The White Robe (27 page)

“Evening devotions?”

Allowyn nodded. “Yes, Tissian asked if I would share his devotions with him as he prepares for tomorrow.”

Jonderill looked down at his hands and felt his spirit drop even lower. “Isn’t there any way you can stop this?”

“No, and I wouldn’t even if I could. The only person who could stop tomorrow’s battle is you, by declaring Gellidan as your protector for the rest of your life, but I would advise against it. After what happened at the Enclave, this is likely to be Tissian’s one and only chance to become a protector, and if you took it away from him, I think it would destroy him.”

“Yes, I know. I saw his face when the High Master destroyed his armour and weapons. It was as if the world had ended and he’d lost his reason to live.”

“He was like that when I found him.” Jonderill looked up in surprise. “Do you recall the small pot boy from the Armsmaster Inn? Well, when the temple guards came for you, the innkeeper sent him to find Dozo.” Allowyn laughed and shook his head. “He’s only a little slip of a thing but he ran all the way from the inn to my camp. It took him half a day and he nearly collapsed when he got there, but he told Dozo that you were in trouble and I returned with him to the Enclave to see what could be done.

“You’d left with Gellidan by then and from the story Master Tressing gave me, I understood that you’d been paired with your protector, and had left of your own free will. It was too late to return to camp so I decided to stay for the night at the Enclave, and went to find Tissian to see why he hadn’t reported for penance that day. When I couldn’t find him I persuaded one of the acolytes to tell me where he was. After that I searched the cells until I found him.”

Allowyn shook his head and paused for a moment while he pulled on his clean shirt. “He was just sitting there with his eyes blank, and when I asked him what was wrong, all he could do was to ask me to take his life for the goddess.” Jonderill looked at him questioningly. “It’s a kindness, which is used to end the suffering of a protector who is too badly injured to fight again, or one who has failed to protect their master and cannot live with their shame. I told him that before I could do that, we had to share one last devotion together. That seemed to break through his misery and we left the Enclave together.”

“Didn’t anyone try to stop you?”

“There were some temple guards who challenged us and who will be out of action for a few days, but it’s very difficult to stop a protector when they want to leave. Anyway, we rode back to camp and somewhere in the middle of our devotions he broke down, and told me what had happened. I told him that he was ten times a fool for breaking into the temple, and you were even worse for encouraging him, and then we gathered the men, packed up the camp and came after you.”

“It’s a pity you did, then at least Tissian would live beyond tomorrow.”

“Don’t give up on him Jonderill, he may be younger and less experienced than Gellidan, but his faith in you and the goddess is boundless.”

“Faith is a poor substitute for a longer reach and good weapons.”

“Tissian’s agility will make up for his lack of reach, and his devotions tonight were done with the weapons you gave him, so he knows their feel and balance.” Jonderill looked sceptical. “Well, alright, imbalance, but they are good weapons in their own way, and they were a gift from you which makes a difference.”

“One’s short heavy and blunt, and the other is long and thin, and will snap if Gellidan hits it too hard.”

Allowyn shrugged. “At least knives are not a problem. You took Gellidan’s knives from his body and haven’t returned them and until you do they belong to you and he cannot use them.”

“Could I give them to Tissian instead?”

“No, or at least you can’t whilst Gellidan is still alive. It would be showing favouritism and would shame them both.”

Jonderill shook his head. “I don’t understand this strange code of yours; it’s alright to kill your brother as long as you follow the rituals.”

Allowyn frowned and went to say something else, but was interrupted by Dozo and his assistant holding out bowls of steaming stew and hot flatbread. They took the food and started to eat. “It could do with some meat in it,” commented Jonderill as he searched amongst the vegetables.”

“It’s another of our rituals,” laughed Allowyn. “No meat for those who will just stand and witness single combat; all the meat goes to those who fight. Jonderill looked at him in surprise, his spoon suspended half way to his mouth. “And no wine, ale or spirits are to be taken either.”

“I bet that prevents a lot of fights taking place.”

They both laughed and continued eating in companionable silence. After they had finished their meal, Dozo brought them herb tea, whilst around them, those who were not on guard duty collected bed rolls and settled down for the night around the fire.

“When we talked last Jonderill, you hadn’t decided what you wanted to be. Have you made that decision now; I would hate for one or both of those young men to die tomorrow for nothing.”

Jonderill nodded. “I don’t think I have much choice in the matter. It seems that since going into the goddess’s sanctuary I’m unable to touch a sword without feeling dizzy and sick, and I can’t rely on branches crashing down to save my life every time someone attacks me. If others are willing to fight and die for me, the least I can do is try to be what they expect me to be.”

“And will you work hard to be the best magician you can be?”

“Yes, I will try hard, but I’m not sure how good I will ever be.”

“Good. I’ve heard that Callabris has returned from Tarbis so that after the fight is over, we will ride to meet him. If Gellidan dies tomorrow, neither the High Master nor Vorgret will be pleased, so I don’t think Essenland will be a safe place for any of us for a while. Now I must go and give my counsel to the two combatants, and you must get some sleep. Tomorrow one of them becomes the six kingdom’s newest protector and you the six kingdom’s newest white robe.”

*

Jonderill woke before dawn, at that time when the sky is dark but the silhouette of trees and hills can just be seen. He wasn’t the first to rise; a cauldron of water was already heating over the fire and Allowyn stood with his back to Jonderill, warming his hands. Jonderill rolled up his blankets and walked past the protector to where the shelter had been erected. It hadn’t rained in the night, but the dew had been , and the taut waxed linen was covered in tiny globes of moisture. He placed his blankets next to the other three and picked up his roll of belongings. It felt light and insubstantial without Plantagenet’s old blade thrust through the middle. He walked past the picket line, giving Sansun an affectionate pat, and followed the sounds of running water.

When he returned, he shaved off the light growth of stubble, combed his hair, tied it back with a leather thong, and he wore his white robe. He returned his roll of possessions to the shelter and joined Allowyn by the fire.

“No devotions this morning?”

“No, Gellidan and Tissian are eager to die, so as soon as the sun shows itself above the hills they will fight, and then we will be on our way.”

“Where will they fight?”

“Here in the camp. We will clear it the best that we can and put markers down for a fighting ring, but the fire remains lit until it’s finished. Dozo may need it to cauterise the wounds and Tissian has asked for his body to be cremated if the fight goes against him.”

Allowyn looked up at the sky which had changed from black to dark blue. In the east the sky was lighter and the details of the distant hills were starting to appear. Behind them the camp was waking, and some of the men were already eating the remains of last night’s flatbread and hard cheese. At the picket line the horses were being led away in twos and threes to be watered, and those that returned were being taken out of the camp area to feed on fresh grass.

Jonderill watched as the camp was cleared away, and Dozo organised the removal of the stones around the fire to a perimeter around the inside edge of the camp. Those armsmen who were not tending the horses took up their positions between the stone markers. They all knew the two combatants and their faces were grim. When everything was in place, Dozo collected the cauldron of steaming water from the fire and carried it to where his medical kit was carefully laid out.

The first rays of the sun tipped over the distant hills turning the streamers of cloud blood red. “It is time,” said Allowyn, giving Jonderill a small smile. Jonderill nodded and followed him to the edge of the marked area.

Gellidan was the first to arrive, his two swords crossed at his back and the overlapping plates of his bronze armour gleaming in the sunlight. Tissian followed behind, a hand shorter than his opponent and dressed only in a half-sleeved shirt, leather jerkin and breeches. He carried his two mismatched swords at his side and shook slightly as he came to stand next to Gellidan. Both of them bowed low to Jonderill and Allowyn, and the protector stepped forward.

“By the honour vested in me by the goddess I speak for Jonderill, white robe of the six kingdoms and beloved of Federa. Today, in this ring, you fight for the right to be paired with this white robe. It is a fight to the death using only those weapons that you both hold. To the victor will go a life of servitude, honouring and protecting their master with no thought for themselves until death parts them. To the loser, there is only oblivion. Do you understand the choices before you?”

Allowyn looked at each in turn and both briefly bowed. “If you, Tissian, wish to withdraw your challenge and walk away from this place with your weapons unblooded, there would be no dishonour in the eyes of the goddess.” He waited for a response, but Tissian just shook his head. “Then let it begin.”

He stepped back and Gellidan and Tissian briefly bowed to each other.

“You should have taken him up on his offer,” whispered Gellidan. “Now I’m going to cut you into small pieces and watch them burn on your funeral pyre.”

He pulled his two huge swords and strode confidently into the marked area. Tissian followed him, gripping his swords tightly. His hands were firm and the nervousness he’d felt only moments before had left him. This was his first real battle facing an enemy who wanted to kill him, not just defeat him, and he knew that the odds were against him. However, if it was to be his last battle, he would make sure that those who witnessed it, would tell their children and their children’s children how well Tissian the protector had fought for his honour.

He rolled his shoulders to ease the tension in them and inspected the edges of his blades one last time. The long, thin blade was sharp and deadly, but despite the hours he’d spent with a whetstone the old iron blade was still dull and would be better used as a club than a sword. He gave his opponent a brief salute across the marked area, but Gellidan just stood in an attacking stance with the morning sun reflecting off the razor sharp edges of his two matching swords. If looking the part could win a battle, then Gellidan was already the victor.

When Allowyn’s command came to begin, Gellidan came at Tissian with all the speed he had expected and he barely had time to raise his blades in defence before Gellidan’s swords crashed into his. The impact of the blades made his long sword buzz like a trapped insect, but the other held his attacker’s swords back until he could disengage. Tissian studied Gellidan in his full bronze armour looking for a weakness but he knew there would be none. The only way he could defeat him would be to break through his armour at the joints, where he would be vulnerable, or to strike a crippling blow to his legs.

Gellidan pressed another attack and Tissian parried again and again. He stayed light on his feet trying to circle around behind his opponent, but with his longer reach, one of Gellidan’s swords were always there battering at him from one side and then the other. His arms were getting tired with the constant pounding, and sweat ran down them making his grip on the long sword slippery, despite the leather he had wound around the hilt the previous evening.