His snores would not be audible to anyone else, but to Hod they were as clear as a pig rooting at his feet.
The courtyard was empty, and in the distance between the palace steps and the temple columns, there were no indications that he and Ghisla were observed with alarm or even interest. The mount was accustomed to her late-night crossings.
He could not feel eyes the way he heard hearts or breath or movement, but he felt safe enough to speak before she reached the temple doors.
“I will wait for you on the hillside. If you cannot come . . . I will wait tomorrow. And the day after that. Until you know whether I lie.”
Dred of Dolphys and a handful of sweat-soaked, dust-coated warriors arrived on the mount three weeks after the king’s return from Berne. Dred demanded an audience with Banruud, who insisted Hod stand in front of him to deter a sudden attack.
“I do not trust Dred of Dolphys. He’s wanted to kill me for years, and he’s not afraid to die. He will keep his distance. If he doesn’t . . . you will respond accordingly.”
Hod did as he was told, positioning himself in front of the dais as Dred was ushered in and made to address the king from more than a hundred paces. Hod heard the moment Dred took note of him and the scoff of derision the old warrior released beneath his breath. Hod remembered Dred of Dolphys from the tournament years before. He’d liked him greatly. He wasn’t sure if the old warrior’s disdain was for him or for the king—or for both—but it bothered him all the same.
King Banruud listened with feigned boredom and blatant hostility as Dred made his complaint.
“We’ve had attacks from Berne on our borders, and we’ve had word that your caravan was attacked as well. Surely you know the conditions across the countryside. Yet nothing is done. Benjie sits in his keep and gets fat while his clansmen die . . . or prey on others,” Dred stated. “We went to him first. Now we come to you.”
“Are you the chieftain, Dred of Dolphys?” King Banruud said, yawning. It was a pretense; Hod could smell his nervous perspiration.
“You know I am not, Banruud.”
“Yes. I know you are not. Yet you come to me as if you are.”
Dred ground his teeth but simply waited for Banruud to continue.
“I have not seen the Temple Boy in all these years. Mayhaps he sits in his keep and gets fat as well?”
“What will be done, Banruud? I come to you in deference to your throne. I do not want war among the clans, but if things persist as they are, we will have no choice but to engage with Berne.”
“Is that a threat, Dred of Dolphys?”
“Yes, Majesty. It is. A threat and a warning. You have been a chieftain. Your father was a chieftain. I did not like him—we were fierce rivals—but I respected him, and he was a good chief. Benjie has not been a good chieftain. And now we all suffer.”
The men behind Dred shifted and rumbled in agreement, and the king’s guards at the doors seemed to acknowledge his words as well, many of them having been on the road from Berne when the caravan was attacked. But Banruud sighed heavily, as if Dred overreacted and asked too much.
“I will go to Berne again—before the tournament—and I will see to the matter myself,” the king grumbled. He was stalling. He would go to Berne to meet the North King and bring him back to the mount. The only consequences for the Chieftain of Berne would be administered by the disintegrating conditions in his clan . . . and the Northmen who would overrun him. Hod considered it another reason to let events unfold.
When the king dismissed Dred and the handful of warriors, Hod was instructed to follow them out.
“Make sure they leave the mount,” Banruud insisted. “I also want to know who Dred confers with and what is said. You can hear him?”
“I can hear him,” Hod confirmed.
“Good. Then see to it.”
He did so, not appreciating his new role as Banruud’s pup . . . though he supposed that’s exactly what he was. He had no intention of stirring up trouble or informing on Dred or his men, but he was curious about their sudden arrival and about Bayr, who had kept his distance all these years. In the end, that distance would serve him well, and it