Chapter Seven

Maddon blocked the sword strike with his shield, and retaliated by stepping forwards and thrusting with the point of his own sword. His opponent quickly batted the blade away and went for a high slash, him barely enough time to bring his sword up to meet it. There was a clash of steel and Maddon strained to stop his blade being forced back into his face. Then suddenly the resistance was gone, and he went forwards, being almost instantly battered by the shield which swung and hit him on his right side, knocking him to the ground.

“These are basics Maddon, come on. You never lock your blades like that with someone stronger,” said Falk sternly. “Did you see what I did? I moved my back foot to the side and spun so that you’d come forwards, off balance, and then used my shield.”

“I saw,” muttered Maddon bitterly, spitting and taking the hand that was offered and pulling himself up, instinctively looking around even though they were in walled-off private training area inside the castle.

“Good, then you’ll be able to do it,” said Falk, tapping his sword against his shield in invitation.

Maddon went right into the fight again. The balding weapons master was fifty-six, with greyish stubble, and not overly quick. Nevertheless he seemed to be able to predict his every move. He supposed that was what came from being constantly trained as soon as you could hold a sword. After doing his ten years of service he had distinguished himself enough to be offered a place as Weapons Master, supervising the training of everyone in the castle who needed it.

He knew he had to pay attention in these lessons. The Darrowmeres would arrive in a week or so, and he still didn’t feel ready for the melee. He’d hardly practiced the joust at all either.

When Falk began pressing the attack, Maddon was ready for him, waiting for the right moment and then dodging around him, swinging the front of his shield into the man’s side. Falk took the hit but didn’t stumble. He looked unimpressed.

“Hit me properly,” he said.

Maddon swung his shield around again, harder, into Falk’s leather armour. The Weapons Master still stood there looking at him.

“In the tournament you’ll have to hit someone hard to beat them, you know, they won’t let you break their crest just because you managed to score a hit,” said Falk. “Put your whole body into it, don’t just use your arm.”

Maddon gritted his teeth. If the old man wanted to be hit then it wasn’t his problem. He twisted around and then swung his elbow in for the strike, putting his shoulder behind it. But Falk had dodged out of the way and Maddon ended up swinging into nothing, while Falk’s shield swung around to hit him in the back, making him lose balance. He ended up kneeling in the grass with his opponent’s sword hovering by his neck.

“As well as being forceful you need to be balanced, you can’t guarantee they’ll take the hit,” said Falk.

“I’m a prince, shouldn’t that get me special treatment?” muttered Maddon under his breath, getting to his feet.

“Let’s practice that move again,” said Falk. “Whenever you’re ready.”

After a couple more tries he got the hang of it, and felt confident enough to suggest something else.

“Ariana normally starts with an upwards sweep, then a high strike, and after that a feint leading to a strike aimed at the knee, can you help me practice against that?” asked Maddon, casually leaning on his sword and acting like it was no big deal.

Falk gave him a look, unimpressed.

“I’m not here to train you to fight your sister,” he said. “If you want to beat her, the best thing to do is improve your general fighting skills.”

Maddon scoffed.

“I can’t beat Ariana with improvisation, I know she’s the more naturally gifted. If I want to win I need to tailor my style specifically to counter her. You’ve been training her as well, you can help me with that,” said the prince. “The King would be far more impressed with you if his heir ended up winning than the princess, he already knows my sister is a good swordsman.”

“I don’t think pitting you two against each other would please your father very much,” said Falk.

“It’s not pitting us against each other it’s training me to give me the best chance of winning the tournament,” persisted Maddon. “Besides, the King has other things to worry about. I hear that Mr Tesserell might have run into trouble with the miners. The King might want someone else commanding the men protecting the supply line.”

He glanced up at Falk, hoping his intentions weren’t embarrassingly obvious.

“And who is the King considering?” asked the Weapons Master, not showing any emotion.

Maddon shrugged.

“He hasn’t shown much preference towards anybody yet, he’ll probably pick whichever of the council members volunteers for it, which I think would be a shame. They’re all either inexperienced or too old,” he said, not looking at Falk while he flicked his sword tip up with his foot. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t choose any of the nobles.”

“Of course not,” said Falk dryly. “I suppose you’re saying that I would be considered if you said a few words to him.”

“Well I think you would be perfect for the job, and it won’t take much for the King to see it,” said Maddon innocently. “Tesserell is a fool who can only follow orders, he doesn’t think. The King wants a man who can think on his feet and take control of the situation. The way you’ve trained all of the knights shows you can keep the men in line. I can’t think of a better man. It would be easy to recommend you at the upcoming council meeting when the subject is broached.”

“And why would I want to lead these men against a few peasants?” asked Falk.

“Well it would show to the King how loyal and useful you are when you do a good job. Doing well could even lead into becoming the next Captain of the Guard.”

Falk said nothing for a few moments. Maddon tried not to let his cheeks flush. The Weapons Master was employed by his father, and Maddon was pretty much a child to him. It wouldn’t surprise him if Falk laughed away the offer and ridiculed him, but the words had just come to him and he had gone with it. The flattery felt painfully obvious but people always saw the best in themselves, and Falk might believe everything Maddon was saying to be true. It was said by many that the current Captain of the Guard was getting too old for his job.

“You’re a devious little bastard aren’t you?” laughed the Weapons Master. “I see no harm in training you to the best of my ability. I am duty bound to serve all Farhorns after all, so if Ariana made the same request I would of course oblige, and how I train the knights is no great secret.”

Maddon smiled, relaxing and shrugging.

“Of course, it’s your job, and this is private training, it’s between us,” said the prince. “And also, if you happen to see a tall bald man in a cloak wandering about, I would appreciate it if you could tell me.”

“Alright then,” agreed Falk, giving him a curious look before returning to his usual serious tone. “Well first thing to bear in mind is that you have slightly longer reach than Ariana, but she’s quicker and will want to play aggressive. We can work on your manoeuvring, and I know Ariana’s style well enough to mimic it.”

“The other knights too?” asked Maddon.

“A few of them have noticeable weaknesses, yes,” said Falk. “But it will take a while to cover it all, and time is short.”

“I know,” he replied. “No time to waste then.”

He went into a fighting stance, and they resumed their training. Maddon felt very pleased with himself. His offer should give the Weapons Master a much better incentive to help him. He was starting to feel he had a chance to win this tournament.

***

Maddon glanced over the board in front of him, his mind elsewhere. He had let himself get distracted by recent events with the miners and the upcoming tournament, but what he should really have been thinking about was his theory that there was a spy in Rivergate and what he should do about it. The problem was, the place was always teeming with people, and he didn’t know how to flush the person out. Maybe it had been a mistake not to go to his father straight away, but he hadn’t seen what good a search would do when no sane person would carry incriminating information on them. If Maddon went to him now though, he would have to explain why he hadn’t said anything straight away and that would land him in a heap of trouble.

“Ok here we go,” said Maddon, moving all his separate cavalry round to the flanks, keeping them a safe distance away from his opponent’s pieces so they couldn’t be intercepted. He would have a clear line to mop up Devin’s archers now, and then circle round to attack the infantry.

The game had complicated rules on the numbers of each piece you could choose and the damage each unit did to another, but the principles weren’t too difficult. Swordsmen did better against spearmen, spearmen did better against cavalry, and cavalry were good for quick movement and attacks from the flank or rear. It got more complicated with pikemen, which had their own set of rules, while archers and artillery had additional constraints like ammunition and range. Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t a game Ariana generally had the patience for.

Devin picked up the cup and shook the dice enthusiastically. John’s youngest son was only eight years old, but he was probably already brighter than both of his older brothers. Maddon liked to think it was his influence, having spent quite a lot of time with the child, and taught him how to play torram, as they were doing now in the dusty old library. He could hardly stand to be around Edmund and Robard, but Devin looked as if he would make a very capable lord someday.

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen a tall bald man anywhere?” said Maddon, grimacing at Devin’s good roll against his infantry line.

“Why?” asked the kid, looking confused.

“Just a secret friend of mine who I haven’t been able to find,” he replied. “If you see someone like that, maybe in a cloak, come and tell me right away, and I’ll see if I can get you a treat as a reward. You’ll need to be careful though, he’s quite shy, you can’t tell anyone about him or he might run away.”

“Ok, what kind of treat?” asked Devin, moving some pieces about on the board.

Maddon laughed.

“If you find my friend for me, whatever you want,” he said, absent-mindedly moving his cavalry, which Devin had not managed to stop. He rolled, not bothering to look at the damage chart, which he knew off by heart now with perfect accuracy. Devin’s archers would be dealt with, and then he could round on the infantry and his general.

“So did you see anything interesting while you were running around today?” asked Maddon, passing the dice over.

“Oh! I just remembered, I saw one of the cats catch a mouse today!” exclaimed Devin excitedly. “It ran after it really fast and then caught it, and it ate its head first, and then all the rest of it.”

“Wow,” said Maddon, nodding with fake enthusiasm, “that must have been nasty.”

“It was fine,” said Devin, rolling the dice, and laughing excitedly as he removed three of his cousin’s infantry pieces from the board. “There! I’ve won now!”

“What?” asked Maddon, his heart skipping a beat as he looked over the board. That couldn’t be right, he had been a few moves from finishing Devin off. His face started to flush when he realised that the kid was right. The gaps in his line left a space for his one unit of heavy cavalry to storm through to his general, and there was no way to stop it, barring an incredibly unlikely series of rolls in his favour.

“See?” asked Devin happily. “You left your general on its own, so I can just kill it like I wanted to.”

“I can see that,” said Maddon, digging his nails into his palms and taking a deep breath. He had given the boy a handicap at the beginning but it shouldn’t have been enough for him to win, when Maddon was twice his age! He had got too distracted, both by his thoughts, and by getting caught up in his own moves. He managed to force a smile, controlling the anger. “Well done. Want to do another quick game?”

“No, too long,” said Devin, getting down from the chair. “See you at dinner.”

“But-” the eight-year-old ran off before he finished speaking, not bothering to help pack up. Maddon slammed a fist against the table, sending dice and torram pieces rolling onto the floor. He closed his eyes and concentrated, trying not to let himself get carried away, and when his temper felt under control he opened them again, and looked around him. The afternoon light coming in through the large windows was reflecting off the dust particles as they swirled about in the air, around the hundreds of books that the library possessed.

Maddon examined the indents he had left on his hands. He had never been good at losing, even as a child. He had once been an equal, if not better swordsman than Ariana. Then one time he had got ill and been bedridden for weeks. While Ariana kept training Maddon had only books and weakening muscles. When he finally found his feet again Ariana beat him easily and with poor grace, which Maddon didn’t handle well. A gap which he could have perhaps recovered from just got worse and worse as he avoided training and Ariana kept on practising. The tournament was his best chance to regain some of what he had lost, and he would seize it enthusiastically.

Sighing, he bent down to gather up the pieces. The last one had rolled under the bottom of one of the bookcases, and as he reached for it, his eyes caught on an ancient book which was so covered in dust that the title was unreadable. Maddon and Devin had chosen this part of the library because they knew they wouldn’t be disturbed. Nobody ever came to this section for anything. He picked it up, dusting it off and examining it. The Construction of Rivergate Castle.

“Interesting,” murmured Maddon to himself. When being taught the history of the Kingdoms, it had mostly progressed from the first ruler in the first castle. Not much was known about the time before that, or how the castle had come to be built. As someone who liked to know things which other people didn’t, he thought it might be worth reading. It was conceivable that he was the first person in the last few hundred years to read it. He picked up the heavy, leather bound book and dusted it off. Then he went to find a candle, lit it, and set it down on a desk. It opened naturally at a point roughly halfway through the book, where a key had been tucked in. Maddon shrugged and scanned the page.

The lettering was old-fashioned and hard to read, but he began to get used to the style. The author didn’t go into much detail about the people building the castle – it mostly seemed to be writing about the materials, and diagrams of what was to be built. Maddon suspected that the book was the work of the architect, perhaps intended as a personal record. It was interesting recognising parts of the stonework which he couldn’t even recall noticing, and other old sketches showing the original designs which no longer held true.

Maddon looked over a floor plan, trying to get his bearings of which room was which. He eventually pinpointed the throne room, and worked the rest out from there. They had a large page covering every floor, but it was the underground floor where something stood out to him. A one word annotation had been added in the cellar, something which made no sense at all: entrance.

He checked the next page, which was an old map of Rivergate, before the additional set of walls had been built to contain the overflowing city. A thin, black line led from the castle, stopping abruptly at a temple outside what were now the inner walls of the city.

It was a tunnel, he realised, with shock. Whoever it was who had ordered the building of the castle, they had been paranoid or secretive enough to build a tunnel from the castle out of the city. Maddon lay back in the hard chair, taking it in. If it still worked, then this was a massive piece of knowledge. And he might be the only one who knew about it.

Next Chapter: Chapter Eight