Chapter Eight
“Igive youmy word, my lord, all was peaceful before Sir Althalos intervened.” Gaius swallowed the last mouthful of ale and carefully positioned his empty tanker on an upturned haybale.
The two men had retreated to the lofty haybarn to talk in private, Otto first making sure the stableboys would keep a distant look out. He didn’t fully trust anyone with this situation, and that included his father’s old friend. But he needed to hear both sides of the story, and the experienced knight had once been something of a mentor to him.
“Tell me what happened.” Otto sat back on a small wooden chair and folded his arms. The air was sweet with the smell of hay and a shaft of sunlight fell across his face. If he closed his eyes, he could remember simpler times, happier times. But the band of tension across his chest was too tight to be dispelled by nostalgia.
“We were training, as usual,” Gaius spoke quietly. “Nothing was amiss.” He shrugged. “Not that I could see anyway. My eyes though, are not as young as they used to be.”
“Your eyes are perfectly fine,” Otto said sharply. “It is your account of the morning that I want.”
Gaius inclined his graying head. He was a tall man, not yet shrunk with age, though his shoulders were not as broad as they had been in Otto’s youth. He could still wield a swordwith venom, and Otto would not hesitate to ride out to battle alongside him.
“The young squires were jousting,” he continued. “Yesterday’s tournament was fresh in their minds. While two of them rode against each other, the rest stood near the tent to watch.”
“And?”
Gaius shrugged. “They must have grown rowdy. Said things they did not mean.” He avoided Otto’s gaze.
“Such as?” he prompted.
“When Sir Althalos arrived, he claimed that two of them were starting a rebellion against you.” Gaius delivered the news calmly. “He had his men strike them down and ordered them to leave the castle immediately. Said they were lucky not to be strung up as traitors.”
Otto’s fingers drummed against his thighs. “I oversaw their training personally,” he mused. “Until today.”
“They were loyal to Darkmoor,” Gaius spoke up. “At least, that is what we all thought.”
“Could Sir Althalos have been mistaken?” Otto asked the question which was at the forefront of his mind.
Gaius’s hesitation spoke volumes. “In truth, I was not standing close enough to hear what was said.”
“Was anyone?”
“None but the other young squires.”
Otto scuffed his boot against the wooden floor in frustration and dust motes flew around them. “Then it is their word against Sir Althalos’s. And none would dare speak against him.”
Gaius pursed his lips in agreement. “It is a sorry situation, my lord.”
The rhythmic sound of his horses chomping hay in the nearby stables helped to channel Otto’s thoughts.
“If there was a rebellion brewing, Sir Althalos did well to dispel it,” he said, watching Gaius closely for a reaction.
Gaius’s stillness proved he knew he was being observed. “Indeed, my lord.”
“But you do not believe it?”
The old knight looked at first surprised, then resigned. “All I know is that the men are unfailingly loyal to you.”
“All of them?” Otto demanded.
Gaius inclined his head.
“Come now, Gaius. You and I have marched alongside each other more times than I can count. No army is unfailingly loyal.” Otto fought an impulse to spring up from his chair.
The open window let in a stream of sunlight which fell on Gaius like a halo. He leaned towards Otto and spoke in a whisper.
“You are a great leader, and your army is well-fed.” He paused and fixed his eyes on the dusty floor. “There is but one thing that causes unrest amongst them.”
