Page 17 of The Maiden

Thal smiled at his son. “She uses her brain where we men use our backs. She has been the leader since her husband was killed. Brita already hates the Irials, me and my issue in particular, and it would not do to further enrage her. You are going to have a difficult enough time with the people who support Geralt. Cannot you reconsider and marry Cilean? Or someone else perhaps? Jura is—”

“The one I want,” Rowan said flatly, his jaw set rigid.

Thal gave a deep sigh. “There is a way.”

“I will take it.”

“She might lose. You might lose both Jura and Cilean.”

“If it is a fight, I will meet the challenge.”

“It will not be your fight but Jura’s,” Thal said, then began to explain. “Lanconian women have always been strong. They protect their men’s backs in battle. They protect themselves when the men are away. It has always been good to have a strong wife, and at one time a man could choose a wife through an Honorium.”

“Which is?” Rowan asked.

“It’s rather like your English tournament, only the women are the participants.”

“The women joust?” Rowan asked, incredulous.

“No, they have contests of skill, shooting, javelin tossing, running, leaping a bar, wrestling, there are many contests. The winner wins the man who has called the Honorium.”

Before Rowan could speak, Thal took his son’s hand. “An invitation must go out to all the tribes when the king is involved. Jura is young and has never been in a battle. You do not know how she will react in a contest. She could very well lose.” He paused. “As could Cilean.”

“It is a chance I will have to take.”

“You do not understand. Most of our guardswomen are beautiful, but the other tribes, to show their contempt for the Irial king, will send women who are beasts.” Thal’s lip curled. “You have never seen an Ulten woman. They are filthy creatures who are sly and dishonest. They will steal your hair while you sleep if they can find a buyer. And Brocain will send someone hideous, no doubt. I have oxen smaller and better looking than Zerna women. Think what you are doing, boy, and take Cilean. She is beautiful and—”

“Would you have dared an Honorium to win my mother?”

“Yes,” Thal said softly. “I would have dared anything when I was young and my blood was boiling at the sight of her.”

“My blood boils for Jura,” Rowan answered firmly. “Call the Honorium.”

Thal nodded. “It will be done, but stay away from her. Let no one know of your intention to win her. You do not know what anger you will stir up if you slight Brita’s son. I will say the Honorium is to show your intention of being fair to all the tribes. All the tribes will have a chance to put a queen on the throne. Now, you must go. Send Siomun to me so that I may announce the Honorium.”

“I thought perhaps you would like to see your daughter and your grandson.”

Thal’s eyes widened. “Lora? The infant girl I left behind? She is with you?”

“Yes, and she brought her son Phillip. He’s a clever child.”

“Not as clever as you were as a child, I’ll wager,” Thal said, smiling. “Yes, do send them in. I just pray Lora wants no unsuitable man.”

Rowan smiled. “I don’t think so, although she seems somewhat taken with Xante.”

Thal laughed until he began to cough. “That ol’ war horse? Ah, that would be a good match. He has never been married and it would take a woman of great fire to melt his old heart.”

“Lora can do it if anyone can.” Rowan rose, then on impulse lifted his father’s hand and kissed it. “I regret…I regret that—”

“No!” Thal said sharply. “No regrets. You are what I prayed every night you would be: you are of no tribe. You are a Lanconian king who has loyalty to no particular tribe. You can unite the country. I just hope the wife by your side—No, no regrets. Send my daughter to me, and the boy.”

“Yes, my father,” Rowan said, and started to leave the room.

“Son,” Thal called, “get Siomun to give you some proper clothes so you won’t look like an Englishman.”

Rowan nodded and left the room.

Outside Thal’s room, Rowan leaned against the dark stone wall and closed his eyes, feeling the enormity of the burden of faith his father was placing on him. He had always thought he was to be king of a single country, but now he found he was to unite six tribes who hated each other, six tribes who stole from each other, killed each other without guilt. He took a moment to pray for guidance from God. He would do the best he could and rely on God for help. And Jura, he thought, opening his eyes. Jura would be there to help him too. He made his way through the dark corridor and stopped when he heard Lora’s voice raised in anger, followed by Xante’s deep chuckle.