The King's Name
“These men are not hostages, but my sworn men. I will not surrender them to your demand,” Urdo said, very sternly.
“Then I will keep your queen as pledge of your good conduct toward them,” Arling said. Morthu smiled, and I caught myself shivering to see it. “As heir of Sweyn Rognvaldsson I am King of Jarnholme and of all the Jarnsmen on this island, and I claim dominion over them all.”
Ohtar, sitting beside me, made a little growling noise in his throat. “Bereich does not accept your dominion,” he said.
“The men you name are scattered among my alae, but tomorrow I will bring those who are here to speak for themselves,” Urdo said.
Then Angas spoke for a long time, prompted by Morthu, about Urdo’s supposed high-handedness in dealing with the kings.
That day we achieved even less than the day before.
Again, none of the others would stop and speak to us personally when we finished for the day. We walked back up the hill toward the camp through the warm evening air. We picked up our weapons where we had left them that morning. The guard looked glad to be relieved of them. It had been a very hot, weary day and I was looking forward to bathing in the stream.
“You need to master your hate,” Raul said to Darien. Darien had spent most of the day saying little, looking straight ahead, entirely expressionless.
“I am,” Darien said, through gritted teeth.
Urdo laughed. “I think we would all have been at Morthu’s throat several times today if not for the herald-peace.”
“Oh, yes!” I said, and sighed at the thought of how satisfying his throat would feel under my hands.
“Yes. I do not like being referred to, even sideways, as someone who is loyal because he cannot think for himself,” Cadraith said. “And as for Arling’s claim over the Jarnish kings, where is Ayl?” We passed through our outer sentryring, giving the signals.
“Ayl is coming on as slowly as he can and not be seen as deliberately dragging his feet,” Ohtar said. He, too, had been very quiet all day, apart from that one comment and growl. “I spoke to him. He would like to think about Aylsfa and his harvest. He wants nothing more than for Arling to vanish in a puff of air and never have troubled him.”
“Then why did he not stay loyal?” Urdo asked.
“It is twelve years since Foreth,” Ohtar said, looking at Urdo sideways under lowered eyebrows.
“Yes?” Urdo asked.
“Do you know how many of his huscarls Ayl lost at Foreth?” Ohtar asked. “Most of the men who fell were those he could rely on, the trustworthy great men of his kingdom. He lost a brother and a nephew there. Those who were left, including his brother Sidrok, were those who were less competent, or those he could trust less. Now the sons of the men who died are old enough to fight and to want vengeance. Ayl has done his best to invite in families from Jarnholme who will be loyal. Without them he would be in sad straits indeed. His marriage alliance has helped him a great deal, also. But now that is pulling him in the wrong direction. It is not easy for Ayl. If Arling had landed in Tevin he might have managed it, but with him right there, handing out rich gifts and promising glory? Ayl would have been torn apart by his own people if he had called for loyalty.”
“But Aylsfa has prospered in the Peace,” Raul said, frowning.
“That is true, and Ayl knows it. His farmers know it, too. But the huscarls? They would find it hard to see from close up, especially those who were thirteen years old at the time of Foreth and are fighting men of twenty-five now, who never have struck a blow in war,” Ohtar said. He shook his head at the thought. His hair and beard, grizzled when I had last seen him, were silver now.
Darien raised his chin. “It is like the kings. They would not have risen, but given an excuse to rise, they have.”
“What Arling didn’t say in front of his Tanagan allies is that he has been offering gold and plunder to any Jarnish king who joins him” Ohtar said.
“You weren’t tempted?” Urdo asked, in the calm tones in which he would ask to be passed a jug of water.
“I am too old to be such a fool,” Ohtar said, and grinned unexpectedly. “Bereich is firmly under my hand, I have learned the benefits of Peace, I don’t believe they can win, and besides, I keep my oaths.”
“I never doubted the last,” Urdo said. He and Ohtar smiled at each other. “It is good you were there today to give a good example of Jarnsmen living within our Peace. And it will not hurt us at all to have Ulf and Cynrig there tomorrow to do the same.”
“Everything Arling said about that is nonsense,” Darien said. “If Sweyn had heirs and left them anything, then they would be his son and daughter, who are alive and well in Caer Lind.”
“Nephews inherit in Jarnholme,” I said. “I know it sounds crazy, but they think better a grown nephew than a halfgrown son.”
“Oh, and no king would ever die in bed at the age of seventy with their son nearly forty and a father himself,” said Cadraith, whose own father had done just that.
Ohtar laughed. “It’s not the usual way for kings in Jarnholme, though some of us are hoping to set new traditions on this island. I am four and sixty, and my grandson and heir is two and twenty.”
“How old was Alfwin’s father, Cella?” Cadraith asked. “His son followed him.”
“His youngest son, at that,” I said. “But Cella was murdered, and so was his heir. That hardly counts.”
We crossed back into the camp then, and almost at once Atha came toward us. “It’s strange to be allied with her,” Ohtar said, gesturing. “I would guess it would be something keeping the Lord of Angas ranged against you, seeing Atha ap Gren here. We had a hard time of it in Demedia ten years ago.”
“I have thought of that,” Urdo said. “But she came with help in a time of need. I know you fought against her then, but will you eat with her now?”
“I will,” Ohtar said. “I have fought beside her since, and been glad she was there.” I wondered what they had said to each other beside Caer Tanaga. They were unlikely allies to find fighting together for Urdo’s Peace, who had both fought separately against it.
I went off to bathe and to visit the wounded, who were suffering strange fevers and swellings of their wounds. Some of them were seriously unwell. My scratch was healing, uncomfortably, but definitely healing. These more serious wounds did not appear to be improving. Ap Darel tried to be cheerful in front of the patients but was clearly very worried.
“I think we should send the worst cases out of Segantia,” he said, when we were alone. “If the curse is on this land then the charm should work and they should heal when they are out of it.”
“If we could send them anywhere,” I said. “There are enemies around us. The whole army could move, but a handful of wounded people would be stopped.”
“Then the whole army should move out of Segantia,” said ap Darel hopefully. “We could be back in Tathal in a day, or in Magor, or even Munew.”
“I will suggest it to the High King,” I said. “But do not hope for too much. I think we will wait here while these truce talks continue.”
“Will they achieve anything, do you think?” ap Darel asked.
“Time for ap Erbin and Luth and ap Meneth to join us here, at the very least,” I said.
“More troops will do us little good if the ones we have die of plagues out of the history books,” ap Darel said, and walked off, leaving me staring after.
Urdo, as I had expected, said that we could not move without breaking the terms of the truce.
The day after, Ulf and Cynrig came down to the talks with us. Cynrig had asked me what to wear, and I had suggested his ordinary decurio’s clothes. Ulf also wore his usual armor, but with his hands bare. This made it very clear that he was wearing the huge worked-gold armring he had worn at Foreth, but which I had never seen on him since. Ohtar wore twice as much gold, and his bearskin cloak, but somehow he did not look anything like as barbaric.
The other side had brought two more people than the day be
fore. One of them was clearly Ayl; I recognized his walk before he was near enough to see his face. The other was a man dressed in red. When he came nearer I saw by his pale skin and dark hair that he was half Jarnish. His cloak had a white walrus embroidered on it, and from that I guessed who he must be. I glanced at Ohtar, whose sign this was, and saw that his normally pale face was so red as to be almost purple. Ohtar’s son Aldred had married Rheneth ap Borthas, Flavien’s aunt, and after the birth of a son, Aldred had died of poison. This man, who had been brought up in Tinala, must be Ohtar’s grandson.
Urdo put his hand on Ohtar’s arm. We waited while they seated themselves. The man in red was introduced by Flavien as “Walbern ap Aldred,” a form of name which seemed to incense Ohtar still more. In looking at Walbern I had missed seeing how Arling took Ulf’s appearance; if it had surprised him he had got over it. He was looking sneeringly at Atha. He hardly glanced up when I introduced Ulf and Cynrig, though Morthu gibed that it was strange to see a Jarnsman prefer to be known as “Fairbeard” than by his father’s name.
Most of the morning was spent dealing with Cinvar’s supposed grievances, including allegations that we had mistreated his mother at Caer Gloran. It was not until late in the afternoon that Arling made his claims.
“As for Caer Tanaga, I claim it by right of conquest,” he said. “I am Sweyn’s heir and so High King of the Jarnish Eastlands of Tanagiri. I will rule the Jarnish kings and keep them in order under our own law.”
Cinon and Flavien, and Cinvar too, the idiots, all raised their chins affirmatively at this, as if this was what they wanted. This must be how they had justified their alliance, of course. I could hardly believe it. I could feel anger rising up, almost enough to choke me.
“The Jarnsmen will be ruled by their own king in their own place,” Cinon said. “And the only time we will need to speak to them will be when there are border disputes.”
Arling smiled wolfishly, and I could imagine what sort of speaking and border disputes he was imagining. It was hard to believe anyone could be so stupid. They thought Arling would keep the Jarns out of their lands and didn’t care about the law in any others. I tried counting slowly, backward, in Jarnish. I put my hands together in my lap and set my tongue firmly between my teeth so I would not forget and say what I was thinking.
“Bereich denies your overlordship,” Ohtar said, rapidly and emphatically, as Arling was drawing breath to say more. “Bereich recognizes Urdo ap Avren as High King of Tir Tanagiri and says that we all live under the King’s Peace and the King’s Law, Jarn and Tanagan alike.”
“If you will accept Arling as your overlord and your son’s son here as your heir, Bereich will not be pressed hard,” Flavien said smoothly, making a gesture toward Walbern, who smiled and crossed his arms across his chest.
Ohtar raised his head, and the bearskin cloak he always wore moved with his shoulders almost as if he were a real bear. “For thirty years,” he said mildly, “you have denied me so much as sight of my son’s son. Now you present me with a Tinalan stranger dressed in the shadow of my banner and expect me to give up my loyalty to my land and to the High King?” He drew a deep breath, and raised his voice a little. “The very hills of Bereich would rise up against me if I were such a fool. If you want my kingdom you will have to fight me for it, the same as ever you have needed to, and your father before you. My daughter’s son stands ready to defend it after me.” His eyes moved to Walbern, who was looking puzzled. “As for you, Walbern Aldredsson, it is too late for you to be my heir. But if you choose to come to Dun Peldir without your uncle’s armies, it is not too late for you to find a welcome.”
Walbern looked at Ohtar, openmouthed, and then at Flavien, hesitating. Before he could speak, Morthu stepped in.
“Would that be a proper Jarnish welcome, with a sword, or a Tanagan welcome, with poison?” he asked, and laughed, and Cinon and Cinvar laughed with him, and the rest of them laughed one by one, until all that side of the table were laughing, except Ayl and Angas. My hands were trembling with suppressed rage. Aurien was the only one who had tried to poison anyone, and Tanagan or not, she had been their ally. Violation of hospitality should never be something to laugh about. I was shocked to see Cinvar, who had eaten in my mother’s hall, laughing at that.
“We were talking about just that difference in the laws,” Arling said, with laughter still in the lines of his face. “My uncle Sweyn—”
“Sweyn never claimed what you say you inherited,” Ulf interrupted fiercely. “Sweyn was king of Jarnholme by right of birth and by right of acclamation by the assembly of fighting men. He went through the ceremonies of kingship. He left Jarnholme and came here and tried to take this whole land by force, and by blood sacrifice, and he failed, failed utterly. Sweyn was buried with his fallen defenders, on the field of Foreth, which you fled. He did not even win so much as a man’s width of the earth of Tir Tanagiri to himself. But he died honorably, as befits a man of the house of Gewis, trying to win himself a wider kingdom. He never claimed any such title or any such overlordship as you claim to have inherited from him. You blacken his name by saying so.” I wanted to cheer.
“Blacken his name, brother?” Arling asked, leaning back. “Why should I listen to a traitor telling me so?”
“Oh, go back to Jarnholme and be content,” Ulf said. “Aunt Hulda will die one day and let you rule for yourself; you need not cheat and lie your way to someone else’s kingdom to do so. To what do you say am I traitor? To you as self-appointed king of all Jarnsmen everywhere? It is no treachery to be in the losing side of a battle. Sweyn was dead, which takes back all oaths I made to him. I made my peace with the High King, I swore to serve him, and I have.”
Cynrig raised his chin. “I too. And I have prospered in Urdo’s service, and will marry a Tanagan girl of rank at Midwinter.” I kept my eyes straight ahead. I had been told about his betrothal already. I suppose decurio is a rank, and she was serving as key-keeper, but that was not what was normally meant. Bradwen’s parents were farmers in Derwen. Arling locked eyes with Ulf and ignored Cynrig.
“Will you still claim dominion over all Jarnsmen?” Urdo asked. I happened to catch Ayl’s eye, and he squirmed. Then he looked away and set his jaw.
“Yes,” Arling said. “Even of these traitors.” He sounded as if he meant it absolutely.
“Now that you see they are not hostages, we could speak of ransoming the queen,” Darien said. It was the first time he had spoken for hours, and everyone turned to look at him. The blood rose in his cheeks, but he did not look away from Arling.
“What ransom would you give for her?” Arling asked.
“Yes, what are you prepared to give to get her back?” Morthu echoed.
It was a difficult question. With Caer Tanaga Arling had captured the greater part of our treasure. “Safe passage for you and your people back to Jarnholme, with what coin you have gained of this expedition, and peace between us thereafter,” Darien said.
Arling laughed. “That I could have already, boy, if I wished it,” he said. My hands twitched, sorry my sword was set down outside the bounds of the herald-peace. He turned to Urdo. “Acknowledge me king of the Jarnish Eastlands, and I will return both your queen and your city.”
It was so quiet that I could tell that Ohtar was holding his breath.
“You set a high price on one woman, to think you could have what otherwise you would have to fight a war to gain,” Urdo said. Ohtar exhaled, audibly.
“One woman?” Morthu said, and looked at me insolently.
“Yes, we have heard you have another, but the queen is prettier,” Arling said. I gritted my teeth. Darien gripped the table in both hands, so hard that his knuckles whitened.
Urdo, amazingly, laughed. “Talk about things you understand,” he said. “Arling Gunnarsson, I will offer you gold for the queen’s release. How much would you have? In the old laws of Jarnholme the price is half that of a king, the same as for a huscarl. Will you take four panniers’ worth of gold?
”
“I will consider it,” Arling said.
“It is time,” Father Cinwil said. We all rose and bowed.
“A word, brother,” Ulf said, in Jarnish, as we left the shade of the awning. “A word here, outside the peace-holy place.” Arling hesitated, and turned and came toward Ulf. We all waited, standing in two uneasily wavering lines.
“Yes?” Arling asked. Now they were standing, everyone could see that Ulf was a hand taller than his brother.
“You will not go back to Jarnholme?”
“No. Will you give up this foreign king and come and serve me?”
“Never, so long as you are a fool,” Ulf said, and the contempt was clear in his words. “Will you persist in this breaking of the Peace, this taking guidance from the sorcerer?”
Arling glanced at Morthu. “He is no sorcerer but a holy man,” he said, touching his pebble. “And what should I care for your Peace?”
“You should be king enough to care,” Ulf said, turning the armring he wore with his fingers. “This is our grandfather’s armring. I am your brother still, your older brother, and though I cannot be king, I am still head of the family.”
“For what that is worth to a childless man who limps,” Arling agreed, cautiously.
“By the blood we share,” Ulf said, facing Arling and raising his hands, palm up, so that his arms were spread wide. Behind me somewhere, Ohtar made a noise, and the late light of the sun caught and burned on the great gold armring of the House of the Kings of the Jarns, bright enough to make my eyes water.
Ulf’s voice was strong, and very clear. “By my death, I curse you; by the shades of the fallen, I curse you; by the graves of our fathers, I curse you; the cold hand grasps you strong—never shall you lead to victory, never shall you rest hallowed, never shall your line survive. Thurr smite you; Frith wither you; Fritha spurn you; Uller hunt you; Freca blind you; Noth drown you; Tew slay you; Hel rot you; Fury rend you; Doom find you.”