The Ruby Knight (32 page)

‘You did what you had to do, Occuda.'

‘Perhaps, but that does not absolve me of my guilt.'

Sparhawk made a decision at that point. ‘Come with me,' he said.

‘Where are we going, My Lord?'

‘To see the Patriarch of Emsat.'

‘I could not enter the presence of a high churchman with Lady Bellina's blood on my hands.'

‘Patriarch Bergsten is a Thalesian. I doubt that he's very squeamish. We need to see the Patriarch of Emsat,' he told his Thalesian escort. ‘Take us to his tent.'

‘Yes, My Lord.'

The sentry led them through the camp to the pavilion of Patriarch Bergsten. Bergsten's brutish face looked particularly Thalesian by candle-light. He had heavy bone ridges across his brows, and his cheek-bones and jaw were prominent. He was still wearing his mail-shirt, although he had removed his Ogre-horned helmet and stood his axe in the corner.

‘Your Grace,' Sparhawk said with a bow, ‘my friend here has a problem of a spiritual nature. I wonder if you could help him?'

‘That is my calling, Sir Sparhawk,' the Patriarch replied.

‘Thank you, Your Grace. Occuda here was at one time a monk. Then he entered the service of a count in northern Pelosia. The count's sister became involved with an evil cult, and she began to practise rites involving human sacrifice, which gave her certain powers.'

Bergsten's eyes widened.

‘At any rate,' Sparhawk continued, ‘when the count's sister was finally stripped of those powers, she went mad, and her brother was forced to confine her. Occuda took care of her until he could no longer bear her agonies. Then, out of compassion, he poisoned her.'

‘That's a dreadful story, Sir Sparhawk,' Bergsten said in his deep voice.

‘It was a dreadful series of events,' Sparhawk agreed. ‘Occuda feels overcome with guilt now, and he's convinced that his soul is lost. Can you absolve him so that he can face the rest of his life?'

The armoured Patriarch Bergsten looked thoughtfully at Occuda's suffering face, his eyes at once shrewd and compassionate. He seemed to consider the matter for several moments, then he straightened, and his expression grew hard. ‘No, Sir Sparhawk, I can't,' he said flatly.

Sparhawk was about to protest, but the Patriarch raised one thick hand. He looked at the hulking Pelosian. ‘Occuda,' he said sternly, ‘you were once a monk?'

‘I was, Your Grace.'

‘Good. This shall be your penance then. You will resume your monk's habit, Brother Occuda, and you will enter my service. When I have decided that you have paid for your sin, I will grant you absolution.'

‘Y-your Grace,' Occuda sobbed, falling to his knees, ‘how can I ever thank you?'

Bergsten smiled bleakly. ‘You may change your mind in time, Brother Occuda. You will find that I'm a very hard master. You'll pay for your sin many times over
before your soul is washed clean. Now, go gather your possessions. You'll be moving in here with me.'

‘Yes, Your Grace.' Occuda rose and left the tent.

‘If you don't mind my saying so, Your Grace,' Sparhawk said, ‘you are a very devious man.'

‘No, not really, Sir Sparhawk.' The huge churchman smiled. ‘It's just that I've had enough experience to know that the human spirit is a very complex thing. Your friend feels that he must suffer in order to expiate his sin, and if I were simply to absolve him, he would always doubt that he had been thoroughly cleansed. He feels that he has to suffer, so I'll make sure that he suffers – in moderation, of course. I'm not a monster, after all.'

‘Was what he did really a sin?'

‘Of course not. He acted out of mercy. He'll make a very good monk, and after I think he's suffered long enough I'll find a nice quiet monastery somewhere and make him the abbot. He'll be too busy to brood about things, and the Church will get a good, faithful abbot. This is not to mention all those years when I'll have his services at no cost.'

‘You're not really a very nice man, Your Grace.'

‘I have never pretended to be, my son. That will be all, Sir Sparhawk. Go with my blessing.' The Patriarch winked slyly.

‘Thank you, Your Grace,' Sparhawk said without cracking a smile.

He felt somehow very pleased with himself as he and the sentry walked back across the camp. He might not always be able to solve his own problems, but he certainly seemed able to solve those of others.

‘Kring was telling us that the outside of the camp is being patrolled,' Tynian said when Sparhawk re-entered the tent. ‘That's going to make it more difficult to get away, isn't it?'

‘Much more,' Sparhawk agreed.

‘Oh,' Tynian added. ‘Flute's been asking some questions about distances. Kurik looked in the packs, but he couldn't find your map.'

‘It's in my saddle-bag.'

‘I should have thought of that, I suppose,' Kurik said.

‘What is it you want to know?' Sparhawk asked the little girl, opening his saddle-bag for the map.

‘How far is it from this Agnak place to Acie?'

Sparhawk spread his map out on the table in the centre of the pavilion.

‘It's a very pretty picture, but it doesn't answer my question,' she said.

Sparhawk measured it off. ‘It's about three hundred leagues,' he replied.

‘That still doesn't answer my question, Sparhawk. I need to know how long it will take.'

He computed it. ‘About twenty days.'

She frowned. ‘Perhaps I can shorten that a bit,' she said.

‘What are we talking about here?' he asked her.

‘Acie's on the coast, isn't it?'

‘Yes.'

‘We're going to need a boat to get us to Thalesia. Ghwerig's taking Bhelliom to his cave up in the mountains there.'

‘There are enough of us to overpower the sentries,' Kalten said, ‘and dealing with a patrol in the middle of the night's not all that hard. We're still not so far behind that we can't catch him.'

‘We have something to do in Acie,' she told him, ‘- at least I do – and it must be done before we go after Bhelliom. We know where Ghwerig's going, so he won't be hard to find. Ulath, go tell Wargun that we'll accompany him to Acie. Think up some plausible reason.'

‘Yes, lady,' he said with the faintest hint of a smile.

‘I wish you'd all stop doing that,' she complained. ‘Oh, by the way, on your way to Wargun's tent, ask someone to bring us some supper.'

‘What would you like?'

‘Goat would be nice, but anything will do as long as it's not pork.'

They reached Agnak just before sunset the following day and set up their huge camp. The local citizenry immediately closed the city gates. King Wargun insisted that Sparhawk and the other Church Knights accompany him under a flag of truce to the north gate. ‘I am Wargun of Thalesia,' he roared at the city walls. ‘I have King Soros of Pelosia with me – as well as these Knights of the Church. The Kingdom of Arcium has been invaded by the Rendors, and I call upon every able-bodied man with faith in God to join with us in our efforts to stamp out the Eshandist heresy. I'm not here to inconvenience you in any way, my friends, but if that gate isn't open by the time the sun goes down, I'll reduce your walls to rubble and drive you all into the wilderness where you can watch your city burn down to ashes.'

‘Do you think they heard him?' Kalten asked.

‘They probably heard him in Chyrellos,' Tynian replied. ‘Your king has a most penetrating voice, Sir Ulath.'

‘It's a long way from one mountain top to another in Thalesia,' Ulath shrugged. ‘You have to talk very loudly if you want to be heard.'

King Wargun grinned crookedly at him. ‘Would anyone care to wager on whether or not that gate opens before the sun slips behind yon hill?' he asked.

‘We are Church Knights, Your Majesty,' Bevier replied piously. ‘We take a vow of poverty, so we're not really in a position to gamble on sporting events.'

King Wargun roared with laughter.

The city gate opened somewhat hesitantly.

‘Somehow I knew they'd see it my way,' Wargun said, leading the way into the city. ‘Where will I find your chief magistrate?' he asked one of the trembling gate guards.

‘I-I believe he's in the council-house, Your Majesty,' the guard stammered. ‘Probably hiding in the cellar.'

‘Be a good fellow and go and fetch him for me.'

‘At once, Your Majesty.' The guard threw down his pike and ran off down the street.

‘I like Lamorks,' Wargun said expansively. ‘They're always so eager to be obliging.'

The chief magistrate was a pudgy man. His face was pale, and he was sweating profusely as the gate guard bodily dragged him into Wargun's presence.

‘I will require suitable quarters for King Soros, myself and our entourage, Your Excellency,' Wargun informed him. ‘This won't inconvenience your citizens all that much, because they'll be up all night equipping themselves for an extended military campaign anyway.'

‘As Your Majesty commands,' the magistrate replied in a squeaky voice.

‘You see what I mean about Lamorks?' Wargun said. ‘Soros will have smooth going down here. He'll sweep the whole kingdom clean in a week – if he doesn't stop to pray too often. Why don't we go someplace and get something to drink while his excellency here empties a dozen or so houses for us?'

After a consultation with King Soros and Patriarch Bergsten the following morning, Wargun took a troop of Thalesian cavalry and led them towards the west with Sparhawk riding at his side. It was a fine morning. The sunlight sparkled on the lake, and there was a light breeze blowing in from the west.

‘I suppose you're still not going to tell me what you
were doing in Pelosia?' Wargun said to Sparhawk. The Thalesian King seemed relatively sober this morning, so Sparhawk decided to risk his mood.

‘You know about Queen Ehlana's illness, of course,' he began.

‘The whole world knows about it. That's why her bastard cousin is trying to seize power.'

‘There's a bit more to it than that, Your Majesty. We've finally isolated the cause of the illness. Primate Annias needed access to her treasury, so he had her poisoned.'

‘He did
what
?'

Sparhawk nodded. ‘Annias is not overburdened with scruples, and he'll do anything to reach the Archprelacy.'

‘The man's a scoundrel,' Wargun growled.

‘At any rate, we've discovered a possible cure for Ehlana. It involves the use of magic, and we need a certain talisman to make it work. We found out that the talisman is in Lake Venne.'

‘What is this talisman?' Wargun asked, his eyes narrowed.

‘It's a kind of ornament,' Sparhawk replied evasively. ‘Certain people used to wear them.'

‘Do you really put that much store by all that magic nonsense?'

‘I've seen it work a few times, Your Majesty. Anyhow, that's why we objected so much when you insisted that we join you. We weren't trying to be disrespectful. Ehlana's life is being sustained by a spell, but it's only good for just so long. If she dies, Lycheas will take the throne.'

‘Not if I can help it, he won't. I don't want any throne in Eosia occupied by a man who doesn't know his own father.'

‘The idea doesn't appeal to me either, but I think Lycheas does in fact know who his father is.'

‘Oh? Who is it? Do you know?'

‘The Primate Annias.'

Wargun's eyes went wide. ‘Are you sure of that?'

Sparhawk nodded. ‘I have it on the very best authority. The ghost of King Aldreas told me. His sister was somewhat profligate.'

Wargun made the sign to ward off evil, a peasant gesture that looked peculiar coming from a reigning monarch. ‘A ghost, you say? The word of a ghost won't stand up in any court, Sparhawk.'

‘I wasn't planning to take it to court, Your Majesty,' Sparhawk said grimly, resting his hand on his sword-hilt. ‘As soon as I have the leisure, the principals will be standing before a higher judgement.'

‘Good man,' Wargun approved. ‘I wouldn't have thought that a churchman would have succumbed to Arissa, though.'

‘Arissa can be very persuasive sometimes. Anyway, this campaign of yours is directed at another one of Annias's plots. I strongly suspect that the Rendorish invasion is being led by a man named Martel. Martel works for Annias, and he's been trying to stir up enough trouble to draw the Church Knights away from Chyrellos during the election. Our Preceptors could probably keep Annias off the Archprelate's throne, so he had to get them out of his way.'

‘The man's a real snake, isn't he?'

‘That's a pretty fair description.'

‘You've given me a lot to think about this morning, Sparhawk. I'll mull it over, and we'll talk some more about it later.'

A sudden light sprang into Sparhawk's eyes.

‘Don't get your hopes up too much, though. I still think I'm going to need you when I get to Arcium. Besides, the militant orders have already marched south.
You're Vanion's right arm, and I think he'd miss you if you stayed away.'

Time and distance seemed to drag on interminably as they rode west. They crossed into Pelosia again and rode across the unending plains in bright summer sunlight.

One night when they were still some distance from the border of Deira, Kalten was in a bad humour. ‘I thought you said you were going to speed this trip up,' he said accusingly to Flute.

‘I have,' she replied.

‘Really?' he said with heavy sarcasm. ‘We've been on the road for a week already, and we haven't even reached Deira yet.'

‘Actually, Kalten, we've only been on the road for two days. I have to make it
seem
longer so that Wargun doesn't get suspicious.'