Part 32 (2/2)

Hope flashed through Dain. He grabbed at the offer like a drowning man. ”Where is it?”

”You will go, then?” Lord Odfrey asked.

”What choice have I?”

Lord Odfrey dropped his gaze and nodded. ”Very well. I will show you the way.”

The knights outside pounded on the door again. ”My lord! We must have him.

Surrender him to us now!”

”A moment more,” Lord Odfrey called back, and strode across the wardroom to the fireplace. He pressed a stone, and a small, concealed door opened in the wall. ”Through here. Quickly.”

Dain hurried to it and had started to duck into a cramped, musty pa.s.sageway draped with cobwebs and smelling of mice when a suspicion tickled the back of his neck. He paused, hesitating, and glanced back.

Lord Odfrey scowled at him and gestured for him to go. ”Hurry. You have no more time.”

”What will become of you?” Dain asked. ”If I go, it will be known that you allowed me to escape. What will befall you?”

”Do not worry about me.”

But Dain was thinking of what the chevard had said to Lord Renald. ”You said I was your responsibility.

Will you be punished for defying the prince?” ”No.”

”Tell me the truth,” Dain said fiercely.

”If you're going, you must go now,” Lord Odfrey said with equal fierceness. ”It is the only way to save you.”

”Will you stand trial in my place?” Dain asked.

Lord Odfrey said nothing. They stared at each other a long moment in the silence, then Dain slowly backed out of the escape pa.s.sage and pressed the stone to close its door. ”Dain!”

”No,” Dain said softly, ”I will not run if it means you will be destroyed in my place.”

”I have a better chance than you.”

Dain shook his head. ”You have given me much kindness this year, lord. I will not serve you ill in repayment.”

”In Thod's name, you must go!”

Dain turned away from him and resolutely opened the door. He found himself faced by a delegation of six knights, half Thirst men and half Lunt. His heart was hammering again, and from behind him he could feel a wave of despair pa.s.s through Lord Odfrey. Dain's knees felt weak, and he was sore afraid, but he forced himself to face the men with his head held high and his gaze steady. ”Take me to your a.s.sembly,”

he said.

The Hall of Thirst Hold stretched long and narrow, with a high vaulted ceiling spanned by thick wooden beams and hung with Thirst banners of green. The head of a stag bearing immense, spreading antlers was mounted at one end of the Hall; the ma.s.sive head of a black, snarling beyar was at the other. Tapestries covered the wall on one side of the Hall, while s.h.i.+elds interspersed with chevron-patterned arrangements of swords and rosettes of daggers adorned the opposite wall. Long trestle tables littered with trenchers, riddled wheels of cheese, bread crumbs, and platters of picked-over meat bones stretched the length of the room in a double row, leaving an empty aisle that reached all the way to the great hearth at the north end. Large enough to roast an ox, the hearth stood cold and empty this summer's night. Torches set in iron sconces on either side of the chimneypiece flamed vivid red, hissing and smoking and dripping hot pitch.

When Lord Odfrey walked into the Hall, the musicians fell silent and the knights sitting at the tables stopped their chatter. Pewter tankards of Thirst cider banged the tables. Benches sc.r.a.ped back, and the knights rose to their feet. The chevard had put on a dark green cloak over his gray tunic. The torchlight glittered on his jeweled cloak pin, signet, and marriage ring. Grim-faced, Lord Odfrey strode along straight-backed, with one hand resting lighting on his sword hilt.

Dain followed behind him, feeling the weight of every pair of eyes in the Hall, from Prince Gavril on down to the lowliest page. Next came the six knights in solemn procession.

The knights of Thirst were sober, but the men of Lunt were not. Dain smelled the fermented ale in their cups and on their breath. He read fierce judgment in their gaze. Their minds flickered against his: guiltyIguiltyIguiltyIguilty. At the head table, which was still laden with supper remains Prince Gavril sat with the priest and Lord Renald. Only Lord Renald had the right to stay seated in Lord Odfrey's presence but none of them rose.

The torchlight gleamed on Gavril's golden hair. He wore an indigo doublet of silk. His handsome face smirked with triumph, and his slender white hand toyed with the jeweled hilt of his poniard.

Sir Los stood behind his young master's chair, looking stolid and bulky. His expression was stony, his eyes forever watchful. The priest was a short, swarthy man with a sunburned tonsure and worried, nervous eyes. Wearing his robes, he looked hot and unhappy. With his own protector standing behind his chair, Lord Renald leaned back, seemingly at his ease, but his dark eyes held a frown. When Lord Odfrey reached the table, Lord Renald rose to his feet and bowed.

Lord Odfrey inclined his head stiffly in return. Their exchange of courtesies made Gavril look haughty and churlish. When the prince continued to sit in Lord Odfrey's presence, a faint murmur of disapproval spread across the room. Gavril seemed to ignore it, but his dark blue eyes flashed with disdain. Glancing to one side of the Hall, Dain found the worried faces of Thum and Sir Polquin among the crowd. Sir Polquin scowled at Gavril and Thum looked furious. Lord Odfrey's gaze pa.s.sed over Gavril coldly and sought out his captain-at-arms.

”Who have been chosen judges?” he asked.

Sir Bosquecel, looking stern and official in his mail and surcoat, came forward.

”The judges will be Lord Renald, his captain-at-arms, and myself.” Dain blinked worriedly. Lord Renald seemed fairly neutral and open-minded, but Dain had already heard the man warn Lord Odfrey not to risk offending the king. Dain did not think Lord Renald would fail to follow his own advice. The second man Dain knew not at all. Sir Bosquecel had always been kind to Dain in the past, but now he stood rigid and stalwart before Lord Odfrey and did not glance at Dain once. Even if Sir Bosquecel took Dain's side, that left two whose votes were at best uncertain.

Prince Gavril finally rose to his feet. ”A representative of the church should also be a judge,” he said.

The priest beside him jumped up hastily, looking more nervous than before. ”I shall serve as I am called to serve, my lords,” he said in a thin, breathless voice.

Ignoring the priest entirely, Lord Odfrey looked at Gavril with scant patience.

”Such is not the law.”

Gavril flushed, and for a moment hatred for Lord Odfrey gleamed in his dark blue eyes. ”It is the custom at court to include the church as a courtesy.” ”We are an a.s.sembly of warriors, your highness,” Lord Odfrey said in a voice like stone. ”We will follow law here, not lowlander custom.” The pink flush in Gavril's face darkened at the rebuke, and some of the knights laughed. Gavril glared at them. ”Very well!” he said a bit shrilly. ”Let us begin.”

Sir Bosquecel looked offended by the prince's brusque command. Watching, Dain got a glimmer of an idea. If he could cause Gavril to lose his temper and display to these men his true personality, then perhaps they might believe what Dain had to say. It was a thin plan, but all he had.

The ceremony began with the head table being pushed back and Dain placed in front of it to face the entire Hall.

A herald wearing Thirst livery came forward and cleared his throat. ”Lords and knights,” he announced, ”let it be known that the trial of one eld youth, known as Dain, has now begun. Let truth be spoken by all. Let all hearts be open to receiving the truth, as we are taught by Tomias, servant of Thod the Almighty.” Someone pounded his tankard on the table at the rear of the Hall. ”Hang 'im!” the man shouted drunkenly. ”Hang 'im in a river tree an' let the keebacks peck out his eyes!”

Lord Odfrey whirled around. ”Seize that man!” he roared. Two Thirst knights strode down the length ofthe Hall toward the offender. ”Gently,” Lord Renald said with an apologetic shrug. ”Chances are he's one of mine.”

Lord Odfrey was not listening. His fist was clenched at his side and he fumed, ”Drunkenness in my Hall.

I will not have it.”

The knight who was pulled forth to stand on wobbly knees was not a Lunt man, however, but Thirst.

With food and ale spilled down his green surcoat, he let his head loll a moment before he waved and flashed a drunken grin. It was Sir Vedrique, a.s.signed to Gavril's company of guards.

Lord Odfrey looked livid. ”Get him out!” he ordered. ”Secure him in the guardhouse.”

”Aye, m'lord.”

Sir Vedrique was hustled out, and Lord Odfrey gazed long and hard around the Hall. ”If any other man here is drunk, let him admit it now and leave without censure. Stay, and if I learn you have voted in this trial with your judgment impaired, it will be a public flogging.”

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