In the Shadow of Honor

By Cisco Cividanes

In a game played by people on nights and weekends, lovers of the medieval culture, art, and pageantry come together to enjoy the best of a millennium of European history.

But as with any game, this one has a few secrets, and one of them, it seems, has the potential to turn the second largest event in the Society of Creative Anachronisms on its head with political turmoil.

Join Honorable Lord Edward Coldriver in a royally chartered "who-done-it" as he follows a trail of clues back to a potential traitor in the highest circles of a kingdom's leadership.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: May 10, 2018
• ISBN: 9781387804832

Book preview

In the Shadow of Honor

In the Shadow Of Honor

An Edward Coldriver Mystery

By Cisco Cividanes

Copyright © 2018 by Cisco Cividanes

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

First Printing: 2018

ISBN 978-1-387-80483-2

Independently Published

Editor’s note

They say chase after your dreams, but that motivational tidbit never comes with an editor, an agent, or a budget. So this is how I am doing it, at least for now. All errors herein are my own, and I own them boldly.

I am also immensely grateful to my team of volunteer editors for getting me this far. 

Thanks to everyone,

Cisco

Acknowledgements

To Alarich Von Thorn, my first mentor in the SCA, I think nothing more epitomizes our relationship in the SCA than when you put that copy of The Book of the Courtier, by Baldassare Castiglione, in my hand, and told me to read it. I still have that book, and I still recommend it frequently. For seeing potential when so many others only saw annoyance, I am forever in your debt.

To my wife Meggan, whom I met, married, and live a adventure with both in and out of the SCA, your drive, your patience, your intellect, and your stills were, and continue to be the single greatest inspiration I have in my writing pursuits, as well as life itself.

Dedication

To my son, Thomas,

Thank you for being the most amazing person I have ever had the privilege of knowing. You astound me with your humor, intellect, and growth, and make me proud beyond words to be part of your life.

I dedicate this story, and the thousands of hours behind it, to you.

Thanks for being awesome!

Dad.

About the setting

The events depicted here are largely fictional, crafted only for your entertainment. I hope you enjoy.

The location, organizations, and main event listed herein however, are real. See Author’s note at the end for more details.

If you would like to know more, please go to SCA.org for more information.

Prologue

The privacy fence that encompassed Nick’s back yard offered the two of them enough seclusion that neither were concerned as they passed the high-end firearm between them several times. It looked like something between a seventies sci-fi weapon and a shortened industrial tool, and the stubby little submachine gun was about as tricked out as anything else in Brandt’s arsenal.

I still can’t believe that you dropped that much on this thing. Nick said as he held the weapon to his shoulder one more time, looking down the red-dot holographic sight. The optics alone were over three hundred dollars, he knew. The weapon, a KRISS Vector, was one of the latest and greatest in close range firearms, and from what Brandt had said, it has set him back more than some people pay for their cars.

Considering what the factory charges for these, Brandt qualified. I got it for a song.

Nick shook his head. Nineteen grand isn’t a song, Brandt, it’s an opera.

The other laughed. Yea, well, when you think about where I’m supposed to be heading next month, this is just what the doctor ordered.

Nick raised the weapon up again, feeling its weight and balance. Expensive or not, there was no denying that it was a comfortable, well-balanced gun. If the reports were right, it was one of the first that was able to truly tame the vicious recoil of the large caliber of ammunition it was built for. He wanted to take it out to the range and see how much of the hype was reality, but not today. He handed it back to its owner. Let’s pray to God that you never have to actually use it.

Oh, I’m with you there, man. Brand said as he folded it and put it back into the non-descript bag he’d brought it in. But the next few contracts are Bolivia, Columbia and Argentina, you tell me you wouldn’t take a gun down there.

Oh, I’ll do you one better, Brandt. I’d send a platoon of Marines, and then stay behind until they said it was safe.

The two of them laughed.

Tell me something, Nick said, why in the hell didn’t you join the Army?

The taller man shrugged and thought on that for a moment. Not for me, I guess. I’m not all about the get-in-your-face and barking-orders-all-the-time type stuff.

Nick tried not to contrast that too much with the stories Brandt had told him about the private security schools he had already attended. They sure sounded like military-grade boot camps, but since neither of them had ever put on a uniform, there wasn’t much point in pressing the topic.

So, I guess it’s my turn to show off, right? Nick asked.

Brandt straightened after zipping his bag. Yep, and you always have the coolest stuff.

Nick grinned as he picked up one own tan bag from the ground. This is a little more… old-school. He unzipped the bag and pulled out an axe.

Holy crap! Brand exclaimed.

It wasn’t some hardware store, log-splitting axe. The head was long and narrow, with the blade dropping down about eight inches below the bottom of the headpiece. It looked old, solid, and lethal all at the same time.

That’s called a Danish bearded axe, Nick explained. The handle is just short enough to use one handed, but there is enough room to get a two handed grip as well. The balance is good for throwing too. Get a little bit of practice in and it will knock someone off their feet, even if they have Kevlar on.  He reached over and pointed to the slot right below the head where the blade came down below the mount on the wooden handle. And if you grab right there, you can see that the blade covers your hand. If it ever comes down to it, you can think of that as a twelfth century boxing glove. 

That’s sick! Brandt said with open admiration.

Remember that history channel documentary we watched together last year, about the battle of Hasting. Nick pointed at the axe. That axe they were talking about, the one you were drooling over. This is it.

Holy shit! Brandt said as realization hit him. I had completely forgotten. He reached over and took it, feeling the weight in his hands. Wow, that’s heavier that it looks.

Like I said, I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of it, even if it wasn’t the blade that hit me.

Where did you get this, anyway?

Made it.

You what? Brandt blurted out in astonishment.

Nick nodded. I told you I’ve been studying blacksmithing. The last three weeks was me trying to make this thing. Let me tell you, axes are a pain in the ass.

My God! This thing is super sweet! he paused, then asked, cautiously, How functional is it?

Oh, it’s as legit as they come. I’ve already split some logs with it. And as you can see the back of the head is squared. I made sure to forge-weld some extra steel on there for reinforcement, it will drive a nail through hardwood, no questions asked.

Damned. Brand said with reverence in his voice. This is some awesome stuff!

Nick noted that coming from a guy who bought weapons almost as often as clothes, that was high praise indeed.

It should look good strapped to your kit the next time you head out.

"I’ll say. This thing is… what… wait! My kit?"

Nick nodded. It’s a gift.

I can’t take this. This thing has to be a worth a few hundred dollars.

Oh, probably is at least that much. It doesn’t change the fact it’s yours.

But but but… Brant stammered for words. Why? it was clear he was completely dumbfounded by the presentation.

Nick turned around and leaned against the back door of his house. How long have we known each other, Brandt?

The other shrugged. Going on seven years, I guess. Why?

And I’ve known your wife, what… five?

Sounds about right. We’re about to have our four-year anniversary, so yea, five.

You know how it is when you meet someone and you just click. Doesn’t matter how long you’ve know them, they just work well with you.

Sure.

That was what it like for you, me, and Debby. Five minutes after saying hi, we were talking like old friends, right? It wasn’t much different at all when you introduced us to Nidia.

Yea, I remember back then. Good times. It wasn’t like it was hard to recall the chance meeting in Bricktown, Oklahoma City all those years ago. Brandt was on his way back from work, Nick and Debby were out for a night in Bricktown while both kids were at home under the watchful eye of a well-payed babysitter. The trio has collided in line for movie tickets, and the conversation there never really stopped.

Call me sentimental, Brandt, but with you heading off to South America, your wife in her last semester of grad school and all that, Debby and I… we’re just worried about you. Want to make sure you make it back with all your fingers and toes.

Brandt laughed. So you made me an axe?

Nick shrugged. It was actually therapeutic. All that work helped me come to terms with the fact I can’t help that I worry about my friends.

Man, I don’t know what to say. I’m touched.

Just promise us all you’ll be back in one piece.

Hell yea, man. You know it.

Good, because damned if I’m going to go to your funeral before I’m fifty. You got that?

No kidding. I hear you there. Hey, mind if I change the subject?

Please do.

So, what’s this thing you and Debby are packing for? You took the whole week off, told everyone they probably can’t reach you by phone, text message or IM. What the heck is this, anyway? He tossed a thumb over his shoulder towards the front of the house, where they both knew Nick’s family van was loaded down with bags, totes and a hard top luggage carrier. Three months’ worth of planning, three weeks’ worth of collecting, and three days’ worth of pre-packing had pushed the four year old van to its absolute limit, and yet Nick knew he would be able to fit a few more things in before it was all done.

You know that medieval thing I do?

Yea, sort of. I mean I hear you mention it all the time.

Next week is a really big event for us. All the way down in Mississippi. One of the biggest in the whole society.

Really? How big is it?

Oh, about four thousand people, give or take.

No shit?

No shit, Nick confirmed.

And is this like where you’re going to do more blacksmithing?

Nick shook his head. Probably not. I mean, there will be a few metalworkers there. But I’m mostly there to help with some of the ceremonial and administrative stuff.

"Admin… didn’t you call it heraldry, or something like that?" The word sounded strange coming from the man’s lips.

That’s right. Heraldry is part of it. I’m one of the people you talk to when they want to write flowery letters of introduction, or they need a script for a procession and a ceremony or something. You know, stuff like that. You know that bookshelf you walk past every time you come over?

Brandt nodded, and Nick knew the other understood which one. While half of the rooms in the house had bookshelves in them, the large set closest to the front door was the most imposing, and had the largest collection of thick, heavy looking old tomes. Most of those books are high quality copies, and or translations of texts older than Columbus, and a few of them actually are that old. He stabbed a thumb into his chest. I’m the guy who pays three figures so he can own that stuff. There are letters, and instructional texts, and essays in there on everything from how to crown a king, swear in a new parliament, how to sell property, all the way down to how to contest the sale of an old horse. You name it. There are all sorts of phrases and saying in there, legal arguments, stuff that you wouldn’t even think of until you’ve read it and realize that people actually put thoughts together that way five centuries ago. He paused, catching himself before he got off on another history-lecture tare, like he was want to do. Anyway, that’s the type of stuff I’m know for in the society. You want to sound important, or do something official, guys like me make it look and sound good.

‘Wow, Brandt said, that’s unreal. I never would have thought of history books as exciting."

Nick let out a snorted laugh. And who’s the one who collects technical manuals on guns?

Okay, okay, you got me there. I know you’re a bookworm and all, but I never thought that that kind of stuff could be used… well, like that.

That’s a large part of it, anyway. I also do armory; helping people with their coats of arms.

Oh, you mean like those guys in the malls who print your family coats of arms on T-shirts and stuff?

Nick laughed. Those guys are sideshow frauds. Ninety percent of the crap they turn out isn’t even good enough to be laughable.

Really? Brandt said, clearly taken aback at the comment.

Nick shrugged. Most people today don’t use heraldry, so they don’t understand how important it was. But when you get into the history, heraldry had more power than a police uniform would today. I mean, how much trouble can you get into for putting on a fake cop uniform?

Shit, I don’t even want to know what that fine would look like.

"Yeah, well, in some places, they executed you for faking heraldry. At least way back when, if that tells you how important it was."

Wow, Brandt blinked. That’s… just out there.

Nick nodded with a big grin. It only gets more interesting the more you read about it.

So, I mean, how’s it all… work? Brandt asked, clearly not entirely sure how to even tackle the subject.

Well, I mean, the society started in the US about fifty years ago. We have chapters in the US, Europe, Canada, and around some US military bases is Asia. The whole society if broken down into Kingdoms, right now there are twenty. We’re standing in Ansteorra, which is almost all of Texas and Oklahoma. We have a board of officers who handle legal stuff like money, liability wavers, rental contracts and that sort of thing. And we have a king and queen, and we have barons  and baronesses, and they oversea baronies, of course. Ansteorra is composed of, oh, I guess about thirty groups, between the baronies and the smaller groups as well.

That’s… huge.

Nick nodded. I don’t remember the latest numbers, but it’s a couple thousand members in Ansteorra alone.

How often to you guys get together?

Well, the local groups try and meet a few times a month. We do stuff like woodworking, or calligraphy, or cooking classes.  We have, well, sort of a martial arts part of it, too. Full contact sword fighting, but we use wooden swords, you understand.  I mean, we sort of do of everything, eventually anyway.

And its all medieval?

Nick nodded. That’s right. But on top of the weekly and monthly stuff, we also have events we go to. That’s where one group rents out a space and we have a whole weekend of activities. Everyone gets dressed in costume, we go out and do all sorts of stuff. Those are when we get to see friends we haven’t seen in a while too. People will drive hours for an SCA event, its that important for us. And there is an event almost every weekend of the year of you’re willing to drive far enough for it.

Brandt, who had heard most of this before, but had never been presented the whole narrative in one concise summary like this, was clearly dumbstruck at the whole thing. It was clear that this was more than just a hobby that his friend was part of.

The sliding porch door interrupted them just then. They both turned to see the fiery red main of largely untamed hair that could only be Nick’s oldest.

I was wondering where you two had vanished too, Kate said with mock accusation as the teen joined them out back. Mom is looking for you by the way. We’re having trouble getting the tent poles loaded.

Nick rolled his eyes. Don’t you always?

His daughter fixed him with a frown. You told mom you would help her load those up half an hour ago.

And then Brandt showed up, He countered. I don’t get to hang with the man that often, Kate!

His daughter threw her hands in the air in a gesture uncomfortably close to his own. What is it you always say; ‘don’t shoot the messenger’? But you know as well as I do how mad mom’s going to be if she has to wait too much longer.

Alright, alright. Nick conceded. Tell her we’ll be up front in ten minutes, okay?

Your funeral. She turned to leave, but stopped when she faced Brandt. So, when are we going to bring you and Nidia along with us to an event?

I, um, well, Brandt was clearly caught a little off guard by the question. You’re father’s been trying to drag me along for a few years now, Kate. But its like I told him a hundred times, I have enough hobbies. No need to add to the list of things I don’t have enough time to do.

Oh well. The girl sighed, then added, See you around. And with that she made her exit.

The moment the door closed, Brandt pointed at her and looked at Nick, And from what you’ve told me about when you were a kid, that looks like the best revenge your parents are ever going to get on you.

Yeah, don’t get me started. Nick rolls his eyes. "She’s as pushy as I am, and smarter than me or her mother."

Yeah, and that’s saying something. So this thing you’re going to next week, that’s an event, right?

Nick grinned. "More like the event. Gulf Wars is the second largest event in the SCA."

Gulf Wars?

We’ll be spitting distance from the Gulf of Mexico. That’s where it gets is name from.

Ah. Hey, I just thought of something else, how did you get your kids into the society?

They were born into it, Brandt. Katie and Will grew up with the society as part of their family. They’ve never really known not going to events two or three times a month.

"I guess. I don’t know, it just sounds a little weird, how much of your lives it takes up. I mean you talk about weekly meetings, one or two events a month. And now all the way down in nowhere Mississippi."

Yeah, it will take as much of your time as you’re willing to put into it.

But why are you all so eager to put that much time into it?

Nick thought on that question for a long, quiet moment. It wasn’t that he didn’t have an answer, but rather, he didn’t have enough time to give the answer the detail it really deserved. Rather, he started with Brandt, when you’re home alone, and you want to just hit the bar and talk, what do you do?

The other man shrugged. I don’t know, pull out my phone and see who wants to meet up.

And the same thing when you want to go shooting, right?

Sure.

What else do you do?

I don’t know. Movies, board games, Playstation. I guess all the typical junk you do to waste time these days.

Nick nodded. "I’m sort of the same way. But with me, I like to read about old battles, talk about old politics, go out and make and drink mead, you know, old stuff that other people just read about. Its fun for me. The society lets me hang out with people who geek out about it as much as I do. You do that as long as we do, that’s your friends base, Brant. You go through my phone, nine out of every ten people is a member of the Society for Creative Anachronism. I’m not kidding when I call them my extended family."

Yea, when you put it that way, I guess I can understand. Didn’t you say you even use medieval names?

That’s right, most of us, anyway. William uses his real name, but that’s okay, because ‘William’ as about as old a name as they come.

So you and Debby and Katie all go by different names when you’re at these things?

Yeah, Katie chose her SCA name before she hit second grade. Most of her friends in the society only really know her as Cathrine, with a ‘C’.

Wow. So do they like give her weird looks when you or Debby call her by her real name.

All the time. And, to be fair, when we’re at a meeting or an event, we really don’t use the names on our driver’s licenses. I know this is going to sound even stranger, but you really do kind of step into your character. When I’m talking to my daughter at a meeting, I literally am talking to Cathrine, not Katie.

And what about Debby?

She goes by Rachel.

I’ve heard you talk about that name before. Is it like in the bible or something?

It’s Hebrew. She wanted an old Jewish name.

"That’s right, Debby is Jewish. So she also plays someone who’s Jewish too?"

Believe it or not, England had a strong Jewish population at several points in its history. Debby and I read up on all of them. She’s a history nut. I mean, we both are, of course, but that’s one of her major focuses. So this was more than just finding a cool sounding name. She really wants to connect with that part of Jewish history. We both did a lot of reading before we decided what each of us wanted to go by.

I know you aren’t Jewish, but what about in the SCA?

Nick shook his head. I play an English Christian, married to a Jew. It was extremely rare, but we can document it happening at least a few times in history.

What about you, what’s your name, I mean?

At an event, absolutely everyone know me as, Nick grinned, stood straight, and then bowed with a flourish. His Lordship Edward Coldriver.

Chapter 1: Before Dawn

Lord Edward. It was a young voice, a kid’s voice, piercing the solitude of sleep.

The chill in the tent made Edward want to ignore the voice calling him from a deep slumber. Closing his eyes tight and pulling the blanket tighter under his chin, he hoped in the haze of half conciseness that the voice would just move on. There was no good reason to wake someone up before dawn, not today, not here. It had taken and hour to pitch the tent, another hour to move everything inside, and then another still to set up the interior and finally settle into bed, and that was after ten long hours on the road. Everyone, had been cranky and ready to finally sleep, Edward included.

Lord Edward. The voice said again.

No, sleep would not be regained. Not now, anyway. Ignoring the shock of cold that greeted him, he swung his feet out from under the three-deep blankets and stiffly got to his feet from the wooden slot-bed. Normally he would be squinting into morning sunlight filtered through tent canvas, but now there was only inky blackness.

Whoever is calling my name, he said through congested sinuses and a sore throat, had better have something important to talk to me about.

The five blind steps to the tent door were as much staggers as strides, but he didn’t care. The air bit at his bare chest, and his arms shook a little from the sudden chill. Memory from having pitched and set up the old marquee pavilion countless times before let him find the hooks for the door by feel alone. He undid the last hook and stepped outside, the tent fabric icy cold against his skin as he slid through.

It wasn’t quite as early as he had first thought. The sky overhead was dim with the slightest hint of pre-dawn light. The city of canvas that was the local landscape was peacefully resting, still and shimmering with the wetness of frozen morning dew. His breath blew white vapor before him with each exhale.

As it happened, the cold was not a fact lost on his visitor. A boy not older than twelve stood before him, bundled in a heavy, bulky cloak that draped down to his ankles.

Lord Edward? the boy asked. Edward noticed just then that the kid was shaking a little, and looked tired, like someone pulled from his own bed for something urgent.

Edward knelt, a thin layer of fabric from his pants offering no protection from the cold ground. He looked at the vague shape of the boy’s face. Steven? Edward asked. The head before hum bobbed in a shivering nod. He knew the boy’s father, had spoken with the man the afternoon prior.

It’s before dawn; what on earth are you looking for me for?

My father woke me. He said, a cold tremble in his voice. He sent me to get you. Said it was urgent.

Edward frowned. This moment?

To his shock, the boy nodded. "I just came from king’s tent, Lord Edward. My father woke me