Cordelia was last to arrive at supper. Quickly she searched for the bizarre man from before and found him at the knight lord’s table. The marchioness, the seneschal, the twins and some trusted warriors were seated in that order to the knight's left, the inquisitor and two of his men to his right. Ordinarily she would have made for the servant table where the rest of the inquisitor's household staff had also occupied, but not wishing to draw further attention to herself for the hopeless prospect of going through the meal unnoticed, she took the empty seat by Esme’s side, across of her wards, the twins.
The stern churchman had been engaging with Kamaric on some grave subject, which at first she thought concerning herself. But upon her quiet entrance, the bushy brows of his lined face lifted in her direction with a look of surprise and disapproval. As though he was refraining from raising the subject of a house decor of disagreeable taste to his host, the man turned away sharply to put her out of sight. This mode of distaste lingered for no more than a second. Soon the man returned to his conversational tone.
“Extremely awkward business, this,” he was saying to the knight lord, “and most usually, the local lord would forbear what must be done out of secretly harbored superstition they would not confess.”
“I should not think,” said the Kamaric, regarding his meal with a stoic manner, “being wary of things unknown is fit to be called superstitious.”
“The way I see it, lord,” said Timon of Angor, “the proper way to see it, there are things which exist in the Light, and things without. Of the former we love, of the latter we exterminate. ‘Tis of little use to discern the nature of things beyond these simple elements.”
“ ‘Tis maybe so in Camelot, inquisitor, where the Light of our Good Gods pulsates in her every stone of marble walls. Unfortunately little of that Light extends to this corner of Deogratias, where the forests to the West and the marshes to the North have checked our people’s ambitions since the dawn of time. You learn to appreciate what you get with so little at your disposal and so much at stake, and for my part I know these walls are to be trusted, and I shall trust them for so long as my enemies are kept out of it.”
“From the sound of it,” Simon scoffed, “they are already inside, perhaps all this time.”
Cordelia kept an eye and both ears on the conversation, unlike Esme who appeared more interested in the tapestries on the other side of the room. The girl sat erect in a bright green gown Galelia had selected for the night in contrast to her usual boyish taste. So cleverly did the folds of the garments cling upon her limbs and lean body that she seemed a refined young lady who had never once in her life known hard work beyond endless piano and decorum lessons. Her hair she left untied save for a silver pin upon her left ear to display the naked base of her nape before a curtain of golden tresses. The mass of which really had grown out at an astonishing rate since the marchioness had forbidden the rough usage of the girl’s dagger upon it, and now had almost reached Cordelia’s length.
Returning to the matter at hand, Cordelia leaned over and inquired about the ongoing argument between their lord and the guest.
Esme retracted her faraway gaze to take a look at her friend, then acted surprised, as though having just then recognized who was sitting beside her, “Cordelia? Don’t tell me you can’t even guess something so simple. Have your foresight or whatever it is forsaken you now?”
“Oh, you are just an insufferable child, I say!”
“Easy,” the girl said, unfazed, picking up the fork she had not touched, “They haven’t arrived at our matter yet. And at this rate they may never do. This is about the sepulcher in the castle’s backyard.”
“Ah, that.” Cordelia nodded. Obviously the topic of a haunted yard would come up with an expert exorcist in town. Ever since her enlisting in Kamaric’s service, the rumors of rattling chains at the crypt’s entrance had not allayed, but nor had new development or sightings beyond eerie winds and frantic rats been reported by the overly curious servant. And now it seemed the inquisitor was connecting that dreadful business with the keep’s ancient magic.
Her instinct also proved true, for it she had come to the hall without effecting any of her powers to conceal her identity. Despite having noticed something of her, something disagreeable enough for him to cry devil, the man had not broached the subject to Kamaric. Nor did he appear to be the kind who would delay a grave accusation for dramatic effect. Nay, the way he had looked at her was that of a civil man perceiving a dirty rat in a diner’s pristine kitchen. Doubtless he would have struck her down if not out of respect for his host. But not for what she really was. Her human guise held. At least for now.
“So you have nothing to do with that then?” Esme poked meaningfully, still pursuing the line of thought toward the crypt and whatever down there.
“I’m not the leaderess of an endless underworld horde poised for the conquest of the living world, if that’s what you are asking.”
“Wouldn’t have been all too amiss if that was the case.”
On the other corner of the table, a more constructive exchange was taking place.
“How I manage my estate aside,” said Sir Kamaric, “I have been wanting to hear tidings from Camelot. You mentioned the Lorshale heiress’s coming-of-age ball? I can’t see how the business of such a small demesne could be of much consequence.”
“The Baron of Loreshale’s second child,” Simon corrected. “And aye, the event was never supposed to be so troublesome as it ended up being. But they say the young Lorshale lass is a veritable pearl or star or meteor cast from our Lord’s paradise, or whatever ridiculous speech idle youths these days are wonted to attribute to a sinful face.” The old man shot a pointed look at Cordelia. “And there’s the rub. What good can there be in keeping a creature of allure around, dare I ask? Too often when a pretty face is sighted, virtuous prayers at once fly from youthful minds, and sometimes even the old ones. What think your wife, Sir Kamaric, when you keep yond sinful woman in your castle, who may as well be sent by the devil himself?”
“She probably thinks the girl is about my eldest son’s age,” Kamaric said impatiently, “and, being a Believer, does not judge a person by their appearances, no more than by their birth.”
“Can one be fair and honest, Lord?” the man ignored Kamaric’s appeal to his religion’s precept, “I should not think that possible. Allure temps itself as well as careless prey. Few are those who can resist the temptation of their own sinful devices.”
“And what will you have me do? Am I to strike down aught man or woman of beauty I see? Get on with it, you are coming to Baron Loreshale’s daughter.”
“Of course.” The man shrugged, treating his digression as little more than a passing remark on his host’s taste in furniture that was not worth pursuing beyond a few words. “The baron himself was not an unwitting brewer of troubles, mind. It seems his shrewd daughter managed to convince him to empty the family’s coffer to furnish an event beyond their means, and truly she appeared to possess a talent for it, for in Camelot they give that ball’s magnificence with as tiresome praises as those they lavish her little nose. At any rate, the baron was confident his daughter would bring a great dowry and alliance from one of the great lords, and so sent out generous gifts and criers to all corners of the land, inviting the poor and the rich alike. I do believe you also received their invitation?”
“I did. It came when our son was returning home before departing for his questing. ‘Twas first we got to see him in years, so we declined the invitation.”
“Ah, Sir Eadmund, I do believe I have discoursed with him on several occasions on campus ground. An upright young man you have raised, sir.”
The knight at once warmed up to the inquisitor. He leaned over and sent his wife a gentle look, who also had not missed the mention of her beloved son and was beaming with pleasure. “He’s a fine lad, if you would excuse a parent’s exceeding praise. A strict young man even towards himself. You don’t see young knights initiate their careers with questing anymore, not since the tradition was abolished. Always wants to do things the proper way, that child. And all that business with the ordeal he elected, I would be hard-pressed to find fault with his conduct, if that he’s far too strict towards himself.”
“A commendable young man,” Simon nodded, “And he did right to scorn the vixen’s invitation in favor of the valor quest, though the same thing sadly cannot be said of his peers, and that's where the problem lies. I do believe your son is well acquainted with Count Fazael’s eldest? Or have the long alliance between your families failed while I was not looking?”
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“He oft wrote of the young man. They are close I think. Did the lad cause trouble at the banquet?”
“He did, in fact. He and another. The Fazael boy asked for the debutante’s hand. He and the Eyrie’s both.”
“Eyrie, you say?” Kamaric cried out.
The inquisitor started, then stared back with a weird look. “Your other neighbor, aye. Would the Eyries scorn a feast or aught excuse to flaunt their overwrought carriages on every man-made road of Deogratias? I think not.”
“And proud indeed is the duchess. I should not think she would countenance such a marriage?”
“As the story goes, she was there, in fact, and whether she countenance it or not, she did not make any protest.”
Kamaric shifted uneasily in his chair. He had long forgotten his meal in favor of the story that was becoming an unexpected hint at his current trouble. For Cordelia’s part she had not touched a morsel, but instead was trying to memorize all the names and titles. Little enough information of the current world order she could glean from dusty old books, and the affairs of the polite society were seldom discussed by the laundresses in any way approaching reality. This was only her first glimpse at what was going on in the outside world - a world she and Esme both would have to soon face and even deliver from harm.
Meanwhile, Esme had finished her meal and was getting bored.
“So,” the knight asked, “Who did the Lorshale daughter pick? I should think if their goal was to marry into affluence, Eyrie’s the obvious choice.”
“Have I not told you the woman was a shrewd one, sir?” the inquisitor said with the apparent scorn and a distaste that had now become familiar to Cordelia. “She picked neither, as a matter of fact. She would have a hard time choosing, the vixen said, that both lads were admirable young men, that she would hate to disappoint either, and such drivels. You see how I mean, sir?”
“I do not, as a matter of fact.”
“She meant to incite trouble! And if all that I have told you have not conveyed that clearly, I’m sure this would: she did not pick either, instead she offered a token to the one who would pay the highest price for it. A hairpin, like that one,” he gestured at Esme like she was a painting on the wall as a point of reference. The girl did not so much as flinch. She sipped her wine. “A silver hairpin,” he continued, “pulled straight from her lustful hair.”
Kamaric raised his brows at the descriptor and seemed for a moment going to ask what could be so lustful about someone’s hair. Instead he said, “That does not make all too much sense. The Fazael could never outbid the Eyrie, if the latter is ever inclined to enter a bid, and such a token would be as well interpreted as engagement. Why did not she simply choose the Eyrie without the charade? They are at any rate the worse house to offend than the Fazael.”
“Then you are of an honest mind, sir,” the stern man cracked a rare smile, “as are most of us who are without privy into sinful souls. The Eyrie lad naturally outbid the other, for the Count of Fazael was not so willing to part with his money as the countess for a foul thing as pride, ‘twas true. But then the Fazael boy leaped forth, all bravado-like, and loudly he did exclaim that the highest price was not measured in gold but the lives of men! And having said thus, he challenged his rival to a combat.”
“Such foolishness!” Kamaric exclaimed, “and at any rate did not agree with how Eadmund described him, and my son’s not one to embellish even on account of a friend.”
“No party involved did act how they were supposed to that day, I’m afraid. It was as though they had been put under a spell of the devil. And I say that perhaps played a part in what was to unfold then.”
Cordelia froze. The inquisitor's figure of speech had tripped an alarm in her, something she had for all this time overlooked for more pressing affairs. A possibility perhaps. She had forgotten the other einherjar and their purposes in this world, all of which had not with relevance occurred to her other than their insatiable hunger for Esme’s life and hers. But their affair was only an anomaly, and the einherjar’s chief mission, as put by Jormungandr, was to cause chaos in the world of man and prepare for a great catastrophe. Kamaric had not discerned it, or did not want to believe it, but this Loreshale girl’s intention could not be more obvious to Cordelia. She too dropped her spoon and stopped pretending to eat. Esme gave this gesture a curious glance.
“The Eyrie boy accepted the challenge,” meanwhile, Simon was arriving at the story’s climax. “And with a handful of lords and their scions as witnesses, they dueled. I spare you the embroidered words, sir, which the gossipers of Camelot these days loved to lavish this brutish duel. Only the consequence mattered. The Eyrie boy beat his rival, injured him with his sword and blood was drawn, though the amount of which varies so much between tellers I hesitate to give it even an estimate. The certain thing was that Lord Fazael’s son lost fair and square. There was no protest left in him anymore and so the Eyrie helped him up, both duelists then embraced each other like brothers, or so they said. And perhaps the boys really did. For youthful idiocy aside, they would soon be knighted, and their respective Orders do not assent to pettiness. But this peace and camaraderie could never satisfy the vixen’s appetite for sins and conflicts. She went to Lord Fazael’s son and offered him the hairpin out of pity.”
“Did she now?” Sir Kamaric inhaled, the dreadful outcome dawning on him. “I suppose the Eyries did not receive that well.”
“They were furious! And yet they would not give up the marriage. Upon their departure the duchess and her son vowed to get the marriage done at all cost, and there they played in the Loreshale witch’s hand. Now this event was a humiliation for both sides, the Fazaels for the boy was best and pitied, the Eyries for they were cheated a prize of pride. And there was an agreement between the lords present to speak nothing of the event to the outside world, for few liked to offend the proud Eyries. And since the duel was held in a private part of their estate, there were few enough of them to check the rumors from spreading. Last month, however, the story wormed into every corner of Camelot. For at the same time, both families had made formal offers for the Loreshale’s wench. And now there’s talk of war between two houses. For a woman.”
“And pride,” the knight contemplated. “Utterly foolish business, this. If this talk of war proves true then factions in the country will raise their support for each side. And then the Lord only knows who will get out of this unscathed. What says Duke Gehenna on the matter?”
“The Duke of Gehenna looks southward to guard our border against the Great Plains’ raiders. I do not see how he would concern himself over such matters.”
The knight glared at Simon. He was never a man with patience for pretension of obliviousness. “This country requires a king to preserve order within her border. Short of that, Duke Gehenna is the only one with enough influence to keep either side in check.”
The inquisitor looked deeply offended. “The archbishop rules in Camelot, sir.”
“And has Ethelbert lifted a finger to prevent the conflict? Will His Reverend muster his troops who are paid with our tithe to stop an all-out war?”
“Their mission is to defend the throne and His Reverend. Nor do our precepts allow for war and bloodshed. You can’t seriously expect churchmen to go to war, sir.”
“They defend an empty throne, and even the Council of Cardinal’s verdicts within the domain of Our Lord’s precepts are capricious. I have not so soon forgotten how the Council dealt with conflicts in the past, nor should anyone.”
“Always the Council sue for peace and restraint.”
“Always indeed! Always they call for warriors to drop their shields and embrace each other, meanwhile men fight and die to defend their homesteads, villages burn with the corpses of women raped and children skewered by passing warbands. And yet the last time your Cardinals spoke of justice, it was justice for the side who could still afford to pay them the year’s tithe - money hotly soaked in Believers’ blood!”
“Beware the profane speech, sir! If I did not think you so full of wine, I would say you are in rebellion against the archbishop!”
“I pay Ethelbert respect and reverence, not tithe, unlike with your Council. Nor does Ethelbert concern himself with earthly matters like his lieutenants’ wont. If one does not like to dirty his hand, he will do well to stay out of it altogether instead of excommunicating men and women of an already ravaged land for being unable to pay the holy tax! Hark well, for not a day have I buried out of mind the injustice done to Verloren, unlike the other lords elected to do! What this land needs is not churchmen who play rulers and tax collectors. She needs a king who can rule with an iron fist and keep his subjects in line!”
“The Duke of Gehenna,” Simon said with disgust, “How well trusted he is to be our monarch! For your desperate wish to learn of his stance, I will tell you what the people have to say, not my personal opinion, mind, though I could hardly find fault in their saying! He stands outside the affair, completely. The man observes, empowered by earthly ambitions! For he who is not honor-bound to fly his banner in the conflict would be the last man standing with a ravaged land up for grabs. Contest you the saying, sir?”
Sir Kamaric went quiet, frowning for he was deeply troubled. Whatever this Duke of Gehenna was about, Cordelia noted, he was not so idealistic a man that Kamaric would deny out of hand the event he would let the country be engulfed in bloodshed for the sake of his ambition.
“Very well,” the inquisitor rose from his seat, “I see our civil conversation has grown too heated by far, and now I risk offending my host. It’s best I retire for the night. As for my investigation, I do not believe the mad druid you slew marked the end of what is going on in your domain. I shall conduct a thorough examination come tomorrow, starting with the crypt. Have I your leave, sir?”
“As you please,” Kamaric grumbled.
The entire hall was still gripped in a dead silence even when Simon and his men had left. Then at length the knight called grimly for his seneschal, his brow set in deep lines. “Gideon, you heard the man, have someone attend to his needs. But not you. Starting tomorrow, you are to inventory the granary; then have every fighting man oil their leather and every cattle head accounted for. Send carpenters to the hoardings, all the timbers in my domain shall be at their disposal; spearheads, spear shafts, on the double. As for the rest of you...”
He rose from his seat and scanned the silenced hall full of servants, idlers and warriors, whose livelihood depended upon the banner of the silver wolf. “You have this season to learn thrift and courage. For I fear come spring there will be a dire need for those.”