The Ruby Knight (31 page)

‘We do have a problem, though, Sparhawk,' Ulath said gravely. ‘Ghwerig's going to be coming ashore very shortly, and he's got the royal crown of Thalesia with him. Wargun would give his very soul to get that crown back. I hate to say it, but we'd better lead him away from here before Ghwerig reaches the lake-shore.'

Sparhawk began to swear in frustration. His suspicions of the previous night had turned out to be all too correct.

‘We'll be all right, Sparhawk,' Bevier assured him. ‘Flute can follow Bhelliom's trail. We'll get King Wargun some distance away and then take our leave of him. We can come back later and chase down the Troll.'

‘It doesn't look as if we have much choice,' Sparhawk conceded. ‘Let's go and get Sephrenia and the children and draw Wargun away from here.'

They mounted quickly and rode back to where Sephrenia, Talen and Flute were waiting. ‘We're going to have to leave,' Sparhawk said tersely. ‘There are some Thalesians coming, and King Wargun's with them. Ulath says that if Wargun finds out what we're here for, he'll try to take the crown away from us as soon as we get our hands on it. Let's ride.'

They left the trees on the margin of the lake at a gallop, heading north. As they had anticipated, the column of Thalesian troops moved in pursuit. ‘We need a couple of miles at least,' Sparhawk shouted to the others. ‘We've got to give Ghwerig a chance to get away.'

They reached the road that bore in a north-easterly
direction back towards the city of Venne and galloped along, rather ostentatiously not looking back at the pursuing Thalesians.

‘They're coming up fast,' Talen, who could look back over his shoulder without seeming to, called to Sparhawk.

‘I'd like to get them a little farther away from Ghwerig,' Sparhawk said regretfully, ‘but I suppose this is as far as we can go.'

‘Ghwerig's a Troll, Sparhawk,' Ulath said. ‘He knows how to hide.'

‘All right,' Sparhawk agreed. He made some show of looking back over his shoulder and then held up one hand in the signal for a halt. They reined in and turned their horses to face the oncoming Thalesians.

The Thalesians also halted, and one of their number came forward at a walk. ‘King Wargun of Thalesia would have words with you, Sir Knights,' he said respectfully. ‘He will join us presently.'

‘Very well,' Sparhawk said curtly.

‘Wargun's drunk,' Ulath muttered to his friend. ‘Try to be diplomatic, Sparhawk.'

King Wargun and King Soros rode up and reined in their horses. ‘Ho-ho, Soros!' Wargun roared, swaying dangerously in his saddle. ‘We seem to have snared us a covey of Church Knights.' He blinked and peered at the knights. ‘I know that one,' he said. ‘Ulath, what are you doing here in Pelosia?'

‘Church business, Your Majesty,' Ulath replied blandly.

‘And that one with the broken nose is the Pandion Sparhawk,' Wargun added to King Soros. ‘Why were you running so hard, Sparhawk?'

‘Our mission is of a certain urgency, Your Majesty,' Sparhawk said.

‘And what mission is that?'

‘We're not at liberty to discuss it, Your Majesty. Standard Church practice, you understand.'

‘Politics then,' Wargun snorted. ‘I wish the Church would keep her nose out of politics.'

‘Will you ride along with us for a ways, Your Majesty?' Bevier inquired politely.

‘No, I think it's going to be the other way around, Sir Knight – and it's going to be more than just a ways.' Wargun looked at them all. ‘Do you know what's been going on in Arcium?'

‘We've heard a few garbled rumours, Your Majesty,' Tynian said, ‘but nothing very substantial.'

‘All right,' Wargun said, ‘I'll give you some substance. The Rendors have invaded Arcium.'

‘That's impossible!' Sparhawk exclaimed.

‘Go and tell the people who used to live in Coombe about impossible. The Rendors sacked and burned the town. Now they're marching north towards the capital at Larium. King Dregos has invoked the mutual defence treaties. Soros here and I are gathering up every able-bodied man we can lay our hands on. We're going to ride south and stamp out the Rendorish infection once and for all.'

‘I wish we could accompany Your Majesty,' Sparhawk said, ‘but we have another commitment. Perhaps, once our task is finished, we may be able to join you.'

‘You already have, Sparhawk,' Wargun said bluntly.

‘We have another urgent commitment, Your Majesty,' Sparhawk repeated.

‘The Church is eternal, Sparhawk, and she's very patient. Your other commitment will have to wait.'

That did it. Sparhawk, whose temper was never really greatly under control, looked the monarch of Thalesia full in the face. Unlike the anger of other men, whose
rage was dissipated in shouting and oaths, Sparhawk's anger took on an ominous icy calmness. ‘We are Church Knights, Your Majesty,' he said in a flat, unemotional voice. ‘We are not subject to earthly kings. Our responsibility is to God and to our mother, the Church. We will obey
her
commands, not yours.'

‘I have a thousand picked men at my back,' Wargun blustered.

‘And how many are you prepared to lose?' Sparhawk asked in his deadly quiet voice. He drew himself up in his saddle and slowly lowered his visor. ‘Let's save some time, Wargun of Thalesia,' he said formally, removing his right gauntlet. ‘I find your attitude unseemly, even irreligious, and it offends me.' With a negligent toss, he threw his gauntlet into the dust of the road in front of the Thalesian king.

‘
That's
his idea of diplomacy?' Ulath murmured to Kalten in some dismay.

‘That's about as close as he can usually get,' Kalten said, loosening his sword in its sheath. ‘You may as well go ahead and draw your axe, Ulath. This promises to be an interesting morning. Sephrenia, take the children to the rear.'

‘Are you mad, Kalten?' Ulath exploded. ‘You want me to draw my axe on my own king?'

‘Of course not,' Kalten grinned, ‘only on his funeral cortege. If Wargun goes up against Sparhawk, he'll be drinking heavenly mead after the first pass.'

‘Then I'll have to fight Sparhawk,' Ulath said regretfully.

‘That's up to you, my friend,' Kalten said with equal regret, ‘but I don't advise it. Even if you get past Sparhawk, you'll still have to face me, and I cheat a lot.'

‘I will not permit this!' a booming voice roared. The man who shouldered his horse through the surrounding
Thalesians was huge, bigger even than Ulath. He wore a mail-shirt and an ogre-horned helmet and carried a massive axe. A wide black ribbon about his neck identified him as a churchman. ‘Pick up your gauntlet, Sir Sparhawk, and withdraw your challenge! This is the command of our mother, the Church!'

‘Who's that?' Kalten asked Ulath.

‘Bergsten, the Patriarch of Emsat,' Ulath replied.

‘A
Patriarch
? Dressed like that?'

‘Bergsten's not your average churchman.'

‘Your Grace,' King Wargun faltered. ‘I -'

‘Put up your sword, Wargun,' Bergsten thundered, ‘or would you face
me
in single combat?'

‘
I
wouldn't,' Wargun said almost conversationally to Sparhawk. ‘Would
you
?'

Sparhawk looked appraisingly at the Patriarch of Emsat. ‘Not if I could help it,' he admitted. ‘How
did
he get that big?'

‘He was an only child,' Wargun said. ‘He didn't have to fight with nine brothers and sisters for his supper every night. What's your feeling about a truce at this point, Sparhawk?'

‘It sounds like the course of prudence to me, Your Majesty. We really have something important to do, though.'

‘We'll talk about it later – when Bergsten's at prayers.'

‘This is the command of the Church!' the Patriarch of Emsat roared. ‘The Church Knights will join us in this holy mission. The Eshandist heresy is an offence against God. It will die on the rocky plains of Arcium. As God gives us strength, my children, let us proceed with this great work that we are about.' He wheeled his horse to face south. ‘Don't forget your gauntlet, Sir Sparhawk,' he said over his shoulder. ‘You might need it when we get to Arcium.'

‘Yes, Your Grace,' Sparhawk replied through clenched teeth.

Promptly at noon, King Soros of Pelosia called a halt. He instructed his servants to erect his pavilion, and he and his private chaplain retired inside for noon prayers.

‘Choir-boy,' King Wargun muttered under his breath. ‘Bergsten!' he bellowed.

‘Right here, Your Majesty,' the militaristic Patriarch said mildly from behind his king.

‘Have you recovered from your spate of bad temper yet?'

‘I wasn't really bad tempered, Your Majesty. I was merely trying to save lives – yours included.'

‘What's that supposed to mean?'

‘Had you been foolish enough to accept Sir Sparhawk's challenge, you'd be dining in Heaven tonight – or supping in Hell, depending on Divine Judgement.'

‘That's direct enough.'

‘Sir Sparhawk's reputation precedes him, Your Majesty, and you would be no match for him. Now, what was it you had on your mind?'

‘How far is Lamorkand from here?'

‘The south end of the lake, My Lord – about two days.'

‘And the closest Lamork city?'

‘That would be Agnak, Your Majesty. It's just across the border and a bit to the east.'

‘All right. We'll go there then. I want to get Soros out of his own country and away from all these religious shrines. If he stops to pray one more time, I'm going to strangle him. We'll pick up the bulk of the army late today. They're already marching south. I'm going to
send Soros on down to mobilize the Lamork barons. You go with him, and if he tries to pray more than once a day, you have my permission to brain him.'

‘That could have some interesting political ramifications, Your Majesty,' Bergsten noted.

‘Lie about it,' Wargun growled. ‘Say it was an accident.'

‘How can you brain somebody by accident?'

‘Think something up. Now, listen to me, Bergsten. I need those Lamorks. Don't let Soros get side-tracked on some religious pilgrimage. Keep him moving. Quote sacred texts to him if you have to. Pick up every Lamork you can lay your hands on and then swing into Elenia. I'll meet you on the Arcian border. I've got to go to Acie in Deira. Obler's called a council of war.' He looked around. ‘Sparhawk,' he said disgustedly, ‘go someplace and pray. A Church Knight should be above eavesdropping.'

‘Yes, Your Majesty,' Sparhawk replied.

‘That's a very ugly horse you've got there, you know?' Wargun said, looking critically at Faran.

‘We're a matched set, Your Majesty.'

‘I'd be careful, King Wargun,' Kalten advised over his shoulder as he and Sparhawk started back to where their friends had dismounted. ‘He bites.'

‘Which one? Sparhawk or the horse?'

‘Take your pick, Your Majesty.'

The two swung down from their horses and joined their friends. ‘What's Ghwerig doing?' Sparhawk asked Flute.

‘He's still hiding,' the little girl replied. ‘At least I think he is. Bhelliom's not moving. He's probably going to wait until dark before he starts out again.'

Sparhawk grunted.

Kalten looked at Ulath. ‘What's the story behind Bergsten?' he asked. ‘I've never seen a churchman in armour before.'

‘He used to be a Genidian Knight,' Ulath replied. ‘He'd be Preceptor by now if he hadn't entered the priesthood.'

Kalten nodded. ‘He
did
seem to be carrying that axe as if he knew how to use it. Isn't it a bit unusual for a member of one of the militant orders to take the cloth?'

‘Not that unusual, Kalten,' Bevier disagreed from nearby. ‘A fair number of the high churchmen in Arcium used to be Cyrinics. Someday I myself may leave our order so that I can serve God more personally.'

‘We're going to have to find some nice accommodating girl for that boy, Sparhawk,' Ulath muttered. ‘Let's get him involved in some serious sin so that he gives up that notion. He's too good a man to waste by putting him in a cassock.'

‘How about Naween?' Talen, who stood beside them, suggested.

‘Who's Naween?' Ulath asked.

‘The best whore in Cimmura.' Talen shrugged. ‘She's enthusiastic about her work. Sparhawk's met her.'

‘Really?' Ulath said, looking at Sparhawk with one raised eyebrow.

‘It was on business,' Sparhawk said shortly.

‘Of course – but yours or hers?'

‘Do you suppose we could drop this?' Sparhawk cleared his throat and then looked around to make sure that none of King Wargun's soldiers was within earshot. ‘We've got to get clear of this lot before Ghwerig gets too far ahead of us,' he said.

‘Tonight,' Tynian suggested. ‘Rumour has it that King Wargun drinks himself to sleep every night. We should be able to slip away without too much problem.'

‘We surely cannot disobey the direct command of the Patriarch of Emsat,' Bevier said in a shocked tone.

‘Of course not, Bevier,' Kalten said easily. ‘We'll just slip out and find some country vicar or the abbot of a
monastery and get him to order us to go back to what we were doing.'

‘That's immoral!' Bevier gasped.

‘I know,' Kalten smirked. ‘Disgusting, isn't it?'

‘But it
is
technically legitimate, Bevier,' Tynian assured the young Cyrinic. ‘A bit devious, I'll admit, but still legitimate. We're oath-bound to follow the orders of consecrated members of the clergy. The order of a vicar or an abbot would supersede the order of Patriarch Bergsten, wouldn't it?' Tynian's eyes were wide and innocent.

Bevier looked at him helplessly, and then he began to laugh.

‘I think he's going to be all right, Sparhawk,' Ulath said, ‘but let's keep your friend Naween in reserve – just in case.'

‘Who's Naween?' Bevier asked, puzzled.

‘An acquaintance of mine,' Sparhawk replied distantly. ‘Someday I may introduce you.'

‘I'd be honoured,' Bevier said sincerely.

Talen went off some distance and collapsed in helpless laughter.

They caught up with the mob of disconsolate-looking Pelosian conscripts late that afternoon. As Sparhawk had feared, the perimeter of their encampment was being patrolled by Wargun's heavily armed thugs.

‘The soldiers set up a pavilion for them just before sunset, and they went inside. Sparhawk removed his armour and put on a mail-shirt instead. ‘The rest of you wait here,' he said. ‘I want to take a look around before it gets dark.' He put on his sword-belt and stepped out of the tent.

There were two evil-looking Thalesians outside. ‘Where do you think you're going?' one of them demanded.

Sparhawk gave him a flat, unfriendly stare and waited.

‘- My Lord,' the fellow grudgingly added.

‘I want to check on my horse,' Sparhawk said.

‘We have farriers to do that, Sir Knight.'

‘We're not going to have an argument about this, are we, neighbour?'

‘Ah – no, I don't think so, Sir Knight.'

‘Good. Where are the horses picketed?'

‘I'll show you, Sir Sparhawk.'

‘There's no need of that. Just tell me.'

‘I have to accompany you anyway, Sir Knight. The King's orders.'

‘I see. Lead on then.'

As they started out, Sparhawk heard a sudden boisterous voice. ‘Ho there, Sir Knight!' He looked around.

‘I see they got you and your friends too.' It was Kring, the Domi of the marauding band of Peloi.

‘Hello, my friend,' Sparhawk greeted the shaven-headed tribesman. ‘Did you catch up with those Zemochs?'

Kring laughed. ‘I've got a whole sack-full of ears,' he said. ‘They tried to make a stand. Stupid people, the Zemochs. But then King Soros took up with this rag-tag army, and we had to follow along in order to collect the bounty.' He rubbed at his shaved head. ‘That's all right, though. We didn't have anything pressing to do back home anyway, now that the mares have all foaled. Tell me, do you still have that young thief with you?'

‘Last time I looked, he was still around. Of course he might have stolen a few things and then bolted. He bolts very well when the occasion demands it.'

‘I'll wager he does, Sir Knight, I'll wager he does. How's my friend Tynian? I saw you all when you rode in, and I was just on my way to visit him.'

‘He's well.'

‘Good.' The Domi looked seriously at Sparhawk then. ‘Perhaps you can give me some information about military etiquette, Sir Knight. I've never been a part of a formal army before. What are the general rules about pillage?'

‘I don't think anybody would get too concerned,' Sparhawk replied, ‘as long as you limit your plundering to the enemy dead. It's considered bad form to loot the bodies of our own soldiers.'

‘Stupid rule, that one,' Kring sighed. ‘What does a dead man care about possessions? How about rape?'

‘It's frowned on. We'll be in Arcium, and that's a friendly country. Arcians are sensitive about their women-folk. Wargun's gathered up a fair number of camp-followers if those urges are bothering you.'

‘Camp-followers always act so bored. Give me a nice young virgin every time. You know, this campaign is turning out to be less and less enjoyable. How about arson? I love a good fire.'

‘I'd definitely advise against it. As I said, we'll be in Arcium, and all the towns and houses belong to the people who live there. I'm sure they'd object.'

‘Civilized warfare leaves a lot to be desired, doesn't it, Sir Knight?'

‘What can I say, Domi?' Sparhawk apologized, spreading his hands helplessly.

‘If you don't mind my saying so, it's the armour, I think. You people are so encased in steel that you lose sight of the main things – booty, women, horses. It's a failing, Sir Knight.'

‘It
is
a failing, Domi,' Sparhawk conceded. ‘Centuries of tradition, you understand.'

‘There's nothing wrong with tradition – as long as it doesn't get in the way of important things.'

‘I'll bear that in mind, Domi. Our tent's right over there. Tynian will be glad to see you.' Sparhawk followed the Thalesian sentry on through the camp to where the horses were picketed. He made some pretence of checking Faran's hooves, looking intently out into the twilight at the perimeter of the camp. As he had noted earlier, there were dozens of men riding around the outside. ‘Why so many patrols?' he asked the Thalesian.

‘The Pelosian conscripts are unenthusiastic about this campaign, Sir Knight,' the warrior replied. ‘We didn't go to all the trouble of gathering them up only to have them sneak off in the middle of the night.'

‘I see,' Sparhawk said. ‘We can go back now.'

‘Yes, My Lord.'

Wargun's patrols seriously complicated things, not to mention the presence of the two sentries outside their tent. Ghwerig was getting farther and farther away with Bhelliom, and it seemed that there was very little Sparhawk could do about it. He knew that by himself, using a mixture of stealth and main force, he could escape from the camp, but what would that accomplish? Without Flute, he'd have little chance of tracking down the fleeing Troll, and to take her along without the others to help guard her would be to place her in unacceptable danger. They were going to have to come up with some other idea.

The Thalesian warrior was leading him past the tent of some Pelosian conscripts when he saw a familiar face. ‘Occuda?' he said incredulously. ‘Is that you?'

The lantern-jawed man in bull-hide armour rose to his feet, his bleak face showing no particular pleasure at the meeting. ‘I'm afraid it is, My Lord,' he said.

‘What happened? What forced you to leave Count Ghasek?'

Occuda looked briefly at the men who shared the tent
with him. ‘Might we discuss this privately, Sir Sparhawk?'

‘Certainly, Occuda.'

‘Over there, My Lord.'

‘I'll be in plain sight,' Sparhawk told his escort. Together Sparhawk and Occuda walked away from the tent and stopped near a grove of sapling fir trees that stood so closely together that they precluded the possibility of anyone's pitching a tent among them.

‘The count has fallen ill, My Lord,' Occuda said sombrely.

‘And you left him alone with that madwoman? I'm disappointed in you, Occuda.'

‘The circumstances have changed somewhat, My Lord.'

‘Oh?'

‘The Lady Bellina is dead now.'

‘What happened to her?'

‘I killed her.' Occuda said it in a numb voice. ‘I could no longer bear her endless screaming. At first the herbs the Lady Sephrenia advised quieted Bellina somewhat, but after a short while, she seemed to shake off their effects. I tried to increase the dosage, but to no avail. Then one night as I was pushing her supper through that slot in the tower wall, I saw her. She was raving and frothing at the mouth like a rabid dog. She was obviously in agony. That's when I made the decision to put her to rest.'

‘We all knew it might come to that,' Sparhawk said gravely.

‘Perhaps. I could not bring myself to simply slaughter her, however. The herbs no longer quieted her. The nightshade, however, did. She stopped screaming shortly after I gave it to her.' There were tears in Occuda's eyes. ‘I took my sledge and broke a hole in the tower wall. Then I did as you instructed with my axe. I've never done
anything so difficult in my life. I wrapped her body in canvas and took her outside the castle. There I burned her. After what I had done, I could not face the count. I left him a note confessing my crime and then went to a woodcutter's village not far from the castle. I hired servants there to care for the count. Even after I told them there was no longer any danger at the castle, I had to pay them double wages to get them to agree. Then I came away from that place and joined this army. I hope the fighting starts soon. Everything in my life is over. All I want now is to die.'