The Forgotten War (39 page)

‘And this,’ said Baron Skellar ‘is Vorfgan, Baron of Clutha.’

‘May I say what an honour it is for me to meet a daughter of Duke Hartfield.’ The man was courtesy personified. ‘Although, if I may be so bold, it was never explained to me
what a great beauty she actually is.’

‘Jewellery and expensive clothing can make anybody look impressive but I thank you for your compliment.’

‘You may not believe me but when I made that statement I hadn’t even noticed that you were wearing jewellery.’

She laughed. ‘I am not sure I believe you but, as it is our first meeting, I will give you the benefit of the doubt.’

They all sat down. The food was meaty and rich, with gravy and bread for dipping into it. There was ale and wine, which she avoided, and almond milk, which she drank thirstily. Richney explained
that it was his first trip to the north and that the Grand Duke was keen to foster both closer and friendlier relations between them and the capital. He felt that it was his purpose to bring the
various disparate elements of the country closer together, especially as it was his desire to resolve the conflict in the east as soon as was practicable.

‘Fine words indeed,’ said Vorfgan. ‘Unfortunately, the problems we have here can be a little more complex. Loyalties can shift easily; some barons are unfailingly loyal to the
Duchy, others less so. There are even some who advocate total separation and the establishment of New Kibil, what with the North’s differences in culture and religion.’

‘Bear in mind,’ said Richney, ‘that the Grand Duke has not held his position that long. He is determined to get to grips with the problems here. Tanaren is Tanaren, not Kibil,
not Arshuma, not a Chiran client state. He will be inviting several of your barons to the Tanaren Spring Council next year, so grievances can be aired and problems hopefully resolved.’

She was sure she noticed a strange gleam in Vorfgan’s sky-blue eyes at Richney’s remark. What is he thinking? she wondered.

‘I am sure most of the barons here will welcome such a gesture,’ said Baron Skellar. ‘I can see where the next problem arises as every baron up here will want to come down. May
I suggest he looks at the constituents of the Northern Council and hand-picks individuals from the various regions to speak before him? That does not include me by the way; I am not a great
traveller. Osperitsan is the limit of my horizons, I fear.’

‘And what of you, Baron Vorfgan, would you like to speak before the Grand Duke?’ said Richney earnestly.

‘I am barely established as a baron following the sad death of young Dekkan, and my lands are not extensive enough to establish me as one of the major nobles up here. My neighbour Baron
Tragsmann would be a more fitting candidate. He is far more experienced in circles of diplomacy than I.’

‘So be it,’ said Richney. ‘I shall convey all of this to the Grand Duke.’

‘The Tanaren Spring Council is held after the northern one I believe.’ Ceriana felt the need to speak. ‘In which case I am assuming the barons summoned to Tanaren will return
there with my father.’

‘I had not considered that,’ said Richney. ‘But it makes perfect sense now you mention it. Would you be travelling, too? If your husband is called south, it would make perfect
sense for you to come as well.’

‘That,’ she said, ‘would be a decision for my husband.’

They continued to eat. A band of musicians had started playing in the gallery above them. She was unfamiliar with the tune and asked Baron Skellar about it.

‘It is an old Kibil song, the “Lay of Gudrun and Ahnvehr” and the story of their doomed love for each other. I can tell you the full tale later if you want, though. I am sure
you can guess it didn’t end well for them.’

‘How very sad,’ she said. ‘Is there any nation that does not have songs telling tales of doom and misery?’

‘There are happy songs, too,’ said Skellar. ‘I think you will find that for a nation to consider itself a mature one its cultural breadth must be broad indeed; both happiness
and despair must be chronicled in song and verse, for there are always times when a man seeks recourse in one to the exclusion of the other.’

‘And a woman,’ said Vorfgan, flashing Ceriana a dazzling smile with a full mouth of pearly white teeth. She acknowledged him, their eyes meeting for a brief but lingering moment.

‘Is it true,’ she said, ‘that every man in my present company is single?’

Skellar laughed. ‘I believe so! My advisors want to pair me off with a fat widow from the mainland. So far I have resisted their machinations. How about you, Vorfgan?’

‘When it happens, it will have to suit me politically ,’ he said. ‘If only Syvuhka would allow us multiple wives.’

‘Some of the nobility in Koze in the south do just that, I believe,’ said Richney with a smile. ‘I, too, am waiting for the most advantageous moment to wed. The Grand Duke has
someone in mind for me, I believe, but now is not the right time.’

Ceriana wondered whom exactly he meant, but after admonishing herself for her paranoia she decided to change the subject.

‘We are inspecting the ships tomorrow, Baron Skellar? What does such a task entail?’

‘It is merely ceremonial,’ he said. ‘The captain has had his men scrubbing desks and painting wood all day. He will lead us around; all we have to do is observe.’

‘Will you be asking him to patrol the coast, to see where these pirates are based?’

‘That I will, my Lady.’

‘I thought our troubles with pirates were at an end?’ said Richney, his eyebrows raised.

‘It is never the case with pirates,’ sighed Skellar. ‘They are always here, maybe in fewer numbers, but they are never completely eradicated. What exactly are the three of you
planning to do after tomorrow?’

‘Alas, I have to return to Tanaren,’ said Richney. ‘There is a fast caravel waiting in the harbour.’

‘And I have to continue my tour,’ said Vorfgan. ‘Baron Rosk is waiting for me.’

‘I thought you were here for at least another three days?’

‘Alas, there has been confusion with my schedule. I was going to tell you earlier but the opportunity did not present itself.’

‘Then, may Hytha speed both your journeys,’ said Skellar. ‘Lady Ceriana, what do you wish to do?’

‘I was hoping to see more of your island?’ she said hopefully.

‘Of course,’ he said with a laugh. ‘But I doubt it will take that long. Apart from Thakholm itself, there are a few other fishing villages and Gvernur in the high hills where
they quarry the slate.’

‘Any beaches?’

‘Some small ones, but you would need to be on horseback to get to them, not in a carriage.’

‘Excellent,’ she said. ‘We will do a riding tour, and you can show me your beautiful island. Can we do it in a day?’

‘Most definitely, my Lady. The matter is settled.’

She slept well that night; she put it down to the great draughts of sea air she had been breathing over the last few days. The next morning she was up bright and early (for
her), dressed herself in a plain white dress with pale-blue kirtle and decided to walk the grounds of the manor. Stepping through the front door she noticed how the wind had dropped; it looked like
it would be a milder day all round. The next thing she noticed was what appeared to be two men fighting in the main courtyard ahead of her; she heard the clash of wood and a shout of triumph and
decided to investigate.

Barons Skellar and Vorfgan were duelling each other with quarterstaffs. They were both stripped to the waist and sweating profusely. Both men’s torsos bore ugly red weals where their
opponent had already found a mark. She noticed how lean they both were, with not an ounce of fat between them, how the muscles corded in their forearms and shoulders, how tight their pectorals were
as they circled each other looking for the next strike. A small circle of servants and guards were watching them, a circle she quietly joined.

Suddenly Baron Skellar noticed her. Raising his arm to his opponent, he lowered his staff and walked over to her, Vorfgan following.

‘I was not expecting such auspicious company for our little morning exercise,’ he said. ‘Tell me, my Lady, which of the two of us impresses you more?’

‘I joined the crowd barely a minute ago,’ she replied. ‘Certainly there has not been enough time to see who has the advantage. I was actually going to do a circuit of the manor
house, so I shall proceed with that and wish you both the very best with your endeavours.’

‘You would disappoint us terribly if you did not stay but a little while longer,’ said Vorfgan with a smile. ‘Come, Jon, let us start our duel from scratch and let the Lady
Ceriana judge the winner.’

‘I am sorry, gentlemen, but I have no knowledge of this type of combat. I have been to tourneys before and seen men duel with lance, sword and mace, but I really do not feel able to judge
the winner between the two of you.’

Vorfgan, however, was not giving up easily. ‘Worry not, this is not a serious competition; we will treat it all in the light-hearted manner in which it is intended, so it barely matters as
to whom you call in favour of.’

‘Very well,’ she said warily. ‘Just as long as you see it as a trifling thing then I will play along.’

‘Excellent,’ said Vorfgan emphatically. ‘What say you, Jon, a duel of no import with ten crowns from the loser to the winner.’

She was about to raise an objection but the two men were already crouched, circling each other. Vorfgan licked his lips, a hungry smile on his face, and lowered his guard. Skellar aimed a blow
at his head which he dodged easily. Vorfgan assayed a counterstroke, which Skellar parried. The game of punch and counter punch continued for some time. Ceriana grew bored; she had no idea who was
the better of the two and had even tired of admiring the impressive physiques of both men. She didn’t even know if it was appropriate for a married woman to be watching such a display. She
was about to try and stop both of them and declare a draw when Skellar caught Vorfgan’s leg with a lightning blow, tripping him and sending him flying. The ever-growing crowd cheered and
booed in equal measure; evidently most of Vorfgan’s entourage were here.

He got up, spitting out dust. ‘Good blow!’ he said to the other.

The fight continued. She noticed, though, Vorfgan’s mask of absolute concentration and sensed his determination not to be caught again. Skellar attempted a similar trick but this time his
opponent leapt over the blow, landing firmly back on his feet. He was smiling. ‘You are quite the master, Jon,’ he said. ‘but you haven’t stopped me yet.’ Skellar made
another attempt at him, missing by quite a margin, but in doing so he left his guard open. Quick as lightning, Vorfgan countered, the edge of his staff catching Skellar square on the temple. There
was a loud ‘thwack’ and the hapless man was flat on his back, his staff rolling free, to land at Vorfgan’s feet. He groaned as his servants rushed to attend him.

Vorfgan walked up to him. ‘Are you all right, Jon?’

He received a feeble croak as a reply.

‘Good, I will see you later for my ten crowns.’ With that he handed his staff to a retainer and strolled confidently back to the manor, followed a minute later by four servants
bearing the limp form of the house’s owner.

When Baron Skellar was struck Ceriana let out an involuntary squeak and put her hand to her mouth. Although she was relieved she would not have to decide between the two men, it was such a
fierce blow she was genuinely concerned for his welfare. Once he had been back in his room for ten minutes or so, she decided to pay him a visit. He was sitting in a high-backed chair with two
female servants either side of him; one was applying a damp cloth to a nasty swollen red welt on his forehead. He looked groggy.

‘Are you all right, Jon? That was quite the blow you received.’

He stared at her, his eyes glassy. ‘It will heal; the blow to my pride, however, is probably terminal. And the one to my purse, for that matter. Still, it will teach me to go to ridiculous
lengths to impress a lady.’

‘And which lady was that, may I ask?’

‘You of course; alas, I now look quite the fool whereas the Baron of Clutha has all the glory.’

‘I am a married woman, you know,’ she said, smiling. ‘Men are so prideful and foolish to think a lady would be so impressed by the winner of a stick fight. As much as it is
worth, I regard you as a friend and a good man. Now relax and let these ladies look after you. We can inspect the ships without you easily enough.’

‘Artorus’s teeth, you will do no such thing. I will be there even if I have one foot in Keth’s furnace.’

‘Very well, I will leave you now to recover.’

‘As you wish, my Lady. And thank you, I will take your friendship any day of the week.’

She left him to his misery but made little progress down the hall before bumping into the victor of the duel.

‘My Lady, how is the invalid? I was just paying him a call myself, and not just to collect my winnings, I assure you.’

‘His pride is as bruised as his head. But he will be well enough to join us at the harbour.’

‘Good.’ Vorfgan’s smile was dazzling. ‘My blow was a lot firmer than I meant it to be. I hope you do not think me a vicious brute.’

‘Ha!’ she laughed. ‘Two men duel each other and both come out of it feeling sorry for themselves. Fear not, you both went into it with eyes wide open and I think none the worse
of either of you. My opinions of you both remain unchanged.’

He looked at her intently, eyes holding her transfixed.

‘As I am completely unaware of your opinion of me prior to our little engagement, I am unsure as to whether you have just paid me a compliment or not.’

She felt unable to look away from him. Something burned in his eyes, something she just couldn’t fathom.

‘Believe me, sir,’ she said quietly, ‘it was definitely a compliment.’

He bowed slightly, walking past her and into Skellar’s room. She went to her own, aware of a strange tingling in her cheeks and hands.

As official inspections went, this one was pretty seamless. Ceriana and the Barons (Baron Skellar sporting a bandage round his head) were led by the captain first around the
Pride of Hytha
and then on to the
Indomitable
. She had never been on such large warships before and found herself rather enjoying the experience. They were led below decks to look at
the captain’s and surgeon’s quarters, passing through the hammock-filled deck where the crew and marines slept. She was then led to the aft castle where one of the ship’s
catapults was based and shown its workings, together with the hollow clay pots that were filled with incendiary substances before being fired at the enemy. Then she was shown one of the
ship’s many ballistae, used to thin enemy numbers before boarding. It was explained to her that these ships could work with oar-powered galleys that could be equipped with rams. They could
hole an enemy ship while the galleon kept the decks busy fending off missiles and putting out fires. If boarding was required, the galleon could work with the smaller, high-castled carracks to
bring numbers to bear and overwhelm the enemy.