‘Sorry to have asked.’
‘That’s all right. I can appreciate why you’d be curious.’ Manfred turned toward the door. ‘And sometime I may just tell you. Not because you have any right to know, but because it would make Mother supremely unhappy if I did.’
With what Erik considered an evil smile, Manfred left the room. Erik sat back, waiting for the servants to bring his bath water. He had dozed off when they knocked. Sleepily he rose and opened the door, and a half-dozen servants entered, carrying buckets of steaming water and a large metal tub.
He allowed the two men who had carried the tub inside to remove his boots for him, while the others filled it. Sitting in the hot water made Erik feel as if every ache and pain was going to fade away. He lay back a moment, then suddenly sat bolt upright as one of the servants began to wash him.
‘Is anything wrong, m’lord?’
‘I’m not a lord. You can call me “Captain,” and I can bathe myself,’ said Erik, taking the washing cloth and soap from the man. ‘That will be all.’
‘Shall we lay out clothing before we go?’
‘Ah yes, that would be fine,’ said Erik, now fully awake. The other servants left while the one who had spoken selected clothing from the wardrobe. ‘Shall I fetch boots, Captain?’
‘I’ll try to clean them before you leave, sir.’ He was out of the door with them before Erik could object. Erik shrugged and started washing in earnest. He had rarely had the luxury of a hot bath, and as the water cooled, he found himself reviving. He knew that as soon as supper was over, unless the Prince demanded more meetings, he was going to turn in and sleep the sleep of the dead.
Then he reconsidered that image and decided he’d sleep lightly, even with the door barred. Erik had no idea of the time, but decided he didn’t want to be late for dinner with the Prince of Krondor. He dried himself off and inspected the clothing chosen for him by the servant. The man had laid out a pair of pale yellow leggings, a light blue tunic, and a stylish cloak of very light grey, almost white. Erik decided to leave aside the cloak, and donned the hose and tunic. Just as he was finishing, the servant opened the door and said, ‘Your boots. Captain.’
Erik was astonished. In a few minutes the man had managed to get all the blood and filth off, and return the leather to a passable shine. ‘Thank you,’ said Erik as he took the boots.
The servant said, ‘Shall I have the bathtub removed while you dine?’
‘Yes,’ said Erik as he donned his boots. The servant departed, and Erik ran his hand over his chin. He wished for a razor and some soap and supposed that had he asked for them, they would have been provided, but he hadn’t, so he decided some whiskers were preferable to keeping the Prince of Krondor waiting.
He went out into the hall and around the corner to where he had left the council room, and found a pair of guards standing at the door to that chamber. He asked directions to the dining hall and the guard saluted and said, ‘Follow me. Captain.’
He did so and the man led him through a series of passages, to what Erik expected was part of the original keep, or a series of rooms added soon after, for the dining hall was surprisingly intimate. There was a square table, with room for a dozen diners a side, but the walls were only a few feet behind each of them, so if too many people attempted to move at the same time, things could become quite tangled. Erik nodded to several of the nobles he had met at Krondor and was pointedly ignored by several others who were deep in private conversations. Owen was already there and indicated he should come and sit next to him.
Erik moved around the table and saw the three seats on the right next to Greylock were empty. Greylock said, ‘Take this one,’ indicating the seat on his left. He patted the seat on his right and said, ‘This is the Prince’s.’
Then Erik noticed every noble at the table was watching him and suddenly he felt embarrassed. Dukes and Earls, Barons and Squires, all were seated below him at the table. He knew that where one sat in relationship to the Prince had serious implications in matters of court intrigue, and he suddenly wished he had thought to take the chair opposite the Prince, at the farthest table on the other side of the room.
A few minutes later, the door behind them opened, and Erik turned to see Prince Patrick enter. He rose, as did the other nobles, and they all bowed their heads.
Then came Baron Manfred, their host, followed by his mother.
The Prince took his place at the center of the head table, and Manfred moved to his right hand. Mathilda moved to her chair, but when she saw Erik she said, ‘I will not sit at the same table as my son’s murderer!’