The Summer of the Swordsman

Chapter XIX

Anakreon had been quite correct. With Kenui's enthusiastic approval and Sored's unwilling cooperation, Mourner had ridden straight to the Prefect of Danskaggan Police, Lord Torkal of Orme. He had gone into Torkal's presence like an angry whirlwind and told the man a tale that had made his thick flaxen hair stand on end. The result of that meeting had been the calling together of two full squadrons of mounted police and the scouring of the quays.

They found us just as Garius finished talking, and the Prince of Eripuse was surrounded and disarmed within seconds, with a burly guardsman hanging on to either arm. Lord Torkal faced him, looking as mad as a hornet.

Mourner looked around the room and found Atto, the go‑between. A softly spoken word to the men beside him, and Atto was squirming in the grip of another pair of men. Mourner smiled, looked a question at Anakreon, Quinquius and me and then, relieved, nodded and sat back to watch developments.

"You are Anakreon, Prince of Thrason?" Torkal asked courteously enough, inclining his flaxen head. When Anakreon nodded he said, "Then I welcome you for the sake of your Master Swordsman here. We're old friends. I would be honored if you would accept my hospitality for the remainder of your stay in Hirstad."

Anakreon said something suitably courtly in reply. Lord Torkal turned his attention to Garius. Oddly, neither he nor Mourner seemed to be afraid of the man. The Swordsman's lips were even curled in the suggestion of a fastidious sneer, though he held his peace. Lord Torkal's tone couldn't have been less indicative of fear.

"You are Garius of Eripuse," he said, and managed to make the name sound like a particularly repulsive skin condition.

Garius looked disgustedly at his sword and dagger, lying securely in the grip of an officer of police. "That's correct," he said. "Unhand me, if you please."

Torkal smiled, and the smile was not a pleasant one. "I heard rumors that you were in Hirstad, but I didn't credit them. You were warned to stay away from this land and outside our waters, as well. You know what will happen to you if you do not. And now‑‑"

"Stow it," said Garius. "What can you do to me? I am here in peace, I've harmed no one."

"That isn't what the Master Swordsman has told me," Torkal pointed out. "And because I've known him and his family for a long time, I'm inclined to take his word over yours. We have a full, formal complaint lodged against you in behalf of Prince Anakreon, that you abducted him and his lieutenants, held them against their wills, and mistreated them."

Garius shrugged. In Torkal's and Mourner's presence he was acting less like a prince and more like a guttersnipe. "You can see that they're unhurt," he said. "As for the complaint, ask Prince Anakreon if he wishes to press charges against me."

Lord Torkal raised his eyebrows and turned to Anakreon.

"No," Anakreon said. "There has been no harm done, and we have resolved our differences and accepted a handsome apology. I thank your lordship for your very kind concern."

Torkal didn't seem happy with this, but Mourner leaned forward and spoke softly. I couldn't hear what he told Torkal, but it had the effect of smoothing the scowl from Torkal's face.

"Very well," the Prefect said, and then, turning upon Garius, "You are warned, Garius of Eripuse. This is the last time that we'll tolerate your presence in Danskagge. The next time you or your lieutenants are found here or within our waters you will be taken to Hirstad and beheaded by command of their majesties. You won't be warned again."

Garius yawned.

Torkal's naturally high‑colored face darkened. "Mind your manners, Pirate!" he rapped. "Or that handsome head will be rolling in a sack of bran on the Magistrate's square in Hirstad for the entertainment of gawking spectators. It would be my pleasure to watch. You're here only on sufferance, and if you remain beyond this time tomorrow, I will be pleased to order their majesties' sentence carried out. Do you understand me?"

"Loose me," Garius said. "You've made yourself quite clear with all your bellowing." He squinted at the coat of arms blazoned on Torkal's broad chest and nodded., "Right," he said. "I'll remember you if I meet you on the seas."

Torkal's teeth flashed in a very unpleasant smile. "Be sure that you know that is me, pirate," he said. "And make sure we're on the high seas, else you're surely a dead man." His smile gentled as he turned to Mourner. "And you, Master Swordsman. My best love to you and yours. Your uncle used me like a brother, and you became a son to me in my exile. If you are ever in trouble, come to me and mine. We will do all we can to help you."

Mourner smiled at him then, a smile of rare warmth. "You know I will my lord," he said. They embraced, and then Torkal withdrew, taking his men with him. Garius' weapons were tossed to the ground with a clang.

Mourner leaned over his horse's neck and said, "And I add my warning to his, Garius. My family has had a century's experience in fighting yours. Killing you would give me great pleasure."

Garius looked Mourner over. "For a century, eh?" he said. "No doubt you were one of those clans of shore‑rats who put to sea in dinghies trying to stop our ships. We've run across them several times of late, and we always send them back to shore with their tails between their legs!"

Mourner laughed, for all the world like an adult laughing at the words a child spits out when it first tries to argue with its elders. "The last time our families fought your father fled back to Eripuse with his tail between his legs, as you so aptly put it, crying foul and suing for peace."

We all stared. Melanissos, Garius' father, had tried to encroach on the Belgican trade routes. He had done some raiding and burning along the routes and had put a few small harbors to the torch. Things were going well for Melanissos, and he had chosen to attack at a time when the Duke of Ainhault, Crown Prince Kirien Farr of Belgica, was busy fighting the Roman forces under the Emperor Valerius. He had his hands full, and the attack of the Eripusian ships was like a gnat sting. You don't swat gnats when you're wrestling a bear.

But Kirien sent his brother‑in‑law, Admiral Prince Sestjan Farr, with a squadron of Belgican warships to do battle with Melanissos.

Sestjan out‑sailed and out‑generalled Melanissos, who fled to Eripuse and sued for peace. He ended up paying a heavy tribute, and the humiliation of his defeat was said to have killed him. If that was the case, then the world owes Admiral Sestjan a great debt. And Garius' suddenly vicious expression was understandable if Mourner was related to that family.

"I won't forget that," Garius said. "And I won't forget you, either."

"See that you don't ," Mourner said. "It could be costly. And now, since we've the misfortune to be serving under you we'd best get started before Lord Torkal has a chance to carry out his threat."