The Squire's Quest (11 page)

Over the next week, Terence discovered to his considerable dismay how popular Mordred had made himself among the younger members of the court. The ladies missed him acutely and publicly, sighing over his exquisite taste and continental manners, while the men were almost as bad, speaking fondly of his good humor, quick wit, and generous nature. Agrivaine was especially disconsolate. As Mordred's bosom friend, he had enjoyed a position of prominence that his own surly nature and modest knightly skill could never have earned for him. Arthur said little, but he was obviously pleased at these indications of Mordred's charismatic personality and natural leadership. Terence felt ill.

Relief came a week after Mordred's departure, though, as talk about Mordred's qualities was replaced by more sensational news. Lady Sarah had, at last, accepted Alexander's offer of marriage. This was hailed not only by those who were always excited about weddings, but for diplomatic reasons as well. Since Sarah was Arthur's cousin, this union represented a formal relationship between Britain and one of the greatest powers on earth. Of course, it wasn'a very useful connection, inasmuch as Camelot and Constantinople were too far away from each other to be of much practical assistance in a time of war. "But it's not so far!" Alexander protested. "A month of good riding! And besides, our winter court is in Greece." He glanced at Acoriondes. "Athens is closer to England than Constantinople, is it not?"

"No, Your Highness. It would be about the same," the advisor replied.

Alexander shrugged, grinning. "Oh, well. It was a thought. You'll love Athens, Sarah!"

Even Acoriondes seemed reconciled to his master's choice of bride. "It is not the match I would have chosen," he admitted privately to Terence. "I do not admire this new idea of marrying for love. But I must admit that Lady Sarah is a woman of character and honor, and that must be worth something."

Terence suppressed a smile. Being married—privately, anyway—to his own love, he could not imagine entering into marriage
without
affection, but he didn't argue. "Who would you have had Alexander marry instead?" he asked.

Acoriondes shrugged. "Someone from a land closer to ours, at least," he said. "At the moment, the empire is at peace—else we could never have made this journey—but there are lands beyond our borders that might become enemies. There are the Bulgars to our north, for instance, and the caliphs to our east, who have been reported to be building their armies. Allies against such armies would be useful. Alexander's uncle, Alis, has even suggested an alliance with the Holy Roman Empire, as the barbarians to our northwest choose to call themselves."

The only disappointment, from the court's point of view, was that the wedding would of course take place in Alexander's home, which meant that only a select few from Arthur's court would attend the ceremony itself. Various courtiers and ladies began hinting to the king that they would like to be a part of the wedding delegation. But the question of who would go soon answered itself. Late one afternoon, the lookouts atop the castle gates announced the approach of a rider with two horses. The gates were opened and into the main court galloped Mordred. He was leading a second horse over whose saddle was draped the body of a man wearing the now familiar Greek style of armor.

"Mordred!" exclaimed Arthur. "What is it?"

"Michael!" shouted Alexander, at the same moment.

"I found this man on the road," Mordred explained hurriedly. "He was alive, but barely. His English was poor but he managed to give me his message before he died."

Alexander and Acoriondes were already loosening the bonds that held the body in the saddle. The dead man slid from the saddle, his face frozen in a twisted mask of pain.

"You know him?" Arthur asked.

"He is a courtier from Constantinople, a good man," replied Alexander. "Tell, Mordred! How did he die?"

"He had been set on by bandits," Mordred said. "He escaped them, but with two arrows in his stomach. I removed the arrows and tended the wounds, but it was too late. He died soon after, but not before telling me his errand."

Acoriondes pulled open the dead man's soft, richly embroidered shirt, revealing two wounds just above the man's navel. Terence dropped to his knees beside the body and examined them. They looked insignificant, but Terence had known too many battles and tended too many wounds to be fooled by that. Two arrows in such a place would certainly have killed this man—slowly and painfully, but certainly. Thoughtfully, he fingered the soft material of the man's doublet.

"What errand?" Alexander snapped, his eyes glittering with anger.

"It is not good news, Your Highness," Mordred replied grimly. "He fled by night from Constantinople and came to tell you that your uncle, Alis, has seized your throne and declared himself emperor in your place."

Alexander's eyes flashed, and he turned to King Arthur, declaring, "My friend, I am feared to have to leave your hospital!" Terence guessed that he meant
hospitality;
Alexander's English always suffered when he was excited.

Terence glanced at Acoriondes and read doubt in his eyes but had no chance to inquire further. Arthur said, "Then let us go together. I will muster my own troops and join you. You fought on my behalf when Count Anders rebelled against me. I can do no less for you!"

Stunned, Terence looked sharply at Mordred and saw—or did he imagine it?—a fleeting expression of satisfaction. But Alexander replied promptly. "That you must not, my friend! You have just fought a traitor here, and there may be others. Remember, Count Anders said he had allies. If you leave, you put own kingdom in danger!"

Arthur hesitated, and Mordred stepped forward. "My king, if you choose to repay your debt to Alexander by leading troops against his enemies, I offer myself at your service to watch your kingdom again. I made grave mistakes when you left me in your place before; I will not make those mistakes again."

Terence thought his heart would stop. Surely Arthur would not trust Mordred with England a second time! Then Acoriondes cleared his throat. "Your Highness? May I make a suggestion?" Arthur nodded, and Acoriondes said, "I believe that my master is correct; your place is here. But you could send a troop of your best soldiers, under the command of an experienced warrior—Sir Gawain, let us say." Terence was watching Mordred, who nodded with approval. Then Acoriondes added, "And you should send Sir Mordred with him." Mordred's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak, but Acoriondes had already continued. "A young knight of such promise could learn much from a seasoned warrior such as Sir Gawain, and from visiting foreign lands as well."

"It is well said," Arthur replied promptly. "Gawain? Mordred? You will accompany Alexander to Constantinople! Choose your men well! You leave at Alexander's command." Mordred closed his mouth, but when his eyes rested on Acoriondes, their expression was ugly.

Alexander bowed. "This, I accept." Then he turned to Sarah. "My love, our wedding must wait, I am feared. But when I am back on my own throne, I shall return for you."

"And I shall wait," Sarah replied calmly.

"You told me once," Terence commented to Acoriondes, "that at Constantinople you knew many schemers."

"Yes?" Acoriondes replied. They were several days into France, more than a week into their journey, but in the close quarters of a military expedition this was the first opportunity that Terence had found to speak privately with Acoriondes.

Terence said, "I have been thinking that, as far as clever manipulation goes, you probably match them."

The sober Greek's lips quivered, but he only replied innocently, "What do you mean?"

"That business back at Camelot, when Mordred brought your messenger. You turned the tables very neatly on Mordred, didn't you?"

Acoriondes inclined his head, acknowledging the compliment. "Perhaps. I still am not certain that your Sir Mordred is the plotter that we have suspected, but it did seem to me that he was too eager for King Arthur to depart and leave him in charge."

"Did you see the look he gave you when you made your suggestion?"

Acoriondes nodded. "I did. I have asked Bernard to watch my back."

They rode together in silence for a moment, and then Terence said, "I've been wanting to ask you: What do you think of this report from Constantinople? Could Alexander's uncle truly have seized power?"

Acoriondes frowned. "I would not have believed it. Alis is not a man of decision. I would have said he has too little energy or ambition to do such a thing. Indeed, when Alexander appointed him regent, he tried to refuse."

"So, the message was a lie?"

Acoriondes sighed. "I cannot be sure. Alis may have fallen under the influence of others. I can think of many who might use him for their own ends. I wish that Michael, the messenger, had lived longer. But not with such wounds as he had."

"He didn't die of his wounds," Terence said calmly. "Didn't you notice? There was no blood on the messenger's clothes."

Acoriondes blinked, then frowned. "Not die of ... what do you mean?"

"Wounds like that would have bled freely," Terence explained. "And even if Mordred had cleaned his body when tending the wounds, there would have been blood all over his tunic. But his garment was soft and clean."

Acoriondes frowned. "So..."

"So whenever your Michael received those two wounds—whether they were from arrows or a dagger—his heart had already stopped beating."

They had no chance for further speech, because at that moment Dinadan approached. Dinadan had been chosen one of the Camelot party, despite his lack of skill with weapons, because he had traveled extensively on the continent and spoke several languages. "Good afternoon, sir," he called as he drew near. "Hallo, Terence."

"Sir Dinadan," Acoriondes replied with a curt nod. Dinadan, with his irreverent wit, was not one of the Greek's favorites. Terence returned Dinadan's smile.

"You two should be careful, riding off for a tête-à-tête this way," Dinadan said, turning his horse and joining them. "Remember last time we were in France, how many romances got started? You don't want to set tongues wagging."

"We are both men, Sir Dinadan," Acoriondes replied sternly.

"Ah, yes. That makes a difference, doesn't it?" Dinadan replied. "I say, Sir Acoriondes, could I ask you a question?" Acoriondes nodded. "If you had rebelled against Alexander, the way this Alis fellow has—"

"I would never do so."

"Don't pick at straws," Dinadan replied promptly. "I'm asking you to
imagine
for a moment. You Greeks haven't lost your imaginations, have you? Because the old Greeks had just bales of the stuff—Homer and those chaps, I mean—and it'd be a shame if you'd lost it."

"What do you wish to ask?" Acoriondes replied with determined politeness.

"As I say," Dinadan resumed,
"if
you had rebelled against the emperor, would you scatter most of your armies along your borders while you waited for the emperor to come home?"

"Of course not," Acoriondes said disdainfully.

"Because that's what this Alis chap has done," Dinadan said.

"What?" Acoriondes hissed, lowering his voice. "How could you know that?"

"I've just been scouting up ahead, where I came on some Languedocian merchants. They've just brought a caravan from Constantinople and are swinging through Champagne on their way home to Toulouse. They say your Alis has divided up the armies and sent them off to watch the borders, then packed up and left the capital."

Terence looked closely at Acoriondes, whose eyes were fixed on the road ahead. "And do you believe these merchants?" the Greek asked.

"Oh, yes," Dinadan replied readily. "They're Cathars."

"What are Cathars?" asked Terence.

"A religious group. I spent a winter with them in southern France a year or two back—fine people, with a taste for music. And they don't lie."

Acoriondes's brow furrowed. "Then this might mean that Alis has
not
seized the throne."

Dinadan frowned. "No, that much seems to be true. The Cathar merchants referred to Alis as the new emperor of Rome."

"But that's ridiculous," Terence said. "If you had just seized power, you would never send your armies away."

"No," Acoriondes said. "Neither would you leave the walls of Constantinople, which have never been breached. It sounds more as if Alis were going on vacation—for a peaceful winter at the Athens palace, for instance." He looked keenly at Dinadan. "Did anyone else hear your conversation with these merchants?"

Dinadan nodded. "Mordred was with me," he said. Terence and Acoriondes looked up sharply, and Dinadan grinned at their dismayed faces. "Not that Mordred understood, mind you. We spoke in Provençal, the dialect of Languedoc."

"Did you tell him what you learned?"

Dinadan shook his head. "Haven't told anyone until now." He touched his horse with his heels. "But I thought you'd be interested," he added as he cantered away.

Acoriondes watched him ride off. "Perhaps that fellow isn't as foolish as he seems," he commented. Terence only nodded.

A month later, having pushed their animals for weeks along the Danube River, they turned south into Greece. By this time, Acoriondes's suggestion that Alexander's uncle had moved to the winter palace in Athens had been confirmed by other trading caravans. This news had greatly lightened the spirits of those in the Greek party. Athens, it seemed, was an indefensible city surrounded by ancient walls that were mostly in ruins. With the British knights on their side, and with Alexander at their head, they had no doubt of victory.

As the company neared Athens, Alexander began meeting nightly with Acoriondes and Gawain and Mordred, so as to plan their strategy. Terence was not present at these councils, but Gawain and Acoriondes told him all that was said. Mordred was pushing for a surprise attack, at night; while Acoriondes pleaded instead for diplomacy—asking Alexander to send him and a few men to Alis, to demand surrender. Acorion-des's request was denied, however. Both Alexander and Gawain were, by nature, men of action, and besides, as Acoriondes told Terence wearily after the last council, "No one wants to negotiate with traitors."