Startled, deeply moved, Regis drew his sword again, held out the hilt to Danilo. Their hands met on the hilt again as Regis, stumbling on the ritual words, trying to recall them one by one, said, “Danilo-Felix Syrtis, be from this day paxman and shield-arm to me … and this sword strike me if I be not.just lord and shield to you. …” He bit his lip, fighting to remember what came next. Finally he said, “The Gods witness it, and the holy things at Hali.” It seemed there was something else, but at least their intention was clear, he thought. He slid the sword back into its sheath, raised Danilo to his feet and shyly kissed him on either cheek. He saw tears on Danilo’s eyelids and knew that his own were not wholly dry.
He said, trying to lighten the moment, “Now you’ve only had formally what we both knew all along, bredu.” He heard himself say the word with a little shock of amazement, but knew he meant it as he had never meant anything before.
Danilo said, trying to steady his voice, “I should have … offered you my sword. I’m not wearing one, but here—”
That was what had been missing in the ritual. Regis started to say that it did not matter, but without it there was something wanting. He looked at the dagger Danilo held out hilt-first to him. Regis drew his own, laid it hilt-to-blade along the other before giving it to Danilo, saying quietly, “Bear this, then, in my service.”
Danilo laid his lips to the blade for a moment, saying, “In your service alone I bear it,” and put it into his own sheath.
Regis thrust Danilo’s knife into the scabbard at his waist It did not quite fit, but it would do. He said, “You must remain here until I send for you. It will not be long, I promise, but I have to think what to do.”
He did not say goodbye. It was not necessary. He turned and walked back along the lane. As he went into the barn to untie his horse, Dom Felix came slowly toward him.
“Lord Regis, may I offer you some refreshment?”
Regis said pleasantly, “I thank you, but grudged hospitality has a bitter taste. Yet it is my pleasure to assure you, on the word of a Hastur”—he touched his hand briefly to sword-hilt—”you may be proud of your son, Dom Felix. His dishonor should be your pride.”
The old man frowned. “You speak riddles, vai dom.”
“Sir, you were hawk-master to my grandsire, yet I have not seen you at court in my lifetime. To Danilo a choice even more bitter was given: to win favor by dishonorable means, or to keep his own honor at the price of apparent disgrace. In brief, sir, your son offended the pride of a man who has power but none of the honor which gives power its dignity. And this man revenged himself.”
The old man’s brow furrowed as he slowly puzzled out what Regis was saying. “If the charge was unjust, an act of private revenge, why did my son not tell me?”
“Because, Dom Felix, Dani feared you would ruin yourself to avenge him.” He added quickly, seeing a thousand questions forming in the old man’s eyes, “I promised Danilo I would tell you no more than this. But will you accept the word of a Hastur that he is blameless?”
Light broke in the troubled face. “I bless you for coming and I beg you to pardon my rough words, Lord Regis. I am no courtier. But I am grateful.”
“And loyal to your son,” Regis said. “Have no doubt, Dom Felix, he is worthy of it.”
“Will you not honor my house, Lord Regis?” This time the offer was heartfelt, and Regis smiled. “I regret that I cannot, sir, I am expected elsewhere. Danilo has shown me your hospitality; you grow the finest apples I have tasted in a long time. And I give you my word that one day it shall be my pleasure to show honor to the father of my friend. Meanwhile, I beg you to be reconciled to your son.”