The King's Name
“If he isn’t a king or a great captain then he shouldn’t be flying one at all,” Thurrig growled, glancing up complacently at the red ship on blue that had been his own banner for fifty years.
While we were talking the ship had been creeping closer and closer, so that the city was all around us and we were almost at the wharf already. We were too close now for the war machines on the walls to reach down to us. The troops were all under the canvas awnings, ready but not visible.
I turned to Garah. She was smiling at me in a resigned sort of way. “Yes, I really am sure I want to go through the tunnels,” she said, before I could speak. “Yes, I know the dangers. Morthu may have found out how I escaped and be expecting me. Yes, I have a sharp dagger. No, you can’t come, you’re too tall, and you’re needed out here.”
I sighed. “Am I really that predictable?”
Garah and Thurrig both laughed. “You might have been about to say that you wish you had just one horse with you,” Thurrig put in. It had been a long trip.
The landing was almost easy. We had not been able to tell what degree of opposition we might meet. The important thing was to have all three ships at the wharf, if we could, so that we could have all our forces ready. We had discussed such things as leaping across from one deck to another if necessary. As it happened there was no need. There were a score or so of Arling’s soldiers on the quayside. One of them hailed us in Jarnish as soon as we were near enough.
“Who comes to Caer Tanaga?”
“The Admiral Thurrig, at his wife’s invitation, come to help some of you get back to where you belong.”
“Can’t be soon enough for me,” the Jarnsman said.
Thurrig laughed, his hand twitching on his ax. They kept up a constant banter, all of it double-edged, as we came in. One of our sailors threw a rope and a man on the wharf caught it. He was one of the usual dockworkers of Caer Tanaga; I had seen him often enough when I had come down to cross the river into Aylsfa. He knew me, too, of course. When his eyes met mine they went wide. I put my finger to my lips, but it was too late. He let out a great whoop and leapt on the Jarnish soldier who had been talking to us. The other workers saw what he was doing and hesitated. I stood up on the side of the ship, almost overbalancing, and gave a battle cry. Before we were even off the ship there was nobody in sight to oppose us.
We disembarked as rapidly as we could. Garah rushed off straight away to try and open the citadel gates. As we were forming up, crowds of townsfolk came pressing around us, telling us how delighted they were to see us. When they heard that the alae were coming, some of them rushed off to open the town gate. An old fat priest who had a church near the wharf embraced me as kin and actually wept for joy at the sight of me. More and more people poured out of their houses, roused by the cheers. Caer Tanaga had suffered under the invader, and now that we had come to lead them, the people were more than ready to fight. They didn’t really need us, they just needed to believe they could win. They came armed with whatever was to hand: wooden clubs, old rusty infantry swords, spades, pitchforks, kitchen knives. I don’t think there was an occupying soldier alive in the lower town in half an hour. As we went up through the streets toward the citadel the little company Thurrig and I had brought swelled to become a great mob.
As we went on I heard hoofbeats on the cobbled road behind me. It sounded like a messenger, so I called a halt. The disciplined troops halted, and the mob surged and seethed around us. They let the horseman through. It was one of the grooms from the stables. He was riding Urdo’s mare Prancer, who Urdo had left here when he rode away to war.
“What news?” I asked the groom.
“Where is the king, ap Gwien?” he asked.
“Urdo is wounded in the battle, and very near to death,” I said, though the words stuck in my throat. “Darien, his heir, is High King of Tir Tanagiri.”
The mob gasped, and the gasp spread out in ripples as people behind told each other what I had said.
“They told me the king had come back,” the groom said, looking as if I had struck him in the face. “They came down to open the gates and they said that he had come on a boat. I thought he would need his horse.”
Prancer put her dark head down to nuzzle my shoulder. She was in wonderful condition, though she was twenty years old and had borne seven foals. She had carried Urdo in the charge at Foreth and seemed ready to do it again at a moment’s notice. I stroked her nose. She was caparisoned in all her finest armor.
“He isn’t coming back and he won’t need his horse,” Thurrig said. “But ap Gwien will ride, and the rest of us will all walk. We need to free this city in Urdo’s name.”
This seemed very harsh to me, but the crowd gave a great roar. It was on a different pitch from the cheering they had done before; now there was anger in it. The groom slid down and gave me Prancer’s reins. I swung up onto her back and set my spear straight. Then I was doing my best to keep her from trampling anyone underfoot as we all surged forward again.
I hesitate to call what happened a battle, or even a skirmish. There was a gate before the great gate, which we called the sally gate. It led from the street into a practice yard and was most inconvenient if you actually wanted to be anywhere else, so we seldom used it. It was always kept closed. I had considered going in that way and dismissed it almost at once. It was just too difficult to get open, and too easy to defend inside. Cinon was directing the defense of Caer Tanaga, and he thought otherwise. He must have massed as many troops in the practice yard as he could, both his own militia and some of Arling’s Jarnsmen. As we came up to it, the sally gate opened and the troops rushed out, well armed and armored, fresh and ready to fight. There might have been a thousand of them, but they could not use their numbers in the street. The people of Caer Tanaga fell on them as a pack of starving wolves falls on a lame deer.
I saw two women with kitchen knives take down a Jarnish warrior a head and a half taller than either of them. After that one of them had a spear and the other his long knife and shield. That was the pattern of the whole fight. It was brief and very bloody. Prancer snorted with excitement, just as Apple used to do. She was too well trained to try to charge where there wasn’t room, but she took out one man with her hooves. I killed a man of Nene and saw King Cinon being hacked into pieces in front of me. One of the people hacking was a cobbler I recognized. “There isn’t time for that! He’s dead already!” I bellowed. To my relief they dropped the corpse and looked about them for more live enemies.
As I did the same, I noticed that they were trying to drag the sally gate closed again. I shouted orders and my disciplined core of troops rushed to oppose them and keep the gate open.
When the fighting appeared to be over for the time being, Thurrig strode over to me. He was splashed with blood, but none of it was his own. He did seem a little out of breath. “Shall we go in this way?” he asked. “I know it is inferior to the great gate, but it is at least open.”
“I doubt we could stop them,” I said, leaning down and speaking quietly and gesturing to indicate the mob. “You lead the troops in with them. As I’m the only one mounted, I’ll ride up and see if ap Gavan has managed to open the great gate. She should be there by now.”
“When you know, come and tell the rest of us, eh?” Thurrig said. He blew a huff of breath up out of his mouth as if to cool his face. Prancer stepped back, delicately.
“Remember we want to take Morthu alive if we possibly can,” I said.
“I don’t know if I can restrain them,” he said. “But I’ll bear it in mind.”
“Back soon,” I said, and turned Prancer’s head uphill.
I heard Thurrig shouting orders and the crowd roaring behind me as I left. I rode around the curve of the hill. It looked very empty without the usual rash of stalls outside the houses. It seemed eerily deserted, after the press of people lower down. It reminded me of the first time I saw Caer Lind. I could see almost straightaway that the great gate was shut, and slowed Prancer’s pace. The
re was someone standing on top of the gate. I had stood there myself on many a patrol. It was part of the circuit of the walls. There was a stairway there running down into the citadel. What was strange was that it looked like Elenn. I rode closer, cautiously.
Elenn was standing in the middle of the gate, right over the arch, leaning on the parapet, which was waist-high there. She was perhaps twice my height above my head. The gate below was tightly shut. I remembered her standing down in the gateway years before, with the gold welcome cup in her hands. Now her hair was loose and tangled and her eyes were red-rimmed. She was wearing an undyed linen shift with no overdress. She looked down at me with a hatred I did not know how to answer.
“Elenn,” I said.
“What do you think you are doing using my name?” she asked. At once I recognized in her the madness of self-hatred and despair that Morthu had set upon me in the wood. I could draw her out of it as Gangrader had done for me by turning the hate outward, away from herself. Knowing this didn’t help me know what to say.
“I have done nothing to harm you,” I said.
“And did you not have my husband take a husband’s place to you before all the world at Derwen?” she asked. “And did you not share his bed at Caer Gloran? And did you not bear him a son?”
“My mother embraced Urdo as kin at Derwen, that’s all,” I said. “My son Darien was born three years before you married Urdo. And will you not believe his word that since you were married he has lain with no mortal woman else?”
Her brow creased a little at this, as if she were thinking it through and finding a thin thread through the maze of lies.
Then Morthu stepped from the shelter of the stairs. He was dragging Garah in front of him, holding her like a shield. He had one hand around her waist to force her to move and the other around her throat, and a knife in that hand. He could kill her before I could kill him, no matter what I did. “You are no mortal woman, but a demon. Everyone knows it,” he said.
I was so angry I could have ripped his throat out with my teeth if he had been close enough. “Unhand the queen of Bregheda,” I said. I was surprised to hear my voice sounding perfectly calm. “And then, Morthu ap Talorgen, we can talk about whose soul is given to evil, though I think you would prefer to discuss how to stop the people of Caer Tanaga tearing you limb from limb.”
“Do you say so?” he asked, stepping nearer to the edge, still holding Garah in front of him. She looked irritated and almost resigned.
“They have already done it to Cinon ap Cinon of Nene,” I said. “They are inside the citadel already.”
At this Elenn started, but Morthu smiled mockingly down at me. “And if you have brought an army, why are you not with them?” he asked. “Why have you come here alone with only your groom—” Here he jerked Garah’s head. “—and your horse and your lapdog?”
“I am no dog of ap Gwien’s, but hunt on my own accord,” said Ulf from behind me. I did not turn to look at him, though I had had no idea he had followed me. Elenn frowned and rubbed her forehead as if it hurt, then she leaned forward and looked at Ulf earnestly.
“Does my husband live?” she asked.
“He is near death,” Ulf replied, stepping forward as he spoke so he was between me and the gate.
“Let the dog bark,” Morthu said carelessly. But Elenn looked as if she believed what Ulf said. “What have you come to offer me, Sulien? If you have troops they will never think to come here until I will it.”
“I will not offer you anything at all until you release the queen of Bregheda,” I said.
“But then you will kill me with the treacherous spear you clutch so tightly,” Morthu said. He tightened his grip on Garah’s throat so that she winced, and closed her eyes for a moment. Elenn also winced when she saw it.
I had hardly noticed that the spear was in my hand. I looked at it, and then up at him and I laughed. Elenn started again when I laughed, and looked at me in astonishment and then back at Morthu. “This spear is too good for your blood,” I said. As far as I could tell, he looked surprised. “I come to offer you a fair trial before the Law,” I said.
“Before the High King?” he asked.
“Yes, of course,” I replied.
“And when I am acquitted will I be free to sail to Narlahena, or where I would?”
“If you were innocent, you would be,” I said.
It was then that Elenn moved. I think Morthu must have read it in my face, because he could not have seen her himself. She drew a thin dagger from her sleeve and stepped deliberately toward him. She was aiming for the side of his neck, but as she struck he took a step back.
“Oh no, my love,” he said, softly and caressingly. Their eyes met. For a moment Elenn’s arm remained poised with the dagger. It fell very slowly, like bark peeling back off a tree. The terrible thing was that I could do nothing. I could hardly breathe until it was at her side. Then I tried to speak, and could not, my voice caught in my throat. Morthu did not relax his gaze. “What are you doing?” he said, very gently. “Who has bewitched you so that you attack me, your own true love?”
Just as slowly as her dagger hand had fallen, her left hand rose and touched Morthu’s face. Elenn moved forward a step, her face held as if for a kiss. The stillness as she moved was excruciating. I was caught up in the spell, unable to interrupt, unable to move away. I didn’t want to kill Morthu, I wanted him to stand trial, but I would have killed him then if I could. I brought up the spear. The only reason I did not throw it was because there was no clear shot that would not have chanced killing either Garah or Elenn.
When Elenn’s lips had almost met Morthu’s, Ulf let out a great wordless howl. He was so pale that his lips looked like blood on his skin, and his nose was paler even than that. His nostrils were flaring like a horse that has run to the edge of strength. His shout broke the spell for a moment, and Elenn brought forward the dagger; and her hand trembled as Morthu began to will it down again.
Then Ulf rushed forward, his mouth open as if he wanted to howl again, but no sound came out. He crashed into the gates with all his strength, and shook the wood a little in the stone gateway. Prancer took two steps back and shook herself. Ulf slopped back and slammed himself into the gates again. Morthu was still staring at Elenn and her hand was wavering, the dagger poised as if she could not decide whether to plunge it into Morthu or into her own heart. He stepped nearer to her. Garah twisted in his arms, trying to free herself as he moved. In the same instant, Ulf flung himself on the doors a third time. This time he spoke, calling on Gangrader in a deep and terrible voice. Garah struggled and twisted half away from Morthu’s knife.
In that moment I was poised, spear ready. I was free to move now, free to do whatever seemed best. It seemed as if I had plenty of time to think and consider whether I should risk the shot. If I did, I could probably kill Morthu. That, I knew, would have consequences far beyond those I could see. I could have done it then in that clear moment. I drew my arm back and aimed carefully, then threw, with all my heart and strength. The spear the Smith made and gave to me struck true where I had sent it, right in the keystone of the gateway arch beneath their feet.
The spear struck with a great booming sound. Prancer reared and then backed. She probably wouldn’t have done it if I’d been Urdo, but though she knew me she didn’t trust me enough to sit quietly for a noise like that. It only took me a moment to bring her back under control, but that was too long. The stones of the gate were falling, ponderously, collapsing like a child’s set of blocks that has been built crooked. They hung for a moment and then came down with a series of great crashes, sending up dust that hung in clouds before it settled. For a few minutes I couldn’t see any of the people I had been looking at before the wall fell, only a heap of stones and the dust, rising and falling again. Then I saw Elenn, sitting on a block at the side of the pile of crumpled stone that had been a gate. The white of her dress was stained with stone dust, but she seemed unhurt. She had her dagger in her hands and she was tu
rning it over and over.
I nudged Prancer closer. “Are you all right?” I asked, as if this were some ordinary accident and we were friends.
“Ulf Gunnarsson broke my fall,” she said, and gestured. Then I saw Ulf, crumpled on the ground near her. His leg, the one I had lamed, was caught beneath one of the great stones and crushed. His arms were outspread. He must have caught her and thrust her aside but been crushed in doing it. I dismounted and bent over him. His eyes were open.
“Ah, come to claim me at last,” he said, so quietly I could hardly hear him. It clearly hurt him to talk. “Kill me quickly, Sulien.”
“Don’t be a fool,” I said. “You’ll lose the leg for sure, but you’ll probably live.”
“My back is broken, and something inside,” he said.
“Even that doesn’t mean you’re dying,” I said.
“Gangrader brought down the gate,” Ulf said, and smiled. There was blood coming out of the corner of his mouth. Then, in Jarnish, and even more quietly, almost confidentially, he said, “I should have been a carpenter, if I had been born to any other house. It was what I wanted, and where my skill lay, we all knew it. Even as it was, I would have gone to learn woodworking and let Arling have it all, if he had been worthy. The year my mother died, I was seventeen. I was a fool. I bound myself to the Raven Lord, hardly thinking. I sailed with Ragnald to learn the art of war. I wronged you then, and broke my own luck doing it. But he has kept his promise, all his twisted promises, and now he came when I called.
I couldn’t bear to tell him it was the spear that had brought down the gate. “I’m sure he will come and speak for you, and help you make a good return,” I said. “Do you want me to get Elenn? She’s here. You saved her.”
“Did you ever believe that?” he asked. “Surely if you had you would never have fought Conal. I am glad she is safe, and I am very sorry about ap Gavan.”