The King's Peace (48 page)

"Is Morien up to command?" Marchel asked, refilling the cups.

I shrugged, feeling uncomfortable. "He's got Emlin ap Trivan as tri-buno, and he's very good."

She grunted agreement; she had worked with Emlin before. "He's been a decurio under Galba, and he's the lord down there. Urdo wanted me to bring him to Caer Tanaga so he could see if he was good enough, but there just isn't time really. I've never fought with him and you have—do you think he isn't up to it?"

Marchel drained her cup and passed the aleskin to me. "No, I don't think that. I'd just prefer to have someone more experienced there. He's very young, and he hasn't fought in the war, just against raiders. It's an old argument about who gets promoted, I suppose.

But he's had good training and no doubt he'll do. I think you were right to leave them, and it's good you've settled the Isarnagans, too. If only we could deal with the others so easily."

"Have you news of the others?" I refilled my cup, and hers again.

"A messenger from Cadraith ap Mardol and his father, of course. They were at Caer Asgor when they sent it, it reached me as I was setting out. That means it was sent four, no, five days ago now. They were asking for help. The ala had defeated one band. Duke Mardol said he was concerned as to how many others there might be inland in Wenlad. He thought it would take them four days to reach the coast unopposed—they sent me a map of their route. It's no farther from Caer Asgor than from here to Der-wen, as the crow flies, but whatever they call him, Mardol can't fly like a crow, or use crows for messengers either. That would be useful! But Wen-lad's all mountains, and there aren't any good roads. There
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aren't even any good tracks past Cothan."

"I've never been up there," I said. "You think you should go and help?" I sipped my ale slowly. I wished there was some way to set the cup down, or that there was some food to go with it.

"If Derwen's safe, then yes, unless we hear differently from Urdo, and I really don't thmk we should wait. The Good Lord alone knows what's happening in Demedia, but if we go up to Caer Asgor, we're bound to be nearer to where we're needed."

"Poor Angas," I said. "He hates the Isarnagans, and he's been worrying this would happen for years. I think you're right, for your ala certainly, but the sensible thing for me to do would be to get to my ala, whatever Urdo's doing with it. So maybe I ought to go east towards Caer Tanaga and hope to meet him on the way?"

"I wish you'd come to Wenlad and help get that sorted out," Marchel said, turning her cup in her hand so the ale almost slopped over the rim.

"Without my ala I'm just one more lance," I said, "I'd like to get them and talk to Urdo and then probably bring them up to Wenlad. Do you know where the other alae are?"

"Mine's here," she began, counting on her fingers. "Galba's is in Der-wen, of course.

Urdo was going with yours and Gwair's to Caer Tanaga, he should be there by now unless he's left again already. Cadraith was in Caer Asgor when he sent to me, and he was heading west. Luth was going from Foreth to Caer Lind with Alfwin. Angas is somewhere in Demedia.

That leaves ap Meneth who is almost certainly in Caer Rangor still, though he might have had a message from Wenlad and gone there."

"So might Luth," I said. "I expect Urdo's frantic."

"Not to mention Raul," Marchel said, "This is a most disorganized invasion." She laughed, and drained her ale again. "Look, I know you want to see Urdo, but I'm sure he's bringing your ala north, or will be once he gets the messages."

Anger stirred in me at this. "It is not that I want to see Urdo," I said, "Or at least, not any more than you do. I want my ala, and I want to know what's going on and what Urdo wants done first." I drew out a map from my pouch. "You are going northwest from here, into Wenlad." I traced the line with my finger. Marchel raised her chin, frowning. "Is that a river or a road?" I asked.

"River," she said. "Not very clear though. That's the Dee. The road crosses it."

"Urdo keeps saying we need new maps drawn," I agreed absently. "Well, it will take you four or five days to get there, I think, away from good roads. If I go northeast, along the highroad towards Caer Rangor, the way we came down, then if Urdo has set out from Caer Tanaga for the north, I should meet him somewhere along there. Then, if he wants me to come to Wenlad, I can come west along this highroad here and be only a few days behind you, and with my whole ala."

"And if he's not?" Marchel asked. She was looking at the map and not at me.

"Then I'll hear that on the road and go south. I'll at least know where my troops are.

As it is I'm not much help to you really, two pennons."

"Better than nothing." Marchel scowled and counted miles with her thumb and days aloud. "So small and well-defined it looks on the map. So big and out of control down here.

I'd prefer it if you came with me, but I suppose that will work. Keep sending messengers as often as you can. If all goes well, it won't take too long anyway."

"At least we don't have to worry about what we're going to do with ourselves without any fighting," I said, trying to make a joke of it. Marchel glared at me. I had no idea what I had said wrong.

"We will praise the Lord and none of us will stand for you trying to stir trouble up to stop us!"

she said, furiously.

I just stared at her for a moment. "Do you think I invited the Isarna-gans in?" I asked.

"You're a heathen, and you want more fighting, and they're all heathens who fled from their homes rather than accept the White God!" she said, looking suspicious.

"I was joking about more fighting!" I said, shaking my head in disbelief. "The ale's gone to your head, Marchel. If anyone's to blame for this invasion it's your brother Chanerig stirring up trouble in Tir Isarnagiri."

"Chanerig brought a whole island under the banner of the White God," she shouted.

"His name will be remembered forever among the Fathers of the Church!" She took another swallow of ale, and added, more quietly "Nobody could have expected so many to be willful, or for them to decide to invade us." She looked at me suspiciously. "Though you were very well placed to be there at the right time to settle them without fighting," she added.

I sprang to my feet, spilling my ale on the fleece I had been sitting on. My hand moved of its own accord to my sword hilt. "You are entirely wrong," I said, coldly. "Are you calling me a traitor?"

Marchel rubbed her hand across her eyes and stared up at me. "No," she said. "No, Sulien, I didn't mean that. But you have to decide who you serve, Urdo or your family."

This was nonsense. I was almost too confused to be angry. "What do you mean? You know I serve Urdo—before this I hadn't even been home since the beginning of the war!

You're the one who didn't want to be sent to Dun Idyn because you wanted to be near your family; I've always gone where Urdo wanted without complaint. I can't even see what you're accusing me of."

"I'm not accusing you of anything," she said. "Sit down for goodness sake. You misunderstood me. I know you're not a traitor to Urdo, even if you are a godless heathen.

But how can you serve Urdo's Peace and your gods?"

I stared down at her, and wondered if she was drunk or if she had gone quite mad like her brother Chanerig. "There has never been a need to make such a choice," I said, slowly and clearly. "Urdo does not force any faith on his followers; not even the conquered were asked to give up their gods. Urdo keeps to the old ways as well as the new. Your god may be splendid in himself, but how can you expect people to serve only one god and ignore all the others? How can you consider forcing them to, if they will not choose to? Where is your loyalty, if it came to it, between Urdo and your god?"

"Urdo is making the Peace where we may praise the White God," Marchel said. "I think we must both be tired and a little drunk, and we are saying things we don't mean. I am sorry if I have insulted you."

"And I you," I said, and bowed, and left her tent. I ate and slept in my own tent, and we parted company the next morning, with formal politeness. I hoped that by the next time I saw her she'd have calmed down.

On the evening of the third day out from the crossroads near Caer Gloran a messenger from Urdo reached me. I was congratulated on solving the problem in Derwen and instructed to go at speed to Thansethan, where my ala was waiting. The messenger was going on to Wenlad so I added a message for Marchel and Cadraith ap Mardol saying that I had received the orders and would be heading for Thansethan. It took another day and a half to reach there. We could have done it more quickly, but not without risk to the horses. As it was I made sure to walk them for a mile or so in the morning before mounting. They were all very tired, and one was lame from a loose stone when we arrived. We came up to Thansethan in a fine rain just as the bell was ringing for noon worship. I led the way to the stable door, afraid we would have to wait until the worship was over before we were let in.

I dismounted and scratched for admittance and found to my surprise the door flung open immediately by the dark and smiling face of Masarn. "Sulien!" he said, and hugged me. Then Elidir pushed past and also hugged me. I had to swing myself back into the saddle to avoid
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being trampled by what seemed like half my ala all eager to express their delight in seeing me.

"All right!" I said. "I'm very pleased to see all of you, too, but it's only been half a month or so since you saw me!" I tried to count the days in my head but stopped myself, some of them blurred together and there was no need. "Where's ap Erbin?"

They all spoke at once. Eventually Masarn got them quiet. "He's gone with the High King to Caer Lind. He's praefecto of Gwair Aderyn's ala now."

"So who's in charge of you?" I asked.

Masarn grinned. "I was, until I opened the door." he said. "Though I was told to take Raul's advice."

"And has he advised you?"

"Not a word," said Masarn, cheerfully. "It would have been very awkward if he did, him not being an armiger. But he knows better."

"Good. I've brought two more pennons as you can see, volunteers from Galba's ala.

They'll be staying with us for a while. Get them settled and their horses seen to. Do you say the High King's gone on?" I couldn't think why he would have gone to Caer Lind, of all places.

"Yes," Masarn said. "He told us to wait here for you. I don't have any orders. But Raul's here, he wants to see you as soon as possible. He knows what's going on."

"Look after my horses then," I said, dismounting. Beauty had his ears back. I patted him and gave the rein to Masarn.

"Shall I come with you?" Elidir asked. As signaler she sometimes accompanied me to make notes and carry papers.

"Not this time," I said. "I'll find out what we're going to do and let you know."

It was very good to be alone for a moment as I walked out through the stables, past my ala's familiar horses, and into the courtyard. It was very peaceful. I wanted to prepare myself to see my son Darien. I hadn't managed to bring him anything, again. My mind somehow refused to stop racing. I wanted to know what was happening.

When I came out into the courtyard, Arvlid was remonstrating with three of my armigers, who were sitting soaking their feet in the pool that fed the water clock. Arvlid was very plump now, and very pink in the face. She could never have run ten miles to warn the monastery; she would have been out of breath after one. I sent the armigers away with their heads between their knees—one of them looked as if she might cry when

I asked them if they had just come off the farm. Arvlid was the only real friend I had made in my time at Thansethan, and I was glad to see her. I thanked her for the letters she had sent, and she told me how well Darien was doing at his lessons. "You'll have to get on down to the pasture while you're here," she added. "Danen's been longing to show you his foal."

Then the doors of the sanctuary opened and the people poured out.

Darien came out with the other children. He had grown much taller. I thought he looked thin and wondered if they were feeding him enough. He seemed to be walking on his own in the midst of them. I had a moment before he saw me and his face closed up.

We embraced, among the crowd coming out of the sanctuary. "How are you?" I asked.

"How is your foal?"

"She's wonderful," he said, his face lighting up again. "She's as beautiful as her mother, and I have called her Keturah."

"That's an unusual name for a horse," I said. The other children giggled.

Darien's back stiffened, and his cheeks flushed red. "It's the name of the star that shone when the White God was born as a man," he explained, in the tone of one explaining that spring grass is green.

"An excellent name," I said, "with her mother being called Starlight." This seemed to redeem my
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idiocy slightly for Darien. He almost smiled.

"And her father is called Maram, after the White God's apostle who was so stubborn, because he is stubborn you know," a boy a few years older put in, very politely. Darien moved a little towards me, away from the boy who had spoken. Arvlid frowned at the boy, and took a breath as if she meant to speak, but kept her silence.

"Well, a very good name," I repeated, as heartily as I could.

"Shall we go and see her now?" Darien asked, turning to me and Arvlid and pointedly excluding the other children. I wondered if they bullied him.

"I have to speak to Raul first," I said, catching sight of him coming towards me, looking almost pleased to see me. "Will you show her to me later? I'll meet you in the stables."

Darien ran off as Raul came up, and Arvlid gathered up the other children and led them off, except the older boy who had spoken. He was almost a young man—I had boys not much older working as grooms and scouts. He lingered near me, by the pool, looking at me and frowning a little.