The Sword Saint

by C. F. Iggulden

  ‘Then trade, Father,’ Prince Louis said. ‘Instead of war, let me make peace with them. You have not seen the new walls around the city, nor the merchant ships like fat wasps on the river, flitting in and out at all hours of the day and night. Let them be an engine for wealth, perhaps to fund the campaigns you still plan. Doesn’t that make sense?’

  The king came closer and Prince Louis tried not to recoil as he felt the man’s breath on his face. It was always slightly sweet.

  ‘I could have whatever falls from their table, yes. Or I could take it all.’

  ‘But why? You have already conquered lands and cities and … mountains. What do you need with more? Will you spend your whole life in the saddle, riding to battle?’

  To Louis’ surprise, his father suddenly laughed.

  ‘I think I might, if I could remain young as well. Galloping on stone and heath, breaking a fighting line. Those are for men whose joints don’t ache on cold mornings, whose lungs don’t wheeze in the winter months. No, son, I need a little more than that to be content. It is summer now – and I am strong in summer. It is my season. Come on, I reek of horse sweat and I am hungry. Come and eat something with me.’

  The king gave a low whistle and three of his rangers stepped in to secure the warhorse and lead it back to its stable. Louis noticed the animal was still watching his father. As they walked, the horse’s ears suddenly dropped flat and it pulled away from one of the rangers. It looked as if a rat had scurried beneath its hooves, though Louis saw nothing.

  ‘That is a fine destrier,’ he said in genuine appreciation.

  ‘Ox-head? He will be, when I have gentled him. My beloved Benedictus is twenty years old. If his son is only half the horse his father was, it will still be good enough. He just needs to learn to trust me.’

  Prince Louis knew his father was capable of layering his meaning – speaking of one thing while teasing out something else. He wondered if he was meant to blindly trust the king, or if he would have to be broken first. It was a troubling thought.

  King Jean Brieland took off his dark yellow gloves and tossed them to one of his servants trotting alongside. They anticipated his needs well, Prince Louis thought. Perhaps that was the lesson.

  ‘I am forty-four years old, Louis. In some ways I am in my prime – in planning, in all I have learned. I have not wasted my life! Yet in other ways, I am closer to the end than the beginning.’

  He glanced at his son, expecting the young man to object. Instead, Louis merely walked on, a frown on his face. The king sighed.

  ‘And so it is not too hard to look ahead, to think … how will the world be, once I am gone? I know, I know – your mother always said it was a kind of madness. She said it was a sign of my lack of trust – that I try to order the world because I do not believe anyone else is capable. She was a woman of rare wisdom, Louis. But she is dead – and all that wisdom is gone into the earth. So I plan ahead and ahead, and ahead. Do you understand? No, not yet. But you will. Strong men breed weak sons, all too often. Yet if you are mine, I have not broken you too hard, have I? If you live long enough, you will stand one day before my tomb and you will speak my name and weep.’

  ‘I swear I will,’ Prince Louis said.

  ‘And I hope I will hear it! I hope there is something more – anything. I have read fanciful tales, of punishments for the sinful dead, of lakes of fire and torment … and all I could think was how wonderful it would be! How magnificent to know there is more. If one day I burn for my sins, Louis, my balm will be the knowledge that this world is not all there is. That will cool me well enough, I think.’

  ‘You will not burn,’ Prince Louis said softly.

  ‘No? Why not? I have burned others. It would be fitting, if there is any justice in the world at all.’

  Your mind is wandering. Look at his worry, his confusion! Speak clearly, Jean Brieland. Let him see you need him.

  ‘My point, Louis … my point, is this. There were nations once, so long ago that pages crumbled as I read them, sifting into dust. Not just one or two cities, but many. A dozen, a hundred like Darien. Not living as slaves, but as brothers …’ The king stopped and gripped the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed. ‘Nothing lasts for ever, Louis. But those nations came close. They were all born from small kings, bonded in blood and conquest into something much greater. Bordered by sea or mountain, or great river. On one side, a mighty people under a single crown; on the other – strangers, foreigners. Is it not a grand dream? I have half a dozen cities in the north. They call me king, though some still lick the wounds I gave them. Perhaps it is true I’ll never know peace, Louis! I don’t mind that life you mentioned – always in the saddle, always riding to war – because you or one of your brothers will inherit a nation. When the wounds have all healed at last, when we have one or two capitals and our roads stretch to the mountains in the east and the sea in the west, we’ll have made something new. No, something old in the world, something reborn. And it will last, because it will be too strong to fail.’

  Prince Louis saw the light in his father’s eyes and felt it kindle his own, colder heart in turn. The man had always been able to do so, when he talked of creating new lines of horses bred for war, or roads connecting every village and city, so that no one was alone and all men could be reached. King Jean Brieland was inspiring because he believed his own dreams.

  ‘Of course he sees now!’ the king growled suddenly. ‘Do you see, Louis? Do you understand why I cannot have a mere alliance with Darien? I cannot swell a nation around them, leaving them to grow untended. Nations end in mountains and the sea, not on friendly borders. Not if I make it to last. When I am gone, I want a golden age, of peace and wealth for a thousand years. I want the lands around Darien to grow crops and boys to be my soldiers. So no city-state, no small king, can ever rise up and cast us down again. That will be my balm, while I sit in flames and laugh and laugh.’

  The king glanced waspishly aside, though Louis had not said anything.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, Louis. You have not wasted these months. Your skill, your negotiations, will have lulled them to sleep. I can hardly believe they didn’t just flog you and send you back for your impertinence. Did you spend all the gold I gave you? Or is there a sum to be returned to the treasury?’

  ‘All you gave – and more. I staked Aeris for his vote, but I had to borrow it back on a bet.’

  The king paused and relief washed the tension from his gaze.

  ‘How much?’

  The prince steeled himself to reply.

  ‘Four thousand in gold. I bet on Emil to win a bout, but he … failed.’

  The king waved the loss away.

  ‘There it is. Why did you not say before? I can nail a man up on four thousand, Louis. Whether I owe it to him, or he owes it to me. Debts are the destroyer of friendships, son. They can even be the lever that tips us all into war.’ He tapped his fingers on the raised sections of the belt as he thought. ‘Don’t worry so much, Louis! There is never just one plan.’

  8

  Memory

  Food and wine had passed across the table in a number of courses. The duck had been edible, though overdone, as the king’s chef had warned. The man himself had delivered the dishes to the table, then waited for some word of satisfaction in a most irritating manner. Xi-Hue had rebuked him with a slight frown as he’d tasted the first mouthful, though the taste had been delicate enough. The chef had been almost in tears as he’d left.

  Conversation had been light for the duration of the meal. Xi-Hue accepted his host’s right to command the subject, of course. To please him, the ambassador had regaled the young king with stories of the court and society of Shiang. The ability to spin a tale was one of his talents and some of the other guests spilled wine as they snorted with laughter. No serious business had been discussed, for which the ambassador was grateful. He enjoyed the theatre of a grand meal in fine surroundings. It was such a shame to spoil it with work.

  It was hard to judg
e the lateness of the hour when the king dismissed the other diners and ushered Xi-Hue and Tellius into his private chambers. The windows were dark, with no moon visible to reveal the city beyond. There too, Xi-Hue had been impressed. He liked wood and the chambers were panelled and warm, with thick carpets underfoot. They had the look of formal staterooms still, rather than the lair of a young boy. Xi-Hue had wondered for one horrible moment if he might encounter a wooden horse, or coloured building blocks, so that he’d had to stifle an urge to smile. Yet for all his apparent youth, the king seemed completely at ease in those surroundings. Servants filled glasses with a palatable red wine and the fire warmed them as they sat and gazed at the flames. Xi-Hue doubted they were truly alone. The king would surely fear an assassin. Yet the last of the servants left a decanter on a low side table where Tellius could reach it, then closed the double doors.

  Xi-Hue looked up. He felt warm, relaxed, full and a little sleepy. For a few moments, he imagined his two young sons being crushed by a cart, calling for their father. It always helped to sharpen his wits, though he thought they were more likely to be asleep in their beds.

  ‘You have been a very generous host, Your Majesty,’ Xi-Hue ventured. ‘Darien is so far from my home, I was not sure what to expect.’

  ‘Though it grows closer, every day,’ Arthur murmured. He had not touched any wine, Xi-Hue noticed. For one so small, perhaps it was too strong a drink.

  ‘Closer, Your Majesty?’ Xi-Hue asked.

  ‘The road, Xi-Hue. It takes, what, three or four months now to make the crossing in summer? Half of that is still over rough land and forests, with a mountain pass hardly worth the name. Our road will widen that pass and halve the journey time, with way stations and taverns all along the route for weary travellers. Darien and Shiang do indeed grow closer every day.’

  ‘Your Majesty is very wise, of course,’ Xi-Hue said. He did not show his concern, so he was surprised when Tellius broke in.

  ‘An army would also be able to use the road, don’t you think? When it is finished. I’d say there was an even chance we’ll meet in the middle. Neither Shiang nor Darien will want to be surprised, so they’ll have marching ranks set off as soon as there’s a good route through. We should prepare the spot now, perhaps. Some sort of stone marker for where our forces will meet.’

  Xi-Hue looked in concern from one to the other, unsure if they were toying with him or whether it was a real threat. He saw a glimmer of amusement in Tellius, but the boy-king was surprisingly hard to read.

  ‘I believe you are expressing a real concern, Your Majesty … er … Master Tellius.’ He had addressed the man who was king of Shiang, but in all his career, Xi-Hue had never met two kings at the same time. It was a little confusing and Tellius laughed as he understood.

  ‘Please, as a countryman, you may call me Tellius when we are alone.’

  ‘And I am “Your Majesty”,’ Arthur added solemnly. Both men looked at him and he sighed. ‘All right. Arthur. For tonight alone, Tellius – and nowhere else. It is good to be king in Darien. I won’t lay it down.’

  ‘The road … is a real concern,’ Tellius went on. ‘Though we will not build all of it. Darien could never complete it without cooperation. It is my hope to persuade the new king of Shiang to meet us halfway on quarry and building costs, which are considerable. I’d like to see that meeting-point stone I mentioned, but in peace. One road, shared, could be a trade route to join us both.’

  ‘Then I would be delighted to take your proposition to the king-in-waiting,’ Xi-Hue said.

  Tellius reached down to the side of his chair and presented a thick leather wrap to the ambassador.

  ‘It’s all there. Costs, plans, everything. I imagine they gave you all the authority you need, ambassador. It is not an unreasonable demand, not in the circumstances.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Xi-Hue replied. He did not confirm what Tellius had said, though he noted the choice of words. He could feel the weight of a much slimmer wrap in a hidden pocket of his tunic. Could this possibly be the time? He had expected to spend days in Darien, but these men seemed to move quickly.

  As he had the thought, Tellius spoke again, confirming his impression.

  ‘So … which family is to lend its sons to the throne of Shiang?’

  Xi-Hue settled himself and sipped the wine, barely wetting his lips for courtesy now that he knew he would need to be sharp.

  ‘The Hong clan is ascendant. They have gathered the most support, though the Diamatei were a close second, with the eastern nobles. You know Shiang, however, Your Maj … Tellius. Once Lord Hong is confirmed, order will be … retained.’

  Xi-Hue could have pinched himself for coming so close to admitting the bloodshed that had plagued Shiang in recent months. The armies of four noble houses had fought it out on the streets of the city and the surrounding territories. The Hong father and son had brokered alliances with great skill, winning the crown for themselves. All they needed was for Tellius to scratch his abdication in ink on vellum and the city could breathe in relief and peace once more. Xi-Hue had indeed been given considerable leeway to negotiate a settlement. He only hoped it would be enough. He feared the road Tellius wanted might be the least of it.

  ‘Is it a condition that I hand over the Yuan sword?’ Tellius had unstrapped the weapon that lay alongside his thigh, leaning it on the arm of his chair. The scabbard of dark red looked as if it was made of enamelled blood and it fairly hummed with menace. Xi-Hue could not help glancing at it, though he had ignored its presence studiously before.

  ‘It is a symbol,’ Xi-Hue replied. It was answer enough and he saw Tellius was resigned to its loss.

  ‘It won’t work for Lord Hong, of course. It won’t cut the way it does for one of my line.’

  Xi-Hue hesitated only for a moment as he decided whether to reveal the plans of the new royal house. Tellius was being brisk and candid with him and he decided to return the favour.

  ‘I believe Lord Hong’s son is to marry a bloodline cousin of yours. They hope to retain the qualities of the sword for a future generation.’

  Tellius smiled, though he felt a pang at the news. Of course they were planning ahead. Shiang looked into the centuries to come and then worked to bring them about.

  ‘I see. That makes sense. I hope it works. My father carried this sword, as did my brother and his son. It is beyond value, but I will hand it over to you. So … what else? You’ll sign a treaty on behalf of Lord Hong to build your half of the road, I give you the sword he needs to wear for the crowds and the other houses … I sign your abdication. What else were you told to offer me, ambassador? I won’t waste your time. I want Shiang as an ally, especially now we have agreed a trade treaty with the kingdom of Féal. Shiang is almost unknown here, Xi-Hue. Yet it was my home and I would see us brought closer before I die. There, I have told you all.’

  Xi-Hue showed his excitement only in three rapid blinks as he considered and forced himself to be cautious. Tellius was offering everything he wanted, at far greater speed than Xi-Hue had dared to hope. And for what? A road? No matter how great an undertaking it was, Lord Hong would pay it to resolve the impasse at home with the Diamatei faction. He decided to lay out another piece of his offer.

  ‘I have been authorised to grant a royal pension of a thousand a year in gold as well as the right to a title, currently in abeyance. You would retain nobility and an estate in Shiang. It might have some use in later years perhaps, or for your descendants.’

  ‘I have none,’ Tellius said. ‘Yet I will accept. Was there anything else? I am tempted to sign tonight, sir! Let me see an end to this – and the beginning of a new friendship.’

  Xi-Hue began to reach into the inner pocket for the slim leather wrap that contained a single sheet of perfectly white vellum.

  ‘Lord Hong only asked me to enquire about the four swordsmen. Masters Hondo, Bosin, Hi and Je. We’ve had no word of them in our exchange of birds. Do they still live?’

  Lines appeared aroun
d Tellius’ mouth as he considered his reply. He had not answered queries about Hondo and Bosin, nor wanted to consider what might happen if he gave up his right to command their service.

  ‘Masters Hi and Je died two years ago, in defence of this city,’ he said after a moment of silence. ‘There is a statue raised to them on the outer ring road – that area of the city is already known as “The Twins”. I will take you to see it – the only monument to men of Shiang in Darien, ambassador. Masters Hondo and Bosin still live, though … Bosin was damaged in battle. It is hard to explain his exact condition. He is not the man he was.’

  ‘I have never met him,’ Xi-Hue replied, ‘though I heard he was, ah … impressive. I am saddened to hear of the death of the twins. That is a great loss. Yet if Masters Bosin and Hondo are able to return home, Shiang will be the richer.’

  Tellius found his thoughts racing.

  ‘I would like to make their continuing service a condition of my abdication,’ he began, though he felt objections forming as he spoke. He saw concern return to the ambassador. Perhaps having to disappoint him explained why Xi-Hue fell back into formality.

  ‘Your Majesty, they are bound by free oath to the crown of Shiang … and I have orders for them to return home. I cannot accommodate this, though I wish I could. I can go as high as two thousand a year as the pension for service, however, as compensation.’

  It was a fortune, befitting the dignity of a man who had, even briefly, been king of Shiang. Tellius still felt the sting of losing Hondo and Bosin. It was not just the protection and loyalty they gave him. They were men of his home city, almost the only ones in Darien. He did not know if he could call them friends, exactly. He thought Bosin had gone beyond such a concept, to a colder place. Yet they knew streets he had known as a lad, foods he had eaten, all the strange customs and days of celebration. Hondo in particular was a link to home that Tellius had told himself he’d never needed – when Shiang had been somewhere he had escaped. The thought of losing those men was surprisingly painful and Xi-Hue saw it in him and wondered. As the ambassador looked over in concern, he saw Tellius make a hard decision with a sharp nod.