Roger Taylor - The fall of Fyorlund

Urssain seemed disconcerted by the news that Dan-Tor had not received Aelang’s message and, for a moment, his face showed his uncertainty. Then, unexpectedly, he leaned forward in his saddle radiating arrogance. ‘It’s unfortunate that neither we nor our messenger met the Lord Dan-Tor, though it’s under-standable enough in this benighted country. However, it changes nothing and, in answer to your question, we’re here on the King’s orders to arrest you. I must therefore ask you to surrender your sword immediately.’

The suddenness of this reply as much as its content made Jaldaric jerk back in his saddle and for a moment he seemed almost inclined to laugh. It was anger, however, that dominated his reply.

‘Captain Urssain,’ he said. ‘Even a child knows that the King can have no High Guard.’ He paused, and his eyes narrowed. ‘I have no idea from where you come, or what I’m supposed to make of your rambling-nor have I any intention of wasting my time trying to find out-but your very presence here constitutes a considerable offence in itself, and it’s not I who will be surrendering to you, but you to me.’

He made a discreet gesture and his patrol quietly spread itself across the road. Urssain watched the manoeuvre with disdain.

‘A larger patrol is close behind us, Jaldaric,’ he said. ‘Our various messages may have gone astray but I can at least give you the opportunity of surrendering with dignity. If you offer me violence while I’m on the King’s business then it’ll go much worse for you.’

Jaldaric ignored the comment, but his jaw stiffened. ‘Enough, Urssain,’ he said angrily. ‘Your sword.’

Urssain made no move. ‘Jaldaric,’ he said, almost conciliatory in tone. ‘Understand. We are the King’s High Guard, whatever you might think about it. We were formed in secret because of the treachery of some of the Lords. You’re to be arrested at the King’s express command, because your father, the Lord Eldric, was at its heart. He and his co-conspirators are now in prison in Vakloss awaiting trial.’

Jaldaric put his hand to his head. ‘This is nonsense,’ he said uncertainly.

Hawklan looked round at the faces of Jaldaric’s patrol. Esselt’s eyes were gleaming, as were those of his friends, but all the others seemed to be as shocked and disorientated as their Captain.

Jaldaric shook his head as if to waken himself. ‘No,’ he said. ‘This isn’t nonsense. It’s madness. My father’s no traitor. With whom would he conspire and for what? He’s an old man and a respected member of the Geadrol.’

‘The Geadrol was a sink of conspiracy. It no longer exists. The King has suspended it,’ said Urssain contemptuously.

A babble of voices broke out at this, and Jaldaric’s patrol surged forward almost involuntarily to gather around their leader. Esselt and his friends, however, though also surprised, stayed aloof and watchful. Isloman indicated their response to Hawklan with his eyes, and Hawklan acknowledged with a slight nod.

Jaldaric called out for silence. ‘I can make nothing of this. The King cannot have High Guards. The Geadrol cannot be suspended. And how can I be arrested without charge or authority? What crimes have I committed?’

‘The King can do all things,’ came Urssain’s reply, ‘and this uniform is authority enough for your arrest. I’m just a Captain obeying orders. I know nothing about your crimes except those you’re committing just by arguing with me. I’ve told you once, surrender now or it’ll go much worse for you later.’

For a moment Jaldaric seemed inclined to draw his sword and lay about him, but other counsels prevailed and when he spoke his voice was hard and coldly purposeful.

‘The longer we stay away from Fyorlund, the more strange questions accumulate for answering. I’m about to continue my journey to Vakloss, Urssain, together with my guests from Orthlund.’ He indicated Hawklan and Isloman. ‘You’ll accompany us, either peacefully or bound, that choice is yours. When we’re there we’ll all stand before the Geadrol and, if necessary, the King himself, and you can spin your babbling fancies to your heart’s content.’

Urssain cast a quick glance at the two Orthlundyn, then turned away with an insolent shrug. ‘As you wish. The rest of my patrol is nearby. I’ll complete my orders when they arrive.’

Jaldaric’s eyes blazed momentarily, but he walked his horse forward quietly until he was by the side of the black-liveried Captain. Then, turning swiftly, he drew his sword and placed the point against Urssain’s throat.

‘Listen carefully, Urssain,’ he said very softly, ‘who-ever you are, and whoever’s bidding you’re doing. You wear a livery unknown to us, you defame the King, you bring arms into Orthlund, then you threaten us, the Lord Dan-Tor’s personal escort, and finally you defame both my father and myself. As far as I’m concerned you’re just a criminal. I’ve no doubt you’ve got friends lurking in ambush somewhere along the road, but be under no illusions as to who’ll die first if we’re offered violence by anyone.’

Urssain looked uneasily down the length of Jalda-ric’s sword, and then at the bows the Guards were carrying. His arrogance faltered. Jaldaric smiled grimly.

‘We’ll dispense with the formalities,’ Jaldaric con-cluded grimly. ‘You may keep your sword, for what good it’ll do you. I guarantee you’ll have no time to draw it.’

Then, without apparent instructions, Jaldaric’s pa-trol moved forward and surrounded Urssain’s group. Jaldaric rode across to Hawklan and Isloman.

‘I don’t know what’s happening,’ he said, his round face incongruously furrowed. ‘Either these people are quite insane or something terrible’s happened at home while we’ve been away.’

Hawklan looked at him without replying.

‘I fear it’s probably the latter,’ continued Jaldaric. ‘I can’t see six men coming against fifteen of us with that attitude without some resource behind them. We need to get back quickly.’

‘I agree with you,’ said Hawklan. ‘But take care. Whatever’s happened in Fyorlund, that man expected his livery alone to command absolute obedience.’

Worry clouded Jaldaric’s face. ‘Still,’ he said, ‘it’s none of your affair. I can only recommend you head back for home. It looks as if I may not even be able to escort you as far as the border safely, let alone Vakloss. I’m sorry.’

Hawklan stretched his legs lazily and nodded. ‘Thank you for your advice, Jaldaric,’ he said. ‘It’s sound. But Isloman and I are very anxious to speak to your Lord Dan-Tor and we’ll be heading for Vakloss no matter what happens. For what it’s worth I suspect our questions and whatever political upheavals have been occurring may well be related.’

Jaldaric shrugged and let out a resigned breath. ‘If we run into trouble I’ll try and talk us through it, but if it comes to a fight I may not be able to protect you,’ he said.

Hawklan smiled reassuringly and laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘We understand,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll make our own judgement about when and who to fight. You look to yourself and your men.’ He laughed gently. ‘We absolve you from your duties as host.’

Jaldaric smiled unhappily but could find no reply. Shrugging his shoulders nervously again he turned back to his men. Hawklan signalled to Gavor who was listening in a nearby tree, and the bird took off silently towards the north. Echoing this action, Jaldaric sent two men out into the adjacent fields to scout the road ahead. The remainder of the patrol restarted their leisurely progress.

‘You’re getting very bold, healer,’ said Isloman anx-iously, riding alongside Hawklan. ‘Smiling and joking in the face of a possible battle against Fyorlund High Guards.’