“I’m too fat, Stig. And I won’t be invited to the banquet anyway.”
Erling Vidkunss?n stood with his foot up on the bench as his son attached his gilded spur; Erling seemed to want to keep his servants away as much as possible that day. The knight gave an oddly cross laugh.
“I suppose it wouldn’t do any harm if it looked as if Simon Darre had spared nothing in the aid of his brother-in-law, coming right in from the road with his bold and pleasing words. He has a finely tailored tongue, this former kinsman of ours, Stig. There’s only one thing I fear—that he won’t know when to stop.”
Simon’s face was dark red, but he didn’t reply. In everything that Erling had said to him since the day before, he had noticed this scornful mocking, as well as a strangely reluctant kindness, and a firm will to see this matter through to the end, now that he had taken it on.
Then they set off north from Mandvik: Sir Erling, his son, and Stig, along with ten handsomely outfitted and well-armed men. Simon, with his one servant, thought that he should have had the sense to arrive better attired and with a more impressive entourage. Simon Darre of Formo shouldn’t have to ride with his former kinsmen like some smallholder who had sought their support in his helpless position. But he was so weary and broken by what he had done the day before that he now felt almost indifferent to whatever outcome this journey might bring.
Simon had always claimed that he put no faith in the ugly rumors about King Magnus. He was not so saintly a man that he couldn’t stand some vulgar jesting among grown men. But when people put their heads together, muttering and shuddering over dark and secret sins, Simon would grow uneasy. And he thought it unseemly to listen to or believe such things about the king, when he was a member of his retinue.
Yet he was surprised when he stood before the young sovereign. He hadn’t seen Magnus Eirikss?n since the king was a child, but he had expected there would be something womanish, weak, or unhealthy about him. But the king was one of the most handsome young men Simon had ever set eyes on—and he had a manly and regal bearing, in spite of his youth and slender build.
He wore a surcoat patterned in light blue and green, ankle-length and voluminous, cinched around his slim waist with a gilded belt. He carried his tall, slender body with complete grace beneath the heavy garment. King Magnus had straight, blond hair framing his handsomely shaped head, although the ends of his locks had been artfully curled so they billowed around the staunch, wide column of his neck. The features of his face were delicate and charming, his complexion fresh, with red cheeks and a faint golden tinge from the sun; he had clear eyes and an open expression. He greeted his men with a polite bearing and pleasant courtesy. Then he placed his hand on Erling Vidkunss?n’s sleeve and led him several steps away from the others, as he thanked him for coming.
They talked for a moment, and Sir Erling mentioned that he had a particular request to make of the king’s mercy and good will. Then the royal servants set a chair for the knight before the king’s throne, showed the other three men to seats somewhat farther away in the hall, and left the room.
Without even thinking, Simon had assumed the bearing and demeanor he had learned in his youth. He had relented and agreed to borrow from Stig a brown silk garment so that his attire was no different from what the other men wore. But he sat there feeling as if he were in a dream. He was and yet he was not the same man as that young Simon Darre, the alert and courtly son of a knight who had carried towels and candles for King Haakon in the Oslo castle an endless number of winters ago. He was and was not Simon the owner of Formo who had lived a free and merry life in the valley for all these years—largely without sorrows, although he had always known that within him resided that smoldering ember; but he turned his thoughts away from this. A stifled, ominous sense of revolt rose up inside the man—he had never willfully sinned or caused any trouble that he knew of, but fate had fanned the blaze, and he had to struggle to keep his composure while he was being roasted over a slow fire.
He rose to his feet along with all the others; King Magnus had stood up.
“Dear kinsmen,” he said in his young, fresh voice. “Here is how I view this matter. The prince is my brother, but we have never attempted to share a royal retinue—the same men cannot serve us both. Nor does it sound as if this was Erlend’s intention, although for a while he might continue as sheriff under my rule, even after becoming one of Haakon’s retainers. But those of my men who would rather join my brother Haakon will be released from my service and be permitted to try their fortune at his court. Who they might be—that’s what I intend to find out from Erlend’s lips.”
“Then, my Lord King,” said Erling, “you must try to reach agreement with Erlend Nikulauss?n regarding this matter. You must keep the promise of safe conduct which you have made, and grant your kinsman an interview.”
“Yes, he is my kinsman and yours, and Sir Ivar persuaded me to promise him safe conduct. But he did not keep his promise to me, nor did he remember our kinship.” King Magnus gave a small laugh and then placed his hand on Erling’s arm once more. “Dear friend, my kinsmen seem to live by the saying we have here in Norway: that a kinsman is the worst enemy of his kin. I am quite willing to show mercy to my kinsman, Erlend of Husaby, for the sake of God and Our Lady and my betrothed; I will grant him his life and property and lift the sentence of banishment if he will be reconciled with me; or I will allow him proper time to leave my kingdoms if he wishes to join his new lord, Prince Haakon. This same mercy I will show to any man who has conspired with him—but I want to know which of my men residing in this country have served their lord falsely. What do you have to say, Simon Andress?n? I know that your father was my grandfather’s faithful supporter, and that you yourself served King Haakon with honor. Do you think I have the right to investigate this matter?”
“I think, my Lord King . . .” Simon stepped forward and bowed again, “that as long as Your Grace rules in accordance with the laws and customs of the land, with benevolence, then you will never find out who these men might be who tried to resort to lawlessness and treason. For as soon as the people see that Your Grace intends to uphold the laws and traditions established by your ancestors, then surely no man in this kingdom would think of breaking the peace. Instead, they will hold their tongues and acknowledge what for a time it may have been difficult to believe—that you, my Lord, in spite of your youth, can rule two kingdoms with wisdom and power.”
“That is so, Your Majesty,” added Erling Vidkunss?n. “No man in this country would think of refusing you allegiance over something which you lawfully command.”
“No? Then you think that Erlend may not have incited betrayal and high treason—if we look closer at the case?”
For a moment Sir Erling seemed at a loss for a reply, when Simon spoke.
“You, my Lord, are our king—and every man expects that you will counter lawlessness with law. But if you pursue the path that Erlend Nikulauss?n has embarked upon, then men might step forward to state their names, which you are now pressing so hard to discover, or other men might begin to wonder about the true nature of this case—for it will be much discussed if Your Grace proceeds as you have warned, against a man as well-known and highborn as Erlend Nikulauss?n.”
“What do you mean by that, Simon Andress?n?” said the king sharply, and his face turned crimson.