"How could you be such a bloody fool?" Count Wyeth Poldara sat at his desk, staring at his son.
Kensie stood rigidly on the carpet five feet in front of his father's desk. He said nothing.
"First, you decide to take offense at an offhand remark by a boy four years younger than you. You refuse to accept his apology and attempt to run him down with your horse. You beat the boy who makes no attempt to resist you, knocking him down three times. When he still refuses to fight, you draw a knife on him." The Count almost shouted the last. "To save his life, the boy puts you on the ground three times before he disarms you and runs away. You chase after him on your horse and this time you do run him down before he finds shelter where you cannot get at him. "
In a voice so soft as to be almost inaudible, Wyeth asked "What have you got to say for yourself?"
Kensie, whose jaw had clenched tighter as his father summarized his encounter with Bredin, stared at the portrait of Dashan Poldara that hung behind the desk. The portrait showed his ancestor flanked by his children. His heir, Miron Poldara, grasped the Lord Marshal's baton below his father's hand, symbolizing the fact that Miron had succeeded his father in that post. Dashan's other two sons and his daughter appeared with their Companions behind them.
The silence stretched out. Wyeth, experienced in Courtly manners, waited patiently, knowing that, if he kept silent, Kensie would eventually be forced to speak.
Kensie, unable to bear the silence, finally attempted to justify himself. "The filthy peasant insulted my honor." He said.
"So, in an attempt to defend your honor, you utterly disgraced yourself." The Count put no emphasis on the words. The very blandness of his tone made the remark more cutting than any note of contempt.
"He said he could beat me in a fight!" Kensie reacted defensively.
"It appears that you proved him right." Wyeth continued in the same bland tone.
"He used that monkish trickery!" Kensie said.
"That 'monkish trickery', as you refer to it, is one of the most polished and refined forms of combat in this Kingdom." Now Count Wyeth allowed his contempt to show. "Nobles spend fortunes to hire masters who can teach it to their sons. If young Bredin has advanced to the point where he can best you – four years his senior and half again his weight – in only four moons, he will be able to kill you with his bare hands by the time he is your age. Think about that next time you decide to attack him."
"I was only trying to put the peasant in his place!" Kensie said.
"The law does not recognize that as grounds for assault." The Count said.
"The law?" For the first time, Kensie sounded worried.
"The law." His father replied. "You could be charged with three counts of common assault - one for each time you knocked the boy down for refusing to fight you – and five counts of assault with a deadly weapon for the three attempts with your dagger and the two attacks with your horse."
"I only chased him on horseback." Kensie said.
"Do you think a warhorse is a toy?" The Count snapped. "Kerenos! You are a fool! A warhorse is a dangerous weapon, both in fact and in law. If you haven't figured that out, you shouldn't have one."
Kensie blanched. "You can't take Blood away!" He pleaded with his father.
"I can. I think I will." Wyeth said flatly. "From now until Chase Tanner goes south with my troops, he will exercise your horse. You will not ride the horse or come within thirty feet of him at any time.
"That's not fair!" Kensie pleaded with his father.
"Not fair?" Wyeth was contemptuous. "You will be very lucky if Master Kase does not press charges in court. He could, you know. You can be criminally charged at your age."
"But he is just a common peasant." Kensie protested.
The Count sighed. "Unlike other Kingdoms, your rank will not protect you from a serious charge like assault. In Valdemar, you could be put in gaol. If the Assembly of Nobles thinks your misconduct is serious enough, you could be degraded from the nobility. The County and your Barony would pass to Grayson." Wyeth knew the chances of that happening in this instance were miniscule, but he deliberately exaggerated the potential risk for Kensie; he wanted to make the boy think of consequences.
"Please, no!" Kensie begged his father.
"I will go to Master Kase tomorrow and offer a suffering price to settle the matter with him. Fortunately, I think he will be more willing to accept it than young Bredin would. I doubt I'd be able to buy the boy off with two shillings." The ironic twist that Wyeth placed on the last sentence raised the hairs on Kensie's neck.
"Two shillings?" Kensie repeated warily.
"Isn't that the sum you paid him to keep quiet for helping you spy out the horse the day we took the beast to Master Kase's saddlery?" The count smiled ironically at his son.
"The peasant couldn't keep quiet?" Kensie was outraged.
"Oh, the boy didn't tell. It was pretty obvious that there was someone else in that shed. My agents spotted you leaving and saw you hand the boy two shillings afterwards. He kept quiet, but you didn't buy him. He threw the coins in the river. If he hates you that much, I couldn't buy him off charging you criminally with all the gold in my treasury. Fortunately, his father appears more reasonable."
Kensie stood open-mouthed, torn between outrage at Bredin's contemptuous gesture and shock at discovering his father had spied on him. He chose the latter. "You spied on me?"
"Of course I do." His father said. "Being spied on is a fact of life among the nobility. If you don't find out what is going on behind your back, you are going to find a knife in it when you least expect it. Get used to that fact and govern yourself accordingly. Every noble is spied upon.
"Do you think Lord Orthallen will be impressed when he finds out about your little fight yesterday? What do you think his opinion will be of a fool who not only provokes a fight with a commoner, but loses the fight to boot? Do you think Lord Orthallen will want such a person as his squire?"
"Squire?" Kensie asked.
Count Wyeth sighed once more. "Yes. Squire. I was making tentative approaches to place you as a squire in Lord Orthallen's house. It would put you in a favorable position for future advancement. Or would have. There is no way that that can happen now."
"If we buy off Master Kase, won't that put an end to it?" Kensie asked.
"No. Lord Orthallen would certainly have sent agents to investigate you as soon as I made inquiries. He needs to know as much as possible about anyone he accepts into his entourage. He will hear all about this matter within a sennight."
For the first time, Kensie became aware that the consequences of his actions could reach far beyond the immediate. "Is there any way to fix it?" His voice was pleading.
"For now, no." Wyeth's voice was flat. "If you are a model of noble grace, prudence and bearing for the next few years, you may be able to repair your reputation. In the meantime, the best we can hope is that Master Kase will accept the suffering price."
"I wish you wouldn't deal with him." Kensie said.
His father raised his eyebrows. "Why shouldn't I deal with the finest saddler in Poldara County? Because you don't like his son? Listen to me! You are going to have to deal with a lot of people you dislike over the years. Smile and get over it. I only hope that Master Kase doesn't decide to move to Haven. I am going to continue to patronize him because I don't want him to leave. If he moves to Haven, the line of highborn and wealthy commissioning saddles from him is going to run from the horse market to the Palace gate. Here, at least, I can expect some preference for my commissions."
Kensie puzzled this over. The idea that you could deal with someone that you personally disliked was new to him.
"In the meantime," his father brought his attention back to the issue at hand "you will not be allowed to ride that horse until I leave for the south. In fact, you will not ride any horse except while travelling with me or your mother. Chase will ride your stallion and Grayson will ride your palfrey. You will spend the time studying law with Master Raab. It is time you learned something about the law in any case. Juran was a lawyer's clerk before I hired him to tutor you, Naril and Grayson.
"That is all. You are dismissed." The Count pulled a paper from the stack at his side.
As Kensie reached the door of his father's study, Wyeth called "And Kensie."
Kensie looked back.
"Don't think you can borrow a horse from one of your friends, either. You are not to ride any horse, period. Remember, I will be watching."
Count Poldara bent back to his paperwork and Kensie left the room.
For Bredin, the morning was a triumph. His name was on everyone's lips and his battle – often in greatly exaggerated form – was discussed from the barnyards of the cowherds to the office of Reeve Dane. The common people freely expressed their delight that "the little lordling" had been trounced. The more official people of the town publicly decried the disrespect to the highborn while privately enjoying Lord Kensie's well-deserved humiliation. All who met Bredin on his way to the temple that morning waved to him and cheered.
Bredin, worried that Father Toma would be angry, waved back quietly and tried not to gloat.
Bredin's fears of Father Toma's disapproval were unfounded. In the courtyard of the temple and in front of all his friends and fellow students, Bredin blushed as Father Toma praised his courage in refusing to fight and fleeing when he was able. Father Toma did not mention how Bredin had tumbled and disarmed Kensie, although he well knew that the story had spread through the entire village.
Father Toma wanted to emphasize to Bredin and his fellow students that fighting was to be avoided and that it was better to run from a senseless fight than to cover oneself with the mantle of hero. The priest was no fool – he knew that many would lionize Bredin for humiliating Kensie – but he hoped to nurture a few notions that peace was better than war among his flock.
In the afternoon, Father Toma quietly drew Bredin aside and praised his skill while praising his efforts at peacemaking more. "I know it was humbling for you to beg forgiveness of that highborn snot"- Bredin's eyebrows shot up at the priest's bald epithet – "but I will tell you that that is the most mature, grown-up thing I have ever seen you do. I was very proud of you when I heard that."
"I was just trying to do what you told me to do." Bredin said.
"Keep on trying, Bredin. Each time you succeed in avoiding a fight, it will be easier the next time. You will get better at it as you go along." Father Toma did not tell Bredin that there would be times he lost his temper and fought; better to emphasize success for now and deal with the backsliding when it happened.
"I must warn you, Bredin. Lord Kensie is going to feel humiliated by what happened yesterday. He may seek revenge on you or cause trouble for your family. Avoid him if you can and say nothing about this."
Bredin remembered the Priest's warning before Midwinter. He worried that Count Poldara might take revenge on his father. "A lot of people are talking about it already, what can I do?" He asked.
"Not much for now." Father Toma said. "People will talk no matter what you do. If someone asks about it, you can say that you want to avoid trouble. That's honest and it is something that most will understand."
"I will do that, Father." Bredin promised.
Father Toma dismissed Bredin and sent him back to his classes.
The meeting between Count Wyeth and Enro Kase started awkwardly. When Count Wyeth arrived, Enro expected the worst: That the Count would arrest Enro for Bredin's 'disrespect' to Kensie. Enro braced himself accordingly.
The Count began "I have come about the altercation between my son and yours yesterday. I would like to suggest a suffering price of ten crowns."
Master Kase froze, wondering how he could afford to pay half a year's income. His next thought was outrage that Bredin's actions could have cost him so much. His anger at Bredin showed in his voice. "My Lord, I will take that out of the boy's hide."
Count Wyeth, thinking that Enro meant Kensie when he said 'the boy', winced. He thought that Enro had decided to make a complaint after all. Given what Count Wyeth knew of Kensie's conduct, even Magistrate Rains would have to hand down a harsh punishment.
"Would thirty crowns be sufficient?" The Count asked.
Enro, speechless with horror at the number, clenched his jaw.
Again misinterpreting Enro's reaction, the Count pleaded with Enro. "I am sure we both wish to keep this matter out of the courts, Master Enro." He used the soothing tones he would use to placate another nobleman in the halls of the Royal Palace.
Enro heard the count's words and tone as a threat. "I promise he won't live to see the courtroom." Enro growled.
"I do not wish to see Kensie's career destroyed before it has begun." Count Wyeth now begged.
Zelar, quicker on the uptake than her husband, now realized the Count's intent. "Milord, we certainly have no wish to harm Lord Kensie. My husband feared you held Bredin at fault."
Count Wyeth stopped, dumbfounded. Abruptly, he realized how Enro had understood his habit of speaking in discrete, courtly terms. He laughed out loud. "I am sorry, Master Kase, I should have spoken more clearly. I was offering to pay you, not demanding payment."
Enro looked baffled. "But Bredin was disrespectful…" He began.
The Count decided to be gracious. Smiling, he said "If someone attacked me with a knife and a warhorse, I would be a great deal more than disrespectful, Master Kase. No matter what the attacker's rank. I believe your son behaved with much more honor than my own.
"Will you allow me to make amends on behalf of my son?"
Now Enro was dumbfounded. "Bredin wasn't wrong?" he said.
Seeing her husband's confusion, Zelar spoke up. "Your Lordship is most forgiving and we are grateful to you for your offer of thirty crowns to settle this matter."
Wyeth smiled to himself ruefully. Zelar was not going to let him retreat to his initial offer. He guessed that, though Enro ran the shop, Zelar held the purse in the Kase household.
The negotiations concluded quickly and Wyeth's clerk, who had escorted him, drew up the agreement. Wyeth was amused to see Zelar peruse every word before she allowed Enro to sign. Once the signing was done, she assured the Count that she would explain the situation to Bredin and see that he caused no trouble.
As the two men shook hands, Enro voiced his greatest concern. "I hope Your Lordship will still favor me with his custom."
Wyeth smiled. "I always appreciate fine workmanship, Master Kase. You make the finest saddles in Poldara. I would be a fool if I went elsewhere. You are an ornament to my fief."
The Count had an inspiration. "Would it please you if I granted you an appointment as Official Saddler to the Count of Poldara? There would be a placard with my arms on the door of your shop."
With Enro still babbling thanks, the two men parted.
That evening, Zelar took Bredin aside and told him of the settlement with Count Wyeth. Bredin's first reaction was relief that there would be no further trouble with the Count. When Zelar told him that the Count had paid a suffering price, Bredin asked how much it was.
"Never mind that," Zelar said, "since you are not working in your father's shop, you may think of it as your contribution to the family."
Bredin wanted to protest that he would be happy to work in the shop, but he recognized the tone in Zelar's voice that meant the matter was closed. Bredin kept silent, though he begrudged the unfairness.