2.

 

 

 

THE MOST REMOTE PROVINCE OF DAHAUT WAS THE MARCH, governed by Claractus, Duke of the March and Fer Aquila—a title somewhat hollow, since the old Duchy of Fer Aquila had long been occupied by the Celts for their kingdom Godelia. The March was a poor land, sparsely populated, with a single market town, Blantize. A few peasants tilled barley and herded sheep; in a few tumbled old castles a rag-tag gentry lived in little better case than the peasants, consoled only by their honour and devotion to the doctrines of chivalry. They ate more gruel than meat; draughts blew through their halls, flickering the flames in the wall sconces; at night ghosts walked the corridors, mourning old tragedies.

At the far west of the March was a wasteland supporting little but thorn, thistle, brown sedge and a few spinneys of stunted black cypress. The wasteland, which was known as the Plain of Shadows, met the outlying fringes of the great forest in the south, skirted the Squigh Mires in the north and to the west abutted the Long Dann, a scarp generally three hundred feet high and fifty miles long, with the upland moors of North Ulfland beyond. The single route from the plain below to the moors above led through a cleft in the Long Dann. During ancient times a fortress had been built into the cleft, closing the gap with stone blocks, so that the fortress effectively became part of the cliff. A sally port opened upon the plain, and high above a line of parapets fronted a terrace, or walkway. The Danaans had named the fortress ‘Poëlitetz’: ‘the Invulnerable’; it had never been taken by frontal assault. King Aillas of Troicinet had attacked from the rear, and so had dislodged the Ska from what had been their deepest salient into Hybras.

Aillas with his son Dhrun now stood on the parapets, looking out over the Plain of Shadows. The time was close upon noon; the sky was clear and blue; today the plain showed none of the fleeting cloud shadows which had prompted its name. Standing together, Aillas and Dhrun seemed much alike. Both were slender, square-shouldered, strong and quick by the action of sinew rather than massive muscle. Both stood at middle stature; both showed clear clean features, gray eyes and light brown hair. Dhrun was easier and more casual than Aillas, showing in his style the faintest hint of carefully restrained flamboyance, along with an indefinable light-hearted elegance: qualities which gave charm and color to his personality. Aillas, constrained by a hundred heavy responsibilities, was somewhat more still and reflective than Dhrun. His status required that he mask his natural passion and intensity behind a face of polite indifference: to such an extent that the trait had become almost habitual. Similarly, he often used a mildness close upon diffidence to disguise his true boldness, which was almost an extravagance of bravado. His swordsmanship was superb; his wit danced and flickered with the same sure delicacy, coming in sudden flashes like sunlight bursting through the clouds. Such occasions transformed his face so that for a moment he seemed as youthful and jubilant as Dhrun himself.

Many folk, observing Aillas and Dhrun together, thought them to be brothers. When assured otherwise, they tended to wonder at Aillas’ precocity in the fathering of his child. Dhrun, in point of fact, had been taken as an infant to Thripsey Shee; he had lived among the fairies—how many years: eight, nine, ten? There was no way of knowing. Meanwhile time in the outer world had advanced but a single year. For compelling reasons, the circumstances of Dhrun’s childhood had been kept secret, despite speculation and wonder.

The two stood leaning on the parapets, watching for those they had come to meet. Aillas was moved to reminisce of earlier times. “I am never comfortable here; despair seems to hang in the air.”

Dhrun looked up and down the terrace, which in the bright sunlight seemed inoffensive enough. “The place is old. It must be impregnated with misery, which weighs upon the soul.”

“Do you feel it, then?”

“Not to any great extent,” Dhrun admitted. “Perhaps I lack sensitivity.”

Aillas, smiling, shook his head. “The explanation is simple: you were never brought here as a slave. I have walked these very stones with a chain around my neck. I can feel the weight and hear the jangle; I could probably trace out where I placed my feet. I was in a state of utter despair.”

Dhrun gave an uneasy laugh. “Now is now; then is then. You should feel exultation in that you have more than evened the score.”

Aillas laughed again. “I do indeed! Exultation mixed with dread makes for an odd emotion!”

“Hmf,” said Dhrun. “That is hard to imagine.”

Aillas turned to lean again on the parapet. “I often wonder about ‘now’ and ‘then’ and ‘what is to be’, and how one differs from the other. I have never heard a sensible explanation, and the thinking makes me more uneasy than ever.” Aillas pointed to a place down upon the plain. “See that little hillock yonder, with the scrub growing up the slopes? The Ska put me to digging in a tunnel, which was to extend out to that hillock. When the tunnel was finished, the tunnel gang would be killed, in order to secure the secret. One night we dug up to the surface and escaped, and so I am alive today.”

“And the tunnel: was it ever finished?”

“I would expect so. I have never thought to look.”

Dhrun pointed across the Plain of Shadows. “Riders are coming: a troop of knights, to judge by the glint of metal.”

“They are not punctual,” said Aillas. “Such indications are meaningful.”

The column approached with stately deliberation, and finally revealed itself to be a troop of two dozen horsemen. In the van, on a high-stepping white horse, rode a herald, clad in half-armour. His horse was caparisoned in cloths of rose-pink and gray; the herald carried high a gonfalon showing three white unicorns on a green field: the royal arms of Dahaut. Three more heralds followed close, holding aloft other standards. Behind, at a dignified distance, rode three knights abreast. They wore light armour and flowing cloaks of rich colors: one black, one dark green, one pale blue. The three were followed by sixteen men-at-arms, each holding high a lance from which fluttered a green pennon.

“They make a brave show, despite their journey,” observed Dhrun.

“So they have planned,” said Aillas. “Again, such indications are significant.”

“Of what?”

“Ah! Such meanings are always more clear in retrospect! As for now, they are late, but they have troubled to make a fine arrival. These are mixed meanings, which someone more subtle than I must interpret.”

“Are the knights known to you?”

“Red and gray are the colors of Duke Claractus. I know him by reputation. The company would be riding from Castle Cirroc, which is the seat of Sir Wittes. He is evidently the second knight. As for the third—” Aillas looked along the terrace and called to his herald Duirdry, standing a few yards distant. “Who rides in the company?”

“The first standard is that of King Audry: the company comes on royal business. Next, I note the standards of Claractus, Duke of the March and Fer Aquila. The other two are Sir Wittes of Harne and Castle Cirroc, and Sir Agwyd of Gyl. All are notables of long lineage and good connection.”

“Go out upon the plain,” said Aillas. “Meet these folk with courtesy and inquire their business. If the response comes in respectful language, I will receive them at once in the hall. If they are brusque or minatory, bid them wait, and bring me their message.”

Duirdry departed the parapets. A few moments later he emerged from the sally port with two men-at-arms for escort. The three rode black horses furnished with simple black harness. Duirdry displayed Aillas’ royal standard: five white dolphins on a dark blue field. The men-at-arms carried banners quartered in the arms of Troicinet, Dascinet, North and South Ulfland. They rode a hundred yards out upon the plain, then drew up their horses and waited in the bright sunlight, with the dun scarp and fortress looming behind them.

The Daut column halted at a distance of fifty yards. After a pause of a minute while both parties sat immobile, the Daut herald rode forward on his white horse. He reined to a halt five yards in front of Duirdry.

Watching from the parapets, Aillas and Dhrun saw the Daut herald speak the message dictated by Duke Claractus. Duirdry listened, made a terse response, turned about and rode back into the fortress. Presently he reappeared on the terrace and made his report.

“Duke Claractus extends his greetings. He speaks with the voice of King Audry, to this effect: ‘In view of the amicable relations holding between the Kingdoms of Troicinet and of Dahaut, King Audry desires that King Aillas terminate his encroachment upon the lands of Dahaut with all possible expedition and withdraw to the recognized borders of Ulfland. By so doing, King Aillas will eliminate what is now a source of grave concern for King Audry and will reassure him as to the continuation of the harmony now existent between the realms.’ Duke Claractus, speaking for himself, desires that you now open the gates to his company that they may occupy the fortress, as is their duty and their right.”

“Return,” said Aillas. “Inform Duke Claractus that he may enter the fortress, with an escort of two persons only, and that I will grant him an audience. Then bring him to the low hall.”

Again Duirdry departed. Aillas and Dhrun descended to the low hall: a dim chamber of no great size cut into the stone of the cliff. A small embrasure overlooked the plain; a doorway gave on a balcony fifty feet above the mustering yard at the back of the sally port.

Upon instructions from Aillas, Dhrun stationed himself in an anteroom at the front of the hall; here he awaited the Daut deputation.

Duke Claractus arrived without delay, along with Sir Wittes and Sir Agwyd. Claractus marched heavily into the chamber, and halted: a man tall and massive, black-haired, with a short black beard and stern black eyes in a harsh heavy face. Claractus wore a steel war-cap and a cloak of green velvet over a shirt of mail, with a sword swinging from his belt. Sir Wittes and Sir Agwyd were accoutered in similar style.

Dhrun spoke: “Your Grace, I am Dhrun, prince of the realm. Your audience with King Aillas will be informal and therefore is not a suitable occasion for the display of weapons. You may doff your helmets and place your swords on the table, in accordance with the usual precepts of chivalry.”

Duke Claractus gave his head a curt shake. “We are not here seeking an audience with King Aillas; that would be appropriate only in his own realms. He now visits a duchy within the Kingdom of Dahaut, such duchy being governed by myself. I am paramount here, and the protocol is different. I deem this occasion to be a field parley. Our attire is appropriate in every respect. Lead us to the king.”

Dhrun politely shook his head. “In that case I will deliver the message of King Aillas and you may return to your company without further ado. Listen closely, for these are the words you must convey to King Audry.

“King Aillas points out that the Ska occupied Poëlitetz over a period of ten years. The Ska also controlled the lands along the top of the Long Dann. During this time they encountered neither protest nor forceful counteraction from King Audry or yourself or from any other Daut agency. By the tenets of the common law dealing with cases of uncontested settlement, the Ska by their acts and in default of Daut counteracts gained ownership in full fee and title to Poëlitetz, and the lands along the top of the Long Dann.

“In due course the Ulfish army, commanded by King Aillas, defeated the Ska, drove them away, and took their property by force of arms. This property thereby became joined to the Kingdom of North Ulfland, with full right and legality. These facts and the precedents of history and common practice are incontestable.”

Claractus stared long and hard at Dhrun. “You crow loudly for such a young cockerel.”

“Your Grace, I merely repeat the words taught me by King Aillas, and I hope that I have not offended you. There is still another point to be considered.”

“And what is that?”

“The Long Dann is clearly the natural boundary between Dahaut and North Ulfland. The defensive strength of Poëlitetz means nothing to Dahaut; however, it is invaluable to the kingdoms of North and South Ulfland, in the case of attack from the east.”

Claractus gave a hoarse laugh. “And if the attacking armies were Daut, what then? We would bitterly regret failing to claim our territory, as we do now.”

“Your claim is denied,” said Dhrun modestly. “I might add that our concern is not for the Daut armies, valorous though they may be, but for the forces of King Casmir of Lyonesse, who hardly troubles to conceal his ambitions.”

“If Casmir dares to venture a single step into Dahaut, he will suffer a terrible woe!” declared Claractus. “We will chase him the length of Old Street, and bring him to bay at Cape Farewell, where we will cut him and his surviving soldiers into small bits.”

“Those are brave words!” said Dhrun. “I will repeat them to my father, for his reassurance. Our message to King Audry is this: Poëlitetz and the Long Dann are now part of North Ulfland. He need fear no aggression from the west, and therefore may apply his full energies against the Celt bandits who have caused him so much travail in Wysrod.”

“Bah,” muttered Claractus, unable for the moment to make any remark more cogent.

Dhrun bowed. “You have heard the words of King Aillas. There is no more to be said and you have my permission to go.”

Duke Claractus glared a single moment, then swung on his heel, gestured to his companions and with no further words left the chamber.

From the embrasure Aillas and Dhrun watched the column receding across the Plain of Shadows. “Audry is somewhat languid and even a bit airy,” said Aillas. “He may well decide that in this case his honour is not truly compromised. So I hope, since we need no more enemies. Nor, for that matter, does King Audry.”