The Wizard

Chapter 29. Lord Escan

Wistan and I rode to the castle the next day. To describe all the people who quizzed us—some because it was their duty, others out of curiosity—would take more time than I want to give it. There were more than a dozen.

At length we were sent to a court I might have thought King Arnthor’s if I had not been told otherwise. It was that of the Earl Marshal, a nobleman of many titles, who sat a throne a little smaller than Gilling’s on a dais, attended by perhaps a hundred, most of them supplicants of one stripe or another and the rest servants and attendants.

He was busy with a matter involving the king’s stable when we arrived, the borrowing of a stallion from a duke who was not Marder, the lending of one of the king’s in return, a colt from a mare of the king’s to be given the duke, a colt from one of the duke’s mares to be given the king, and so on. The stallion to be borrowed had already been decided when we came; the one to be loaned in return was under discussion. So-and-so was the best, but the duke’s man did not like the color. Another, white, was beautiful but savage; it was not to be ill-treated, although it kicked and bit. It was not to be fought for sport. The duke’s man would not guarantee on his master’s behalf that it would not be fought—they had not considered that. Very well, if it was...

And so on for an hour. I was impatient at first, but soon found much of interest in the Earl Marshal’s questions, comments, offers, and suggestions. He was a formidable negotiator who if he had not been a nobleman might have made his fortune as a trader—subtle, patient, and ingenious. He was portly and gained advantage from his size, more from his jowls, the great pale dome of his head, and his eyes, which were perhaps the shrewdest I have ever seen.

At last the stallions were settled. For a moment those eyes were on me, and I expected him to talk to me or tell one of his bustling clerks to do it. An elderly woman was led before him instead. Seeing her infirmity, he asked whether she would not prefer to sit, and a chair was brought.

Her first husband, it transpired, had been a knight; it meant that she was formally addressed as “Dame.” He had died in some long-ago skirmish and she had remarried, choosing a draper. Now he too was dead; she wished to resume her title, but her neighbors would not accord it to her.

“There is no question,” the Earl Marshal declared, “that you ask no more than is yours by law. None but the king may expunge these honors, and I recall no case in which the loser was a lady. No doubt it has occurred, but the time would be prior to my birth and yours. If you require a declaration of your right, I make it—and publicly. If you ask a written one, a clerk can prepare it and I’ll sign it.”

Humbly the old woman said, “They know they wrong me, My Lord. They delight in it.”

“And you,” the Earl Marshal inquired, “do you yourself honor Sir Owan?”

“In my heart, My Lord. Daily.”

“Harrumph!” The Earl Marshal’s eyes rolled. “Hearts I leave to Skai, Dame Eluned. I cannot look into them. You are of means—your dress proclaims it. Are Sir Owan’s arms displayed on your house?”

So soft was the old woman’s reply that the Earl Marshal had to ask her to repeat it.

“No, My Lord.”

“On the liveries of your servants—your manservants, if not your women?” There was no reply.

“The favorable ruling you ask of me lies in your power, Dame Eluned, not in mine.” The Earl Marshal made a gesture of dismissal, and at once his servants helped the old woman to her feet and removed the chair.

“I will have the knight next,” said the Earl Marshal, indicating me.

The crowd parted, and I came forward.

“Do I know your mail, or does that but imitate it?”

I replied, “You know it, My Lord.”

“It has been said to lie no longer within this world.”

I made no answer, since no question had been asked. “Was it in Mythgarthr that you obtained it?”

“No, My Lord.”

For a moment his court was silent, a silence he himself broke by clearing his throat. “Harrumph! I move too quickly for reason. Your name?”

“I’m Sir Able of Redhall.”

“Your allegiance is to His Grace Duke Marder, is that correct?”

“It is, My Lord.”

“Yet you do not go to His Grace for justice?” The Earl Marshal raised a hand. “Peace. We shall come to that by and by. You ride a fine barb, Sir Able. One of my clerks called me to a window to see him. I will examine him more nearly when I have leisure.”

“I will be honored to show her, My Lord.”

The Earl Marshal’s eyes opened a little wider. “Did I hear you say that animal is a mare?”

“She is, My Lord, though often taken for a stallion.”

“I should like to see a stallion of her line.”

“I’ve none to exhibit to you, My Lord.”

“Has she been bred?”

“No, My Lord. She’s still young, nor would the coupling be easy.”

“She has not attained full growth?” He was skeptical.

“No, My Lord.”

He passed a hand across his face. “I should like to see her grown. I’d like to see that very much. We will speak of this after.”

“I’m at My Lord’s command.”

“You are one of His Grace’s knights. He bid you hold a mountain pass for some months. Such was the last I heard of you, Sir Able. He has given you Redhall since, and so thinks highly of you. You held the pass?”

“I did, My Lord.”

“Against how many?”

“Three, My Lord.”

He chuckled. “Your fellows think well of you, too, or more would have come against you. You overthrew all three?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“Admirable. How may we serve you?”

“I need an audience with His Majesty, My Lord.”

“And have no friend at court. I see. You wish to be presented?”

“We must talk, My Lord. I have a message for him.”

“I see. From?”

“I’ll keep silence on that, My Lord.”

“I—see.” The Earl Marshal motioned to one of his clerks. “Take Sir Able to the Red Room.”

Wistan hurried forward to join me.

“Make that my library. You wish your squire to remain in your company, Sir Able? We will find entertainment for him elsewhere if you do not.”

“I’d like him to stay, if it won’t be too much trouble.”

“Very well. You will desire refreshment. Tell Payn.”

The Earl Marshal’s library proved a snug room with a fire and a hundred books or more on shelves and tables. Payn (young and bald, with eyes nearly as shrewd as his master’s) bid us sit and cautioned us about the books. “All these are priceless. You understand, I hope.”

Wistan said we did.

I was looking at them, and took one from its shelf. “Can you read, Sir Able?”

“No,” I said.

“No more can I read that one. It’s of Aelfrice, and the letters are very different from our own.”

Wistan asked how the Earl Marshal had gotten a book from Aelfrice; the matter was complex, but Payn explained it at some length, ending with, “It’s a history of the place, with an explanation of their laws.”

I had been reading while he spoke. “They have none, and it’s mostly a chronicle of the kings of the Stone Aelf. But this,” I showed him the place, “is a spell to turn ghosts visible. ‘By Mannanan and Mider, by Bragi, Boe, and Llyr, by all you hope from Bridge of Swords, I conjure you, appear!’”

The hag at the fire laughed, and by her laugh I knew she had been there the entire time. I heard the door slam, but I thought Payn alone had fled.

“Greetings, mother,” I said. “I didn’t really mean to conjure you. I’m sorry for my carelessness.”

“You don’t like having me around.” She tittered. “What have you done with my cat?”

Hearing that, I knew who she was and said, “I left him behind me, mother, and I miss him a lot. As for you, you showed me hospitality once when I was in need of it. You’re welcome to mine, whenever you choose.”

She scooped coals from the fire, shook them together in her hands, and cast them onto the hearth. For a few seconds she bent over them, blowing on them to brighten their glow. “You fear the sister,” she told me. “Fear the brother.”

“Garsecg? He’s dead.”

She laughed, and vanished as the door swung back and the Earl Marshal came in, followed reluctantly by Wistan. “I was told there was a ghost here.” The Earl Marshal smiled.

I bowed. “If there is, My Lord, we cannot see her.”

“Just so.” He pulled out the largest chair. “Won’t you sit down, Sir Able? This is no formal hearing.”

I thanked him, sat, and motioned for Wistan to sit.

“Payn rushed up to me with this young fellow. They said you had raised a spirit. I feared for my books and came.” I said I felt sure she had taken none. “You did call up a ghost, Sir Able?”

“Unintentionally, My Lord.” I closed the book, rose, and returned it to its place upon his shelves.

“Could you do it again?”

“I don’t think that would be wise, My Lord.” I went back to my chair.

“You’re probably right—if you did as you say.”

“I’d prefer, My Lord, that you think me mendacious. It will save a thousand difficulties.”

“Can you read the book you were looking at?”

“No, My Lord.”

“This youth, your squire,” by the lightest nod of his massive head, the Earl Marshal indicated Wistan, “said you had found a spell in one of my books.”

“That youth is no longer my squire, My Lord.”

He sighed. “I share your difficulty. I won’t dismiss Payn, but I should. You said you couldn’t read that book.”

“I did, My Lord.”

“Are you saying that you said it or that you read it? It would seem we have fallen among conundrums already.”

“Both, My Lord.”

“Would you lie to me, Sir Able? I mean in matters other than that of the ghost, in which we agree on your mendacity.”

“No, My Lord.”

“So you read it, but can no longer read it? Why not?”

“It’s shut, My Lord. I can’t see the words.”

“Tush.” He raised a wide hand, damp with perspiration. “You read the character of Aelfrice. You need not say it, I know it. No wonder His Grace thinks highly of you.”

Wistan coughed. “If I may, My Lord? As I am no longer Sir Able’s squire, I may seek other service without dishonor. So it seems to me.”

“And to me, young man.” A slight smile played about the Earl Marshal’s lips.

“I seek it with you, My Lord. Take me at my word when I say I wouldn’t betray Sir Able’s confidences. He’s told me nothing in confidence, but I know more concerning him than most. I’ll advise you in the matter, if you’ll allow it.”

The Earl Marshal chuckled.

“You’ve need of an advisor, My Lord. For years I served an ordinary knight-at-arms. He was as worthy a knight as ever drew sword, to which Sir Able will attest. But a common knight, however staunch. Sir Able is of is another ilk.”

“I do not require you to tell me that, young man. What is your name, by the way?”

“Wistan, My Lord.”

“You may advise me in this matter, Wistan, if you will.”

“Thank you, My Lord. I am honored.”

The Earl Marshal made a tower of fingers and regarded Wistan over it. “If your advice proves profitable, I’ll take you into my service as you wish. If it does not, I will not. If I do, you must serve me better than you did Sir Able. If you do not, I’ll dismiss you just as he did.”

He turned to me. “Is he of good character, Sir Able?”

“Pretty much so, My Lord, though I’ve been trying to improve it.”

“No doubt.” The Earl Marshal turned back to Wistan. “You are my advisor, Wistan. This knight tells us that he bears a message to His Majesty—an important message, Sir Able?”

“I believe it must be, My Lord.”

“He will not reveal its source. Do you know it?”

Wistan shook his head. “Know it? Not I, My Lord.”

“Can you guess it?”

“I can try, My Lord. We were in the north when he left us, riding swiftly to Redhall. I joined him, bringing his servants and much treasure. Queen Idnn gave him that—”

The Earl Marshal’s eyes narrowed.

“I mean much of it was her gift, My Lord, and she was the one who got the rest to give so much. So if he rode with a message, I think it must be hers.”

The Earl Marshal looked to me. “Are we antagonists, Sir Able? I hope otherwise. I bear you no ill will.”

“I don’t bear you any either, My Lord.”

“Until this moment, I’d have boasted that there was not a royal personage within a thousand leagues who was unknown to me.” He laced hands on his belly, which was substantial. “Almost I am tempted to make the boast still. Is this a true queen of whom this stripling speaks? If she favors you, you must know her.”

“She is, My Lord. She’s Queen of the Skjaldmeyjar, the Daughters of Angr.”

“By this you intend the wives of the Frost Giants?”

“And their daughters, My Lord.”

“No man has seen them, Sir Able.”

Wistan said, “I have, My Lord.”

“So have I,” I said. “So has His Grace and many others who were with us.”

“This Idnn is their queen?”

“She is, My Lord. A good queen and a brave woman.”

Wistan started talking, but the Earl Marshal silenced him, rose, paced the room, took down the book I had shelved and turned its pages, and at last sat again. “This past summer, His Majesty sent my old friend Lord Beel to Jotunland as his ambassador. Against my advice, for it seemed to me an errand too hazardous for any man. Lord Beel has a daughter, young and fair. These arms rocked her when she was still in swaddling clothes. I ask a plain answer, is this the Queen Idnn of whom you speak? Yes or no?”

“It is, My Lord.”

“You have been with Lord Beel in Jotunland?”

Wistan said hastily, “We both have, My Lord. He was Sir Garvaon’s liege. I was Sir Garvaon’s squire.”

“Was His Grace with Lord Beel as well? It was said a moment ago that he had seen the Frost Giants’ women.”

“Yes, My Lord. Sir Able brought him, My Lord, while we were in Utgard.”

“Before Lady Idnn became queen of Angr’s women?”

“Afterward, My Lord. Only we didn’t know it then. We didn’t know if there were any ‘til Hela brought them.”

“Harrumph!”

“Hela’s Sir Woddet’s maidservant, My Lord. Only she used to be Sir Able’s. He gave her and her brother to Sir Woddet, My Lord, because they’re friends and he wanted them. Sir Garvaon said not to trust them, so I tried to stay away from them. Only the Angrborn women are worse. They’re bigger and I never liked the way they looked at me, only they helped us in the battle.”

“There was a battle.”

That was directed to me. I said, “Yes, My Lord. King Schildstarr’s army tried to keep us from leaving Jotunland.”

“By us you signify His Grace and His Lordship? Queen Idnn as well?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“Who naturally called upon her subjects. Did they fight with dashers and pestles? That sort of thing?”

“No, My Lord. With spears and swords.”

“And they are of the size of the Angrborn?”

“Larger, My Lord. Something larger.”

“Lady Idnn is their queen. Lord Beel’s daughter.”

“Right, My Lord. Lady Idnn married King Gilling. To be Queen of Jotunland is to be Queen of the Skjaldmeyjar.”

“A King Schildstarr was mentioned not long ago.”

“King Gilling’s successor, My Lord.”

“I see. Did King Gilling fall in battle?”

“No, My Lord. He was murdered.”

“This is ill news.” The Earl Marshal sat with pursed lips. “By some partisan of this Schildstarr?”

“I think so, My Lord,” Wistan put in. “Some people thought Toug did it, but I know he didn’t.”

The Earl Marshal blinked, and asked me who Toug was.

“He’s Sir Svon’s squire, My Lord, and Wistan’s right. Toug’s innocent of the murder of King Gilling.”

“Is this Sir Svon the Svon I know?”

“I believe so, My Lord.”

Wistan said, “He fought the dragon in Aelfrice, My Lord. Only he wasn’t killed, and Sir Garvaon was. I didn’t see it. I mean I saw his body. The dragon bit him nearly through.”

The Earl Marshal rose. “You offered to show me that, um, mare of yours, Sir Able. Let’s look at her.”

We traversed a dozen corridors and passed through four courtyards. I recall thinking at the time that in spite of Thortower’s many lofty walls, soaring towers, and circles of fortification, it could not be defended by anything less than an army. It was too big to be held by a few hundred men—or a thousand, for that matter.

At last we reached the stables, and by pretending to quiet Cloud so the Earl Marshal could examine her, I was able to conceal the ivory dot that would become her horn. When he had stroked her muzzle, which she tolerated, he asked to ride her; and I was forced to say that he could not, that she would not permit it.

“I might tame her in time, I suppose,” he said.

“No, My Lord.”

“No one but yourself, eh?”

“I’ve ridden her,” Wistan said, “but Sir Able’s right, I wouldn’t try it unless she likes you.”

“My weight, perhaps. Well, she’s a remarkable animal, Sir Able. I won’t ask whether you’ll sell her. I know the answer. It wouldn’t be just in any event when you hope for an audience with the king.”

I said, “I do, My Lord. Very much. I must get one.”

“I understand. Some things, anyway. You’ve no friends at court? None? Ah. Your face says otherwise. Who is he?”

“She, My Lord. Princess Morcaine. Anyway I hope she’s my friend, but I don’t want to bother her unless I have to.”

The Earl Marshal wiped his face with his hand, then wiped his hand on his coat. “That, I ought to have guessed long ago. This isn’t one of my brilliant days. As to her friendship, who knows? It’s the wind. I myself—well, I hope you don’t find her friendship worse than her enmity”

It seemed a good time to say nothing, so I did.

“I ask you again. Who sends your message to the king? We’ll send the boy away if it suits you.”

“I think it better not to talk about that, My Lord.”

“As you wish.” The Earl Marshal gave Cloud a final pat, and turned away. “I like you, Sir Able. I’ll do what I can for you, but there are risks I cannot take.”

“He’s no common knight, My Lord, as I told you.” Wistan sounded older than his years. “You’re wise to go carefully. You’d be wiser still to make a friend of him, if you can.”

The Earl Marshal nodded as though to himself. “I will soon try. First, Sir Able, I can’t ask an audience with the king at which you’ll deliver a message of which I’m ignorant. You will not so much as confide the name of the sender. Will you? This is your final opportunity.”

“I won’t, My Lord.” It was not as cold as it had been in Jotunland, but the stable was unheated and open in scores of places; I drew my cloak about me. “As for confiding the message itself, I can’t. It is not in my power to do it.”

“You are bound by an oath, eh?”

“No, My Lord. I don’t know what it is.”

“Yet you could deliver it to the king?”

“Yes, My Lord. I’ll know it, My Lord, when we meet.”

Wistan said, “There’s but one way to discover it, My Lord, and if the words are ungracious you can’t be blamed.”

“You know little of the world.” The Earl Marshal turned to me. “I can’t run the risk of begging an audience for you, not with the best of wills. I hope you understand.”

“I’m grateful for your good wishes, My Lord.”

“I proffer two suggestions. The first depends on me, the second on you. Here’s the first, if you wish it. When the time seems ripe, I will inform the king that a strange knight has come with news from the north, that he reports King Gilling fallen, and a new king in Utgard—with many marvels. It isn’t improbable the king will ask that you be brought before him. Shall I do it? The choice is yours.”

“I beg you to. I’ll be indebted forever, My Lord.”

“The second. You are a stout knight and overthrew all who challenged you in the north. There will be a tourney in three days, as always at Yeartide. You could enter those events at which you may excel. Those who greatly distinguish themselves will be entertained by the king and queen.”

I vowed that I would strive to be among them, and he dismissed me.