David Gemmell - The Swords of Night and Day

Harad finished his meal. As he rose to take up his axe he saw Arin walking towards him. The boy’s right eye was swollen almost shut, and his face was heavily bruised.

‘My thanks to you, Harad,’ he said.

Harad wanted to tell him that he had fought well. He wanted to say something in a friendly fashion. But he didn’t know how. He merely nodded and moved away.

Balish the Overseer approached him. ‘You best watch your back, Harad,’ he said. ‘They are vengeful men.’

‘They’ll do nothing,’ said Harad. ‘Now let me work.’

Raising his axe he swung it smoothly, the blade slicing deeply into the tree trunk.

As the women made their way down the hillside, the plump Kerena moved alongside Charis. ‘Thank you for getting the brute involved,’ she said. ‘They would have hurt my Arin.’

Charis felt a stab of annoyance. She liked Kerena, but the girl was like so many of the others, judgemental. ‘Why do you have to call him that?’ she asked, struggling unsuccessfully to keep the irritation from her voice.

‘What? What did I say?’

‘You called Harad the brute .’

‘Oh, it was just a manner of speaking,’ answered Kerena brightly. ‘It’s what everyone calls him. That and Bonebreaker.’

‘I know that. What I don’t know is why.’

Kerena was surprised. ‘How can you not know? Last summer he broke a man’s back in the high country.’

‘His jaw,’ corrected Charis.

‘No, I definitely heard it was someone’s back. Arin’s sister’s husband told me. Anyway, even if it was a jaw that’s not the point. Harad is always getting into fights.’

‘Like today?’ countered Charis. T expect it will only increase his reputation as a brute. I wish I had not asked him to get involved.’

Kerena reddened, her expression hardening. ‘Oh, you really are too argumentative today, Charis. I was only trying to be pleasant, and to thank you for your help.’ With that she moved away, and began chatting brightly to one of the other women. As Charis walked on she saw both women glance back at her. She guessed what they were talking about.

Charis and the brute.

It seemed to Charis to be manifestly unfair. Anyone who took the time to study Harad would know that he was not the monster they feared. But they could not see. When they looked into his blue-grey eyes they saw them as cold and forbidding. Charis recognized the loneliness there. The others observed his immense strength and feared he would break their bones. She saw a man uncomfortable with that strength, and too shy to express his fears to them.

At the foot of the hill the wives moved off to their various homes and Charis wandered back to the palace with the other servants. They would return to the woods at dusk with more food for the itinerant workers. The timber men would be working here until the Feast in ten days’ time, and they needed feeding. They would receive wages and many of them would carry their coin into town and spend it on a night of revelry. Then, broke and happy, they would wander off seeking other work to keep them fed during the coming winter. Harad would not spend his money in such a way. He would hoard it, then buy supplies and carry them up to his mountain cabin. He would stay away from the settlements for as long as possible.

Charis sighed.

For the rest of the afternoon she worked with four other women in the palace kitchens, preparing the food for the evening meal. At one point she heard the rumble of a wagon outside and moved to the rear window. It was the wolf catcher, Rabil. In his caged wagon four timber wolves prowled behind the bars.

Charis watched the wagon draw up at the gated entrance to the lower levels. She shuddered, and touched her brow in the sign of the Blessed Priestess, Ustarte.

‘Charis!’

She turned to see the elderly head servant, Ensinar. Charis smiled. Ensinar was a sweet-natured old man, kind and accommodating, with a single vanity, which made the other servants smile. Though utterly bald on the crown of his head he had grown his grey hair long above the ears. The strands were then swept up and over the crown. Ensinar obviously thought this gave him the appearance of a man whose hair was merely thinning. The effect, however, was comical — especially if he was outside and a sudden gust of wind caused his hair to flap wildly. The old man approached Charis and gave a shy smile. ‘Have you served the lord’s guest yet?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Take him some food and a fresh jug of water. There is a side of honey-cured ham in the pantry. It is very fine. Cut some thick slices from that. Some fresh bread too. Today’s loaves are a little under baked, I feel. Still. . it should suffice.’ With a second shy smile Ensinar moved away.

Charis was nervous. All the servants knew about the stranger with the sapphire blue eyes. Mira and Calasia had been seduced by him, and Charis had scolded them both for boasting of their exploits. ‘It is unseemly to speak of such things in public,’ she said. The girls both laughed at her. ‘You won’t be laughing if Ensinar finds out. You’ll be dismissed.’

‘Nonsense,’ had snapped Mira, a slim, dark-haired girl. ‘We were told to make him happy. And he certainly made me happy,’ she concluded with a laugh. The other girls gathered round, begging for more detail. Charis had walked away, disgusted.

She had only seen the stranger from a distance, a handsome man, dark-haired, with a spider drawing upon his arm. One of the other servants said she had gone to his room and found him standing naked on the balcony, his limbs contorted, one leg around the other, his arms raised above his head, and similarly twisted. She said there was a painting on the man’s back, a large eagle with wings outspread.

‘Why would anyone have a painting on their back?’ the girl had asked Charis. ‘They could never see it, could they?’

Charis had no definitive answer. All she said was: ‘My brother tells me there are many strange customs Outside. He says there are people who paint their hair different colours, and others have ink marks stained into the skins of their faces, some blue, some red. Outsiders are not like us.’

‘Then I hope they don’t come here,’ said the girl. Charis agreed. Everything her brother told her about the Outside left her feeling uneasy. People lived in stockaded towns, and there were battles everywhere between Jiamad armies. The latest Temple Wars had been raging now for eighteen years. They had begun the year before she was born. Charis had no understanding of the reasons for the fighting — nor did she wish to acquire such knowledge.

Putting such thoughts from her mind she prepared a tray of food as Ensinar had instructed, with ham and bread, adding a dish of sugar-dried fruit. Placing a flagon of fresh water on the tray she carried it out of the kitchens, and up the two flights of stairs to the upper quarters. She hoped the mysterious stranger would be standing on the balcony as the girl had described. She was curious to see the painting on his back. In this she was disappointed. He was indeed on the balcony, but dressed in a loose-fitting shirt of pale blue satin, and leggings of tanned beige leather. He turned as she entered and she saw the brilliant blue of his eyes. A deeper shade than Harad’s, and even less welcoming. His expression warmed as he looked at her. This annoyed Charis. Always men reacted in the same fashion. It was as if they were admiring a fine horse or a cow. The good-looking ones were the worst. They seemed to think that merely being handsome was enough to woo a girl. Charis found them all insubstantial — especially when set against Harad.

This stranger was by far the most handsome man she had ever seen, and the fact only fuelled her irritation. She curtseyed and placed the tray on a nearby table.