On the day of the King’s great banquet, Ridmark Arban was in a foul mood.
His confrontation with Kalussa and his conversation with Calliande had left him feeling drained and raw and ragged. Likely it was for the best. Ridmark should have been firm with Kalussa long ago. He hadn’t led her on, hadn’t flirted with her or given any indication that he intended to take her as a concubine, but neither had he been cold or hostile with her. Perhaps cold hostility had been necessary.
When he awoke the next morning, Kalussa was gone. Michael and Zuredek said that she had left in the night, taking her possessions with her and returning to the Palace of the High Kings. Ridmark still regretted how he had handled the matter. She had gotten on so well with the boys, and if not for Ridmark, she would have been friends with Calliande. For that matter, Kalussa had been brave and valiant, and they might not have won at Castra Chaeldon without her help.
Ridmark regretted alienating Kalussa, but she had forced him to choose between her and Calliande, and he had chosen Calliande.
He was glad that Calliande had finally conceded that Joanna’s death was not her fault. It was a step in the right direction. Ridmark knew grief, understood it far better than he would ever have wished, and he knew the grief of Joanna’s death would never leave Calliande, just as it would never leave him. But one learned to live with grief, and in time other things filled a life alongside it. The important part was that Calliande no longer blamed herself for Joanna’s death. That had poisoned her mind with grief. She had saved so many people with her magic, and the thought that she had failed to save her daughter was intolerable.
Now that Calliande accepted that she could have done nothing to save Joanna…well, perhaps she could mourn properly, mourn without ripping herself apart in the process.
Mourning self-destructively was also something that Ridmark understood well.
When he had said that Calliande’s efforts to get him past his grief for his first wife’s death had been exasperating, he hadn’t lied. She had been exasperating…but, then, she hadn’t been wrong, either.
Still, the conversations with Kalussa and Calliande had left Ridmark feeling emptied, and a foul mood filled that emptiness. Calliande had gone back to the Palace of the High Kings in the morning, saying she had more business with Queen Adrastea. Ridmark hoped she did not berate the Queen of Aenesium for encouraging her to accept Kalussa as Ridmark’s concubine, but he knew Calliande had better sense than that. King Hektor had no need for Ridmark’s presence that day since he was preparing for the banquet and then the arrival of the kings of Megarium, Callistium, and Echion.
So Ridmark spent most of the day with Tamlin and Aegeus and Kyralion, taking his foul mood out on them.
Fortunately, he had a productive way to do it.
“Again!” said Ridmark, stepping back, lifting Oathshield.
Tamlin wiped sweat from his forehead, blinking. “Another?”
“If Sir Aegeus is going to learn to use that dwarven axe properly without cutting off his own damned foot in the process,” said Ridmark, “then we’re going again.”
Aegeus grunted. “I like that argument.”
Ridmark, Tamlin, Aegeus, and Kyralion stood in the courtyard of Tamlin’s domus, swords in hand (or an axe in Aegeus’s case). Gareth and Joachim were in the corner, playing with practice wooden swords, though they stopped whenever one of the practice bouts began. Michael had seated himself on one of the benches, hands resting atop his cane, and watched the proceedings with great amusement.
“You never learned to fight with an axe,” said Ridmark. “Did you?”
Aegeus grimaced. “Is it that obvious?”
“I’m afraid so,” said Ridmark. “Then Arcanius Knights learn to fight with sword and mace and spear, I assume?”
“We do,” said Aegeus. “Unless you’re Tamlin Thunderbolt. Then you learn how to fight with every manner of weapon under the sun.”
Tamlin snorted. “You’re welcome to have taken my place in Urd Maelwyn.”
“Your swings are too vigorous,” said Ridmark.
“It helps take the head off,” said Aegeus.
“Aye, but for most foes, you don’t need to take their heads off,” said Ridmark. “Hit them hard enough in the right place, and they’ll go down. The way you’re swinging, it’s taking you too long to recover your balance, and you’re leaving yourself wide open. Here.” He sheathed Oathshield and held out his hand, and Aegeus handed him the axe with a look of amusement. Ridmark took a few practice swings with exaggerated slowness. “Do you see? Keep the axe controlled. Never have it so far out from you that you can’t pull it back, or use it to parry if necessary.”
“Lord Ridmark is correct, Sir Aegeus,” said Kyralion. “Seventeen times you left an obvious opening that a swordsman could exploit.”
“Seventeen?” said Aegeus, exasperated. “You counted?”
Kyralion shrugged. “It seemed prudent.”
Ridmark handed the axe back. “Your instincts are good. You’re still alive, after all. But control those swings. Leave yourself open once too often, and that will be that.”
“I’m afraid he’s right, Sir Aegeus,” said Michael. “Either you need to start carrying a shield, or not swing so wildly. I’ve seen it before. Get in axe in your hands, and your instinct is to start flailing away. Men know there’s art to sword work, but fewer of them know there’s an art to using an axe as well.”
Aegeus laughed. “Fine. If the Shield Knight, the gray elf, and the old gladiator all agree that I need to control my swings, I’ll control my swings.” He cracked his neck. “But tomorrow. Right now, I need to get ready for the banquet.”
Ridmark frowned and glanced at the sky. “So soon?”
Aegeus laughed. “I’m a bachelor, Lord Ridmark, and I don’t want to spend the night alone. And when I get a lovely lass into my bed, I…”
Tamlin cleared his throat and jerked his head towards Gareth and Joachim.
“I don’t want her to think I’m an unwashed churl,” said Aegeus.
Tamlin clapped him on the shoulder. “No, she’ll think you’re a washed churl.”
“Come along, Sir Aegeus,” said Michael, heaving himself to his feet. “I’ll have the saurtyri draw you a bath, and give you a shave. If you meet that lovely lass, we don’t want her thinking you’re an unshaven churl, now do we?”
Aegeus laughed and left with Michael, leaving Ridmark and Tamlin and Kyralion in the courtyard.
“These banquets,” said Ridmark. “Are they important?” He found himself looking for an excuse to get out of it, though he knew that was a bad idea.
“They are a tradition dating back to the founding of Owyllain,” said Tamlin. “Before the army marches to battle, the King hosts his Companions, his knights, his advisors, and as many common hoplites as will fit into the hall. They feast and drink and toast each other’s valor, and prepare themselves to face the battle on the morrow.”
Ridmark nodded, tapping his fingers against Oathshield’s hilt.
“I do think you should attend, Lord Ridmark,” said Tamlin. “It could be seen as an insult to King Hektor if you do not.”
“Damned politics,” muttered Ridmark. Still, Tamlin was right. And Hektor had not raised the issue of Kalussa again with Ridmark. Likely he had dispatched Adrastea to wear down Calliande instead. “No, you’re right. I’ll be there.”
Tamlin hesitated. “Is…Lady Kalussa still staying here, Lord Ridmark?” Ridmark looked at him. “Michael and Zuredek need to know. And she left without telling anyone.”
“I doubt it,” said Ridmark. “We…quarreled. Rather sharply. Likely she would prefer to stay at the Palace.”
“I see,” said Tamlin. “Well, Sir Aegeus has the right idea. I’m going to get ready for the banquet.”
Ridmark snorted. “Don’t feel like spending the night alone, is that it?”
“Well.” An odd expression flickered over Tamlin’s expression, a strange mixture of guilt and regret and old grief. “Not all men have your self-control, Lord Ridmark.”
He bowed and disappeared into the domus.
Ridmark spent the next hour with his sons, showing them more tricks of swordplay, though the training more often than not turned into a game. A pang of regret went through him. Both he and Calliande would leave with King Hektor’s army tomorrow. He knew that between Michael and Father Clement, the boys would be in good hands.
But Ridmark would not be with them.
He wondered if his own father had felt that way when his sons had gone off to become pages and squires, if Dux Gareth had felt that way. Ridmark wished he could have asked them, but both men had been dead for longer than Ridmark had been married to Calliande.
The thought put him in a darker mood, but he kept it from the boys.
At last Michael returned and suggested, as tactfully as possible, that Ridmark might wish to prepare for the banquet. Ridmark conceded the point and went to his room to shave, wash and dress as quickly as possible. He supposed he ought to don finery, but he hadn’t wanted to spend the money, and he was too irritable to care. Instead, he dressed as he usually did, but also donned his dark elven armor and his gray cloak, Oathshield at his belt. Since the dark elven armor was priceless, he supposed it was suitable garb for a banquet with a king.
Ridmark bade his sons good night and joined Kyralion in the domus’s entry hall. A few minutes later Aegeus and Tamlin joined them, and Ridmark fought to keep from laughing. Both Tamlin and Aegeus had donned garish red tunics with gold trim, evidently the formal garments of the knights of Owyllain. They had oiled their hair and polished their boots, and Tamlin had even found an ornamented scabbard for his sword. Suddenly Ridmark remembered his days as a squire and a young knight at Castra Marcaine, remembered how the squires and young knights had competed to impress the ladies of the court.
He felt old.
“Armor, Lord Ridmark?” said Aegeus.
Kyralion blinked. “Is that not the custom?”
“Custom or not,” said Ridmark, “it’s cheaper than buying a new tunic.”
“True enough,” said Tamlin. “Is Lady Calliande joining us?”
“She said she’ll meet me there,” said Ridmark. “Ready?”
They were, so Ridmark supposed it was time to get this over with.
###
Ridmark followed Tamlin and Aegeus into the great hall of the Palace of the High Kings, Kyralion trailing uncertainly after him.
He had to admit that Hektor Pendragon knew how to throw a splendid feast for his men.
Long tables and benches had been placed in the vast hall, and fires had been lit in every hearth, throwing dancing shadows over the walls. A high table had been set at the dais for King Hektor and his wife and children, and Ridmark glimpsed Rypheus standing there, laughing as she spoke with some of Hektor’s younger Companions. The high table had chairs, but the lower tables had benches. Ridmark wondered where he and Calliande would be seated.
For that matter, he wondered where she was. Had she been called off to heal someone?
“Lord Ridmark,” said Kyralion. “A request, if I may.”
“Aye?” said Ridmark.
“I wish to withdraw to the Palace’s gardens if it does not cause offense,” said Kyralion. “I am not comfortable with such a large gathering.”
“Of course,” said Ridmark. “You will not cause offense. You can return to Sir Tamlin’s domus if you wish.”
“I have spent much time traversing the wilderness alone,” said Kyralion. “This is the longest time I have ever spent in a city. A walk through the Palace’s gardens will be pleasant.”
“Go,” said Ridmark.
Kyralion hesitated. “Though I might fail my charge from the Augurs if I do not keep watch over you.”
“I doubt I’ll be in any danger here,” said Ridmark. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Kyralion offered a stiff bow and vanished through the doors into the gathering twilight, heading for the Palace’s gardens. Ridmark found himself envious.
He turned as a small army of saurtyri and serving women appeared, bearing trays with goblets of wine. One of the saurtyri approached Tamlin and offered a tray, and Tamlin took two goblets, and while Aegeus took only one.
“Thirsty, I take it?” said Ridmark.
Tamlin smiled. “The second is for you, Lord Ridmark.” He handed Ridmark the goblet. “Let us drink to victory.”
“A worthy toast,” said Ridmark. They clinked goblets and drank. Ridmark sipped at the wine and blinked in surprise. It was much stronger than he expected. He lowered the glass, his mouth tingling, and saw that both Tamlin and Aegeus had drained their goblets.
“You do realize,” said Ridmark, “that the army is going to start marching north tomorrow. Traveling with a hangover is not the most enjoyable experience.”
Aegeus grinned. “The hangover is part of the tradition, Lord Ridmark.” Already he and Tamlin had claimed another pair of goblets. Ridmark suspected that both the young Arcanius Knights intended to get as drunk as they could manage.
They would certainly regret that tomorrow.
“Some traditions are more trouble than they are worth,” said Ridmark.
Like concubinage, he thought.
“And some are not,” said Tamlin. There was already a flush to his face. That wine was strong stuff. “If you will forgive the observation, Lord Ridmark, I think you could benefit from a night of hard drinking. You are a man with heavy burdens. Surely something could lighten them.”
“Like a woman,” said Aegeus, eyeing one of the serving women.
“Indeed,” said Ridmark. He took another sip of the wine if only to shut them up. The gambit worked since Tamlin and Aegeus were immediately distracted by the arrival of a group of women at the other end of the hall. Unless Ridmark missed his guess, they were the wives and concubines and daughters of some of Hektor’s Companion knights.
He spotted Kalussa in their midst. She was wearing a slightly different dress from the one she had worn yesterday, her hair arranged in a different pattern. She was a long way away, but Ridmark thought she looked drawn, even pale, as if she had taken ill.
Ridmark looked away before she saw his gaze.
A saurtyri servant went past, and Ridmark set his unfinished goblet on the tray before Tamlin or Aegeus could notice.
“There’s Sir Tramond,” said Tamlin, pointing out the chief men of Hektor’s court. “Sir Arminios as well.”
“Will Earl Vimroghast be here?” said Ridmark. He had liked the jotunmiri earl, though, like all the jotunmiri, he tended towards long-winded speeches.
“I’m afraid not,” said Tamlin. “They have their own feast in one of the lower courtyards. Jotunmiri liquor is too strong for humans. They say ours tastes like water.” He took another drink. Was that his second goblet or had he started on a third?
“They’re not joking,” said Aegeus. “I took a sip of it once, and I thought I’d go blind.”
Ridmark listened to their banter with half an ear, nodding when appropriate. He hoped the food would be served soon. Tamlin had said that the toasts usually followed the food, so once Hektor had toasted his men, Ridmark thought he could slip away with causing offense or somehow making the knights of Owyllain think that he planned to overthrow their King. Hopefully, he would have figured out where Calliande had gone by then.
Just where the devil had she gone? Ridmark was about to call one of the pages over and ask if they knew where the Keeper was when both Tamlin and Aegeus looked to the side at the same time, almost like hounds who had caught a scent.
Ridmark followed their gaze and snorted in amusement.
Nearly fifty women in reunion dresses had entered the hall from the side doors, splitting up and heading towards various knights and Arcanii.
“Ah,” said Tamlin.
“This is a tradition as well, I take it?” said Ridmark.
“It is,” said Tamlin. “It is so the wives and concubines can comfort their husbands before the battle. And if a woman conceives a child on the eve of the army’s march, it is considered a sign of God’s favor.” He looked to the side and frowned as if trying to place a memory.
“Heh,” said Aegeus. Somehow he had drunk more than Tamlin already. “Comfort. That’s a good word for it. I always feel very comforted after.”
“I thought they were called reunion dresses,” said Ridmark.
Tamlin shrugged. “I didn’t pick the names.”
“Fair enough,” said Ridmark.
Tamlin was looking at a slender woman in a reunion dress, one who was walking right towards him. One of Tamlin’s former lovers, perhaps? Well, Tamlin might not have to wait long for “comfort” this evening. A flicker of amusement went through Ridmark. If the former lover was vengeful, Tamlin might have to…
Two facts penetrated Ridmark’s mind like the impact of arrows.
First, the woman wasn’t walking towards Tamlin. She was walking towards Ridmark.
Second, it was Calliande.
Wrapped up in his own thoughts, he hadn’t recognized her, but to be fair, he had never seen her dressed like this. The reunion dress fit her well, revealing the shape of what it concealed, and the firelight gave the exposed skin of her arms and shoulders and stomach a gentle glow. Jewels glinted on her fingers and wrists and ears. She had done up her hair, and it shone like a golden crown atop her head, and tricks of makeup had made her mouth redder, her blue eyes enormous in her face.
She stared at him like the rest of the world had ceased to exist.
“Perhaps we should greet Sir Tramond, Aegeus,” said Tamlin.
“Eh?” said Aegeus. “Oh, yes, right. Good evening to you, Lord Ridmark, Lady Calliande.”
The two men departed, and Calliande drew close, wrapped her arms around Ridmark, and kissed him.
“What’s this?” he said once she drew back. His voice had gone hoarse, and her eyes sparkled as she smiled.
“Do you like the dress?” said Calliande. “The Queen loaned it to me, along with the jewels.”
“Yes,” said Ridmark. He felt the skin of her back beneath his hands, warm and soft. “It…took me off guard. I wasn’t expecting this.”
“Well.” Calliande stepped back, grasping his hands. “I wouldn’t wear anything like this in Andomhaim. But, well, we are in Owyllain. Not all the customs are unpleasant. And this is surprisingly comfortable. It fits well, too. See?”
She turned in a circle, the skirt flaring a little, and Ridmark would not have noticed if the Palace of the High Kings had burned down around him at that moment.
“Yes,” said Ridmark.
Calliande grasped his hand. “Walk with me.”
“Where?” said Ridmark.
“Not here,” said Calliande.
She grasped his hand, and Ridmark could not look away from her. He had seen her dressed as the Keeper in a fine gown, he had seen her in traveling clothes, and he had seen her naked, but right now he could not look away from her.
The banquet forgotten, they walked from the great hall and into the night. Five of the thirteen moons were in the cloudless sky along with a blaze of stars. Calliande led him up a flight of stairs that climbed the Palace’s terraces, and they came to a broad garden near the Palace’s apex, quiet and secluded, overlooking the sea.
Calliande turned, the light of the moons and the stars painting her in silver light, and she took his face in both hands and kissed him. His arms went around her, and his hands slid down her back and over the smooth silk covering her hips. It would be so easy to pull the garments from her…
A flicker of doubt went through him as he remembered the last time they had tried this. But she had been half-mad with grief then. She hadn’t been like this, her eyes wide with desire, the curves of her chest rising and falling with the rapid draw of her breath.
“Wait,” said Ridmark. “The last time…”
“No,” murmured Calliande. “No more talking. The time for words is done.”
She kissed him again, harder this time, and Ridmark gave in.
###
Calliande helped Ridmark out of the last of his clothing, and he drew her down to the cool grass.
She was nervous, more nervous than the first time they had lain together as husband and wife. They had done this thousands of times, but she felt clumsy, almost fearful. What if she had been injured too badly?
But as it turned out, her fears were groundless. The last time had just been too soon after the ordeal of Joanna’s birth. Her body remembered what to do, even if she did not. Soon her arms and legs were coiled around Ridmark, her breathing fast and shallow. When she finished, it felt as if warmth exploded through her, and her back arched like a drawn bow. Had she not buried her face in Ridmark’s shoulder, no doubt her cry would have drawn half of Aenesium.
She had missed this. God, God, she had forgotten how much she needed him.
After, she lay against Ridmark as he caught his breath, one arm flung over his chest and her right leg entangled with his. Sweat glistened in the moonlight on his forehead and chest, and she wasn’t sure if it was his or hers. It didn’t matter.
Once his breathing had gotten back under control, she leaned up and kissed him.
“I missed you,” she whispered.
“I never left,” he said.
“I know,” said Calliande. “It’s just…”
“I understand,” said Ridmark. One hand brushed her hair. It had come loose during their recent exertions.
She kissed him again. “Let’s never wait that long again.”
“Not if I can help it,” said Ridmark, and she sighed in contentment and rested against him.
Ridmark Arban was not a man for idle boasting. He was ready again sooner than she had thought.
###
Rypheus stood near the dais, watching the guests of the banquet take their seats, watching his half-brothers and half-sisters move near the high table. Soon Hektor Pendragon would arrive, and the banquet would begin in earnest.
He felt the cold metal of the Sign waiting against his chest, the vial of poison grasped in his hand.
Tonight. Tonight, after waiting so long, he would show the power of the New God to all Owyllain.
And he would, at last, reveal Hektor Pendragon for the weakling and fool he really was.
***