Free The Sword Bearer by John White

Matmon who was lying on his back with his mouth open. "Now let us see what this creature can tell us!"
    He removed a cap from the mouth of the bottle. He then stooped and squirted a few drops of the wine of free pardon between Gutreth's parted lips and then replaced the cap. John, whose self-pity was subsiding slowly, watched him. He was beginning to take more interest in what was happening. He recalled the tussle in the darkness with the Matmon. He also remembered Gutreth's protection from the blow Bildreth had been about to give him. What would become of Gutreth? The Matmon's eyelids fluttered. Slowly he sat up, then shook his head bemused. And as John watched him, he saw his gaping wound close and disappear. A look of comprehension stole across the Matmon's face, and he rose to his feet. For a moment he hesitated. Then he strode toward Bjorn and knelt before him.
    "I come to ask your forgiveness, sire!" he said.
    "Forgiveness? Forgiveness for what?" Bjorn asked quietly.
    "Forgiveness for having broken my vows to you by continuing to serve the Mystery of Abomination!" Gutreth's words were sharp and clear.
    "Your majesty's servants Bildreth and myself went last night at the bidding of the Mystery to capture the Sword Bearer, who was to emerge from a magical door in the forest. We thrust him into a cave and robbed him of his sword. All this we did at the bidding of the Mystery."
    "You say you did this at the bidding of the Mystery?"
    "Yes, sire!"
    "Then you admit you had traffic with him?"
    "To my great shame, yes, sire!"
    "And it was he who bade you capture this John who now wears the sword?" Bjorn pointed at John, and Gutreth started as for the first time he saw him.
    "Yes, sire. He is indeed the one whom we captured."
    "And the sword?" Bjorn asked.
    "We buried the sword two leagues from here, your majesty," he said.
    "And it was there that we found them," Mab interrupted. "As we journeyed back from the north, Aguila the eagle with her keen eyes saw Folly bending over a wounded Matmon. And it was Folly who told us where the sword had been buried. Bildreth had tried to kill Gutreth, that he might become the Sword Bearer himself."
    "It is even so," Gutreth continued. "Bildreth, my companion, wanted to have the sword. He did indeed try to kill your servant."
    His hands rose to where the wound had been and his fingers probed unsuccessfully to find it 'Your majesty, I have done a great evil—"
    But Bjorn's eyes were searching the group of Matmon. "Then Bildreth is lying. Bildreth—" he said sharply, "where is he?"
    But Bildreth was nowhere to be seen. For at the sight of the eagle's descent with Folly and Gutreth hanging from its claws, he had stolen into the forest to flee. Quickly Bjorn sent a search party to capture him.
    The Matmon king then turned to the kneeling Gutreth. His eyes narrowed as he stared at him. "It is easy to repent when the game is up," he said. "How do I know that yours is a true change of heart?"
    Gutreth's head bowed low. "Your majesty ..." he faltered.
    "Those whose stomachs retain the wine of free pardon," Mab interposed, "those who absorb it and do not reject it are changed. They know evil and good. And they reject the evil. Your majesty may rest assured that this one will be a loyal servant, both of your majesty and of the Changer. I am presuming, of course, that it is still your majesty's wish to serve the Changer." There was a hint of scorn in Mab's voice, but Bjorn ignored it.
    "I need every follower I can get," he mused thoughtfully. He stared at the kneeling Matmon for a full minute. Then he said, "Raise your head, Gutreth son of Gyndror. Now do you swear by the bones of your ancestors that you will be true to me to the death?"
    The Matmon's face was white and drawn. His eyes were fixed on those of the Matmon king. He drew in a trembling breath and in a barely audible voice said, "I will be true to you, sire. I swear it by my ancestors' bones."
    King Bjorn continued to hold the Matmon in his