The Sword of the Spirits (3 page)

Greene said in a loud voice: “Let all witness the proper end of a traitor!”

He looked at me. I raised my hand and dropped
it. Strong arms pulled on the rope that hung from the pulley of the gibbet, and Michael Smith gave a single gasp as his body was lifted up. His legs twitched as he hung there. They twitched for a long time before they were still.

I
WENT TO VISIT EDMUND'S
mother the day after we returned from Petersfield. I went unaccompanied and would not let the man-servant announce me. He was normal in shape except for a withered arm and had been in her service for more than twenty years. When her husband was killed and my father took the palace he could have stayed there, a high position for a polymuf, but had chosen to go with her to the little house in Salt Street into which she had to move. She was a woman who commanded affection.

Charles, her elder son, had restored her fortunes
to some extent, with bounty won in campaigns under my father and my brother. She lived in West Street now, in a bigger house though one still modest for someone who had been the Prince's Lady. But she had never troubled herself over wealth or display. I found her in the kitchen, baking bread. She held, as few now did, to the old rule that this was something a housewife did not leave to polymufs. And she had trained her daughter, Jenny, to follow the same tradition. Jenny stood beside her at the well-scoured table, her arms like her mother's covered with flour.

Jenny started and looked confused at my appearance. She blushed, and it became her. She had been a plain, thin-faced girl when I had first known her and—an awkward newcomer to the court life which she had lost—had felt the edge of her tongue. She was quite pretty now, especially with her cheeks flushed from the heat of the oven and her present embarrassment.

I said: “You have flour on your nose, Jenny.”

It was not true but made her lift her hand automatically to her face. Her nose was floury then. I laughed. She said indignantly, “Oh, you . . . !” then fled the kitchen.

Her mother smiled at me. “Hello, Luke. You come without ceremony and will get none, even though you return as a conqueror.”

I took a chair and straddled it. “I am glad to be back.”

This was very true. I felt at home in her house as I did not in the palace. It was a deep thing with me. I had no happy memories of my own home as a child. My mother was beautiful and I loved her, but though she was fond of small animals she did not have the gift of making a child, even her own, feel at ease; and the house itself was badly run. She did not keep her servants long and while they were with her they were slack and sullen.

Edmund's mother said: “Thank you for the roses, Luke.”

I had ordered them to be sent down early that morning, the best blooms from the rose garden at the palace. In the old days it had been a great joy to her, and was perhaps the only material thing she missed out of all she had had there. I said:

“Everything in the garden is yours, as I have told you. You are welcome at any time, to pick the blooms or tell old Garnet how to go about his planting and grafting and seeding.”

Garnet was the palace gardener, and had held that post through many reigns. He was a polymuf giant, more than six and a half feet tall, and like most such had a weakness of the back. He could no longer stoop but had a boy—a dwarf except that he also had a cast in one eye—who did the stooping for him.

Edmund's mother smiled. “The idea of telling Garnet anything! But I am grateful for the roses. They have done well this year.”

We talked about things of the city: pleasant gossip and without malice. She had no malice in her. She brought me a pot of cider, drawn cold from the barrel, and hot spiced biscuits from the oven. I said after a time:

“Jenny is a long time getting the flour off her face.”

“You confused her, Luke.” She smiled at me. “She pays attention to the things you say.”

I shook my head. “I can scarcely believe that. I have never been a match for her words, nor the cool hard mind that frames them.”

“She is not as cool and hard as she seems,” her mother said. “It is because they are so strong that
she hides her feelings. When she was a child she used to give way to her tempers. Then afterward she was bitterly ashamed of herself. I never punished her for her tantrums; she punished herself more than I could ever have done.”

We heard footsteps in the passage, and Jenny came back. She had washed the flour off her face and hands, and had tidied her hair and put a comb in it. I said:

“Well done! That is a great improvement.”

Her face was flushed but she was composed. She dropped me a mock curtsy.

“Thank you, sire. It is something to get a word of kind approval from the Prince of the Two Cities.”

I looked at her. Yes, she was quite pretty. I thought of another girl, in a city of gaily painted domes and pinnacles on the other side of the Burning Lands. Jenny was quite pretty but Blodwen was beautiful. And Blodwen, in due time, would be my wife and Lady of this city.

•  •  •

That night we celebrated the victory over Petersfield. The long table was set up in the Great Hall of the palace and I sat at its head. My Captains were
ranged on either side down to the first salt. Between the first salt and the second were leading merchants and other men of standing in the city. Below the second salt sat those dwarfs, such as Rudi the Armorer, who were entitled to feast at the Prince's table.

They drank my health, and I gave back the toast, drinking the strong sweet ale out of the Prince's golden pot that stood before me. I was not at ease that night. I drank sparingly, and made an excuse to leave as soon as was decent.

I went out onto the balcony overlooking the palace yard. There was the noise of the banquet behind me, and in front of me but farther off another din. It came from the barracks, where the soldiers were also celebrating. They would be noisier and more drunken than the Captains. I had no appetite for such a scene. I would have preferred to walk alone on the walls and watch the distant glow of the Burning Lands and think of the far northern city of Klan Gothlen. But a Prince had duties, as I already well knew, I resolved to go down to the barracks to greet my warriors.

Since it was a fine night they had brought tables
and benches out into the barrack square and were feasting there. The guard at the gate saluted me—soberly, I was glad to see. The noise from the square was much greater now. And I detected a different note in it, of anger rather than rejoicing.

They were so engrossed that they did not see me. They had deserted the tables and were gathered in a corner of the square. Something was going on there. I heard cries, and the clash of swords. I shouted:

“Hold, you fools!”

A few heard me and turned; then others followed suit. They parted their ranks to let me through. These were the spectators. Inside were half a dozen with swords drawn. And backed into the corner of the square a seventh, sword also drawn to defend himself. It was Hans.

I said: “Put up your swords, all of you.”

Some of the six obeyed at once, but two hesitated. Hans looked at me and slipped his sword into its sheath. One of the two said:

“Sire, he has wounded one of our comrades—perhaps killed him.”

I noticed then another figure who lay groaning on the ground. I knew him: Foster, one of Blaine's
men. I said to the man who had spoken:

“Sheath your sword, before I order you a flogging.”

He obeyed then, and so did the other. They were both of Blaine's troop. This one was called Sheppy. He was drunk but could talk clearly. He said:

“If we are not to kill him, sire, then he should be hanged. He has no right here, anyway—a dwarf! This is a place for warriors.”

The Watch Sergeant had come up by now. I pointed to Sheppy and the others. I said to the Sergeant:

“Arrest these men for brawling. Put them in the cells to cool off.”

The Sergeant said: “Yes, sire. And the dwarf?”

Hans looked at me but did not speak. If he were put in the cells with them he would not live till morning. According to custom he had no right here, as Sheppy had said. It was a place sacred to warriors, and they were entitled to kill anyone who was there unlawfully.

I said: “I will take him into custody myself.”

I asked Hans, once we were clear of the barracks, what had happened and he told me.

He had gone to take part in the feast, having fought and killed his man outside the walls of Petersfield. He had been received with mockery. It was good-humored at first and he had taken it cheerfully. But Foster, a cruel man when drunk, had carried things further. There was a special dance the dwarfs had at their weddings and celebrations. Foster demanded that he climb on the table and perform this. Hans refused. Foster drew his sword and said he would prick him on until he did. At that Hans drew his own sword. They fought and Hans spitted him. Then his comrades joined to take revenge. He had been trying to defend himself against the six of them when I arrived.

I had listened in silence and was silent still. Hans said:

“I am sorry, sire.” I said nothing. “I should not have gone there. But . . . they accepted me in the field, or some of them did. I guessed there might be hard words but I thought it best to learn to take them.”

We had reached the palace. I said: “This needs thought. I will see you in the morning. You are under arrest for brawling, as they are. Do I need to have you
locked up, or will you appear on my command?”

“I will always appear on your command, sire.”

“Then find yourself a bed in the palace for the night.”

•  •  •

I had called a general assembly for ten o'clock. I spoke to Edmund before that. He had heard something of what had happened and I told him the rest. He shook his head, and his face was serious.

“If I may suggest . . . ?”

I gripped his arm at the elbow. “I always listen to you. You know that.”

“It does no good to say I warned you there would be trouble. You want to save his life, which they could demand even if Foster does not die. A dwarf in the barracks . . .”

“I made him a warrior.”

“Not in their eyes. He rode beside you in the battle. He had a sword and used it. That does not make him a warrior. But I think it will be enough if you now take his sword away. Send him back to Dwarftown and I think it will content them.”

“I cannot unmake what I have made.”

“Luke,” he said, “it defies custom!”

“As the burning of the wheatfields did. As did my father's taking Petersfield and keeping it. There are customs that need to be broken.”

“But not this one. A Prince is nothing without his army.”

“A Prince rules his army. The army does not rule the Prince.”

“A show of strength is a good thing, but one can be too stubborn. Luke, send him back to Dwarftown.”

I smiled. “I listen to you, Edmund. But I take my own decisions.”

•  •  •

They paraded on the barrack square, each troop behind its Captain and its Sergeants. The men of Blaine's troop who had tried to kill Hans had been brought from the cells and stood there also, but apart. The weather had turned cold in the night. An east wind raised dust from the ground and even lifted the stiff leather jackets of the Captains. They were at attention and silent. I said:

“There was brawling at the feast last night. Swords were drawn. One of your comrades is wounded.”

I paused. In the distance a dog barked, the sound small but very clear.

“I accept some blame for this,” I said. “There was one present who was born a dwarf. You will have heard that he served me well in the expedition to the north. You have seen that he fought at my side before Petersfield. But it might be said that saving a Prince's life or fighting in one of his battles does not make a warrior.”

I let them wait again. I saw the faces of my Captains: approval in Edmund's, the twisted beginning of a smile in Blaine's. I said:

“Warriors must obey their Prince but he has a duty also: to make his will clear. This I shall now do.” I raised my voice: “Hans, son of Rudi!”

He came from the shadow of the gate where I had stationed him. He walked steadily forward. He was tall for a dwarf but he had a dwarfs rolling gait. There could be no mistaking what he was. He stood before me and saluted.

I said: “Do you wish to serve me and this city as a warrior?”

“Yes, sire.”

“Do you accept the duties and the dangers, and will you obey all the commands of your officers?”

“I will, sire.”

“Then be it known that by my command this man is a warrior. From this moment he is your comrade. Captain Greene!”

Greene took a step forward and saluted me.

“Sire!”

“Will you accept this man in your troop?”

His face showed nothing. He said:

“I accept him, sire.”

“As to the brawling . . . I accept some blame but punishment is required. We draw swords against the city's enemies, not each other. Apart from Foster, all who took part will be confined to barracks for a week. You may dismiss the men, Captain.”

I waited until they had broken up. The six of Blaine's troop and Hans were taken by the Sergeant of the guard for fatigue duties which were part of their punishment. I saw the anger in Sheppy's face as Hans joined them, and his lips moved: in a curse, I guessed. There would be plenty of cursing and jeering during the week to come. But Hans was one of them now, and they would do him no harm. Their own lives would be forfeit if they did.

It would be hard on Hans; but he had chosen to be a warrior and a warrior must learn to bear hardships.

Edmund came up to me at last. He said:

“Well, you did it.” There was unwilling admiration in his voice. “But I still think you were unwise.”