Chapter Ten
THE PRINCE AND THE EARL
The entrance to the Council Chamber was on the west side of the tower and inner side of the corridor. Since it was arched over by carven trees and since its doors were elaborately decorated with leaves and flowers I might have walked by unnoticing, had those doors not stood open.
The chamber within was crescentic in shape; or better, like the half of a pie with a bite--the spine of the tower--taken out of it. Its height was twice that of the corridor and its decorations similar, save that here the carven trees were vastly taller. Above the level of the corridor's ceiling, the chamber widened outward to the tower walls, so that it might be lit directly by a series of tall windows. Through these the setting sun streamed yet, filling the chamber with orange light. There were galleries in front of those windows in which spectators might sit and, on the main floor, a whole series of carven tables, with seats placed behind them which, I presumed, the Councillors had until recently been occupying. In such a setting the tables and seats seemed irrelevant and improbable, like furniture set down in a forest glade.
At the centre of the room, against the incurve of the tower's spine, was a raised dais. On it were set a table and seats in no way different from the others, save that they faced in the opposite direction. Two men were sitting there and examining a parchment, while a third hovered deferentially behind them. At our entry, both men rose and hastened beaming towards us.
The first was elderly and rather gaunt, with hair and beard that had been fox-red but were now subdued in hue by a peppering of white. Not only in the colouring of his hair but in his general aspect, he was like enough to my friend for me to be sure this was Avran's father, Prince Vindicon III Estantesec. His face was one on which sorrow and strain had traced deep lines, without subduing either its strength or its essential good humour. His eyes were as blue as Avran's, but his gaze had a more piercing quality: such eyes could be fierce, I was sure, but now they were alight with joy. His robes were of the same silver-grey as those of the soldiers at the gate, but very elaborately embroidered with a design of flowers and leaves in green. Thus clad, he seemed a prince indeed, the woodland prince proper to this carven forest. The fashion in which he embraced my friend, and their mutual happiness in this reunion, aroused in me an instant regard for the eslef that was destined only to grow in the days that followed.
The second man was younger, slimmer and graver. He was rather pale-skinned and with hair of a much less vivid hue than that of Avran and Ilven, yet enough like them in looks for me to guess he must be their elder brother, Helburnet, Earl of Breveg. His eyes, like Avran's, were blue and his robes blue also, but of a darker hue, without embroidery; however, he wore a collar and a belt in the form of golden leaves with stems intertwined. His greeting of Avran was warm enough, but having that hint of condescension which elder brothers usually display to younger.
Belatedly and embarrassedly I realized that I must shortly be presented to these princes of the land of Sandastre, yet did not know how to behave to them. Should I bow or kneel, or was there some other courtesy that ought be performed, of which I was not aware?
Ilven, with her quick perception, understood my embarrassment and whispered: "Please be at ease, Simon; remember that you are our friend!"
Almost at that moment, Avran turned and said: "Simon, my father and brother wish to greet you."
Just those words, nothing more formal; and yet here was the ruler of this land, offering to me his clasped hands in that gesture of friendship I was coming to know. Nevertheless, as I grasped them, I did bow my head. When I straightened, I found him smiling at me in a way that made me sure the extra courtesy had been appreciated. The eslef's hands were as warm as his smile. Those of his son, the Earl of Breveg, were cooler and the smile more restrained, but I did not doubt the genuineness of that second greeting.
The third man, he who had hovered behind the two princes, now came forward to be presented; a grey-haired man in snuff-brown robes, with a humorous, twinkling glance from under bushy brows. This was Enar Servessil, scribe to the Council. Rather to my startlement he addressed me in English: "Honoured to meet you, Master Simon, and at your service."
After our handshake he turned away to gather the parchments from the table but, when the eslef and Avran led the way out of the chamber, I found the scribe by my side.
"I take it you do not speak our language? Then you will find matters difficult for a while. As the indreslef your companion may have told you, few here speak English. For my part, I am quick in learning new tongues and did indeed travel once to your country, many years ago. A pleasant, green land it is, but oh! What a horribly long voyage away... It was from me that the indreslevei Helburnet and Avran and the aldreslef Ilven learned your language; consequently you must blame their faults on my tuition."
"But Avran and Ilven speak English very well!" I responded honestly; and, as he smiled, I asked: "What other languages do you have at command?"
"In London I learned to speak some French at your sovereign's court, though I doubt whether it be the French of France; oh, and a little Latin. Of our Rockalese tongues, I speak also Mentonese and some Dedestan--a difficult language, that. In most of southern Rockall, our own tongue serves well; but I can comprehend, and even articulate at need, the dialects of Barodda, Salastre and western Fachane."
"Perhaps, then, you might be generous enough to aid me in learning Sandastrian?"
"Certainly I should be happy to aid you, but I think you will find"--here he smiled again--"that your prime tuition will come from one of my pupils. There are other matters, however, on which I might advise you; on the laws and customs of this realm, its ordering and its politics."
I thanked him and he went on: "You will find few echoes of England`s laws and attitudes here, I'm afraid. Or rather, I should say that I find joy in those differences. Our land has been stable and well ordered for almost two thousand years, whereas yours has been torn with strife all too often. I trust you may pardon me, therefore, if I consider our system preferable?"
We were by now walking back along the corridor. The sun's light was fading fast and the carvings made it seem that we were walking through a woodland in late evening. So many small mysteries and surprises did those carvings present to my view that, to enjoy them better, I allowed our conversation to languish.
The scribe, perceiving my eager gazings, smiled again and fell silent also. Only when we turned down the shorter corridor toward the staircase did I belatedly respond.
"I'm sorry; this castle is fascinating me so much that I am being discourteous. These carvings, these paintings are truly impressive. You Sandastrians must love your forests, to decorate your Prince's palace thus."
"Indeed, we love our whole land; its forests, its glades, its meadows, our great Lake Vanadha, our rivers and our coasts. But"--and his eyes twinkled--"about the sea itself, most of us are less enthusiastic! Only a few vardai produce seamen--Varessavard, Eldunavard, Bernavard; and even they have stayed close to our coast in the centuries since the loss of the great fleet."
This incident sounded so interesting that I would have liked details. However, by then we had reached the staircase and, with massive Chancellor Eldrett holding open the door for us with courteous impatience, the moment passed.
The scribe lingered behind to speak to him and our conversation was not resumed. We descended only one floor and then, as we entered upon a new corridor, its very different decorations put the matter from my mind.
In the corridors of this sixth floor, the theme was not forest, but parkland, and the effect created not so much by the skill of woodcarvers--though, to be sure, a few carven bushes stood out from the walls--as by that of artists. All the paintings I had seen in my life hitherto had been flat and, as it now seemed to me, quite unrealistic. The Sandastrian painters, in contrast, contrived to create an illusion of depth, of substantiality, in a fashion that I had never conceived possible. We seemed to be walking not along a narrow corridor, but across a broad meadow. The very matting had been dyed grass green and had a texture like that of soft turf. The sunlight, shining almost horizontally towards us through a window at the end of the short corridor, caused our shadows to fall behind us and enhanced the sense of space. Only when we emerged into the corridor encircling the tower was the effect spoiled, not by any failure of the artists but by the pools of deep shadow between the windows, thus late in the evening with the sun so low.
Ilven was keeping step with me now. Wonderingly I said to her: "This is surely a castle of dreams! In the keeps of our English castles, we hang only a few tapestries and weapons on our walls and the walls are almost always of stone unadorned. Never have I seen anything to approach this! Why, in such surroundings and with such a princess walking beside me, I feel like a bewitched knight in the tales of King Arthur. Mayhap I'll awaken tomorrow, to find myself chained in some dungeon. That seems the customary fate of such knights after such enchantment."
She laughed merrily. "I hope very much that you won't! Moreover, I assure you I have neither magic powers nor any other fey qualities. Our people have always loved the countryside. If we must live in a stone fortress, why then, we are happier if we can make it seem like a woodland or a meadow. The chambers on this floor surround the spine of the tower; they have no windows. Yet, each time we walk out from those rooms, we are able to feel free of confinement."
The seventh floor was occupied by only two rooms, the Council Chamber and an equally large room where the councillors dined. This sixth floor and the one below it were divided into several smaller rooms, private apartments for the eslef and his immediate family.
As Ilven finished speaking, the Chancellor hastened ponderously by us to serve again as doorman and we entered into one of those rooms. Though much smaller than the Council Chamber, this room was quite large and long. It was windowless and lit instead by torches flaring and flickering beneath flues that conducted their smoke away. The walls were panelled with light-coloured wood, polished to show the grain; the matting underfoot had been dyed a warm red.
At the room's further end, a table was being set for dinner and high-backed seats placed at either side of it. Four servants were busy completing the setting of the table. Until they were done, we stood in a group in the middle of the room. The Prince and his elder son the Earl had been talking with Avran as they walked along; now Ilven joined in, with Eldrett and the scribe listening respectfully.
Since I could not understand their words, their conversation did not hold my attention. Instead I continued to look around me. How simple this room seemed, after the elaborate decoration of the corridors! On the walls were hung only a few portraits, in positions well away from the flaming torches. I perceived with surprise that, though the latter burned so brightly, they gave out little heat--pleasantly little, for the evening was warm enough.
Soon the servants finished with their tasks and left the room. The table appointments they had set for us seemed an odd mixture of luxury and relative plainness. There were great red goblets, of a splendour I had never seen matched; as they caught the light, they glowed like rubies. Yet in contrast, the bowls and trenchers were made of wood. It was an attractive red wood, admittedly, and highly polished, while the bowls had earthenware liners; but where was the gold or silver ware that one associated with the tables of a ruler? The chairs also were of a plainness surprising in a land where woodcarving attained such heights. One--the Prince's, I presumed--was a little larger than the others and set at centre behind the table, but even so it did not seem prominent or splendid enough for a ruler. Avran's words echoed in my mind: "An eslef is not a king." More and more, I was perceiving the difference.
I noticed idly that, while each chair's seat bore a fur cushion, the backs of the seats were not cushioned--save one, and even then the cushion was curiously small. Abruptly I looked again; surely that cushion had shifted?
No, it was not a cushion! A small cat-sized animal was perched on the chair back--not a cat, though, but an animal the likes of which I had never seen. Silky grey fur, it had; a tail like the brush of a fox, but grey also....
Forgetting my manners, I left the group and walked over to look more closely. A round head with large ears, furred at the top but webbed beneath; neat, small legs; and, gripping the chair back, not claws, but tiny fingers. What a strange creature!
I do not think the animal heard me, for I was moving quietly and the matting underfoot was soft. Rather, it became aware of my approach by some other sense. Suddenly, with turning its body, it swivelled its head almost completely about and I found that a pair of immense brown eyes were gazing up into mine. A snub nose was raised, a small mouth puckering appealingly; what a lovable creature!
It and I gazed at one another; then, as I moved yet closer, the animal turned quickly about. With a mighty leap it was in my arms, clinging to my chest with spreading fingers. Delightedly I stroked the silken fur of its head and back, a wave of affection coursing through me. The little animal at first chattered with pleasure; then it began a low crooning quite as pleasant to hear, and quite as soothing, as the purr of a kitten.
It was only then that I realized how silent the room had fallen and that everyone was watching us. Nor had I perceived hitherto that three ladies had joined the group while I and the little animal were making our acquaintance. Blushingly I turned about and would have stammered an apology, had not Avran spoken first.
"Simon my friend, that is truly amazing; you cannot know how amazing! What you hold is a vasian. They are animals of the high forest, not rare but rarely caught and hard to rear. If a man catches a vasian young and is patient, sometimes he may succeed in rearing it. The vasian will then become his, his wholly; it will tolerate other humans, but no more than that. If its owner dies, the vasian pines away and soon dies also. Never has it been known for a vasian to transfer its affection to another--or never till now. FFor this animal was my second brother's. He caught it young and he reared it, for he loved animals and was very patient. As I told you on the boat, my brother was murdered--oh, three months ago. Since that time, his vasian has pined and refused food, drinking only a little water. We had expected it would die also. But now.... Yes, Simon, it is amazing!"
Indeed, they were all eyeing me in wonderment, some exchanging quiet comments in their own language. Embarrassed and uncertain how to respond, I said nothing, continuing to stroke the quietly crooning animal that clung to me, until Avran beckoned me forward to be presented to the ladies.
One was tall, slim and grey-haired, clad like the eslef in silver-grey cloth elaborately embroidered. This was the eslevar Felguen, wife of Prince Vindicon III Estantesec and mother of Avran and Ilven. On introduction to her, I managed to kneel respectfully--this action set the vasian chattering with resentment-but to my startlement she embraced me and raised me to my feet.
"Bazatie... etreyen, Simon," the eslevar said softly. Then she made some remark to Ilven that I did not understand, smiling at me the while.
Ilven was smiling also. "My mother says that, since our brother's vasian has thus accepted you, she accepts you also--that you will have her affection, as a new son. She does not know yet that you have twice saved Avran's life. When she does, she will recognize how wise was her quick judgement."
I blushed anew and uttered some stammering words of appreciation. The vasian meantime had climbed onto my shoulder and, with feet gripping it and a soft hand about my neck, was crooning happily into my ear. Though this was distracting, at least it freed my own hands to greet the other two ladies, the memasain Maderen asar Estantesec and Eyen asar Servessil, wives of the chancellor and the scribe, come to join us for dinner.
The introductions over, the Prince led the way to the table. I found myself allocated the seat upon the back of which my vasian--for so I must now regard him-had been perched. Next to me at left was Ilven and at right, Avran; opposite were the Chancellor and his lady. We stood in respectful silence while the Chancellor intoned some sonorous phrases--a grace, I presumed. Then, when the Prince and Princess had seated themselves, we others seated ourselves also.
The food was all strange to me. We were brought platters of unfamiliar meats covered with aromatic sauces or heaped with vegetables of strange texture and taste. Following the example of the others, I transferred to my trencher the portions I felt I dared try, finding every item to be palatable and some even delicious. Next, a strange greenish wine was poured into our goblets by the servants. As soon as I was sure that no ritual of toasting had to be undergone, I tried it and found it slightly bitter but surprisingly refreshing.
The platters were not circulated a second time and our goblets were only twice refilled; there was none of the heavy eating and drinking one encountered at tables of the wealthy in England. With the second refilling of the goblets, dishes of fruit were successively brought round to us. There were purple berries, looking like bilberries formed in quincunx but tasting curiously nutty; globular fruit like huge orange gooseberries, tartly sweet; a heart-shaped, pear-like fruit that I did not sample; and blue berries that looked like plum-sized, miscoloured rose-hips. That indeed, as I later learned, is exactly what these were-fruits from the great rose-bushes ringing the hill of Sandarro.
Ilven pointed to them. "Take some of those berries and offer them to your vasian," she suggested. "My brother used to give them to him as a special treat."
I took a handful and offered one to the little animal, realizing again, as I did so, that everyone was watching. My vasian gave a crooning cry of pleasure--clearly could I sense that pleasure--and, taking it from me, ate it with the delicacy of a court lady eating a large strawberry. A second was accepted, then a third; but that, it seemed, was enough--I knew it was enough even before the gentle fingers thrust the fourth away. This restriction was wise indeed when the animal had eaten nothing for so long. After that, he settled back on my shoulder and resumed his contented crooning.
My audience exchanged phrases that seemed to echo anew their earlier surprise. Certainly, if the vasian was accepting fruit from me, he had transferred his affection to me--and so suddenly! Unprecedented, indeed! Ilven, in particular, was eyeing me with wonderment, yet her approval was also very evident.
"Tomorrow you must take him out into the garden," she said. "He eats principally leaves, the leaves of trees and bushes; he will find what he wants. Tonight he will sleep beside you, if you so permit. You'll find a vasian is better to have by you than any English watchdog. If danger threatens, he will awaken you without noise; while if there is no danger, his presence and watchfulness will permit you to sleep undisturbed. They are very--oh, sensitive.... I cannot explain."
"Thank you for your advice," I responded sincerely. "Yet I have been wondering: did your brother have a name for him?"
She laughed. "A vasian does not truly need a name, for one never needs to call it. But yes, my brother did have a name for him; he called him Mekret. In your language, mekret means--oh, rascal, I suppose!"
I laughed in my turn and, reaching up, gently scratched the head of the vasian. "Well then, I think I'll name him Rascal, if he doesn't mind!" And he gave an amiable squeak, rubbing his head against mine.
By then the servants had retired from the chamber. Soon Avran and his father were deep in conversation, the Princess and the Chancellor making occasional interjections and the others listening intently. My name was several times mentioned and repeatedly there were glances my way, so that again I felt embarrassed. However, the steady humming croon of Rascal was curiously reassuring, making me feel confident that all was well and would continue to be well.
Nevertheless, it seemed an eternity before Avran addressed me. "Our pardon, Simon, but there was much to explain and to discuss. The eslef and elslevar, my father and mother, confirm that you are welcome here in Sandarro. You must consider our land to be your home henceforward, not merely till your quest begins but forever, if you so desire. My family feels, as I do, that our debt to you is profound."
Avran paused, as if to better assemble his thoughts. Indeed, for a moment he seemed somewhat embarrassed; but then he smiled at me almost mischievously and resumed speaking.
"However, my father wishes for the moment to conceal, for the political reasons you understand, the full story of our adventures. Moreover, he trusts that, while you learn our language and our ways, we Sandastrians may benefit from your own knowledge of the long bow. Thus he proposes, with your agreement, that you take on the task of instructing some of our soldiers in its use. The Council at large will be notified only that you are an expert brought from England for that purpose. So that your commands to the soldiers will be heeded, he promises that, at the next meeting of the Ruling Council, you will be appointed to the rank of centenar."
I was rather startled by this proposal, but quite flattered. How fast I had progressed in these few days, from being merely a younger son rejected by his father as unsuited to a soldier's life to becoming an instructor of soldiers-and appointed to high rank, at that! But Avran was speaking again.
"Lastly"--and here Avran grinned broadly--"my father feels that your family name--Branthaite.... Branswaite--no, even I cannot say it! --will cause too many problems of pronunciation for we Sandastrians. In view of the unprecedented occurrence of this evening, he suggests instead that, while you are among us, you should take the name Simon Vasianavar--Simon, friend of vasians. Be assured that it is a name of honour, for the vasianar are regarded with high respect, not only by we Sandastrians but also by the other peoples of southern Rockall. And it is a name much, much easier to pronounce!"
I was overwhelmed. "Please tell the Prince that--oh, what can I say? That I am deeply honoured; that I do not merit such great courtesy, but that I shall strive to merit it".
It was a clumsy speech, but heartfelt. Even before Avran translated, I knew by the smiles of those about me that its intent, at least, was understood.
Thus it chanced that, having left my own home far behind, I found--at least for a while--a new one that surpassed my dreams. However, I could not anticipate the perils that lay ahead. Had I done so, I might have sought the earliest ship back to England!
foreword chapters 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 (more chapters will appear in the future)
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