He hath deliveredmy soul in peace from the battle that was against me: for there were many with me. – Psalms 55:18
Count Wyeth Poldara closed the door behind Herald Tobias.
The news of the attack on Kensie shook him; Wyeth did not believe Magistrate Lynch's conclusion for a moment. This was an attempt to murder his son and, by extension, an attack on Wyeth himself.
A hundred possibilities played through Count Wyeth's mind. Few of them seemed convincing. Of the many possibilities, half a dozen stood out. Each of those represented a different threat, but Herald Tobias' information gave Wyeth no basis to choose among them. The attack could be the act of a fool. These worried Wyeth the least as the fools would betray themselves by their actions over the next few moons. What worried Count Wyeth were the ones who were not fools. Those would give no sign of their involvement and were devious enough to wait for another opportunity to strike.
In the meantime, Kensie would be here in Haven and under Wyeth's eye. It would be harder for someone to strike unobserved in the court and in the city. While the numbers made it easier to vanish in the crowd, those same numbers would mean that Kensie would always be surrounded by other people.
Wyeth's own plan for Kensie would keep the boy near and busy.
One thing did please the Count: Kensie had fought back and killed his attacker, rather than make a futile attempt to escape. In addition to his experience during the war, Wyeth had reports of Tedrels in County Poldara; he did not underestimate their fighting skills or their ruthlessness. If Kensie had turned to run, he would not have made it to the door.
…
Forced to stay in Leuven, Kensie remained at 'The Blue and The White'. The Murrays went out of their way to make amends for the attack and apologized profusely. They insisted on waiving the charge for the room and Kensie's meals. Kensie was somewhat embarrassed by their attention as he did not fault them for what he thought was an attempted robbery.
In the evening, as Kensie ate in the common room, he became aware that people were watching him and pointing him out to their neighbors. For once, the interest was curious rather than hostile. One or two came over and congratulated him on killing the bandit, drawing a blush from Kensie. Being a celebrity, Kensie found, was nearly as uncomfortable as being an outcast.
Shortly before the bard was about to begin her performance for the evening, a man dressed in livery arrived at the inn. He spotted Kensie immediately due to the Kensie's expensive clothes and came over to the table. Kensie rose to greet the man.
"Lord Kensie Poldara?" The man asked. When Kensie acknowledged who he was, the man went on. "I am Walden Gollege, houseman-second to Baron Hans Nemeth."
"Greetings, Master Gollege. What may I do for you?" Kensie was curious as to why the Baron would send the man to him.
"I am ordered by the Baron to convey his apologies for the attack on your person. It is an embarrassment to Baron Nemeth and to his overlord, Earl Orthallen, that this should occur in his fief."
Only the years of training in Courtly Graces prevented Kensie from reacting angrily. As Baron of Bransat, he was Baron Nemeth's peer. Their ranks were precisely equivalent, as Kensie held his rank from his father in exactly the same way that Baron Nemeth held Leuven from Earl Orthallen. Baron Nemeth had refused Kensie hospitality in Leuven House. Implicitly, the Baron had dismissed Kensie as unworthy of recognition. Now, by way of apology, the Baron had not only declined to do so in person but had sent not his principal servant, but the assistant to his principal servant to fulfill the formalities. Further, such apology should have been tendered as soon as Baron Nemeth heard of it rather than so late in the day that the delay was obvious. The insult was deliberate and measured.
Kensie sat down. He did not signal that the other should. Casually, omitting even the nod-to-one-of-lesser-rank, Kensie said "I note the Baron's sincere concern and thank him for his care. I thank him for sending a busy person such as yourself to convey his feelings. I am sure he is concerned for all travellers in his demesne. Please tender him my appreciation and regret that I shall not have leisure to attend him before I depart in the morning."
Gollege relaxed, taking Kensie's 'regret' at face value. He bowed and left. Kensie was sure the Baron would fully appreciate the studied condescension of his reply.
Kensie had a light breakfast and left Leuven before dawn. Since there would be clothing and servants waiting for him at the Manor in Haven, he did not wait for Geoffrey to finish packing but left his manservant to follow on his own. Blood could far outpace Geoffrey's horse and the baggage horse; Kensie could be at his family's residence by late afternoon.
The day was cold and grey. Blood was fresh from the enforced day of rest and jigged with impatience as Kensie rode out. Despite the stallion's eagerness, Kensie walked him for the first mile then trotted the second to warm the horse's muscles properly before giving him his head. Released, Blood squealed his happiness as he tore off at a gallop.
Kensie leaned into the wind of their passage, laughing at the thrill of feeling the powerful animal beneath him. Taking the reins in his right hand, he pulled his left glove off to stroke the stallion's neck. The horse flicked an ear at Kensie's touch and ran harder.
The day was just beginning and there were few travellers yet, so Kensie was able to give Blood a good long gallop without crowding or cutting in on the others on the road.
When Kensie sensed the horse had had enough, he checked him lightly, bringing him first to a trot and then to a walk. Blood huffed and blew as he settled into the walk. He jigged occasionally, ready to run again. Kensie laughed and stroked the arched neck; Blood rumbled with pleasure at his master's caress.
By mid-morning, the road was crowded with people going to and from Haven. Kensie held Blood to a fast walk, picking his way between the other travellers.
There were a few high-born among those on the road. Kensie greeted them all with a smile. Half returned his greeting courteously, many others recognized him or his device and either ignored him or bid him a cold "Good day." Kensie pretended not to notice the slights. A very few invited Kensie to travel with them; Kensie politely declined. He could travel faster alone than the Lords encumbered by their trains.
Kensie stopped for a brief lunch at a country inn, allowing Blood a chance to rest and graze before moving on.
By mid-afternoon, the walls of Haven were in sight. He entered the city on the trade road, which gave him a more direct route to his family's manor. As he passed the inns, a flock of street urchins surrounded him offering to guide him to an in or a manor house for a copper. Kensie laughed at their antics as they competed for his attention. Kensie knew the way to the manor, he had no need of a guide.
He spotted one boy in an outrageous red and orange striped outfit and pointed at him. "You, lad, what is your name?"
"I be Spod, sor." The boy replied, grinning broadly. His accent was thick.
"Spod, you look like you are a fast runner. Do you know the way to Poldara House?" Kensie asked.
"I be the fastest runner here, sor. An' I ken Poldara House." Spod replied.
The other boys shouted out, claiming they were faster; Kensie ignored them. Kensie pulled a copper from his purse. "Go to Poldara House and tell them Lord Kensie has arrived in Haven. Tell them I am coming to the house." He tossed the copper to the boy. "Wait for me there and I'll give you another copper."
Spod snatched the copper from the air and shot off. Kensie knew that the boy could eel through the crowded streets faster than Kensie could on his horse, especially as he could take shortcuts that Kensie either could not or would not follow.
It took nearly half a candlemark for Kensie to reach Poldara House through the winding, congested streets of the city. When he reached the street of the family house, Spod was standing at the gate beside the major-domo, Piran Couch, who was anxiously watching for his master's son.
Kensie pulled another copper from his pouch and tossed it to the boy. The major-domo glared after Spod as the boy ran off.
Kensie dismounted as Piran Couch welcomed him. Reluctantly, Kensie handed Blood's reins off to the stableman and followed the major-domo inside.
Kensie learned that his father was still at the Palace, but was expected to return home for dinner that evening. The Master Couch had sent a messenger to tell Count Poldara his son had arrived.
Kensie went to his suite where a hot bath was waiting. Once he had washed the dust from the road from his body, the second butler, who had some experience with wounds, poulticed and rebandaged the cut on Kensie's back.
Leaving word with the major-domo that he was to be summoned immediately when his father arrived, Kensie went to the library. He chose a book on Lord Marshal Count Miron Poldara's campaign against the Pirate Insurrection during King Clevis' reign and sat down by the fire to read.
A candlemark later, Kensie put down his book. It was growing dark outside. He went to the window where could see the lamplighters setting the streetlamps for the night. This was a wealthy neighborhood and the noble residents demanded that their streets be lit to ward off footpads and housebreakers.
Kensie leaned close to the window and looked as far down the street as he could. There was a party approaching, one man mounted surrounded by a retinue. From the way the rider sat, Kensie was sure it was his father.
Heedless of decorum, Kensie raced out of the library and down to the entry hall. Piran Couch was just opening the door to go out and greet Count Wyeth as the latter came into the yard. Kensie rushed past the major-domo to stand before his father's horse.
Count Wyeth's face lit up in the broadest smile Kensie had ever seen. He dismounted and threw his arms around his son. He kissed his son on the cheek and said "I am so glad to see you are alive and well." With his arm around Kensie, Wyeth marched up the stairs and into the house.
Count Wyeth asked about Lady Lora and Naril and Grayson. Kensie reported that they were all well and that Lady Lora seemed to be enjoying her pregnancy. When Kensie mentioned the attack, Count Wyeth touch his finger to his son's lip and said they would discuss it in his office after dinner.
Kensie escorted his father to his suite, where they embraced again before Kensie left his father to freshen up before dinner.
During dinner, Count Wyeth told Kensie about the common gossip of the Court, including the mounting pressure on Queen Selenay to find a husband. "Personally, I think we should use the prospect of an alliance marriage to dangle before foreign princes and keep them being nice to us for a while. Selenay is young and we could play the neighbors off for a few years. Pity that King Alessander of Hardorn just remarried, though. An alliance or union with Hardorn might intimidate Karse into forgetting about their Holy War."
Wyeth questioned Kensie about what he had done over the summer. Kensie did not complain about the way that Chase Tanner and Hwyl Fian had driven him, but only said that Hwyl's training had probably saved his life two nights before. When Kensie mentioned that the horsemaster had permitted him to ride Eagle, Wyeth raised an eyebrow in astonishment. Kensie caught his father's look; rather than repeat Chase Tanner's 'reason' for allowing Kensie to ride Eagle, Kensie praised the horse.
Wyeth asked Kensie about his imprisonment for assault. Aware that his father's agents had probably briefed the Count already, Kensie reported the events as accurately as he could, avoiding either embellishing the story or excusing himself.
"I cannot condone assault, my son, but I think you acted correctly" was all Wyeth said. In truth, Wyeth thought that, in picking a personal fight with Perry Cork, Kensie had probably won more respect than if he had arranged for the miller's son to be prosecuted for slander.
Once dinner was over, Count Wyeth took Kensie to the study.
Kensie's jaw dropped. In a frame on the left side of his father's desk hung the clothes he had worn during his time in gaol. Below his clothes were the shackles. The frame was identical to the frame on the right that surrounded the whip that had been used on Count Miron Poldara centuries before.
Wyeth patted his son on the back. "You made me proud when you accepted the consequence of your actions. That is what makes a man and a leader."
He gestured to a seat by the fireplace, taking another beside his son.
"First, I want you to describe to me everything that happened the night you were attacked. I want every detail from the moment you left Bransat until you left the inn this morning."
Kensie told the story of the attack as he remembered it and the inquest the next day. When he mentioned Baron Nemeth's 'apology', Wyeth asked Kensie for the exact words spoken by the houseman-second.
Kensie repeated the words as closely as he could. Wyeth looked speculative as he mulled them over. When Kensie told his father of his reply, Wyeth grinned. "That will put a burr in that bugger Nemeth's arse."
Kensie went on with his story. When he was done, Wyeth stared into the fire for a long time. At last he sighed and looked at the boy. "My son, you are frightfully naïve in many ways. It is well past time that you learned to recognize the hand of an enemy. This was not a robbery. It was an attempt to murder you."
Kensie went white. "Why?" was all he could say.
"I do not know the why of it. If I did, I could tell you who was behind it." Wyeth looked into the fire contemplatively.
"How do you know?" Kensie asked, still frightened by the thought that he would be a target for murder.
Wyeth continued to watch the fire. In the tone of a casual conversation, he explained. "First, the fact that you were on the upper floor of an inn with a Herald in a nearby room. No ordinary robber would seek a target in such an inaccessible place with so many people about. Not only would you have arms nearby, but there were many other armed people about, including a Herald.
"Second, there were merchants in the inn, any one of whom would have had more in their purse and on their person than you. Why choose to rob someone of high birth when there were easier, richer pickings nearby.
"Third, your attacker had nearly sixty crowns on his person and in the compartment of his saddle. Robbers with that much loot do not take the kind of risk your attacker did. Especially former Tedrel mercenaries, whose robberies are generally in the back streets and on the highways. My judges have hanged a dozen Tedrels in Poldara County since the last battle. Every one of them has been a simple brigand, preying on travellers and isolated farmers. None of them has been a burglar or housebreaker. If your attacker had accumulated that much money, he would have set himself up in a town for a while to build a new identity and find an easier way to live.
"Finally, how did the window come to be unlatched? It is now cold at night; there is no reason to open it." Wyeth looked directly at Kensie as he asked this.
Kensie sat bolt upright. He had paid no attention to that fact. "But only Geoffrey and I were in the room!" He said. "Unless the innkeeper or the robber went in…"
"Jaim Murray's family has kept that inn for a century. I've stayed there myself and I have seen the pride he takes in his inn. He would not throw that away at the bidding of a thief. The hall servant would have noticed a stranger entering the room when you are away." Wyeth dismissed Kensie's notion.
Kensie's mind boggled at what his father implied. "You mean Geoffrey…"
"Yes." Wyeth said. "Your servant betrayed you. I doubt he understood that the intention was to murder you, otherwise he might have realized that he would be killed as well."
Kensie was outraged at the betrayal. "I'll see the blackguard hanged!"
"Why?" Wyeth said.
Kensie looked at his father in astonishment. "He was an accomplice…" he began.
"So? Do you imagine that this was Geoffrey's first betrayal? Do you think that his visits to the Boarshead were for the sole purpose of slandering you to the patrons?" Wyeth's tone was cold and analytical.
"All the more reason to be rid of him." Kensie said.
"Why not use him instead?" Wyeth asked.
At Kensie's perplexed look, Wyeth explained. "We have an enemy agent in our midst, but we do not know his master – I doubt that Geoffrey himself knows anything more than the false name his contact has given him – or his master's purpose. So we keep Geoffrey, we feed him information that we want our enemies to know or believe, we follow him and watch who he meets. Then we watch the ones he meets until we find the master."
Kensie looked into the fire, contemplating what his father said. After a long silence, he chuckled. "I like it, not least because when his master finds out that Geoffrey has been turned against him, he'll probably kill the bastard. It is going to be hard for me to hide that I know him for a spy, however."
"Think of it as practice in Courtly Graces, where you must mask what you truly feel behind flattery and false promises and keep your purpose hidden."
Kensie nodded. He could do what his father suggested.
"Enough for that." Wyeth said. "Now we must discuss the reason I brought you here: To save your inheritance."
Kensie felt a cold chill down his spine. "Save my inheritance?" He said.
Wyeth sighed. "Yes. I cannot pass Poldara to someone with a reputation of cowardice, even if that reputation is undeserved. My vassals and my tenants would destroy such an heir in a few years and destroy our family in the process.
"That leaves out the damage to the County and the Kingdom that would ensue. The Queen and Council cannot ignore such a risk. At the present time, they would not recognize you as my heir. They dare not."
Kensie looked bleak at his father's blunt assessment, but did not dispute it. The events of the past fortnight had made it clear how precarious Kensie's position was even now, while his father could still shield him. Once his father was gone, the wolves would be at his throat.
"So am I to be disinherited?" He asked.
"As I have said, I have brought you here in an attempt to save your inheritance and your place as my heir." Count Wyeth did not add that passing over the eldest son in favor of a younger carried other risks that could prove equally damaging to his lineage.
The Count put his hand on his son's shoulder. "I cannot promise that we will succeed. I promise that I will do everything in my power to secure your inheritance. It will be difficult and it will demand your full devotion to the task. Will you promise me that you will give this everything you have in you?"
"I promise, father." Kensie said, though he wondered if he could succeed.
"We will begin tomorrow evening." Count Wyeth said. "I am taking you to meet a man who, while unpopular in many quarters, possesses unquestioned honor and courage. If you can sway this man to your side, I believe you will save your name and place."
The next day, Count Poldara took his son to the Palace. If Kensie had doubted the precariousness of his position before, there could be no doubt after the scores of slights and snubs he endured from the highborn – and even the servants of the highborn – in the Royal Court.
That evening, Kensie followed his father to the salle. Familiar with it from previous visits to Haven, Kensie was nonetheless puzzled why his father would bring him here.
The Weaponsmaster was waiting for them and escorted them to a sitting room in his private quarters . Through the window, dimly illuminated by the light from the room, Kensie could see the ghostly figure of a powerfully built Companion – presumably the Weaponsmaster's – watching them.
"Herald Alberich," Count Wyeth began, "thank you for agreeing to see me."
"Welcome, Count Poldara. What may I do for you?" Alberich's eyes flicked briefly to Kensie.
"I need your assistance to save my son's reputation." Wyeth said. The Weaponsmaster raised his eyebrows as the Count went on. "I assume you are aware of the accusation that my son showed cowardice in the final battle against the Tedrels. If he is to succeed me as Count, he needs to demonstrate that he is not a coward."
Kensie flushed at the blunt summary.
Alberich eyed Kensie; the boy felt as though the Weaponsmaster were seeing right down to his gut and the pounding of his heart.
After a long pause, Alberich said. "I cannot make a brave man of a coward, but reputation and truth are two different things." Alberich spoke carefully, measuring every word with the precise Valdemaran he could use at need. "Tell me your story. I want to know everything you did that day."
Kensie repeated his story of the battle from the moment he arose in the morning until his return to the camp at the end of the day. When he spoke of waiting behind the lines, he caught an anxious look from his father and omitted having seen the man in Orthallen's livery.
When Kensie finished, Alberich asked him questions about how he felt when he first broke and how he reacted after Sendar fell.
"You say you were at the stream when the Queen came forward to see her father. What do you remember?"
Kensie told how he had seen the Queen draw back the banner and look at her father's face then cover him once more and bid them bear him away.
"Did you notice anything around her?"
"I noticed a female Herald – she looked like a clerk, including marks on her nose where spectacles would rest – sitting on her Companion holding Selenay's banner aloft. At first I thought it was strange that she did not dismount, then I noticed she looked like she was in pain and her leg was at an awkward angle as if it was broken." Kensie said.
Alberich's eyes flicked to Kantor for the tiniest moment.
::He saw Myste.:: Kantor said. ::Her broken leg was a detail that was left out of almost all the stories told about that moment.::
Alberich stared at the boy once more. Kensie tried not fidget under the Weaponsmaster's searching gaze. "Please," Kensie pleaded, "put your Truth Spell on me. Let me prove what I say." Wyeth looked at his son with alarm.
Alberich sighed. "The Truth Spell is for use at genuine need, not to satisfy curiosity. The fact that you ask me to do this means you are either telling the truth or far more devious than is usual for one your age."
He looked at the Count. "Count Wyeth, I believe your son. It is common for green troops to break at their first encounter in a battle. They usually recover themselves and perform with honor after that. I think your son has gone through the first shock and will not break again."
Kensie closed his eyes and bent his head. He felt tears forming.
"However, Lord Wyeth," Alberich continued, "I cannot change the opinions of the Court. Many of the high-born dislike me and would dispute anything I said. I do not see how I can help you."
The Count nodded in agreement. "I agree opinions do not change easily. I assume you have heard of what happened to my son in Leuven?"
"Herald Tobias informed me. A brass lamp is not a common weapon, but anything can be used as one by a brave man." Alberich gave the ghost of a smile as he spoke.
"My son acted bravely. A coward would have tried to flee…"
"And died in the attempt." Alberich interjected.
"…and died before he made it to the door." Wyeth agreed. "But that has not changed the opinions of my peers to any measurable degree.
"The only way to change their opinions is for my son to demonstrate good character over a long period of time under the tutelage of someone whose bravery is unquestioned. Someone like yourself.
"That is what I am asking: That you take Kensie as one of your students and drive him as hard as you drive your Heraldic Trainees so that he may prove himself an honorable man. Only thus can he redeem himself in the eyes of his peers and be deemed worthy to be my heir."
Alberich leaned forward, intrigued by Wyeth's request. "Many of your peers say I am brutal and savage." He said.
"War is brutal and savage. So is the politics of the Court, though my peers cover it with a fine veneer of polite language." Wyeth replied.
"I will demand that he give me his fullest effort." Alberich warned.
Wyeth looked at his son. "Kensie will obey your instruction and devote himself whole heartedly to meeting your highest standards. He will not shirk or show the slightest disrespect. He will do this or lose his inheritance."
Kensie looked up. Tears flowed freely down his face. This man had believed him! At last, someone had believed him! It was balm to his soul, something he had longed for ever since the day of the battle. "I will not fail you, Herald Alberich." Kensie said it as an oath.
Alberich looked away. For someone trained to stoic restraint, the naked emotion on the boy's face was hard to watch. "Do not disappoint me." was all he said.
Alberich stood. "Very well, Count Wyeth. I will instruct your son. Perhaps we will still the disapproving tongues."
Kensie and the Count shook the Weaponsmaster's hand and showed themselves out.
Alberich sat down. He glanced through the window at Kantor. ::Well?:: He asked his Companion.
::I believe the boy.:: Kantor replied. ::Right now, I think he would give his life in gratitude for your belief.::
::What I would like to know.:: Kantor continued. ::Is what he did not tell us about the battle. He saw something. Something his father knows about and did not want him to disclose.::
::Agreed.:: Alberich said. ::There is a dangerous secret there. Something that the Count himself fears to speak about. I hope it is merely a matter of Court politics. In time, the boy may trust sufficiently to tell me that.::
::Court politics has a way of bringing worse dangers in its wake.:: Kantor remarked.
Alberich could only agree with his Companion. The time was late. For once, he decided to spend the night in his bed. The scum of Haven could fester without him tonight.