Quentin peeped behind the trailing baldachin, expecting the King to emerge from behind it at any moment. But even as he did so a hush fell over the noisy hall. The trumpets sounded a ringing flourish and in swept King Eskevar and Queen Alinea. They moved slowly through the hall toward the high table, stopping to offer a greeting to their guests along the way.

Quentin was much relieved to see that Eskevar, though grave and gaunt, moved with a spring in his step and with head erect; the crown encircled his head with a ring of fiery red gold. If anything, the King’s recent illness had given him an aspect of determined strength, of invincibility.

The royal couple moved to the dais, stopping at Quentin’s place at the far end of the table before moving on to their own chairs. “I am glad to see you safely under my roof again, my son.” The King placed his hands on Quentin’s shoulders. “Let me say again that I am sorry for your hurt.”

“It is ever my joy to sit at table with you, my Lord. And we have said enough already of Toli’s and my trials. I am assured that my arm will be as fit as ever in no time.”

“That is good news, Quentin,” said Alinea. She smiled with a warmth which made all feel welcome and at ease.

“Come to me tonight after the games and we will sit together and talk,” said Eskevar. Quentin was about to speak, but Alinea broke in quickly.

“My Lord, you have forgotten that young people have more amusing pursuits than to sit in chamber on a pleasant summer’s eve,”

“Of course!” Eskevar laughed. “Forgive me. Yes, I had forgotten. There will be time enough for talking. Enjoy your evening, my young friends. I will see you on the morrow.”

They moved off, and Bria leaned near to Quentin and whispered, “Your first night back and I was afraid you would be my father’s captive.” Her green eyes held his for a moment. “Oh, do not ever leave again.”

“There is no place I would rather be than right here with you. But I think Durwin has plans for me this night, even if Eskevar does not. You have forgotten so quickly?”

“My poor darling, forgive me. I am a selfish woman. I would have you all to myself always. But may we not walk once around the garden? It is so lovely, and I have missed you so.”

One turn around the garden gave way to another, and then another. The two young couples had started off together, but Quentin soon lost sight of Toli and Esme among the winding paths.

The air was soft and warm and full of the perfume of the flora glowing softly in the moonlight in pale pastel hues. They had spoken of nothing and of nonsense and had laughed at their intimate jests, but now strolled in silence.

“Was it very bad for you?” asked Bria suddenly, but in an abstract way which made Quentin wonder what she meant.

“Being captured? Yes. I hope never to endure it again.”

“There is another kind of captivity which is terrible.”

“And that is?”

“Not knowing. When someone you love is far away and you cannot go to him, be with him, when you do not know what may happen to him… I was worried about you. I knew something horrible had happened.”

They walked along without speaking again for a long time. Bria sighed heavily, and Quentin murmured, “There is more on your mind, my love. What is it? Tell me.”

“I am ashamed of myself for thinking it,” Bria admitted reluctantly. “I know there is going to be a war-”

“Who has told you that?”

“No one, and no one need tell me. I just know it. Ever since you got back I have seen nothing but Theido’s dark looks, and Ronsard has been sending messengers far and wide. You do not deny it, so it must be.”

“Yes, war is a fair possibility,” agreed Quentin.

“A fair certainty,” she corrected him. “I do not want you to go. You are injured. You would not have to go. You could stay here with me.”

“You know as well as I that would not be possible.”

“Too well I know it. The women of my family have long sent their men into battle-some have even ridden by their side. That is what makes me so ashamed. I do not care about any of that; I only want you safe.”

“Ah, Bria. How little I know you. You are possessed of an iron will and a spirit that shrinks from nothing under the heavens. I do not doubt that you could launch a thousand ships and send whole legions into battle; yet you tremble at the thought of just one soldier going away.”

“Yes, how little you know me if you think you are nothing more to me than just one soldier.” She sounded hurt and angry. Quentin, disappointed at his bungling comment, was about to make another attempt at soothing her when Darwin’s bellow boomed out

“There you are! I thought I would find you here in the only place lovers may be alone respectfully. I do not blame you for wishing to put off the ordeal at hand, but the sooner it is over the sooner healing can begin.”

“You are right, Durwin, though I little welcome your remedy. Let us go.” He turned to Bria to take his leave.

“I am going, too. You may need a woman’s touch. Besides, if someone does not watch you very closely, Durwin, you may break the wrong arm.”

“Please!” shouted Quentin in mock horror. “It is my arm you are talking about. Have a care!” Bria laughed, Quentin set his jaw and the three marched off.

TWENTY-SEVEN

“QUENTIN, ARE you sleeping?” Toli crept to the high, wide bed on which his master rested. Quentin opened his eyes when Toli came near.

“No, only resting.” Both looked at his freshly bandaged arm, set with splints of bone and wrapped in new linen. A sling of forest green-to match his cloak-was bound around his arm which rested on his chest. “Is it time?”

“Yes. The council will sit within the hour. You wish me to go in your stead?”

“No, I feel much better. We will both go. Has everyone arrived?” Quentin raised himself up off the bed and swung his legs over the edge. Toli placed a hand under his arm and helped him.

“The lords of the flatlands have not arrived, but are expected to be late. Theirs is a far journey. But Eskevar thinks it best not to put off beginning.

“The others are here, or will arrive shortly. Rudd, Dilg, Benniot and Fincher, Wertwin, Ameronis and Lupollen-those I have already seen.”

“Those are enough to ratify any decision the King might make, though I do not believe there will be dissent.”

“Do not be too certain of that. Mensandor has been long at peace, and men grow soft. Some will wish to avoid conflict at any price.”

“Then we must make them see that is impossible.” He looked at his friend sadly. “Toli, I do not love war, you know that. But I have seen enough to know that it has come to us whether we will or no. We have no choice if this land is to remain free.”

They walked from Quentin’s apartment to the round, high-domed council chamber in the north tower, passing through the walled courtyard where the King sometimes held vigil when weighty matters were bearing on his mind. The courtyard was clean and fresh and the sun directly overhead.

As they entered the yard Theido and Ronsard, deep in discussion with another, waved them over. “Ah, Quentin! It looks as though Durwin has done his worst on you. How do you feel?”

“Fit enough. He wanted to keep me abed with a potion of his, but I declined. Time is elixir enough.”

“Do you know Lord Wertwin?” Theido introduced the man standing with them.

“He has some interesting tales to tell in council,” added Ronsard.

“Yes, your lands lie to the south of here, do they not?” inquired Quentin.

“That is correct. Just beyond Pelgrin, above Persch.” The man smiled warmly, and Quentin noticed he was missing a tooth in his lower jaw; but that and his leathery, weather-beaten visage gave the lord the rugged appearance of a tenacious fighter.

“Sir, if you do not mind my asking, however did you come so soon? It would take a messenger two days to reach you.”