XXI
Things will now be said about the kin of Gaylodho the Earl. On the day of his death, his widow, Meola, went tearfully before his elder son, Gaymono, and chastised him for letting the murderer flee without a fight.
‘What sort of thickhead must he be,’ she said, ‘who lets his father’s killer walk freely from the scene of the crime.’
‘Would you prefer that we both had died?’ asked Gaymono.
‘I would prefer that you had done your filial duty and avenged your father’s death. Otherwise, a failed attempt would be better than no attempt at all.’
Then she went away to grieve some more.
Gaylodho was buried in the middle of Klagenn. They put an enormous stone above his grave, big enough that, on a clear day, a keen-eyed chap could make it out from the top of the valley. As Klagenn’s residents gathered to mourn their fallen friend, Meola had more cutting words for her stepson.
‘It really is pathetic,’ she said. ‘My husband is slain. Your father is buried. They call you good, but see what little good you have done.’
Then she muttered some more foul words before departing.
Indeed, Meola was so aggrieved by Gaymono’s inaction that she chose not to involve him in bringing the matter to Beyla the Earl, or the following trip to Pearmol. He was not made aware of these events until she returned to Klagenn with Godleda at her side. She told her relatives what had happened in Karvalo’s hall, whereafter Gaymono came along to ask where she had been.
‘What do you care?’ said Meola. ‘I was not aware you had any longing for justice.’
‘I should not have let the killer flee,’ said Gaymono, ‘but understand that I made my decision in a moment of anguish, my father dead before me, slain so swiftly by a sword I found not the mettle to meet. But much time has passed since then, and I see now that there would be no better use for my time and talents than to avenge my father.’
Meola turned away from him. ‘Words are easily spoken.’
Then she walked away.
Gaymono was at that time married to a woman called Broyndea, with whom he had two little daughters called Brala and Klata. Broyndea was born with the will of the warrior, and all the notions of honour and pride it entailed. She heard what Meola had to say, and she had some thoughts of her own.
‘Pay no heed to the bitterest among us,’ she said. ‘If you intend to avenge your father, as should a man of your fine stock, you can only stand up and do it. Do not waste your time seeking the approval of another, and least of all one who will not give it.’
‘The right to retribution is as much hers as mine. I would not exclude her from the matter.’
‘And yet she would exclude you. What is given is received, and that is true of good and bad things both. Come, Gaymono, let us go together and right some wrongs.’
Then Gaymono, moved by his beloved wife’s words, agreed to make his own arrangements. He and Broyndea asked Godleda if she would go back to Pearmol with them to try again, and to this time do things properly. Godleda was unwilling.
‘Pestering will get you nothing,’ she said.
‘We will do no pestering,’ said Broyndea, ‘but will instead appeal to their honour.’
‘Appeals to honour move only the honourable.’
‘We could offer them wealth?’ said Gaymono.
‘What wealth would entice one with too much of it?’
Gaymono and Broyndea offered a handful of other approaches, but Godleda disregarded each one without a moment’s thought. She very much did not want to go back to Pearmol.
Thus did Broyndea say, ‘You, Godleda, are honourable, and you are by no means over-wealthy. Perhaps we can buy your time and support?’
Godleda sighed. ‘So be it, but they will give you no more attention than the least they can give.’
‘And that will be enough!’
Then Godleda and Broyndea confirmed their agreement, and Gaymono was pleased things were happening. They set out for Pearmol a short while later, leaving their daughters in the care of old Regnaga. However, when they came to the gate, Amfredha recognised Godleda from her previous visit.
‘Move along,’ she said. ‘You will get nothing from us but jeers and spears.’
‘Hold it!’ said Broyndea. ‘We have come concerning matters far above you. Let us in, that we may speak with your betters.’
‘You think you can belittle me? Think again!’ Amfredha threw back her shoulders and raised her spear high above her head. ‘Behold! I am Amfredha Sunder-spear, Lord of the Gate, and foreworthiest warden of Pearmol. All who face me quake, so indomitable is my will! So impregnable my shield! I am the fiercest. I am the fastest. I am the firmest. I am the best!’
Broyndea could not let such a boast go unanswered. ‘You think so? I bid you hear me and fear me, for I have beaten better.’
‘Do not delude yourself. You cannot see the full measure of me down there.’
‘Come down, then, and let us settle this properly!’
As Broyndea and Amfredha postured at one another, Gaymono feared the conversation was moving rather off-topic, and it remained clear that Godleda, yet completely silent, wanted nothing more than to be anywhere else. He would have to take control of things.
‘Say, mighty Amfredha,’ he said. ‘How about a deal? You two meet one another and settle things accordingly, and if you win, we will call it quits and be on our way. But if my fairest Broyndea wins, you will let us meet your lord, as you should anyway. What do you say to that?’
Amfredha spoke with her companions briefly before turning back to the threesome below.
‘What do I say? I have already said what I say, and I said move along! I need not prove myself, and least of all to your sorts.’ She pointed her spear at Broyndea. ‘Now begone! It would be a shame to bloody so pretty a face.’
Godleda left first, not needing to be asked again. Gaymono was the next to turn, for he knew that once one comrade had broken rank, there was no hope of success for the rest, and it would be best to cut their losses there. Broyndea followed thereafter, glowering at Amfredha atop the gate.
Gaymono was in no rush to return to Klagenn and admit his failure, but it needed to happen. He and Broyndea parted ways with Godleda and went home, their heads hung in shame. Meola spared no time in scorning the fruitlessness of their efforts.
‘Never has a son so disgraced his father,’ she said, spitting at Gaymono’s feet. ‘I am disgusted to be near you, to look upon your awful face and know what a travesty of a man lies behind it. Get out of my sight, wretch, lest I loose my lunch upon the floor.’
Then she walked away, and Gaymono sat down to cry.
Some time now passed, and through it all, Meola’s spiteful words became no less forgiving. Gaymono ever turned to Broyndea for comfort, to hold her hand as he wept upon her shoulder. She let it happen for many months, but after a while, she found it too pitiful to bear.
‘How undignified it is,’ she said, ‘for a man of your calibre to spend each day mewling like some womb-warm newborn groping for its mother’s teat. But you are not yet too far gone, I think, and we could remedy the shame of it with some much-deserved avenging.’
Just so, Gaymono found himself rather stuck, two separate voices ever in his head. One was cold and scathing, the other loving yet provocative, but both demanded action, and both demanded vengeance. In time, he became restless, unable to tolerate his idleness. It was his duty, the son of the slain, to avenge his father, and he could not let that task fall upon anyone else. That was his obligation. That was his privilege!
Renewed with a fervent passion for retribution, Gaymono took up the cause once more and invited his cherished Broyndea to Bealnew to meet the earl and see what else might be done. Broyndea accepted this invitation with glee.
‘Yes, my darling,’ she said, ‘arise! This is our life and lot! It is our fate to do this valorous deed! To do or die doing! Arise, my love! Arise!’
To do things properly, Gaymono stole into his father’s bedroom—that is, Meola’s—and took from its box handsome Ograme, that most brilliant blade, and its shining sheath. Meola had refused to relinquish it, but the sword was rightfully his—his inheritance and his vengeance. With Ograme at one side and Broyndea at the other, Gaymono left for Bealnew.
When they arrived, a fellow called Enlovo happened to be there to meet with Beyla. He was the Reeve of Eylavol, the king’s foremost representative in the earldom, and his word was as good as the king’s own, not that many in those parts cared anything for it. Gaymono asked Godleda to involve Enlovo in the matter, and she did so. Thus did he sit down with Beyla the Earl and Enlovo the Reeve to determine how they might catch and kill a murderer.
Beyla initially suggested they go to Pearmol and ask Karvalo to hand him over in exchange for some compensation, but Godleda said they had tried that twice now, to no avail.
‘Did you ask nicely,’ said Beyla, ‘or did you go in whinging and whining?’
‘It would be hopeless either way.’
Gaymono asked Enlovo whether he could take the matter to the king.
‘I could,’ said Enlovo, ‘but it would yield nothing but wasted words. The king has no jurisdiction in the Lord of Pearmol’s domain.’
‘Then is there nothing we can do?’
‘Not as long as he is a man of Pearmol. You might wait for him to come back to Eylavol and grab him when he does, if he does, or else convince the Lord of Pearmol to turn him over, but I suspect neither course of events is likely to unfold any time soon.’
Gaymono now started despairing. When he set out on his second quest for vengeance, he was so impassioned by zeal, so caught up in his fresh fervour, that he thought it would be no more difficult than batting away the compliments with which Meola would surely shower him upon his successful return.
‘Alas,’ he said. ‘It is hopeless! I will never have my satisfaction, and it will be my own doing.’
‘Do not lose heart, my sweet,’ said Broyndea. She stood up and pointed at Enlovo. ‘Reeve! You say we might convince the Lord of Pearmol to turn the criminal over, but he has thus far been unwilling. What might we offer him that he could not refuse?’
Enlovo shook his head. ‘I have no idea.’
Broyndea sat back down without a word.
Then they dwelt in the silence for a moment, each pondering how they could progress the matter, or if they should, until Beyla said, ‘Enlovo, you are useless, and we all know it. You know not what the Lord of Pearmol would accept in exchange for the murderer, but I know who will.’ Beyla turned to Gaymono, and she bowed her head. ‘The Lord of Samnew will do you well. He and the Lord of Pearmol are as kinsmen. I would know, for I was there once. If Samnew asks, Pearmol answers. You should bid the Lord of Samnew do some asking.’
Gaymono and Broyndea deemed this the best plan presented and decided to give it a go. They had nothing to lose but time, after all, for their venture was so virtuous that it could not possibly fail. Likewise, Enlovo was glad they had decided something and allowed him to leave. With that, everyone was satisfied with the outcome of the meeting, and they all went their separate ways.
Gaymono and Broyndea came to Samnew as soon as they could and asked to speak with the lord there. They gave their names and said they had come on behalf of the Earl of Eylavol, and also the associated reeve. The doorman was quick to usher them into the hall, but once they were inside, they did not meet with Arleno, owing to his ill health. Rather, Trewgeo came trotting into the hall to meet his father’s guests.
‘What is afoot?’ he said. ‘Tell me, why do I have a pair of grotty northerners loitering in my hall with very official-sounding business?’
‘We have come seeking your help,’ said Gaymono.
‘And what help might you want from me?’
‘We will take whatever help you would offer, be it small advice or very much more.’
‘Yes, but just what is this about?’
‘You see, my father’—Gaymono’s voice grew grim—‘was murdered.’
‘As are many fathers. What makes your murdered father worthy of my very valuable attention?’
‘I was just about to say.’
‘Then say it quicker, man. Understand, I am a busy sort of fellow with very much to do. I cannot waste my day on you.’
‘Then I will say it plainly. The murderer was a man called Thalo. He has fled into the protection of the Lord of Pearmol, thereby evading the appropriate retributive justice. We have twice bidden the Lord of Pearmol cooperate with us and relinquish the murderer, and he has twice declined. In considering our options, we have resolved to make him an offer he cannot refuse, yet we know not what would constitute such an offer. Thus have we come to you, with the understanding that you are a close friend and ally of the lord in question.’
Trewgeo was well pleased to be hearing this. ‘A friend? An ally? Yes! You could definitely say that. This is about the Thalo man, no? Karvalo’s newest little lapdog? Thennelo, I believe.’
‘We hear he has been called that, yes.’
‘Has he just!’ Trewgeo stopped to consider things for a moment. ‘One thing is for certain: you will not get your man without Karvalo’s consent—what he wants to keep, he holds with fingers unclasping. You will not pry them apart, however much you try.’
‘So it would seem. What would you suggest?’
‘How do you pay a man who has everything?’ Trewgeo sat down to think silently, then stood up once more. ‘No. You two, please stay the night. I will ponder this predicament and return to you presently. How does that sound?’
Gaymono was chuffed to bits. ‘Fantastic! My friend, I really do appreciate your willingness to help.’
‘Oh, you! Think nothing of it, say nothing of it. Any fellow worth anything would lend a hand in this situation.’
Then Trewgeo went away.
Gaymono turned to Broyndea beside him, and he said, ‘This is all going swimmingly, is it not?’
‘No,’ said Broyndea. ‘This Trewgeo man irks me more than a little. He pays you no respect, yet he offers you every hospitality. If I were to cut him open, I would not be surprised to find a rat in place of his heart.’
‘There should be no need for that, my darling. Let us see where this goes before we do any cutting open.’
Gaymono and Broyndea were put up in a room to themselves, for they were honoured guests indeed. They ended up staying at Samnew for a few weeks, enjoying the scenery, the sea and the stars, and generally being very well looked after.
* * *
To return to Yorlayvo now, it was on the last day of the year that he came to Fnarslad to collect Osbago’s dues. Osbago offered the goods with no fuss at all, and his debt was thusly settled. While he was there, Yorlayvo arranged to get together with Osbago again and go out ranging the moors once the spring festival was over, as they often had in their younger days. The date was set one week after the spring games, whereafter Yorlayvo left for home.
But the very same day, Osbago set out for Samnew. He arrived the next evening, and there he met with Trewgeo to make his report. He said he had given Karvalo everything he asked for, and also the silver payment.
‘You sodden, spineless stump!’ said Trewgeo, and he continued on in this manner for a good long while. Once he had calmed himself down, he said he intended to gather Karvalo’s sixfold slackers for a meeting. Its purpose was to assess the success of their conspiracy, and its date was set one week after the spring games.
‘Unfortunately,’ said Osbago, ‘I will be busy then. I am set to spend that day with a friend.’
‘And just whose friendship is so unshakeably important,’ said Trewgeo, ‘that it supersedes mine?’
‘Yorlayvo’s, for one.’
‘What is this about you spending the day with Karvalo’s bigger bollock?’
‘We are going riding, just like old times.’
‘I see.’ Trewgeo paused for a little while, and then he said, ‘We can settle on another date. Send Yorlayvo my warmest regards.’
‘So I will,’ said Osbago, and he left the hall.
Trewgeo made at once for Gaymono and Broyndea. He rushed into their bedroom and roused them from their sleep.
‘Marvellous things are afoot!’ he said. ‘I think I have sorted something out for you, and it really is something. Come to Samo’s shrine at once, and I will tell you all about it.’
Gaymono and Broyndea rose groggy from their bed and did just that. They met Trewgeo in the shrine and sat on the floor before him.
Trewgeo said, ‘You want the Thalo man, yes?’
‘Yes,’ said Gaymono. ‘That exactly.’
‘Yes. But Karvalo will not yield him, and neither you nor I have anything he does not. That said, and love him though I do, he is a terribly self-interested sort of fellow. You have no choice, I fear, but to take what is his and ransom it back. He wants for nothing, so you must make him want. How it would wound his pride, knowing he was bested by the likes of you!’
‘No,’ said Broyndea. ‘No more of this slander!’
‘Do you want my help or not?’
‘Not if it costs me my every scrap of my honour.’
But Gaymono put his hand on Broyndea’s and bade her stand down. ‘We want your help, my friend. What exactly would you suggest?’
‘If I know Karvalo, there is just one thing he values above all else. And I happen to know where it will be, and when, if you see what I mean.’
‘I do not.’
‘There is a farm to the west of here called Fnarslad. You must go there and make yourself at home. I can find a girl to take you if you are not familiar with the way. The householder there is a man called Osbago. He is a good friend of mine, and he will take you in. If he refuses, show him your sword and he will change his mind. Then you need only wait. One week after the spring games, a man will come to visit. Capture him and see just how firm Karvalo’s resolve truly is.’
‘I see,’ said Gaymono. ‘That should do the trick, I think! How can we repay you for all your help?’
‘I ask for nothing more than your success, and your silence. It pains me to see my dear Karvalo disgrace himself by keeping such ignoble company. Free him of the murderer, and that will be repayment enough. But keep my name out of it, and this arrangement will satisfy everyone involved. I would not want to sour our cherished friendship.’
Gaymono shed a single tear. ‘You truly are a generous man!’
‘No, no! We simply do our best.’
So Trewgeo grinned with delight as he sent Gaymono and Broyndea off to Fnarslad the next morning. They arrived the next day, and they told Osbago they had come to make arrangements with him.
‘What sort of arrangements are these?’ said Osbago.
Gaymono told Osbago about his pursuit of vengeance against Thalo, his father’s bane, and the plan to take Yorlayvo hostage and negotiate a trade. And as he had agreed, he said nothing of Trewgeo’s involvement.
‘I understand this Yorlayvo man is a friend of yours,’ said Gaymono. ‘If you would help me fulfil my filial duty and avenge my father’s death, I would be very grateful.’
‘And apprehend my dearest friend?’ said Osbago. ‘No. I want nothing to do with this.’
‘Know that we mean the Yorlayvo man no harm. His role in this is but a means to an end. We will make the Lord of Pearmol see reason, whereafter your friend will be released unscathed.’
‘Even so, I will be unable to sleep at night, knowing I had betrayed him.’
‘If my assurances do not sway you, let me make you an oath. I swear here and now that no harm will befall him. I swear it on my good name, and that of my kin. Let your conscience be clean.’
‘And if I held you to this oath, what would I stand to gain from it?’
Gaymono had not expected this question, and so he looked to Broyndea, desperate for any idea at all. She shrugged.
Osbago said, ‘So I thought. You two had best begone, and quickly.’
Now another man entered the conversation. He was Yaro, Osbago’s eldest son, and he said, ‘Hold on a moment. Father, your friends speak loudly indeed, and I could not help but overhear their words, nor despair at yours.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Osbago.
‘You should do as these people ask.’
‘Why? As far as I can see, I have much to lose and nothing to gain here.’
‘Then I bid you open your eyes. These people offer us a chance to hold Karvalo to account. We are eager to be free of his yoke, but if nothing changes, nothing changes. Our treatment by the lordship will not be improved unless we force it, and if we work with these people, if we capture Karvalo’s right-hand man and have him grovel at our feet, we might prove to him that our demands for dignity cannot be ignored. Show him what we can do, and we will see how stubborn he is at the next assembly.’
‘Do you think that would work? Karvalo’s not the sort to let the waves wash over him.’
‘Nothing is certain, but there is nothing to gain if nothing is at stake.’
These words did little to inspire Osbago’s confidence. ‘I ought not do this. Not to Yorlayvo.’
‘If he truly is your friend, father, he will understand what must be done.’
Osbago took a moment to consider the way forward, and then he turned to Gaymono and said, ‘Very well. I will help you, but you must swear by oath that no harm will befall him.’
‘I have sworn it once,’ said Gaymono, ‘and I will swear it again. I give you my oath: no harm will come to him.’
‘Then we have an agreement.’
Gaymono was glad for it. Having heard Yaro’s counsel, he feared he and Broyndea had walked into the middle of something, but he was unwilling to ask about it, lest he be turned out for prying. They ended up spending about a week at Fnarslad before their quest came to an end.