Roper looked down and saw that Helmec and Gray had both paused their eating to gaze upwards. They stared fixedly until the clouds shifted and the stars disappeared again behind their dark bulk. “I hope you’re confident about tomorrow, lord,” said Helmec, still looking up at the sky.
“Confident?”
“In yourself, lord. You didn’t get this far by accident. Trust yourself.”
“Thank you, Helmec,” said Roper, quietly.
As they spoke, Roper spotted Uvoren moving from fireside to fireside, clapping peers on the shoulder and patting their heads. He wore a snarl as he discussed the Sutherners and Roper observed how he energised the fires. He had a wake, which lifted the introspective silence a little as he passed. Then, to the Black Lord’s great surprise, he approached the hearth at which he, Helmec and Gray sat. He stopped where the light of the fire and the darkness merged and stared vacantly into the flames for a moment.
“Captain,” said Roper quietly.
“My lord,” responded he. Lord.
“Are you ready for tomorrow, sir?” enquired Gray. “We will need Marrow-Hunter at her best.”
“She will be, Lieutenant,” said Uvoren sternly. He and Gray had been extremely distant since the latter had replaced Uvoren’s childhood friend Asger as the Guard’s second-in-command. He ignored Helmec completely. “And you? Will you be ready?”
“I will, sir.”
Uvoren studied Gray. “I know you like to be prepared for death. You will need to be prepared for more than that. Tomorrow, you are not allowed to die before your blade is blunt and clotted with blood. Do you hear me, Lieutenant? Only when you are utterly spent do you have my permission to fall.”
At those words, Gray smiled into the fire. “Thank you, sir, but my death still waits for my wife’s permission. Until she grants it, I will do my best to survive.”
“And what about my permission?” asked Roper. “You do not have that.”
Gray inclined his head to Roper but said no more.
There was a pause, during which Uvoren regarded the Black Lord, that familiar curl on his lips. “You know what the difference is between you and me, Lord Roper? The difference is that I wasn’t foolish enough to let Vigtyr off his leash. Whatever you think you can give that man, you will never satisfy him. Sooner or later, he will be the end of you.”
“There are many differences between you and me, Captain,” said Roper. “Be gone. Other firesides need your company more than this one.”
Uvoren gave an ironic bow and turned away, Roper and Helmec watching him leave. Gray paid no attention, simply staring into the fire.
“When I was young,” said Gray, a moment later, “I always thought about death.” He brooded. “I was obsessed with it. When my peers were practising their battle-craft or hunting, I think I was preoccupied with the inevitability that this would all come to an end. Does it hurt? What happens afterwards? Is it better than life, or worse? How will I feel when I face it?” He was perfectly still as he spoke and Helmec and Roper listened closely. “It is the ultimate unknown. There was only one thing that I really feared about death: how I would respond to it. I used to dream about the moment of my dying, and in my dreams, before the final blow fell, I was always a coward. I would beg my enemy for quarter. Or run away like an animal.
“I wasn’t a bad swordsman. I appeared to grasp tactics easily, but when I was named a full legionary, I thought there had been a mistake. I was terrified of what would happen when I knew I was about to die. I must surely disgrace myself. My peers looked so comfortable and so at ease, and I knew I was a coward … That began to change in my first battle. My greatest friend from the haskoli, a lad my own age, was pierced by a spear in his chest and fell next to me. You know how that feels, my lord. You watched your father slain by an arrow and were compelled to ride after him into a great mass of the enemy. I can only assume you felt then what I felt as my friend Kolbeinn was felled beside me.
“I just remember rage … pure rage. I have never been so overwhelmed. I was utterly, utterly possessed. I cut the head off the Sutherner responsible, and then dragged my dying friend back through the ranks.” Gray fell quiet for a moment. Roper knew he did not need prompting and waited patiently for the story to resume. Helmec had finished his stew and put the bowl aside, listening as he stared into the flames. “He knew he was dying, and I didn’t tell him otherwise. Frothing blood was coming from the wound and from his mouth. There was nothing we could do. So I just knelt next to him and told him I was there and that he was dying with honour.” Gray made a face. “And my friend; Kolbeinn … he was calm. He knew he was dying and he didn’t care. He just looked at me and he managed a smile. He said that now he knew: when you reach death, you can accept it. He said it felt easy.” Gray took a deep breath and let it out, still staring at the fire but sitting up a little straighter now. “That memory has been my comfort and my strength for more than a hundred years. Kolbeinn was a hero, so perhaps he was terrified and just told me what I needed to know. In which case, his example inspires me. Or maybe, as I believe, he was telling the truth. And there is nothing to fear about death,
