Chapter 12. Honorable Men

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tharbad, October 21, 1347
Written by Duilin
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thurisind awoke with the sun, somewhat disoriented. Looking to his side he saw a pretty brown-haired girl. Through the cobwebs of his half-sleeping brain, he tried to recall her name. Well, no matter. He left a few silver pennies by the bed for the girl and dressed. She was well worth it, he thought. Not as beautiful, perhaps, as the women in Osgiliath, but pretty enough and great sport in bed. He wondered if his companion had found a girl for himself the night before – he had left him talking to a group of men. He hoped his friend hadn’t gotten himself into any trouble.

He thought back to Osgiliath. His friend could make trouble indeed. The two men had become fast friends during their service together in the army of Gondor, serving together in a small fort near the end of the Ash Mountains. Their term of service up, the two had decided to make their way to the capital, and see if they could make their fortunes there. Duilin had some kin in the city, and so, as it happened, had Thurisind. While Duilin’s kin were honest, hard-working folk of the people – his uncle was an innkeeper – Thurisind’s relations were of a higher kind. For he was distantly kin to none other than the Lord Vinitharya – that is to say, of Eldacar, only son of the King’s Heir of Gondor. Thurisind had presented himself to his kinsman, offering himself and his friend in service to his mighty cousin. Eldacar had taken a liking to his enormous cousin from the north, and to his friend. He remembered fondly his childhood in the north, and wished to learn of its present state. Eldacar, too, hoped to gather men around him he could trust, seeing the Dúnedain of Gondor murmuring against him. Thus, Duilin and Thurisind had fallen in with the personal retinue of the Heir’s son, being taken on as his private bodyguards. Ah, what a time those two years in Osgiliath had been. Favorites of the King’s heir! They had been free most of the time to roam the city as they would. But then, of course, Duilin had mucked it up.

While Thurisind came to know his kinsman and caroused about the city, Duilin had somehow become involved with a great, but mysterious, and almost certainly married, Dúnadan lady. It was unclear to Thurisind how they had met, and which had seduced the other, but before he knew it, he had taken up the job of acting as look-out and guard for his friend’s assignations. “Come now, Thurisind,” Duilin had said brightly, “you know I would do the same for you. All you need to do is make the signal if anyone approaches, and delay him as long as you can. I’ll make it up to you.”

One night, about a month into the affair, Thurisind, who followed his friend and his lady at a distance, began to suspect that another pair was also following. Once the lovers entered the spot of their tryst, one quickly departed, while the other remained. Thinking quickly, Thurisind feigned drunkenness, and stumbled towards the remaining man, hoping to gain information. “Friend,” he slurred. “Might I ask how to make the Star of the North Inn?” he named an inn in the city that visitors from his own land often used, “I seem to have lost my way.”

The other looked at him uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with it. Sir, if you don’t mind, I have a task which I am at, and I cannot be distracted.”

“My pardon, I hadn’t meant to disturb you,” Thurisind stumbled, slightly bumping the man. “And my pardon for that, as well,” he laughed drunkenly. “I hadn’t meant to disturb anyone,” he repeated, stumbling back towards the door of his friend’s lair.

The man’s response had been enough to suggest that he was, in fact, an agent of the woman’s husband. Thurisind made the agreed-upon signal, and sat down upon the step before the door, pretending to pass out. Soon he heard footsteps approaching, and then, voices. The other man had returned, but he had brought with him others. “Sir, they went into that building, and have been up there since,” said the man Thurisind had spoken to.

“Outrageous!” bellowed another voice. “If she believes she can cuckold me, the King’s grand-nephew, with no consequences, then she is sorely mistaken.”

Thurisind opened his eyes to take a look. The voice was familiar to him, as was the man – he was tall, nearly as tall as Thurisind himself, but slender, with long, dark hair of the sort typically worn by the aristocracy of Gondor. It was Castamir, who was, indeed, grand-nephew to the king, and, from all Thurisind’s brief encounters of him, an arrogant ass. The men approached, and Thurisind continued to feign unconsciousness.

“What is this?” said Castamir. “Who is this oaf?”

“Just some drunken Northman,” replied the man Thurisind had spoken to. “He was looking for some inn, and spoke to me, but I sent him away, and I guess he passed out on the stair here. Should we wake him?”

There was a pause. Thurisind wished to open his eye to see what was going on, but thought it best to feign unconsciousness for as long as he could. Finally, Castamir spoke. “Wait, I know this man! He is no ordinary drunk Northmen – this man is in service of my cousin. If I remember rightly, he is some sort of kin to my cousin’s northern whore of a mother.”

Now Thurisind roared awake. He would have to reveal himself at some point, and given that the game was basically up, this was as good a time as any. Thurisind hoped that his friend had heard the signal, and was on his way. There were half a dozen men surrounding him. “The Lady Vidumavi was no whore. She was a great lady of my people, and my own kinswoman.”

“And I suppose your beloved kinsman has you act as pimp, to bring him the wives of other men to befoul, and then to act as a murderer, to kill their husbands when they seek revenge.”

Thurisind laughed. “You think your wife is cuckolding you with Eldacar? Absurd. He is devoted to his wife and family. I have told no lies to your men today,” he lied. “I have had too much to drink and gotten lost in this part of the city, which I know poorly. I know nothing of your wife, and my presence here must be a coincidence – if there is any truth to your story at all.” Where was Duilin? He couldn’t still be in flagrante with the lady, could he?

“Insolent knave! If what you say is true, then you can have no objection to our passing by. For I tell you that my wife is inside, and you have no right to refuse me passage.”

So it came to it. There was still no sign of Duilin. Now he must either let them pass or draw his sword, unless he could devise another artifice. His hand was moving to his scabbard when there was a noise above. A half-clad pair – Duilin and his lady, had moved onto the balcony. Seeing her husband below, Castamir’s wife fled back inside. Castamir, seeing her, roared in anger at Duilin, “You knave! Come down here and face me.”

“I think IÂ’d rather not.” Grabbing his clothing under his arm, he clambered up to the roof, then, running, leapt to the roof of the neighboring building. Some of CastamirÂ’s men ran into the house, while others pursued Duilin from the streets below. Thurisind, with his hand still on his sword, turned to the angry lord of Gondor. “My lord, you will not mind, I trust, if I try to make my way from here. I should not like to disturb any marital conversations.”

Castamir looked at him in disbelief. “You knave. We shall have words in the future.” He pushed past Thurisind to go deal with his wayward wife.

Thurisind, relieved to have, at least for the moment, avoided a fight with the powerful nobleman, made his way back to Duilin’s uncle’s inn, the Grey Cat. It was late, and the common room was nearly empty. An hour later, Duilin arrived. “I think I’ve lost them,” he laughed. “That was a bit of fun, eh, my friend? I wasn’t expecting it, I must say – she told me her husband was down in Pelargir tonight. I mostly had you come along to annoy you.”

“You find it fun to make an enemy of one of the most powerful men in the kingdom?” Thurisind decided to ignore the insult to himself.

Duilin looked back at his friend. “Well, at the time it was enjoyable. That girl is insatiable, I have to say. And lovely, too. Can you believe she’s the same age as my grandmother? These Dúnedain!” But seeing the warning in his friend’s eyes, he paused. “Why are you looking at me like that? What’s that about the most powerful man in the kingdom?”

“Don’t you know whose wife she is?”

“What? No. Whose?”

“The Lord Castamir’s, you lecherous fool! And he knows who I am, and will easily discover who you are as well.”

As the information sunk in, Duilin spoke again. “Well, this has not turned out nearly so well as I’d hoped. What do we do now? Can Eldacar protect us?”

“That is most doubtful. He has little enough interest in drawing attention to his Northern kin, and we have genuinely wronged a kinsman of his. After this foolishness, I doubt he’d want to protect us.”

Duilin, now completely sober, stood up. “There’s no helping it, then. We must get out of Gondor.”

“Out of Gondor? That’s madness. Can’t we go off to Anor until the heat’s worn off?”

“You think we would be safe in Minas Anor? That Castamir has no eyes there? For all we know, he is going to go to the King with this! Gondor is not safe for us, at least not for the moment. We must go, and now.”

Duilin rushed off towards the quarters above the inn where his uncle stayed with his family. A few minutes later he returned with his uncle, squinting sleepily at the two men. “Uncle. We need horses, now. We’ve run into a spot of trouble and must leave Gondor for a while.”

“Horses? Leaving Gondor? What on Arda are you talking about? Where are you going? And you know I only have a few horses – sparing two would be hard on me, especially if I’ve no idea when you’re returning.”

“We head for Tharbad,” Duilin said. “When we arrive in Cardolan, we’ll find someone to send you your horses back.”

Within an hour, they’d left Osgiliath behind them, riding hard up the road through Anórien towards Calenardhon. And now they had finally arrived in Tharbad. Thurisind quietly left his room, leaving the girl to sleep. Entering the common room of the Inn, he wondered what Arnor would have in store – and what trouble his companion would lead him into.

***

Duilin awoke late in the morning. He found last night’s girl had already left – presumably she had to go about her work for the day. Duilin yawned and stretched, and wiped the sleep from his eyes, trying to get his bearings. After dressing, he made his way down to the common room. As he waited for attention from the innkeeper for his breakfast, Thurisind came in – it seemed his companion had already been up and about for some hours.

Sitting down, Thurisind greeted his friend. “Ha, Duilin, finally awake I see. I’ve been using the morning hours to investigate this city and see what of interest might present itself.”

“And did you discover anything? I have already learned much from my conversation last night.”

“I have also learned much. Tharbad seems promising. There is much private work to be had, I think – the nobles and merchants here are much concerned about theft, and would like to hire men to protect their wealth. And there is also work of more illicit kind, should we be so inclined.”

“No, Thurisind, I don’t think that Tharbad is wise. Staying here too long risks getting word to Castamir. And I imagine that much work would involve us in going over relatively frequently to Gondor’s half of the city. I want to be as far from the reach of that arrogant ass as possible.”

“Yes, I was afraid you’d say that. What have you learned?”

Duilin related his conversation with the soldiers last night, but for some reason neglected to mention Angmar at all. Something about the place made him wish not to think about it. “I’ll say that of the other kingdoms, I don’t much like the sound of Arthedain. It sounds like the army of Gondor all over again, but worse. I think those years in Osgiliath have spoiled me for proper garrison duty.”

“Aye, me as well,” Thurisind said, after a moment’s thought. “But Rhudaur sounds worse – dangerous, chaotic, and, most importantly, with very little cash on hand. I’ve heard, though, that there might be other opportunities, if we go along the road to the town of Bree, at the crossroads with the great East Road. That town, they say, is full of all sorts, and work of various kinds can be found there.”

“Bree is on the way to Norbury, Arthedain’s city, as well,” said Duilin.

“Shall, we, then, make our way there?”

“It seems the best option. I’d like to avoid Arthedain’s army if we can, but penniless hill country full of barbaric hill men seems like a last resort. We should see what Bree has to offer before we give ourselves over to King Malvegil.”

“I agree entirely. But first we have to figure out how to send your uncle back his horses, don’t we?”

Duilin groaned. “How on earth are we going to find someone we trust to get our horses back to Gondor, in a city where we don’t know anybody?”

“You’re the one who promised your uncle. I’ve no idea. I thought you might have some family connection here – they all look just like you.”

Duilin looked irritatedly at his friend. “Why on earth should I have family connections in Tharbad? I grew up in Pelargir – it’s hundreds of miles from here! This is quite a spot. Maybe we can ask the innkeeper.”

“He’d cheat us as soon as help us – recommend some corrupt relation of his who’ll steal them as soon as we look the other way.”

“Well, I don’t see you having any ideas.”

“Hmm…” Thurisind thought for a moment. “I’ve a thought. Would your uncle be able to recognize his horses?”

“I think so, yes.”

“Is there any sort of proof of ownership back in Osgiliath?”

“Yes, there’s deeds of some sort, and descriptions.”

“Then here’s what we do. We find some travellers who are going to Osgiliath and looking for horses. We sell them the horses, and also recommend them an inn in Osgiliath.”

“My uncle’s.”

“Yes, of course. We provide them with a sealed letter of introduction to your uncle, so that he will give them the best rate, and so forth.”

“And the letter will tell them that these are his horses, and that we are returning them, as promised, but that the men bringing them aren’t aware of this. Then he can threaten to sic the police on them as horse thieves, and get the horses back.”

“That, my friend, is a brilliant plan. We are going to get men to pay us to return my uncle’s horses to him. I am glad I will not have to break my promise to my uncle.”

“Of course not, Duilin, we are honorable men,” he laughed. “Now let’s go find ourselves some marks.”