The lieutenant chuckled. “The Sea Lord wasn’t born yesterday, Your Grace. He obviously knew his host and fellow guests for just what they were. When he was offered the so-called place of honor—sharing Paulos’ dining couch—he very politely requested a chair, instead, saying that he suffered indigestion if he dined other than erect. He ate and drank and chatted in a most friendly fashion with all who addressed him. He lavishly complimented his host’s home, decorations, food, wines, and musicians; but he appeared to be completely unable to comprehend the meanings of a number of quite overt verbal overtures that the Vahrohnos, who seems rather taken by him, put to him. When the feasting was done and Paulos announced that the ‘entertainment’ was about to commence, Lord Alexandros rose, pleaded fatigue, thanked the Vahrohnos for the dinner, and we took our leave.
“I am reliably informed that, immediately subsequent to our departure, Lord Paulos threw a knife at one guest who made some comment or other, bashed in the front teeth of a second, then burst into tears and fled the dining hall.”
Mara felt as if the weight of a war horse had been suddenly lifted from her. She smiled broadly. Then another thought came to her and she frowned.
“Be very careful of the iVahrohnos and his clique, Fil, warn Lord Alexandros to be equally cautious. That kind of man can be petty and spiteful as an unpaid whote, when balked; furthermore, Vahrohnos Paulos is a veteran warrior and a duelist of some note, should he take it into his head that he has been publicly humiliated and decide to force Alexandros into a death match. Well, things could get very sticky with the men of the Sea Islands should any harm come to their Lord.”
Feeleepos smiled lazily. “Your Grace need have no fears in that direction.”
“Oh, I know,” said Mara impatiently. “You and your men will protect him from assassins, but if Paulos opts to call the Sea Lord out, man to man …”
“In the unlikely event, my lady,” he said, interrupting, “my money will go on Lord Alexandros. Have a death match between Paulos and Alexandros, and they’ll be putting a well-hacked buggerer in Paulos’ family tomb the next day! Believe me, my lady, I am a professional. I have seen the Vahrohnos fight and I have seen Lord Alexandros fight and …”
“When,” snapped Mara, her eyes flashing fire, “have you seen Lord Alexandros fight, Lieutenant?”
The officer squirmed under her glare. “My lady, Lord Alexandros spent his first two days touring the city, but on the morning after the Vahrohnos’ party, he said that he felt in need of some exercise. I took him to the main guard barracks, thinking that he might wish to swim ‘or run or jump or throw spears, but he insisted that we stop at the practice yard, where he first requested, then demanded, a padded brigandine, weapons, and shield.
What could I do, Your Grace? I had him fitted out with regulation training weapons and a full-face, double-thick helm. Then I warned the weapon master that if any harm came to Alexandros, I’d have off his ears and nose.
“Well, they whacked away for a while, Weapons Master Rahn taking more blows than he gave. Then Lord Alexandros spun around and stalked over to the barrier where I was standing. He said that he had come for a practice bout, not a sword dance, that he’d rather fight me than old Rahn, and that I had better give him a real fight or I’d shortly wish I had.”
Mara could almost hear the quoted words, for they sounded so like that other Alexandros, that long years’ dead Alexandros. “And you fought him … really fought him?” she prodded.
Feeleepos nodded gravely. “Yes, Your Grace, I really fought him, and I pray that I never have to face him in actual battle. My lady, he is of slight frame and build, as you know. He was burdened with a thick, hot brigandine that reached to his knees and weighed exactly twice as much as a scaleshirt, ten pounds of helm, and double-weight infantry-style shield and sword; yet he danced around me like a cat toying with a mouse, a thrust here and a hack there, a slash at the legs, and a split second later a stab at the eyes. By straining every muscle, I was able to catch or deflect them all with either shield or sword; but when he shouted his war cry and closed with me, Your Grace, there was no way I could have stopped him. Then he stepped back and saluted me and thanked me for my efforts.