Serpent's Strike (The Chronicles of Adalmearc Book 2), page 60
“That is he,” Quill nodded.
“You did not tell me how that friendship came to be,” Septimus enquired.
“He often helped me during his time as a page,” the scribe explained. “That was before I had an apprentice. I had the impression he preferred the company of books over that of his peers.”
“He might have good cause for that,” the high priest contemplated. “If I understand right, he has defeated one jarl on the battlefield. Two others have lost family members and blame him. Lastly, to our new prince, he is a rival. His very name declares it. I wonder what thoughts ran through his father’s mind to name his son Adalbrand and thus invoke the House of Adal,” Septimus considered, his gaze turning towards Berimund. “Did you hear about the captain of the kingthanes and the jester?”
“I did,” Quill shuddered. “To think such a small person could possess such great malice.”
“Have you heard more than that? After all, he cannot have acted alone,” the priest argued.
The scribe shook his head. “He leapt to his death and took his secrets with him. I know the kingthanes have looked into the records from the solstice games, but it seems pointless. If anybody else were involved, surely they have fled many miles from here.”
“Another mystery unsolved, which promises to return to haunt us.” With a contemplative expression, Septimus and Quill watched the jarl of Theodstan step towards the throne.
Kneeling, Theodoric spoke loudly that all might hear. “I swear fealty to you, my prince, and Theodstan bows before you.”
“Your fealty is accepted,” Hardmar spoke with a smile. He wore the colour of his house mingled with the blue colour of his ancestry; on his head, he wore a golden circlet laid with sapphires, which was custom for the prince of Adalrik to be adorned with. By his sides, Valerian and Konstans gave curt nods. “I am aware that Theodstan is a friend to the Crown.”
“Might I ask permission to approach, my prince?” Theodoric asked in a lower voice. “As a friend to the Crown, I wish to share a concern.”
“Of course,” Hardmar said, frowning.
Theodoric walked forward until his words would only be heard by the youth sitting on the throne and the two noblemen standing next to it. “As my prince hopefully knows, I have fought long and hard to protect the realm against traitors and rebels. With most of the House of Isarn imprisoned in your dungeons, it seems hopeful that our civil war is soon at an end. Yet a threat remains,” the jarl warned.
“What might that be?” Konstans enquired.
“A young commander who has usurped the affections of the soldiers and the people,” Theodoric said in a quiet tone.
“I know of whom you speak,” Hardmar replied, glancing towards Brand in the crowd.
“Certainly, his abilities have served the realm well,” Theodoric admitted. “But the war in Adalrik is all but won. There seems to be no further need for him here.”
“What do you suggest?” Hardmar asked with narrowed eyes. “Should he join the others in chains?”
“That might be drastic, my prince,” Theodoric hastened to say, raising his hands.
“You have something in mind,” Konstans declared, “so speak.”
“There is still war in Hæthiod. A troublesome one, according to latest tidings. Why not let what remains of the Order army carry out their initial orders?” Theodoric suggested. “A small army, not enough to win a war, but enough to quiet those who would protest if nothing was done. Let the young Adalbrand lead them into other realms, and let him be forgotten here. Once he no longer drapes himself in victories, people will not remember his name,” the jarl claimed.
“The idea might have merit,” Valerian contemplated, sounding uncertain.
“What of Alwood?” Hardmar sneered. “He has shown himself to be quite the malcontent.”
“Let him be sent against Isarn to share command with another,” Konstans decided. “Best to keep those two separate.”
“I leave the details in your capable hands,” Theodoric declared.
“You have done well,” Hardmar stated, to which Theodoric bowed his head. “You have my gratitude.”
The jarl of Theodstan moved on, allowing his margraves to take his place. Turning his eyes into the crowd, Theodoric gave an almost imperceptible nod at Brand, who glanced back but made no gesture of his own.
“Do you think it worked?” Arndis asked of Brand as she turned to look elsewhere.
“I think so,” Brand said quietly. “The jarl can be persuasive when he wishes to be. Not with me, but then again, few are as stubborn as I,” the newly minted knight jested. “One thing I do regret. If our plans come to fruition, I shall once again leave you alone among the wolves.”
“It was my idea,” Arndis replied. “We each have our battlefields, each our weapons to wield. I will do my part here. You may do yours in Hæthiod. That is our duty to our name and lineage.”
“My sister,” Brand smiled. “You have more courage than most men in armour I have met.”
“Question is,” Arndis said, changing the subject, “what shall we do today?”
“We shall have entertainment and amusement,” Brand declared. “As soon as Sir Richard joins us.”
As if summoned, the margrave appeared moments later, sticking out his tongue as if he had tasted something unpleasant. “It will require ale stronger than bull’s brew to wash the words from my mouth,” Richard claimed, scraping his tongue against his teeth.
“Sir Richard knows of a tavern nearby,” Brand told his sister as they began to walk out of the hall. “Come along, Matthew,” he called to his young sergeant, who woke from his daydreaming and hurried after them.
“A most reputable place, fear not, my lady,” Richard growled. “A playhouse, in fact, and a troupe from Fontaine is performing this afternoon. A play which I know your brother is partial towards.”
“Is that so?” Arndis exclaimed. “Which one?”
“The one called ‘The Brothers Swordsmen’,” Brand told the others. “I saw it more than once as a page. I was indeed quite captivated by it.”
“Truly? How can that be?” his sister asked.
“To be honest, by mistake,” Brand said in a light-hearted voice. “I misheard one of the names, you see. I thought he was called Adalbrand like me, and my imagination was lit on fire to think that the greatest swordsman under the sun bore the same name as me. Imagine the tragedy,” he continued with mock hurt in his voice, “when I realised he was, in fact, called Alfbrand.” The others laughed as they crossed into the courtyard, and Brand continued to speak, reciting lines from the play and entertaining his companions.
Returning from the throne room, Quill ascended the stairs to his library and entered. Inside, he found Egil and Kate, who had either snuck away from her duties or been given leave. They both raised their heads towards the door as he entered, but when they saw it was Quill, they returned to their discussion.
“No, he was really nice, kind,” Egil insisted, nodding his head. “Like you imagine a grandfather to be from the stories,” he explained.
Kate sat with her lips pressed together in a sceptical expression. “You sure it was the Highfather?” she questioned. “Couldn’t it have been another priest?”
“There’s only one wearing a grey robe. I was in the Temple. I know these things,” Egil claimed. “Besides, Master Quill called him Septimus.”
“Maybe there are lots of priests named Septimus,” Kate suggested with a shrug.
“Master Quill knows,” Egil declared. “Master?” he said louder to attract the attention of the red-robed man.
Quill, meanwhile, had walked over to stand by the window, staring absentmindedly out of it. Out in the courtyard, he saw Brand, Arndis, Richard, and Matthew cross the yard towards the gate, talking merrily with each other. “Adal,” the scribe muttered.
“Master Quill?” Kate asked, but Quill did not seem to hear. He left the library hall to enter the scriptorium, walking over to the Arnling Tome of Names. Opening it near the end, he found the latest pages where anything had been written. His eyes glanced over the letters until he found the words he sought.
“Adalbrand, born to Arngrim of House Arnling and Deirdre of Clan Lachlann,” the scribe mumbled as he read. “Hair dark and eyes blue. First child born to his father, heir to the house and atheling of Sigvard.” Finally, he reached the birth words as spoken by the norn upon Brand’s birth. “Dragon born of eagle wing, the noble blade revealed, and the ward of victory renewed.” Looking briefly at the first phrase, ‘Dragon born of eagle wing’, Quill’s countenance became wrinkled in thought. His sight came to rest at the words ‘noble blade’ again, his brow furrowed in contemplation. “Adalbrand,” Quill spoke quietly, and the light of realisation slowly became ignited in his eyes. “Sigvard,” he finally spoke as his eyes found the last phrase of Brand’s birth words. He grabbed the end of the great book, and with some effort, he slammed it shut.
The story will continue with Raven’s Cry!
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THE NOBILITY AND PEOPLE OF ADALRIK
The Dragonborn
The House of Adal
King Sighelm of Adalrik, high king of Adalmearc. Died in his sleep in the year one thousand ninety-seven. Called ‘the King of Grief’ in the last ten years of his reign after the death of his son and due to his orders of brutal repression against rebel highlanders.
Prince Sigmar of Adalrik, son of Sighelm. Slain in an ambush in the year one thousand eighty-seven, which sparked the highland war. Known as ‘the Dragonheart’, an epithet bestowed to the bravest members of Sigvard’s line, who are considered to have inherited Sigvard’s courage.
Lady Isabel of Hæthiod, wife of Sigmar. Born a princess of Hæthiod, sister to its now deceased king, Everard, and aunt to its current queen, Theodora.
Prince Sigmund of Adalrik, son of Sigmar and Isabel, atheling of Sigvard, and heir apparent to the throne of Adalrik and the Dragon Crown.
House Arnling
Lord Arngrim, knight of the Order. Slain in a mutinous fight in Heohlond during the highland war in the year one thousand ninety.
Lady Deirdre of Clan Lachlann, wife of Arngrim. Died in her sleep in the year one thousand ninety-seven.
Lord Adalbrand, son of Arngrim and Deirdre. Atheling of Sigvard and squire of the Order under Sir Athelstan, with whom he spent seven years in Alcázar.
Lady Arndis, daughter of Arngrim and Deirdre. Younger sister to Adalbrand.
House Hardling
Lord Hardmar, atheling of Sigvard and lord of the castle Hardburg and surrounding lands.
Lord Gerhard, second son of House Hardling.
Lord Inghard, third son of House Hardling.
Lady Gunhild, daughter of House Hardling and elder sister to Hardmar, Gerhard, and Inghard.
The Jarls of Adalrik
The House of Isarn
Jarl Isenhart of Isarn, with thirteen margraves as vassals. His jarldom provides the realms with silver for their coinage and iron for their steel. Known as ‘Ironfist’.
Jarlinna Halla of Irskog, wife of Isenhart.
Lord Isenwald of Isarn, eldest son of Isenhart and Halla and heir to the jarldom. Called ‘the Dull Knife’ behind his and his father’s back due to his slow speech and perceived slow wit.
Lord Eumund of Isarn, second son of the House of Isarn and squire of the Order.
Sir Athelstan of Isarn, brother to the jarl, knight of the Order, and considered its best commander due to his leadership in the highland war. Spent seven years in Alcázar as the high king’s envoy to the Kabir.
Lord Athelbold of Isarn, cousin to the jarl, a warrior of fearsome reputation, and along with Athelstan, the jarl’s closest counsellor.
Lady Anhild of Silfrisarn, wife of Athelbold.
Lord Athelgar of Isarn, son of Athelbold and Anhild.
Ulfrik, captain of the jarl’s thanes.
Ernulf, thane to the jarl.
The House of Vale
Jarl Valerian of Vale, with sixteen margraves as vassals. The richest man in the realm due to his control over the trade between Middanhal and Herbergja. Known as ‘the Bookkeeper’.
Jarlinna Alexandra of Jaunis, wife of Valerian and eldest daughter of Alexander of Jaunis.
Lady Valerie of Vale, daughter of Valerian and his first wife, Laura.
Lord Konstans of Vale, brother to the jarl.
Lady Mathilde of Montmer, wife of Konstans.
Lord Konstantine of Vale, son of Konstans and Mathilde. As nephew to Valerian, he is the heir presumptive to the jarldom.
Arion, chamberlain to the jarl.
The House of Theodstan
Jarl Theodoric of Theodstan, with seven margraves as vassals. Dragonlord until dismissed from service following the death of Prince Sigmar. Called ‘Fourfinger’ due to his missing left little finger.
