Shaidos cleared his throat. “I am certain that he will, sir. I set identical conditions for our own meeting … if ever it comes to pass.”
Alexandros smiled coldly. “It will, little bumboy, it will. Have no fear.”
Though cloudy, the morning was bright. Duels were supposedly a private affair, but news of this one had traveled widely, for Lord Paulos had many friends . . . and twice as many enemies. The yard was a frequent setting for duels, many of them as well attended as this one promised to be, so the guardsmen had set up the wooden bleachers and awnings the afternoon before; by dawn, every inch of board had been rented, and the guards were dragging stools and benches from their barracks to seat latecomers … at an exorbitant price, of course. Rumors that High-Lady Mara was in attendance passed through the throng, but since all the ladies were heavily veiled, there was no certain knowledge. Guardsmen passed through the throng, as well—a few hawking cool wine and sweet meats and heavily salted biscuits, most engaged in making bets on one contender or the other.
Within the yard, Feeleepos and Djeree reported back to Alexandros after examining Lord Paulos’ gear and weapons. “His cuirass and greaves are fancier but of no better quality. He had a nasal on his helm, but we made ‘ them remove it. There is a springspike in the boss of his buckler and the iron rim is knife-sharp all around. You should make him use another. . . . You can, you know, under the Code.”
“The men of Kehnooryos Makahdohnyah often cany shields like that,” replied Alexandros slowly. “No, I’ll not protest. Let him bear that shield. Perhaps I can show him a pirate trick when I’ve tired him enough.
“What of his sword and dirk?”
“I don’t think his dirk blade is envenomed, Alex.” Djeree grinned. “But I pissed it down from one end to the other, just for luck.”
Now Alexandros knew what had prompted the angry shouts at the other end of the yard. It was well known that somehow urine would cleanse most poison pastes from steel. But to imply that someone like Lord Paulos might bring a poisoned dirk to a duel. ..
“And what was the outcome of that little episode, Djeree?”
Still grinning hugely, the old fighter shrugged. “I’m to meet him next week—if you leave anything of him. We’re to fight with sabers, mounted.”
“The sword Lord Paulos brought was a ground-down broad sword, the type they normally swing with two hands in the Middle Kingdoms; of course, the hilt had been shortened and the blade was the proper width and length, but the weapon was far heavier than yours, due to the fact it was half a finger thicker,” stated Feeleepos soberly. “Djeree and I protested, naturally, and Captain Nathos backed us up after he’d swung and hefted it. So Paulos will be fighting with a regulation guard’s sword, identical to yours, my lord.”
The sun peeked briefly through the clouds as the combatants crossed to the center of the yard, where waited the senior-captain of guards, who had been agreed master for this duel. Behind him stood two archers, their hornbows strung.
Lord Paulos shone like a jewel as the sun sparkled on his gold-inlaid armor. Alexandros’ armor—chosen, like the rest of his panoply, from the main armory—was browned for field service, its only decoration being an abbreviated jet crest on his helm and the Three Orks of the Sea Isles copied onto the front of his cuirass and the face of his buckler by a palace artist. In the bleachers, Paulos’ friends laughed and joked at the Sea Lord’s drab
appearance.
Senior-Captain Nathos bade them halt face to face and five feet apart, their attendant-gentlemen a few feet behind them.
“My Lord Alexandros, I will recite these rules mostly for your benefit. I am certain that Vahrohnos Paulos could recite them in his sleep, so often has he stood here. Since this is to be a death match, I’ll not go into the signals for withdrawal. Much as I detest seeing Ehleenoee noblemen kill each other, it is not my function to attempt mediation of your quarrel.