Hal - The Duellist #1

Chapter Four - Cara

"You're right." Hal raised her voice above the din. "You senators definitely know how to enjoy yourselves."

"The Emperor lent us the room for the evening," Marc explained. "He needs to placate a few of these aristocrats, so he thought he'd let us put on a bit of a show. He wants them to think they're appreciated."

"Of course. Oh, there's Franc." Hal gestured in the direction of a tall, well-built man of middle-age: coarsely handsome with a shock of raven-black hair which contrasted sharply with the piercing blue of his eyes. It was on account of those eyes and those tanned swarthy features that Franc Hannac was said to have received considerable attention from female members of the court ─ or at least that was what Hal had heard. His more attractive assets were, however, rarely mentioned: an unmarried, wealthy aristocrat was inevitably to be viewed in a favourable light. Yet he led an obstinately single, and some said, fairly reclusive life on his estates in the North.

Franc was nodding, grave and sympathetic, as two elderly ladies complained about changes at court ─ of how the old ways were being forgotten, challenged by the rude manners and ill-breeding of young aristocrats. Standing behind the two ancient courtiers, Hal winked at him. He caught her gaze and made his excuses to the old women. On noticing Hal, their faces soured, and they pulled away. Hal's grin broadened. She had long grown used to such snubs.

"Marc, Hal!" Franc saluted them.

Hal shook his hand with warmth. "You promised us all you'd be back several months ago. I took you for a man of your word."

"In that case, I'm sorry to have disappointed." The slight hint of a smile played on his lips. His voice, tinged with the country accent of the North contrasted pleasantly with the icy tones of the court.

"I hope you've been keeping an eye on her, Senator."

"As much as possible, Franc. It's not always easy, you know."

"What are you talking about?" Hal rounded on Marc. "I never asked to be looked after!"

"You may not have asked, Hal." Marc's lips twitched in amusement. "That doesn't mean you don't need looking after."

Rubbing his chin, Franc studied her thoughtfully. "You know, lass, if you're ever feeling tired of city life, you can always come and stay with me some time."

Marc choked on his drink.

"Are you alright, Senator?" Franc asked, concerned.

"Yes, I'm fine. It's just, well, I really can't imagine Hal outside the city."

"And why not?" she demanded, furious. Marc could be so smug, so patronising. "I'm sure I could manage perfectly well beyond the city walls, thank you very much."

"Hal, please, the city's in your blood. One whiff of that fresh northern air and you'd be hammering at the gates begging to be let back in."

Franc grinned, familiar with the banter which passed between the strange pair.

"Well," he said, "just think about it. Of course you're welcome too, Senator."

"Now that," Hal stated flatly, "I do find funny."

It was at that moment that she noticed a new guest had entered the room: a woman of middle age, grey-brown hair sleeked tightly back behind her head, a silver dress trailing to the floor, emerald jewels at her ears and neck complementing the vivid green of her eyes. The woman surveyed the room with a kind of cold contempt. An icy pang of despair coursed through Hal, hitting the very pit of her stomach.

"Marc," she whispered, "you didn't tell me she'd be here."

"I didn't know," he stammered.

"You think my mother would forgo the opportunity of ensnaring a few provincial aristocrats?" Hal turned to leave, but Franc touched her shoulder and shook his head. She sighed, knowing only too well what would happen if Cara Thæc spotted her amongst the crowd.

Cara took a few sedate steps into the room and struck up a conversation with the pair of grumbling courtiers. In spite of Franc's hint for her to stay, Hal knew that to do so would be to risk pain and humiliation. But as she headed towards the main doors, a high-pitched voice cut through the air like a blade.

Cara's tone was strident, outraged. "I do wonder about the senate these days. They seem to permit anyone to walk through these doors. You know I really don't believe I can attend such functions when anything off the street is let in."

Hal stopped, her heart hammering out a wild, frantic rhythm. After a life time of enduring these verbal beatings, she'd developed a thick skin. Often enough she would swallow her pride, aware of how lucky she was to have her own rooms in the city. No longer constrained to suffer her mother's scorn and loathing, she could now escape the torments of the palace. Yet today she was reluctant to allow Cara her own way. After all, Franc's visits to Colvé were rare events. Why shouldn't she stay and speak to him? Marc gestured frantically at her to leave, but she didn't want to. Not this time. Turning around, she faced the older woman in defiance.

"Well, Lady Cara, if you don't like the company, maybe you ought to leave?"

The buzz of conversation died away, the orchestra slowed in pace, the music stopped. This was just the kind of entertainment courtiers enjoyed the most: an argument which would provide the meat for gossip over the coming weeks.

"I don't believe, young woman, that anyone here asked for your opinion. Your presence here tonight is yet another demonstration of your complete disrespect for the court ─ a court which, it is now clear, nourished an ingrate, a creature incapable of civilised behaviour." Cara's expression was indignant, her face white with anger

The courtiers turned their collective attention to Hal, waiting for a response.

"Is it, Cara, civilised behaviour to break up a meeting with this sort of tirade?"

"It is my duty," Cara continued, pretentiously, "to reveal the rebellion in our midst, if no one else will do so."

As hard as she tried, Hal could not hold back her laughter. Yet she knew how much it would provoke her mother.

"Stop it!" Cara fumed, working herself into an indignant fury. "You see, ladies and gentlemen of the court, how she mocks us all with her very presence. I demand she is removed immediately."

"Don't worry Cara," Hal threw back, feeling that the courtiers had been served enough of a spectacle for one evening. Franc's conversation would have to wait. "Don't worry, I'll remove myself."

"Please do."

"Just tell me one thing – why do you despise me so much? What have I ever done to you? I'm sure we'd all love to know."

She knew that she would never hear the real answer to her question from Cara's lips. Yet deep down, Hal understood the reason for the hatred which shone from her own mother's eyes. The existence of an illegitimate child threw Cara's reputation as a courtier and an aristocrat into jeopardy. Hal was an inconvenient reminder of her own shame: a living stain upon her honour.

Cara shook with the effort of self-control, choosing her words with vicious purpose, spitting them out as if they were poison. "I find your behaviour abhorrent and undignified."

Hal smiled and shook her head. "Well, it's a shame you didn't find my father's behaviour abhorrent and undignified. If you had done, I wouldn't be troubling you with my presence now, would I?"

The court held its breath. No one had ever dared voice the truth in public. Not even Hal. Cara's face paled even further, her hands trembled, and she took on the appearance of one who would surely commit murder, were it not for the presence of others. Then she walked over to where Hal stood and slapped her hard across the face.

Franc and Marc moved to pull Hal away, perhaps worried that her reaction would be equally violent, but she stared, ashen-faced at the floor. Cara stalked from the room, her head held high.

"Come on, Hal, I'll take you home," Marc offered gently.

"I told you that you'd regret it," she muttered.