The King's Peace (69 page)

"I did not lie to Mother," I said, trying hard to keep calm in the face of his accusation and cursing Morthu in my heart. I kept walking, which helped a little. "Nor did he eat with us, nor ever with me, he eats apart; last night he ate in the kitchen. For the rest, the matter is dealt with, as I told Veniva. He killed Darien, and I put his arms on Darien's grave.

He gave them up to me. The matter was settled before the High King after Foreth."

"Settled? How can a matter like that be settled?" His voice rose angrily. "It is bloodfeud, and he must die before it can be settled."

"It is possible to accept a settlement," I said, guilt washing over me.

"Only for me to accept one," Morien said, visibly fighting to keep control of his temper.

"I am the head of the family, whatever you think. It was not your place to accept any settlement, whatever it was, and I can think of nothing that would have restored honor in that situation except his blood. Bloodfeuds are never settled at once, in the first generation."

"I am your heir," I said, as quietly as I could. I wished we were not out away from everyone, that Urdo was there or Veniva. Urdo was really good at explaining why bloodfeuds going on for generations were a terrible idea. "Until you have another. I could accept a settlement, and I did. Ulf Gun-narsson killed Darien in a raid, when he was seventeen. He gave me his arms in front of witnesses. It was a better thing for the King's Peace that he live than die; he is Sweyn's nephew, and now he serves Urdo."

"I do not care who he serves or for political reasons," Morien said. He was silent a long moment, stamping along the ground. "You do have that right in law, but why did you not tell me?"

"You're difficult to tell things to," I said, honestly. "I should have—I meant to, but when I came home there was the siege, and then you were yelling at me about making peace with Lew.

The matter was settled. At the time it didn't seem important that you knew the details."

"You are so arrogant," Morien said, through gritted teeth. Goldpate's stone was in sight now as we came over the crest of the slope which had seen the first charge of all time. "What would happen if you didn't know best, Sulien? Would the world break?"

I looked at him. "I didn't mean to upset you," I said. I put a hand out to the stone and leaned on it. "The matter was settled before the High King. If you are unhappy about it, you should talk to him."

"Oh yes, always your precious Urdo," Morien said. "I will. Because I intend to fight Ulf Gunnarsson. I am a king, too. I know what is right and honorable, not just what is expedient!"

I was furious then. I looked from his sneering face impugning my honor, to the rock they put over Goldpate the kinslayer. If I killed him I would be an outlaw too, and nothing would be achieved. "I think I know enough to defend my honor," I said.

"Your honor? Your honor? It is the family's honor!"

Of course, he didn't know about the rape which made it my honor even ahead of the family honor. I couldn't possibly tell him either, no matter how much he reproached me for not telling him things. "Take it up with Urdo," I repeated. "The matter is settled, his weapons lie on Darien's grave." I was going to have to talk to Urdo about it, but I was sure he could make Morien see sense in a way I couldn't because almost any conversation with Morien made me bristle.

I tried to ignore what Morien was saying, going on and on about my arrogance and the family honor. I stared out over the rolling hills to the south, letting it wash over me. I thought if he got it out of his system now he would calm down and start being reasonable.

But he just kept working himself up to higher and higher pitches of anger. "How can you bear have someone around you that killed your brother?" Morien was asking. "Even common decency—"

I realized then that I didn't hate Ulf anymore. All he was to me now was a steady and reliable armiger, more trustworthy than some. He had done well in the riot. He was an honorable man, whatever he had done to me years ago. I shook my head at Morien, whose world was so simple.

"I'll fight him even if you're afraid to," he said. My anger was rising again, and I tried to swallow it. Afraid? I who had led so many charges? How could he say that to me, when he had hardly fought a battle in his life? I struggled to say nothing. Morien would always try to push me as hard as he could so that I lost my temper and he could complain about me to Veniva. "But don't you even care about Darien?" he asked. "I always thought you two were so close, I can hardly believe you didn't care enough about him to avenge his murder."

He shouldn't have said it. I didn't think, I just hit him, and then when he was on the ground I got down and started to pound him. I probably wouldn't have killed him, he was my little brother. If I'd wanted to kill him, I'd have drawn my sword, and then he'd have been dead. I don't remember that fight at all well, I was angry. I had been angry with him for years. I don't know if he managed to hit me at all. He certainly didn't hurt me.

The next thing that is clear was somebody pulling me off him. I couldn't see who it was, but I recognized his voice. "Are you going to murder me if I let you go?" Conal Fishface asked. He had both his arms very tightly around me, pinning both of mine. I knew three ways to break the hold, but there was no point in letting him know that. Part of me knew I should be grateful to him for stopping me.

"Not just now," I said, and my voice shook. He let me go, and I turned around to face him. He was wearing a cloak fastened together with a beech twig with new leaves on it, but otherwise he looked exactly as I had last seen him. A scar from the fighting in
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Demedia would have been too much to hope for on that pretty face. "What in Coventina's name are you doing here, Fishface?"

"I am an accredited herald from the court of Oriel, which is to say Atha ap Gren, to Thansethan," he said.

"She must be awfully short of people to send," I said.

"Ah, I am glad to see you restored to your right mind and your usual pursuit of insulting me," he said, and had the nerve to bow. "She is indeed very short of people to send who know how to eat with a spoon and to blow their noses on their sleeve and not with their fingers. We lost a lot of champions in Demedia, as no doubt you know. But I feel I would be just as much within my rights to ask you what you are doing here?"

"I'm—" I took a deep breath. "Urdo's at Thansethan to pray for fertility. Or do you mean right here?" I looked down at Morien in some confusion. He hadn't stirred.

"I already knew Urdo was at Thansethan, I ran into the queen in the woods, which is why I am on this path and not the more frequented one. I wondered why you were engaged in a spot of quiet mayhem in this place." He looked down. "Ah, I recognize your esteemed brother.

Don't bother to answer the question, I can entirely understand."

"What if it had been a real enemy?" I asked. "Would you still have pulled me off?"

"I had no idea who you were battering," he said, spreading his hands. "I just saw that they weren't fighting back, and you appeared to be thoroughly absorbed in the pursuit. I thought it might be as well to give you a little time to consider, and if assaulting them further seemed like a good idea then perhaps I could assist."

"He's not dead, is he?" I said, suddenly worried. I stepped away from him. Somehow I didn't want to touch Morien again. Conal bent over and picked him up then set him carefully down on top of the stone.

"His blood beats in his veins, his breath stirs in his lungs," he said. He pulled up one eyelid and then the other. "Neither is he shamming unconsciousness, and he may well be rather ill when he wakes up. If you were to sing some womanly charm over him to make his head and stomach feel better and stop the swelling before it's too obvious, then you may yet be able to pass it off as a friendly family quarrel."

"Do you have a horse?" I asked.

"I do. She is tied up in the trees just there. Shall I fetch her so that she can assist your brother back to Thansethan?"

"Thank you," I said. I didn't much like being in Conal's debt, and Morien's reaction to the thought of Ulf was going to be nothing to Elenn's reaction to him, but I was grateful he had stopped me in time. When he was gone I did sing some charms over Morien, and they may have helped. In any case when Conal came back he was waking up.

Conal gave him some water. "You've had a terrible fall," he said, enthusiastically.

"Right onto your face. It's amazing your neck isn't broken. Can you tell me how it happened? Were you perhaps climbing on the rock to show your sister how it could be done and were you unlucky enough to slip off?"

"I must have been," Morien said, frowning at me. "Whatever are you doing so far from home, Conal?"

"I am a herald to Thansethan from Atha ap Gren," he said again, smiling and pointing at the twig on his cloak, -which I now saw was intended to resemble a herald's branch.

"Why in Sethan's name is Atha sending to Thansethan?" Morien asked, struggling to sit up.

Morien wasn't always a fool; it was a good question.

"In Sethan's name, precisely," Conal said. "She wants some better priests than the ones we are getting, all of whom are friends of Chanerig or, worse, Isarnagan oracle-priests he has converted all full of the spirit of the White God and eager to make us praise. If we must praise
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we must, but we think we can do it with a little less rigor."

"Don't say that to Father Gerthmol," I warned him.

He laughed. "I shall say that we want to praise in the tradition of Thansethan, not that we want less rigor."

"There's no less rigor," Morien said. "Father Cinwil, who is Aurien's priest at Magor, comas from Thansethan, and he's very rigorous."

"Well, would less crazy sound better?" asked Conal. "That is Atha's request, and I am here to deliver it for her."

"The queen's here," Morien said, suddenly realizing. "She won't put up with your presence icily the way her sister does."

"I think she will while I have a herald's branch," said Conal, carelessly. "Are you feeling well enough to go back to the monastery, Morien? I have my horse here so you needn't walk."

"It's very fortunate you came along," Morien said, and I echoed him. Conal put Morien on his horse. She was a broken-down old grey mare who looked barely capable of bearing Morien a mile, let alone Conal and his pack all the way from wherever he had left the sea.

"How is my uncle?" Conal asked.

"He is well, and so are all his people. His daughter broke her leg jumping off the stable roof last autumn, but she is as good as ever now."

The three of us went back to Thansethan together, making small talk, and none of us saying what we were thinking.

—41—

In the matter of judicial combats, no one may be forced to fight; they may always choose to set the matter before judgment instead. No one may bring challenge other than in their own person, nor against one whose worth is less than theirs. Challenge may not be made against, nor accepted by, one who has not reached the age of their full growth, nor against anyone who is not whole in body or wits.

If the challenge is answered by a champion, the one on whose behalf that champion fights bears both the price of their proved crime and the price, and the price only, of the blood guilt of their champion to the champion's family. Necessarily capital crimes may be defended against by judicial combats, should the accused party choose to fight, but may not be defended by champions. No champion shall receive, nor be seen to receive, recompense above the price of their wounds should they get any.

—The Law Code of Urdo ap Avren

Nobody could expect Conal to have as much decency as Ulf and to eat in the kitchen.

Besides, he was a herald, and by ancient tradition heralds must not be treated badly.

Father Gerthmol had just enough sense not to seat him with us but at one of the other tables. I could see him taking his place among the armigers, his twig now pinned to a fresh tunic. He looked cheerful and relaxed. Darien was at the same table, still dressed in brown robes, but I consoled myself that this would not be for long. I sat between Kerys and Morien, opposite my mother and Raul, to prevent Morthu from inflaming Morien again.

Ap Theophilus sat between Raul and Elenn. Morthu sat between Rigg and Father Gerthmol, opposite Urdo and Elenn. Morien looked uneasy at being between me and Rigg.

He wasn't comfortable with our new cousin yet. I saw Elenn search out Conal. Her eyes narrowed a little as she found him, then she looked away.

It was a fast day at Thansethan. We were given cold smoked fish and hot pease porridge. There was only water to drink. Elenn did not touch her food, and when Father Gerthmol inquired she murmured something and touched her stomach as if she were unwell. Morien spoke to Kerys and Veniva and said as little as he could to me. He looked a little
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bruised about the face but nobody mentioned it. It was an awkward meal. The armigers and the monks ate merrily, laughing and talking, but we at the king's table had very little to say.

Conal said something that occasioned great gales of mirth from his companions. Beris laughed so much she choked, and Conal very solicitously patted her on the back. Ap Padarn said something then that had the whole table in stitches, even Darien and the monks.

Then Conal raised his voice to say something over the din, and suddenly, as he did so, the room fell into one of those uneasy silences that occasionally fall onto even a large hall, so that his voice rang out alone. "So, if you're all here, where is that jolly Jarnsman your queen takes off to dally in the woods?"

The silence continued for an instant, an appalled hush. Everyone was looking at Elenn, whose eyes were lowered. Urdo had stopped with his spoon halfway to his mouth. For a moment I thought it would pass off. They would act as if they had not heard. People were always making ridiculous jokes about Elenn and Ulf, though never in her hearing. Gossip like that rarely got more than a groan in the ala. It was so obviously untrue and based on so little—Elenn always took an escort when she went riding, and there were a handful of arrmgers she preferred, and Ulf was one of them. That was the entire basis for the joke—no doubt Conal had seen them together that afternoon and his putting that interpretation on events was intended purely to amuse his companions. It was just like the joke about me and Urdo or about ap Selevan's love for one of the monks of