The next morning Menish held court in the main hall. While last night’s gathering had been an informal affair, mainly dedicated to eating and drinking and exchanging news, today’s was more carefully organised.
The benches and tables were pushed back to the walls and those who attended sat on the floor as they traditionally did in the Anthorian tents. There was no throne in Menish’s hall but there was a central pillar that he sat beside. Althak explained to Azkun that this represented the main post of a tent, the traditional place for an Anthorian chief.
Menish declared the court in session and asked for the first complaint. A man about Menish’s age rose to his feet to speak. Azkun heard a woman near him mutter “Oh it’s Marayhir again” with disgust in her voice.
“Three times this year my herds have been raided, twice by the King’s own household. I would like to ask when it became lawful for the King to raid his people’s herds.”
“Marayhir, I've not raided your herds. Anyone of my household will tell you that I've been journeying for weeks, not raiding. Who of my household has raided you?”
“Grath. I've witnesses who saw him.”
Menish shrugged.
“Grath is a member of my household, as you are at the moment. But your herds are not my herds. Neither are Grath’s. Don't say that I raided your herds.
“Were the raids unlawful in any other way?”
“Ah, yes, yes they were. He took all my best cows, most of them in calf. More than half of my breeding stock. They will have calved by now.”
“I protest!” Grath stood up. “On no occasion did I take more than half of what was there-”
“I had three hundred cows, now I have less than one hundred. You northerners can't even count your fingers-”
“Grath, how do you answer?”
“What he says about his cows is true, but there were two raids. I took as much as the law allows both times. No more than half the breeding stock there.”
Laughter rippled through the room and someone cheered. Marayhir was not popular, even Menish grinned.
“Is this true, Marayhir? How much time was there between the raids?”
Marayhir looked surly. “There were two raids in a sense. They were only a day apart. The raiding party lay in wait overnight and attacked again at dawn. It might as well have been a single raid.”
“And were the cows in calf, Grath?”
“Some of them, not many. Marayhir does not manage his herd well. Many were thin and ill. Hardly worth raiding-”
“Damn you, northern dung! Say that again and I'll see your guts writhing on the ground when I open you with my sword!” He drew his sword and brandished it above his head.
“Silence,” shouted Menish. “Put away your weapon, Marayhir. If you attempt to draw it again within my court I'll confiscate your herds and send you on your way with no more than a crust of bread.”
“I was sorely provoked-”
“If there was no substance in Grath’s claim you would have ignored it. Now here is the judgement of the King in this matter.
“First, I take exception to Marayhir’s accusation that I was involved in these raids. We have an ancient law: the King may not raid and no one may raid the King. Though most of you ate enough of my meat last night.” This brought a murmur of laughter. “That is the law, it hasn't changed.
“Second, Grath’s raids were lawful. He took no more than half the breeding stock.” A muttering came from Marayhir. “It seems that precious few of your folk were guarding them if Grath could raid you two days running.
“But Grath said they were hardly worth raiding and it is a hard thing to lose so many in such a short time. I rule that Grath returns one hundred of the cows. I'll send Drinagish with you to help you count them.”
“And the calves!” shouted Marayhir. “You've forgotten the calves.”
“I've not forgotten the calves. You'll treat my house with more respect in future, Marayhir, if Grath is allowed to keep the calves. You'll also keep better watch on your herds in future for the loss.”
There were two other disputes for Menish to settle: one of them related to a caravan raid and the other to a feud that was becoming tiresome to others. The former was a case where the clan chief had ruled against the caravanners and they had appealed to Menish who reversed the decision. The second dispute was more complex.
The feud concerned two families of the Romarbol clan who had an argument over a grazing area in one of the eastern valleys called the Githal. The feud, as such, was not Menish’s concern but a member of each family, Traan and Gilth, had been involved in a raid against their common enemy, the Rithyar clan, and the unheard-of had happened. The two men had started quarrelling in the heat of the raid, drawing swords without the formality of challenging a duel. In the confusion the raiders were driven off and the Rithyar clan were delighted with the situation. The other raiders were furious. Their clan chief did not want to judge the matter so it was passed to Menish.
It took some time to hear the views of all those involved and Menish was weary of the case by the time they were finished. There was no simple answer. Traan and Gilth would not agree. The other raiders wanted compensation for the failure of the raid. There was only one decision that would come near to satisfying all parties.
“Here is the judgement of the King. It's not right to expect compensation for cattle not raided. Raiding always has its risks and those risks must be accepted. You should choose your companions more carefully in future. But Traan and Gilth did badly to fight each other when they had agreed to join the same raiding party. We've no law against it but it was not a noble action. I rule that they can settle their differences before us all in a trial of strength this afternoon. In doing so they can repay those of their raiding party they let down by providing a good fight. They'll be forbidden to duel for the next three months on any matter. And they both lose the use of the grazing land they fought over for that period.”
A cheer from those present greeted this judgement. A wrestling match was always popular, not least because Anthorians were keen gamblers. Menish could see them measuring the two contestants with looks, trying to pick a winner. He even heard Marayhir betting some of the cows he expected to receive that afternoon on Traan.
There were no more disputes to judge so Menish called for the midday meal to be served. Bowls of mein were distributed from the bubbling pots on the hearth. Menish saw Hrangil spooning his up hungrily and telling Yarol about the foul food they had had to eat on their journey. Menish rather liked the food he had eaten in Relanor, especially when they had dined with Vorish and Sonalish. It was richer and more elaborate than was normally served in Anthor. Sometimes he regretted that they were such a stark folk.
Althak’s gaudy presence, although it was often resented, was good for them. Menish watched him talking to a group of women and wondered how comfortable Althak was in this land. His interest in Keashil puzzled him, somewhat. She was no Vorthenki wench to be passed around among his friends. But he supposed she was the closest thing he could get to that while he lived in Anthor.
There was less suspicion of Althak now than there had been once. Menish himself always emphasised Althak’s bravery and praised his counsel when he gave it. There was a time when none of the women would acknowledge his presence except Adhara, and she did not like him. That had changed. Some of them would speak to him now, though there were still many who joked about the Vorthenki behind his back. Menish wanted them to like Althak. Althak and Vorish were both like sons to him in a way, children Adhara had never been able to give him. The words of the Keeper returned to him with that thought and he shut them out.
After the meal the whole court made a parade out to the wrestling ground. These things had to be done properly. Yarol had hurriedly made the dusty area of tramped earth outside the gates of the palace ready. The yak horn trumpets were blown before them as Menish and the rest of the court followed the two contestants. The wrestling ground had been roped off and two yak tail standards stood at each end. A big drum with cow skin stretched across it had been rolled into place just outside the ropes.
There was another blast on the horns as Menish took his place by the drum and the two wrestlers stood under their standards. They were pleased with Menish’s decision. Traan had already said that they were sick and tired of harassment from their own clan and ridicule from others. Besides, they were itching to get their hands on each other again. Menish took up the carefully polished leg bone of a horse that lay beside the drum and struck it. The resounding boom silenced the horns and the excited chatter of the spectators.
“Let the contestants make ready!” shouted Menish. There were attendants nearby, a pair of stable hands and several folk Yarol had commandeered from the kitchen, with pots of grease. The two contestants stripped down to their breeches and allowed themselves to be coated with the grease. They made a show of flexing their muscles and glaring at each other during this operation, Menish could see the spectators eyeing their form and haggling with each other over bets. The Anthorians loved a fight.
Menish waited until both Traan and Gilth signalled that they were ready and he beat the drum once more. By convention all betting arrangements had to be concluded by the second drum beat, though the rite of duelling was more ancient than their love of gambling. Adhara had once told him the yak tails were sacred to Kiveli, the Anthorian earth goddess, no one really used such things nowadays except like this in a formal fight.
The crowd became silent and Menish spoke again.
“Offspring of the heroes of Ristalshuz,” he addressed them formally. “You are here to witness the duel of Traan and Gilth. This duel will settle the matter that lies between these two. They are forbidden to duel with each other, by wrestling or by arms, for the next three months and they both lose the right to graze the Githal.” There was a murmur of approval from those who had been involved in the abortive raid.
“I call on Krith the Eternal to be the judge here. Let the duel commence!”
Once again Menish hammered the drum.
There was absolute silence from the crowd. The sound of a light wind flapping the yak tails and the shuffling of the contestants’ feet as they circled one another was all that could be heard. Their bodies gleamed with grease in the sunlight.
Both were stocky men, Traan a little heavier than Gilth, but there was not much difference. This would be a fight of skill rather than strength.
With a lightning movement Traan lunged, Gilth dodged to one side but Traan had expected it. His boot caught Gilth in the stomach as he fell past him into the dust. With a deft flip Traan was back on his feet before it could be counted as a fall. Gilth doubled over but did not fall. He dropped to a fighting crouch, chest heaving, and faced Traan. It was an old trick. Gilth should have seen it coming. Menish could see by the humiliated look on the man’s face that he was thinking the same thing.
Suddenly Gilth was on the offensive. He scooped up a handful of dust and flung it at Traan’s face. A second later they were locked together, arms fighting for a hold on each other’s greased bodies. Gilth managed to grasp Traan’s pony tail and jerked it down. Traan’s chin went up and Gilth’s forehead butted his throat with a vicious thud. Traan toppled backwards and crashed onto the ground. The yak horns blew.
Gilth stood back while Traan stood up again. There were few rules in a wrestling duel. No weapons were allowed and the first one to fall three times lost. For a fall to count the victim had to be allowed to regain his feet.
Traan was annoyed at Gilth’s ploy, there was a smouldering fury in his eyes. That was a bad sign for him, thought Menish. To win a duel like this one required not anger but a cool head. Traan charged Gilth like a bull and Gilth nimbly leapt aside. But not quickly enough. Traan was not as enraged as he appeared to be. His fist slammed into Gilth’s shoulder. Gilth tumbled into the ropes and dropped to the ground. He was up in an instant but not before the yak horns had blown.
Once again the two men were locked together. Traan grasped at Gilth’s leg, trying to lift it and throw him. Gilth’s arm slipped from his grasp at the wrong moment and Gilth hammered his fist into Traan’s chest, sending him sprawling backwards into the dust. The yak horns sounded.
Breathing heavily the two men faced each other again. Menish was enjoying this fight. There was none of the taunting and jeering between the two opponents that only distracted everyone from the matter in hand.
Traan had to be very careful now. One more fall and he would lose the fight. Menish saw the tenseness in his stance. Dust clung to the grease on his body. He stood, waiting for Gilth’s next move.
When it came it was faster than anyone expected. Gilth lashed out with a kick, an awkward move. Traan made to grab at his foot and missed. Gilth followed through with a double fist that crashed into Traan’s side, knocking him down for the third time. Once more the yak horns blew.
There was a cheer from those who had placed bets on Gilth. Traan picked himself up and dusted himself off with a scowl. It was always hard to lose.
That ended the formal part of the day. The gamblers would spend a good deal of the afternoon settling their debts and discussing the fight. As he watched Menish return through the gateway Azkun felt Yarol tap him on the shoulder.
“Master Azkun, the King wishes to speak with you in his rooms. Come with me.” Azkun followed him into the palace with Tenari still clinging to his arm. Her touch now made him shiver but she was too persistent to push away.
The fight had been interesting. Althak had told him there was little chance of either man hurting more than his dignity. Azkun had seen it simply as a display of skill. Yarol gathered Althak and Drinagish from the crowd before he led them up two flights of stairs and into a chamber where Menish and Adhara waited. Grath and Hrangil were not far behind them.
The chamber was like the main hall but smaller. Tapestries showing horsemen hunting covered most of the stone walls and weapons hung on the rest. There were other things too, Relanese vases with bright designs on them and embroidered cushions. The floor was small enough to cover with rugs and furs rather than straw as in the main hall. A narrow hearth lay fireless along one wall, and in the centre of the room lay a low table. On the table lay a bottle of ambroth and some drinking horns, but it was too soon after the midday meal for anyone to need refreshment. There were two other doors leading out of the room.
Menish motioned them to sit on the cushions that surrounded the table. “Did you enjoy the fight?”
“Not bad, I'd placed my bets on Traan, though,” said Drinagish.
“Mine were on Gilth,” Grath said smugly. “Fifteen cows.”
“I thought Gilth would probably win,” said Menish, “but, of course, I can't wager on a case I've judged.
“I called you together before you, Drinagish and Grath, go to count these cows of Marayhir’s to discuss the expedition to Gashan. I hope there's no ill will about those cows, Grath?”
Grath shrugged. “He can have them. They really were not worth it. I wouldn't have made the second raid if I'd taken a good look at the first lot.”
“Good. I took you at your word. I don't like Marayhir, but I'd rather he had his cows back and left me alone. I didn't make it clear last night but Vorish has requested the expedition north to satisfy himself that the Gashan rumours are true. If they are he will send us aid to fight them, several of you already know this. Vorish also hopes the expedition will find out what happened to the Duzral Eye and, perhaps, fetch it back.
“Hrangil, Azkun and Althak have volunteered to go. There are two others who should be part of the expedition. Grath, will you go? Before you answer let me say that this journey will be hazardous. You go of your own choice or not at all. I make no demand on you.”
Grath only grinned. “I'll go. I was hoping you'd ask me. Besides, I'll not be outdone by a Vorthenki.” He gave Althak a friendly punch on the shoulder.
“You've my thanks. We'll talk of rewards for you all when you return. There's one other who should go.” Here it comes, thought Menish.
“Who?” asked Adhara, a note of suspicion in her voice.
“Tenari, of course,” said Drinagish. “Azkun won't leave her behind.”
“I'd forgotten Tenari,” said Menish. “I was thinking of another. I, myself, will go with you to Gashan.” He had said it, now he waited for the objections.
“You will not!” shouted Adhara, rising to her feet. She glowered at Menish. “How can you possibly go to Gashan? That leg of yours has been giving you hell, you said so last night. You're not in a fit state to travel north with winter coming on. Besides, what need is there? You have Hrangil to recognise the Eye.”
Menish watched her carefully. There was force in her words but in her eyes there was pleading.
“I'm going. I want to see Gashan. That's reason enough. But it seems prudent that two of us who can recognise the Eye should go.”
“Vorish forbade it,” said Althak.
“Vorish isn't here!” said Menish, suddenly angry because he had hoped they had forgotten. “Vorish is happy to send you off on a dangerous journey while he waits in safety. I'm not!”
“So that's the real reason,” said Adhara. “Then I, too, will go with you.”
“No, you will not.”
“And how will you stop me? We both go or neither.”
“When will you learn to take orders from your King?”
“When will you learn to take orders from your Emperor?”
“By Aton, I said you are to stay and I've a good reason. Drinagish is not ready to be regent while I am away. Oh, you're learning quickly, Drinagish, and I'm pleased with you. But you would not yet be able to handle Marayhir alone. You need Adhara’s authority behind you, guiding you.”
“So you'd leave me behind because of Anthor?”
“Why else?” He dared her to suggest it was because he was afraid for her safety to this company. But she made no answer. Menish knew he had not heard the last of this.
“What about Vorish?” asked Yarol. “If he's forbidden you to go-”
“As I said, Vorish is not here. His wishes in this matter are being carried out as well as we can. We're making the journey for him, he can't have everything his own way. Now, can we leave tomorrow?”
“I do not wish Tenari to come with us,” said Azkun.
“You don't? Why not?”
Tenari sat beside him but, unlike her reaction to being left behind at Atonir, she gave no indication that she had heard.
“I am afraid of her. I believe she is under the power of the Monnar. I do not wish her to come with us.”
“If that's what you want,” said Menish, “then she can stay here. But remember it was you who demanded that she be taken from Lianar.” That action had also cost Menish much. He was disturbed that Azkun had now simply changed his mind. Still, Tenari would possibly be a liability in Gashan.
“That is what I want.”
“Then we can make arrangements to leave at first light tomorrow. Yarol, you know what supplies we'll need. Drinagish and Grath, you've yet to count those cows. I think Marayhir has already lost them in a bet on the fight today.”