As he drew level with the jekzha, however, Durakkoc suddenly stopped and turned towards her. For an instant she thought that he was going to rebuke her. Then she saw that he was smiling. A moment later he strode across the intervening space between them, his aides following a yard or so behind.
"Maia!" he said, seeming as oblivious of their suround-ings as though Ogma had just shown him into her parlor. "I'm very glad to see you here! Have you come to watch us march out?"
Blushing, she scrambled down, raised her palm to her forehead and was about to fall on one knee when he took her hands in his own. He said no more, however, apparently waiting for her to answer his question.
"I've just come back from taking U-Nasada down to the Blue Gate, my lord. He's going to Quiso--to see the Tuginda."
"You're lucky to have a friend like that," replied Durakkon. "He's a wise man; and a good man, too. I only wish we'd--" He broke off. "Have you still got your diamonds?"
"Why, yes, my lord, of course. Ask me in fifty years, I'll still be saying yes to that!"
"Well, I may not have the chance: but I'm glad you like them. You deserved them."
How sad he looked, she thought: how old and gaunt and wretched! Yet it wasn't because he was afraid; she could tell that. He had, rather, an air of deep grief and resignation. It had never before occurred to her that the High Baron might have troubles like everyone else.
"I wish you luck, my lord, and the favor of the gods. Are you going to fight Santil-ke-Erketlis?"
He smiled. "No, General Kembri's doing that. We have to fight Queen Fornis, I'm afraid. A pity, isn't it?"
He was talking down to her, but she didn't mind. To her, now, he seemed just a nice old man. He'd taken a fancy to her--people often did--and, being a great lord, was indulging that fancy for a few minutes before setting out on his dismal business.
"My lord! Oh, I know how much you must have to think about just now, but can I--can I make a request of you, seeing as you've been so kind as to stop and speak to me?"
"What is it?"
"It's about--it's about the hostages, my lord. Them as Queen Forms has got, I mean."
"The hostages?" His manner became suddenly grave and,tense. "What about the hostages?"
"One of the Katrian officers, my lord; his name's Zen-Kurel. He was--he was kind to me while I was in Suba. If--if you can only save him--"
"Maia, we're going to save every one of the hostages if we can. No one's got better reason than I have, I assure you."
As her brimming eyes met his, she felt sure that he had guessed her secret. Yet intuitively she knew that he didn't regard her as a traitor for falling in love with an enemy of Bekla. In some strange way the two of them were accomplices: in his heart also there lay something--whatever it might be--which meant far more to him than the Leopards and his public position.
"I must be going now, Maia. Zen-Kurel of Katria; I'll remember that name. But will you grant me a request, too?" He was smiling again. Was this a joke? How should she answer?
"Why, yes, my lord; of course."
"They call you 'the luck of the city,' you know. The gods love you; everyone knows that. Perhaps you'll be so gracious as to give me a keepsake, for luck. I rather think we may be going to need all the luck we can get."
Gran alive! Whatever had she got with her that was fit to give to the High Baron? To accompany Nasada she had dressed very simply, without jewels, for he was always so plainly dressed himself. She felt at a complete loss. Then, suddenly, she remembered King Karnat and the golden lilies: that had worked all right.
"I'll be honored, my lord."
Deliberately, the Serrelinda stepped forward, drew the High Baron of Bekla's dagger from its sheath and with it cut off a thick curl from the golden mass round her shoulders. She replaced the dagger, knelt to kiss his hand and at the same time closed it on the curl. Then she stood up, raised her palm and climbed back into her jekzha. Thus was born another of the legends told of her long afterwards.
Lokris was already gone: presumably, not knowing how long the Serrelinda and the High Baron might stay talking, she had decided that she might, get back quicker on foot. Maia remained where she was, watching until the Beklan regiment had formed columns and left the market-place. For longer than fifty years, in the event, she remembered how she had seen the High Baron march out to die. She must have been the last woman he ever spoke to--except for one.
80: SHEND-LADOR'S STORY
"--And that was the most shameful thing I've ever seen," said Shend-Lador.
It was the third night after the departure of Durakkon to westward and of the levies to Kembri in Lapan.
Bekla seemed dulled and muted. Trade had declined, and all the lower city bustle that went with it.
Hospitality and entertainment had dwindled too. Maia had scarcely been out, except to visit Nennaunir, whom she found in low spirits because Sednil had not been able to escape the levy.
It was strange to see the Peacock Wall sentinelled by old watchmen instead of soldiers; and strange, too, to see relays of porters filing up to the citadel laden with provisions. It was as though the city were holding its breath, listening and waiting; and this tension was heightened by the heat of late summer.
"This is no season for campaigning, you know, saiyett," Jarvil--an old soldier--had remarked to Maia.
"No good'll come of it, you see."
"But it's the same for both sides," she answered.
"Oh, maybe, saiyett, maybe; but all the same, no good'll come of it, either way. It's not the right thing for men to be out campaigning, not at harvest-time."
Unnatural, she thought; unpropitious, unlucky. Yet still the comet burned: she was still safe. If only there had been a friend to talk to, confide in! If only there were some news!
Shend-Lador, therefore, when he came, she had received most gladly. When Ogma entered to announce him, she had been struggling once again with "The Deeds of Deparioth." She laid the scroll aside and jumped up eagerly.
He was leaner and browner, and his clothes were more carelessly worn than in the old days. Yet he was the sort of uncomplicated young man who, without particularly considering the matter, holds it virtually a point of honor always to behave in a light-hearted, cheerful manner. He would have been ashamed for anyone ever to see him looking gloomy, except perhaps at a funeral or some similar occasion. No doubt he had joked his way through the whole Chalcon campaign and done his best to keep his men's spirits up through everything.
"I hope you're as glad to see me, Maia, as I am to see you," he said, as soon as they had sat down.
"Well, let's say almost as glad, since you've got all the advantages."
"I couldn't have hoped to see anyone better," she answered.
"No swimming in the Barb tonight, then?" he asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "Too shallow for high diving now, is it?"
"I will if you will," she answered mischievously, pouring his wine.
"Why," said he, "you don't think I'd put you to the trouble of saving my life twice, surely? It wasn't worth saving once, you know. All the same, I'm glad you did it. Otherwise I wouldn't be sitting here now, would I, drinking Yeldashay with the Serrelinda?"
He had a charming aptitude for paying compliments with every appearance of sincerity and conviction.
He admired her dress, praised the wine, was enchanted by the cabinet of fishes and insisted on Ogma accepting ten meld. He told a bawdy joke which was really funny, making Maia roar with laughter and slap his hand in mock reproof. For some time longer they talked of trivial things, both aware that they were circling a whirlpool whose center they could not, ultimately, avoid.
It was when he got up and crossed the room to fetch a box of nut thrilsa which he had brought as a present, that she first noticed that he was limping.
"What is it?" she asked, pointing. "Have you been wounded?"
"Oh, it's nothing," he answered, grinning. "I was running much too fast to collect anything serious, believe me. It'll be all rig
ht in a week or two."
"But did you walk back with Elvair from Lapan like that?"
"Well, someone had to come with him," said Shend-Lador.
"Shenda," she asked, "what happened? What really happened? All I've heard is rumors and tales from people who weren't there. If you're really grateful that I saved you, tell me the truth."
"Not getting out of that, is there?" he said, sitting down again and picking up his goblet. He paused. "You really want to hear everything, do you? Only--"
"Yes, I do. I've always liked Elvair: he's been very kind to me. If he's in trouble I'm sorry."
"Well, all I can honestly say, Maia, is that it's a pity for a lot of good lads that he couldn't just have stayed here and gone on being kind to you."
She said nothing, waiting.
"It wasn't too bad at the start," began Shend-Lador after a little. "The men were all in good heart and we went into Chalcon as keen as a pack of hounds on the scent. But before long we found we couldn't seem to come to grips with the enemy; and then we had to face the fact that it wasn't safe even to send out patrols to try and discover where he was, because they simply got cut up. It's appalling country--thick woodland, a lot of it, where you can't see further than a few yards, with torrents coming down out of the mountains every mile or so; not particularly wide, but swift, and very nasty to ford.
"What we wanted, of course, was a battle, but that wasn't Erketlis's idea at all. And the plain truth was that Elvair didn't really know anything about generalship or campaigning. Nor did I, come to that, but we had experienced officers who did. There was a regular officer, Kapparah, who struck me as particularly useful--a crafty professional survivor if ever I saw one. But Elvair wouldn't hear a word from him.
" 'You know the mistake, don't you?' this Kapparah said to me one night when we were by ourselves.
'The mistake is obliging Erketlis by charging up and down this Cran-forsaken wilderness. What we ought to have done was pitch camp somewhere not too far into Chalcon, somewhere where we could be sure of our supplies; burned some villages taken a few hostages and waited. If you're dealing with one of these proud-hearted, feudal heldril like Erketlis, sooner or later his people are going to start telling him it's a matter of honor to attack; "Drive the hated invader from our native soil" and all that. Then we could have fought him where we wanted, in a spot of our own choosing. As it is, we're looking about as ridiculous as a man chasing an untrained puppy. Just what the puppy wants, of course."
"Up and down, round and round we went, and nothing to show for it, until the men were tired out and began to lose heart and confidence. And Elvair--he didn't really give any leadership: he didn't even set the men an example of courage and endurance. He didn't see enough of them, for a start. And he didn't seem to have a plan. I've known him for years, of course, and I could tell he was jittery-- he was bothered by the solitude and the casualties.
"And then at last, one night, we got what we'd really been needing all along: a bit of reliable information from a deserter--a Beklan. Kapparah actually recognized him-- a fellow who'd been enslaved five years ago. This man came and told us where Erketlis was--about five miles away--and said he'd lead us there. He was perfectly genuine--there wasn't any doubt about that at all.
" 'Well,' I said to Elvair, 'my men'll be ready in twenty minutes--less, if I've got anything to do with it. I'll get straight back to them now.' And do you know, Maia, he looked up at me--he was sitting at a trestle table in his tent--and he said 'I think this needs careful planning, don't you? We'll have an officers' meeting first thing in the morning.'
" 'For holy Cran's sake!' I said. 'How long d'you think it's going to take Erketlis to realize his man's missing, and where he must have gone? Every blasted minute's precious!' I said. 'Why, he may be off already!'
" 'Oh, no, I don't think so,' says Elvair. 'We'll sleep on it, that'll be best.'
"I knew then, Maia: I realized--well, I don't know any other way of putting it--I realized he was no good. He'd been offered Erketlis's head on a plate and he'd convinced himself--he really had, as far as I could see--that he was acting responsibly and doing the right thing. I tried to reason with him: I tried all I knew and at last he said, 'I'm sorry, Shenda, this is my decision, not yours, and I'm afraid I'll have to give you an order. Don't discuss it any more.'
"The next day we went after Erketlis and of course he'd gone: and I'm as good as certain that in his own mind Elvair was relieved.
"Well, you've heard--at least, I suppose you have, haven't you? In the end we fell back on to the Thettit-Ikat road, after losing something like a hundred and eighty men. And then at last we found that Erketlis was doing what we'd been praying for all along. He was offering a battle--yes, after a forced march through country which had worn us to shreds. He'd got south of us and was blocking the road; waiting for us on open ground.
"It must have been about a couple of hours after noon, I suppose. We weren't harassed at all as we approached. We deployed about half a mile away and came forward in line. They had their center right across the highway. There was a bit of a slope in their favor and they obviously had a few more men, but that was all. You could see Erketlis-- there was no mistaking him--talking to his men and giving encouragement, and they were all shouting back and banging on their shields.
"Kapparah was in command on our right and there was no holding him. He went straight into them without waiting for orders, even. I was in the center, with Elvair, and we must have been about two hundred--well,' say three hundreds--yards from the enemy when I saw that we were being attacked from behind on the left. It was Elleroth of Sarkid, with his band of home-made freebooters--volunteers--whatever he calls them. They'd lain down in a hol-low, behind some bales of straw, until we'd passed them. Well, they took us a bit by surprise and drove in our left more than I really cared about, but it wasn't a patch on Kapparah. He'd beaten his lot all to blazes--you could see them actually running away--almost the whole of the en-emy's left wing.
"Elvair had halted the center and was just standing there, watching. I said 'Go on, Elvair! Go on! We've got them!'
" 'Oh,' he said, 'our left--our left's not secure. I think it's a bit risky, don't you?'
" 'For basting Shakkarn's sake!' I said (sorry, Maia). 'If we don't pile in now we'll lose our best chance! Their left's collapsed! Lead the men in--or tell Ta-Kominion to lead them in--or I'll do it--anything! Only we must get on with it!'
"So then he went out in front of the men and gave the order to charge. We were running towards them side by side, he and I, with everyone yelling behind us, keen as knives. And we must have been about--oh--thirty yards from the enemy, I suppose, when suddenly Elvair stopped dead in his tracks. And then--well, Maia, I'm afraid I can't put it any other way--he simply turned round and ran back through our own front rank.
"Everyone saw it, and of course everyone wondered what on earth could have happened. A moment later we closed with the enemy and there was some pretty nasty fighting for a bit and I got this, incidentally" (he touched his leg), "but the real sting had gone out of our attack because the men were completely bewildered--no one knew, now, what the hell was supposed to be going on. Kapparah was cutting his way in towards us and he actually got through and joined up with us, but by that time our attack had just fizzled out for want of leadership. Erketlis had lost quite a few men--especially on the left--but so had we; and of course the trouble was that he was still there, where he'd been to begin with, blocking the road. We hadn't shifted him.
"The officers all wanted to go in again, but once an attack like that's failed, you know, it's very dificult to get the men to renew it. And it couldn't have been more conspicuous, you see, what Elvair'd done. You couldn't disguise it, you couldn't gloss it over. We went back about a quarter of a mile and hung about and argued. The enemy never moved: I reckon they must have been too tired for Erketlis to risk a counter-attack. Kapparah was crazy to have another go, but Elvair'd got nothing to say to it and there was no one else who h
ad any recognized authority or standing, you see. And then the Tonildans started muttering and saying it was only forty miles to Thettit and what were they waiting for--oh, Maia, to tell you the truth I'd rather not go on! In the end we just sort of drifted off the field. And that was the most shameful thing I've ever seen."
"Well, all I can say is--" began Maia; but Shend-Lador had not done.
"We retreated a few miles and camped for the night. They didn't pursue us. Erketlis had got what he wanted; Ikat; because we hadn't stopped him. And yet we'd had him as good as beat! He'd taken a risk and it wouldn't have come off, if only--" Shend-Lador drove his fist into his palm.
"The captains met next day and deposed Elvair. There'd have been no holding the men otherwise. I said I'd go back to Bekla with him--I was no use with this leg anyway, you see. The army fell back into Lapan and Kapparah took over the command. He'll have handed over to Kembri by now."
He helped himself to a lump of thrilsa. After a moment, nibbling, he smiled and winked at Maia. "Never mind; they say Lespa dreams it all, don't they? Poor girl must be just about tossing and turning in her sleep by now, I should think. I wish she'd wake up for a piss: I've had about enough of this particular dream, and that's a fact."
"Oh, quiet, Shenda!" cried Maia, who was superstitiously frightened by impiety--especially where Lespa was concerned. "But I don't understand! I was told as Randronoth was supposed to be going to join to you with every man he had. When did you and Elvair leave? Didn't you see Randronoth at all?"
"Well, that's the mysterious thing," replied Shend-La-dor. "No one's seen hide nor hair of Randronoth or any of his men, either. When I left with Elvair, they'd already sent two messengers to ask where the hell he was and what he meant to do."