Next the remaining lords were brought before the throne. They paid homage respectfully, but remained grave and stolid. “My lords, I am of two minds about you,” said the King. “You had it within your power to turn Ameronis aside before he carried out his scheme, and you did not. Yet, unlike Lupollen, you saw clearly enough who to serve once the issue was forced.
“Therefore, Lords Edfrith, Gorloic, Relkin, and Denellon, I do hereby condemn your disloyalty. But I stand ready to call you friends again if you will swear fealty once more to the throne.”
The lords went down on one knee and swore before all the assembly an oath of loyalty to their monarch. When they had finished, they took their places with the rest.
“As for the others,” continued the King, “Nimrood, the High Priest, and their foul flock-their punishment has been delivered by the Most High, the final judge of all; and let no man say they received more than their due.” The pronouncement brought a murmur from all gathered there.
“Now then,” said Quentin, “bring forth my new friends that I may reward them.” The trumpeter sounded his call again, and the onlookers craned their necks to see a small boy, not much older than Prince Gerin, approach the throne timidly, followed by Pym the tinker and Tip, his dog. Quentin beckoned to the youngster’s parents who hung back meekly in the ranks. “Come closer, good people.” The farmer and his wife crept forward shyly and came to kneel beside their son and the tinker.
“Rise, my friends,” said the King. “For you are my friends-as true as any who have ever served the Dragon King’s throne.
“Renny, your young heart yearns for knighthood, but you have already shown yourself as brave as any knight in the realm, though you possess neither horse nor armor. Is it still your wish to be a knight?”
“Yes, Sire,” came the small voice in reply. “More than anything.”
“Then so be it. On this day your name shall be placed on the roll of the King’s knights. When you come of age, you will enter into the knighthood in service to the realm.” Quentin paused. “But a knight must learn to ride, and he must have much skill at arms. Therefore, you may keep the pony Tarky which you found and tried to return; keep him until such time as you are able to handle a charger from the King’s stables. Then you shall choose a mount of your own. What do you say to that, Renny?”
Words escaped the boy, but the light in his eyes said all.
“My son has asked that you be allowed to take instruction with him under the master-at-arms of Askelon Castle. A knight of the King, even a knight in training, must be housed and fed in a manner worthy of his master. So, Sir Renny, the crown will endow you with an annual stipend which your parents will use for you as they deem fit.”
The joy which shone on the faces of the three could not be contained, and they bowed their thanks again and again as they returned to their places in the crowd.
“And you, good tinker,” said the King. Pym folded his hands over his knee and gazed upward expectantly. “You found the Shining One and kept it safely hidden away, returning for it when you knew your King’s need. Doubtless you would have delivered it into my hand had you not been prevented.”
“Yes, Sire, it is a very fact, it is,” replied Pym.
“And it has reached my ears that you have long desired a horse and wagon to take your wares from town to village on your route.” At the tinker’s puzzled expression, Quentin asked, “Is this not true?”
“Oh, yes, Yer Highness. More than ye know… but-”
“Yes? Was there something else?”
“The sharping stone, Yer Majesty, Sire. We’uns had in mind a sharping stone on a treadle-foot fer sharping knives and shears and such like.”
“Of course, the sharpening stone! Such an oversight! Yes, you shall have the finest sharpening stone as can be found in all Mensandor. And Castle Askelon shall be your first stop whenever you pass this way.”
Pym clapped his hands at his good fortune, and Tip barked her master’s happiness. The two withdrew to the laughter and high acclaim of those gathered in the great hall.
“Lastly,” said Quentin when silence again reclaimed the hall, “I would reward my old friends. Come forward, Toli, Theido, and Ronsard.” He rose and descended from the dais to meet them at the foot of the throne. “No, do not kneel to me, brave sirs. Brothers do not kneel to one another, for your friendship has proven itself of highest mettle, stronger and more true than are the ties of birth and blood.
“How else can I reward your steadfastness and courage? What could I give you that you do not already have? Lands, position, title? And yet you stood ready to give of these things, and even life itself, for a friend-the more when that friend faltered. You did not abandon me, but acted for me with wisdom and courage, each one of you, in your actions, declaring yourself more noble than Kings.
“So I give you these tokens of my esteem and gratitude.” Quentin beckoned to a page who came forward bearing a board covered with a runner of blue velvet on which rested three golden dragon broaches just like his own. The King took the first one from the board and fastened it at Theido’s shoulder, saying, “Theido, whose counsel is ever wise and good.”
He took up the next, affixed it to Ronsard’s cloak-“And Ronsard, whose dauntless courage is matched only by the strength of his arm…”
Quentin lifted the remaining broach and placed it on Toli’s cloak-“And Toli, whose love and loyalty hold firm even unto death. From this day forth you are Princes of the realm.” After a pause Quentin added, “Toli, you I would reward further by freeing you from your oath of service to me. Today and henceforth you are no longer servant.”
Quentin turned to the assemblage and presented the three with a sweep of his arm. “Behold my royal friends,” he said. “Let all men pay each one the courtesy and respect due a King.”
At once the whole assembly made a deep bow and then affirmed the King’s reward with loud shouts of acclamation that rang to the vault of the great hall and throughout the corridors and galleries of Askelon Castle.
Quentin mounted to his throne again and proclaimed, “This day will be a day of celebration throughout all Mensandor. Let there be feasting and music and entertainments for everyone!” The cheers which followed this address were drowned in the blare of the trumpets which sounded their clarion call throughout the castle from the high battlements to the town and the countryside beyond. “The celebration has begun!” the trumpets said. “Come and share in the rejoicing!”
And the people who heard that happy sound left their work, put on their finest clothes, and started for the castle to join in the high merriment and festivities.
It was nearing dusk-the red-gold disc of the sun was lowering in the sky away westward over Gerfallon’s broad back-before Quentin found an opportunity to slip away alone. Blazer was saddled and waiting for him and bore him quickly through the deserted streets of Askelon and out onto the plain.
Quentin found the shaded bower without any trouble; he had been there before with Durwin and remembered the bank overlooking the forest pool as a place where the hermit had loved to come and idle away the hours on a summer’s day. The grave mound was fresh and neatly overlaid with stones-a simple grave such as the hermit would have wanted-and already tender green shoots of new grass could be seen poking up between the rocks.
The King stood for a long time gazing reflectively at the grave, remembering the life he had known with the Holy Hermit of Pelgrin, as the simple folk called him still. That temporal life had now ended, but another had begun, and Quentin knew that he would see his friend again, that they would be together in a place without separation or the painful intrusion of death, and he was content to wait until that time.