The Red Knight (16 page)

She never grew tired of looking at the Spur, even the tiny rowels were decorated with intricate vines and flowers. After her sword, it was the most precious thing she owned. The words of command began to form in her mind. She felt the metal start to flow beneath her fingers. It was as though she was holding a living creature, one that wanted to change; to leap to life in her hands, but now wasn’t the time to play. Reluctantly, she put the words from her mind. The Spur was still, nothing but cold, dead metal.

Nevenna was waiting with her. She was looking out of the window, watching her fellow knights practicing manoeuvres.

“When do you think we’ll go?” she asked Alyda, her gaze tracking the wheeling horses.

“No idea. Trease just sent orders to get the recruits trained up quickly and to,
maintain standards
. That’s his way of saying, be ready for battle.

“Will it affect the tournament?

Alyda flicked the rowels of the Spur. “I shouldn’t think so. I don’t think we’ll be going far if we get the order to move out. No need to prepare for a long sea voyage, if you see what I mean.

Nev grinned. “Aye, Captain. I’m pleased about the tourney. I fancy Del’s going to do well in the melee this year.”

“You’re biased, but speaking of the tourney; how angry was our newest recruit when you told him?” Alyda asked.

“Teeth-spitting furious.” The Herald grinned. “I was particularly impressed by the stream of invective he came out with; very imaginative.”

“Well, he has been studying under the master. I hear he and Kieran have become firm friends.”

“Aye, unfortunately Kieran isn’t developing the manners of a prince—more that the Prince is becoming as rough as a cavalryman. What do you think his Highness will do?”

A little later than expected, Alyda heard the sound of heavy footsteps echoing in the hallway. “I think we’re about to find out.” Alyda swung her feet off the desk and pretended to read some papers just before Prince Talin burst in. She glanced up. He’d obviously come straight from the practice yard and as Nevenna said, looked completely furious.

“Captain Stenna!” the Prince demanded, “I have an issue that I must raise with you immediately.”

“Are you a knight in training or a Prince currently?” Alyda asked.

He frowned, halted in his tracks clearly confused by her comment. “What?”

“Well, Highness, a knight wouldn’t burst into their Captain’s quarters in such a dishevelled state unless they had been ordered. Neither would they rudely demand the attention of their commanding officer.” The Prince looked utterly bewildered. If she wasn’t so mindful of her duty she would have laughed her arse off. “If you’re a prince, then of course, you can do as you please. You can barge in, shout—dance on my desk if you so desire. Only, if it please you, decide which you are before we continue as it’s very confusing for a simple soldier to fathom.”

“How dare you!” Talin spluttered.

“Ah, you are the Prince then.” Alyda stood up and saluted. “Forgive my lack of manners, Highness; I mistook you for a knight.”

The Prince stabbed an accusing finger at Alyda. “You…I…urgh.” Cursing incoherently, he stormed from the office.

Nevenna laughed. “That showed him, or you’re getting posted to the borders.”

Alyda grinned. “You mean
we’re
getting posted to the borders Lieutenant—I couldn’t possibly leave the Company behind.”

Nevenna stopped laughing.

When Nevenna had gone, Alyda set about her paperwork in earnest. The Prince would either come back or leave Trelanlith in a sulk. Either way, she might as well get on with some work while she waited to find out which it would be. She told herself she wouldn’t mind if he left—she hadn’t wanted him there in the first place. The trouble was she couldn’t entirely convince herself that was true.

There was a knock at the door. Prince Talin entered. He’d bathed, his hair was neatly braided in a single plait, and he’d put on a pristine scarlet surcoat. He saluted and waited for her to address him.

“Yes, Highness?” she said at last.

“Captain Stenna; I would like to apologise for my conduct.”

“Apology accepted. Was there anything else?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact there is. Lieutenant Vysten informed me that I cannot take part in the tourney next week. I’d like to know why.”

“Because I ordered it.”

“Yes, I got that part. I’d like to know
why
you ordered it.”

“Under normal circumstances, I’d say it was none of your business, but then not every knight is the heir to the throne. You’ve been forbidden because it’s too dangerous. Lieutenant Lorhine says you have skill with lance and sword, but the practice yards are very different to an open tourney. Nobody here wants to kill or maim you. The same cannot be said for some of the knights who’ll be attending. Don’t mistake me; most are honourable warriors, but they’re coming here to win fame and glory. Unseating a Prince would be a bragging right, and we cannot risk the life of the future King. I’m sure you understand.” From the sour expression on his face it was evident that he didn’t.

“This is ridiculous, I’ve fought before—completely naked on one occasion. I assure you; there is no adversary more furious than a cuckolded lover.” He grinned. “I’m sure I can look after myself fully armed and armoured. Please, Captain. I don’t want to write to my father and ask his permission, but I will. This is the only time in my life that I’ve ever wanted to participate in a bloody tourney; you have no right, or reason to deny me.”

Alyda took the letter bearing the King’s seal from the drawer and slid it across the table. His face darkened as he read it. She hadn’t wanted to pass responsibility to the King; her shoulders were broad, but it was clear that he wasn’t going to accept her word and leave it there. She understood entirely, and would have been just as determined in his position.

“It seems I owe you another apology, Captain Stenna. I thought the order was yours. I should have known my parents wouldn’t let me slip the leash entirely.” The Prince tossed the letter onto the table.

“Tell me, Captain, why was I only informed this morning? The date of the letter is over three weeks ago.”

“Telling you now means you’re only going to be miserable for one week, instead of four.”

He smiled. “You care if I’m miserable?”

Damn
. He’d seen something she didn’t even want to admit to herself.

“I care about the morale of all my knights,” she said, quickly brushing the comment aside. She looked down at the papers to hide the flush she felt rising in her cheeks. The door burst open. It was Jamie, he’d been running.

“Captain,” he spluttered. “Lieutenant Lorhine and Lieutenant Tiran are fighting.”

The Great Hall was in uproar, tables and benches had been overturned and a knot of knights and squires were gathered in the centre of the room, enthusiastically shouting encouragement and curses. When they saw Alyda and the Prince, the noise died down and the crowd flowed apart to reveal Lorhine and Tiran. Lorhine had Tiran in a headlock and was punching him in the face. As he drew back his fist to hit him again, he glanced up, and froze.

“Let him go,” said Alyda, her voice barely louder than a whisper. Lorhine immediately released Tiran. The knight dropped to his knees, gasping for breath.

“Both of you; my office, one hour. If you so much as look at each other before then, I’ll kick you out of the Arth myself.” Without waiting for either to reply she stalked from the hall, icy silence trailing in her wake.

“Would you rather be hung or dishonourably discharged?” Polyn asked Jamie.

He glared at the page. Normally he’d throw something at her, and follow it up with a lecture about not asking stupid questions, but he wasn’t going to berate her in front of Hedden and his cronies.

“Hanged, without a doubt,” he muttered and continued to change out of his muck and into something more presentable for the hearing.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” the page mused. “I saw someone being hung once. It took forever. He went purple and pissed himself…it was horrible. I think I’d take the discharge.”

Jamie snorted. “You might as well be dead with a dishonourable discharge.”

Pol folded her arms defiantly. “I still don’t want to hang.”

“Do you want to shut up? Your constant prattle is giving me a headache,” said Hedden. His friends sniggered.

Jamie knew he should ignore him, but Hedden was like a splinter under his fingernail; inconsequential, but really annoying. “Only the Commander or the King can dishonourably discharge a knight, and only the King or a juried court can order a hanging. This isn’t anywhere near that serious.” Jamie tugged on his best boots and stamped his feet until they were snugly wedged into the stiff leather.

“I should be allowed to go with you. I’m your junior, and the Captain’s page.” Polyn flopped back on her bunk. Her freckled face screwed up.

Before Jamie could answer, Rudi Lauwen looked up from the sock he was darning.

He jabbing the needle in Pol’s direction. “I’m Lieutenant Vysten’s squire. If anyone else should be allowed in, it’s me.”

“Or me,” Hedden chipped in.

“Why in the Void would you be allowed in, Hedden? Lacgarde won’t be there.” Jamie realised he shouldn’t have taken the bait a second after he had.

“Because I’m wonderful,
Turd
lowe. Why else?” Hedden basked in his friends’ laughter.

Jamie was seething, but forced a tight smile. “Y’know, Hedden we really are lucky to have you in the First. Did your village have to wait long after you left?”

Hedden narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Wait for what?”

“Another idiot.” Jamie threw his muddy clothes at Polyn and left before Hedden talked himself into a beating.

Talin crept into the Captain’s office and commandeered a seat by the door where he would be out of the way. The last thing he wanted after this morning was to draw attention to himself. The room was hot and crowded with knights waiting for the hearing to begin. Talin knew it was terribly selfish, but he was privately grateful to the brawling officers. The fight had completely overshadowed his embarrassing little outburst.

Alyda was sitting at her desk, huddled in quiet conversation with Lieutenant Vysten. Her unsheathed sword lay before her, a cold, gleaming symbol of the military court’s authority. When her squire came in, Talin pulled him down onto the bench beside him.

“Just the man I wanted to see.”

“Me, Highness? I’m honoured.”

“Aye, I thought if anyone knows what’s going on it will be you, Master Turlowe.”

“You flatter me, Highness.”

The squire neither looked nor sounded in the slightest bit flattered, but he’d damn well stay and answer Talin’s questions whether he liked it or not.

“Captain Stenna looks to be in a grim mood. Is a scrap all that serious?”

“Serious enough; particularly as it’s between officers. The Captain says discipline is our foundation.”

“That sounds like Trease. She reminds me of him—especially when she does that thing where she shouts without raising her voice.”

Jamie gave Talin a disdainful look. “She’s a Captain of the Royal Guards; she commands respect.”

Like his older brothers, young Turlowe had inherited the irritating ability to sound smugly superior to everyone they spoke to, including a future king. It reminded Talin of his youth spent with the other noble children of the court. He and Bear would mercilessly tease the older, and equally as annoying, Turlowe brothers when they forgot their places. It was so easy to get a rise out of them; every single member of the family had a temper as hot as Naran pepper.

“Although,
unlike
Trease, she’s lovely, even when she’s angry. Don’t you agree, Jamie?” Talin may have been teasing, but he meant it and was glad of the chance to voice his feelings, even though they were disguised as a jest.

“I really wouldn’t know, Highness,” Jamie mumbled.

There it was: the old, Turlowe Flush. The lad went from pasty to beetroot in seconds. Ah, but teasing a Turlowe was like fishing in a barrel, and not half as much fun without Bear there to share the joke. Captain Stenna and Lieutenant Vysten finished their conversation and the hearing was brought to order.

“So who do you think came off worst?” Talin asked Jamie.

Jamie shrugged. “Hard to say, Highness.”

It was obvious to a blind man that Lorhine had beaten the damnation out of Tiran. The Tamalak knight hadn’t escaped entirely unscathed; he had a few cuts and bruises, but Tiran was a mess. Talin wondered if his nose had been straight before the fight, because it certainly wasn’t now. The disgraced knights saluted the Captain. She returned it, but the look on her face was as cold as the Ice Halls of Tamalan.

She tipped a nod to the Paymaster. He dipped his quill and prepared to write.

“Lieutenant Tiran, why were you and Lieutenant Lorhine brawling?” she asked.

Tiran cast a withering sideways glance at Lorhine. “Captain, Lieutenant Lorhine has insulted me many times before today. This assault was the culmination of months of persecution.”