years later. Basically, the Earl of March accused Kieldrou of having killed – murdered – his wife, who was related to the King.
I know, it’s a shocking accusation to have made. I can also tell you that other accusations were made later, by others, which would have been even more terrible had they been true; but it is significant that those other charges were never laid by Sturgar. The charge of murder was bad enough, I can tell you.
Believing themselves to be alone in the stable the two men discussed, albeit briefly, the entire affair; and I, Derian, a lowborn youth who had no business listening to this private conversation, was made fully aware of the whole, awful truth. Indeed, it was all I could do at that time not to gasp out loud, revealing my presence; and I believe that, had I done so, I might not be here today to tell that story.
“Now,” the Count finally said, waving his hand to banish the subject, as though brushing away cobwebs. I could see that he was breathing more deeply, not liking to discuss the matter so frankly, even with his dearest friend, and he was slightly flushed. “Let us take our ride. Where is that stable master?”
They called out for Theodred, who came running in from the yard, fawning and grovelling.
“Where is your lad, Derian?” Kieldrou demanded, quite harshly. The strain of talking of his feud with Sturgar had taken its toll on him, and his voice sounded hoarse.
“I do not know, lord,” trembled Theodred. I smiled to myself, despite the dire beating of my heart, to hear his discomfort.
“Well, fetch him, would you?” the Count’s foster-brother said, more gently, shooting Kieldrou a disapproving look. “We want him to saddle our horses.”
Theodred bowed and scraped his way out of the stables, calling my name as he went.
I stayed still, wondering whether I should make my presence known. If I stepped out now it would be obvious that I had heard all of their conversation, and I was not sure that I would survive the revelation. Yet if I remained hidden I would get a beating from Theodred, who would assume that I had abandoned my work and run off to play. I chose the beating, for at least I knew that I would live beyond that, even if I would be unable to sit down for a while.
But the Trallians themselves rescued me – at first, anyway – for they wandered out into the yard as they waited, leaving me alone with the horses. I stood up from my hiding place and stepped quietly out of the stall, patting the flank of the horse that had stood there so patiently, urging it not to make a noise until I was clear. I moved out into the passage, preparing to run off to the other end of the building. But luck was not with me that day, for at that very moment Derian strode back in from the yard.
The Trallian stopped in his tracks as he saw me; then, in two swift strides he was by my side, his hand gripping my arm in a vicelike grip. “Where were you, boy?” he hissed.
I stammered, unable to speak, trying to think of a convincing lie. It was no good, for my brain was as muddled as my mouth. The man’s grip on my arm tightened, and his eyes were hard as they bored into mine.
“How much did you hear?” he demanded, his voice low and menacing.
I confessed then, unable to lie to him. “But I swear I did not intend to listen, my lord. I was afraid, lest you should discover me.”
“You should have made your presence known from the start, then, you fool,” he hissed. “I should kill you for what you heard. And I will, if you breath a word to anyone.”
“I swear on my life, lord, I will say nothing,” I whimpered, my eyes filling with tears of pain, terror and relief. He nodded and let go of my arm.
Just then my world collapsed again, for the Count re-entered the stable and stopped short when he saw me standing there, his foster-brother looming menacingly over me.
“What’s this?” Kieldrou asked.
“Here is the stable lad,” Derian said, turning away from me and smiling. “He was asleep in the loft, and had just come down when I walked back in. Don’t worry,” he said to me, his eyes flashing dangerously. “We won’t tell Theodred that you were shirking your duties. Just make sure you don’t tell him anything yourself.”
I nodded, trying to ignore how the Count was eyeing me with suspicion, his eyes hard and narrow. He gave Derian a strange look, and stalked out of the stable again.
Derian swung back to me. “I warn you, lad,” he said, although not too unkindly. “What you heard is not for gossip and idle talk. If I even suspect that you have breathed a word of it to anyone, I will flay you alive, do you understand? That is, if Kieldrou doesn’t get to you first.”
I was visibly shaking, and I could feel my muscles relaxing with my fear. “Will you tell the Count?” I asked, my voice trembling.
Derian thought for a moment, then he nodded slowly. “I must,” he said, “in my own time and my own way. But do not worry – he will not come for you, so long as you keep your mouth shut. If I have spared you, he will not overturn that decision. Now, you saddle our horses, and quickly. We wish to ride today, not tomorrow.”
With that, he strode off, leaving me to contemplate my good fortune, if it could be called that.
The next day saw the arrival of the King himself, and I swear I have never been worked so hard, before or since. Standing in a line of battle and fighting all day long against the levies of Hussania is mere play compared with the toil I had to endure that day. Theofric rode into Gerroch with no fewer than four earls, eight barons, their respective ladies and, naturally, their whole entourage. The crowd of clerks, men-at-arms, maids, cooks, wagoners, pages and Hogra knows who else was immense, some five hundred people all told. I do not know just how many horses there were, but even though the nobles all had their own grooms with them, I spent the entire day and most of the evening at work: carrying fodder, cleaning stalls, grooming horses and arguing with the other grooms over whose horses took precedence in the castle stables. Of course, not all of the animals were stabled in the castle, as not all the people were, for there were too many; but I was even sent hurrying out into the town on two occasions, to help deal with the multitude of temperamental mounts that struggled to find space in the castle town.
And how many words of thanks did I get? None. No, not quite, for I was called at one point to assist the lady Atela, whose mount was skittish and who needed its head held while she dismounted. She was the niece of the Chancellor and the lady of Beresbridge, holding that barony from the King after the death of her husband a few years before. She was still young, and beautiful, and my knees trembled as I stood at her horse’s head, holding the reins and gently stroking its neck to calm it as she slid lightly down from the saddle. Then my heart was in my mouth as she turned to me and smiled, the most radiant smile, and thanked me for my help. I could hardly talk, my tongue cleaving to the roof of my mouth, and Atela laughed, a silvery ripple that stirred my heart as it did all men’s.
But I am getting carried away, for this tale is not about the lady of Beresbridge. She was in love with the Count of Trall at one point, and he with her, so it is not entirely irrelevant. No-one ever understood why he did not marry her, actually, particularly as he took a foreigner as his wife a few years later. By the time the King visited Gerroch, though, Atela had taken Derian as her lover instead, although it caused no problem for the three of them. In the end, of course, Atela married a king, Theofric IV, and was mother to a queen, so I suppose she was happy enough.
What is relevant to this tale, however, is that Sturgar, the Earl of March, came to the castle with the King, and with him came Gorden, the Earl of East Revenar, who had been fostered by Sturgar as a child, and who was related to him by marriage. Kieldrou’s concern had not been misplaced, then.
And by chance, ill-chance if you like, I found myself hiding behind a manger in the stables once more, when those two men came in search of somewhere private to talk. I knew I should stand up and leave before they even started talking, but youthful curiosity got the better of my fear and I stayed where I was, praying to Hogra, even to the Goddess who is only really worship
ped on Trall, that I would not be found out.
I do not need to repeat their conversation – indeed, as they spoke mainly about Sturgar’s feud with the Count of Trall, I cannot and will not say more. Suffice it to say that there were two things I learned as I lay there, half hidden under a pile of hay.
First, Sturgar’s version of the root of their enmity was different from Kieldrou’s. I suppose that should come as no surprise, for whenever two men argue, each views the disagreement in his own way. Sometimes their versions are not too dissimilar, perhaps only in emphasis. I was shocked, though, to hear what Sturgar said about the death of his wife for, had I not known what I by then knew, I would have thought he was talking about a completely different matter. There was no doubt in my mind whose version was the correct one, of course. Looking back on it, now I am old with the weight and wisdom of my years on my shoulders, I wonder if I was right, whether Kieldrou’s story was indeed the truth. But I was young and the Count had treated me kindly and fairly and had spared my life. When I had taken Sturgar’s horse the previous day the Earl had not even spared me a glance. Whose story would you have believed, I wonder?
But it was the second thing I learned that really matters to this tale. It was the Earl of