The Black Chalice (9 page)

But her eyes were veiled. She waited for him to go on.

“It seemed an omen, that banner. Here, Karelian Brandeis, is your first fief. Your colors hang from a house of blood, and so they will again. So they will forever.”

There was a long silence. Raven spoke at last, very quietly:

“What do you want from me, Karel? I can’t forgive you, or make it right. No one can. Only the wounded can forgive, if they choose to.The dead can’t speak, and no one can speak for them, not even the gods. Evil can’t be made right, Karelian; that’s why it’s evil. Otherwise it would be merely inconvenience. I think perhaps you know that, inside. It’s why you can’t serve your Christian God anymore.”

Yes, he thought, just so. She read him very well, burning all her sacred wood.

“What good has it done us,” she went on darkly, “this belief in heaven and hell and eternal life? It’s done nothing but unleash barbarism on the world. The God who infinitely punishes men requires it, and the God who infinitely forgives them will fix up all their mistakes. If the Saracens are truly damned, well then, we’ve done his work. And if by chance we were wrong, and slaughtered the innocent, he’ll be right there at the gates of death: Here, poor woman, it was all a terrible misunderstanding; let me brush away your tears, and show you all my castles; look, I have fine white robes for your babies, and pretty harps for them to play with…!

“Don’t you think it’s easy enough for humankind to be cruel, my lord, without such encouragement from their gods?”

No answer was necessary. He felt defenseless against her wisdom, and yet empowered by it, too. Nothing she said surprised him very much; only her sureness surprised him, the confidence with which she could stand apart from the whole of Christian reality, and say: There is something better.

“Raven.” His hands hungered over her shoulders. “Don’t close the gates of Car-Iduna, Raven. Or come to me at least, now and then, somewhere in the world; I know you have the power to do so. I can’t bear the thought of never seeing you again.”

“Then bind yourself to Car-Iduna, and to me, and I’ll never let you go!”

“That isn’t possible.” Why, dear God, why couldn’t she understand?

“You can’t bring me here,” he said, “and offer me all this, and then snatch it away. So might a lighthouse call in a foundering ship, and then shut up its windows, and leave the poor devils to the rocks.”

“Indeed?” she responded grimly. “God has failed to save you, and now I’m supposed to do it? Forgive me, Karelian. I like you better than I meant to, and better than I should. But none of us here in Car-Iduna are gatherers of lost sheep. If that’s what you want, you’ll have to go back to Christ, and pay his price instead.”

“God, you are cruel!” he said bitterly.

“It’s not cruel to tell a man the truth. You know what kind of world lies beyond my walls; it has almost destroyed you. It’s driven even my gods underground. I have a duty to what’s left there, and so do you. Why did you choose the winter tree to paint on your shield and your banners?”

“It’s a device of the house of Brandeis.”

“A very obscure one, as I recall. You could have chosen others.”

“I liked it. Do you think I had some other reason?”

“Perhaps.” Suddenly her voice was very soft, soft as her fingers whispering across his cheek. “You belong to us, Karelian, to the old gods of Dorn, to the ways of Car-Iduna. They’re in your blood, and they are what drew you here, more than my magic, more than the cunning of Helmardin.”

She smiled. “My gods don’t ask for your soul. Or your manhood, or your blood, or your firstborn child. They won’t wall up your mind, or scourge your body, or send you marching off to slaughter unbelievers. They have only one unchanging truth, and it is this: you must choose, and you must live with your choices. Why — if you want their gifts, and mine — why will you not join us?”

He did not answer. Her mouth brushed his, and he reached, pulling her close, turning the small whisper of a kiss into a long, bittersweet feast, pawing her without a care for where they were, for the gods who might not approve.

“Swear to me, Karel, here, before the Grail of Life—”

“In God’s name, don’t ask me any more! I can’t—!”

“You can’t have Gottfried’s world, and mine as well!”

“Then I will die between them.”

He pressed her face against his body, and held her so, lost in her hair and his wish that time would stop, simply stop here and let them be. In the sudden silence he could hear the murmur of running water, a small fountain lost somewhere among the tangle of plants; and from beyond the chamber’s heavy doors, the muffled keening of a pipe. Her breath burned hot through his tunic, hot and damp; she tried once to lift her face, and when he would not let her, she sighed and burrowed deeper.

He did not speak or stir. He knew how close he was to absolute surrender, to abandoning everything he had or ever hoped for, rather than abandon this. And every day, every kiss, every moment in her presence,he would draw closer still. He would find it easier to shatter the bonds which held him to the world, to discard the one unsullied virtue he had left. He had always been loyal. He had always kept his word, or formally revoked it. He had always defended his lord to the wall, and stood up for his comrades, and given faithful service for his pay. He could not betray Duke Gottfried, and in truth it was less for Gottfried’s sake than for his own.

His only hope was flight— to leave now, to leave quickly and forever. At first light. A day’s ride or less, and they would be gone from Helmardin. If he still had the strength to go.

All my strength, and all the courage I have, to undo the sweetest taste of happiness I have ever known….

Dear God, if God is real, he has found the way to pay me for my sins.

SIX

The Road to Ravensbruck

For the castle and all that was therein
had been swallowed by the earth.

Liber Exemplorum —
Medieval Book of Sermons

* * *

Dawn rose grey over Helmardin. From the castle’s windows I could see only a wilderness of falling snow. I went eagerly to the great hall, thinking the others would be gathering there and readying to leave. I should have known better. No one was about at all, except some of the lady’s servants, and that wretched creature Marius, who came slithering over to me like a small, oily fiend. He said good morning several times, and bowed and smiled, showing crooked buck teeth. His hair was neatly cropped in a bowl around his head; his eyes were black just like hers.

Was I feeling better? he wanted to know. Could he send me some nice breakfast? Eggs, perhaps? Salt meats? Or something lighter? Stewed fruit sat well on a troubled stomach. I refused each offering as politely as I could, and then of course I had to be plied with tonics and medicines. His mistress brewed the most splendid herbal drinks, he assured me, fine-tasting, and very good for the blood.

When nothing else worked, he tried to entice me into a game. Chess, he suggested, or dice, or any sort of cards; he knew them all.

“Something to pass the time, yes? Your master will be very late in rising, I think.”

He smiled, saying it, and I wanted to kill him.

“I don’t gamble,” I said.

A fox trotted over to us, and pushed its nose into the dwarf’s hand.

“Yes, yes, Hansli,” he said. “I know you’re hungry, but you have to wait; I need to cook this youngster first.”

Then he looked at me, and laughed. “My lady doesn’t care for the monkish types,” he said. “But I do. They’re such good sport. Are you sure you wouldn’t like a game? We could dice for your virginity.”

“I wonder,” I said coldly, “how well your lady cares for your despicable bad manners.”

“Oh, she doesn’t. She thinks I’m a wretch. But I take such good care of everything, so she puts up with me. Also, I read people very well, and that’s useful to her.” He smiled again, and winked. “You are singularly readable, squire Paul.”

I flushed red, which was exactly what the scoundrel wanted. I turned away from him, and found a chair at the far side of the hall, and sat. How many hours passed thus I cannot say, but the dwarf was never far away. He busied himself feeding the animals and the birds, talking to them all the while, teasing them and making jokes. I wondered grimly if they were wild creatures at all, or poor ensnared Christian souls.

We might all end up so, mewling and chirping, without minds or wills or any hope of heaven….

I heard a small, scurrying sound, and looked up. Marius was before me, holding a cage; inside was a huge, horrid, baleful-looking mouse.

“Look,” he said. “The bishop of Ravensbruck.”

And he all but collapsed with laughter at the look on my face. It was impossible to tell then if he had spoken honestly, or if he was simply playing me for a fool. He slipped small pieces of cheese into the cage, and the mouse nibbled them greedily from his fingers.

“I must say he made a splendid pet,” he went on. “Though Bastet is going to get him one of these days… and Bastet is so
mean.”

He smiled wickedly, but when he got no further reaction from me, he went away. Thereafter I ignored him completely. I sat like a stone, longing for Karelian to return.

* * *

There was no ceremony that night. Great platters of food and flagons of wine were laid out on a long table at the side of the hall, and the night was given over to song and dancing. A longer night, if it were possible, than the one I had already endured.

Karelian never left the lady’s side. He seemed to have forgotten all of us, forgotten the world. But something had changed. There was tension between them now, a tension which at times edged close to anger, and at other times smoldered with lust.

I was glad, at first, to think they might have quarreled— until I thought about the reason for it. What must surely be the reason, with such a woman, in such a place.

She wanted him to stay.

There is no terror like the terrors of the soul. I faced death before I went to Car-Iduna, and I have faced it since. But nothing compared to my dread of being trapped there. Such terror is surely what the damned will feel on the final day, when they are dragged to the pit’s edge and look down at the coiling fire, and feel the demons already tugging on their ankles, and see the wires and the whips and the knives. When they know there will be no end to it, and no escape. Ever.

But no one knew my dark thoughts, and no one would have cared— except perhaps to cuff my ears, and tell me to have a drink and mind my own affairs. I took what small comfort I could from my faith in Karelian’s honor. Whatever wickedness he might personally embrace, surely he would never bind the rest of us.
I will stay, lady,
he would say to her,
but you must let them go….

I watched her every gesture and his every response; it seemed he was still refusing. She would lean close, and murmur something very soft, and he would look away. They would dance together, and then stand talking quietly, and it would end the same way, in conflict. Once I swear I saw him beg, and she just tossed her head a little, like an irritated mare, and walked away.

I thought surely he would be a man, and say Enough! He would shout for his arms and his men and be damned, let all the devils in hell try to stand in his way! But no. He followed her back to the table, and sat at her elbow. If men were born with tails, he would have wagged his then, waiting for her to smile again. Which she did, very graciously, the back of her hand brushing across his cheek.

“I’m sorry, Karel.”

And he was won over again in a breath, bending his mouth to her hand, holding it for a long moment, so his lowered gaze could linger on her breasts.

How could a woman so utterly undo a man’s wits? A bit of silk, a pretty laugh, an offering of bared flesh— how could he trade his soul for so little? She wasn’t even young. Dozens of other men must have rutted on her— aye, and not just men, I thought. She was a witch; God alone knew what strange and unnatural creatures she had lured into her bed.

How could Karelian not see?

“God’s blood, you’re a sour-looking wretch tonight, Pauli.”

It was Otto, speaking lightly at my shoulder. I looked up. He had a cup of wine in his hand, and at least a flagon of it in his stomach; he spoke with an easy, half-drunk slur. He looked disapprovingly at my spot on the table, where there was no plate and no leavings.

“You fasting again? You shouldn’t, you know. It’s bad for you, too much fasting. And the food is marvelously fine. She’s some lady, this queen of Car Iduna.”

I said nothing, but I followed his gaze across the hall, where Karelian was dancing with the queen of Car-Iduna. The count was a big man, hardened from a life of warfare and not especially graceful, but he danced with her beautifully. Their bodies moved in a single space, bonded by a single rhythm of desire.

“He’ll be well bedded tonight,” Otto said. He grinned at me. “You should snaffle yourself one of her pretty followers. They’re a proud bunch, but they’re mostly willing.”

He took a huge drink, and went on with his lecture.

“A man fasts too much, Pauli, his stomach shrivels up. Same thing can happen to his cock.”

I said nothing. I had read the works of the saints, and I knew how hard they struggled. Many would have looked on such shrivelling as a gift from God. Those nights in Car-Iduna, so would have I.

* * *

I thought we would never leave the place. But with day the sun returned to Helmardin, so blinding we could hardly see. I did not care. I would have ridden into flood and fire to be gone.

I will not dwell on our leave-takings. In truth I scarcely remember them, for I was raw with impatience and desperately afraid we might still somehow be forced to stay. It was clear the lady did not want us to go. But Karelian had set his mind to it, and he was as stubborn about leaving as he had been about coming. And I, young and innocent as I was, marvelled because she let him have his way— so small, so limited was my grasp of her designs! Keeping us, she would have undone the hope of some fourscore human souls. Letting us go, she undid the hope of the world.

My last memory of Car-Iduna is of the courtyard, of how happy I was to be on my horse. How happy we all were. We were fighting men once more, and armored, and fretting to be gone. All of us except Karelian, who still would not give the order to ride. Who sat motionless, looking down at the woman standing by his stirrup. I could have wept for the pain in his eyes.

“The gates will be closed, then?” he said.

“Yes,” she said. “As you know they must be. But there’s always a way back. Did you think I would let you go without one?”

She reached up, holding out to him a black feather, long and shimmering, taken I think from a raven’s wing.

“Burn this by moonlight, in a circle of seven stones, within sight and sound of the Maren. And I will come to claim what I have asked for, and bring you the keys to Car-Iduna.”

“You’ll come only for that, lady?”

“Only for that.”

“So be it,” he said darkly. I thought he would fling the feather into the trampled snow, but instead he put it carefully away, and looked at her again.

“Farewell, Lady of the Mountain. I’ll try only to remember your beauty, and forget that you are cruel.”

“You will forget nothing, Karelian of Lys.”

She smiled, a melancholy smile, all the more enchanting for its sadness. She brushed her hand across his thigh.

“Ride safe, fair one. I will wait till the snow passes twice from the hills. And then I’ll wait no longer.”

He looked away, and signalled only with his hand, and so we rode through the open gate, into the white pitiless shimmer of Helmardin. He did not look back, not even once. I imagined it was sternness on his part, but it was sorrow, for he knew what he would see. Even as the last of our sutlers passed through the castle gates, the drawbridge melted, the walls quivered and dissolved into light, and as I stared with open mouth and rubbed my burning eyes, there remained nothing behind us but forest— dense, pathless forest without a trace of human habitation, without a breath of smoke, without a footprint, without a whisper of sound except the wind.

But she was not yet done with her sorcery. For even as I stood staring, men and horses marching past me, crunching the fresh snow, I seemed to be alone in my astonishment. The others noticed nothing. I grabbed the arm of one of the sergeants, crying at him: “Look!” He swivelled obediently in his saddle and looked, and then turned back to me, bewildered.

“What is it, Paul? What have you spotted? Is it wolves?”

“It’s gone!” I said harshly.

“What’s gone?” he said. “You look ill, lad. What’s the matter?”

I did not answer. I crossed myself, and turned again along the road to Marenfeld, the road which had been there for a hundred years, from which we had never parted, and where now, far ahead, inaccessible and silent, my lord Karelian rode like a man who had lost his soul.

The other knights were untroubled; they had perfectly clear and perfectly credible memories of our adventure. As they recalled it, we had left the inn early, and travelled most of the day, until the storm grew too severe, and it was dangerous to continue. By sheer good fortune we came upon a cave, and took shelter there. They slept well, considering the cold, and many had wonderful dreams— dreams of summer flowers, of tables laden with food, of pretty women lying in their arms.
Pity it wasn’t true,
one of them murmured. I might have doubted my own sanity, if it had not been for Karelian. He had more memories than enough, and he meant to keep them, along with his precious, evil feather.

That very night, in the inn at Marenfeld, he asked me to fashion him a pouch. Of good calfskin, he said, and well-sewn, held on a thong which he could wear around his neck.

My good lord, why don’t you throw the horrid thing away…?

I was weary, but I had slept most of the day in my saddle, an art I learned on the road to the Holy Land. So I dug about in my pack to find my sewing gear, while he brooded in his chair.

“You remember everything, Pauli, don’t you?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And yet no one else does. It’s very strange. I recall you never ate, or drank anything. Is that why the magic never touched you?”

“I believe so, my lord.” I paused, and added: “It was Reinhard’s advice, but he never followed it.”

“Then why did you?”

“To try to shield you from… from whatever might have been there….”

Many times, since I had entered his service, he had been kind to me, and looked at me with warmth in his eyes. But never more than now.

“There was no need, my friend. There is no evil in Car-Iduna. But I thank you.”

He was silent for a moment, thoughtful. Then he went on very quietly:

“No one must know what passed on this journey. I will depend on you for it. No one. Will you give me your word?”