Here you'll find

 

HONOR BOUND

 

 

 

Chapter 2

The servant boy leads the way, and now I'm certain of it: Rogher is clearly uptight. What's up with him? He's been all the time talking about going 'home' to Noragayll, so what is this all of a sudden? Hasn't he practically grown up with Lord Jhorell? Aren't they almost brothers?

Maybe something's happened and they haven't parted on too companionable terms? That's probably it, because just look at that man now. Does he really look all that nervous, walking briskly and with head held high. It's just the somewhat stiff set of his shoulders that gives him away, and it's so slight that I only see it because I know him so well. No, it can't be anything serious. If it was, surely I'd have known about it already much earlier. I shouldn't always be jumping to conclusions.

There's a sturdy door separating the Soldiers' House from the castle, and I observe in passing that it can be barred and bolted on both sides. It opens into a long hall with a tall double door to our right ¨C the main door of the keep, unless I'm badly mistaken ¨C and a staircase that curves up and disappears into the shadow ahead.

The boy goes to the other large, ornate door on our left and pushes it open. Rogher does not hesitate to step in and I follow, sizzling with curiosity.

So this is the Great Hall of Noragayll castle! Not the biggest of its kind I've seen, but then that'd be ludicrous because I've been all the way to the mighty Deleon and beyond. And what this hall may lack in size, it amply makes up in grandeur. The ceiling is high and vaulted, with handsome ribs of dark stone protruding from the curving, whitewashed surface. A gigantic iron chandelier hangs by a thick chain from an equally gigantic hook fastened to the pinnacle of the vault, illuminating the long table underneath it. The table is lined on both sides by long benches covered in thick rugs and furs, and I can even see some handsome, high-backed chairs in front of the large fireplace that takes up most of the wall in one end of the hall.

A lavish dinner has been set on the table, but even though I'm thirsty and hungry it still fails to command my attention, for my eye is caught by the enormous tapestry hanging on the wall behind the table. One of the biggest I've ever seen, it's a truly wondrous piece of work and shows no sign of fading or wear. It sports a hunting scene bursting with action: stags and galloping horses, riders in handsome clothes, dogs barking and leaping and sniffing the air, and dark green trees framing the riot of rich, lavish color. It's a true masterpiece that has taken weeks to make, and there aren't very many places that could produce such work even if given years to accomplish it.

I can't help staring. That tapestry is brand new and fits the stretch of wall too perfectly for it to be a coincidence. Here's a Lord who wants to show everyone that even after the staggering cost of building a castle, he still has enough wealth to adorn it with such treasures. That is, at least he wasn't broke when he ordered that thing ¨C I wonder if it's already been paid for, though?

Rogher stops, and I notice it just in time to avoid bumping into him. It's an abrupt stop, but at least I manage to make it look graceful enough that I don't make a complete fool of myself because nobody is looking at me with a sneer. No, all eyes are on Rogher, particularly the intense eyes of the man sitting in the middle. This must be Lord Jhorell, this man in a dark coat trimmed all around with ample strips of pale yellow fur, and goodness me if he isn't one handsome beast.

"My, my..."

"My Lord Jhorell." Rogher bows his head and his right knee touches the floor.

I blink. Is this the manner in which a man greets his best friend in these lands? Is this how his Lord wants to be greeted? Or am I after all watching Rogher make amends for something I don't know about?

But he's standing again, back straight, chin confidently up. The Lord's gaze sweeps him from head to toe and up again, and then the man smiles. It's not an unpleasant smile.

"So you've decided to return and grace our castle with your presence, Rogher the wandering knight?"

"I've come to place my sword once more at your service, my Lord Jhorell," Rogher replies evenly. "Hoping that you'd still find use for it, honed as it has been in numerous battles around Tendaraith."

"Yes, I've heard that you have indeed distinguished yourself," the Lord says. "The word does travel."

"I'm glad to hear that, my Lord, for I've never made it a secret where I've been trained and where the honor really belongs."

Rogher, Rogher, I never knew that you could be such a sly, flattering devil, nor that you could sound so earnest while speaking like that! The words seem to please Lord Jhorell, though, and he gestures towards the bench to his right.

"Welcome back, Knight Rogher! Come here, sit down and tell me about what you've seen! I also observe that you haven't returned alone."

Rogher glances at me, but I know my cue.

"Gracious Lord Jhorell, I greet you most humbly and hope you'll show me the kindness of letting me stay in your marvelous castle! Zyan Melleth is my name, minstrel my occupation as you could of course see from my attire, and it is my most earnest desire to put my modest abilities at your service and endeavor to entertain Your Lordship as best I can."

"You are most welcome, minstrel Zyan," Lord Jhorell says, clearly satisfied with my address. "Now sit down with me, both of you, and have something to eat. There'll be time enough to talk later, let's get you properly feasted first. I hear that you haven't had supper yet. Come, come over here."

I cannot think of a more tempting offer right now and follow Rogher as he inclines his head slightly and walks around the table to take a seat beside the Lord. They exchange a hearty hug before he takes his seat, and I slip onto the bench next to Rogher.

Lord Jhorell likes living well: the food is good and the beer tasty. It has a peculiarly sharp taste that could be unpleasant but is just mild enough to be wonderfully refreshing instead. After a few mouthfuls my ears begin to buzz, and I realize that the slight sting also masks how strong the brew is. Serving plates are passed around and I don't hesitate to eat my fill. Singing is work, and I expect to be called forth in that capacity before long, so I must make the most of this opportunity while it lasts.

Rogher tears into his meal with zeal while Lord Jhorell just eyes him with a peculiar little smile, every now and then urging him to try some delicacy he hasn't sampled yet. I'm sure we both know to appreciate this kindness, that he lets us quench our hunger first. At some point Rogher glances at me and the corner of his mouth twitches. The little grin says it all, and I can't help smiling in response as the last of my tension drains away.

My stomach lets me know that it's getting full, and I venture to examine my surroundings a little more while nibbling on a piece of bread. The long table could accommodate many more men than the small group seated by it, but then, that's how castles are furnished: for the maximum number of people they can hold. Not surprisingly, most of the company are men, but it's interesting to note that they all look relatively young. There are only one or two whose age I'd put around forty or higher, and they are the oldest ones present.

Nor can I see any woman who'd even remotely look like the Lady of the castle. Is she ill, or perhaps pregnant, or does she habitually keep to herself?

Everyone's attention focuses on Rogher, but they are thoughtful enough to stretch their patience and wait until he's ready to talk. Every now and then their eyes also skim over me, though only briefly, for I'm a minstrel and that means they know everything that is necessary to know about me. I can't see other minstrels, which means there is none living or even staying here at the moment. In a sense that's a pity because it's been a while since I met my countrymen, but it also thrills me. This is a new castle ¨C maybe there haven't been any minstrels recently, so that my stories and songs will be welcomed with that much greater enthusiasm?

Eventually Rogher sits back, takes a long swig from his tankard and wipes his mouth with the back of a hand. Everyone perks up.

"I must say, my Lord Jhorell, that I was mightily surprised to see this castle ready," Rogher says conversationally. "You've made haste indeed, though I hope it's not because of any urgent necessity I just haven't heard of?"

The Lord smiles, pleased.

"No, no," he says, "there is no imminent danger to this area. All the more reason therefore to take advantage of the peace and use all available forces to get the castle completed."

Rogher nods. "Very prudent, I'm sure. But still I'm surprised to see how quickly it has arisen."

"Well, Noragayll is not big," Lord Jhorell says. No doubt he's attempting to sound modest, and my words in praise of his abode make him beam at me. Yes, he's a very handsome man indeed.

"But tell me, Rogher my friend, have you heard any tidings from Renaolyn?" the Lord asks eagerly. "How is Lord Dolanir of Kevyne? And what of Malderyl Castle and its inhabitants?"

Rogher tells, sparingly but not reluctantly, as is his way. He's not one to blabber, he says the things he considers necessary, but Lord Jhorell seems to know exactly how to egg him on and get him talking. The people at the table are respectfully silent, listening to the news he's telling. I listen, too, and begin to understand everything better as bits and pieces of what Rogher has sometimes mentioned pop up from my memory and combine with what I'm hearing now.

These two go back a long way, a well over ten years. When the young lordling was sent up to Malderyl to learn manners and the use of arms, his friend Rogher accompanied him. But when Rogher returned here, or rather to the fortified manor where Jhorell was born, the Lord traveled all the way until Eryondheron. Yes indeed, something Lord Jhorell says makes it clear: he has been to the kingdom of Revnash, and he can never forget what he's seen there. Now I know how it's possible that this handsome castle exists here, so far away from the heartlands.

Of course the heart of the kingdom, the mighty Castle Deleon hasn't miraculously shifted anywhere, but its borders keep changing. When I left my home village and journeyed northwards for the first time, I glimpsed the black and yellow flags and the Raven of Revnash several hundred miles sooner than my uncles just a generation ago, let alone my more distant forebears. Yes, the kingdom just keeps growing and here I can see that its influence reaches even further, beyond its actual boundaries.

Lord Jhorell is not an old man by any reckoning, and yet he's seen more of the world than most people will ever even imagine. Every now and then I detect a wistful edge to his voice. He's built this castle in imitation of the ones he's seen on his travels, but has he realized that he's also building a trap for himself? A castle without a Lord is weak, and the only way to satisfy his wanderlust now is by listening to stories told by others. No wonder if he sounds a little curt at times; my guess is that the proud, handsome Lord is listening to his roving friend's account with jealousy that makes his insides ache.

I don't know if Rogher realizes it or not, but he keeps amazing me by the occasional flattery that he so skillfully weaves into his talk. I never knew he had that in him, but I guess he knows his friend and knows how to do it when and where it counts!

After a while I'm called forth to sing. That's a request I never turn down, and although it'd be wonderful to have someone to accompany me on a lute, being alone is no problem. My voice is amply good enough to tell a story even without embellishments, and every now and then I punctuate the songs with tunes from my flute. It's always such a pleasing thing to see how many a head is nodding, how many a foot is tapping in rhythm.

Rogher is going amazingly easy on his beer, but as the evening wears on, I begin to understand why. Verily, he knows his friend: people around us are beginning to retire, the group is thinning, but Lord Jhorell shows no sign of getting tired. His posture is alert, his eyes bright, he's completely focused on his conversation with Rogher and on hearing still some more tidings. And yet... as if he had something on his mind?

Eventually the day's long ride and the heady meal begin to take their toll. It's easier to stay awake when playing, but my eyelids are getting heavy. Rogher is struggling, too, and at length his words are interrupted by a huge yawn. Immediately he apologizes, but the Lord has taken the not so subtle hint and laughs aloud.

"I guess it's time for me to let you get some sleep," he says with a smirk. "Yes, I'd still want to hear more, but you've ridden a long way today. There's time to talk more tomorrow."

Rogher takes his leave and I follow him, noticing in the corner of my eye the assessing look Lord Jhorell sends after us. I'm not going to ask Rogher about it, though, not now. Right now all I want is someplace where I can lie down and close my eyes.

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