The King's Name by Jo Walton
Urdo smiled to hear this stream of nonsense as he mounted the summerhorse. “This is Harvest,” he said, patting her face.
“Did Dalmer find you?” I asked, the name reminding me uneasily of the destruction of the supplies.
“Yes, he did,” Urdo said, looking grim as we started to move off. “There is no stored food here at all. I think Marchel meant Magor to be a problem for us. I have no intention of getting caught up down here longer than I have to. But we can’t leave it empty to be reoccupied either. I had wondered about leaving the Isarnagans as guards, but I suspect they’d terrorize the countryside. We’ll have to leave a pennon at least, preferably one of those which is usually here. If Masarn does not catch up with Marchel we should leave two. What did you do with the farmers?”
I rode close beside him so we could talk without being much overheard. “Sent them off to Derwen, out of the way. I can send them back again.”
“We’re going to have to go to Derwen anyway,” Urdo said. “Since there’s no way from here over the mountains to Nant Gefalion we have to go up the track from Derwen. We also need to get hold of supplies. The problem with moving alae around like pieces on a fidchel board is feeding them on the squares they get to. I will set Dalmer and Celemon working on the problem, but it is a problem.”
“There are some supplies at Derwen, but you will have to speak to Nodol about them,” I said. “Why do we have to go to Nant Gefalion? Is Cinvar coming down that way? I sent Hiveth’s pennon up to block it. The last news I have there was no trouble there. Oh, and he had invited Marchel’s sons to join us, and sent them to Derwen where they are safe with my mother.”
“Invited?” Urdo frowned. “You haven’t been taking hostages?”
“No. Duncan and my mother wanted to, but I insisted it would be an invitation.”
“Good.” Urdo sighed. “I’ll have a word with them when we get to Derwen and see if they’d like to join the ala. I would have done it years ago, except they never let me know they were back here, so I felt they might not want my attention.” We threaded our way past the house, along to where the new stable blocks were. “Marchel isn’t the real problem though. Nor is Arling, even armed with mysterious machines from Caer Custenn. In some ways he’s a blessing because he’s an obvious foreign invasion.”
“Morthu,” I said.
“Morthu could be brought to trial for treason with the evidence of Rigg’s letter,” Urdo said. “The real problem is the kings, and you know it. We have to put this revolt down as quickly as we can and let them know that having civil wars just isn’t an acceptable way to settle differences anymore. By the latest news I have none of them have done anything beyond raising their levies, which is no crime. None of them, that is, except Cinvar, who has killed two men of Cadraith’s who happened to be visiting him and declared that he will have none of my rule. I have sent Luth and ap Erbin up into Tevin to help Alfwin against Arling when he lands. I have written to Cadraith and ap Meneth to come to Tathal to join us there. If we crush Cinvar quickly then maybe Flavien and Cinon will see the folly of their plans.”
“What about Ayl?” I asked.
“Ayl can learn from example,” Urdo said grimly.
“You don’t think he might join Arling?”
“It’s not impossible. But there was no news of Arling landing when I left Caer Tanaga, and Marchel and Cinvar were already a problem. I think this is the right order to tackle them in. I’ve written to Ayl, for whatever good that will do. I’ve left half an ala in Caer Tanaga for all that I have a whole ala here—I recalled all the veterans who live nearby.” He grinned. “Like Masarn. They all came. I’m proud of them. Most of them are here, and I left three pennons under Gormant who are used to fighting together.”
“And what about Angas?” I almost didn’t want to ask.
Urdo sighed again. There was a guard on the door of the first stable block; we returned his signal that all was well as we rode past him. “Angas is another sort of problem. I need to talk to Angas. As you said in your letter, Angas needs someone to sort things out for him. We need to bring Morthu to justice and then Angas’s problems will go away, I think. In any case, Angas is right up in Demedia; it will take him half a month or more to get anywhere he can be a problem. Invading Bregheda, well, it’s possible, but he knows the terrain well enough to know how foolish it would be. The land is packed thick with mountains. Everyone knows that in all Penda’s wars with Borthas, Mardol was the only winner, nibbling away at the south instead of going head-on at the hills. Invading Bregheda from the north would be even more foolish.”
“I wish there was some way of knowing what’s going on far away,” I said. “I’m worrying about Angas and Arling, and we just can’t know, it’s too far. And if Morthu has infiltrated the red-cloaks then we don’t know what news to trust.”
“Elenn is looking after the messages for the time being,” Urdo said. “And I have sent to Garah to ask her to come back to Caer Tanaga and do her old job for the emergency. Nothing is likely to get lost or copied at Caer Tanaga with them there. It does no good to worry about it anyway.”
“You still haven’t said why Nant Gefalion rather than up the highroad to Caer Gloran,” I reminded him as we exchanged signals with the guard on the second door.
“I’m going to send the Isarnagans up the highroad. They can hold it; they can prevent people coming back down it at speed. But we ought to go through Nant Gefalion to get the supplies from Derwen, send the farmers back here. And also, if Cinvar isn’t invading south, that way we’ll be more likely to surprise him coming up there.”
“If we head off for Derwen in the morning, and spend tomorrow night there, we won’t be pushing the horses too hard. Then Nant Gefalion is a day from there, and we can be at Caer Gloran the afternoon of the next day,” I said.
Urdo raised his chin. “I also want to take your nephews to your mother. Galbian is too young to rule here without help, and he’s been spoiled, you’re right. He needs a few years in the ala to sort him out. I thought when all this is over we might leave your man Duncan as steward of Derwen and I might take Galbian to Caer Tanaga for training. What do you think?”
“Duncan’s dead,” I said. “Ten days ago, in the fighting. But there must be somebody who can do it.”
“I’ll think about it,” Urdo said. Then he drew Harvest gently to a halt, for we were almost around the second stable and could already see a press of armigers outside the third. I halted beside him. “Will you stay down here or come up to Tathal with me?”
“I will certainly come,” I said, without hesitation. “Veniva can look after the day-to-day affairs of Derwen. And the ala is ready, of course. I have also raised the militia, and though some will be needed for the harvest we could take the rest. They know our signals and they may be a help against Cinvar.”
“Are you sure Derwen can risk them?” Urdo asked.
I thought of the militia for a moment, all those young and eager farmers who came to fight at my word. They were my people, my responsibility, even as my armigers were, even as the land was. They trusted me to make choices for them that might kill them, that would kill some of them, inevitably. “Yes,” I said, after a moment. “If we lose, then there is no holding Derwen alone, no matter how many troops are there. I would not risk my people for glory, nor myself neither, not now I have a duty to the land.” I looked over at him, sitting still and patient on the summerhorse, listening to me. Then I bit my lip and looked away, seeing and not seeing the two pennons clustered outside the stable. “I joined the ala because I wanted to fight, and for a long time that’s all it was for me; the glory, the skills, the comradeship. Most of the war I was fighting for the Peace because you said it was a good thing and I was prepared to leave the thinking to you. But eventually I did realize what it was we were fighting for, what the Peace is, what the Law is; it is more than any single person, and better for everyone. You said after Foreth that our honor lay in how well the Peace was kept, breath by breath, all our da
I looked back at Urdo, and saw to my amazement that there were tears on his face. He smiled at me. “Then we will take your militia with us,” he said. “Now, let us deal with these Malms.”
We rode on. The stable doors were closed, but not barred on the outside. Ap Selevan reported to Urdo that nothing had happened while they were waiting. I greeted old friends in ap Selevan’s pennon, and in Elwith’s. I was exchanging a few words with ap Padarn when there came a movement from within the stable.
Everyone turned and lowered their spears toward the doors as they swung open. I was expecting a suicidal rush forward and moved Thunder ahead, between Urdo and the doors.
Instead a single tiny woman walked out, her bare head held high. Her hair was completely gray now but I would have known her anywhere. Many of the armigers recognized her, and even those that did not fell back a little before her. She ignored them as if they did not exist. I had known that Amala had gone to Narlahena with Marchel, but had never thought she might have come back with her. She walked in silence across the muddy stable yard toward us and stopped in front of Urdo. She was wearing a white drape embroidered in blue and gold, and she did not look in the least as if she had been killing horses in it. She seemed as fresh as if she had just come from the bathhouse.
She stood there in silence for a moment, looking at us. Always before Amala had made me feel ungainly and barbaric. Now, even though I was wearing battle-stained armor, I was only aware how very frail she was. She must have been almost seventy years old.
“Why are you here, wife of Thurrig?” Urdo asked, with no warmth in his voice.
“I was not exiled from Tir Tanagiri,” Amala said, biting off the words in her familiar way.
“True,” Urdo said. “You left of your own choice, and were free to return in peace at any time and rejoin the rest of your family. But your daughter was not so free, and nor were you free to return and take up arms against me.”
“Take up arms?” Amala said, raising her bare arms almost as if she were about to take an oath, and making it abundantly clear that she was weaponless.
“Enough of this,” Urdo said, frowning. “Marchel has invaded us and you came here with her. You, and those with you, stand accused of well-poisoning, horse-murder, and destruction of supplies. By the law you have earned death, and I have force enough here to take you all. What is to prevent me?”
“Will you speak with me in private?” Amala asked, looking around at the waiting pennons.
“Are you here as a herald?” Urdo asked.
“I have no branches, but we shall say I am if it pleases you,” she replied. The question now was where we should go. These stables were right across Magor from the hall, which was the only place we could really offer any hospitality. It was even further to the stockade. Urdo solved this by dismounting, giving Harvest’s reins to Ulf, who was the nearest, and leading Amala off toward the place where the memorials for the dead dukes of Magor lay. I gave ap Padarn Thunder’s reins. I told ap Selevan to keep the rest ready at the stable doors and to kill the Malms if they made any attempt to break out. Then I hurried off after them.
We sat down on the carved rock that recorded the dates of Duke Galba’s life, and of his wife’s. Young Galba’s stone was nearby, and I realized that soon we would be burning Aurien, and cutting her name into it beside his.
“So,” Urdo said when we were settled. “Tell me why I should not just set fire to that stable block and solve my whole problem?”
“Even if you cared nothing that Thurrig would avenge me,” she said, crisply, “would you have war with Narlahena?”
Urdo made a sound that was cousin to a laugh. “It would seem that I have it whether I would or not. Two alae landed is a little much for a fishing trip gone astray.”
“Then you have thought about the fleet it took to bring them here?” Amala said. I frowned. I had not. “King Gomoarion is supporting Marchel’s venture, yes, in hope of easy gain, plunder, and a victory for the White God. Also, it is the payment he has made her for acting all these years as his cavalry commander. But he has many more alae, and a strong fleet. All who came here are volunteers, and he has declared no war on you.”
“A nice distinction,” Urdo said. “So why does that change if I treat you and your people as you deserve?”
“His son is among the rabble of grooms and cooks taking refuge in that stable. Gomoarion did not know he was here, and nor did Marchel. He stowed away on board, he was so full of zeal to see the victory of the White God in another land.” Amala touched a hand to her hair, looking suddenly weary. “All of this well-poisoning and slaughter of horses was at Gomoarionsson’s instigation. His father will pay you a fine ransom for his safe return to Narlahena, but he would lay the land waste if harm came to him.”
“He could try,” Urdo said. Laying the land waste, even with alae and a fleet, was far from easy. It would be difficult for him to do even what we had done in Oriel in the way of destruction, as he had no nearby base. But even if he only stopped the Narlahenan merchant ships from crossing to trade with us, that would be very bad. An outright invasion, with such a long supply line, would be costly for us, even if he could only win if he had allies here. Though that idea did not seem as comforting as it might. “So what do you suggest, wife of Thurrig?” Urdo continued.
Amala smiled wryly. “I have been suggesting that we entrust ourselves to your honor since before the gates were opened. Some among us have been longing to spend their lives winning the praise of the White God for killing pagans. Is Raul here, Urdo? It might do them good to talk to him. But I would beg of you to give us a ship that we might return to Narlahena in peace.”
Urdo frowned. “Impossible,” he said. “But if you will all surrender fully I will spare your lives, counting these crimes but excess of zeal.”
Amala pursed her lips, and I guessed that she had never really thought she would get a ship. “And if I were to accept that, and if we were to swear not to make war upon you, would you send us all to Thansethan?”
Urdo hesitated. It was too far, across too dubious ground, and Thansethan’s loyalty was not certain. Yet what else could he do with them, to keep them secure? I could not offer to keep them here or at Derwen; the ala would not harbor horsekillers and here there might still be people who sympathized with them. The association of ideas gave me the answer. “We could send them to Dun Morr,” I said, turning to Urdo. “There are enough Isarnagans there who could do with help on the farms and could keep an eye on them. They won’t mistreat them and Lew would be delighted to have the duty. Also, there isn’t anywhere to land on that coast until you get all the way to Tapit Point, so it’s unlikely the Narlahenans could mount a rescue.”
“Good,” Urdo said. “That will do for the mass of them, if they will only be induced to surrender. That would also be a good thing for those who surrendered in the field.” He turned to Amala. “Would you accept that?”
“For those who surrendered in the field and for the rabble in the stables, yes.” She hesitated a moment. “Some of them are young and foolish and wish for a martyr’s crown. You should ask them to give up their arms and swear by the Holy Father that they will not fight. Make sure priests are there, Raul and Father Cinwil. They are very young, and they may not see life as preferable.” She hesitated again, looking down at the gravemarker she was sitting on and then up at Urdo. She looked old and frail and tentative. “I know you would not wish to kill them after showing such leniency. But for myself, and for Gomoarionsson?”
“I would send you to Thurrig,” Urdo said, “but the times are very uncertain. I will send to tell him you are safe, and that your grandsons are safe at Derwen. You may wait there with them if you choose, or you may go to Caer Tanaga until I can deliver you
“Will we give the Isarnagans the ransom when it comes?” I asked.
“Half of it,” Urdo said. “And we will set it high.”
“Where is Thurrig?” Amala asked.
Urdo laughed. “In Caer Thanbard, or sailing against the pirates, where would he be? Have you heard different?”
Amala smiled, thin-lipped. “I will accept your conditions,” she said. “But you must let me go back into that terrible stable and make Gomoarionsson see this as a way forward.”
— 9 —
Here long ago
light was born
as every morning
light is born
thy gift,
ever renewed
as each day brings
a new dawn.
This is the world’s
axle-point
as is each step
on the turning world.
Standing here still
as the world turns
toward red dawn
I know
light is how I see
light is what I see
I know myself
seeing the light.
Thanks from my heart
Albian, Radiant Sun,
thy gift
to see myself
in thy light.
— Hymn to Dawn
Amala went back into the stable and eventually came out with a sullen-looking bunch of Malms. They all looked very young. I heard afterward she had needed to get two of the others to sit on Gomoarionsson before he would agree to surrender on Urdo’s very generous terms. We sent most of them out under escort to the Isarnagans in the stockade, but Celemon managed to fit Amala and Gomoarionsson into the hall.