RHIDAUNA, The Shadow of the Revenaunt, Book 1

CHAPTER 8 - THERIDAUN

This shocked Ghyll. 'But... the lands are royal fiefs. Without the king's permission they cannot change hands.'

'On paper, they can't,' the young mage said. 'But who cares for that, nowadays? The regent is far away, and for a handful of crowns officials look the other way oh so willingly.'

'Corruption! The counts and dukes are supposed to prevent such things.'

Bo shrugged. 'That's just what my mother meant. Without a king, the kingdom goes to pieces.'

At last they came to the other side of town, where Burg Theridaun watched over the area from the top of a bald hill

They rested their horses and stared upward.

'Dear Gods,' Damion said. 'We're not there yet.' He inspected the narrow way leading up to the castle and nodded his approval. 'You don't want to send an attacking army this way. See those catapults behind the battlements? They're ready to kick you in the teeth when you try.'

When they came to the castle gate, their unexpected visit caused a slight panic. Servants milled around, issuing conflicting orders, till an old major-domo appeared. On his orders several grooms rushed out to take over their mounts, while he himself met them on the steps.

'Welcome, noble lady and lords,' he said. 'Forgive the confusion; the count doesn't receive many visitors these days.' As he went before them, he looked at Ghyll. 'My master is not well, baron. I must ask you not to tire him.'

Ghyll nodded, surprised. Mynos, the living legend, not well? Before he could ask anything, the major-domo showed them into the main hall. Ghyll looked around in silence. Impressive. That's how a hero is supposed to live. Banners hung from the walls, stained relics of past battles. Huge carpets covered the cold floor tiles. Along the walls waited glittering suits of armor, most of them in the style of two centuries ago. Rows of tall candles competed with the torches on the walls to give the most light. Their flames colored Ghyll's own armor, so that the simple leather seemed studded with gold.

Amidst all splendor stood a raised seat. There sat that much-celebrated hero, the Knight Mynos Ballady, Civic Count of Theridaun, Defender of the late King Halfraud IV – an old, old man. His shoulders had lost their pride and the unruly strands of hair escaping from under his velvet cap were gray His gaunt face was cast in gloom, his mouth a bitter line. He looked like a warrior from whom all spirit had drained like water from a cracked jar, so that only the damaged vessel remained. Ghyll felt embarrassed. Was this the same man of whose exploits the veterans at Tinnurad had used to sing? Olle and he knew whole sections of the ballads by heart. The man on the high seat was nothing like their hero.

Ballady welcomed them with hesitant words, as if it were an almost forgotten ritual. All the while, his eyes stared dull and listless at a point behind them.

Does he see me? thought Ghyll uncomfortably. Or what is he looking at? Memories? They must hurt him. How awful to become so old. Hastily he handed the Count his uncle's letter.

It took the old man a while to break the seal with his trembling hands. Slowly he read, his lips shaping the words his finger found. To Ghyll's amazement, color came to Mynos's hollow cheeks. His eyes watered and he dropped the letter on his lap. 'The ring. Where's the ring?'

Surprised at the old man's sudden agitation, Ghyll took the gold seal from his purse and showed it on the palm of his hand. The count moved as if to kiss the hand that held the ring, but at the last moment, he controlled himself.

'You must wear it,' he said. 'It shouldn't be locked away.'

With his eyes closed, the old man leaned back in his chair. Ghyll saw how the few courtiers around the dais exchanged shocked whispers. The major-domo watched, looking worried, but he didn't say anything.