CHAPTER SIXTY TWO

There were horses, pigs and goats in the courtyard, and Chaldez looked around him, suddenly aware that he might have ridden into a trap. Nothing occurred, and the moment of fear passed. The courtyard filled up with riders of the Imperial Horse. And then came the soldiers of the Feet, followed by some of the more curious and bold of the townsfolk.
Chaldez called out in Theigan, all caution gone. "Havil? Havil! Come out and greet your cousin, your long-lost cousin. It is I, Chaldez. Are you afraid of me Havil? Do you hide because you are afraid? I am waiting for you, Havil!"
His voice echoed around the courtyard, and was greeted with silence, and he was about to start shouting again when a door leading into the courtyard opened and a slight figure came out into the daylight. A tremulous voice said "Chaldez?"
He stared in disbelief. He was looking at Doo. He thought at first that she must be a prisoner, but as his eyes took in the details of her appearance he realised he was mistaken. Her hair was well groomed and her face fuller than he had remembered it, and her clothes were handsome. He noticed that there were rings on her fingers; this was no prisoner. Doo was a collaborator! His throat went dry.
"Chaldez," she repeated, and her voice faltered. Behind her the door opened wider. Another woman emerged whom Chaldez did not recognise, and then Havil came out. He stood between the two women.
Chaldez unsheathed his sword. "You shouldn't be here" he said, his voice little more than a whisper, and he said it again shouting this time. Anger was enveloping him. "What are you doing in this nest of vipers? If I didn't see this thing with my own eyes how could I believe it? You and Havil! My own Doo in league with Histigga? I would rather have died than lived to see this day."
With those last words he was urging his horse forward. Doo's face was titled up; she was looking straight at him, and in her expression there was bewilderment, but no hint of fear.
Chaldez raised his sword, and momentarily had a vision of Doo’s body falling to the ground, blood spurting from the wound he had made.
He paused, his eyes wide and full of fire.
Her voice was hardly loud enough for him to hear.
“You must kill me Chaldez. I am here because I loved you too much.”
His expression must have altered, because when next she spoke, her voice was louder, firmer. “My love made me blind, Chaldez. I never saw you as Sigmar’s ally - the man who murdered your mother and father, How blind did my love make me, Chaldez, that I never foresaw that?”
Chaldez was keyed up for direct, simple action; this was not a moment for complications: Doo was a complication, and he’d have to deal with it later.
He directed at her a hard, cold stare, and urged his horse to take another step. It brought him opposite Havil, who was staring at the ground. He fell, the sword in his hand unused, his head split open. The other woman, splattered with his blood, fell to her knees. Chaldez wheeled away.
"Take this and the other to the dungeons,” he ordered. Then he forced his way through the throng to the gates and then into the open countryside beyond. He rode to a stream, dismounted and washed his face in its clear cold water. He had had to do it, he told himself over and over again. He had had to do it. Arwarnhi had been served. He had had to do it.
He rode into the town alone, was recognised as commander of the liberating army,
as surrounded and cheered. Hands gripped the harness of his horse and held it as a tall, slender man approached on horseback. He said that his name was Krame, the Lord Krame and that he had a house in the town. He hoped that the brave commander would honour him by taking food and drink with him. If he wished to, he could rest there.
Chaldez was thanking him when some of the townsfolk who had seen what he had done in the castle courtyard began to return to the town. He heard a voice in the crowd call his name, his real name, and he instinctively turned. Others began to shout it, and soon the air was filled with it, and he was not sure whether to be pleased or alarmed. The Lord Krame leant toward him and asked him if it was his name they were calling? It seemed pointless denying it, and Chaldez said they were.
"Our princess Shansi had a son called Chaldez . . . " Krame's tone was reverential.
"Yes, your princess was my mother. Queen of Sair. Wife of Egmar. Daughter of Taigram."
"So you are King?"
Chaldez smiled. "I should be, but there is a difficulty."
Krame was perplexed. "Difficulty?" he repeated.
"Sair has a king."
"I spoke of Kroya! You are Kroya's rightful King"
Chaldez stared at him. Then he said "If Taigram, my grandfather, is dead that is so. Is he? Is he dead?"
Krame became very excited. "These many years. The council of Marath must be convened at once and informed that you are here. This is a great day for Kroya!"
In Krame's household Chaldez found himself being treated as though he were already the confirmed King of Kroya. A hastily arranged banquet was held in his honour and that night, lying on a feather bed in the stateroom of Krame's magnificent house, he tried to assess the implications of his changed position. Sigmar would surely get to know of it, and what then? Would he make war on him, or try to have him assassinated? Impossible!
Lying awake, Chaldez decided that to be king of Kroya was all he wanted. Sigmar was welcome to the throne of Sair. In the morning he would send him a message to that effect. There was no need for them to be enemies; Sigmar had no need to kill him and he had no need to kill Sigmar. And with these thoughts he fell asleep.
The next morning he rode out of the town to visit his soldiers' encampment and was met outside the town walls by Weffjan, commander of the Feet.
"Is everything all right?" he asked.
"Yes, yes."
"I would speak to my brother Zahkahn Jeng. Take me to him."
"Sire, I cannot."
The camp was close by, and as they talked they had been moving towards it. Chaldez looked at Weffjan. "Why not?" he demanded.
Weffjan hesitated. By now they had reached the camp and while he waited for Weffjan's reply Chaldez looked about him. What he saw was shocking. The camp had been attacked. Bodies lay everywhere. Chaldez assumed at once that Dan was dead. He slid from his horse and siezed Weffjan by the front of his cloak. "Where is my brother?" he roared.
"Gone," was the answer.
"Gone? You mean you've killed him!"

"No no!" Weffjan was terrified. "He rode away, not long ago. He went with the horsemen."
"What's the meaning of this, then?" Chaldez indicated the bodies sprawled across the ground.
"Soldiers of the usurper. We killed them for your protection, Majesty."
The word burned a hole in the air. Chaldez scowled. "Who told you to call me that?"
Weffjan seemed to think he was out of danger. "We know you to be the rightful king of Sair. We know the usurper murdered your father, King Egmar, and your mother Queen Shansi."
"Zahkahn Jeng told you this?"
"He did."
"You say he left this morning; that he took the Imperial Horse with him?"
"Yes, Majesty."
An unbearable thought entered Chaldez's head. "Where did he go?" he asked, but he had no need to be told and was already getting into his saddle when Weffjan said "To the city of Budenrath."
Chaldez rode at a gallop all morning, but the horse grew exhausted and he had to let it drink and rest, and afterwards, do what he might, it would only go at a canter. He reached Budenrath in late afternoon and made straight for the palace.
A guard was mounted at its gates. As Chaldez approached, the horsemen saluted. One of them cried "Long live the king!" Chaldez stared at him and hurried on into the courtyard.
The place was overrun with members of the Imperial Horse. Chaldez dismounted and ran through the palace to Sigmar's quarters, passing on his way a number of Sigmar's own guards with their throats cut. Death was everywhere. He burst into Sigmar's chamber. Dan was there, and he called out excitedly "Chaldez, you are avenged!" and around the room gruff voices concurred. Chaldez paid no attention. The covers on the bed had been thrown aside and the bed was empty. He looked frantically about the room. Dan said "There. The usurper lies there. Dead, I hope."
He pointed to a rumpled heap on the floor near the bed. Chaldez went down on to his knees and pulled away the cloak that was covering the figure beneath it. Sigmar, his body wet with blood, made a slight movement, and Chaldez raised his head. Sigmar stared into his face. "Why did they do it?" he whispered.
Chaldez hesitated. "To avenge my parents . . . "
"They think I killed them? They think I killed Egmar and Shansi? They were dead, both dead, when I was offered the crown."
"You know who I am?"
A smile touched the dying man's lips. "Yes, I know who you are. For a long time I have known who you are. Feldak betrayed you. Your enemy Prince Feldak. He confirmed my suspicions long ago."
Chaldez had thought, when asking the question, that Sigmar had just found out, and now he felt shamed, like a small boy who learns that no one has believed his petty deceptions. "You've known for so long?" was all he could say.
Sigmar nodded, closing his eyes with the effort.
"Then why didn't you kill me?" Chaldez had raised his voice; his tone accusatory.
Sigmar opened his eyes again and was looking straight at him. "Killed you? How could I have killed you? I loved you like a son."
Chaldez cradled his head, and as the tears ran down his cheeks he whispered “My father…” for was this not the father of the man he had become?
Dan shouted "The usurper dies! Long live the King!" But Chaldez did not hear him, confusion and anguish sweeping away the sound of his voice.
One recurring question tormented him: why had he been preserved for this moment of triumph?
He found no answer, as he wept for his enemy.




THE END