The feud concerned two families of the Romarbol clan who had an argument over a grazing area in one of the eastern valleys called the Githal. The feud, as such, was not Menish’s concern but a member of each family, Traan and Gilth, had been involved in a raid against their common enemy, the Rithyar clan, and the unheard-of had happened. The two men had started quarrelling in the heat of the raid, drawing swords without the formality of challenging a duel. In the confusion the raiders were driven off and the Rithyar clan were delighted with the situation. The other raiders were furious. Their clan chief did not want to judge the matter so it was passed to Menish.
It took some time to hear the views of all those involved and Menish was weary of the case by the time they were finished. There was no simple answer. Traan and Gilth would not agree. The other raiders wanted compensation for the failure of the raid. There was only one decision that would come near to satisfying all parties.
“Here is the judgement of the King. It's not right to expect compensation for cattle not raided. Raiding always has its risks and those risks must be accepted. You should choose your companions more carefully in future. But Traan and Gilth did badly to fight each other when they had agreed to join the same raiding party. We've no law against it but it was not a noble action. I rule that they can settle their differences before us all in a trial of strength this afternoon. In doing so they can repay those of their raiding party they let down by providing a good fight. They'll be forbidden to duel for the next three months on any matter. And they both lose the use of the grazing land they fought over for that period.”
A cheer from those present greeted this judgement. A wrestling match was always popular, not least because Anthorians were keen gamblers. Menish could see them measuring the two contestants with looks, trying to pick a winner. He even heard Marayhir betting some of the cows he expected to receive that afternoon on Traan.
There were no more disputes to judge so Menish called for the midday meal to be served. Bowls of mein were distributed from the bubbling pots on the hearth. Menish saw Hrangil spooning his up hungrily and telling Yarol about the foul food they had had to eat on their journey. Menish rather liked the food he had eaten in Relanor, especially when they had dined with Vorish and Sonalish. It was richer and more elaborate than was normally served in Anthor. Sometimes he regretted that they were such a stark folk.
Althak’s gaudy presence, although it was often resented, was good for them. Menish watched him talking to a group of women and wondered how comfortable Althak was in this land. His interest in Keashil puzzled him, somewhat. She was no Vorthenki wench to be passed around among his friends. But he supposed she was the closest thing he could get to that while he lived in Anthor.
There was less suspicion of Althak now than there had been once. Menish himself always emphasised Althak’s bravery and praised his counsel when he gave it. There was a time when none of the women would acknowledge his presence except Adhara, and she did not like him. That had changed. Some of them would speak to him now, though there were still many who joked about the Vorthenki behind his back. Menish wanted them to like Althak. Althak and Vorish were both like sons to him in a way, children Adhara had never been able to give him. The words of the Keeper returned to him with that thought and he shut them out.
After the meal the whole court made a parade out to the wrestling ground. These things had to be done properly. Yarol had hurriedly made the dusty area of tramped earth outside the gates of the palace ready. The yak horn trumpets were blown before them as Menish and the rest of the court followed the two contestants. The wrestling ground had been roped off and two yak tail standards stood at each end. A big drum with cow skin stretched across it had been rolled into place just outside the ropes.
There was another blast on the horns as Menish took his place by the drum and the two wrestlers stood under their standards. They were pleased with Menish’s decision. Traan had already said that they were sick and tired of harassment from their own clan and ridicule from others. Besides, they were itching to get their hands on each other again. Menish took up the carefully polished leg bone of a horse that lay beside the drum and struck it. The resounding boom silenced the horns and the excited chatter of the spectators.
“Let the contestants make ready!” shouted Menish. There were attendants nearby, a pair of stable hands and several folk Yarol had commandeered from the kitchen, with pots of grease. The two contestants stripped down to their breeches and allowed themselves to be coated with the grease. They made a show of flexing their muscles and glaring at each other during this operation, Menish could see the spectators eyeing their form and haggling with each other over bets. The Anthorians loved a fight.
Menish waited until both Traan and Gilth signalled that they were ready and he beat the drum once more. By convention all betting arrangements had to be concluded by the second drum beat, though the rite of duelling was more ancient than their love of gambling. Adhara had once told him the yak tails were sacred to Kiveli, the Anthorian earth goddess, no one really used such things nowadays except like this in a formal fight.
The crowd became silent and Menish spoke again.
“Offspring of the heroes of Ristalshuz,” he addressed them formally. “You are here to witness the duel of Traan and Gilth. This duel will settle the matter that lies between these two. They are forbidden to duel with each other, by wrestling or by arms, for the next three months and they both lose the right to graze the Githal.” There was a murmur of approval from those who had been involved in the abortive raid.
“I call on Krith the Eternal to be the judge here. Let the duel commence!”
Once again Menish hammered the drum.
There was absolute silence from the crowd. The sound of a light wind flapping the yak tails and the shuffling of the contestants’ feet as they circled one another was all that could be heard. Their bodies gleamed with grease in the sunlight.
Both were stocky men, Traan a little heavier than Gilth, but there was not much difference. This would be a fight of skill rather than strength.
With a lightning movement Traan lunged, Gilth dodged to one side but Traan had expected it. His boot caught Gilth in the stomach as he fell past him into the dust. With a deft flip Traan was back on his feet before it could be counted as a fall. Gilth doubled over but did not fall. He dropped to a fighting crouch, chest heaving, and faced Traan. It was an old trick. Gilth should have seen it coming. Menish could see by the humiliated look on the man’s face that he was thinking the same thing.
Suddenly Gilth was on the offensive. He scooped up a handful of dust and flung it at Traan’s face. A second later they were locked together, arms fighting for a hold on each other’s greased bodies. Gilth managed to grasp Traan’s pony tail and jerked it down. Traan’s chin went up and Gilth’s forehead butted his throat with a vicious thud. Traan toppled backwards and crashed onto the ground. The yak horns blew.
Gilth stood back while Traan stood up again. There were few rules in a wrestling duel. No weapons were allowed and the first one to fall three times lost. For a fall to count the victim had to be allowed to regain his feet.
Traan was annoyed at Gilth’s ploy, there was a smouldering fury in his eyes. That was a bad sign for him, thought Menish. To win a duel like this one required not anger but a cool head. Traan charged Gilth like a bull and Gilth nimbly leapt aside. But not quickly enough. Traan was not as enraged as he appeared to be. His fist slammed into Gilth’s shoulder. Gilth tumbled into the ropes and dropped to the ground. He was up in an instant but not before the yak horns had blown.