am.”

  “Fifteen!” she exclaimed. “I bet you still have a couple more inches left in you.”

  “I hope not,” Edris replied. “My father refuses to buy me any more clothes, and the mail I have scarcely fits me as it is.”

  Markus snorted. “I bet!”

  “How is your dear father?” the queen asked. “We haven’t seen him in ages. You really should have him come for a visit, Michael.”

  “I’ve offered,” the king said, tearing a piece of bread and dabbing it in the gravy. “But short of an order, I doubt he’d make the trip.”

  An uncomfortable silence settled around the dining hall as people ate.

  “He’s been busy,” Edris found himself saying.

  “I’m sure,” the king said pleasantly. “His fiefdom is one of the most prosperous in the realm. I should probably send him a commendation.”

  “That’s a fabulous idea,” the queen said. “When are you returning to Bend, Eddie? Perhaps you can deliver it to him.”

  “I’m not sure, ma’am. To be honest, I’d like to do as much as I can before I enlist. I’m looking forward to traveling.”

  “You should go with Markus to Hillshire,” the queen said, cutting her meat. Both the king and Markus stiffened. They shared a glance. “He could use the company.”

  “Why are you going to Hillshire?” Edris asked Markus as casually as he could.

  Markus slowly drained his goblet, perhaps to buy himself time to think. “I’m going to visit Merrick. He’s there trying to find a woman who’ll love him.”

  “Oh, stop!” the queen said. “Lady Louisa is a perfectly pleasant girl. You make it sound like Merrick is scraping the bottom of the barrel!”

  Markus began to make a retort, but Edris cut him off, not wanting the topic to slip away. “Well, if you’re willing to have me, I’d love to tag along. I haven’t seen Merrick in years, and I’ve never been to Hillshire.”

  A panicked expression flashed across Markus’s face, but it was swiftly replaced by an affable smile. “Of course! I’d enjoy having you. Though I don’t know how long I’ll be away or where I might head after seeing Merrick.”

  “Not to worry. You don’t have to mind me. I can find my way home.”

  “Feel free to take a few of my books with you,” the king said to Edris. “You can return them when you begin your training.”

  “Oh, you men!” said Mariam. “Books and traveling and training! Let’s talk about things that matter.” She sipped her wine. “So, Eddie, have you gone skinny dipping lately?”

  Twelve

  Edris lay on his bed in His Majesty’s guesthouse, reading the book of poems Beatrice had given him, sipping a glass of red wine as the warm autumn breeze caressed his bare chest. Perhaps it was the wine, or the faint smell of the beeswax candles lit about the room, but he never felt so relaxed. He could only imagine what his father would say if he walked in. Lying about and reading poetry? He’d be apoplectic. But Edris didn’t care. His father was a hundred miles away, and he’d had too pleasant of an evening with the king’s family to worry about him.

  Somebody hammered on the door.

  “Eddie!” Markus shouted.

  Edris held his breath, hoping his cousin would go away. He’d spent all evening listening to Markus bragging about his many adventurers. It was nice to be rid of him.

  He went back to reading.

  Markus continued pounding. “Come on, Eddie. Leave the poor whore alone. Open this door.”

  Edris turned a page.

  “I know you’re in there. The servants told me.”

  Groaning, Edris put a scrap of paper marking the sonnet he’d been reading, then tucked the book under his pillow.

  “All right! All right!” he hollered.

  He stomped down the hall and opened the door with a jerk.

  Markus was leaning against the jamb, grinning. “Who is she?” He pushed past him.

  “Who?”

  “The tart you’re plowing.”

  “I’m alone.”

  “I bet.”

  Markus burst into the bedroom. He noted the wine, then the unmade bed, and then the open window.

  “Well,” he said, delighted, “it looks like this little birdie has flown! I hope you got what you wanted.”

  “I told you, I was alone.”

  “Sure you were.” Markus flung Edris the shirt he’d been wearing for dinner. “It doesn’t matter. Get dressed. We’re going to town. I’ve set up a fight for you.”

  “Markus…”

  “None of that. I’m dying to see the great mountain, Fatty Eddie, do battle. Besides, I’ll get you two women if you win.”

  “There’s something to be said about quality over quantity.”

  “Spoken like somebody in love.”

  “I’m not in love,” Edris replied. “I was merely enjoying myself.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Relaxing.”

  “You can relax later.” Markus held open the door. “Come on. One fight. And if you don’t knock him unconscious, you’re not coming with me to Hillshire.”

  Thirteen

  Markus led Edris though winding streets descending the lopsided hill upon which Upper Angle was built. They entered the lowest tier of the city, passing seedy taverns, flamboyant brothels, and the ill-kept houses of the lower classes. Turning off a major thoroughfare, they came to a town square crammed with people.

  “Who am I fighting?” Edris asked, stretching his arms.

  They pushed through the murmuring crowd to where a boxing ring had been erected. Then Edris saw the man waiting for him. It was Captain Kriton.

  “Markus…”

  “Don’t worry, Eddie. You can take him.”

  Edris pulled Markus aside. “He’s going to be my captain.”

  “Then now is the time to beat the crap out of him. Isn’t it?”

  “Markus!”

  “Don’t worry about it. Everybody respects a fair fight.”

  “What’s wrong, Eddie?” Kriton called from the ring. “Need a book?”

  “Markus…” Edris said again, pleading.

  “You can’t renege now.”

  This was true. Edris had to fight. He’d never live it down if he walked away. The question was: should he let his future captain win?

  “Daddy isn’t here to save you, Eddie.” Kriton announced to the growing crowd, “If you don’t know, ladies and gentlemen, this is the famous Edris, son of Lord Elros the drunk. Let’s see if he’s as good as the rumors make him out to be.”

  Edris glared at his beaming cousin, then the taunting mob. He repressed the anger rising within him. “Okay,” he said, attempting to lighten the situation. “But I want three women if I win.”

  Markus clapped Edris’s shoulder. “That’s the spirit!”

  Taking off his sh
irt, Edris ducked under the ropes and stepped into the ring.

  “Don’t worry, dreg,” somebody shouted. “Consider this your initiation to the company.”

  “Show us what you can do, Fatty Eddie!” Markus cheered.

  Edris stretched some more, wondering how to lose tactfully without his father finding out.

  Then the referee signaled for the fight to commence.

  Better make this look good…

  The combatants circled each other, staying near the middle of the ring.

  Edris sized up his opponent. Kriton was slightly shorter than he was and didn’t have his enormous reach. But the Captain of the Guards was thick and muscled, and he obviously knew how to handle himself.

  Kriton charged him, swinging a big right hand at Edris’s jaw.

  Edris easily slipped under the blow. With Kriton’s defenses dropping, he could’ve countered, but decided against it.

  Kriton shot a flurry of jabs at Edris’s nose. Weaving to the left, then the right, Edris dodged them all.

  Several of the men in the crowd booed.

  “Come on!” one of them yelled. “This ain’t no dance! Fight!”

  Kriton threw another powerful right at Edris’s head. Again, Edris dodged the blow. He then slipped a left jab into Kriton’s forehead. It wasn’t hard and Kriton knew it.

  “You laying back?” Kriton hollered, furious. “You think you can lay back with me? I can take anything you got.”

  He faked a left to Edris’s chin, then kneed him in the groin. Edris doubled over, clutching himself. The referee attempted to get in between the two fighters, but Kriton shoved him away. He pummeled Edris’s head, then sent uppercuts into his unprotected face.

  “How’s that, Eddie?” Kriton asked as he battered Edris mercilessly. “Where’s your father now? The drunken whore-chaser!”

  Enraged, Edris grabbed Kriton’s legs, then drove forward with his shoulders lowered. Tackling the captain to the dirt, Edris leapt on him, hitting the prostrate man repeatedly as hard as he could. Kriton’s nose snapped, blood gushing everywhere. Then his front teeth broke. Then his jaw.

  “Bastard!” Edris struck Kriton in the eye. Kriton tried to defend himself but couldn’t. Blow after blow rained down upon him, blood spraying across the dirt. “I was going to carry you. You stupid shit! It didn’t have to be like this.”