“Ride forward and enter your lands, coz,” said Korin, grinning at him. “All hail Tobin, son of Rhius, Prince of Ero, and rightful scion of Atyion!”
The rest of the company cheered and beat their shields as Tobin nudged Gosi forward. He felt silly with all the fuss; it was the same thick forest on both sides of the markers.
A few miles farther on, however, the woods ended and the road wound on through an open plain toward the distant sea. Topping a crest in the road, Korin reined in and pointed. “There it is, the finest holding outside Ero.”
Tobin gaped. “That’s all—mine?”
“It is! Or will be, anyway, when you come of age.”
In the distance, a large town lay in the bend of a meandering river that snaked its way to the sea. The farmlands were dotted with tidy steadings and laced with low stone walls. Sheep and large herds of horses grazed in some, while others enclosed fields and budding vineyards.
But Tobin had eyes only for the town and massive castle that dominated the plain by the river. High stone curtain walls studded with round bastions and corbels and overhung by extensive hoardings of stone and wood enclosed the landward sides of both. The castle itself was square, and dominated by two large towers of reddish brown stone. Almost as large as the New Palace and more heavily fortified, it dwarfed the town below.
“That’s Atyion?” Tobin whispered in disbelief. He’d heard of its great wealth and grandeur, but with nothing to compare it to, he’d imagined it simply a larger sort of keep.
“I told you it was big,” said Ki.
Tharin shaded his eyes and squinted at the long banners flying from the towers and the peaked roofs of the corbels. “Those aren’t your colors.”
“I don’t see Father’s, either,” said Korin. “Looks like we’re in time to give him welcome, after all. Tobin, you take the lead and let the lazy fools know you’re coming!”
The standard-bearers galloped ahead down the muddy, rutted road to announce them. The Companions followed at a fast trot. The farmers and drovers they met cheered their approach. By the time they reached the gates a crowd had gathered to greet them. Tobin’s standard was mounted on the tall pole over the gate, but just below it hung another, one he and Tharin recognized—Solari’s golden sun on a green field. It wasn’t quite the same, though. The device at the top of the standard pole was not the bronze ring of a lord, but the silver crescent of a duke.
“Looks like Father has chosen Atyion’s new Lord Protector already,” said Korin.
“And promoted him, too,” Tharin noted.
“He was your father’s liegeman, wasn’t he?” asked Korin.
Tobin nodded.
“Well, that’s an improvement over the last choice!” Tharin said. “Your father would be pleased.”
Tobin wasn’t so certain. He’d last seen Solari when he came with the others to bring home his father’s ashes. Solari and Lord Nyanis had been his father’s most trusted liegemen. The day Solari had come to take leave of Tobin, however, Brother had appeared, whispering of treachery.
He told his captain he would be lord of Atyion himself in a year—
“He’s lord of Atyion now?” he asked.
“No, that passed to you by right,” Tharin assured him. “But Atyion must have a Protector until you come of age.”
Alerted by the standard-bearer’s arrival, a larger crowd had gathered in the market square beyond the gate. Hundreds of people pressed forward to catch a glimpse of him, laughing and waving kerchiefs and scraps of blue cloth in the air. Korin and the others fell back, letting Tobin take the lead. The roar took on a rhythm; the crowd was chanting his name.
“To-bin! To-bin! To-bin!”
He gazed around in wonder, then raised his hand in a tentative wave. The cheering doubled. These people had never laid eyes on him before, yet they seemed to know him on sight, and to love him.
His heart swelled with a pride he’d never felt before. Drawing his sword, he saluted the crowd. They parted before him as Tharin led the way down a winding, cobbled street to the castle.
Children and dogs ran excitedly beside their horses and women leaned out of windows, waving scarves at the men below. Looking back over his shoulder, Tobin saw that Ki looked as happy as if he owned the place himself.
Catching Tobin’s eye, he hollered, “I told you, didn’t I?”
“Home at last!” Tharin cried, overhearing.
Tobin had always thought of the keep as home, but Tharin had been born here, and his own father, too. They’d ridden these streets together, played along the walls and riverbank, and in the castle looming ahead.
Tobin pulled out the signet and ring and clasped them, imagining his father bringing his bride here to the same sort of welcome. But his new sense of homecoming was already mingled with something darker; this should have been his home, too.
The town was clean and prosperous. The market squares they passed were lined with shops and stalls, and the stone-and-timber buildings well built and in good repair. Corrals filled with fine horses seemed to be everywhere, too.
They were nearly to the castle walls before it occurred to Tobin that he’d seen no beggars in the streets and no signs of plague.
A wide moat separated the town from the castle walls. The drawbridge was down and they crossed it and galloped through the gate into an enormous bailey.
Inside the safety of the curtain wall stood a small village of barracks and stables, cottages, and rows of workmen’s stalls and forges.
“By the Light,” Lutha exclaimed. “You could fit most of the Palatine in here!”
There were more horse corrals, and herds of sheep, goats, and pigs watched over by children who waved excitedly to him as he passed.
Ranks of soldiers lined the way; some wearing his colors, others in Solari’s. They shouted his name and Korin’s, called out to Tharin, and beat their shields with their sword hilts and bows as the entourage passed. Tobin tried to count them, but couldn’t. There were hundreds. He was glad to recognize a few faces here and there; men who’d served with his father.
“About time you brought the prince home!” an old veteran called out to Tharin, restraining a huge boarhound on a chain. The dog barked and struggled; it seemed to Tobin the creature was looking at him.
“I told you I would one day!” Tharin shouted back. This drew even more cheering.
Solari and a blond noblewoman stood waiting for them at the head of the castle’s broad entrance stair.
Solari’s herald raised a trumpet and sounded a shrill salute, then cried out in a loud, formal voice: “Greetings to Korin, son of Erius, Prince Royal of Skala, and to Prince Tobin, son of Rhius and Ariani, Scion of Atyion. Duke Solari, lord of Evermere and Fair Haven and Lord Protector of Atyion and his good lady, Duchess Savia, bid you most welcome.”
Tobin swung down from the saddle and let his Protector come to him. Solari’s curly black hair and beard showed a thicker sprinkling of grey now, but his ruddy face was still youthful as he dropped to one knee and presented his sword hilt to Tobin.
“My liege, it is my very great honor to welcome you to your father’s house, now yours. His Majesty, King Erius, has appointed me Lord Protector of Atyion until you come of age. I humbly seek your blessing.”
Tobin clasped the hilt and looked hard into the man’s eyes. Despite Brother’s warning, he saw only welcome there and respect. Could Brother have been wrong, after all, or lying to make trouble, as he had with Ki?
As Solari smiled up at him, Tobin wanted Brother to be wrong. “You have my blessing, Duke Solari. It’s good to see you again.”
Solari rose and presented his lady. “My wife, Your Highness.”
Savia curtsied deeply and kissed him on both cheeks. “Welcome home, my prince. I’ve wanted to meet you for so long!”
“I suppose it wouldn’t be dignified for me to swing you up on my shoulders as I used to?” Solari said, dark eyes twinkling.
“I guess not!” Tobin laughed. “Allow me to present my royal cousin. And you remember Sir Kirothius, my squire.”