‘You think they’ll capitulate?’ Darellon asked.
‘It’s worth a try,’ Vanion said. ‘A peaceful solution of some kind here could save us a lot of men on both sides, and I think we’re going to need every man we can lay our hands on – even the Rendors – when we come up against Otha.’
Abriel suddenly laughed. ‘I wonder how God’s going to feel about having His Church defended by Eshandist heretics?’
‘God’s tolerant,’ Komier grinned. ‘He might even forgive them – a little.’
The four knights, Berit and Kurik crept through the streets of Chyrellos towards the west gate. A faint breeze had come up, and the fog was rapidly dissipating. They reached a large burned-out area near the west gate to find thousands of tightly-packed and heavily armed Rendors gathered in the thinning mist about a heaped-up pile of rubble. Atop the rubble stood a familiar figure.
‘That’s him, all right,’ Sparhawk whispered to his companions as they took refuge in the gutted remains of a house. ‘There he stands in all his glory – Ulesim, most-favoured-disciple-of-holy-Arasham.’
‘What was that?’ Kalten asked.
‘That’s what he called himself down in Rendor. It was a self-bestowed title. I guess he wanted to spare Arasham the effort of selecting somebody.’
Ulesim was in a state bordering on hysteria, and his speech had little in the way of coherence to recommend it. He held one bony arm aloft, and he was tightly clutching something. After about every fifteen words, he would shake the object in his hand vigorously and bellow, ‘RAMSHORN!’ His followers then would roar back, ‘RAMSHORN!’
‘What do you think, Kurik?’ Sparhawk whispered as they all looked over a half-collapsed wall.
‘I think he’s crazy.’
‘Of course he’s crazy, but is he in range?’
Kurik squinted across the top of the crowd at the ranting fanatic. ‘It’s a goodly way,’ he said dubiously.
‘Give it a try anyway,’ Kalten said. ‘If your bolt falls short – or even goes over – somebody of Rendorish persuasion’s bound to catch it for you.’
Kurik laid his crossbow across the top of the broken wall to steady it and took careful aim.
‘God has revealed it to me!’ Ulesim was shrieking to his followers. ‘We must destroy the bridges which are the work of the Evil One! The forces of darkness beyond the river will assault you, but Ramshorn will protect you! The power of the Blessed Eshand has joined with that of Holy Arasham to fill the Talisman with unearthly might! Ramshorn will give you victory!’
Kurik squeezed the lever of his crossbow slowly. The thick bow made a deep-toned ‘twang’ as it sped the bolt towards its mark.
‘You are invincible!’ Ulesim was shrieking. ‘You are –’
Whatever else it was that they were was never revealed. The vanes of a crossbow bolt were suddenly protruding from Ulesim’s forehead just above his eyebrows. He stiffened, his eyes wide and his mouth suddenly gaping. Then he crumpled into a heap atop the rubble.
‘Good shot,’ Tynian congratulated Kurik.
‘Actually, I was trying to hit him in the belly,’ Kurik confessed.
‘That’s all right, Kurik,’ the Deiran laughed. ‘It was more spectacular this way anyhow.’
A vast groan of shock and dismay ran through the crowd of Rendors.
Then the word ‘crossbow’ raced through the mob. A number of unfortunates had obtained such weapons from the Lamorks in one way or another. They were torn to pieces on the spot by their frenzied compatriots. A fair number of the black-robed men from the south ran off through the streets, howling and tearing at their garments. Others slumped to the ground, weeping in despair. Still others stood staring in stunned disbelief at the place where Ulesim had only recently stood haranguing them. There was also, Sparhawk noticed, a fair amount of on-the-spot politics going on. There were those in the crowd who felt that they had a claim on the recently-vacated position, and they began to take steps to ensure their elevation to eminence, reasoning that power rests more securely in the hands of sole survivors. Adherents of this or that candidate joined in, and the huge crowd was soon embroiled in what could only be called a general riot.
‘Political discussion is quite spirited among the Rendors, isn’t it?’ Tynian observed mildly.
‘I noticed that,’ Sparhawk agreed. ‘Let’s go and tell the Preceptors about Ulesim’s accident.’
Since the Rendors were now militantly indifferent to bridges, ramshorns or the impending battle, the commanders of Martel’s army saw that they had no chance whatsoever against the human sea on the far side of the river. Mercenaries are the most realistic of all soldiers, and soon a sizeable detachment of officers rode across one of the bridges under a flag of truce. They returned just before daybreak. The mercenary commanders conferred for a few moments, and then they formed up and, pushing the rioting Rendors ahead of them, they marched out of Chyrellos and laid down their arms in surrender.
Sparhawk and the others gathered atop the wall of the outer city right beside the open west gate as the kings of western Eosia rode quite formally across the bridge to enter the Holy City. King Wargun, flanked by the mail-shirted Patriarch Bergsten, King Dregos of Arcium, King Soros of Pelosia and the ancient King Obler of Deira rode at the head of the column. Directly behind them came an ornate open carriage. Four people sat in the carriage. They were all robed and hooded, but the sheer bulk of one of them sent a chill through Sparhawk. Surely they wouldn’t have – And then, apparently at some command from the slightest of them, the four pushed back their hoods. The fat one was Platime. Stragen was the second. The third was a woman whom Sparhawk did not recognize and the fourth, slender and blonde and looking altogether lovely, was Ehlana, Queen of Elenia.
Chapter 16
Wargun’s entry into Chyrellos was hardly triumphant. The commoners of the Holy City had not been in a position to stay abreast of current affairs, and one army looks very much like another to ordinary people. For the most part, they stayed under cover as the kings of Eosia passed on their way to the Basilica.
Sparhawk had little chance to speak with his queen when they all arrived at the Basilica. He had things to say to her, of course, but they were not the sort of things he wanted to say in public. King Wargun gave his generals a few abrupt commands, and then they followed the Patriarch of Demos inside for one of the get-togethers which normally mark such occasions.
‘I’ll have to admit that this Martel of yours is very clever,’ the King of Thalesia conceded a bit later, leaning back in a chair with an ale tankard in his hand. They had gathered in a large, ornate meeting-room in the Basilica. The room had a long, polished table, a marble floor and thick burgundy drapes at the windows. The kings were present as were the Preceptors of the four orders, Patriarchs Dolmant, Emban, Ortzel and Bergsten and Sparhawk and the others, including Ulath, who still exhibited moments of vagueness but appeared to be on the mend. Sparhawk’s face was stony as he looked across the table at his bride-to-be. He had many things he wanted to say to Ehlana, and a few he was saving up for Platime and Stragen as well. He was controlling his temper with some difficulty.
‘After the burning of Coombe,’ Wargun went on, ‘Martel took a weakly defended castle perched on top of a crag. He strengthened the defences, left a sizeable garrison there and then moved on to lay siege to Larium. When we came up behind him, he fled east. Then he swung south, and finally he went west again towards Coombe. I spent weeks chasing him. It seemed that he’d led his whole army into that castle, and I settled down to starve him out. What I didn’t know was that he’d been detaching whole regiments from his army to hide in the countryside as he marched, and so he reached that castle with no more than a very small force. He sent that force inside the walls and closed the gates, and then he rode away, leaving me to besiege an impregnable castle, and leaving him free to regather his forces and march on Chyrellos.’
‘We sent a great many messages to you, Your Majesty,’ Patriarch Dolmant said.
‘I’m sure you did, Your Grace,’ Wargun said sourly, ‘but only one of them reached me. Martel cluttered most of Arcium with small bands of ambushers. I expect that most of your messengers are lying in ditches down there in God’s own rock-garden. Sorry, Dregos,’ he apologized to the Arcian King.
‘That’s all right, Wargun,’ King Dregos forgave him. ‘God had a reason for putting so much rock in Arcium. Paving roads and building walls and castles gives my people something to do other than starting wars with each other.’
‘If there were ambushers out, how did anybody manage to reach you, Your Majesty?’ Dolmant asked.
‘That was the strange part of it, Dolmant,’ Wargun replied, scratching at his tousled head. ‘I never really did get the straight of it. The fellow who got through is from Lamorkand, and it appears that he just rode openly all the way across Arcium and no one paid any attention to him. Either he’s the luckiest man alive or God loves him more than most – and he doesn’t look all that lovable to me.’
‘Is he nearby, Your Majesty?’ Sephrenia asked the King of Thalesia, her eyes strangely intent.
‘I think so, little lady,’ Wargun belched. ‘He said something about wanting to make a report to the Patriarch of Kadach. He’s probably out there in the hall somewhere.’
‘Do you suppose we might ask him a few questions?’
‘Is it really important, Sephrenia?’ Dolmant asked her.
‘Yes, Your Grace,’ she replied, ‘I think it might be. There’s something I’d like to verify.’
‘You,’ Wargun said sharply to one of the soldiers standing at the door, ‘see if you can find that seedy-looking Lamork who’s been trailing after us. Tell him to come in here.’
‘At once, Your Majesty.’
‘Naturally “at once”. I gave an order, didn’t I? All my orders are obeyed at once.’ King Wargun was already on his fourth tankard of ale, and his grip on civility was beginning to slip. ‘Anyway,’ he went on, ‘the fellow arrived at that castle I was besieging no more than two weeks ago. After I read his message, I gathered up the army and we all came here.’
The Lamork who was escorted into the room was, as Wargun had said, a bit on the seedy-looking side. He was obviously neither a warrior nor Churchman. He had thin, lank, dun-coloured hair and a big nose.
‘Ah, Eck,’ Patriarch Ortzel said, recognizing one of his servants. ‘I should have guessed that you’d have been the one to make it through. My friends, this is one of my servants – Eck by name – a very sneaky fellow, I’ve found. He’s most useful when stealth is required.’
‘I don’t think stealth had much to do with it this time, Your Grace,’ Eck admitted. He had a nasal sort of voice that seemed to go with his face. ‘As soon as we saw your signal, we all rode off to the west as fast as our horses could run. We started to run into ambushes before we even reached the Arcian border, though. That’s when we decided to split up. We thought that one of us at least might get through. Personally, I didn’t have much hope of that. There seemed to be a man with a longbow behind every tree. Anyway, I hid out in a ruined castle near Darra to think things over. I couldn’t see any way to get your message through at all. I didn’t know where King Wargun was, and I didn’t dare ask any travellers for fear that they were some of the men who’d been killing my friends.’
‘Perilous situation,’ Darellon said.
‘I thought so myself, My Lord,’ Eck agreed. ‘I hid in that ruin for two days, and then one morning, I heard the strangest sound. It seemed to be music of some kind. I thought it might be a shepherd, but it turned out to be a little girl with a few goats. She was making the music on those pipes that herders carry. The little girl seemed to be about six or so, and I knew as soon as I saw her that she was Styric. Everyone knows that it’s bad luck to have anything at all to do with Styrics, so I stayed hidden in the ruins. I certainly didn’t want her to give me away to any of the people who were looking for me. She came right up to me as if she knew exactly where I was, though, and she told me to follow her.’ He paused, his face troubled. ‘Now, I’m a grown man, Your Grace, and I don’t take orders from children – and particularly not from Styric ones – but there was something very strange about this little girl. When she told me to do something, I went right ahead and started to do it before I even stopped to think about it. Isn’t that odd? To make it short, she led me out of those ruins. The men who were looking for me were all around, but they just acted as if they couldn’t even see us. The little girl led me all the way across Arcium. Now, that’s a long, long way, but for some reason it only took us three days – four actually when you count the day when we stopped so that one of her nanny-goats could give birth to a pair of kids – cute little beasts they were, too. The little girl even insisted that I carry them on my horse when we moved on. Well sir, we reached the castle where King Wargun’s army was laying siege to some Rendors inside, and that’s when the little girl left me. It’s the oddest thing. I don’t like Styrics, but I actually cried when she went away. She gave me a little kiss before she left, and I can still feel it on my cheek. I’ve thought about it a lot since then, and I’ve decided that maybe Styrics aren’t so bad after all.’
‘Thank you,’ Sephrenia murmured.
‘Well, sir,’ Eck went on, ‘I went to the army and told them that I had a message for King Wargun from the Hierocracy. The soldiers took me to His Majesty, and I gave him the document. After he read it through, he gathered up his army, and we made a forced march to get here. That’s about all there was, My Lords.’
Kurik was smiling gently. ‘Well, well,’ he said to Sephrenia, ‘it looks as if Flute’s still around – and in more than just spirit – doesn’t it?’
‘So it would seem,’ she agreed, also smiling.
‘Document?’ Patriarch Emban said to Patriarch Ortzel.
‘I took the liberty of speaking for the Hierocracy,’ Ortzel confessed. ‘I gave each of my messengers a copy for King Wargun. I thought it might be all right, under the circumstances.’
‘It’s quite all right with me,’ Emban said. ‘Makova might not have liked it very much, though.’
‘I’ll apologize to him someday – if I happen to think about it. I wasn’t really sure whether any of the other messages had reached King Wargun, so I more or less briefed him on everything that’s been happening.’
It had taken a few moments for what they were saying to seep through King Wargun’s awareness. ‘Are you saying that I moved my army on the orders of one single Patriarch – who isn’t even a Thalesian?’ he roared.
‘No, Wargun,’ the huge Patriarch Bergsten said firmly. ‘I fully approve of the actions of the Patriarch of Kadach, so you moved your army on my orders. Would you like to argue with me about it?’
‘Oh,’ Wargun said contritely, ‘that’s different then.’ Patriarch Bergsten was not really the sort one argued with. Wargun moved on quickly. ‘I read over the document a couple of times and decided that a side trip to Cimmura might be in order. I sent Dregos and Obler with the main body of the army on ahead and took the Elenian army back up there so that they could defend their capital city. When we got there, we found the place defended by the common citizens, if you can imagine that, and when I demanded entry, they wouldn’t open the gates for me until that fat one over there gave his approval. To be honest with you, I couldn’t really see where Cimmura was in all that much danger. Those shopkeepers and common workmen were handling themselves in a very professional manner up on those walls, I’ll tell the world. Anyway, I went to the palace to meet with the Earl of Lenda and this pretty young lady who wears the crown. That’s when I saw that rascal over there.’ He pointed at Stragen. ‘He’d hemstitched a fourth cousin of mine with that rapier of his up in Emsat, and I’d put a price on his head – more out of family feeling than for any particular affection for the cousin, since the man made me sick just to look at him. He had a habit of picking his nose in public, and I find that disgusting. He won’t do it any more, though. Stragen skewered
him thoroughly. Anyway, I was going to have this rogue hanged, but Ehlana there talked me out of it.’ He took a long drink. ‘Actually,’ he belched, ‘she threatened to declare war on me if I didn’t drop the idea. She’s a very feisty young lady, I discovered.’ He suddenly grinned at Sparhawk. ‘I understand that congratulations are in order, my friend, but I don’t know that I’d take off my armour until you get to know her better.’
‘We know each other very well, Wargun,’ Ehlana said primly. ‘Sparhawk virtually raised me from a baby, so if I sometimes have a few rough edges, you have him to thank for it.’
‘I probably should have suspected something like that,’ Wargun laughed to the others, ‘because when I told Ehlana about what was happening here in Chyrellos, she insisted on bringing her army along to help with the fighting. I absolutely forbade it, and all she did was reach out, tweak my whiskers and say, “That’s all right, Wargun. I’ll race you to Chyrellos then.” Now, I don’t let anyone pull my whiskers, so I was going to spank her right there on the spot, queen or no queen, but then that enormous woman over there stepped in.’ He looked at the woman Sparhawk surmised was Mirtai, the Tamul giantess, and shuddered. ‘I couldn’t believe that she could move that fast. She had a knife to my throat before I could even blink. I tried to explain to Ehlana that I had more than enough men to capture Chyrellos, but she said something about having an investment to protect. I never really got the straight of that. Anyway, we all marched out of Cimmura and joined with Dregos and Obler and came on down here to the Holy City. Now, could somebody explain to me what’s really been happening here?’