Through the Darkness

Forthweg had been provinces of other kingdoms before. For the hundred years leading up to the Six Years’ War, both Algarve and Unkerlant had done their best to make the Forthwegians forget they’d ever been a kingdom. Both had failed. During the chaos after the war, Forthweg wasted no time regaining its freedom.

When Ealstan made a detailed suggestion about where the Algarvians could put their opinion and what they could do with it once it got there, Ethelhelm laughed, but not for long. “You want to be careful where you say that kind of thing, you know,” he remarked. “Some people would make you regret it.”

“You should talk,” Ealstan retorted. “The songs you sing, it’s a wonder Mezentio’s men haven’t found a deep, dark dungeon cell for you.”

“It’s no wonder at all,” the band leader answered. “I’ve paid off so bloody many of them, I’m probably supporting a couple of regiments in Unkerlant by myself.” He grimaced. “I have to stay rich. If I can’t keep paying the whoresons off, they’ll start listening to the words again.”

“Oh.” Ealstan didn’t know why he sounded startled. His father had paid off the Algarvians, too, to keep them from noticing Leofsig. “Well, by your books, you can keep on paying them for quite a while.”

“Good,” Ethelhelm said. “I intend to. I have to, as a matter of fact.” He made another horrible face. “And I’ll tell you something else, too--not everything they want from me is money.”

“Is that so?” Ealstan could tease Ethelhelm: “You have a couple of redheaded women fighting over who gets to make you her pet?”

“Powers above be praised, I’m spared that,” Ethelhelm answered with another laugh. “But I might enjoy myself if they were.” He and Ealstan both laughed this time, conspiratorially. Algarvian women had a reputation for looseness, just as Algarvian men had a name for corruption. What people said about Algarvian men turned out to be largely true, which made thinking about redheaded women more intriguing. But Ethelhelm sobered. “No, I won’t enjoy this, if I end up having to do it: they want the band to perform for Plegmund’s Brigade.”

“Oh,” Ealstan said again--this time a sound of pain and sympathy, not surprise. “What are you going to do?”

“Talk it over with the boys some more first,” the band leader replied. “It’s just what we want, right?--giving shows for a brigade full of traitors. But if it’s the only way we can stay out of trouble with the Algarvians, we may have to.”

At not quite eighteen, some things looked very clear to Ealstan. “If you do play, how are you any different from the fellows who carry sticks for King Mezentio?”

Ethelhelm’s lips tightened. “I wish you hadn’t asked it quite that way.” Now that the words were out of his mouth, Ealstan also wished he hadn’t asked it quite that way. He didn’t want to lose Ethelhelm as a client or as a friend. But he didn’t want to lose his respect for him, either. After a pause, the musician went on, “I don’t know what to tell you about that. There’s some truth to it. But if we don’t play for the Brigade, the Algarvians are liable to shut us up. Is that better?”

He meant it seriously. This time, Ealstan thought before he answered. “I don’t know,” he said at last. “I just don’t know. We have to make some compromises with the Algarvians if we want to live.”

“Isn’t that the sad and sorry truth?” the band leader agreed.

Ealstan waved around the flat. The wave encompassed thick carpets, fine furnishing, books, paintings, drums and viols and flutes. “The other thing you have to ask yourself is, how much is all this worth to you?”

Ethelhelm gave him an odd look. “I never thought I’d see my conscience sitting in a chair talking to me. What do you think I’ve been asking myself ever since the Algarvians came to me? It’s not an easy question.”

“Why not?” It was easy for Ealstan.

Now Ethelhelm did look exasperated. “Why not? I’ll tell you why not. Because I’ve worked a long, long time, and I’ve worked really hard all that time, to get where I am. And now I have to throw it away by making the redheads angry? That’s why it’s not easy.”

Ealstan hadn’t spent a long time working toward anything. The only thing he had that he couldn’t bear to give up was Vanai, and he’d already given up everything else for her. He got to his feet. “I think I’d better go.”

“Aye, I think maybe you’d better,” Ethelhelm replied. “I haven’t told them we would yet, you know. I just haven’t told them we wouldn’t, either.”

With a nod, Ealstan left. As usual, he noted the stairwell didn’t stink of cabbage or of anything worse. As much as all the fine furnishings in Ethel-helm’s flat, that reminded him of what the band leader had to lose.