Martin said, What of Hal?
Yes, added Brendan, should he be recalled?
As to that, replied Reinman before the Duke could answer, for the time being, the Prince would appreciate it if we kept word of the Western muster from Eastern ears.
Henry waved the captain to a chair and held up his hand. Martin was standing closest to the door, so he opened it and motioned the servants waiting outside to enter. Serve us, then leave us, the Duke told his staff.
The servants hurried to make sure everyone at the table was supplied with more food and drink, then left.
Sending the servants away? asked Robert.
They gossip, and while I trust all in this household, a stray word to a merchant, or a visiting seaman, would be unfortunate He paused, Now, Jason, what arent you telling us?
Reinman smiled. Just rumours. Before I left Rillanon last it was being said the King was ill, again.
Henry sat back. Cousin Gregory was never the man his father was, he said softly. And with no sons
He would save a lot of trouble naming Oliver as his heir, said Robert.
Reinman sat back. Prince Edward would appreciate that, he observed dryly. The Prince of Krondor can hardly wait for the King to name another to the post and let him retire back to civilization as he likes to call the capital. Reinman shrugged. As capitals go, Krondors not such a bad place, though it does lack a certain grandeur. Edward lives in deathly fear that somehow hes going to make a terrible mistake one day and end up King. They all laughed.
Eddie was always a caretaker appointment, said Henry thoughtfully. He has no political support and no ambition. I think if the Congress rallied and named him King after Gregory, hed find a way to reject the crown and run off to his estates. He has a lavish villa on a small island off Roldem.
Robert added, Where it is said his wife spends most of her time he glanced at the ladies reviewing the household guard.
The Duchess raised an eyebrow. Who are reputed to all be very handsome, very young and very tall.
Countess Marriann and the Lady Bethany both laughed out loud at the remarks, while the two boys exchanged glances before Brendans eyes widened and he said, Oh!
Marriages of state are not always what they might be, said his mother, as if that was all that needed to be added.
Reinman seemed uncomfortable. You were speaking of Hal, he said. How is he doing at that school in Roldem?
That school in Roldem was the royal university, the finest educational facility in the world. It had been created originally for Roldems nobility and royalty as a place where they could study art, music, history, and the natural sciences, as well as magic and military skills. But over the years it had attracted the best from every surrounding kingdom and the Empire, until it had become almost a necessity for any young man of rank seeking to advance.
No one from the Far Coast has attended before, said Henry, but Hal seems to be enjoying it, or at least so his letters suggest.
Hes entering the Masters Court Championship, said Brendan to the captain.
Thats a feather in his cap if he wins, said Reinman.
Henry glanced at a shuttered window, as if he could somehow see the still-pouring rain outside. Given the distance, its about midday in Roldem. He may be competing now, if he hasnt already been eliminated.
The swordsman lunged while the crowed watched in silent admiration as the combatants parried furiously. They were evenly matched and this was the first of three bouts to name the new Champion of the Masters Court.
The dark-haired youth from the Far Coast of the Kingdom had been an unexpected challenger who had been discounted by the betting touts in the early rounds. As he rose rapidly, vanquishing his first three opponents easily, the betting had shifted quickly, until now he was considered an even bet to emerge as the new champion.
His opponent had been the favourite, a blond youth of roughly the same age.
Henry conDoin, eldest son of Duke Henry of Crydee, parried, riposted, then feinted left and lunged right. Touché! cried out the Master of the Court.
The crowd erupted in appreciative applause.
The two combatants exchanged bows and retired to separate corners of the huge duelling hall that was the heart of the Masters Court in Roldem City.
The blond youth returned to stand by his father. Hes very good.
Talwin Hawkins, the thirty-second Champion of the Masters Court, nodded, then smiled at his son. Almost as good as you. Youll have to be a little more focused. Even though you watched him, you didnt expect him to be this quick. Now he can take risks, because he only needs one touch to win. You need two.
Ty Hawkins turned a slightly sour expression on his father. He knew he was right, for young Tyrone Hawkins, the twenty-five-year-old son of a former champion, had been such a dominating force in the Masters Court as a student that he had entered the competition a heavy favourite. That reputation had aided him in easily disposing of all his early opponents, and he had become a little too self-confident in his fathers estimation.
He favours a triple combination, Tal said to his son. Looking into the young mans face he considered how much he resembled his mother, Teal, and how deeply Tal had come to love him, even though he wasnt his true father. Large blue eyes and a dusting of freckles gave a boyish countenance to a strong young face, with a smile that made him charming to the ladies. If you can recognize it as he begins, he went on, you can get under his second feint and reach him.
And if I dont recognize it, hell win the match, Ty said wryly.
Returning the lads crooked smile, Tal said, Worse things happen.
True, said Ty. Nobody dies here usually.
That got him a dark look from his father, for part of the lore of the Masters Court was the attempt on his fathers life by two opponents that had ended in the first intentional bloodshed in the Court in a hundred and fifty years.
Waiting for the second round of the final bout to be signalled, both young men regarded their surroundings. Ty had been to the training floor countless times, but for Henry it was his first visit to the Court; indeed it was his first visit to Roldem. He had seen this hall for the first time when he was allowed his four practice bouts against the instructors only two days ago.
Yet for both young men the grandeur of the vast hall was still daunting. Large carved wooden columns surrounded a massive wooden floor which had been polished to a gleam like metal, like burnished copper. Intricate patterns had been worked into the floor. These served a function beyond aesthetics, for each pattern defined a duelling area, from the confined, narrow duelling path for rapier fencing, to the larger octagon for longer blades.
This was the reason the Masters Court existed.
More than two centuries earlier, the King of Roldem had commanded a tourney to name the greatest swordsman in the world. Contestants of all rank noble and common had travelled from as far away as the southernmost province of the Empire of Great Kesh, the distant Free Cities of Natal, and all points in between. The prize had been fabled: a golden broadsword studded with gems. It was a prize unmatched in the kingdoms history.