LXII. Since leaving the woods, sir Antuel was counted hereon as a member of Edwald’s fellowship, and the time he spent along such a strange company was not to his pleasure. Sir Frann of Velour—whom he was told he should call ‘Hank’—was also a Graythman like him, but refused to treat him like his liege-lord, since he was proad and often boasted to be loyal only to the king and had little love either for his family or him. Asadue was a foreigner from the far south, furthermore he had been a slave, and the Sovarós did not cherish freedom like Elbracht did, so he deemed it beneath him to share any thoughts with him. Edwald was a queer name and sir Antuel certainly disliked calling such a noble lord like Elbracht by so common a moniker. Yet he insisted it was for the best, for there was still a bounty on their heads, and if a wary ear should be dropped at the mention of so distinguished men, many would alert the guards and claim the reward for themselves. So it was a risk which he was not willing to take. When it came to him, sir Antuel had mixed feelings, for though he had refused to marry his niece, even spitting insults at her face, he was also the ‘man who raised him from the dead’—as he often put it.
However much sir Antuel disrelished the fellowship, in sir Hans he had a friend and he was the only one to make his time among such men altogether bearable. He reminded him of his sense of duty and invited many merry memories about his brother, for they spend the days talking about lord Hadril in his best days, never daring to recall the sad way in which he met his end. And yet he saw that inspite of their time in Locht Nelbáris, his heart had not fully healed, for ever did he say that ‘his blade would not be sheathed until house Sovarós was avenged’.
They travelled by the open fields to the east, where no road had yet been made, and the hardest days of winter were still ahead. Though among the elves, it seemed that spring had come aforetime, in the world outside it were the last days of the first month, and the fields were cold and grey and the clouds oftentimes wept ice and snow, the skies were filled with a gloomy mist and haze and there soared only ravens and crows, which croaking was like an anthem to them that told of things to beware. This omen was well-met, for passed the hours when the descried the road to their north, they saw many a throng of guards that travelled hither and thither waving the Black Griffin’s banner.
Wisely, they kept their pace from the thoroughfare, yet never loosing sight of it. They used it as trail to guide themselves from afar. Upon the day, since leaving the woods, they spotted a faint line of water drawing ever nearer to the east. They had come to the Nullen Lake, where the River Mirn made a pause before running to the sea. On the beach of the lake stood a burg of sandstone walls and blood-red spires that scraped the clouds. The castle was tall like a hill, there many crows had made their home, and under its shade lay a town in ruins that many had long forlorn. At the sight of that burg, Edwald was filled with memories, for two wars ago, his father, lord Elreck, had battled for that same fortress, and took it from the Sovarós to serve him as an outpost for his hosts.
But Edwald was not alone in those thoughts; sir Antuel had memories of that place too. He remembered he used to come visit his uncle before he died. Fitz had been the abode of lord Jaerech Sovarós, whom, in part due to the many birds that adorned his roofs, people called the Old Gold Crow. Whenever his family travelled to Nalas, they would meet with him there after the holidays and he would tell stories of his house from the best days of its past. Though just like him, the memory of his burg had been besmirched and now it served only as a reminder of the war the kingdom of Thindur had lost to their foes of the south. To be there again in the company of the son whose father was the conqueror of that land filled sir Antuel with grudge and invited a resentment towards Edwald and his blood, he had not dare feel before.
However troubling his feelings were, sir Antuel wish neither seed any feud in the fellowship, nor tease his temper. Yet the longer they waited there, the less able he grew to rule his heart.
-“Why do we tarry here?” he asked Edwald, “This place is full memories, some more pleasing to you than to me, for do not think that I have forgotten your father’s war, when he took up arms against my kin and conquered this castle some years ago. Have we not fought off many memories already to come to the burg of Fitz? Do wish to either taunt me with the past, or else surrender me to my cousin’s men? For that we will find there, memories and traitors to my brother’s men.”
-“Believe me sir Antuel,” Edwald answered, “No less than you do I reproach coming hither. But if we wish to get you to your kindmsan, lord Tyén, we must cross the Nullen Lake; to do that, we’ll need to go by the Burg of Fitz first. The sooner we leave this wretched place, the better it will be for us all.”
-“Is there no other way of steering clear of Fitz?” asked sir Antuel.
-“None, unless you want to waste time travelling to the south for some days, only to then go north again,” replied Edwald.
-“But we shouldn’t risk being seen,” said sir Hans, siding naturally with his liege-lord, “That can be best avoided if we go to the north instead. The path will be much safer and it also spares us some time.”
-“Aye that road is secure,” said Asadue, “Yet only because it is always watched over by Black Griffin’s guard. ‘Twill be foolish to follow that path.”
-“What shall it be then?” asked Edwald, “To go round the lake to the south will take time, and the shortcut to the north will get us caught. This is why travelling by Fitz is the better option. Many slaves are shipped thence to the land of Cadia, so if we are stealthy and cautious, we may hide among them like we did in Belém. This approach had helped us well thus far; it can serve us still one more time.”
“You wish us to mingle with slaves?” said sir Antuel appalled by the prospect, “I know you boast to cherish freedom above duty, even above honour. But this is Thindur, not Harador, and we, Graythman, do not like to treat with those beneath us. I can cope with faring alongside a low-born such as your man, Asadue, here. But to demean myself so as to share in their bond is too much to ask from me. I will not have it!”
At hearing this, Asadue was visibly insulted, and though he restrained himself from saying anything rash, Edwald did not.
-“Aye, I am well aware of how you and your countrymen see the world,” he said, “It is easy to look down upon slaves when one has not felt the cold iron of chains around the neck. Had I known you would be so cruel to think so little of the worth of men, I would gladly have left you to dream in the realm of elves. But I swore an oath to your sister that I would keep you safe until we bring you to your kinsman, lord Tyén, and it will not be told that I break my vows. So bear yourself together and do as I say. We will wear no fancy clothes and behave ourselves like slaves.”
If sir Antuel had any more things to say, he kept them to himself. But later Hank went to him and comforted him as best he could.
-“Sir Antuel,” he said, “I know Edwald can be rude at times. Yet I assure you, he always mean well. He was brave enough to risk his life and save sir Hans from the loosing his head, and for that alone he is worthy of some respect. As for his thoughts on slaves, you should not blame him for not knowing our ways, for he has been raised by a man who had been a thrall himself, so ‘tis only natural to guess that he’d have disdain for chains. Alas, it would be foolish of me not to admit that I loath them as well. In my time with him, I have learnt that even men bound by bonds are men nonetheless, and have done little to deserve the cruelty they have come to bear. Freemen or not we are all the same.”
-“You speak as one who has known that pain,” said sir Antuel unwilling to give way to his reasoning, “Mayhap, Edwald has bewitched you too into thinking as him. Yet his lies have no power in me, I will not believe what he says.”
-“Nay, I lie under no spell,” Hank replied, “But I have indeed known that pain myself, for as we crossed the River Mirn to come and rescue you from the spell of elves, we had to pose as slaves and mingle among them. Then I had a taste of the whip’s bitter embrace, and though little time I shared in their struggle to know its full extent, I cannot begin to fathom what it must feel like to spend a whole life in chains, ever afraid of scourge and flail. As for Edwald, there should be no worries of him beguiling you, for you have heard it from the elves themselves; he is the Wielder of Truth, and no lies he can tell.”
Edwald had overheard this talk, and however soothing Hank’s words might have been, he could not help himself from thinking there was little truth to them, for many lies he had told before, especially to those he loved the most and ever did the memories of those lies haunted him, even long after he had thought to have left them behind, and the Games of the Mind only helped him revisit them. In these thoughts he dwelt until come the night and while his comrades slept, his heart was troubled still, and the legacy of his lies kept him awake well beyond the first hours of the morrow.
Upon the noon of the second day since leaving the woods, Edwald and his fellowship left their hardware behind and put on the guise of low-born travellers to better mix with ordinary folk. Hank did as before and wore the king’s banner as clothes under his cape, for he would not part from it, since he had been charged with its keeping. Edwald had a similar feeling towards his chain-mail, for it was made of Nurgiron and it had a value greater than other ores, so he buried it underground to not let it be found by common men. Then there was question of his shield, the one lord Carathuel had gifted him; Edwald had no love for him, but it was nonetheless a piece of heirloom he should not forsake, for it had belonged to King Aurio himself, and too great a worth it had from which to part ways. He gave it to sir Hans instead, who, owing to his great size and broad shoulders, could carry the shield on his back, hid beneath his cloak without anyone noticing.
Asadue had carried neither gold nor fancy clothes, only his books and journals in the bag, and though at the time they seemed of little worth, they would become far more precious than anything else they had in store—except perhaps for the sword Oakenjaw—,for without his journals much of this tale would have never been told in such detail. When it came to sir Antuel, he donned plain but costly clothes, though after much time in the woods and lying cold on the ground, they no longer seemed so noble, instead he looked humble. Yet there was something about him, from which he would not part; a silver ring in his finger, that bore the arms of his house. He thought it was, aside from his brother’s cloak, which he had offered to the elves, the last heirloom he was bequeathed, and it served him as a token whereby to remember his family, so there was no question of him leaving it behind.
And so the five men came to the village with the castle rising tall to their right. There only few lived, since, after the late lord Elreck took the burg, many abodes had been burnt down and little time and resources had been spent to rebuild the town. The people of Fitz were gloomy and poor, for most dwelt in the streets and had no home, and those who could afford a roof under which to lodge, were slave-traders from Hebrom and Fyore. But their thralls had no such comfort; they slept either in the stalls or lined up about their master’s doors. Aside from slaves and beggars, there were some guards in the village, though only a handful was seen in the marketplace, most of them stayed inside the castle’s walls or kept watch at the gates, so the five men were not so troubled by them.
Though there were not many people faring the streets, those that were whispered news about that told of a growing thread in the north that loomed a prelude for war, to which Edwald could not help but drop an ear.
-“The Black Knight has been busy lately, gossip says” said many an unwary tongue here and there, “It seems his numbers grow by the day, and he has already struck his sword near the Pass of Hel. They say his hosts have taken the burg Rynast, and within the third night also Kamsta fell to him, mark my words, Kylasyam will be next. So in no time the lord in Fyore will muster his bannermen to meet with him in battle. Be sure to store enough food, should another war be on our doorstep!”
Edwald knew the man whereof they spoke, and he grieved in his heart that his brother, Carédock, would be first to start a war. The weight of this report brought forth a wave of shock, disbelief, and deep concern, all intertwined with a sense of fear and sadness. Above all, Edwald's concern was for Carédock's safety. He feared that his brother's impulsive deeds would lead him down a perilous path, putting his own life at risk. Should he die in battle, he would not only mourn a brother, but the ties of his mother and other brothers would further estrange themselves from him, and whatever he wished to accomplish bringing him back to Ceor, would mean nothing if he did not reach him first. The thought of Carédock facing the horrors of war filled Edwald with dread and dispair and he worried that his brother's lack of experience in battle would leave him vulnerable to the armies of the Black Griffin, should he go to meet him in the north.
Edwald feared this and more, but dwelling on this thought would not help him get to him, so he remembered the task at hand and kept his thoughts to himself.
He and his fellowship went hither and thither asking the slaves if they could join them. Yet, few believed they bore no ill will, for a strange thing it was to hear that free men would wish to share their chains, so most groaned at them or shunned them altogether, fearing they went about their way making jokes about their misery. It wasn’t until a woman, who seemed to have once been a serf, recognised Edwald and some of his men that they were taken seriously and that they meant no jest. The woman ran towards Edwald with a joyous face and seeing again the man who had broken her chains—though at the moment unbeknownst to him—filled her heart with hope and faith.
-“Bless me! It is you!” she said bowing down to him, “You may not know me face, but I know yours, for some time ago, back in Belém, you and some of your men hid among slaves to cross the Mirn. I was once a slave myself, yet thanks to you I am now free to think and live. Though much blood was shed when you broke my bonds, it seems a fitting price to pay for me freedom. What brings you hither? Have you come to do the same as you did back then?”
-“O, how I wish it could be so, my goodwoman!” answered Edwald, “Alas, my errand is another. We intend to cross the lake and for that we must mingle among slaves, just the same like in Belém, yet now there is a bounty on our heads, for the things we did for you back then did not beget us much fame among the watchmen. I fear that the more bondsmen we try to set free, the sooner they will catch us. So sadly, I won’t be doing any of that for the time being.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
The poor woman seemed dishearted, but her hope was not yet dead. She looked at Edwald and though his words were not what she craved to hear, she could understand him.
-“You’ve done enough already,” she said, “It may not be that you shall break all chains, but what little lives you’ve spared the whip grow hopeful again, that betters days are ahead. I am sorry to say that I can’t help you in your present need, for the slaves in Fitz are not so keen to talking to strangers, and they will not speak even to me. Since I am of no use in this, allow me to welcome you into me home—or at least what is left of it. I have food enough to feed you and your men, and there you can rest until you know where to go next.”
Edwald gladly accepted her offer and they all followed her to the ruins of a house outside the village. It seemed to once have been a humble abode, small yet cozy, and the fruits of Elreck’s war were seen there; its wall were ashen-black and the roof was for the most part crumbled down, so that inside there was huge spot in the middle of the hall, filled with snow that filtered in through the ceiling’s hole. The woman lit a hearth whereabove a kettle was hung with which she cooked a stew made of the meager food she could get her hands upon.
-“It might not be much,” she said, “But it’ll be enough to get you warm.”
Edwald and his fellow men thanked the woman for the stew and though to sir Antuel it was not of his taste, he found hard to reject what little she had to give, for though she had been a slave, and otherwise he would have looked down on her, he could not help but be moved by her kindness and charity, not least of all from someone who had not a great deal to offer.
-“‘Tis I nice soup,” he said, though he did not meant it.
-“O you needn’t lie to me, young man,” she said, “I do not like the taste either, though it gets the job done, and by the end I’m always well-fed. Cooking was never me strength. Me husband, he was the true cook. He baked the most flavoursome berrypies and roasted the very best pork. Alas, the Gods have taken him away from me; to a place whither only death may bring me.”
-“I am sorry to hear that,” said sir Antuel, knowing not what else to say.
-“What is your name, if I may so bold,” asked Edwald.
-“You may,” she answered, “the name is Eridda, and me husband’s was Edrik.”
-“Those are not Grayth names,” said Edwald, “Where are you from and how come you hither lands?”
-“Aye, we were not from these parts,” she replied, “Me husband and I came from Hannosya, the lands north to the King’s Mountain. But we were bought as slaves by a wealthy merchant from these lands. This house belonged once to me master ere he sold us to another trader in the Chain Exchange. There the fates were cruel to me, for me husband and children were forced to part ways from me, since they were sold instead to other men. When the tides changed and you told us back in Belém we were no longer slaves, I came back to this town while the others did as you bid and travelled to the south. Knowing not where else to go, I returned to this house and hoped beyond all doubts that here I would find me loved-ones. Alas, me upset was great when I discovered that the house was in ruins and no soul lingered here either of those who shared my bonds or the ones I used to serve, for both had forsook this place and I was left alone again to roam the empty rooms of this abode I dared to call home.”
-“If little you knew of your family’s whereabout,” asked sir Antuel, who was now touched by pity upon hearing this, “Why come to the place where you had been a slave?”
-“I do not know what power moved me hither,” said Eridda, “But if it wasn’t hope to meet with the ghosts of my family, at least it must have been fate that willed that I should find you and helped you as I could.”
-“What does your heart tell you?” asked Edwald, “Does it say they might have died or that they are so far off that you cannot know if the still live?”
-“Me heart has not yet given up hope,” Eridda said, “Yet it often tricks me into believing the worst has come to pass. So now, all I am left with is doubt and so far it has proved to be worse than a whip’s lash.”
-“Surely, you do not mean it.” said Edwald, who saw in her his own mother, lady Aveline, whose affliction was alike hers in missing his brother Carédock.
-“Of course, I do.” replied Eridda, “Me master was by no means a kind man. he’d slash me eldest, Odric, if he’d take a break from reaping his farm, and would kick me youngest, Urid, in the head just for a laugh, and I was punished worst of all if his bath was not ready for him when he’d come back to the house. All that pain I would gladly cope with if it meant that I could see me brood one more time.”
Upon hearing this, sir Antuel was moved and felt great pity towards Eridda, for to sacrifice her own freedom and endure such harsh a life, in order to meet with her family again, was a price he too would be willing to pay, if so he could spare his own from having been slain. But this he kept to himself, for now he admired her brave heart, and even deemed himself unworthy to speak to her.
-“Nevermind that now,” she said, “You may have too grand a task ahead of you to listen to the struggle and wail of a mother and wife. You said you wish to cross the Nullen Lake. How can I be of help?”
-“You honour us with your tale,” said Edwald ever graceful, “I promise you, we all share in your grief. But it is true that we have a quest at hand. As I said, our plan was to mingle among slaves so as to cross the lake.”
-“That will be no good, I am afraid,” said Eridda, “Trust-worthy slaves are hard to come by in these lands, and the masters all know their names by heart. Yet I know a smuggler in town that may be down for that kind of job. He’d willing to ship you and your lot across the lake. His name is Alen and he’s half deaf, but with enough coin you can be sure he’ll listen with three ears what you want from him. For now let us rest and early in the morning, when the watch is not on duty, I’ll take you to him.”
And so they said no more, they finished their stew and went straight to sleep, yet no dreams they found, for the night was cold and their beds were mere piles of wheet and blankets about the dying embers of the hearth. Come the morrow before the cock’s crowing, they left the house and headed for the town. On their way there, sir Antuel saw the slaves he had met before under a new light, they shivered in the streets while their masters rested untroubled inside. And for each wealthy man, dwelling alone in his hall were three families that had to wait in the cold.
They came to the village market and, save the homeless beggars that had spent the whole night outside; there were only a handful of people minding their daily business. The five men, led by Eridda passed by the market and went to the wharves. There many boats and vessels were moored, most were tall and rugged and they seemed to have been built with skill as if not intended to steam neither river nor lake, yet rather to sail the open sea, for they were not native to Fitz, but came instead from Berecy*(1) and other harbours of greater esteem. None of those ships were meant for them, though less money they would have spent if they had paid for cruising on any of them, then again, had they taken one of those, they must have given their names and answered questions that they could better do without.
The goodwife Eridda—or widow, if the fates had been cruel indeed—led them past those wharves to a humble hithe, thereon lay a large wooden boat that seemed dwarfed next to the tall vessels from the far off havens whence they came. Upon the deck slept a plain featured man; his hairs were grey and his clothes were brown. That man was the smuggler she had spoke about and he seemed as if he had sailed those waters more often than any other seafarer in the town.
-“Hullo, dear Alen, and wake up, the sun’s back!” she said, doing her best to raise the mariner.
-“Let me sleep,” he said, still with his eyes close, “The cock has not sung yet.”
-“‘Tis I, Eridda,” she said “I have brought you a job, and a good one at that.”
-“Forget it, woman,” he replied, “Work time begins at noon, the guards said. So, don’t bother me now.”
The man was rude and the task of waking him up seemed twice as hard as was raising sir Antuel from his dream in Locht Nelbáris. But then Eridda whispered something to his ear and like an arse burnt with a red rod, he jumped into his feet.
-“Alright, alright” he said, “show me the coin and I’ll do as you bid. It’ll cost you twelve Crosses to get you across the lake, it’ll be twice that with no questions asked, and thrice as much if I am to ask no names. No coin, no wherry.”
As soon as he said this, Edwald realised that he had no money in their purse and they had all either spent their gold already or left it behind to not be told apart. Presently, Eridda turned to them and said.
-“Whatever’s the matter?” she asked, “I told you it would not be a fair price, yet at least he is in for a bribe.”
-“We haven’t any money in our pockets,” Hank said, “We were supposed to mingle slaves, so we left anything of worth behind. We cannot go back to fetch them now, it’ll be too odd if we come a second a time.”
-“I am sure you have got some fancy wear about,” she implied, “A necklace or a silver knife?”
-“Nay, to all of that we have said goodbye,” Sir Hans said, “We’ve buried them half a day away from here. But I still have your shield, master Edwald. I am sure it’ll be more than enough to pay the man.”
-“Nonsense, sir,” Edwald answered, “It was a gift, it might be worth more than the whole town, and even if we were to give him that, it’ll be queer for a common man to bear such lavish a shield. Surely, the watch will think he stole it, then questions will be asked and be he threatened with steel he will tell them all about us and lead them our way.”
-“What about your sword?” asked the woman and all said Nay to that.
-“This sword is more than just a weapon, my goodwoman,” he said, “It has been of great help thus far, and more it may do for us yet.”
-“Well if it is neither sword nor shield, you’ve better find something else quick,” she said, “For Alen does nothing for free and no kind words will sway him to our side, not if they don’t come with a bung. What about that ring in your finger, young man?” she said pointing at sir Antuel.
-“This ring?” he said doing his best to look buffled, “‘Tis not even gold, I don’t think it will be worth much.” Of course this he did not mean, for he was attached to that ring, and to give it up as mere payment to a smuggler was not something he was willing to do.
-“It might not be gold,” she said, “But ‘tis shiny enough to trick his eyes. Give Alen that and you can rest assure that within the day, you shall be off these shores.”
-“I cannot give him my ring!” sir Antuel said, “I too have lost my family, my goodwoman, and this is the only thing I’ve got left to remember them by.”
-“Look at me, young man” she said in a tender voice, “What do I own to remember mine? I have neither finery nor holdings. My very clothes are what little garms I could get my hands upon and still you cannot tell me that because I possess no token of them, you loved your brood more than I did mine own. Edric, Odric, Meldda, Frydda and Urid, names are all I have, names are all I keep. A king might loose a son, but he will not grieve more than a farmer that suffers from the same loss. We might be born in places unalike, yet at the end of day, there is no token in the world that can trump the worth of names that might be mourned in the hearts of men. So don’t let earthly stuff bind you to them, they are no longer in this world, they live in the next; the only token they have to remember you by is a name, so do the same and remembers theirs.”
There was a time when sir Antuel saw Eridda beneath him for being a slave and, most certainly, he deemed her unable to give such a touching speech. But now the prejudice wherewith he had been born was gone and he was moved again by her soothing words. He found her telling to be true and the best way to keep his family alive was honouring their names and not withholding tokens of them. It might have also been that he thought he had no where else to turn. If he followed back his way to Fyore, the Black Griffin’s men would catch him and have him dead, so the only way to go was the one that led to his kinsman, lord Tyen, and the path to him lay beyond the lake. At any rate, he gave his ring to Eridda and she turned again to the smuggler Alen.
-“Here you have it,” she said, “It might not be coin, but, I assure you, this ring is tenfold its worth.” That might not have been true, yet none spoke against it and the smuggler marvelled at such a price, for it was finer than any hoard he might have thought of.
-“Very well, sirs,” he said, unable to keep his eyes from that ring, “All seems to be in order, so get now on board.” But as they got on deck, he noticed a swarthy man was among them.
-“And what about this slave?” he said, “shall I count him as cargo or another passanger?”
-“Asadue is a free man,” Elbracht said daring the man.
-“Is he now?” answered the mariner, “Are you one of those folks that got free in Belém. Many stories have found their way hither shores, so I take you might be one of them.”
-“We paid you handsomely, old man,” Edwald said, “and you have better keep your nose out of our business, if you know what’s well.”
-“Alright, young man,” master Alen replien, “I don’t mean any disrespect. It’s just that it surely is an odd thing, to see a slave travelling among such men as yourselves.”
Without saying anything else, and hesitating no longer, they went aboard the boat and left the hithe. In their hurry, they even forgot to thank the woman for all what she did—not that it bothered her—for in her heart she was glad to help the man who had broken her bonds, so she bid them farewell, waving her hand and from afar the five men, in gratitude, did likewise. All went well, and for a moment they thought that the worst was behind, for the skies cleared out and no dreary cloud shadowed the path ahead. Until a breeze blew from the west that brought the gales of a storm, for on the shore of Fitz a throng of guards gathered around the goodwoman Eridda and seemed to ask her why she was in the wharves so early in the morning. She did her best not let them draw attention to the lake, but then one of the guards spotted them from afar and whistled at the boat, so as to call them back to shore.
-“What’s that noice?” asked the smuggler who rowed facing the east, with the town behind.
-“‘Tis nothing, only the wind” said Hank, knowing that if they were to turn back, they would surely risk being called out. So none stood to correct him, not even Edwald.
The half-deaf man heeded their lie and rowed on ever away from Fitz. The last thing they got to see on the shore was Eridda taken away by the watch. Sir Hans was sure that she would be harshly questioned to get the truth out of her on what she had done. Sir Antuel was saddest of all, for in the short time they spent with her, he had grown fond of her company. In her last words to him, he had found more solace than he had ever found with the elves, and that she should suffer or die in the hopes that she could help him in their task was for him too sorry a reward for her kindness and brave heart. Nevertheless, his thoughts did not change the boat’s course and soon Fitz—both the burg and the town—became but a shadow afar, and whenever his mind returned to that place, he could no longer remember the stories his uncle, the Old Golden Crow, told him in his youth. Only her face and name he kept in memory and the price of her sacrifice.
As for the fate of Eridda, little records are kept of what befell her thereon, save one. Therein, it is said that she was brought to the dungeons of the castle of Fitz, where the truth of her deeds was scourged out of her. Within half a fortnight, reports of her helping five rough men reached the Gryphnest in Fyore, and there lord Carathuel was informed of it. At first, he did not give much heed to it, for he was troubled by the news that the Black Knight had taken several burgs in the north. But when he was told that the men that she helped matched the accounts of the three men that were behind the slaughter at the Mirn, and that the King’s Knight that had been brought to the gallows in Hebrom before being rescued by the same men, was travelling with them, the Black Griffin worked out that said company must have been no other than lord Elbracht and his fellowship.
What truly puzzled him was the rendition of the fifth man; a young, slender lad of golden hair and gloomy outlook that fared along with Elbracht and his men. At the time, his courtiers did not put much thought into it. Yet, lord Carathuel feared that this man could be his cousin, sir Antuel, whom he had pronounced dead. Should the whisper spread its wings that lord Hadril’s rightful heir still lived, it would mean the end of his power games and given that lord Elbracht was the leader of the company wherewith he fared, he deduced that he had already told him what he had declared before the noblemen of Fyore, that it was himself who had schemed the butchering of his family. The Black Griffin worried that Elbracht was leading the truthful heir to the lands of his kinsman, lord Tyén, in Myrlost. Were he ever to reach that city, he would have a safe haven, out of his grip, many other lords would stand behind him and a larger part of his own armies would fling to his side.
But, lord Carathuel was a cunning man by nature, and he always had an extra card under his sleeve that he thought he would only play if the worst had come to pass. The Night Ernes was an order of knights that had been outlawed by lord Hadril some years ago, for they were known as ruthless mercenaries that had caused more trouble than they did any good once they were hired. Lord Carathuel was read in their histories and deemed them best suited for the job he had in store, and a dreary business it was. He paid them to murder sir Antuel, so that in his death, no other lord may stand against his claim. This they would do in the shadows, however, for such a task could not be known to the men of his court, lest it would cost him his throne.