Millennium
Page 10
was engaged in earnest conversation with Orieano.
This, Bel Menstal thought, must be checked. Haughtily ignoring the restof the company, he paced to the head of the table, where he madeperfunctory obeisance.
"Your Excellency," he greeted. He straightened. "I offer my apologiesfor my late appearance. My men had to clear a slide from the way." Heturned toward Orieano.
"You would do well to instruct your serfs in the art of road building.Their work seems slack."
He faced the Duke again. The overlord set his cup down.
"Bel Menstal," he said gravely, "two nobles of your former land havecome to me to present serious accusations." He rose. "You will accompanyme to the chambers."
Bel Menstal hesitated. His men were outside the castle, of course. Itwas against etiquette to bring them inside, especially when the Dukewas present. But there were plenty of them. Possibly he should fight hisway out of here now. Once in his hilltop castle, he would beimpregnable. And his raiding parties could keep the barony in supplies.Or possibly it would be better to----
He forced his panic down. After all, what could these two do? Therecould be little evidence they could offer. Well over twenty years hadpassed. He had adopted the ways of the land. Now, he was one of theDuke's powerful arms. And what could they give to offset that?
Here was no cause for fear. He could bluff his way out of thisaccusation, discredit the searchers, and make his position permanentlysecure. Possibly it was even better this way. He looked scornfully atthe two men who moved toward him.
They were dressed in the ornate court dress of the Western Empire, hesaw. Unquestionably, these were genuine men of the west. But he was nowof the east. And here, he had established himself, and would soonestablish himself more firmly, while they were mere foreigners. When itcame to it, the Duke would hardly dare be too critical of him.Confidently, he pushed his way past the nearer of the two westerners, tofollow the Duke to the audience chamber.
As the Duke faced about, one of the newcomers stepped forward.
"There is the man, Excellency," he said positively. "Here is no man ofnoble birth. This man is a serf--a mere scullery boy-who murdered hisnoble master to steal his insignia. We have searched for many years, forhis crime was so monstrous that no effort could be too great to bringhim to justice." He faced Bel Menstal.
"Flor, serf of Budorn," he said sternly, "your time of reckoning hascome. Hand over the stolen insignia."
The Duke intervened.
"Aren't we going a little fast?" he asked mildly. "He claims to be ayounger son of the Earl of Konewar. Let him speak in his defense."
The stranger nodded. "That we learned, Excellency," he admitted. "Andthat is what led us to him, for it is one of the great holes in hisstory. We know of Konewar. True, he had two sons, but the younger waskilled several years ago." He paused.
"There is a further bit of evidence I might offer," he added. "And Ifeel sure that some study by your chamberlain will bear me out." Hepointed at the coronet worn by Florel.
"That insignia of rank which this man profanes is never given to otherthan the rightful heir to a great estate. And then, not until hesucceeds to his title. No younger member of any of our noble familieshas ever been allowed the coronet or the belt. Even many largelandholders, such as I, do not have them. Those are reserved for theheads of the great houses, and there are few of them in existence.Certainly, no western Earl would desert his holdings to journey to farlands and to take service with another, not even one so highly placed asyourself."
The Duke looked sharply at him, then turned his gaze on his vassal."These words have the ring of truth," he said. "Can you answer them?Have you perchance traded upon our unfamiliarity with your home countryto misrepresent your station?"
Flor looked around the room. Possibly there was still time to----Orpossibly he could still face these men down. Only one of them wore acoronet. He drew himself up arrogantly.
"These are cunning deceivers," he stated positively. "When I leftKonewar, my father himself----"
Meinora raised a hand threateningly. "Your father was never in Konewar,Serf," he said sternly. "Your father still tends his master's fields inthe hills of Budoris."
Flor snatched his sword from its sheath. This was the unprotected one.He could be struck with the sword, and perhaps in the confusion, anescape would be possible.
"That is the last insult," he snarled. "I challenge you to combat, totest whether you can support your lies."
"Nobles," was the reply, "do not fight with serfs. You should know that.The great ones, like him," Meinora pointed at Konar, who stood close tothe Duke, "have no contact with such as you. But I am here. And when aserf becomes insolent, we have ways of punishing him."
Konar smiled a little, pointing a small object as Meinora slipped hisown sword out.
Flor lunged furiously, and Meinora stepped aside. The man haddetermination and fierce courage. But he had never bothered to reallylearn the use of his weapon. No need, of course. He had never beencompelled to put up a defense. Not till now. The hand weapon held byKonar would destroy his invulnerability.
Meinora struck suddenly at Flor's hand with the flat of his blade, thenengaged the man's sword with his own, and twisted. The weapon clatteredto the floor and Flor stooped to recover it.
The team chief laughed shortly, bringing the flat of his blade down in aresounding smack and Flor straightened, involuntarily bringing a hand tohis outraged rear. Again, the blade descended, bringing a spurt of dustfrom his clothing. Flor twisted, trying to escape, but his assailantfollowed, swinging blow after full armed blow with the flat of hissword. He worked with cool skill.
It seemed to Flor that the punishing steel came from all directions, tostrike him at will. Blows fell on his back, his legs, even his face, andhe cringed away, trying desperately to escape the stinging pain. Underthe smarting blows, he remembered previous whippings, administered by astrong-armed kitchen master, and he seemed to smell the stench of thescullery once more. Suddenly, he sank to his knees in surrender.
"Please, Master. No more, please." He raised his hands, palms together,and looked up pleadingly.
The Duke looked down in horrified disgust.
"And this, I accepted. This, I made a Baron of my realm." He transferredhis gaze to Konar. Suddenly, he looked feeble and humbly supplicant.
Flor sniffled audibly.
"I know you have come a long way," the Duke said, "but I would ask ofyou a favor. I would deal with this miscreant. Your injury is old. Ithas been partially healed by time, and it does not involve honor sodeeply as does my own." He shook his head.
"I have abandoned the dignity of my station, and the injury is fresh andmust continue unless I act to repair it."
Konar nodded graciously. "Your Excellency's request is just," he said."We but came to reclaim the lost insignia of Budorn." He steppedforward, taking the circlet from Flor's head. Two guards seized theprisoner, and Konar tore the belt from the man's waist.
"This insigne must be remounted," he said. "The belt has been dishonoredfor too long." He broke the fastenings holding the body shield to theleather, and threw the heavy strap back at Flor.
"We are deeply indebted to you, Excellency," he added, turning to theDuke. "If it is your will, we shall remain only for the execution, thenreturn to our own land."
The Duke sighed. "It is well." He nodded at the guards. "Remove him," heordered. "An execution will be held at daybreak."
* * * * *
_"Very good, Konar. You handled that beautifully."_
_"Thanks, Chief. What's next?"_
_"Just keep the Duke busy with bright conversation. Buck up his spiritsa bit. The old boy's had a nasty shock, and unfortunately, he's due foranother one. Too bad, but it's for the best. I'll take it from here."_
* * * * *
Diners looked up curiously as the two guards led Flor through the hallto the outer door. A few rose and followed as the three men went pastthe sentrie
s at the portal, and came out into the sunshine of the innerward. Across the cobblestones was the narrow entrance to the dungeon.
Flor looked around despairingly. His charger stood, waiting for therider, who would never again--Or would he?
He remembered that he was still carrying the heavy belt that had been socontemptuously flung at him. When the strap had been thrown, he hadflung a hand up to protect his already aching face. He had caught andheld the belt, and no one had thought to take it from him.
He suddenly swerved his thick shoulders, swinging the heavy strap at theeyes of one of his guards. With a cry of pain, the man covered his face,and Flor spun, to swing the strap at the other guard. Before the