Within an hour the news had spread to settlements nearby and a larger crowd had gathered - many of them sick, or with boils, or deep cuts, or swollen joints.
Ruad woke Gwydion. ‘You had best eat, my friend. I fear you have a busy day ahead.’
For most of the morning Gwydion plied his trade on the porch of the cabin, receiving payment in copper and silver coin, goods - a battered knife and two hatchets, three blankets, a small sack of flour, a side of ham, a barrel of ale, a pair of boots, a cloak, two chickens, seven pigeons and a silver ring set with a black stone - and occasionally just the promise of food and a bed for the night should he desire it.
By noon the old man was exhausted and he sent away the fifteen or so who were still waiting, promising to see them tomorrow. He gave the chickens and the ham to Brion and then Ruad, he and the family enjoyed the small barrel of ale.
‘Had I known my powers would be so great here, I would have come five years ago,’ said Gwydion. ‘The Green is easy to find, and very strong.’
At dusk a rider came to the settlement. People hid behind locked doors, watching the man from behind barred shutters as he reined in his stallion before the house that boasted the three golden hounds.
‘Ollathair!’ he called. ‘Come forth!’
Ruad opened the door and stepped into sight. The man looked familiar, but his face was hard to see, for he wore a helm and though the visor was up the sun was behind him.
‘Who calls for Ollathair?’ Ruad asked.
The man dismounted. ‘One who knows him well,’ said the rider, approaching the Armourer. All colour fled from Ruad’s face as he recognized the workmanship of the battered helm and the grey eyes of the Once-Knight.
‘Manannan?’ he whispered. ‘It cannot be!’
‘It is Manannan,’ said the Once-Knight. ‘It is the traitor, Manannan. I have no right to ask this of you, but it would be pleasant if you would remove this damned helm. I fear the beard within the neck-plates is strangling me to death. I have worn it for six years.’
‘How did you get back?’
‘I never went. As Samildanach beckoned us forward, something inside me snapped. Fear swept through me like a storm, and I turned my horse away into the shadows.’
Despair struck Ruad anew. ‘Then you do not know what became of them?’
‘No. Will you help me?’
‘I cannot, Manannan. If I could, I would do it in an instant. But the spell I cast was to protect you in the inferno beyond the Gate and the Gate is the key. All spell-locks were made to be undone the moment you passed back through the Gate.’
‘What are you saying? That I am doomed to die in this metal cage?’
‘No,’ said Ruad softly. ‘I am saying you must pass the Gate and return.’
The Once-Knight staggered as if struck. ‘Pass the... alone? When I could not do it surrounded by the finest warriors in the world? Impossible!’
‘You would at least know the fate of your friends. You might even find them and bring them home. The gods know how they are needed now.’
‘And that is the only way for me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Let me inside, Ollathair. Let me sit and think.’
CHAPTER SIX
The country estates of the Lady Dianu covered six hundred acres, at the centre of which was a wooded valley. On the high ground to the west, some twelve miles from Mactha, was the old castle - derelict now, but still used by the local villagers for the May Dance and for open-air banquets in the summer. Beside it was the New House built by Dianu’s grandfather and boasting forty bedchambers, a central hall, two libraries and a lower hall with sleeping quarters for sixty slaves.
The windows were wide and the house had been built without concern for defence. At present only twelve servants were in residence, and the two upper floors were closed.
On the ground floor in the main, circular library, Dianu and her sister Sheera were meeting with the merchant Cartain, who had arrived in the night, travelling alone with false papers.
‘You must leave now,’ Cartain snapped. ‘Why do you not understand the danger? Okessa has been researching your family records. Believe me, there will be troops on the way.’
‘Errin would have warned me,’ said Dianu. ‘Have no fear, Cartain. Take Sheera and the two Nomad servants. I will meet you in Pertia Port.’
The sun was shining through the open window and Dianu moved to the sill, enjoying the scent of the roses below. The gardener waved at her.
‘I think we should listen to Cartain,’ said Sheera. She was dressed in riding buckskins, wearing tight well-fitting trews under a brushed hide tunic.
‘I do not think it becomes you, sister, to dress like a man,’ said Dianu. ‘Whatever will the servants think?’
Sheera shook her head. ‘You still think he is coming, don’t you? You believe that Errin will surrender his status and his lands to journey with you to Cithaeron? Well, he will not. Cartain has risked his life to help us escape. I think your attitude is selfish - and very foolish.’
‘I have five men waiting in the woods, my ladies,’ said Cartain. ‘If we leave now, we can be in Pertia Port in four days. Much of your wealth has already been shipped. You achieve nothing by delaying your departure, Lady Dianu, but you risk much.’
‘I do not believe the risk is as great as you say,’ Dianu maintained, smoothing the front of her white silk dress. ‘But very well; you go ahead with Sheera. I shall follow tomorrow, I promise you. I will need to pack, and I have ordered five wagons to be delivered here.’
‘Ordered... are you mad?’ hissed Cartain.
‘How dare you use that tone with me, sir! You think I would leave here without my mother’s heirlooms?’
‘This was to have been a secret departure, Lady Dianu. How secret will it be when it is known — as known it will be - that you have ordered five wagons?’
‘The people of Mactha have been loyal to my family for generations, Cartain. They will say nothing.’
The merchant shook his head and turned to the taller sister. ‘Will you travel with me now, my lady?’
‘I will, Cartain,’ she agreed. Sheera rose and walked to her sister. ‘I think you are wrong, Dianu, but I hope to see you in Pertia Port.’
‘Safe journey,’ said Dianu, leaning to kiss her sister’s cheek. ‘I will be several days behind you. The wagons will be slow-moving.’
‘Might I ask,’ enquired Cartain, ‘how you intend to protect this valuable cargo when you pass Groundsel’s realm?’
‘I have hired soldiers to escort me,’ Dianu told him.
‘I thought you might have done,’ said Cartain softly. ‘You will not, by any chance, have trumpets sounded as you leave?’ Without waiting for an answer, he spun on his heel and strode from the room. Sheera caught up with him by the doorway as he stepped into the sunlight.
‘You should not have been rude, Cartain.’
He breathed a deep sigh. ‘No, I should not. Her rank demands respect, but her stupidity is hard to bear.’
‘It is not stupidity, sir merchant. It is stubbornness. There is a difference,’ she said, swinging herself into the saddle of a tall black gelding.
He mounted his own bay mare. ‘Yes, there is,’ he admitted, ‘and I will accept your point if she is proved to be right. But we are dealing here in life or death. And to risk life for a few pretty pieces of silver is not wise.’
He spurred his mount down the gravel path as Sheera swung in the saddle. Dianu had leaned out of the window and plucked a red rose, which she waved at her sister.
Sheera raised her arm in farewell, then thundered her mount after the merchant.
Dianu was arrested by the soldiers she had hired to protect her and brought under guard to Mactha - her servants with her, her wagons piled with her possessions.
The Duke visited Errin with the news. ‘You realize, Errin, that you can no longer stand for her? She is now an accepted traitress, never mind her Nomad blood. It frees you from this insane battle
.’
Errin sat by the narrow window, staring out over the countryside. He looked at the Duke and smiled.
‘How does it free me, my Lord? I love the woman; I cannot stand by and see her shipped to Gar-aden.’
The Duke poured himself a goblet of wine and drank deeply. ‘She will not be sent to Gar-aden,’ he said, his voice almost a whisper.
‘What? Why?’
‘That is for Nomads.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘You know what I am saying, Errin. She is to be tried as a traitress and sentenced to death, probably at the stake.’
‘Sweet Heaven, is the world mad?’ said Errin, rising and slamming his fist against the stone of the sill.
‘There is nothing you can do. Nothing! Cairbre will kill you in seconds — and what will it achieve? One more noble line ended. Is a stupid gesture worth your life? It would be different were you an Elodan, but you are not. Errin, my page could best you with the sword.’
‘I fear that is no longer the point, my Lord. What sane man would desire to live in a world such as this? And how could I look at myself in a mirror, knowing I had done nothing to save the woman I love?’
The Duke poured a second goblet of wine and drained it; he was looking tired, and his eyes were bloodshot. ‘Cairbre does not want to fight you. He has asked me to see you... to implore you to reconsider.’
‘I will be at the field tomorrow and it will be decided by the laws of the Gabala,’ said Errin. ‘I am sorry, my Lord. You must find another Lord of the Feast for the King’s visit.’
‘You realize this is what Okessa wants? You know that his is the only victory?’
‘I care nothing for Okessa. He told me I would die in five days - and that is tomorrow. Long may he laugh.’
‘Would you like me to practise with you?’
Errin gazed at the Duke and realized the man was sincere. It touched him. Greedy, cruel, lustful - all these vices the Duke had and yet, still, there was a place for compassion. ‘Thank you, but no,’ said Errin. Suddenly he chuckled. ‘You think I can become a champion in one day?’
The Duke smiled. ‘You remember the year I won the Silver Lance? You were my page. You brought me my sword and the scabbard slipped between your legs, sprawling you to the dust. I knew then you’d never be a knight. Come Errin, let us get drunk.’ He offered his friend a full goblet of wine, but Errin shook his head.
‘Will you allow me to see Dianu?’
‘Of course... for as long as you want.’
‘Privately?’
‘I guarantee it, my friend.’
An hour later Errin was led through the dungeon corridor to a long room at the end. Dianu was there. There were no chains, and a comfortable bed and two chairs had been placed at her convenience. She was dressed still in her riding clothes, a grey velvet doublet and black hose. Her dark hair flowed free now, making her seem younger than her nineteen years.
Errin heard the door close behind him and opened his arms, but she just stood by the bed staring at him, her eyes wide, her lips trembling. He moved to her, drawing her to him.
‘They are going to burn me alive,’ she whispered. ‘Burn me!’
He could say nothing, except perhaps to tell her he would not be alive to see it - and that would bring her scant comfort. So he held her in silence.
After a while she pulled back from him. ‘I love you,’ she said. ‘I have done so ever since I was small and you used to come to our palace with your father. You remember the games of hunt-and-find in the gardens?’
‘Yes. It was always easy to find you; you always moved.’
‘I always wanted to be found,’ she said. ‘By you.’
‘I wish I had come with you. I wish we had gone on the night of the Feast. I wish....’
‘Is it true that you are going to champion me, Errin?’
‘Yes.’
‘Against the Red Knight?’
He nodded. ‘You would expect me not to?’
‘No, I have always known you were the bravest of men, but can you win? And even if you do, will they allow me to depart?’
‘I cannot answer either of these questions. Tomorrow we will know. But today, now, we have each other, and today may... be all that we have. I don’t mind if we just sit quietly, saying nothing. I just want to be here with you.’
‘We will not be disturbed?’
‘No, the Duke has promised.’
She unfastened the laces of her doublet and said, ‘Then be with me, Errin, be part of me.’
At midnight Errin slid from the bed - leaving Dianu sleeping — and tapped on the door, which was opened by a burly guard. The man closed the door quietly and locked it. He would not meet Errin’s gaze and led the way silently to the upper levels.
As the guard turned to go, Errin touched him on the shoulder. ‘Treat her gently,’ he said. The man said nothing and glanced down at Errin’s outstretched hand; two gold Raq nestled in his palm. The guard took the money and walked away; then he stopped and spoke without turning. ‘I would have done so anyway,’ he said, ‘but I need the money.’
Errin smiled. ‘Let her sleep for as long as she will. Tomorrow will be a long, fearful day.’
He returned to his own apartments, where Boran had placed his battle armour on a wooden stand. Errin stood and gazed at the weapons laid out on the narrow table before the stand: longsword, battle-axe, mace and chain. He had worn the armour only once, at the coronation of the King seven years ago; he had never fought in it. The helm was cylindrical, with a broad slit across the face. Errin lifted it and placed it on his head; it was lined with cushioned velvet and sat snugly in place. He could hear his own breathing, like the sound of a wolf creeping forward in the darkness. His vision through the eye-slit was limited. Removing the helm, he tossed it to his bed. The sword was double-handed and he hefted it, trying to recall the advice of Sword-master Pleus more than a decade before. But all he could remember was the man shaking his head and telling him he was too clumsy, and that he had two left feet.
Errin sat at the northern window with the sword in his lap until the dawn streaked the sky, when Boran entered silently.
‘My Lord, will you eat breakfast?’
‘No. I have no appetite.’
‘If I may say so, respectfully, you are not being wise. To fight, a man must have strength — and this comes from the food we eat. I have prepared some honey-cakes. Please eat something.’
‘It ill becomes a man to die on a full stomach, Boran. I have seen dead men; their bowels open, you know, and they stink. I have no wish to stink.’
‘On the field today, sir, there will be two men with swords. Now swords have no brains, they go where they are directed. Sir Cairbre may be a wondrous warrior, but he might slip in the mud just as you strike. Best to be prepared. I shall fetch the honey-cakes.’
As Boran turned the door opened and Sir Cairbre entered. He was wearing his crimson armour and carrying his round, plumed helm under his arm. He approached Errin and bowed.
‘Good morning, my Lord,’ he said softly. ‘Have you reconsidered this unwise action?’
‘I have not, sir. Nor shall I!’
‘Leave us!’ ordered Cairbre, but Boran stood his ground.
‘I take no orders from you, sir,’ he said, reddening.
Errin rose. ‘Thank you, Boran. Fetch the honey-cakes if you please, and some fresh water for our guest.’
The servant departed and Errin, realizing he still held the longsword, hurled it to the bed where it clanged against his helmet.
‘I applaud your courage, Lord Errin,’ said Cairbre, ‘but it will avail you nothing. The Duke has explained to me that you are no swordsman, and I have no wish to walk on to the field for the purpose of simple butchery.’
‘But that is the law, Sir Cairbre - the King’s law. I have the right to champion my lady — is that not so?’
‘Indeed it is, sir. But even if you win - you lose. As the Lord Seer Okessa has pointed out, even if you d
efeat me you will only establish the Lady Dianu’s innocence of the charge of treason. She will still be a Nomad and thus required to travel to Gar-aden. And at that point you will be arrested for treason.’
‘How so? I have never spoken against the King.’
‘But, sir,’ said Cairbre, smiling softly, ‘you are about to fight the King’s champion. Therefore you are setting yourself against the King, and that makes you a traitor.’
‘That is logic of the most dubious kind, Sir Cairbre. The right of the accused to be championed has been with us for a thousand years. In one stroke you remove that right for men - or women - deemed the King’s enemies?’
‘Traitors should have no rights,’ Cairbre declared.
‘And how then are we to decide who is a traitor?’
‘The facts should judge, not the skills of swordsmen.’
‘And who decides the facts?’
‘The King, or the King’s judges.’
‘I see,’ said Errin. ‘An interesting hypothesis. Let us say that a farmer has a complaint against his liege lord. Is it fair that the liege lord decides his case?’
‘We are not talking of farmers, but of the King. His word is the law - and his wishes are above the laws of men,’ said Cairbre. ‘Despite knowing the Lady Dianu is of Nomad blood, you have decided to champion her. Thus you are championing the cause of all Nomads -regardless of their rank. Can you not see that you are defying your King?’
Boran returned with the honey-cakes and then left. Errin poured Cairbre a goblet of water. ‘Can you not see, sir Knight,’ he said persuasively, ‘that in history there have been bad kings as well as good?’
‘What point is there in such a question? Are you saying the King is bad?’
‘No, no. Do not put words in my mouth, sir. I am saying that the past shows us that a bad king, or an evil king, or a foolish king can make appalling decisions which are not good for the realm. If we say now that the King is above the law, then in a hundred years a bad king may abuse such a position.’