XXIX
In the weeks following the lawmoot, the friendship that existed between Thalo and Awldano blossomed into an altogether firmer bond. Whenever they had a moment spare, each would seek out the other and speak at length about weighty matters, and about trivial matters just the same, or else their tongues would be much too busy to say anything at all. They said nothing about this to anyone.
‘I do not expect,’ said Awldano, ‘that my father will be all too chuffed when he learns what you have done to me. You are a capable man, Thalo, but your glory is already his, and your wealth likewise. He will surely bid me consider a more profitable match, and that is no headache I am eager to suffer. No, I shall take some time to determine how I might best lessen his opposition.’
This pleased Thalo greatly—anything to which Karvalo was opposed was surely a worthwhile thing to do—but he agreed to say nothing for now.
Then it happened a little while later that Ormana chanced upon them as their lips were parting. At once, she scurried away unseen and came to Thalo’s side in the evening.
‘Tell me, Thalo,’ she said, ‘is something going on?’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Thalo.
‘I was round the back of the hall this morning, and I happened to oversee you by the wall, and I daresay I need not remind you just how close Awldano was. Were you smelling his breath, or is something going on?’
Thalo said that something was indeed going on, but that Awldano was very concerned about what his father might have to say about it.
‘He means to broach the matter with tact,’ he said, ‘and neither you nor I have much of that. You must not let your tongue wag.’
‘Nor, then,’ said Ormana, ‘should you men, lest it be seen before it is said. But I will say nothing of it. I am dutybound, after all, to uphold the harmony of the house, and that has proven trying enough of late.’
This, it should be said, was still only a few months after Yorlayvo was slain. Since then, Esleyna had said next to nothing about it. Instead, she spent her days sitting alone in silence and staring out from a window overlooking the sea. Whenever Ormana offered her company, or some food, or any sort of comfort, Esleyna declined it.
‘What joy is left for me, deprived of my life, my love, my Yorlayvo?’ she would say, and though Ormana would say there were yet very many joys for her, she would not be heard.
When Kolmago tried to assure his mother, he had no greater success. He would come to her, a short sword in his hand, and show her his new moves, saying, ‘Look, mother! I am set to become a warrior of great repute, or so they say, and the envy of all my peers. My father be proud, would he not?’
‘What pride,’ Esleyna might have said, ‘can dwell within a heart that does not beat, nor bleed? There is no fire left within him but that which reduced him to ash, to burn forevermore in the dark recesses of my mind. I am alone. I am forsaken.’
Then Kolmago would lower his sword and leave, all his youthful vigour diminished.
So had Esleyna’s sorrow become a bitter burden, and one that weighed heavily upon not only herself, but upon her children, too.
‘And that is putting it lightly,’ said Ormana. ‘We all must grieve, but she is being quite selfish about it.’
Thalo did not know what to say, so he nodded quietly and let her move the conversation forward.
Thalo soon told Awldano that Ormana had seen them together, and that he had told her of their companionship.
‘Though she can be discourteous,’ said Thalo, ‘I trust her very much. She will not say the first word.’
‘All the same,’ said Awldano, ‘hers are not the only eyes in Pearmol. If we are to sprint ahead of fleet-footed fate, we must make haste.’
Then they resolved to see the deed done.
It fell to Awldano, of course. Thalo did not come with him, for Awldano feared he would only antagonise Karvalo, and thereby ensure the worst result. Awldano came to his father in the small fire room late that night, when it was well past time for bed, and sat so the fire lay between them.
Awldano said, ‘You want me to marry well, yes?’
‘I do,’ said Karvalo. ‘Why do you say this? Is something going on?’
‘Tell me, what do you make of Thalo?’
‘Thalo Thennelo?’
‘He is the only Thalo we have.’
Karvalo scratched his head and said, ‘If you are to finally fasten a marriage, you could have done some scouting at Syorbak. There were plenty of fine young folk with grand lineages and even grander treasures to be found there. Or you could at least find a handsome girl and make yourself some heirs. But, seeking the sun, you have peered down a well. You are better than that.’
‘Has he not proven himself a worthy fellow?’
‘Let me be clear. I trust him well enough with a sword, for now. But with my son’s heart? Never.’
‘Then tell me this: do you not trust my judgement?’
‘That would depend upon which head you heed. I know how you young men are.’ Karvalo paused, glowering, and then he went on, ‘But yes. You are my son, Awldano, and the lesser of the two. Your lot in life is all the meagrer than your brother’s, and your shames more readily forgotten. I will trust in your judgement. Do not make me regret it.’
It was around then that Thalo and Awldano began sharing a bed. Where Thalo had previously slept in one of the large houses, Awldano, being a man of high status, had a private bedroom in the hall which he shared with only three other men. They were called Knodho, Beo, and Lodnaro.
Awldano went to Karvalo and Seyglena while they were eating breakfast together, and he asked that things be rearranged so he and Thalo could sleep alone together. Karvalo did not want to agree to that, but Awldano was very much his father’s son, and he refused to leave the room until he had his way. Seyglena also said Karvalo should appease him.
‘It would be good,’ she said, ‘for him to make such mistakes while he is still young enough that they will not be consequential.’
Awldano did not much like her reasoning, but he nonetheless appreciated her support. Karvalo relented, and he said he would sort things out.
In the end, Thalo came into Awldano’s bedroom, while his former fellows were moved out of the hall and into one of the large houses where there was enough room for them to stay together. However, when Awldano came to tell them of the changes, Beo and Lodnaro were quite upset.
‘Now, now,’ said Knodho, ‘it would not be fair for us to come between our friend and his joy, not least since there is so little for us in either case.’
‘That may be so,’ said Beo, ‘but you need not say as much. This is the only dignity for we sorry three. What respect is there for us but to sleep in Karvalo’s hall?’
‘Do not be disheartened.’ Knodho put his hand forward, inviting Beo and Lodnaro to each take it. ‘We may get no respect from anyone else, but we get it at least from each other. Let nothing shake that.’
‘I am so wracked with self-pity,’ said Lodnaro, ‘that I will do anything for a fellow who so much as smiles at me.’ He took Knodho’s hand in his own. ‘I, pathetic as I am, do not deserve such worthy comrades, but I will stand beside you all the same. Let nothing shake that.’
Beo huffed and put his hand atop those of his friends. ‘I suppose there is nothing for it but to relieve myself of all my pride and cry into my beer. We are cheerless men indeed, but we are cheerless together. Let nothing shake that.’
Then they all embraced one another, their tears flowing readily. Awldano had been present all the while, trying to tell them how much he valued their company, but they would not listen to him. Together, they went out of the room, and nothing more is remembered of them.
As they left, Awldano was stricken by a pang of guilt, but it was not so much to bear that he thought twice about it—at least not until Essero came to visit. He was unimpressed with the new arrangements, and he made it known.
‘It is appalling,’ he said, ‘that our most dignified father, and his second most dignified son, should be busying themselves like this to satisfy the whims of some upstart rabble-man. It is not at all fitting for so many of our good friends to all be ejected from the majesty of this fine hall for his sake alone. No, it is outrageous and unfair. I beg you, Awldano, listen! Your companions have done far more for you—and are far more deserving—than this bitty-booted bandit of a man.’
Then Awldano asked Essero to leave, but he refused.
‘I will leave when I am ready,’ he said. ‘As it stands, I have more to say.’
Indeed, Essero voiced his complaints on many occasions thereafter, as did some others whom he had convinced to back him up, but their protestations all came to nothing. Thalo and Awldano remained eager bedfellows.