The Squire's Quest (12 page)

"Did you tell them that Alis has sent most of his armies away?"

Acoriondes shook his head. "Our only proof of that is the report from Dinadan's merchants. Sir Dinadan may believe them—indeed I do, myself, though I know not why—but only a fool would base a military campaign on such weak information."

"And so you have been denied permission to meet with Alis?"

Acoriondes nodded, and Terence thought for a long moment. "And what would be your punishment if you disobeyed the emperor?"

Acoriondes looked up at Terence, frowning. "Death, of course."

"Then I'll have to go alone," Terence said. "Is there anyone else in Alis's court who speaks English?"

"You will go across battle lines, on your own, to meet with an enemy? But that's treason."

"I know. How far to the city of Athens from here?"

"Not two hours'steady riding," Acoriondes replied automatically. Then he shook his head. "But you cannot!"

"I can't explain it, but I'm sure that this night attack is wrong. There is something else here that we don't know. I have to go."

"Against direct orders?"

"Are you going to report me?"

Acoriondes was silent.

"When is the attack to begin?"

Acoriondes was still for another moment, then said, "We are to leave two hours after midnight, riding slowly and quietly, so as to arrive just before dawn."

"So I should have a good three hours lead on them," Terence said.

"More," Acoriondes said. "There are faster ways through the hills for two riders alone." "Two?" Terence asked.

"I have said many times that I would die for Alexander. That is still true, even if I must die at his own hands. I am coming with you."

Over the next two hours, Terence breathed more than one prayer of thanks for Acoriondes's presence. The Greek countryside was more open than the English forests, allowing the stars and moon to light their path, but in the mountainous maze of crags and narrow passes, Terence would have been hopelessly lost. Indeed, several times he was. Having made his decision, Acoriondes was wasting no time, and more than once Terence lost sight of his guide. Each time, though, just as he was about to give up, he spotted Acoriondes atop some distant hill. The last stretch before the city was comparatively level, and by urging his laboring horse to new efforts, Terence caught up with Acoriondes at the edge of Athens. There were no guards, no gates, hardly a sign of life in all the city. Only a few lights glimmered in windows, and away in the distance Terence saw the placid empty blackness of the night sea.

"Come," Acoriondes said. "The summer palace is on that hill."

They passed through narrow city streets and open areas littered with broken masonry and ancient pillars standing alone, coming shortly to a long palace with no outer walls. Terence, used to high walls and battlements with positions for archers, could hardly believe that this unguarded structure of gleaming white marble was a king's home. Acoriondes banged on the door, which was opened a minute later by a sleepy porter with a lamp. Upon seeing Acoriondes's face, the porter turned white, staggered backwards, nearly dropping his light, and gasped something in Greek. Acoriondes rapped out a sharp command, and the still trembling man threw open the door and hurried away. As they stepped inside, Acoriondes whispered, "He's gone to fetch Alis. He was surprised to see me." "Really?" Terence replied.

A minute later, a portly man with tousled graying hair, wearing a long white sleeping robe, came running into the entry hall. "Acoriondes!" he called joyously, throwing himself at the counselor's feet and kissing his hand.

For the next several minutes Terence was reduced to the role of observer. Acoriondes raised the man to his feet—this appeared to be Alis himself, and a less imperial figure Terence could hardly imagine—and the two of them spoke rapidly in Greek. Except for the frequent repetition of the name Alexandros, Terence understood nothing of what was said, but from Alis's expressions first of overwhelming joy, then of shock and dismay, Terence surmised that the older man was hearing much that was new to him.

At last Alis set his jaw—and for a moment Terence could see a resemblance between Alexander and his rotund uncle—and called out a command. Acoriondes responded quickly, obviously disagreeing, but the older man shook his head and repeated his command. Then Alis turned and strode away. Acoriondes turned to Terence. "Alis is going back with us, to meet Alexander as he nears the city."

"Will there be fighting?"

Acoriondes shook his head. "Alis is going with us alone." Terence blinked with surprise, and Acoriondes continued, "It seems that several months ago, perhaps six weeks after my master arrived in England, an English messenger appeared at Constantinople bearing word that my master was dead, along with all his companions, killed in a forest fire."

Terence considered this new information. "That's why the doorman who met you looked as if he were seeing a ghost." He frowned. "But no one was sent to Constantinople after the battle with Anders."

"No, my friend, think," Acoriondes said. "Remember how long it takes for a messenger to travel from Camelot to Constantinople. This messenger, whoever he was, had to have been sent weeks before the rebellion even began. Someone in England wanted Alexan-dros forgotten. After a time of mourning, Alis assumed the throne—with both Alexandros and Cligés dead, Alis is next in line—then sent Michael to recover our bodies and bring them to Athens for burial."

It was too much to process. Who had the English messenger been? Who had sent him? Why? Terence thought first of Mordred, but he couldn't explain why Mordred would want to cut Alexander off from his uncle or why he would have brought the Greek messenger, Michael, back to Camelot.

Acoriondes seemed to be reading his thoughts. "I cannot explain it either. If it is all a plot, it is a deeper one than I have ever known."

At that moment, Alis returned to the room, dressed in unadorned velvet, wearing no armor and carrying no weapon. He barked a quick command, and they went out the front door to find three fresh horses saddled and ready.

Terence could remember no family reunion to compare with what followed. He, Acoriondes, and Alis came upon Alexander and the combined Greek and English forces about an hour from Athens, at the darkest part of the night. Alexander was riding a few yards ahead of the column, and Alis made his way directly to his nephew. Alexander pulled in his horse abruptly, stared, then called a halt. Alis heaved himself from the saddle, then knelt in the road in front of Alexander's horse. "What is this?" Alexander exclaimed in English. Then, with a quick shake of his head, he changed to Greek and dismounted.

Acoriondes moved his horse beside Terence's and, in a quiet voice, translated for the squire. "Alis is explaining about the messenger ... Alexandros is asking proof of this story ... Alis says that every member of the court heard the message, Alexandros can ask the translators if he wishes ... Alexandros is asking who could have sent such a message ... Alexandros is saying many very vulgar words ... He is saying what he will do to the man who sent such a lie ... more things he will do ... even more things—that one isn't even possible. I think Alexandros has forgotten that he's already had the man's legs eaten off by rats ... Wait! This is new."

Alis had diffidently interrupted Alexander's tirade, then bowed his head. Acoriondes nodded slowly.

"What is it?"

"Alis says that he is still guilty. Though his crime was the result of a mistake, not a plot, he still assumed a throne that was not his and has committed treason. He asks Alexander to strike him dead now." Then Acoriondes dismounted and knelt beside Alis in the road.

"I, too, am guilty, my lord," the counselor said in English, "with even less excuse. When I left your camp and went ahead of you to Athens, I disobeyed your direct command. I give you my neck as well."

Alexander hesitated. His right hand grasped his sword hilt and drew the blade partway from its sheath, then pushed it back down. "Why did you disobey, my old friend?"

"Because I was sure that Alis was innocent, and I wished to stop a needless war. If my life is the only one lost today, then I shall be well content with my efforts."

Terence wondered if he ought to offer to let Alexander execute him as well, since he had done the same thing as Acoriondes, but on the whole he didn't feel like it, so he held his peace.

Alexander frowned for a moment. At last he spoke. "I will not say that what either of you has done is—how do they say it?—
all right.
You have both deserved death. But I believe that your hearts are loyal, and so I pardon you. It is my right as king to be merciful." Then, having repeated this in Greek for his uncle's sake, he called out in English, "Let us make camp here! The empire is ours again! Who has some good Greek wine?"

Shouts of celebration rang down the line, and knights and squires began dismounting and unloading their packs and building fires and gathering together. Terence looked for Mordred, but in the milling crowds and dark could not tell which figure was his. Alexander embraced Alis, then Acoriondes, and joined in the raucous party that was developing around them. Bread and cheese and figs and salted meats were spread out on blankets—a military feast—while Alexander procured from somewhere a bottle of wine.

"This one is mine!" he declared jovially. "The rest of you have to find your own." He raised the bottle in a toast and called out, "To Lady Sarah of Milrick, soon my empress!" and took a long drink from the bottle. A few seconds later he choked, gasped, tried to speak, then fell to his knees and crumpled over on his side. Frantically shoving three petrified knights to one side, Terence threw himself to the ground beside the emperor, feeling at his neck. Behind him he was vaguely aware of an agonized scream—it sounded like Alexander's brother, Cligés—then heard Acoriondes's pleading voice gasping, "Terence! Terence!"

Terence looked up into his friend's eyes. "He's dead," Terence said.

Terence had come to Greece to fight a war, and afterward to attend a wedding. He stayed for a friend's funeral.

The Emperor Alexander was laid to rest with great honor and deep grief. It was clear that the people of Greece regarded Alexander in much the same light as the English regarded King Arthur—as that one ruler in a hundred who actually put their welfare above his own—and they mourned his passing accordingly. Since Alexander had no sons, Cligés was declared his successor. He promptly declined the throne—at least until he came of age in two years. At that time, under imperial law, he would have no choice, but until then he was permitted to leave the government in the hands of a regent. He immediately named Alis to continue in that role. Cligés said he could never replace his brother and refused to let people call him emperor; Alis only looked weary at the thought of two more years of rule.

To be sure, there had been some who, shortly after Alexander's death, had wondered if perhaps Cligés had poisoned his brother so as to seize the throne. Several of the Greek courtiers speculated openly on this possibility, showing no particular surprise or outrage at the idea, and Terence began to understand what Acorion-des had meant when he said that the imperial court had a history of plots. But even the Greeks had to admit that Cligés's grief for his brother was genuine and that it would be very odd for him to murder his brother then refuse to take his place. After Cligés, suspicion turned to Alis, who had already assumed the throne once, but in the light of Alis's offer to let Alexander execute him, that theory sounded hollow as well. Terence had his own suspicions, of course, but he still could think of no reason for Mordred to have done such a thing. In the end, no one had seen who gave Alexander the poisoned wine, and that was where the matter rested.

Once the funeral and the period of mourning were over, Gawain began talking about returning to England. Terence knew that Count Anders's rebellion was never far from his mind, and that his friend was eager to be at Arthur's side again. The English troops set a day for their return and began provisioning for the journey. On the night before their departure, as the English knights were meeting with Acoriondes to discuss their route home, they got a surprise. Upon being asked for his opinion on some matter, Mordred said, "Do you know, I think I won't be going with you."

"Eh?" said Gawain.

"You remember what King Arthur said when he sent me with you—that it would be good for me to visit foreign lands?" He frowned thoughtfully. "Or rather, wasn't that helpful suggestion from our dear Greek friend? Oh, well—it doesn't matter. Now that I'm here, I think I might do some traveling, maybe visit the Holy Lands. After all, I was out looking for adventures when all this started, remember?"

Terence had mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, anything that kept Mordred away from England seemed a good thing; on the other hand, anything that kept Mordred out from under his watchful gaze seemed dangerous. At that point, Dinadan's drawling voice interrupted his thoughts. "Since you bring it up," he said, "I've been thinking the same way myself. These Greek musicians have some fascinating instruments, and once I get the hang of the language, I'd like to hear their stories. I might just stay here awhile." He glanced at Acoriondes. "So long as it's all right with the regent, of course."

Acoriondes bowed his head. "I am sure it will be, Sir Dinadan. And if it is not convenient for him, I would be honored to have you as my own guest. Indeed, if I might make so bold, I have another suggestion." He raised his eyes to Terence's and said, "I have been mourning your departure already, my friend, wishing that I could show you more of our lands and customs. Could I persuade you to be my personal guest here at Athens, Squire Terence?"

Terence hesitated for only a second. If Mordred wasn't returning to England, there was no need for him to do so, either.

"Why, yes," Terence said. "I think I would enjoy that. You don't mind, do you, milord?"