Laughter echoed around the rafters and Eskodas shook his head in amazement. He had watched Sieben back in Capalis listening to warriors swapping jests and jokes. Not once had the poet laughed, or appeared to find the stories amusing. Yet here he was, performing the same tales with apparent relish.
Transferring his gaze to Cajivak, the archer saw that the leader was no longer smiling, but was sitting back in his chair, his fingers drumming on the arm-rest. Eskodas had known many evil men, and knew well that some could look as fine as angels – handsome, clear-eyed, golden-haired. But Cajivak looked what he was, dark and malevolent. He was wearing Druss’s jerkin of black leather, with the silver shoulder guards, and Eskodas saw him reach down and stroke the black haft of an axe that was resting against the chair. It was Snaga.
Suddenly the colossal warrior rose from his chair. ‘Enough!’ he bellowed and Sieben stood silently before him. ‘I don’t like your performance, bard, so I’m going to have you impaled on an iron spike.’ The Hall was utterly silent now. Eskodas drew a shaft from his quiver and notched it to his bow. ‘Well? Any more jests before you die?’ Cajivak asked.
‘Just the one,’ answered Sieben, holding to the madman’s gaze. ‘Last night I had dream, a terrible dream. I dreamt I was beyond the gates of Hell; it was a place of fire and torture, exquisitely ghastly. I was very frightened and I said to one of the demon guards, “Is there any way out of here?” And he said there was only one, and no one had ever achieved the task set. He led me to a dungeon, and through a narrow grille I saw the most loathsome woman. She was leprous, with weeping sores, toothless and old beyond time. Maggots crawled in what was left of her hair. The guard said, “If you can make love to her all night, you will be allowed to leave.” And, you know, I was prepared to have a try. But as I stepped forward I saw a second door, and I glanced through. And you know what I saw, Lord? I saw you. You were making love to one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. So I said to the guard, “Why is it that I have to bed a crone, when Cajivak gets a beauty?” “Well,” he said, ” ’tis only fair that the women also have a chance to get out.” ‘
Even from the gallery Eskodas could see Cajivak’s face lose its colour. When he spoke, his voice was harsh and trembling. ‘I will make your death last an eternity,’ he promised.
Eskodas drew back on his bowstring . . . and paused. A man had appeared at the back of the dais, his hair and beard matted and filthy, his face blackened with ingrained dirt. He ran forward, throwing his shoulder into the high back ofCajivak’s chair, which hurtled forward to catapult the warlord from the dais. He fell head-first on to the table upon which Sieben stood.
The filth-covered warrior swept up the shining axe, and his voice boomed out through the Hall: ‘Now do you want me to beg, you miserable whoreson?’
Eskodas chuckled. There were moments in life worth cherishing, he realised.
*
As he swept up the axe, feeling the cool, black haft in his hand, power surged through him. It felt like fire roaring through his veins to every muscle and sinew. In that moment Druss felt renewed, reborn. Nothing in his life had ever been so exquisite. He felt light-headed and full of life, like a paralysed man who regains the use of his limbs.
His laughter boomed out over the Hall, and he gazed down on Cajivak who was scrambling to his feet amongst the dishes and goblets. The warlord’s face was bloody, his mouth contorted.
‘It is mine!’ shouted Cajivak. ‘Give it back!’
The men around him looked surprised at his reaction. Where they had expected fury and violence, they saw instead their dread Lord reaching out, almost begging.
‘Come and get it,’ invited Druss.
Cajivak hesitated and licked his thin lips. ‘Kill him!’ he screamed suddenly. The warriors surged to their feet, the nearest man drawing his sword and running towards the dais. An arrow slashed into his throat, pitching him from his feet. All movement ceased then as scores of armed men scanned the Hall, seeking the hidden bowman.