The Bloody Quarrel (The Complete Edition) (15 page)

“Do you think the King suspects his eldest son has been speaking to us?”

Abbas spread his hands wide. “Who knows what goes in the mind of that mad king, highness? But there is a new name on the streets: a captain of the Prince’s guards. His praises are being sung by both the commoners and high-born and even in their churches they speak his name.”

“And who is this new hero of theirs?”

“His name is Fallon, highness,” Abbas said. “We have never heard of him before but then he is said to have come out of nowhere to defeat the darkness that has plagued Berry’s streets.”

“There is no darkness on the streets,” Kemal said irritably. “We both know what is behind that.”

“Apologies, highness. I was merely reporting what the people are saying. They worship this Fallon—”

“What?” Kemal sat up straighter in his chair, the repetition of the name cutting through the many thoughts crowding out his head. “Who is he?”

“Fallon? We do not know, highness. He seems to have appeared out of the backwoods of Gaelland to rise quickly. It is said he saved Prince Cavan’s life.”

Kemal leaned back, not even looking at Abbas. Could it be the same man? A touch of disquiet struck him. The Gaelish woman Bridgit had spoken of her husband many times and he had even laughingly suggested he would seek out the man Fallon on his return to Gaelland. But could it be the same Fallon? Perhaps it was just a coincidence. But better to be safe than sorry. “I want to know everything about this Fallon. Especially his hometown. Get it to me as fast as you can,” he ordered.

Abbas bowed floridly. “Your will, highness. I shall have it for you within the day.”

Kemal watched him go. As soon as the door was shut, Feray stepped out from behind a curtain, where she had been sitting silently. For all his skills, Abbas would have been uncomfortable at delivering his messages in front of her, while Kemal wanted the benefit of her good sense.

“What do you make of that?” he asked.

“I don’t think you should go to meet the King,” she said immediately. “Not until you know what is really going on. It feels too much like a trap. Why have Prince Cavan’s agents stopped talking to ours? And this Fallon is another concern. All of a sudden this hero comes out of nowhere. Why now? You should send a message to the King, saying you are tired from your long sea voyage and cannot meet him for a few days.”

“And if we are unable to discover anything by then? Will I keep on making excuses? No, this is not a negotiation. We are here to give him terms. I cannot show even the slightest weakness: King Aidan must realize he is but a King in name only and I am the real ruler here,” Kemal said firmly.

“One day is nothing. At least try to make contact with Prince Cavan’s agents,” she urged.

He sighed. “Your words make good sense but I must ignore them for now. I must show Aidan his days on the throne are numbered.”

“You should be careful, my love. Desperate men can do foolish things,” she said.

Kemal smiled. “I will take more than enough guards. We planned to keep several hundred here to keep an eye on Aidan over the winter as it is. He will get a taste of our power and that will knock any thoughts of foolishness out of his head.”

*

King Aidan gathered all those who would be attending the meeting with the Kottermani Prince together before they entered the throne room.

“The rules of this meeting are simple. Nobody is to say anything. I will be the only one who talks. Anyone who breaks this rule will wish they had never been born,” the King declared, staring around the room carefully.

Fallon felt the burning intensity of the King’s gaze, then, when it swept past him, glanced around the room. Everyone was dressed in their finest clothes, though nothing Kottermani. It was Gaelish outfits only. These were not nearly as rich and colorful but, as the King was making abundantly clear, it was them against the Kottermani.

He had received a detailed list of instructions from the chamberlain Regan and had no doubt everyone else had been given something similar. Even Swane had lost his customary mocking look, replacing it with a blank face. He locked eyes with Fallon for a long moment, before looking away slowly, as though he were not worth the effort. Fallon restrained a surge of anger only because he knew he would not have to hear the bastard’s voice.

With Fallon were his friends, as well as six of the biggest villagers. All of them were dressed in mail shirts, with Prince Cavan’s surcoat over the top. The mail was heavy, especially on the shoulders, and they had to wear tight leather belts to try and bring some of that weight off their shoulders and onto the backs. He also had Caley by his side, the dog unwilling to leave him.

With so much weaponry in their hands, Fallon was tempted to strike at both Aidan and Swane. But Kelty had three score of his men on the balcony above, all armed with crossbows, with another score of them lining the walls. Even the nobles wore swords, although many of them looked ridiculous as they tried to walk without being tripped up by unfamiliar scabbards.

He stood behind Swane, imagining ramming his shillelagh into the bastard’s face.

All seemed ready – until Regan raced into the throne room and up to the King’s side.

“Sire, Prince Kemal is on the way, but there is a problem,” he said softly, his voice nevertheless carrying easily to Fallon in the silent throne room. “The Prince is bringing an army with him. The people are cheering the display but the Kottermanis are equipped for war.”

“How many?” Aidan demanded.

“At least three companies, sire,” Regan replied.

“Then let us go see this. All of us,” Aidan commanded.

There was something of a crush at the doors, as nobles tried to be close to the King and Kelty tried to surround him with guards. Swane took his place at his father’s shoulder and Brendan’s bulk kept some space around them, at least.

Swiftly they all filled the battlements above the castle gate, where they could hear the approaching Kottermanis. The sound of drums and trumpets was echoed by the thump of marching feet and overlaid by cheers of the people, who were obviously enjoying the sight.

“Why has he brought so many, do you think?” Duchess Dina whispered, moving in close to Fallon’s left shoulder.

Fallon was very aware of Swane just a pace away.

“He wants to make a point. I am not sure what it is though, Duchess,” he said carefully.

There was no time for anything more, for the Kottermani vanguard stamped into the square facing the castle. The front rank all carried bright silken banners, while many down the sides of the column also waved colorful flags. The soldiers were in perfect formation, each rank taking a step at exactly the right moment, thumping their boots into the cobbles in perfect time.

Fallon watched them carefully, trying to see how they would fight. Their armor was far different from the gray mail he was used to seeing. Instead it seemed to be a series of overlapping leather patches, each one studded with small metal squares to make a coat that looked something like a fish’s scales. The leather was brightly colored too, a mixture of red, black and blue, so each company looked the same, yet different. They carried no shields but they all had long, curved swords at their sides. Their helms were different as well, conical and rising to a point, with a metal tail of chain mail that covered their necks. None of them carried crossbows but one of the companies, the ones in black, had a quiver at their hip and over their shoulder something like a hunter’s bow, the long, straight piece of wood that only a handful of Gaelish knew how to use, except the tips of these ones curved strangely. The men with their strange armor and swords held little fear for him. He was confident his crossbows would wreak havoc among them. But the strange bows were another matter. A hunter’s bow could release six arrows in the time it took to reload a crossbow.

He thought about that as the procession formed up into three squares, with much banging of drums and sounding of horns. With all the flags, the colors and the noise, it looked like a festival, and the people of Berry were treating it as such, waving and dancing and cheering.

Finally, with a last flourish from the drums, the flags were dropped, the soldiers stamped to attention and the Kottermani Prince, decked out in the same armor except that the leather showing beneath his mail was gold, stepped to the front of his men.

“Prince Kemal, welcome to Berry. And please thank your men for such a wonderful display!” Aidan shouted down. “But I am afraid we do not have a room large enough to hold all of them! Perhaps you would care to enter with merely an honor guard?”

Prince Kemal signaled and half the men in red marched forwards to form a new square.

“Would you like to send the rest back to your ships? I am afraid I am unable to offer food and drink to so many,” Aidan called down.

“That is not necessary. They will wait for me for as long as it takes,” Kemal called back, his voice deep and his Gaelish only slightly accented.

Aidan waved. “Bastard,” he said softly through his smile. “Regan, escort him in.”

Fallon took one last look at the Kottermani soldiers. They all looked strong and disciplined and the thought of taking them on in a straight fight made him uneasy.

*

The throne room was crowded with men.

On one side was the Gaelish nobility, as well as Fallon and his friends, while the other side was taken up by the immaculate ranks of the Kottermani soldiers. Up close, they looked even more impressive. Fallon would have liked to inspect their armor closer still – while it could not hold out a crossbow bolt, he wondered how effective it would be against a sword. But he could see there was going to be no chance to find out. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife.

It was not helped that the balcony above was filled with Kelty’s guards, but the real reason was King Aidan’s obvious anger. Usually that meant something bad was about to happen and, with only a handful of guards actually on the throne room floor, the nobles clearly did not like their chances of getting out of there if Aidan did explode.

But if Prince Kemal and his Kottermani soldiers felt the same tension, they showed no sign of it. They did not even seem concerned by the number of crossbows above them. They might as well have been in their own capital.

“We welcome Prince Kemal and trust he had a good voyage,” Regan announced.

To Fallon’s eyes, it looked as though Aidan would have been happier if they had all drowned on the way over.

“We return the warm welcome of King Aidan,” Prince Kemal said, his voice even but still reaching into every corner of the silent throne room. “It is a pleasure to see so many noble faces here to greet me.”

Aidan looked, if possible, even sourer at those words.

“Thank you again, Prince Kemal. King Aidan now invites you to join him for a private discussion, with just our personal attendants,” Regan said, bowing low.

Prince Kemal inclined his head in acknowledgement. “I would be pleased to do so, as long as Crown Prince Cavan is there.”

The throne room went very still and Aidan’s face glowed red. “This is a discussion just concerning you and me,” he said through gritted teeth.

If Kemal was affected by Aidan’s obvious anger, he did not reveal it. “It was not a request. It was a requirement. We do not talk unless the Crown Prince is there.”

For a moment Fallon thought Aidan was going to explode with anger and he nodded to his friends, thinking this could be the time to make sure Aidan and Swane did not survive the vicious battle that surely had to erupt between the Kottermanis and Gaelish.

Then the King bottled up his anger with a visible effort. “So be it,” he said. “Cavan, bring two men only.”

Swane did not look around but Fallon knew it had to be himself and Brendan, or people would know something was wrong. As Swane strode after his father, Fallon nudged the big smith and they followed.

Fallon was actually delighted he would be there to hear what was happening. And he was not the only one. A hand plucked at his sleeve and Duchess Dina looked meaningfully at him, then towards the massed nobles, each of whom was looking like a small child being deprived of its favorite toy.

He nodded to show he understood she wanted him to be her eyes and ears in there, then hurried to catch up with the others.

In contrast with the packed throne room, the audience room was much quieter. A table and chairs had already been set up, with jugs of water and wine and glasses ready. But there were fewer people than chairs. Apart from the King, Swane and Kemal, there was a plump Kottermani with a huge moustache, Kelty and a hulking guard and a pair of Kottermani bodyguards.

Fallon was fascinated by them. Each was as big as Brendan and they both carried huge swords strapped to their backs. Aidan and Swane sat down on one side of the table, Kemal on the other. Regan hovered behind the King and the plump Kottermani waited behind his prince. As to Fallon, Brendan, Kelty and the other guards, they lined the wall on their respective sides of the table.

“What was the meaning of speaking to me like that in my own throne room?” Aidan growled before Regan had even had the chance to offer anyone a glass of wine.

Kemal looked almost bored in the face of Aidan’s obvious anger. “I said it because I can. You no longer have the power here,” he said coldly.

Aidan’s meaty fist thumped onto the table. “Is that any way to start a discussion between our two countries?” he snarled.

“No,” Kemal agreed. “But then this is not a discussion.”

Before Aidan could say anything else, Kemal held out his hand and the plump Kottermani chamberlain placed a thick scroll into it. Kemal then rolled it across the table, where it came to rest against Aidan’s fist.

“We have lived up to our part of the bargain that was struck the last time we were here,” Kemal said. “Now it is time for you to live up to yours. Inside are the conditions you must comply with.”

Aidan ripped open the scroll and began to read, his face losing its ruddy color almost immediately. Fallon craned his neck and leaned to his left in a vain attempt to see what was on the scroll. Whatever it was, it was having a powerful effect on the King. He would have loved to know where Aidan planned to place that on his shelves – and what the Kottermanis’ part of the bargain had been. He silently urged Aidan to rage and demand answers, so more could be revealed.