That’s surprising,’ the Patriarch said.
‘Not really, your Grace,’ Talen said. ‘Most thieves go to church. The offertory provides all sorts of splendid opportunities.’
Dolmant looked suddenly aghast.
‘Look at it this way, your Grace,’ Talen explained with mock seriousness. The Church distributes money to the poor, doesn’t she?’
‘Of course.’
‘Well, I’m one of the poor, so I take my share when the plate goes by It saves the Church all the time and trouble of looking me up to give me the money I like to be helpful when I can.’
Dolmant stared at him, then suddenly burst out laughing.
Some few miles further along, they encountered a small band of people dressed in the crude, homespun tunics that identified them as Styrics. They were on foot and, as soon as they saw Sparhawk and the others, they ran fearfully out into a nearby field.
‘Why are they so frightened?’ Talen asked, puzzled.
‘News travels very rapidly in Styricum,’ Sephrenia replied, ‘and there have been incidents lately.’
‘Incidents?’
Briefly, Sparhawk told him what had happened in the Styric village in Arcium. Talen’s face went very pale. ‘That’s awful!’ he exclaimed.
‘The Church has tried for hundreds of years to stamp out that sort of thing,’ Dolmant said sadly.
‘I think we stamped it out fairly completely in that part of Arcium,’ Sparhawk assured him. ‘I sent some men out to deal with the peasants who were responsible.’
‘Did you hang them?’ Talen asked fiercely.
‘Sephrenia wouldn’t let us, so my men gave them a switching instead.’
‘That’s all?’
‘They used thorn bushes for switches. Thorns grow very long down in Arcium, and I instructed my men to be thorough about it.’
‘A bit extreme, perhaps,’ Dolmant said.
‘It seemed fitting at the time, your Grace The Church Knights have close ties with the Styrics and we don’t like people who mistreat our friends.’
The pale winter sun was sliding into a bank of chill purple cloud behind them when they arrived at a run-down wayside inn. They ate a barely adequate meal of thin soup and greasy mutton and retired early.
It was clear and cold the following morning. The road was frozen iron-hard, and the bracken lining its sides was white with frost. The sun was very bright, but there was little warmth to it. They rode at a loping canter, wrapped tightly in their cloaks to ward off the biting chill.
The road undulated across the hills and valleys of central Elenia, passing through fields lying fallow under the winter sky Sparhawk looked about as he rode This was the region where he and Kalten had grown up, and he felt that peculiar sense of homecoming all men feel when returning after many years to the scenes of their childhood. The self-discipline which was so much a part of Pandion training usually made Sparhawk suppress any form of emotionalism, but, despite his best efforts, certain things sometimes touched him deeply.
About midmorning, Kurik called ahead. ‘There’s a rider coming up behind us,’ he reported. ‘He’s pushing his horse hard.’
Sparhawk reined in and wheeled Faran around. ‘Kalten,’ he said sharply.
‘Right,’ the big blond man replied, thrusting his cloak aside so that his sword hilt was clear.
Sparhawk also cleared his sword, and the two of them rode several hundred yards back along the road to intercept the oncoming horseman.
Their precautions, however, proved unnecessary. The rider was the young novice, Berit. He was wrapped in a plain cloak, and his hands and wrists were chapped by the morning chill. His horse, however, was lathered and steaming. He reined in and approached them at a walk. ‘I have a message for you from Lord Vanion, Sir Sparhawk,’ he said.
‘What is it?’ Sparhawk asked him.
‘The Royal Council has legitimized Prince Lycheas.’
‘They did what?’
‘When the kings of Thalesia, Deira, and Arcium insisted that a bastard could not serve as Prince Regent, the Primate Annias called the council into session, and they declared the prince to be legitimate. The primate produced a document that stated that Princess Arissa had been married to Duke Osten of Vardenais.’
‘That’s absurd,’ Sparhawk fumed.
‘That’s what Lord Vanion thought. The document appeared to be quite genuine, though, and Duke Osten died years ago, so there wasn’t any way to refute the claim. The Earl of Lenda examined the parchment very closely, and finally even he had to vote to legitimize Lycheas.’
Sparhawk swore.
‘I knew Duke Osten,’ Kalten said. ‘He was a confirmed bachelor There’s no way he’d have married. He despised women.’
‘Is there some problem?’ Patriarch Dolmant asked, riding back down the road to join them with Sephrenia, Kurik, and Talen close behind him.
‘The Royal Council has voted to legitimize Lycheas,’ Kalten told him. ‘Annias produced a paper that says that Princess Arissa was married.’
‘How strange,’ Dolmant said.
‘And how convenient,’ Sephrenia added.
‘Could the document have been falsified?’ Dolmant asked.
‘Easily, your Grace,’ Talen told him. ‘I know a man in Cimmura who could provide irrefutable proof that Archprelate Cluvonus has nine wives—including a lady Troll and an Ogress.’
‘Well, it’s done now,’ Sparhawk said. ‘It puts Lycheas one step closer to the throne, I’m afraid.’
‘When did this happen, Berit?’ Kurik asked the novice.
‘Late last night.’
Kurik scratched at his beard. ‘Princess Arissa’s cloistered at Demos,’ he said. ‘If Annias came up with this scheme just recently, she may not know she’s a wife.’
‘Widow,’ Berit corrected.
‘All right—widow, then. Arissa’s always been rather proud of the fact that she lay down with just about every man in Cimmura—begging your pardon, your Grace—and that she did it on her own terms without ever having been to the altar. If someone approached her right, it shouldn’t be too hard to get her to sign a statement that she’s never been married. Wouldn’t that sort of muddy up the waters a little?’
‘Where did you find this man, Sparhawk?’ Kalten asked admiringly. ‘He’s a treasure.’
Sparhawk was thinking very fast now. ‘Legitimacy—or illegitimacy—is a civil matter,’ he noted, ‘since it has to do with inheritance rights and things such as that, but the wedding ceremony is always a religious one, isn’t it, your Grace?’
‘Yes,’ Dolmant agreed.
‘If you and I were to get the kind of statement from Arissa that Kurik just mentioned, could the Church issue a declaration of her spinsterhood?’
Dolmant considered it. ‘It’s highly irregular,’ he said dubiously.
‘But it is possible?’
‘I suppose so, yes.’
‘Then Annias could be ordered by the Church to withdraw his spurious document, couldn’t he?’
‘Of course.’
Sparhawk turned to Kalten. ‘Who inherited Duke Osten’s lands and titles?’ he asked.
‘His nephew—a complete ass. He’s very impressed with his dukedom and he spends money faster than he earns it.’
‘How would he react if he were suddenly disinherited and the lands and title were passed to Lycheas instead?’
‘You’d be able to hear the screams in Thalesia.’
A slow smile cross Sparhawk’s face. ‘I know an honest magistrate in Vardenais, and the affair would be in his jurisdiction. If the current duke were to take the matter into litigation, and if he presented the Church declaration to support his position, the magistrate would rule in his favour, wouldn’t he?’
Kalten grinned broadly ‘He wouldn’t have any choice.’
‘Wouldn’t that sort of de-legitimize Lycheas again?’
Dolmant was smiling. Then he assumed a pious expression. ‘Let us press on to Demos, dear friends,??
? he suggested. ‘I feel a sudden yearning to hear the confession of a certain sinner.’
‘Do you know something?’ Talen said. ‘I always thought that thieves were the most devious people in the world, but nobles and churchmen make us look like amateurs.’
‘How would Platime handle the situation?’ Kalten asked as they set off again.
‘He’d stick a knife in Lycheas.’ Talen shrugged. ‘Dead bastards can’t inherit thrones, can they?’
Kalten laughed. ‘It has a certain direct charm, I’ll admit.’
‘You cannot solve the world’s problems by murder, Kalten,’ Dolmant said disapprovingly.
‘Why, your Grace, I wasn’t talking about murder The Church Knights are the Soldiers of God. If God tells us to kill somebody, it’s an act of faith, not murder Do you suppose the Church could see its way clear to instruct Sparhawk and me to dispatch Lycheas—and Annias—and Otha too, while we’re at it?’
‘Absolutely not!’
Kalten sighed. ‘It was only a thought.’
‘Who’s Otha?’ Talen asked curiously.
‘Where did you grow up, boy?’ Berit asked him.
‘In the streets.’
‘Even in the streets you must have heard of the Emperor of Zemoch.’
‘Where’s Zemoch?’
‘If you’d stayed in that school I put you in, you’d know,’ Kurik growled.
‘Schools bore me, Kurik,’ the boy responded. ‘They spent months trying to teach me my letters. Once I learned how to write my own name, I didn’t think I needed any of the rest of it.’
‘That’s why you don’t know where Zemoch is or why Otha may be the one who kills you.’
‘Why would somebody I don’t even know want to kill me?’
‘Because you’re an Elene.’
‘Everybody’s an Elene—except for the Styrics, of course.’
‘This boy has a long way to go,’ Kalten observed. ‘Somebody ought to take him in hand.’
‘If it please you, my Lords,’ Berit said, choosing his words carefully, largely, Sparhawk guessed, because of the presence of the revered Patriarch of Demos, ‘I know that you have pressing matters on your minds. I was never more than a passing fair scholar of history, but I will undertake the instruction of this urchin in the rudiments of the subject.’
‘I love to listen to this young man talk,’ Kalten said. ‘The formality almost makes me swoon with delight.’
‘Urchin?’ Talen objected loudly.
Berit’s expression did not change. With an almost casual backhanded swipe he knocked Talen out of his saddle. ‘Your first lesson, young man, is respect for your teacher,’ he said. ‘Never question his words.’
Talen came up sputtering and with a small dagger in his fist. Berit leaned back in his saddle and kicked him solidly in the chest, knocking the wind out of him.
‘Don’t you just adore the learning process?’ Kalten asked Sparhawk.
‘Now, get back on your horse,’ Berit said firmly, ‘and pay attention. I will test you from time to time, and your answers had better be correct.’
‘Are you going to let him do this?’ Talen appealed to his father.
Kurik grinned at him.
‘This isn’t fair,’ Talen complained, climbing back into his saddle He wiped at his bleeding nose. ‘You see what you did?’ he accused Berit.
‘Press your finger against your upper lip,’ Berit suggested, ‘and don’t speak without permission.’
‘What was that?’ Talen demanded incredulously Berit raised his fist.
‘All right. All right,’ Talen said, cringing away from the offered blow. ‘Go ahead. I’ll listen.’
‘I always enjoy seeing a hunger for knowledge in the young,’ Dolmant observed blandly.
And so Talen’s education began as they rode on to Demos. At first he was quite sullen about it, but after a few hours of listening to Berit, he began to be caught up in the story. ‘Can I ask questions?’ he said finally.
‘Of course,’ Berit replied.
‘You said that there weren’t any kingdoms in those days—just a lot of duchies and the like?’
Berit nodded.
‘Then how did this Abrech of Deira gain control of the whole country in the fifteenth century? Didn’t the other nobles fight him?’
‘Abrech had control of the iron mines in central Deira. His warriors had steel weapons and armour. The people facing him were armed with bronze · or even flint.’
‘That would make a difference, I guess.’
‘After he had consolidated his hold on Deira, he turned south into what’s now Elenia. It didn’t take him very long to conquer the entire region. Then he moved down into Arcium and repeated the process there After that, he turned towards central Eosia, Cammoria, Lamorkand, and Pelosia.’
‘Did he conquer all of Eosia?’
‘No. It was about that time that the Eshandist Heresy arose in Rendor, and Abrech was persuaded by the Church to give himself over to its suppression.’
‘I’ve heard about the Eshandists,’ Talen said, ‘but I could never get the straight of what they really believe.’
‘Eshand was antihierarchical.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘The Hierarchy is composed of higher church officials—primates, patriarchs and the Archprelate. Eshand believed that individual priests should decide matters of theology for their congregations and that the Hierocracy of the Church should be disbanded.’
‘I can see why high churchmen disliked him then.’
‘At any rate, Abrech gathered a huge army from western and central Eosia to move against Rendor. His eyes were fixed on heaven and so when the earls and dukes of the lands he had conquered asked for steel weapons—the better to fight the heretics, they said—he gave his consent without considering the implications. There were a few battles, but then Abrech’s empire suddenly disintegrated. Now that they had the advanced technology that the Deirans had kept secret before, the nobles of west and central Eosia no longer felt obliged to pay homage to Abrech. Elenia and Arcium declared their independence, and Cammoria, Lamorkand, and Pelosia all coalesced into strong kingdoms. Abrech himself was killed in a battle with the Eshandists in southern Cammoria.’
‘What’s all this got to do with Zemoch?’
‘I’ll get to that in due time.’
Talen looked over at Kurik. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘this is a good story Why didn’t they tell it in that school you put me in?’
‘Probably because you didn’t stay long enough to give them the chance’
‘That’s possible, I suppose.’
‘How much farther is it to Demos?’ Kalten asked, squinting at the late afternoon sun to gauge the time.
‘About twelve leagues,’ Kurik replied.
‘We’ll never make that before nightfall. Is there an inn or a tavern hereabouts?’
‘There’s a village away up ahead. They have an inn.’
‘What do you think, Sparhawk?’ Kalten asked.
‘I suppose we might as well,’ the big man agreed. ‘We wouldn’t do the horses any good by riding them all night in the cold.’
The sun was going down as they rode up a long hill towards the village. Since it was behind them, it projected their shadows far out to the front. The village was small, with thatch-roofed stone houses clustered together on either side of the road. The inn at the far end was hardly more than a taproom with a sleeping loft on the upper floor. The supper they were provided with, however, was far better than the poor fare they had been offered the previous night.
‘Are we going to the motherhouse when we get to Demos?’ Kalten asked Sparhawk after they had eaten in the low, torchlit common room.
Sparhawk considered it. ‘It’s probably being watched,’ he said. ‘Escorting the Patriarch back to Chyrellos gives us an excuse to be passing through Demos, but I’d rather not have anyone see his Grace and me go into the cloister to talk with Arissa. If Annias gets any clues about what we’ve got
planned, he’ll try to counter us. Kurik, have you got any spare room at your house?’
‘There’s an attic—and a hay loft.’
‘Good. We’ll be visiting you.’
‘Aslade will be delighted.’ Kurik’s eyes grew troubled. ‘Can I talk with you for a moment, Sparhawk?’
Sparhawk pushed back his stool and followed his squire to the far side of the flagstone-floored room.
‘You weren’t really serious about leaving Talen with Aslade, were you?’ Kurik asked quietly.
‘No,’ Sparhawk replied, ‘probably not. You were right when you said that she might be very unhappy if she finds out about your indiscretion, and Talen has a busy mouth. He could let things slip.’
‘What are we going to do with him, then?’
‘I haven’t decided yet. Berit’s looking after him and keeping him out of trouble.’
Kurik smiled. ‘I expect it’s the first time in his life that Talen’s come up against somebody who won’t tolerate his clever mouth. That lesson may be more important than all the history he’s picking up.’
‘The same thought had occurred to me.’ Sparhawk glanced over at the novice, who was talking respectfully with Sephrenia. ‘I’ve got a feeling that Berit’s going to make a very good Pandion,’ he said. ‘He’s got character and intelligence, and he was very good in that fight down in Arcium.’
‘He was fighting on foot,’ Kurik said. ‘We’ll know better when we see how he handles a lance.’
‘Kurik, you’ve got the soul of a drill sergeant.’
‘Somebody’s got to do it, Sparhawk.’
It was cold again the following morning, and the horses’ breath steamed in the frosty air as they set out. After they had gone about a mile, Berit resumed his instruction. ‘All right,’ he said to Talen, ‘tell me what you learned yesterday.’
Talen was tightly wrapped in a patched old grey cloak that had once belonged to Kurik and he was shivering, but he glibly recited back what Berit had told him the day before So far as Sparhawk could tell, the boy repeated Berit’s words verbatim.
‘You have a very good memory, Talen,’ Berit congratulated him.
‘It’s a trick,’ Talen replied with uncharacteristic modesty ‘Sometimes I carry messages for Platime, so I’ve learned how to memorize things.’