David Gemmell: Quest for Lost Heroes

'Where is Akarin?'

'He has decided not to continue his lessons.'

'And you arranged this, my lord?' asked Chareos softly.

'I did. You were wrong, master Chareos. When I am an officer I will have no one in my force who is not excellent in every department. I shall certainly have no pigs.'

'Neither will I, my lord. I suggest that you and your cousin remove yourselves immediately. The rest of you gentlemen can begin on the pegs.'

'No one move!' ordered Patris and the youths froze. 'You dare to insult me?' the boy demanded of Chareos.

'You have brought discredit on yourself, my lord,' Chareos answered him icily, 'and I will no longer be at your service. Since these youngsters are your friends, and in some way dependent on your good graces, I shall not ask them to remain and incur your displeasure. There will be no more lessons. Good day to you.'

Chareos bowed to the group and walked away.

'You'll pay for this!' Patris shouted.

The monk ignored him and returned to his rooms, his fury hard to control. He was not angry with Patris, but with himself; he should have seen it coming. The Earl's son was a fine athlete, but his personality was flawed. There was in him an arrogance which could not be curbed, and a cruelty which would never be held in check.

After a while he calmed his emotions and walked to the library. Here in the cold, stone quiet of the reading hall he sat and studied the writings of the philosopher Neucean.

Lost in his studies, he did not feel the hours flow by. A hand touched his shoulder.

'The Earl is waiting for you in the Long Hall,' said the Senior Brother.

Chareos left the library and walked through the arched gardens towards the steps to the Long Hall. He had expected some reaction to his dismissal of Patris — but a visit from the Earl? And so swiftly? It made him feel uneasy. In Gothir the old feudal laws had been much revised, but the Earl was still the ultimate power in the Southlands and, on a whim, he could have a man flogged or imprisoned or both.

Chareos gathered his thoughts and climbed the stairs to the Hall. The Earl was standing alone by the south window, his fingers tapping rhythmically at the sill.

'Welcome, my lord,' said Chareos and the slim young man turned to him, forcing a smile. His face was fine-featured, his hair long and blond, heat-curled in the manner of the Lord Regent's Court.

'What are we to do about this business, Chareos?' asked the Earl, beckoning the monk to a seat by the window. Chareos sat but the Earl remained standing.

'You are speaking of the lessons?'

'Why else would I be here? You have caused quite a stir. My wife wants you flogged; the Captain of the Guard wishes to challenge you; my son wants you hanged — though I pointed out that withdrawing from lessons is hardly a crime. So, what can we do?'

'Is the subject so important, my lord? There are many swordmasters.'

'That is not the point and you know it, Chareos. You have insulted the heir to the earldom and, in doing so, it could be argued that you have insulted me.'

'The question of right and wrong must be considered,' said the monk.

'The fat boy? Yes. But I want this business resolved. I suggest you invite the child — what's his name? Akarin? — to return to the classes. You can then pair him with someone else, and the lessons can continue.'

Chareos considered the question and shook his head. 'I am indeed sorry that you feel the need to be involved in this. . petty matter. What with thoughts of the Nadir, the Slave raids and the many duties you face, this is an unnecessary irritant. However, I do not see that the resumption of lessons is what is called for here. Your son is highly gifted, but arrogant. Resumption of lessons will, for him, be a victory. It will be the better for the boy if he is placed with another master.'

'You speak of arrogance?' snapped the Earl. 'He has every right to be arrogant. He is my son — and we of the House of Arngir are used to victory. The lessons will resume.'

Chareos rose and met the Earl's icy stare. 'I should point out, my lord, that I receive no pay. I chose — as a free man — to administer the lessons. I choose as a free man to cease them. I am contracted to no one, and therefore am not under the law.'

'Then you are telling me that the insult to my family stands? Be careful, Chareos. Think of what that means.'

The monk took a deep, slow breath. 'My lord,' he said at last, 'I hold you in the highest regard. If you feel that my actions have brought discredit to you, then accept my sincerest apologies. But at the beginning it was made clear to the students that, in the matter of my lessons, they had no rank. There would be no privilege. Patris not only dismissed one of my pupils, but stopped the others from obeying a command. By all the rules that he — and you — agreed, he had to go. I cannot reverse that decision.' 'Cannot? Say it honestly, man. You will not.' 'I will not.' A cold silence grew between the men, but the Earl seemed unwilling to end the meeting and paced by the window for several minutes.

'Very well,' he said finally. 'It will be as you say. Logar will take over the duties of Swordmaster. I will see you, as agreed, at the castle hall on Petition Morning.' 'You still wish me to practise with you, my lord?' 'I do. Or are you withdrawing from that duty also?' 'Not at all, sir. I will look forward to it.' The Earl smiled. 'Until then,' he said, turning on his heel and striding from the hall. Chareos sat down, his hands trembling and his heart beating wildly.

It did not make sense for the Earl to retain him, and he had an uneasy feeling that the next practice would not be a pleasant experience. Was he to be publicly humiliated?

He wandered to the window. Now would be a good time to leave. He could travel north to the capital, or south-east into Vagria. Or even south through the lands of the Nadir and on to Drenan and the Great Library.

He thought of the twelve gold coins he still had hidden in his room. He could buy two horses and supplies for a journey. His gaze flickered around the Hall; he had been almost content here.

His mind journeyed back to the last night on the gate-tower, as they sat with Tenaka Khan, the violet-eyed Lord of the Nadir. 'Why did you let us live?' whispered Chareos.

The two-hour service was drawing to a close. Chareos enjoyed the singing of hymns, the chanting of the ritual prayers and the feeling of belonging that accompanied the morning worship. It did not matter to him that his faith was less than that of his brothers. He felt at one with the Grey Order, and that in itself was enough for the former soldier.

He rose from his knees and filed out with the others, head bowed, face shadowed by the deep hood. The morning sunshine was welcome after the cold of the Nave as Chareos stepped out into the Long Garden and down the terraces towards the southern gate. Once beyond it, the peace of the monastery was lost within the noise of the crowds heading for the market meetings. Chareos allowed himself to be swept along until he reached the main square, where he pushed clear of the crowd and moved down a narrow alleyway to the Livestock Market. Daily auctions were watched here by discerning farmers and noblemen, the pedigrees of bulls and horses discussed at length in the stalls surrounding the circular arena. Chareos eased himself on to the front bench by the rail, and sat in silence while the bulls were led into the circle. The bidding was brisk, especially for the Drenai bulls — powerful beasts, short-horned but weighed down with "flesh. After an hour the horses were led in. Chareos bid for a bay gelding, but lost out to a young nobleman sitting three rows back. He bid again for a dun mare, but this time was beaten by a bid from the back of the arena. Most of the other horses were swaybacks, or past their prime, and he began to lose interest. Then the grey was brought in. Chareos had no wish to bid for a grey; out in the Wildlands they stood out too much, unlike the bay or the chestnut. But this animal had the look of eagles about him. His neck was long and arched, his ears flat to his skull, his eyes fierce and proud. The man leading him had a nervous look, as if fearing that at any moment the beast would rear and smash his skull. Bidding was slow, and Chareos was surprised to find himself raising an arm, and even more surprised when he won the auction with a price less than half the sum he had bid for the gelding.