As befitted a prince, Galrion had a suite of rooms on the second floor of the main tower. His reception chamber took up a generous wedge of the round floor plan, with a high, beamed ceiling, a stone hearth, and a polished wooden floor. On the wood-paneled walls hung fine tapes-tries from the far-off land of Bardek, gifts from various traders who hoped that the prince would speak of them to the King. Since he was honorable in his bribe taking, Galrion always dutifully spoke. The chamber was richly furnished with carved chests, a cushioned chair, and a table, where stood, between bronze wyverns, his greatest treasure: seven books. When Galrion had first learned to read, the King was furious, raging that letters were no fit thing for a man, but in his usual stubborn way, Galrion had persevered until now, after some four years of study, he could read almost as well as a scribe.
To avoid the bustle and clamor of the formal dinner in the great hall, Galrion dined privately in his chamber that night. He did, however, receive a guest after the meal to share a silver goblet of mead: Gwerbret Madoc of Glasloc, in whose jurisdiction lay the lands of the Falcon and the Boar. Although below members of the royal family, of course, the rank of gwerbret was the highest in the kingdom, and the title went back to ancient times. In the Gaulish homeland, the Dawntime tribes elected magistrates called vergobreti to administer their laws and to speak for the wartime assemblies. Generally the vergobreti were chosen from the noble-born, and at about the time that word became gwerbret in their new land of Deverry, the position began to pass from father to son. Since a man who made judgments and distributed booty was in a good position to build up his power, in time the gwerbrets became great, wealthy, and in possession of small armies to enforce their legal rulings on the tieryns and lords beneath them. One last remnant of the Dawntime survived, however, in the council of electors who, if a gwerbrets line died out, would choose the noble clan to succeed it.
Thus, every gwerbret in the kingdom was a force to be reckoned with, and Galrion fussed over Madoc as if he were a prince himself, offering him the cushioned chair, pouring him mead with his own hands, and sending the page away so that they could speak privately. The object of these attentions merely smiled benignly. A solid man with a thick streak of gray in his raven-dark hair, Madoc cared more for fine horses than honors and for a good battle more than rank. That night he was in a jesting mood, pledging the prince with his goblet of mead in mock solemnity.
To your wedding, my prince! Madoc said. For a man who doesnt say much, youre a sly one. Fancy you nipping in and getting the most beautiful lass in the kingdom.
I was rather surprised she accepted me. No one could ever call me the most beautiful lad.
Oh, dont give yourself short value. Brangwen sees beyond a lads face, which is more than many a lass does. Madoc had a swallow of mead, long enough to burn an ordinary drinkers throat. I dont mind saying that every man in the kingdom is going to envy you your wedding night. Or have you already claimed your rights as her betrothed?
I havent. I had no desire to set her brother against me just for one night in her bed.
Although Galrion was merely speaking casually, Madoc turned troubled, watching him over the rim of his goblet.
Well? Galrion went on. How do you think Gerraent would have taken it, if Id bedded his sister under his roof?
Hes a strange lad. Madoc looked idly away. Hes been out there alone on the edge of that cursed forest too much, but hes a good lad withal. I rode with him in that last rebellion against your father. By the hell ice itself, our Gerro can fight. Ive never seen a man swing a sword as well as he does, and thats not idle praise, my prince, but my considered judgment.
Then coming from you, thats high praise indeed.
Madoc nodded absently and had another sip of mead. When he spoke again, it was to change the subject to the legal doings of his gwerbretrhynand he kept it there.
It was late, and Madoc long gone, when a page came with a summons from the King. Since the King scorned luxury as unfit for a fighting man, even a regal one, his large chamber was perfectly plain, with the torches in their iron sconces the only decoration on the stone walls. Near the hearth, where a small fire burned to ward off the spring chill, King Adoryc was sitting on a plain wooden chair, with Ylaena beside him on a footstool. When Galrion came in, the King stood up, setting his hands on his hips. Adoryc the Second was a massive man, broad shouldered, tall, with a bulls neck and a perpetually ruddy face. His gray hair and thick mustache were still touched with blond.
So, you young cub! Ive got somewhat to say to you.
Indeed, my liege?
Indeed. What by all the hells have you been doing out in the forest with that daft old man?
Caught off guard, Galrion could only stare at him.
Dont you think I have you followed? Adoryc went on. You may be fool enough to ride alone, but Im not fool enough to let you.
Curse your very soul! Galrion snapped. Spying on me.
Listen to your insolent little hound! Adoryc glanced at Ylaena. Cursing his own father. But answer me, lad. What have you been doing? The village folk tell my men that this Rhegors a daft old herbman. I can get you an apothecary if the prince has royal boils or suchlike.
Galrion knew that the moment had come for truth, even though he had never been less willing to tell it in his life.
He earns his living with his herbs, sure enough, but hes a dweomermaster.
Ylaena caught her breath in an audible gasp.
Horsedung! Adoryc snarled. Do you truly think Ill believe such babble? I want to know what youre doing, spending so much time with him when you tell me youre at the Falcon dun.
Studying with him. Why shouldnt a prince study the dweomer?
Ah, ye gods! Ylaena burst out. Ive always known youd leave me for that!
Adoryc turned to stare his wife into silence.
Why not? the King said. Why not? Because I forbid it.
Oh, here, you just called it horsedung. Why are you raging now?
Swinging too fast to be dodged, Adoryc slapped him hard across the face. When Ylaena cried out, Adoryc turned on her.
Get out of here, woman! Now.
Ylaena fled through the curtained archway that led to the womens hall. Adoryc drew his dagger, then stabbed it into the back of a chair so hard that when he took his hand away, the dagger quivered for a moment. Galrion held his ground and stared steadily at him.
I want a vow out of you, Adoryc said. A solemn vow that youll never touch this nonsense again.
Never could I lie to my own father. So I cant swear it.
Adoryc slapped him backhanded.
By the names of the gods, Father! What do you hold so much against it?
What any man would hold. Whose stomach wouldnt turn at somewhat unclean?
Its not unclean. Thats a tale the priests make up to frighten women away from witchcraft.
The barb hit its mark. Adoryc made a visible effort to be calm.
I cant give it up, Galrion went on. Its too late. I know too much already for it to let me rest.
When Adoryc took a sharp step back, Galrion finally realized that his father was afraid, and him a man who would ride straight into a hopeless battle and take no quarter from man or god.
Just what do you know? the King whispered.
Galrion had Rhegors permission to display one small trick to persuade his father. He raised his hand and imagined that it was glowing with blue fire. Only when the image lived no matter where he turned his mind did he call upon the Wildfolk of Aethyr, who rushed to do his bidding and bring the blue light through to the physical plane, where it flared up and raged round his fingers. Adoryc flung himself back, his arm over his face as if to ward a blow.
Stop it! Adoryc bellowed out. I say stop it!
Galrion forced the fire away just as the Kings guard flung open the door and rushed into the chamber with drawn swords. Adoryc pulled himself together with a will almost as strong as his sons.
You can all go. Adoryc smiled impartially all round. My thanks, but Im only arguing with the stubbornest whelp in the litter.
You can all go. Adoryc smiled impartially all round. My thanks, but Im only arguing with the stubbornest whelp in the litter.
The captain of the guard bowed, glancing Galrions way with a wink. As soon as the men were gone and the door shut, Adoryc pulled the dagger free of the chair back.
Im half minded to slit your throat and put a clean end to this, Adoryc remarked, in a casual tone of voice. Dont you ever do that round me again.
I wont, then, but it makes a handy thing on a dark night when youve dropped your torch.
Hold your tongue! Adoryc clutched the dagger tight. To think a son of mineand as cold as ice about it!
But ye gods, Father, cant you see? Its too late to go back. I want to leave the court and study. Theres no other road open to me.
Adoryc held the dagger so that the blade caught the torchlight.
Get out, Adoryc whispered. Get out of my presence before I do a dishonorable thing.
Galrion turned and walked slowly toward the door. The flesh on his back prickled. Once he was safely out, Galrion allowed himself one long sigh of relief that the dagger was still in his fathers hand, not in his back.
On the morrow, Galrion went early in search of his mother only to find her talking urgently with her serving women. To pass the time until he could speak with her, he decided to go for a walk through the parkland. As he walked down the hill to the first gate, he was thinking that it should have come as no surprise that the King would fear a prince with dweomerAdoryc feared every possible rival to his throne. If Galrion had been a schemer, there was no doubt that magic would have given him a powerful edge. At the gate, two guards stepped forward and blocked his path.
My humble apologies, my prince. The Kings given orders that you not be allowed to pass by.
Oh, has he, now? And would you raise your hand to stop me?