The Summer's King (12 page)

“Were the others
not
beautiful?” inquired Seyl of Hodd in an undertone.

“Each of these maidens has her own qualities, Lord Seyl,” replied Nenad seriously.

“On the southern plains,” he pursued, “there is indeed a dearth of daughters in the great families, but if we move nearer to Achamar, we find a lady who fulfills all hopes. I mean of course Lorn Gilyan, the Heir of Chernak.”

There was an uneasy silence.

Sharn Am Zor cleared his throat and said, “The lady is my true friend, I hope.”

Aidris, the queen, could not repress a sigh. Still the list went on, corresponding with her own. The greatest prize in the land of Athron was a certain Baroness Ault, a battlemaid, who had fought in the late conflict with Mel'Nir as the esquire of her kinsman, Sir Jared Wild of Wildrode, but she had been spoken for half a year past by Prince Terril of Varda.

Bajan laughed and looked at the queen.

“The prince had always a weakness for battlemaids,” he said.

“Go along with you,” said Aidris, blushing a little as she bent over her list.

Nenad Am Charn moved on into the Mark of Lien, where women were famed for their beauty, but even here there were no more than three or four families who could hope to wed their daughters to a king of the Chameln. He spoke of the twin sisters of Duke Hallem of Denwick and his brother Denzil, Rose and Anne-Rose of Denwick, sixteen years old. Merilla and her brother laughed aloud.

“What, the twins?” asked the king. “We used to tease them in the schoolroom at Alldene. Have they lost their baby fat, Merilla?”

“Yes,” said Merilla, “but they are still a pair of silly geese.”

“In the family of Grays,” said Nenad, “there is a daughter of the younger son, one Zelline of Grays. She is a beauty and attends her cousin, the Markagrafin Zaramund.”

“No,” said Sharn Am Zor, shortly. “Out of the question.”

“Is it a matter of pre-contract?” inquired Nenad. “I have heard a rumor that she will be given to the Duke of Chantry.”

“Zelline is a splendid girl,” said the king, “but as a queen . . . I mean, she is not . . .”

“She has been too long at the court in Balufir,” put in Lingrit Am Thuven helpfully.

Now the king seemed to blush a little, but it may have been only the firelight.

Nenad Am Charn, coming to the end of his list, made mention of a princess of Mel'Nir. There could be no question of an alliance with the Duarings, he said, but Ghanor, the so-called Great King, had one grandchild, eighteen years old, Princess Gleya, called “the unmarked child,” the daughter of the Princess Merse and Kirris Hanran, the general defeated at the Adderneck Pass.

“Goddess forbid,” said the Countess Caddah, who had suffered at the hands of the Mel'Nir landlords in the south. “They are surely the blood enemies of the Daindru.”

“Yet it might have been otherwise,” murmured Aidris. “Suppose the Lady Elvédegran of Lien had lived or had borne a living child, a son, a giant warrior prince, to Gol of Mel'Nir.. . .”

She broke off, and Nenad took up his list again.

“We must move over the western sea, my king, for the last and, some say, the loveliest of all high-born maidens. We must speak of Eildon, and of the family of your royal grandsire, Prince Edgar Pendark.”

“Speak on, Count Charn,” said Sharn Am Zor softly. “Tell us of Eildon, of the Eildon blood that we inherit, and of the family called Pendark.”

Aidris looked at the young king in surprise and at her own list again. As Nenad began to speak, everyone listened closely, as if the very name of Eildon had cast a spell upon them.

“The Pendark lands,” he said, “lie in the southwest of Eildon, a rich and beautiful inheritance of which bards have sung from old time until this day. When Edgar Pendark crossed the seas to wed Guenna of Lien, he left behind two brothers and a sister, all older than himself and with families of their own. It might have been thought that fortune had smiled upon the Pendarks. Yet all was changed in the space of a few years. Prince Edgar, that comely and beloved young man, died of the sweating sickness before he was five and twenty. More than that, his brothers and sisters fell victim to accident and disease. A tournament took the life of the eldest, Prince Morr and his young son; the sister and her children died in the old water fortress of the Pendarks from a poisonous fever. So only the second son, Prince Kilnan, survived, and raised one son, Prince Thorm, who married twice. With the second lady, Merigaun Ap Llir, he had a son and daughter and died himself only a few years past. The family now consists of Prince Kilnan, relict of that time of misfortune, the aged great-uncle of the Daindru; his widowed daughter-in-law, Merigaun; and those two bright hopes of the house of Pendark, Prince Beren and and Princess Moinagh, who will one day divide all the lands between them, according to Eildon custom. Many hopes and wishes center upon these two: not only upon Prince Beren, a knight of the Order of the Fishers, but upon his sister. She is eighteen years old, born in the Birchmoon, and a being without fault if we are to believe the slight reports we have. She is your cousin, my King, and she is, moreover, the only princess of marriageable age in Eildon . . .”

“So you have placed her name upon the list,” said Sharn Am Zor.

“So have I, cousin,” said the queen.

“It is the only name I will hear!”

Jevon Seyl rose up from the long table where they were sitting, crossed to a press by the window and brought out a thick sheaf of parchment which he carried to the king.

“I have received this book from an old companion in Lien,” said Sharn eagerly. “It is a copy of a troth gift made by Hal of Denwick. As I read the poems addressed to Princess Moinagh and the descriptions of this dark, sweet girl, it came to me that I must ask for her hand.”

He stood up and spoke directly to the queen.

“Oh, Aidris, you will say that the way is too long, that it will take half the revenue of the Chameln lands to fetch her home, but I must attempt to win her! Do you not believe that I may be preferred, as King of the Chameln and as a cousin, to other suitors?”

The king stood in the candlelight holding his book. Those watching had seldom seen him so moved. There was in his question a kind of modesty. It took no account of those things that could win the heart of a young girl and that might weigh with her family. Sharn Am Zor was tall, straight, the height of manly beauty, and his charm overrode all the vagaries of his character. He was the Summer's King, and to all those watching he was at that moment an irresistible suitor.

“Eildon!”
said Aidris Am Firn.

Other voices echoed her cry. She saw the king's look of certainty and excitement. She knew that he would persuade them all, the Council, his own liegemen and women, the people of the Chameln lands. She had no thought to hold him back, only an inner fear. Was it simply a woman's fear, like a mother's for her child? She caught the eye of the Princess Merilla and wondered if the Eildon blood that they all shared had given her a warning, too.

“My King,” said Bajan, “you have been in danger lately. This journey far beyond the kingdom to find a bride must be undertaken step by step with particular care.”

“I will bear all,” said Sharn Am Zor. “I have set my heart on this marriage.”

Then Jevon Seyl gave the signal for refreshments to be brought in, for a pause in the proceedings. Aram Nerriot came in and played sweetly while they all ate and drank, working his magic upon the company. He played airs of Eildon and answered a few questions about the customs of his native country. There was an air of lively congratulations at the table, as if the king had already won his dark princess. Yet when Nenad Am Charn mentioned slyly to the Princess Merilla that Prince Beren Pendark was also of marriageable age, she laughed aloud.

“No, Count Charn,” she said without a blush, “do not add the poor prince to my list of suitors, for they were a sorry lot however high-born. You may depend upon it; if I marry, it will be a man of the Chameln lands.”

When the pleasantries were done, Lingrit Am Thuven was the first to comment seriously on the king's plan. The trusted advisor of Queen Aidris was a thin, refined, rheumatic man who had spent many years in Lien as Envoy. He knew Sharn Am Zor well, from the time he had come into Lien as an exiled prince, aged eleven. Lingrit had some knowledge of Eildon and had travelled once to the magic kingdom of the west when he was a young man. His approval was guarded.

“My King,” he said, “you must be prepared for a stiff and formal reception from those of high estate. And you must remember that the courts of Eildon know little of the Chameln lands. They will expect something of the order of Voyvid, The Wild Warrior King.”

“Strange,” said Sharn loftily, “that is rather how I see one rival of whom I have been told, the King of the Isles!”

“Lord Lingrit,” asked the Countess Caddah, “can you tell us from your knowledge of Eildon who will decide the match? Will it be the princess's widowed mother? Her grandfather, Prince Kilnan? The councils of the realm?”

“I cannot tell,” said Lingrit. “I would say all of these, plus the knightly orders and the religious colleges.”

“And the princess herself?” asked Aidris. “Could she express a preference?”

“Of course,” said Lingrit sadly, “but where in the world would a young girl of high estate be permitted to choose all by herself? Even here, where women have many rights, a princess of the blood would be . . . assisted.”

The Princess Merilla seemed about to speak but thought better of it.

Lingrit went on, “Your own marriage, my Queen, was arranged in your cradle.”

“The queen could have let the bond lapse when she was of age,” put in Bajan Am Nuresh drily. “She could have thrown me over . . .”

“I never thought of that,” said Aidris.

Bajan and the queen smiled at each other in perfect understanding. Seyl of Hodd was the next to speak.

“I have heard of tournaments, knightly games and strange vigils held in Eildon to decide many things, even the succession in noble families. Would the king take champions with him? Would there be limits set to the number of his followers?”

“By the size of his fleet of ships at least,” said Lingrit.

“Goddess preserve us,” said the Countess Caddah, shivering. “A journey over the western sea!”

“It has been done before,” put in Nenad Am Charn, “and in such a manner as surely to weigh with the rulers of Eildon if they set store by tradition. I speak of course of the Sea-Oak Twins, the Tamirdru, the Prince and Princess of Eildon who braved the seas in old time and came to Achamar to wed the Daindru.”

“I have thought of them,” said Sharn eagerly. “Are they creatures of legend? When did they come?”

Nenad Am Charn shook his head.

“I must search the scrolls more thoroughly,” he said, “and bring you the answer when next we meet, my King. We know too little of these ancient times.”

“We know too little of Eildon,” said Aidris, “but we have one friend in that land, and it is Prince Ross Tramarn. I spoke with him in Athron, at Kerrick Hall, and he brought comfort to me in exile. Count Zerrah, son of Lord Kerrick, went on his wedding journey with the Countess Sabeth to the Tramarn estates in Eildon. They found the country beautiful and the hospitality of the prince very warm. Perhaps the tales we hear of stiff formality and strange rituals are not true. I will send for the Messengers of Prince Ross and speak frankly with them of Dan Sharn's courthship.”

Sharn Am Zor said as lightly as he could: “You must use magic to fetch them.”

“They are magical creatures,” said Bajan, “as strange as the snow demons. I remember the time they found me in the mountains and brought me this ring from my dear queen, in exile. See, it is a black pearl, the ring of Tamir, the Sea-Oak Prince, according to Prince Ross, but how it returned to Eildon we do not know.”

The heavy silver ring, patterned with oak leaves and containing a splendid pearl, dark and lustrous, was passed from hand to hand.

“Perhaps it is a homing ring,” said the Countess Caddah, “like the homing cup of gold in another legend.”

Sharn Am Zor gazed into the black pearl before he returned the ring to Bajan.

“The Princess Moinagh is beautiful as this pearl,” he said, “and I will bring her home to Achamar.”

PART II

THE EILDON BRIDE

CHAPTER IV

MESSENGERS

It was more than fourteen days later, on a bright winter's morning at the end of the Tannenmoon, that the Messengers put in their appearance. The Daindru were walking together in the grounds of the palace of the Firn; at a distance Tazlo Am Ahrosh was building a snow goddess with Prince Sasko. Nila, the child's nurse, a woman from the northern tribes with black braids and bright cheeks, suddenly gave a cry. There in a grove of birch trees stood three persons wrapped in snow-colored cloaks. Aidris took Sharn by the hand.

“They have come,” she whispered. “Hold firm!”

The king saw that one of the Messengers was an old man with hawklike features and white hair; next to him stood a woman, tawny-haired, with a silvery glint to her complexion; and farther off a dark man with his hands resting on a wooden flute that hung on a thong about his neck. Slowly they approached the Daindru and bowed to them.

Aidris said, “Greetings to you and your companions, Master Dravyd!”

The old man bowed again and murmured their names: Nieva, the woman, and Gil, the dark man.

“Greetings to King Sharn, in the year of changes,” said Nieva, her voice strange and sweet, like bell-chimes.

“I have told you my reason for this summons,” said Aidris. “King Sharn Am Zor has heard of the Princess Moinagh Pendark, his cousin, and will sue for her hand. Will your master, Prince Ross Tramarn, help us in this matter?”

“The Prince sends a New Year greeting to the Daindru,” said Gil, the dark man. “This is our last errand in his service.”