insult my honor, Vercingetorix?”
“I only meant that some of us will enter later and others sooner than they might wish or expect,” Vercingetorix said in a false tone of sweetness.
“Is that a threat, Arverne?”
“Do you feel threatened, Eduen?” Vercingetorix asked with the same mocking sweetness, glaring at him menacingly. Viridwx might be heavier and taller by half a hand, but Vercingetorix had given as good as he had gotten in their previous bouts, and was eager to take him on again.
“Enough!” shouted Gwyndo.
“Perhaps the son of Keltill has just wandered too deep into his dreams to notice that we are now learning the virtues of the man of knowledge, not the arts of combat,” said another Eduen, to a round of laughter at Vercingetorix’s expense.
This was Litivak, Vercingetorix’s size and build, but dark-haired and, like Viridwx, both his elder and the son of an Eduen noble. But where Viridwx was dim, Litivak was bright, and where Viridwx was forthrightly hostile to him and all things Arverne, Litivak’s barbs were far more finely pointed, often as not delivered with a mirthful grin.
“Must the man of knowledge listen quietly and grind his teeth to stubs while the honor of his father is insulted?”
“I heard no insult to your father’s honor,” Litivak replied mildly.
“Perhaps I was mistaken,” said Vercingetorix, turning his gaze back on Viridwx. “Viridwx need merely say that Keltill was a man of honor and a hero and I shall be happy to apologize for my error and hail him as my brother.”
Litivak groaned.
And then there was a long moment of tense silence as Viridwx sat there befuddled by the trap Vercingetorix had set for him.
Guttuatr might command that Vercingetorix not venture into the world outside the forest, but he learned of events there from those who came and went.
Among the Arverni, there were those who found it expedient to support Gobanit, and according to these men, Keltill had been justly condemned by the druids for defying the will of the gods. But to those who were eager to do battle with not only the Teutons and the legions of Caesar but the Edui as well, Keltill was a hero.
Most of the other tribes accepted that Keltill had offended the gods, but, thanks to the depredations of Caesar, more and more had come to agree that uniting long enough to drive off the Romans was becoming a necessity. Only the Edui, waxing richer, stronger, and by their lights “more civilized,” thanks to their cooperation with the Romans, were united in their approval of things as they were now.
And since the druids mingled students from all of the tribes in their schools, the world inside this forest mirrored the world outside. Except here the memory of Keltill had a living heir and champion. It might be a petty game, but Vercingetorix had no other worth playing. Viridwx might not be very clever, but he was clever enough to realize that whatever he did now would be wrong.
If he acknowledged Keltill as a man of honor and a hero, he might be hailed by those who believed it, but he would be scorned by his fellow Edui as a traitor speaking out of cowardice. But if he did not, the Arverne students would be given a fine excuse to come to blows with the Edui, and Vercingetorix’s esteem would be raised in their eyes no matter who won the fight.
But Gwyndo saw Vercingetorix’s intent and spoke before Viridwx was forced to. “Observe what your words are about to kindle in the name of your father’s honor, Vercingetorix, and then tell us you have nothing more to learn of the wisdom of the man of knowledge.”
“Must the man of knowledge be without honor?” Vercingetorix countered angrily.
“Would the father whose honor you seek to defend be proud of a son who sowed strife among the tribes of Gaul to do so?”
To that Vercingetorix had no reply, for he could not deny that Gwyndo had spoken truth, and a truth which shamed him.
“Well spoken, Gwyndo,” he was forced to mutter
“I only meant that some of us will enter later and others sooner than they might wish or expect,” Vercingetorix said in a false tone of sweetness.
“Is that a threat, Arverne?”
“Do you feel threatened, Eduen?” Vercingetorix asked with the same mocking sweetness, glaring at him menacingly. Viridwx might be heavier and taller by half a hand, but Vercingetorix had given as good as he had gotten in their previous bouts, and was eager to take him on again.
“Enough!” shouted Gwyndo.
“Perhaps the son of Keltill has just wandered too deep into his dreams to notice that we are now learning the virtues of the man of knowledge, not the arts of combat,” said another Eduen, to a round of laughter at Vercingetorix’s expense.
This was Litivak, Vercingetorix’s size and build, but dark-haired and, like Viridwx, both his elder and the son of an Eduen noble. But where Viridwx was dim, Litivak was bright, and where Viridwx was forthrightly hostile to him and all things Arverne, Litivak’s barbs were far more finely pointed, often as not delivered with a mirthful grin.
“Must the man of knowledge listen quietly and grind his teeth to stubs while the honor of his father is insulted?”
“I heard no insult to your father’s honor,” Litivak replied mildly.
“Perhaps I was mistaken,” said Vercingetorix, turning his gaze back on Viridwx. “Viridwx need merely say that Keltill was a man of honor and a hero and I shall be happy to apologize for my error and hail him as my brother.”
Litivak groaned.
And then there was a long moment of tense silence as Viridwx sat there befuddled by the trap Vercingetorix had set for him.
Guttuatr might command that Vercingetorix not venture into the world outside the forest, but he learned of events there from those who came and went.
Among the Arverni, there were those who found it expedient to support Gobanit, and according to these men, Keltill had been justly condemned by the druids for defying the will of the gods. But to those who were eager to do battle with not only the Teutons and the legions of Caesar but the Edui as well, Keltill was a hero.
Most of the other tribes accepted that Keltill had offended the gods, but, thanks to the depredations of Caesar, more and more had come to agree that uniting long enough to drive off the Romans was becoming a necessity. Only the Edui, waxing richer, stronger, and by their lights “more civilized,” thanks to their cooperation with the Romans, were united in their approval of things as they were now.
And since the druids mingled students from all of the tribes in their schools, the world inside this forest mirrored the world outside. Except here the memory of Keltill had a living heir and champion. It might be a petty game, but Vercingetorix had no other worth playing. Viridwx might not be very clever, but he was clever enough to realize that whatever he did now would be wrong.
If he acknowledged Keltill as a man of honor and a hero, he might be hailed by those who believed it, but he would be scorned by his fellow Edui as a traitor speaking out of cowardice. But if he did not, the Arverne students would be given a fine excuse to come to blows with the Edui, and Vercingetorix’s esteem would be raised in their eyes no matter who won the fight.
But Gwyndo saw Vercingetorix’s intent and spoke before Viridwx was forced to. “Observe what your words are about to kindle in the name of your father’s honor, Vercingetorix, and then tell us you have nothing more to learn of the wisdom of the man of knowledge.”
“Must the man of knowledge be without honor?” Vercingetorix countered angrily.
“Would the father whose honor you seek to defend be proud of a son who sowed strife among the tribes of Gaul to do so?”
To that Vercingetorix had no reply, for he could not deny that Gwyndo had spoken truth, and a truth which shamed him.
“Well spoken, Gwyndo,” he was forced to mutter
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