11.
Lord Miklos looked tired and grim when Nils was ushered into his chamber. The young barbarian didn't need psi to know the reason; Janos II had died unexpectedly during Miklos' absence and Janos III had ascended the throne.
"You traveled far to serve King Janos," Miklos said. "And now he is dead. And while I know little about you, what I do know I like. I will be happy to have you serve me, if you wish to."
"Thank you, my lord," Nils answered. "But I was to serve King Janos, and a Janos sits on the throne. Therefore, I will ask to serve him. If he refuses, and if you still want me, I will be happy to serve you."
Miklos walked to the window and stared out, then turned and spoke carefully in explanation. "Janos III is not the man you sought to serve, nor the same kind of man. If it wasn't for the family resemblance and the nobility of his mother, I could hardly credit the elder with the fathership. Janos II was a noble man, fair, firm, and honorable, a man well fitted to rule. The son, on the other hand, is at best shallow and petty, and it will seldom occur to him that there are considerations beyond his momentary whim. He is devious without the compensation of cleverness, gives no man his confidence and heeds no counsel.
"But the worst that is said of him is only rumor, I hope without grounds-that he will tolerate, if not actually sanction, the vile cult of Baalzebub. Perhaps I shouldn't have told you that, for I've seen nothing that can stand as evidence. But I fear. Not the man, but what he may bring."
"Nonetheless," Nils replied, "I must seek service with King Janos. It was forseen by a seeress whose worth I value highly."
"You believe in seers?"
"I believe in this seeress, for I know her powers. They saved my life once."
"And so she commands you."
"No. But what she said seemed right to me."
"I see. Well, I will not recommend you to the new king. Any recommendation from me he'd take as grounds for suspicion." Miklos looked long and perplexedly at Nils, then rose and held out his hand. "But I give you my best wishes. If you are refused, or enter his service and wish to withdraw, let me know."
The sergeant was explaining to the guard master. "He said he'd come several hundred kilometers to seek service with King Janos. He doesn't even speak Magyar and I had to use Anglic with him. But he's a giant"-the sergeant motioned with his hand somewhat above the height of his own helmet-"and something about him gives me the feeling that he's a real fighter and not just an oaf. And you know how his Majesty likes size in his personal guards."
"All right, Bela, I'll look at him. His Highness is tolerant of foreigners. But he'll have to look very good before I'll ask the men to put up with someone who speaks no Magyar."
The big iron stove was hot, and Nils, after the manner of the neovikings, had hung both jacket and shirt on a peg. Disdaining a bench, he squatted with his back to the wall, paring his nails with a large belt knife. When the two knights entered the guard room he arose, calmly and with a smoothness of movement that made the guard master suspect he might do, at that. After a few questions he sent a guardsman to Janos, asking for an audience. Shrewdly, he had Nils leave his jacket and shirt on the peg and took him to Janos with his torso bare except for harness.
Janos was a man of ordinary size, his face dominated by the pointed nose and red mustache of his father's line. Nils sensed no evil in him, nor anything else remarkable, only a mediocrity of energy and smallness of vision. At the king's command Nils rose from his knees. Janos' blue eyes examined him minutely without his face betraying his judgment, but Nils sensed that this was a man who was readily impressed by physical strength.
"Where are you from?" the king asked at length.
"From Svealann, Your Majesty."
"Svealann. And where might that be?"
"Far to the north, Your Majesty. Beyond the lands of the Germans lies the northern sea. Across the sea the Jotar dwell, and north of them the Svear. Beyond the Svear, no one lives."
"Ah. And is it true that in the north, so far from the sun, the lands are colder and snowier?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Then Svealann must be a terrible land. I don't blame you for leaving it. But why did you come all this way to seek service with the king of the Magyars, when there are other kings and realms, some closer?"
"A seeress told me that I would, Your Majesty, and so I did."
"A seeress!" Nils sensed that this impressed the king strongly. "And what seeress was that?"
"A woman who lives in the forest, Your Majesty, and talks to the wolves. Her name is Ilse."
Janos examined this indigestible bit and dropped it. "And do you fight well?"
"I'm told that I fight very well, Your Majesty."
Janos turned to the guard master. "Ferenc, let me see him tested."
For an instant the guard master was dismayed. Somehow he'd neglected to test the man! Suppose he was an oaf after all! "I will test him myself, if that will be all right, Your Highness."
"Fine. That will be abundantly demanding."
The guard master spoke to one of the throne guards, who went to Nils and handed him a sword and shield. Nils handled the sword lightly, its weight and balance registering on his neuro-muscular system. Then they faced each other with swords at the ready. The guard master began the sword play slowly, examining Nils's moves. Nils was content to parry and counter. The guard master's speed increased, and Nils sensed his growing approval. A sudden vigorous and sustained attack failed to make an opening, and the guard master stepped back, sweating in the heated throne room.
"He is very good, Your Highness," he said, turning to the king. "He's surprisingly quick and knows all the moves. His teacher must have known his business. If we'd been fighting instead of sparring, I would have been hard pressed, for then his great strength would have begun to count."
Later, in his chamber, the king ran for his privy counselor, a man whose role no others in the palace knew. And if any suspected, they kept careful silence. The man came at the king's call.
"Did you read the man that Ferenc brought to me for the guard?" Janos asked.
"Yes."
"What did you see in him? And was he telling the truth about a seeress?"
"He was truthful at all times, m'lord. I was limited in reading him because his native tongue is unfamiliar to me, but I assure you he was truthful. I believe he is unable to lie."
"You're joking!"
The counselor bowed slightly. "I never joke, Your Highness. There is that about him which makes me believe he is unable to lie."
"Amazing. That must truly be a handicap."
Sometimes you are almost discerning, the counselor thought to himself. And ordinarily I would agree with that reaction. I wish the swine held discourse with himself. I've never known anyone before who could stand fully conscious for several minutes and not talk to himself within his mind. And it isn't a screen. I will watch him carefully.
The guard soon accepted Nils as one of them, despite their normal animosity toward foreigners. In sparring he was never bested, but even so, the men sensed that he held himself in, and they interpreted that correctly as a desire to avoid making anyone look bad. His disposition was mild and harmonious. And he learned quickly, so that in a few weeks he could converse slowly on a fair assortment of subjects.
One day of his first week Nils was being instructed in Magyar by Sergeant Bela, when a boy in his early teens entered the guard room; he was dressed as a squire and spoke to the sergeant. Bela turned back to Nils.
"This is Imre Rakosi, Nils, a squire to the king. He wants to talk to you through me, as he doesn't have much confidence in the little Anglic he speaks. First he wants to know if it's true that you are a great swordsman."
"It is true," Nils said. He sensed an openness and honesty in the boy.
"And is it true that you come from a barbaric land far from the sun and have traveled in many lands?"
"That's true, too," Nils admitted. "Except that I have traveled only in several lands."