reached Novrod of this strange occurrence. It was not wise to leave his city for too long with his mounted border watchers.
Returning to the flickering circle of light, Ivor settled down on his camp stool and looked about at the nervous stares that greeted him.
"Send for that damned bard of mine," Ivor snapped.
Grabbing hold of a wooden mug, Ivor leaned over and scooped out a tankard of stale beer from the small barrel byhis side. Draining the drink off, he scooped out another round and looked up to see the peasant he had sent for.
"Where in the name of Kesus have you been?" he roared.
The rotund peasant looked at him wide-eyed.
"Composing a new ballad in honor of my lord," he said nervously.
"Kalencka, I know damned well you were hiding. I saw you not with my household when we advanced. I grant you the scraps of my feasting table, and dammit, I expect payment of loyalty in return," Ivor roared.
"But my lord, I needed a vantage point to observe your heroic actions so I could record them later in the Chronicles."
Ivor looked at the man with a jaundiced eye.
Damned peasants, they were all alike. Lying, murderous scum, loud to complain, first to run away, and always ready to blame their betters for every ill. There were times he thought he or the Tugars should simply murder the entire lot so he wouldn't have to put up with their stench.
"You seem to be able to talk your way out of anything," Ivor replied coldly, "so I've decided you can be of some use to me rather than stealing from my table for nothing but badly worded verse in reply."
"Whatever you wish, my lord," Kalencka replied, bowing low so that his right hand swept the ground.
"Go to the camp of the blue ones."
Kalencka looked up at Boyar Ivor, his eyes growing wide with fear.
"But my lord," he said softly, "I am a ballad maker, a chronicler, not a warrior."
"That is why you are to go," Ivor retorted, the tone in his voice making it clear that any argument could have the most unpleasant results.
Ivor looked around at his men and then to Rasnar.
"There is no rush in these things," he said evenly. "First let us see who they are. Perhaps we can learn their secrets as well and then use such things against them."
Without a word, Rasnar turned away and stormed off into the darkness. Ivor followed him with his gaze. There would be trouble over this. Perhaps he could lure him out of the cathedral and across the square to the palace for a very special meal if things got too difficult. Even as the thought crossed his mind he decided that until this thing was settled it would be best to receive the holy bread from a hand other than the patriarch's.
Ivor looked back at Kalencka, who was still before him, his nasty peasant eyes staring at him.
"Get out of my sight," Ivor roared. "Go to their camp now. Tell them they are on my land and I demand an explanation. When you have mastered something of their language I want their leader brought to my presence for a meeting. I want information from you as well, and don't return until you've found something of interest for me. I am leaving my half brother Mikhail in command here and will take my border riders back to the city." As he spoke he pointed to a towering bearlike warrior standing to one side of the fire.
Ivor smiled and looked over at his brother. If something did go wrong, he thought craftily, Mikhail could take the burden. Besides, Rasnar would most likely return to Suzdal tonight, and it would not be wise to leave him alone in the city. More than one boyar had left his town only to return days later to find the gates locked to him.
"Now get out of my sight and do something, you stinking scum," Ivor roared.
Bowing repeatedly, Kalencka retreated from the wrath of his lord. Once out of the circle he finally straightened up and looked about.
"Well, this is the mouse leaping into the mouth of the fox," Kalencka mumbled to himself, "and the wolf stands by to watch his two meals dance."
Kalencka looked over
Returning to the flickering circle of light, Ivor settled down on his camp stool and looked about at the nervous stares that greeted him.
"Send for that damned bard of mine," Ivor snapped.
Grabbing hold of a wooden mug, Ivor leaned over and scooped out a tankard of stale beer from the small barrel byhis side. Draining the drink off, he scooped out another round and looked up to see the peasant he had sent for.
"Where in the name of Kesus have you been?" he roared.
The rotund peasant looked at him wide-eyed.
"Composing a new ballad in honor of my lord," he said nervously.
"Kalencka, I know damned well you were hiding. I saw you not with my household when we advanced. I grant you the scraps of my feasting table, and dammit, I expect payment of loyalty in return," Ivor roared.
"But my lord, I needed a vantage point to observe your heroic actions so I could record them later in the Chronicles."
Ivor looked at the man with a jaundiced eye.
Damned peasants, they were all alike. Lying, murderous scum, loud to complain, first to run away, and always ready to blame their betters for every ill. There were times he thought he or the Tugars should simply murder the entire lot so he wouldn't have to put up with their stench.
"You seem to be able to talk your way out of anything," Ivor replied coldly, "so I've decided you can be of some use to me rather than stealing from my table for nothing but badly worded verse in reply."
"Whatever you wish, my lord," Kalencka replied, bowing low so that his right hand swept the ground.
"Go to the camp of the blue ones."
Kalencka looked up at Boyar Ivor, his eyes growing wide with fear.
"But my lord," he said softly, "I am a ballad maker, a chronicler, not a warrior."
"That is why you are to go," Ivor retorted, the tone in his voice making it clear that any argument could have the most unpleasant results.
Ivor looked around at his men and then to Rasnar.
"There is no rush in these things," he said evenly. "First let us see who they are. Perhaps we can learn their secrets as well and then use such things against them."
Without a word, Rasnar turned away and stormed off into the darkness. Ivor followed him with his gaze. There would be trouble over this. Perhaps he could lure him out of the cathedral and across the square to the palace for a very special meal if things got too difficult. Even as the thought crossed his mind he decided that until this thing was settled it would be best to receive the holy bread from a hand other than the patriarch's.
Ivor looked back at Kalencka, who was still before him, his nasty peasant eyes staring at him.
"Get out of my sight," Ivor roared. "Go to their camp now. Tell them they are on my land and I demand an explanation. When you have mastered something of their language I want their leader brought to my presence for a meeting. I want information from you as well, and don't return until you've found something of interest for me. I am leaving my half brother Mikhail in command here and will take my border riders back to the city." As he spoke he pointed to a towering bearlike warrior standing to one side of the fire.
Ivor smiled and looked over at his brother. If something did go wrong, he thought craftily, Mikhail could take the burden. Besides, Rasnar would most likely return to Suzdal tonight, and it would not be wise to leave him alone in the city. More than one boyar had left his town only to return days later to find the gates locked to him.
"Now get out of my sight and do something, you stinking scum," Ivor roared.
Bowing repeatedly, Kalencka retreated from the wrath of his lord. Once out of the circle he finally straightened up and looked about.
"Well, this is the mouse leaping into the mouth of the fox," Kalencka mumbled to himself, "and the wolf stands by to watch his two meals dance."
Kalencka looked over
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