David Gemmell - Knights of Dark Renown

‘That was yesterday, Lord Duke,’ said Lamfhada. ‘Now let the armour choose.’

‘What do you say, Manannan? Should I enter the cave?’

‘Why should my opinion make a difference?’

‘Because you are a Gabala Knight. Do you want me for a companion?’

‘No, my Lord. But I am only a man. The armour is imbued with magic and it will choose. Enter the cave.’

The Duke stroked his thin beard and looked at the cave mouth. Then he shrugged. ‘Very well, I will look. But build no hopes, my friends.’

Swiftly he walked into the darkness and approached the solitary suit of armour. It was cold inside the cave and he shivered. Two flickering torches lit the walls, and reflected flames danced upon the breastplate. As a child he had been enchanted by tales of the Gabala Knights, but his father had always dismissed them.

‘Fools,’ he would say. ‘Lite is too short to spend riding the country interfering in other men’s disputes. What does it matter if a peasant loses a farm, or wins one? Who will care a hundred years from now?’

The words seemed to echo inside the Duke’s mind. He remembered his father’s funeral; not one tear had been shed.

‘And who will cry for you, Roem?’ he asked himself, then shook his head. What did it matter? Tears for the dead were a waste of time. The question now was a simple one — did he stay and fight, or leave for Citbaeron? Across the sea, with no wealth, he would find few friends. He would be forced to seek service with other rebels, perhaps as a captain of the guard, or as a Sabreur for some petty tribal chieftain. And here? Here he would fight alongside peasants and outlaws, men with no breeding: men not fit to kiss his hand.

Yet, at least, here he had a chance to regain his position, to win back his father’s Duchy.

He sat on the cold stone floor staring up at the armour. What chance of victory did these rebels have — even with the Knights reborn? Realistically? Against Ahak’s legions, his lancers and his scouts? Little or none. So what was the real choice? Alive in Cithaeron or dead in the Gabala!

Alive? Penniless and without honour — that was not life.

So then, what else is there, Roem? You can either live out your span, despised by your fellows, or fight alongside men you despise.

He stood and walked to the armour, seeing his lean angular face reflected in the breastplate. ‘Put a cloak over your contempt, Roem,’ he whispered. ‘Stand alongside these men and win back your birthright. And then, when the battle is won, the peasants can be herded back into their place.’

He reached out and touched the armour.

Outside the cave in the village beyond, the victorious rebel army had arrived safely home. Women and children streamed to meet them. Manannan sat down on a boulder and watched as Elodan, Llaw, Errin and Ubadai rode up to the cave.

‘It is good to see you safe,’ Elodan greeted them, stepping from the saddle. ‘Did your mission go well?’

‘He is in the cave,’ said Manannan.

‘What of Cairbre?’

‘I killed him. Let us talk no more of it.’

‘Who is in the cave?’ asked Llaw. ‘What was this mission?’

Lamfhada moved in front of Llaw. ‘The Duke of Mactha,’ he said softly.

All colour fled from Llaw’s face. ‘What mockery is this? The whoreson sentenced me to death for a crime he knew I did not commit. He is a King’s man!’

‘No,’ said Manannan. ‘He was on trial for his life; the King was to have him executed.’

‘Which just shows that even a bad King cannot be wrong all the time. This is a mistake, but I will put it-to rights. Get out of my way,’ said Llaw, drawing his sword.

‘Put it down!’ Elodan commanded. ‘This instant!’

Llaw swung on him. ‘So? You patricians want to stick together, do you? Fine. What else should I have expected?’

‘You are wrong, Llaw,’ said Elodan softly. ‘I am the man you asked to lead your army. Your army. But I am also the Lord Knight of the New Gabala. If the armour chooses him, then he is with us. If not?’ He shrugged. ‘Then he is yours. Does that suit you?’

Llaw backed away. ‘If the armour chooses? Had I known he would be among us, I would never have agreed to wear it myself.’ Slamming his sword in its scabbard, he stalked to his horse, mounted and rode for the village.

‘Thank you, Elodan,’ said the Duke, stepping out into the open, his armour blazing in the sunlight.

‘Lord Duke,’ said Elodan, ‘welcome to the Order.’

‘I am the Duke no longer. My name is Roem,’ he said, holding out his hand. Elodan shook it. Errin removed his helm and strolled forward.

‘I see we have a fine cook,’ commented Roem. ‘We must be a force to be reckoned with.’

Arian found Llaw Gyffes high on the south meadow in a grove of beech trees overlooking the forest. He was sitting by a small fire, staring into the flames, and did not hear her approach. She sat beside him and reached out to touch him, but stopped. Encased as he was in his armour, there was no point.

‘Llaw?’ she whispered but he did not turn his head. ‘Come, Llaw, speak to me.’

‘There is nothing to say. I am lost, Arian… lost.’ She moved closer to him.

‘No, you are not! You are Llaw Gyffes, the strongest man I have ever known. How can you be so downhearted? You have triumphed over your enemies and your army grows by the day.’

He shook his head. ‘None of it matters. My life was destroyed when Lydia died. And now I too must die — just as the Dagda said. And you know what will happen then? Nothing. If the King should prove victorious, the world will go on as before. If we should defeat him, then the Duke of Mactha — or someone like him — will rule and the world will go on as before. We change nothing by what we do.’

‘What were you expecting, Llaw? Back in the village, there are people who would now be dead but for you and Elodan, and the others. At Groundsel’s settlement there are Nomads who would have frozen to death but for you and Groundsel and Nuada. Ask them if you made a difference. Take your eyes from the stars, Llaw. Look to the earth.’

She rose to kneel by his side, her fingers pulling at the leather straps of his breastplate. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

‘Get out of this metal,’ she ordered. ‘Put it aside. Then we will walk for a while in the mountains and you will feel the air on your skin.’ He helped her, laid the armour beside the fire and stood. She moved to him and ran her hands along his arms.

‘I am tired of waiting for you,’ she said. ‘And don’t tell me you are not ready; I am sick of it. You are a man — so stop running from the past and fearing the future. All we have is the Now. All we will ever have is the Now.’

‘Does it not frighten you that I must die soon?’

‘Yes, it terrifies me,’ she told him. ‘But it will be the worse for me if you should be gone having never loved me.’

His arms circled her. ‘I love you,’ he said simply. ‘You are never far from my thoughts.’

She drew him down beside the fire and kissed him, but he groaned and weakly pulled away.

‘Forget the stars, Llaw,’ she whispered. ‘Forget the stars.’

Later, as they lay closely together, it seemed to Llaw that a burden had been taken from him. He could not recall the moment when it had passed, nor even what it was that had weighed him down. He could smell the newly growing grass and feel the wind of spring upon his face. He could hear the birds in the trees above and sense the joy of growth in the forest. The world of kings and knights and peasants seemed a fragile, insubstantial matter as Arian snuggled against him, her right leg curled over his thigh. Rising on his elbow, he looked down at her. She was sleeping. He touched her skin and kissed her hair and her eyes opened.