Ghost King (9 page)

'What is your problem?' asked Prasamaccus. 'Would that there were only one.' "There is always one larger than the others,' said the Brigante.

Victorinus shrugged and explained - though he knew not why - the problems with the militia men. Prasamaccus sat silently as the Roman outlined the choices.

'How much of this coin is available for the men?' he asked.

'It is not a great sum - perhaps a month's extra pay.'

'If you allow some of the men home, the amount for each man left would grow, yes?'

'Of course.'

'Then make known the total mount on offer and tell the men they can go home. But explain that the coin will be distributed amongst those who choose to remain.'

'What will that serve? What if only one man remains? He would be as rich as Crassus.'

'Exactly,' agreed Prasamaccus, though he had no idea who Crassus was.

'I do not follow you.'

'No, that is because you are rich. Most men dream of riches. Myself, I have always wanted two horses. But the men who want to go home will now have to wonder how much they lose by doing so. What if - as you say - only one is left? Or ten?'

'How many do you think will remain?'

'More than half - if they are anything like the Brigantes I have known.'

'It would entail great risk to do as you suggest, but I feel it is wise counsel. We will attempt it. Where did you learn such guile?'

'It is the Earth Mother's gift to lonely men,' answered Prasamaccus.

His advice was proved right when 3,000 men chose to stay, earning an extra two months' pay per man. It eased Victorinus' burden and earned him plaudits from Aquila.

Three days later an unexpected guest arrived at the villa. It was Maedhlyn - hot, dusty and irritable from his ride. An hour later, refreshed by a hot bath and several goblets of warmed wine, he sat talking for some time with Victorinus. Then they summoned Prasamaccus. When the Brigante saw the portly Enchanter his heart sank. He sat quietly, refusing the wine Victorinus offered.

Maedhlyn sat opposite him, fixing him with his hawk-like eyes.

'We have a problem, Prasamaccus, one which we think you will be able to solve. There is a young man trapped in Brigante territory far to the north of the Antonine Wall in the Cale-dones mountains. He is important to us and we want him brought homCi Now, we cannot send our own men, for they do not know the land. But you do, and could travel there without suspicion.'

Prasamaccus said nothing, but now he reached for the wine and took a deep draught. The Gods give, the Gods take away. But this time they had gone too far, they had allowed him to taste a joy he had previously believed to be fable.

'Now,' said Maedhlyn persuasively, 'I can magic you to a circle of stones near Pinnata Castra, some three days' ride from Deicester Castle. All you will need to do is locate the boy, Thuro, and return him to the circle exactly six days later. I will be there - and I will return every night at midnight thereafter in case you are delayed. What do you say?'

'I have no wish to return north,' said Prasamaccus softly. Maedhlyn swallowed hard and glanced at Victorinus as the Roman sat beside the Brigante.

'You would be doing us a great service, and would be well rewarded,' Victorinus told him.

'I will need a copper bracelet edged with gold, a small house, also enough coin to purchase a horse and supply a woman with food and clothing for a year. Added to this, I want the slave Helga freed to live in this house.' As he had been speaking, the colour left his face and he feared he had set the price at an awesome level.

'Is that all?' asked Victorinus and Prasamaccus nodded. 'Then it is agreed. As soon as you return, we will arrange it.'

'No,' said the Brigante sternly. 'It will be arranged tomorrow. I am not a foolish man and know I may not survive this quest. The land of the Caledones is wild and strangers are not welcome. Also the boy, Thuro, is the son of the Roman king. Eldared will wish him dead. It is not meet that you should ask me to undertake your duties, but since you have then you must pay . . . and pay now.'

'We agree,' said Maedhlyn swiftly. 'When do you wish the marriage to take place?'

'Tomorrow.'

'As a Druid of long standing I shall officiate,'

declared Maedhlyn. "There is an oak tree back along the trail and we shall travel there in time for the birth of the new sun. You had best tell your lady.'

Prasamaccus stood and bowed and, with as much dignity as allowed a limping man, returned to his room.

'What was that about marriage?' asked Victorinus.

'The bracelet is for her. It marks the Ring of Eternity and the never-ending circle of life that springs from the union of love. Touching!'

Alantric knew his life would be forfeit should anyone find out about his meeting with the prince, so the only person he told was his wife Frycca, as she stitched the wound in his arm. Frycca loved him dearly and would do nothing to harm him, but she was proud of his gallantry and spoke of it to her sister, Marphia, swearing her to the strictest secrecy. Marphia told her husband, Briccys, who only told his dearest friend on the understanding that the secret was to remain locked within him.

Within two days of his return Alantric was dragged from his hut by three of Eldared's carles. Realising at once that he was doomed, he turned and shouted back to Frycca: 'Your loose tongue has killed me, woman!'

He did not struggle as they pulled him towards the horses, but walked with head down, totally relaxed. The guards relaxed with him and he tore his right arm free and smote the nearest man on the ear. As the guard staggered, Alantric pulled free the man's sword and plunged the blade into the heart of the second soldier. The third stepped back, dragging his own blade into the air and Alantric leapt for the nearest horse, but the beast shied. Now a dozen more guards came running and the King's champion backed away to the picket fence, a wild smile on his features.

'Come then, brothers,' he called. 'Learn a lesson that will last all your lives!'

Two men rushed in. Alantric blocked a blow, sent a backhand cut to the first man's throat and grunted as the second attacker's sword slid into his side. Twisting, he trapped the blade against his ribs and skewered the swordsman. 'Alive! Take him alive!' screamed Gael from the battlements above.

'Come down and do it yourself, whoreson!' shouted Alantric as the guards came in a rush. Alantric's blade wove a web of death and in the melee that followed a sword entered his back, tearing open his lungs. He sank to the ground and was hauled into the castle; he died just as Gael ran into the portcullis entrance.

'You stupid fools!' bellowed Gael. 'I'll see you flogged. Get his wife!' But Frycca, in her anguish, had cut her own throat with her husband's hunting-knife and lay in a pool of blood by the hearth.

Eldared's torturer worked long into the night on the others who had shared the secret, emerging with only one indisputable fact. The boy prince was indeed alive, and hiding in an unknown area of the Caledones mountains.

Eldared summoned Gael to him. 'You will go to Goroien and tell her I need the Soul Stealers. We have six people below whose blood should please her, and as many whelps as she needs. But I want the boy!'

Gael said nothing. Of all the dark legends of the mist, the Soul Stealers alone made him shiver. He bowed and left the brooding king to sit alone, staring into the hills of the south.

*

Thuro awoke still feeling the pain of the wound that had killed him, a lightning-fast roll and thrust from the Greek's short-sword. Gulain helped him to his feet.

'You did well, better than I could have hoped. Give me another month and there will not be a swordsman to rival you in all of Britain.'

'But I lost,' said Thuro, recalling with a shiver the ice-cold eyes of his young opponent.

'Of course you lost. That was Achilles, the finest warrior of his generation, a demon with sword or lance. A magnificent fighter.' 'What happened to him?' 'He died. All men die.' 'I had already surmised that,' said Thuro. 'I meant how.'

'I killed him,' said Gulain. 'I had another name then; I was Aeneas, and Achilles killed a friend of mine during the war against Troy. Not only that but he dragged the body round and round the city behind his chariot. He humiliated a man of great courage, and brought pain to the father.'

'I have heard of Troy. It was taken by a wooden horse with men hidden inside.'

'Do not be misled by Homer, for he was jesting. “Wooden Horse” is slang for a useless object, or for something pretending to be what it is not. It was a man who went to the Trojans pretending to betray his masters, the Greeks. The king, Priam, believed the man. I did not. I left the city with those who would follow me and fought my way to the coast. Later we heard that the man, Odysseus, had opened a side gate to allow Greek soldiers to enter the city.' 'Why did the king believe him?' 'Priam was a romantic who saw the best in everyone. That is how he allowed the war to begin, by seeing the best in Helen. The face that launched a thousand ships was merely a scheming woman with dyed yellow hair. The Trojan War was begun by her husband Mene-laus  and  planned  by  Helen.   She  seduced Priam's son, Paris, into taking her to his city. Menelaus then sought the aid of the other Greek kings to get her back.'

'But why go to so much trouble over one woman?'

'They did not do it for a woman, or for honour. Troy controlled the trade routes and levied great taxes on ships bound for Greece. It was - as are all wars - brought for profit.' 'I think I prefer Homer,' said Thuro. 'Read Homer for enjoyment, young prince, but do not confuse it with life.'

'What has made you so gloomy today?' asked Thuro. 'Are you ailing?'

Culain's eyes blazed briefly, and he walked away towards his cabin. Thuro did not follow at first, but noticed the Mist Warrior glance back over his shoulder. The prince grinned, sheathed his gladius and followed to find Culain sitting at the table nursing a goblet of strong spirit.

'It's Gian,' said Culain. 'I have caused her distress; it is not something I intended, but she rather surprised me.'

'She told you she loved you?'

'Do not be too clever, Thuro,' snapped Culain. He waved his hand, as if to wipe away the angry words. 'Yes, you are right. I was a fool not to see it. But she is wrong; she has known no other man and has lifted me to the skies. I should have taken her to a settlement long since.'

'What did you tell her?'

'I told her I saw her as my daughter, and could not love her more than that.'

'Why?'

'What sort of a question is why? Why what?'

'Why could you not take her to wife?'

'There was my second mistake, for she asked the same question. I have already given my heart; there can be no one else for me while my lady lives.' Culain smiled. 'But she will not have me because I choose to be mortal, and I cannot love her while she remains a goddess.'

'And this you told to Laitha?'

'Yes.'

'It was not wise,' said Thuro. 'I think you should have lied. I am not versed in the ways of women, but I think Laitha would forgive you anything except being in love with someone else.'

'I can do many things, Thuro, but I cannot turn back the hours of my life. I would not wish pain on Gian, but it is done. Go to her; help her to understand.'

'Not an easy task, and the more difficult for me because I do love her, and would take her to wife tomorrow.'

'I know that - so does she. So you are the one who should go to her.'

Thuro stood, but Culain waved him to his chair once more. 'Before you go, there is something I want you to see and a gift I wish you to have.' He fetched a bowl of water and placed it before the prince. 'Look deeply into the water, and understand.' Culain took a golden stone from his pocket and held it over the bowl until the water misted. Then he left the cabin, pulling shut the door behind him.

Thuro gazed down to find himself staring into a candle-lit room, where several men stood silently around a wide bed in which lay a slender child with white-blond hair. A man Thuro recognised as Maedhlyn leaned over and placed his hand on the child's head.

'His spirit is not here,' came Maedhlyn's voice, whispering inside Thuro's mind. 'He is in the Void; he will not return.'

'Where is this Void?' came another voice that brought a pang of deep sadness to the boy. It was Aurelius, his father.

'It is a place between Heaven and Hell. No man can fetch him back.'

'I can,' said the king.

'No, sire. It is a place of Mist Demons and darkness. You will be lost, even as the boy is lost.'

'He is my son. Use your magic to send me there. I command it!'

Maedhlyn sighed. 'Take the boy into your arms and wait.'

The water misted once more and Thuro saw the child wandering in a daze on a dark mountainside, his eyes blank and unseeing. Around him stalked black wolves with red eyes and slavering jaws. As they crept towards the child, a shining figure appeared bearing a terrible sword. He smote the wolves and they fled. Then he swept the child into his arms and knelt with him by a black stream where no flowers grew. The child awoke then and cuddled into the chest of the man, who ruffled his hair and told him all was well. Three terrible beasts approached from a sudden mist, but the king's sword shone like fire.

'Back!' he said. 'Or die. The choice is yours.'

The beasts looked at him, gauging his strength, then returned to the mist.

'I will take you home, Thuro,' said the king. 'You will be well again.' His father kissed him then.

Thuro's tears splashed to the bowl, disturbing the scene, but just as it faded a dark shadow flitted across his vision.

Culain entered silently. 'Gian said you regretted having no memory of the scene. I hope it was a gift worth having.'

Thuro cleared his throat and wiped his eyes. 'I am more in your debt now than ever. He came into Hell to find me.'

'For all his faults he was a man of courage. By all the laws of Mystery he should have died there with you, but such men are made to challenge the immutability of such laws. Be proud, Thuro.'

'One more question, Culain. What kind of man has a grey face and opal eyes?'

'Where did you see such a man?'

'Just as the vision faded, I saw a man in black running forward with a sword raised. His face was grey and his eyes clouded, like a blind man - only he was not blind.'

'And you felt he was looking at you?'

'Yes. There was no time to feel fear; it was gone in an instant.'

'Fear is what you should feel, for the man was a Soul Stealer, a drinker of blood. They exist in the Void and none know their origins. It was a source of great interest in the Feragh. Some contend they are the souls of the evil slain, others that they come from a race similar to our own. Whatever the truth they are dangerous, for their speed is like nothing human and their strength is prodigious. They feed on blood and nothing else, and cannot stand strong sunlight; it causes their skin to blister and peel, and eventually can kill them.'

'Why would I see one?'

'Why indeed? But remember you were looking into the Void, and that is their home.'

'Can they be slain?'

'Only with silver, but few men can stand against them even then. They move like shadows and strike before a warrior can parry. Their knives and swords do not cut, they merely numb. Then a man feels their long hollow teeth in his throat, drawing his life-blood. Give me your gladius.'

Thuro offered the weapon hilt first. Culain ran his golden stone along both edges of the blade, then returned it. The prince examined it, but could see no change.

'Let us hope you never do,' said Culain.

*

Thuro found Laitha in the upper mountains, sitting on a flat rock and sketching a purple butterburr. Her eyes were red-rimmed and the sketch was not of her usual high quality.

'May I join you?'

She nodded and placed her parchment and charcoal stick to her left. She was wearing only a light green woollen tunic and her fingers and arms were blue with cold. He removed his own sheepskin jerkin and draped it over her shoulders.

'He told you then,' she said, not looking at him.

'Yes. It is cold here - let us go back to your cabin and light a fire.'

'You must think me very foolish.'

'Of course I do not. You are one of the brightest people I have ever met. The only foolishness is Culain's. Now let's go back.' She smiled wanly and climbed from the rock. The sun was sinking in fire and a bitter wind was whispering through the rocks.

Back at the cabin, with the fire roaring in the hearth, she sat before the flames hugging her knees. He sat opposite her, nursing a goblet of watered wine from a cask in the back room. 'He loves someone else,' she said. 'He has loved her since before you were born - and he is not a fickle man. You would not love him yourself if he were.' 'Did he ask you to speak for him?' 'No,' lied Thuro. 'He merely told me how distressed he was to cause you pain.'

'It was my own fault. I should have waited a year; it was not so long. I am still lean like a boy; I will be more womanly next year. Perhaps by then he will realise his own true feelings.' 'And perhaps not,' warned Thuro softly. 'She is not here - whoever she is. I am here. He will come to me one day.'

'You are already beautiful, Laitha, but I think you underestimate him. What is a year to a man who has tasted eternity? He will never love you in the way you desire. Your passion will hurt you both.'

Her eyes came up and the look hit him like a blow. 'You think I don't know why you are saying this? You want me yourself. I can see it in your moon-dog eyes. Well, you won't have me. Ever! If I can't have Culain, I will have no man.'

'Fifteen is a little young to make such a decision.'

'Thank you for that advice, Uncle.'

'Now you are being foolish, Laitha. I am not your enemy and you gain nothing by hurting me. Yes, I love you. Does that make me a villain? Have I ever pressed my suit upon you?'

She stared into the flames for several minutes, then smiled and reached ou, to touch his hand. 'I am sorry, Thuro. Truly. I am so hurt inside I just want to strike out.'

'I have something to thank you for,' he said. 'You told Culain about me wanting to recall the day my father held me, and he used his magic Stone to bring it to pass.' He went on to explain about the vision, and how Culain had touched his sword.

'Let me see,' she asked.

'There is nothing to see.' He drew the gladius and the blade shone like a mirror.

'He has turned it to silver,' said Laitha.

A dark shadow flitted by the window and Thuro hurled himself across the room just as the door began to, open. His shoulder slammed into the wood and the door closed with a crash. Thuro fumbled for the bar, dropping it into place.