Erik stood. I will need to spend some extra time with Nathan, letting him know what I can do, and finding out what he wishes me to do. I think youre right: hes a good man. He could have sent me packing, but hes trying to do right by me, I think.
Impulsively, Freida threw her arms around her sons neck, hugging him closely. I love you, my son, she whispered.
Erik stood motionless, uncertain how to respond. She spared him the need by letting go and turning quickly into the kitchen, shutting the door behind her.
Erik stood a moment, then slowly turned and moved toward the barn.
As the months passed, things fell into a routine at the Inn of the Pintail. Nathan blended in quickly, and after a while it was hard to recall what the inn had been like with Tyndal as smith. Erik found his new master a fount of information, as much of what Tyndal had taught him had been basic, solid smithing but Nathan knew much that made the work above-average, even exceptional. His knowledge of the different requirements for weapons and armor opened a new area for Erik, for Nathan had been the Baron Tolburts own armorer in Tulan at one time.
One day the sound of hooves upon cobbles caused Erik to look up from where he held a hot plow blade Nathan was hammering for a local farmer. The slender figure of Owen Greylock, the Barons Swordmaster, appeared as he rode his mount around the barn from the rear court of the inn.
Nathan took away the blade and plunged it into water, then set it aside as Erik came to stand next to the horse, holding her bridle as Greylock dismounted.
Swordmaster! said Erik. Shes not lame again, is she?
No, said Owen, indicating that Erik should see for himself.
Erik ran his hand along the horses left foreleg as Nathan approached, then motioned the youngster to stand aside. Nathan examined the horses leg. This is the horse you told me of?
Erik nodded.
You say it was this suspensor tendon, was it?
Greylock looked on with approval as Erik said, Yes, Master Smith. She had pulled it slightly.
Slightly! said Greylock. He had an angular face, made even more stern by a severe hairstyle high bangs, with most of the rest cut straight around the nape of his neck which split into a smile, serving to make him even more unattractive, for his teeth were uneven and yellowing. Totally blown, I should say, Master Smith. Puffed up to the size of my thigh, and the mare could barely stand to put weight on it. I thought Id have to send for the knackers, for certain. But Erik had a way, and Id seen his work before, so I gave him the chance and he didnt disappoint. Shaking his head in mock astonishment, he said, Slightly. The lads too modest for his own good.
What did you do? Nathan asked Erik.
I wrapped her leg in hot compresses at first. Theres a drawing salve the healing priest at the Temple of Killian makes that makes your skin feel hot. I used that on her leg. I hand-walked her and wouldnt let her pull again, even if she got rammy. Shes spirited and wanted to bolt more than once, but I put a stud chain over her nose and let her know Id have none of it. Erik reached over and patted the mare on the nose. We became pretty fair friends.
Nathan stood and shook his head, obviously impresssed. For the four months Ive been here, Swordmaster, Ive been hearing of this lads skill with horses. Some of it I took to be local pride felt by his friends. Turning to Erik, he smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. I dont say this lightly, lad. Perhaps you should put aside your apprenticeship as a smith and turn your hand to healing horses. I am self-admitted indifferent in healing animals, though I will put my shoeing work up against any mans, but even I can see this horse is completely sound, as if she had never been injured.
Erik said, Its a useful skill, and I like to see the horses healthy, but theres no guild
Nathan was forced to agree. True enough. A guild is a mighty fortress and can shelter you when no amount of skill can save you from he suddenly remembered the Barons Swordmaster was standing a few feet away many unexpected ends.
Erik smiled. He knew what the smith had been about to say had to do with the long-standing rivalry between the nobility and the guilds. Started as a means to certify workmen and guarantee a certain minimum standard of skill, the guilds had become a political force in the Kingdom over the last century, to the point of having their own courts to adjudicate matters within each guild, much to the irritation of the Kings courts and the courts of the other nobles. But the nobles were too dependent upon the quality assurance of the many guilds to do more than grumble about flouting authority. But often one of the craft guilds had saved a member from some injustice at the hands of a noble. Despite a long tradition of responsible nobility in the Kingdom, there were always one or two minor earls or barons who thought they could simply ignore a debt. Having a patent of arms from the King did not ensure wealth, and more than one noble had attempted to use rank and position rather than coin of the realm to settle his debts.
Erik distracted Greylock. Swordmaster, what cause brings you to Ravensburg this day?
The usually serious Swordmasters face returned to its usual dour expression. You, Erik. Your father rides to Krondor on state business. Hell be here this evening. I came early to see if
If I could prevail upon my mother to let him alone?
Greylock nodded. Hes not well, Erik. He shouldnt be making the journey and
Ill do what I can. He knew promising was vain should his mother take it into her head to repeat her performance of the last time Otto came through the town. She may have finally gotten over making me the next Baron.
Greylock made a sour face. I would be out of place to comment on that. Then he softened his expression. Trust me on this. If you can, stand by the corner of the town road where the sheep meadow ends and the first vineyard begins, on the east side of the town, before sunset.
Why?
I cant say, but its important.
If my father is so ill, Owen, what cause has he to ride to Krondor?
Greylock mounted his horse. Ill news, Im afraid. The Prince is dead. It will be announced to the populace by royal messenger later this week.
Erik said, Arutha is dead?
Greylock nodded. He fell and broke his hip, Ive been told, and died of complications. He was an aging man, nearly eighty if I have it right.
Prince Arutha had been a fixture in Krondor all of Eriks life and his mothers before him. Father to the King, Borric, who had succeeded Aruthas brother Lyam only five years earlier, he had been the man most responsible for peace in the Kingdom, by all accounts.
To Erik he was a distant figure; certainly, Erik had never seen the Prince, but he felt a small stab of regret. By anyones measure he was a good ruler and a hero in his youth. As Greylock turned the mare around, Erik said, Tell my father I will stand where he asked.
Greylock saluted and lightly touched spurs to the mares flanks, and she trotted out of the inn courtyard.
Nathan, who had come to understand a great deal of Eriks history in the months he had been living at the Pintail, said, Youll want some extra time to clean up.
Erik said, I hadnt thought of that. I was just going to leave at suppertime.
It was late spring, and sunset came close to an hour after supper. Erik would need most of the hour to make it to the other side of Ravensburg, and through the vineyards to the sheep meadow, but only if he went in his dirty clothing.
Nathan playfully hit Erik on the back of the head with his open hand. Dolt. Get yourself cleaned up. Sounds important.
Erik thanked Nathan and hurried to the forge. Below the pallet in the loft where he slept, behind the ladder, sat a trunk with all of Eriks belongings. He took out his one good shirt and carried it over to the washbasin. Removing his dirty shirt, he took the harsh soap and some clean rags and worked feverishly to rid himself of as much dirt as possible. At last he felt presentable and put on his good shirt.
He hurried out of the barn and went to the kitchen, where food was being placed upon the table as he entered. Sitting down, he drew a suspicious look from his mother. Why are you wearing your good shirt? she asked.
Not willing to share his fathers request for a meeting with his mother, lest she demand to accompany him and force a confrontation, he muttered, Im meeting someone after supper, then started noisily eating the stew placed before him.
Milo, who was sitting at the head of the table, laughed. One of the town girls, is it?
This brought an alarmed look from Rosalyn, the color rising in her cheeks as Erik said, Something like that.
Erik continued to eat in silence, while Milo and Nathan spoke of the days events, and the women joined Erik in silence.
Nathan had a dry sense of humor that made it difficult at first to know if he was being mocking or merely amusing. This had resulted in Freida and Milo both treating him with some coolness at first.
But his warm nature and clear appreciation of lifes little moments had won over even Eriks mother, who could often be seen trying to fight back a smile at some quip of Nathans. Erik had once asked him how he kept so even a disposition, and the answer had surprised him. When you lose everything, Nathan had said, youve nothing left to lose. Youve got two choices then: either kill yourself or start building a new life. When I started this new life, without my family, I decided the only sensible thing in it was to live for the small rewards: a job well done, a beautiful sunrise, the sound of children laughing at play, a good cup of wine. Makes it easy to deal with the harsher side of life.
Kings and marshals can look back and relive their triumphs, their great victories. We common folk must take what pleasure we can from lifes little victories.
Erik hardly touched his food, and at last bade everyone excuse him as he almost jumped up from the table and hurried out through the common room, Milos laughter following after. He almost ran through the door of the inn and barely avoided knocking Roo down as the youngster was about to enter the inn.
Wait a minute! cried Roo as he fell in beside his larger friend.
Cant. I have to meet someone.
Roo grabbed the larger youth by the arm and was almost dragged along a step or two before Erik stopped. What? he asked Roo impatiently.
Did your father send for you?
Erik had long since stopped being amazed at the town gossip Roo was able to ferret out, but this had him stunned. Why do you ask that?
Because since late yesterday the road has been thick with Kingdom Post riders, sometimes as many as three in a bunch, and a company of the Barons horse, followed by two companies of foot soldiers, passed by the eastern boundary of the town this morning, heading south, and the Barons own personal guards showed up an hour ago at the Growers and Vintners Hall. Thats what I was coming to tell you. And youre wearing your best shirt.
Not wishing to have Roo along, Erik said, The Prince of Krondor is dead. Thats why He was about to say that was why his father was coming to the town, on his way to Krondor, but instead said, all the fuss.
Roo said, So those soldiers are heading south to support the garrisons along the Keshian border, in case the Emperor gets ambitious now that Aruthas dead. Now suddenly an expert in military matters, Roo was left standing by Erik, who had resumed his hurried march.
Seeing he was suddenly alone, Roo yelled, Hey! and chased after his friend, catching up with him as Erik left the street of the Pintail and entered the main square of the town.
Where are you going?
Erik stopped. I have to meet someone.
Who?
Its personal.
Its not a girl, or youd be heading north to the fountain, not east toward the baronial road. Roos eyes widened. You are meeting your father! I was just joking before.
Erik said, I dont want anyone to say anything, especially not to my mother.
Ill keep this to myself.
Good, said Erik, turning Roo around with two large and powerful hands on narrow shoulders. Go find something amusing to do, and not too illegal, and Ill talk to you later tonight. Meet me at the inn.
Roo frowned, but sauntered off as if he had intended to leave Erik alone anyway. Erik resumed his journey.
He hurried through the businesses clustered around the town square, two- and three-story edifices overhanging the narrow streets, then moved between the modest homes owned by the higher-ranking members of the various crafts and guilds, then the ramshackle houses used by workers, married apprentices, and traders without storefronts.
Leaving the town proper, he hurried along the east road, past small vegetable gardens where pushcart traders grew their wares to sell in the town market, and the large eastern vineyards. Reaching the point where the baronial road leading to Darkmoor intercepted the main east west road through Ravensburg, he waited.
He mulled over what possible reason he could have been asked to meet his father at this relatively remote location, dismissing the most fanciful of all, that his mothers dream would somehow be realized and his father would acknowledge him.
His musing was interrupted by the sound of an approaching company of horsemen. Soon he could see them crest a distant hill, a company of riders appearing out of the evenings gloom to the northeast. As they neared, he could see they were the Barons own, leading the same carriage Erik had seen the last time the Baron had paid the town a visit. He felt a tightening in his chest as they neared, and no small apprehension, for his two half brothers could be seen riding beside the carriage. The first riders hurried past, but Stefan and Manfred reined in.
Stefan shouted, What! You again?
He made a threatening gesture as if to draw his sword, but his younger brother shouted, Stefan! Keep up! Leave him alone!
The younger brother set heels to his mount and moved to keep up with the vanguard, but his older brother hesitated.
As more soldiers rode past, Stefan shouted, I warn you now, brother: when I ascend to the Barons office, Ill be nowhere near as tolerant as our father. If I catch a glimpse of you or your mother at any public function, Ill have you arrested so quickly your shadow will have to search to find you. Without waiting for a reply, he viciously dug his spurs into his horses flank, causing the high-spirited gelding to leap forward into a fast canter, then a gallop, so he could overtake his younger brother.
Then the main detachment of soldiers approached, followed by the Barons carriage. As they passed, the riders moved at a steady canter, but the carriage slowed. When it was almost upon Erik, the curtain of the carriage closest to him was pulled back, and he could glimpse a white face peering through the gloom at him. For a moment, father and son locked gazes, and Erik felt a sudden rush of confused feelings. Then all too suddenly the instant passed, and the carriage rolled away, the driver using the reins to urge his team of four ahead, to overtake the escort.