Nonetheless, Mara did the best she could to make the Sea Lord’s stay a happy one. Gooltes and Manos, his two bodyguard-servants, were augmented by a host of skilled slaves’ and a detachment of Lady Mara’s own private guard.
At the end of the first week, Lieutenant Komees Feeleepos, the detachment commander, reported to his mistress.
“My lady, Lord Alexandros makes friends quite easily. Indeed, I have come to admire and respect him … not that my personal feelings would in any way impair my loyalty to Your Grace, of course,” he added quickly.
“Of course.” She nodded. “He mixes well, then, with the court?”
The corners of the young officer’s eyes crinkled with his smile. “Oh, yes, my lady. He has received invitations to nearly every noble house in the city. Some, he has already accepted; five, he has attended.”
“Whose?” demanded Mara. “And what transpired?” “Theftehrah, it was dinner with Lord Neeaheearkos Petros and some of his officers. They spent most of the evening discussing the sea, the various coasts, ships, fleet tactics, plus navigation and other mysteries. To my thinking, Lord Petros still doesn’t quite trust Lord Alexandros, but he now has respect for his skills and experience … he might even like him, in time.
“Treetee was a dinner party at the town house of Lord Vahrohnos Paulos of Notohpolis … the Vahrohnos’ usual variety of party, of course.”
Mara’s lips wrinkled in disgust. She had always found it difficult to be even marginally polite to High-Lord Demetrios’ coterie of pederasts; but she had tried, mostly for the good of the Confederation, since many of them were powerful nobles and/or high-ranking and efficient officers. She had suffered many crushing disappointments in her long, long life; but, considering all that Alexandros’ name and physical appearance meant to her, she was fearful of asking her officer that question she knew she must. Trying desperately to mask any evidence of her inner turmoil, she inquired, “And how did Lord Alexandros enjoy the party?”
The lieutenant chuckled. “The Sea Lord wasn’t born yesterday, Your Grace. He obviously knew his host and fellow guests for just what they were. When he was offered the so-called place of honor—sharing Paulos’ dining couch—he very politely requested a chair, instead, saying that he suffered indigestion if he dined other than erect. He ate and drank and chatted in a most friendly fashion with all who addressed him. He lavishly complimented his host’s home, decorations, food, wines, and musicians; but he appeared to be completely unable to comprehend the meanings of a number of quite overt verbal overtures that the Vahrohnos, who seems rather taken by him, put to him. When the feasting was done and Paulos announced that the ‘entertainment’ was about to commence, Lord Alexandros rose, pleaded fatigue, thanked the Vahrohnos for the dinner, and we took our leave.
“I am reliably informed that, immediately subsequent to our departure, Lord Paulos threw a knife at one guest who made some comment or other, bashed in the front teeth of a second, then burst into tears and fled the dining hall.”
Mara felt as if the weight of a war horse had been suddenly lifted from her. She smiled broadly. Then another thought came to her and she frowned.
“Be very careful of the Vahrohnos and his clique, Fil, warn Lord Alexandros to be equally cautious. That kind of man can be petty and spiteful as an unpaid whore, when balked; furthermore, Vahrohnos Paulos is a veteran warrior and a duelist of some note, should he take it into his head that he has been publicly humiliated and decide to force Alexandros into a death match. Well, things could get very sticky with the men of the Sea Islands should any harm come to their Lord.”
Feeleepos smiled lazily. “Your Grace need have no fears in that direction.”
“Oh, I know,” said Mara impatiently. “You and your men will protect him from assassins, but if Paulos opts to call the Sea Lord out, man to man …”
“In the unlikely event, my lady,” he said, interrupting, “my money will go on Lord Alexandros. Have a death match between Paulos and Alexandros, and they’ll be putting a well-hacked buggerer in Paulos’ family tomb the next day! Believe me, my lady, I am a professional. I have seen the Vahrohnos fight and I have seen Lord Alexandros fight and …”
“When,” snapped Mara, her eyes flashing fire, “have you seen Lord Alexandros fight, Lieutenant?”
The officer squirmed under her glare. “My lady, Lord Alexandros spent his first two days touring the city, but on the morning after the Vahrohnos’ party, he said that he felt in need of some exercise. I took him to the main guard barracks, thinking that he might wish to swim ‘or run or jump or throw spears, but he insisted that we stop at the practice yard, where he first requested, then demanded, a padded brigandine, weapons, and shield.
What could I do, Your Grace? I had him fitted out with regulation training weapons and a full-face, double-thick helm. Then I warned the weapon master that if any harm came to Alexandros, I’d have off his ears and nose.
“Well, they whacked away for a while, Weapons Master Rahn taking more blows than he gave. Then Lord Alexandros spun around and stalked over to the barrier where I was standing. He said that he had come for a practice bout, not a sword dance, that he’d rather fight me than old Rahn, and that I had better give him a real fight or I’d shortly wish I had.”
Mara could almost hear the quoted words, for they sounded so like that other Alexandros, that long years’ dead Alexandros. “And you fought him … really fought him?” she prodded.
Feeleepos nodded gravely. “Yes, Your Grace, I really fought him, and I pray that I never have to face him in actual battle. My lady, he is of slight frame and build, as you know. He was burdened with a thick, hot brigandine that reached to his knees and weighed exactly twice as much as a scaleshirt, ten pounds of helm, and double-weight infantry-style shield and sword; yet he danced around me like a cat toying with a mouse, a thrust here and a hack there, a slash at the legs, and a split second later a stab at the eyes. By straining every muscle, I was able to catch or deflect them all with either shield or sword; but when he shouted his war cry and closed with me, Your Grace, there was no way I could have stopped him. Then he stepped back and saluted me and thanked me for my efforts.
“Of course, a crowd of off-duty officers and men had gathered around to watch; we don’t discourage the pastime, for observation, too, is a form of training. At any rate, Lord Alexandros pulled off his helm and asked if any of the onlookers would care to give him a bout. When no one immediately came forward, he suggested that the swords be tarred and offered a silver piece for every tar mark an opponent could put on him.
“With my approval, the weapons master took him on … and lost. Then he took on two other officers and a dragoon sergeant of the Harzburk Ambassador’s retinue. When he finally tired and took off his brigandine and helm, there was not one speck of tar on either!”
Mara shook her head in wonderment. “What did this champion, after all that?”
“He threw spears for a while, and then we had a swim. And he’s like a fish. I’ve never known a man who could swim so far under water!”
“How did he spend that night, Fil?” Mara was again friendly, her worry erased. “Another banquet?”
“No, Your Grace, he said that he felt like having a quiet evening. We dined in his suite, played zahtreekeeohee for a while—he checkmated me quickly, two out of three times, and I’m not sure but that he allowed me my one win—and then we simply sipped wine and talked.”
“Of what did you and he talk, Fil?” “Of so very many things, my lady, that I hardly know where to begin. He asked many questions concerning the court—who were the leaders and principal members of the various cliques, which cliques favored which high-lord or high-lady, the names of the most powerful men, and what were their vices or weaknesses. He asked many questions concerning our customs, not only of the court and palace, but of the city and countryside. He had me tell him all I knew of the Horseclans, He asked me to tell him of my hereditary city and lands, of my boyhood, of my campaigns and the different tribes I had fought, of my service and duties and various assignments since I entered Your Grace’s guard, of my future plans, of my hopes and aspirations. He dismissed me near midnight.” “What did he do the next day?”