Stephen Lawhead - The Paradise War

Had I known what Tegid was contemplating, I wouldhave prevented him-and I was not the only one. For, as I took my place at the king's right hand, I chanced to see Paladyr standing aloof, clearly furious at the staggering insult that had been paid him. Nor did I blame him. For Paladyr had been deposed as champion without being given the chance to defend his exalted position; he was disgraced before his kinsmen and swordbrothers. A greater humiliation could not have been contrived for him.

Other gifts were given out-brooches and gemstones and armbands of silver and gold. Other names were lauded, other deeds acclaimed. I saw little of it, and heard less. My mind whirled, desperately trying to discover a way to dissuade Paladyr from challenging me to single combat in an attempt at reclaiming his position. He would move heaven and earth to restore his honor-it was worth his life and more. A warrior without honor suffered shame worse than death. Indeed, I entertained no hope at all that he would ignore the slight: his pride was greater than the king's, and Meldryn Mawr's held all Albion in its sway.

So I stood beside the king-in Paladyr's place-frantically searching for a way to disentangle myself from this grim, and likely fatal, predicament. I looked over the throng in the ball, hoping to catch fresh sight of the king's former champion; but I could not see him. Still, I imagined I could feel his seething wrath-like a bonfire fanned by a gale, burning wild, out of control.

When the last warrior had been summoned and the last gift given, King Meldryn ordered the celebration to continue. The instant I saw my chance, I grabbed Tegid by the arm. «Why have you done this to me?»

«I did nothing,» he told me flatly. «It is the king's privilege to choose a new champion and to name him. He has done so. And I find no fault in the choice.»

«Paladyr will kill me! He will have my head on his spear. You must speak to the king.»

«This is a supreme honor. It is your right; you have earned it.»

«I do not want it! Take it back!»

Tegid made a sour face. «I do not understand you, Liew.»

«I am not Llew!» I growled. «I want no part of it! Do you understand?»

«It is too late,» he said glancing away.

«Why?»

«Paladyr-he is coming.»

Striding toward us through the slowly dispersing crowd came Paladyr. He wore no expression, but his eyes were alive with anger. I braced myself and turned to meet him. He stopped before me, glowering. Before I could open my mouth to offer a word of conciliation, he placed a hand to my chest and shoved me aside. The people saw this and halted where they stood; no one moved, no one breathed. The hail grew instantly silent.

Paladyr continued to the foot of the king's throne and threw himself down before it. Meidryn Mawr gazed upon the prostrate man impassively. Tegid hurried to the king's side, and, after a quick consultation, said, «What do you seek by coming before your king in this way?»

The former champion remained face down before the throne; not a muscle twitched. The king whispered to Tegid, who nodded and addressed the prostrate warrior. «Rise, Paladyr,» the bard said. «If you have something to say, stand on your feet and speak it out.»

At this, Paladyr rose to stand before the king. He appeared humble, but not altogether humiliated, as he stretched forth his empty hands to the king. «What wrong do you lay on my head that I should be thrust aside in this way?»

«Do you suggest that your king has treated you unfairly?» Tegid asked.

«I demand to know why I have been cast aside,» he replied sullenly.

«It is not your place to demand, Paladyr,» the bard observed. «It is your place to obey. Nevertheless, the king is mindful of your loyal service, and for this reason he will answer you.»

«Answer, then,» Paladyr said, barely containing himself. «But I would hear it from the king's mouth-not yours, bard.»

Meidryn Mawr inclined his head towards Tegid, who bent to hear him, then straightened and said, «By reason of the king's geas, this cannot be. But hear the king's word and receive it, if you will. Thus says your king: those who serve me must remain true to me, and to me alone. You, Paladyr, were first in loyalty. So long as your fealty remained true, you were champion to the king. But you put your loyalty aside when you chose to follow Prince Meldron. Therefore, I have put you aside.» Tegid paused. «Your king has spoken.»

These words seemed to have great effect on the man. Instantly, he appeared humble and contrite. «This rebuke is hard, 0 King,» he said. «But I accept your judgment; only allow me to swear again the oath of fealty, and pledge again my loyalty.»

King Meidryn nodded slowly, and Paladyr stepped forward, his head low, his arms limp. He sank to his knees before the throne and fell upon the king in a great show of repentance and remorse. He placed his head against the king's chest, and cried out in a loud voice, «Forgive me, 0 King!»

Meldryn Mawr raised his hand and seemed about to speak. But the hand faltered and fell away; the king closed his mouth and bowed his head over his once-esteemed champion. It was a most affecting display, touching all who looked on.

After a moment, Tegid said, «Paladyr, speak again the oath of fealty.» And he began to recite the words which the former champion was to say.

But Paladyr did not answer. He did not even wait for Tegid to finish. Instead, he rose to his feet, stood over the king for a moment, and then turned his back on the throne. All eyes watched him as the former champion hastened from the hall.

The chorus of murmured astonishment which followed Paladyr's baffling behavior quickly turned to cries of shock and disbelief when someone shouted, «Murder! The king is slain!»

The words were sharp as knives. Like everyone else, I had been watching Paladyr. At the first cry of murder, I whirled back to see Meidryn Mawr still sitting on his throne, head bowed forward, hands in his lap. He appeared in the same attitude as a moment before. He had not moved.

And then I saw it: Paladyr's knife jutting out of the middle of Meidryn's chest, just below the breastbone. Blood, spreading in a brilliant crimson bloom, seeped slowly from the wound. The king was dead.

For the space of three heartbeats, the hail held its breath in a horrified hush. Then everything happened at once.

Tegid shouted, «Stop him! Seize him!»

The crowd surged towards the throne. Someone screamed.

In the crush, I fought to join Tegid. More screams. Cries of outrage. Panic. The door to the hail slammed shut. The sound echoed like thunder. Warriors shouted confused orders. The air shimmered with the ring of drawn weapons.

Prince Meldron materialized from nowhere, holding up his hands and loudly proclaiming, «Peace! Peace! Do not be afraid! I am here! Your king is here!»

And there was Siawn Hy-standing beside the prince, brandishing an upraised sword, as if he would protect his lord from attack. Attack from whom? I wondered.

Fortunately, the sight of Meldron in control bad a reassuring effect. The panic and confusion subsided at once.

«Wolf Pack!» Meidron called, and the warriors of his elite warband pushed through the crowd at the foot of the throne.

«Ride after Paladyr. Hunt him down and bring him back.

But bring him to me alive. Do you hear? He is not to be harmed!»

The warriors, all except Siawn who stayed by the prince, pledged themselves to the task and hurried away. The prince turned to Tegid who was bending over the king's body. «He is dead?» the prince said, less a question than a statement of an obvious fact.

The bard straightened; his face, drained of color, appeared ashen and grim, and his voice trembled-but whether with sorrow or anger, or some other emotion, I could not tell.