Lora of Two Worlds

The moment Brendan stepped through the Odenheim gate he knew the storm and tempest of mother and sister lay waiting for him — and in passing, he unbuckled the waist-saber of a guard at the door.

”Lord Brendan — how come you relieving me of my...”

The Grey Wolf guards had sharp eyes, these. In private, the man they most despised was this same fourth lord — he wasn’t a finger’s worth of the young lady, the whole of him.

Morn stepped out and barred his way at a stride, face gone grave: ”Lord Brendan — we have our charge to keep. Strip a guard’s saber off him so lightly — if some break comes, who answers for it?”

Brendan tossed the saber back to Morn in a pet, the new-made officer’s contempt all over him: ”This liaison officer may have left the Household Guard’s camp — but I’m still the fourth lord of this house. You’re the house’s yard-guards, no more. What’s a borrowed blade to you?”

”This brigade captain may be a yard-guard — but for the present he takes his orders from the young lady alone, and advises the fourth lord not to cross the house rules.” Morn turned, hung the saber back on the guard’s waist, and said it sharp:

”The next man of ours relieved of his arms without cause — dealt with by military law!”

The fourth lord had no mind to wrestle with them. He slunk round to his room, took up his own sword, and went on toward his mother’s court.

This time there was no need to send for Grandmother — she sat already in his mother’s room, waiting. Before the three women of three generations, old and young, he knelt with the sword held high in both hands and bowed his head to confess:

”Grandmother — Mother — your Brendan did not heed Father’s word. He left the barracks and maneuvered himself a little post at court. Your Brendan once heard Lora tell Hugo next door: if good men will not serve, then the offices of state fill up with bad men.

Your Brendan wants only to be a good official, to lay up good deeds for the Odenheim name. But he has defied his father all the same — so let Mother take this blade and cut off her son’s head, and make the apology to Father with it!”

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Lora watched her silverest-tongued Brendan with her mouth hanging open.

All at once she remembered the day she’d first crossed over — Brendan had talked her into taking the blame before Father that day too, and had Father been one degree the muddler, he’d have slipped it past him clean.

And looking at Mother and Grandmother: the blade alone had set a chill in them; and then to hear him say he only wished to be a good official — would that not make the Odenheims the ones beheading a good official?

”Ah — put that thing away! The rear courts are all women — you’ve no business bringing your blades and bows back here. Your father will come round to your reasons as well; hasn’t he let Alvin and Roland out on their own roads already?

The barracks won’t miss one man more or less... Madam — you’re the one who should be putting in the good words for the fourth lord before the General.”

Grandmother doted on her grandsons — every last one of them her own life’s blood. The last time Brendan had been beaten she had known nothing of it; when she learned, she quarreled with the General, fined herself a whole day’s food, and only when the General came kneeling to beg did she consent to unlock the door of the family shrine.

The Countess was at her wits’ end; she looked to the daughter at her side as a drowning woman looks for a rope.

Lora could only speak: ”Brother — yes, I said those words. The Empire’s court does want more good officials in it. Your end isn’t wrong; it’s the crooked byroad you took to it.

Right or not, it’s wrong now. How Father will punish you I don’t know. But I hope you’ll stand by your own words and truly be a good official.

And if ever a man holds your crooked getting of the post over your head, to bend you to some dirty work — you bring it honestly to this family. We can help you. Once.”

She said it in helplessness, and no less. The warrant had come down; Brendan had already gone and taken up his post. Would a beating or a scolding mend it? And they could hardly kill him in earnest.

At his sister’s word, Brendan knew the business was over and done.

Wait till he’d gone to Augustburg, been seen of the King, taken his seat at the Lohenheim Liaison Office — would Father sever father from son over this, after all that?

He set the blade down, and beamed at his mother:

”Mother — your son is off at first light tomorrow, up to the capital to be seen of the King. I can’t see you to Augustburg myself; but once I’ve found my third brother there, I’ll have him arrange your coming after.”

”The post’s not even sat in yet, and the official airs are up already.” Lora gave a sniff of scorn.

Brendan rose, made his grand bow to Grandmother and Mother, and said it out ringing:

”Grandmother — Mother — your son is off to the capital to be a good official!”