‘You do not believe that, Blademaster. I see it in your eyes,’ said the Earl, standing. ‘No, the Nadir hate us for the past, and they are tormented by the memory of Bel-azar – the only defeat to stain the reputation of Tenaka Khan.’
Chareos rose and assisted the Earl into his caped coat.
He looked into the younger man’s face. ‘Bel-azar was a miracle. I do not know how we did it – nor why Tenaka Khan allowed us to hold. But it was twenty years ago; I very rarely think of it now.’
‘The old fortress is in ruins,’ said the Earl. ‘It’s as good as Nadir territory now. Thank you for the lesson. I think I am getting closer to you.’
‘Better than that, my lord. You beat me today.’
‘Are you sure you did not let me win – just because my sons were watching?’
‘You won fairly, my lord. But next week I will be better.’
‘Next week, you come to the castle. Afterwards we will ride out into the Hunting Woods and see if we can flush out a boar or two.’
Chareos bowed as the Earl strode from the hall. There was still some juice in the pitcher, and he refilled his goblet and wandered to the window, watching as the Earl’s retinue rode from the monastery.
It had been a long time since those names had been voiced: Beltzer, Maggrig and Finn. He could still see the red-bearded giant hammering his battle-axe into the Nadir as they swarmed over the gate-tower wall. And each evening the bowmen, Maggrig and Finn, would compare scores and write them in charcoal on the granite wall. Maggrig killed eleven today, making his tally 31. Death to the Nadir! Old Kalin would dispute their figures as he cooked the evening meal over the brazier. Such a way with food, that man, Chareos remembered – he could make sirloin steak taste like sheep’s bowels. He had died on the last day.
The gate-tower section took the most casualties throughout. Of the original complement of forty-five only Beltzer, Maggrig, Finn and Chareos had survived. The Nadir had taken the fortress, but Beltzer had leapt from the gate-tower and singlehandedly retaken the Gothir standard, hacking and cutting his way back to the tower door. Once inside, the soldiers had barricaded themselves in and defied the encircling Nadir warriors. For most of the day the enemy had scaled the wall, only to be repulsed by the swords and axes of the defenders.
That night Tenaka Khan himself had walked, with his shaman, below the gate-tower.
‘Surrender to me, and you may leave here alive,’ he had called.
‘That would be contrary to our orders,’ Chareos had answered him.
‘What is the most important to you, duty or freedom?’ the Khan had asked.
‘An interesting question, sir,’ Chareos replied. ‘Why not come up here and debate the point?’
‘Throw down a rope,’ the Khan had answered.
Chareos smiled at the memory now as he heard footsteps in the hall behind him and turned to see the Senior Brother approaching.
‘Am I disturbing you?’ asked the old man.
‘Not at all, Parnio. Please join me.’
The white-robed Senior sat by the table and gazed up at the sky. ‘The Heavens are incredible,’ he whispered. ‘Ever changing, yet constant in their beauty.’
‘Indeed they are,’ agreed Chareos, sitting opposite the old man.
‘Have you touched the power of the Source yet, my son?’
‘No, Father. I am still a doubter. Is this a concern to you?’
The Senior waved a slender hand. ‘Not at all. Those who seek Him find Him . . . but in His own time. But you have been here two years now, and I wonder what holds you. You do not need to wear the robes in order to use the library.’
Chareos smiled. ‘There is comfort in belonging, Father. There is a certain anonymity.’
‘If it was anonymity you were seeking, you would not have kept your own name, and certainly you would not have acceded to the Earl’s request to teach him the finer techniques of swordsmanship.’
‘True. Perhaps the answer is, simply, that I do not know. Yet I have no desire to leave.”