Revenge (19 page)

In fact, the Queen was lying on a bed of plump cushions, sharing a private joke with one of her senior handmaidens about how well hung that particular man at the front of the group was. She put her finger to her mouth to hush the servant from laughing too loudly, though her own eyes were filled with mirth. Then her attention was caught by the white man. She could not see his face, which was hidden from her line of view, but his chest was broad
and muscled. It was rare to see a white man for sale. She would enjoy seeing him stand up naked, but she kept that thought to herself.

At that moment there came the noise of angry voices from outside the compound. She could see guardsmen moving towards the scene and her own head of the guard followed after, ordering his men to close in around her majesty.

Her own man returned with information. ‘It is the captain of
The Raven
, your majesty. He is a good man. Fearsome but honest. He says he has a serious grievance to present which involves these sailors who are selling their slaves today.’

‘I see. What is your recommendation, Klug?’

‘Your majesty, he has brought us many fine things, this captain. The quality of his goods is normally exceptional and, to my knowledge, his prices are always fair. He is held in high regard by the Caradoons and feared by other pirates and slavers.’

‘Then we can assume his grievance is justified?’

‘Yes, your majesty. I would suggest that Captain Quist would be unlikely to bring any small claim into your esteemed presence.’

‘Allow him in. I shall hear his grievance.’

‘Very good, your majesty,’ Klug said and, with a movement of his hand, indicated that Quist, three of his men and Locky were to be permitted entry to the compound.

Haryd felt his stomach turn.

Tor was not allowed to look around but guessed from Haryd’s face what had occurred. He had to
struggle not to smile. The three strode into view. Locky winked at him and Tor clapped eyes once again on the memorable patched face of Janus Quist.

‘Watch him!’ Quist said to his men, before moving to pay his respects to the Queen. His three men closed menacingly around Haryd, who was now dearly wishing he had never laid a finger on Locky. He did not even like boys. He preferred his sex with women, hard and rough, but he had felt desperate that night and his men had urged him on. They had been stuck on the island for weeks without word from
The Wasp
and had taken no women slaves during this time. The chieftains were getting clever, sending out scouts and putting their women and children into hiding before raids. Only this chief had refused to send his family away. And he had paid the ultimate price for that arrogance. Pity. The woman had been young and beautiful, as were the two girls. They would have made his nights far more pleasurable than the abusive lad had done. What could he do to find his way out of this situation?

Haryd watched Quist come to a halt before the Queen’s sparkling coach.

Lard made his announcement. ‘Her majesty Queen Sylven will now hear grievance. Would Adongo of the Moruks, Torkyn Gynt of Tallinor and Haryd of
The Wasp
please step forward.’

Naked but unabashed, Adongo and Tor walked side by side to where Lard pointed.

Inside her cocoon of veils, Sylven’s attention was riveted on the tall white man. What a glorious specimen
he was. As one might imagine a god, she fancied. She sat up to see him better. Not only was he fantastically handsome but his body matched his face…and, oh my, such arrogance. He was staring straight at her. She was not used to such behaviour but she rather liked his forthrightness, the fact that he was not cringing like Haryd. She marvelled at the incredible blue of his eyes and wondered, briefly, how it would feel to have him make love to her.

She dismissed the thought. Old Lardy was speaking again and she must pay attention.

‘We will hear from Adongo of the Moruks.’

The tall chieftain stepped forward. He began to speak and his voice was deep and measured. She noticed that he wasted no words, showed no unnecessary emotion and held himself regally. He spoke perfect Ciprean which took everyone by surprise. ‘My wife and two daughters, one of them not yet nine summers, were murdered by this slave trader, Haryd, your majesty. They were not taken as prisoners but summarily executed for no reason other than the pirate did not like the way I looked at him.’ Adongo paused. It was effective. ‘He dragged them in front of all our people, your majesty, and stabbed each in the heart. He kept the child until last, forcing her to witness her mother and elder sister dying horribly before her. But she was brave, your majesty, and would have made a fine elder of our tribe one day. She made no sound and gave no satisfaction to her killers. She turned to me with the knife in her chest and her lifeblood gushing over her dead mother,
and spoke her final words: “Father, I was born in blood from Mother and now I die with her blood mingling with my own. Avenge us.” She died quietly, your majesty.’

There was silence as Adongo’s listeners, awestruck by his composure and calm delivery, took a moment to realise he had stopped speaking. Looking directly at Haryd, the chieftain added, ‘There was no reason for their execution, your highness.’

Lard nodded, shocked by the horrific tale. ‘Queen Sylven will consider your grievance once she has heard all the complaints. I call Torkyn Gynt.’

The white man stepped forward, all of his lean, muscled body now on direct show to the Queen.

Sylven, disturbed by the chieftain’s story, was surprised and relieved to hear amusement in this man’s voice. ‘To be honest, Master Lard, although I do have a grievance, I just thought it would be worth my last moments as a free man to be this close to such a beautiful woman.’

Poor Master Lard nearly fainted at the audacity of the comment. He was surprised to hear a deep gurgle of laughter from behind the veils.

‘And how do you know of my beauty, Torkyn Gynt, when the Queen of Cipres never goes unveiled in public?’

Despite the barrier between them, he was staring directly at her with those arrogant blue eyes. ‘Your majesty, your taste alone gives away your beauty. Your palace is the most breathtaking building I have seen, and I have travelled far and wide. Your city—
what I could see of it from the slave cart—is exquisite and I would give anything to roam its streets. No, my lady, my guess is that your beauty is not only unrivalled in this Land…but anywhere in our world.’ She could see his eyes glinting with wicked wit.

Tor turned back to Lard. ‘Should I outline my grievance now, Master Lard?’

Lard could only nod.

Tor proceeded to tell his story again. When he had finished he bowed to the veils.

Lard responded. ‘Er…her majesty Queen Sylven will consider. Um…Captain Quist, please.’

Janus Quist stepped forward. ‘Your majesty, I claim grievance against Haryd of
The Wasp
. My young brother-in-law here,’ he said, tapping Locky on the shoulder, ‘was working his way across to Cipres aboard
The Wasp
to be with me. When it sank, he escaped with Physic Gynt but, together with Gynt and another of the ship’s crew, was captured by Haryd and his men. He was used forcefully as a whore by Haryd and his men and raped repeatedly on the night of his capture. If the physic had not stepped in, I believe he would no longer be alive.’

‘Thank you, Captain. Queen Sylven will consider.’

They all waited in silence for her command.

Sylven felt confounded to begin with. It appeared that all of these stories intertwined and led back to Haryd, who was clearly an unscrupulous brute. She took the time to work out how she could unravel their stories and come to a conclusion which would
ensure all felt fairly done by. Her eyes rested on Torkyn Gynt. There was something about him which fascinated her and it went beyond his disarmingly handsome appearance.

Sylven motioned to her maidservant that she would now pronounce her decisions. The word was given and Master Lard went through the protocol of informing the audience to pay attention. The Queen spoke.

‘Captain Quist, I believe the grievance truly rests with your brother-in-law. You must concede to him the demand for settlement of the complaint against Haryd. Such behaviour is intolerable, particularly as the boy was not fair game for slavers and his captors would have known this.’

Quist nodded his agreement.

‘Yet I feel that Adongo of the Moruks has a greater right to grievance than the boy and so I award to him the first chance to best Haryd. If Haryd survives, he must face the grievance of your brother-in-law. However, to compensate you for waiting your turn, I award all proceeds of the sale of the slaves in this group to you. Meanwhile, your brother-in-law is free.’

‘And Torkyn Gynt, your majesty?’ asked Lard.

‘He is not a slave. He is free to leave Cipres immediately.’

She noted Tor’s face twitch. Was it with pleasure? She could not tell but she intended to find out.

‘Adongo of the Moruks,’ the Queen called.

The chieftain stepped forward.

‘I cannot free you. You are a slave, owned now by the captain, and only he can free you. But I can offer you the chance to avenge the death of your loved ones. Will you fight?’

‘Yes, your majesty, I will fight.’

‘Then let the contest take place now, before the midday trading.’

The audience was over, though the Queen would remain at the marketplace to ensure her decrees were met.

Tor, Quist, his men and Locky gathered in a huddle around Adongo, whilst Beryd and Bluth allied themselves with Haryd. They looked nervous. If he failed, they would face a similar fate.

Locky introduced the captain to his friend. ‘Tor, this is Janus Quist.’

Quist clasped Tor’s hand in the Tallinese manner. ‘Locky has told me all about you and your connection with Eryn. She has asked me to help you find what you seek. I am at your service. What is it I can do for you?’

Tor looked at the man who had threatened Saxon’s life and stolen Cloot. He was not a man to be trifled with. There was no point in hedging.

‘Do you remember stealing a falcon from a Kloek outside a stracca den in Caradoon?’

Quist pulled his hand away as if he had been stung and stared at Tor. His eyes narrowed. ‘And what is it to you if I do?’

‘I have come a long way to get the bird back. You stole it from me. It did not belong to the Kloek.’

Surprise registered in Quist’s face but just then the Queen’s head guardsman called the proceedings to order.

‘There is no time for this now,’ Quist said. ‘We shall talk later.’

‘I’ll be waiting,’ Tor replied gravely.

They turned back to Adongo. He had tied a colourful loincloth around his waist.

Quist spoke first in clipped Ciprean. ‘What is your choice?’

‘Of what?’ Adongo said calmly.

‘Weapon, man! Did you think you were going to fight with fiddlesticks?’

Tor tried. ‘Adongo, you chose to fight Haryd. Do you know how to fight?’

‘I am not a fighter, Tor. I am Paladin; a protector.’

Quist shook his head and walked away, muttering about riddles.

‘Adongo, you must choose a weapon. This is a fight to the death.’

‘No weapon is required,’ Adongo said. The man was truly frustrating.

‘How will you defend yourself?’ Tor’s voice betrayed his concern.

‘In the Moruk way,’ was Adongo’s final comment on the subject.

‘Haryd of
The Wasp
chooses the cutlass,’ the guardsman announced. ‘And Adongo of the Moruks chooses…’

He stopped as he realised the man standing in the centre of the compound held nothing in his hands.

‘Adongo of the Moruks, you must choose a weapon.’

The chieftain stood silently, looking every bit as regal as a king. His eyes were closed and his long, lean arms hung loosely at his sides. He ignored everyone.

Tor spoke to him via the link.
Remember your destiny—the young one whom you must help.

My bonded one is almost here, Tor. I sense it.

Then you must not risk death.
He could hardly put it any plainer.

I will survive. But Haryd will not die at my hand. Nor will he die at yours.

It was a veiled message. Adongo’s charcoal-coloured eyes were open now and fixed firmly on Tor. He was warning him not to interfere with his powers or by any other means.

Tor shook his head; he felt helpless. Haryd was brandishing two cutlasses. He was barefoot now, wearing only breeches, no shirt.

‘Fight!’ called the guardsman.

Haryd began to circle the Moruk, swinging the blades in a menacing rhythm. He looked comfortable with them. Adongo still did not move; once again the eyes were closed in the lean face.

‘What is he doing?’ Locky groaned.

‘We have to trust him,’ was all Tor could think of to say. But it was of no comfort even to him.

Haryd continued his circling, trying to guess what the Moruk might do. However, he was not a man of patience or foresight. True to his impulsive character,
he made a run at his enemy, screaming his intent, both weapons lifted high above his head.

Just as the pirate was a moment from striking Adongo down, the chieftain leapt astonishingly high into the air and somersaulted backwards. As he did so, he kicked and one of the cutlasses went flying. His other foot connected with his rushing opponent. Haryd hit the ground hard, his chin taking the brunt of the impact.

It was a terrible landing and the audience groaned at the sound of bone breaking. Adongo was almost back in the same spot and, frustratingly for Haryd, standing still again, his eyes closed, arms loose at his sides. He was breathing evenly, as though smelling the fragrance of blossom on the air.

‘I’m not sure I just saw that,’ Locky exclaimed.

Quist stood with his mouth open in awe.

Is that the Moruk way, then?
Tor said.

It is,
came the measured reply.

Haryd was back on his feet. He rubbed at his swelling jaw; one arm hung broken and useless. He moved the remaining cutlass to his other hand with purpose, ignoring the pain. Murder was written on his face. He said something in pidgin. The other slaves watching looked horrified.