by Jo Walton
“No priest will be harmed, but neither will any one god be raised above the others.” I wondered if the gods were there listening. I felt no sign of them. “Nor do I plan to take the pebble at this time.”
Father Gerthmol rocked back on his chair a little, and looked over at Raul, who was again looking out of the window. From the courtyard below the came the cheerful sounds of Fifth and Sixth Pennons starting their morning weapons training. I wished I was out there with them. “And why not?” he asked at last. “All this time we have been struggling towards this Peace in the name of the Lord, and now we have it and still you will not take the pebble?”
“What would it do if I brought the land under the White God against its will?” Urdo asked. “What would it do to my oaths as king? What would it do to my people and to the powers of the land?”
“It would bring them into the light, and make them part of the family of God,” Father Gerthmol said. “No longer would the gods be withdrawn, speaking only to kings and lords; everyone would know themselves and their place in the glory and the love of God.”
“If so they choose,” Urdo said. “But a forced choice is no choice, Father. I would not see those who honestly serve other gods forced from their old ways.”
“You surround yourself with enemies of the Church!” Father Gerthmol said, looking from me to Ohtar and back again. “But see,” he said, more gently, “people who have not seen the light need not be forced to it by your taking the pebble. After all, who but a king can lead the powers of the land into the light, unless it is done by force as Chanerig did it? You can speak to those powers and bring the spirits of the whole island with you.”
“It is not what they want,” Urdo said, firmly. “Understand me, even if I had the power, I would force my gods no more than I will force my people.”
Father Gerthmol looked furious. “What a chance is being wasted!” he said. “I have indeed misunderstood. From the time you were twelve years old you have been steadfastly refusing to take the pebble, but I believed you were a friend all the same. I thought you would come to serve the Lord, and so would the Peace you were making. It seems I was wrong.” He looked again at Raul, and back to Urdo. “While we helped you fight,” he said, bitterly, “we were fighting to bring this land into the light, not for you to have power for your own sake. I have misjudged you, son of Avren.”
“‘It is a king’s duty to his people to make, and keep, and hold peace, within which they may prosper; it is a king’s duty to the gods to listen.’ Thus I swore and thus you witnessed when I took the crown at Caer Tanaga twelve years ago. The land has as much peace as do men, and the land does not clamor to praise the White God forever. I have no power to demand such praise.”
Father Gerthmol stood up in silence and looked at me and at Ohtar. Deliberately, he touched his pebble in a warding gesture. Then he turned and, turning, put up the hood of his robe so that it covered his head. He went to the door. We were all staring at him. When he reached the door he stopped, half turned, and called “Raul!” Raul started. “Come Raul. We must leave now if we are to be in Thansethan tomorrow.”
Raul looked from Father Gerthmol to Urdo, took one step towards the door, stopped, looked again at Urdo and up at the hooded monk. He took another step.
“Raul!” Urdo said, quietly, as if it hurt him to speak.
“I am sworn to obedience,” he said, looking straight in front of him. Urdo opened his mouth but said nothing. Raul took another step. Father Gerthmol went out, and Raul followed.
“Thank you for witnessing, you can go now,” Urdo said, without looking at us. His voice was thick. Ohtar and I looked at each other. I put a hand on Urdo’s shoulder, tentatively. He stood up and walked to the window. “I will speak to you later,” he said. Ohtar took my arm and drew me out of the room. I could see Raul at the end of the passage, by the stairs. Shaking Ohtar off, I ran towards him.
“How could you do that to him!” I said. “After all these years. He needs you, Raul, and you know it.”
“He needs Thansethan,” Raul said, blankly, stopping. Father Gerthmol was halfway down the stairs already.
“He can manage without Thansethan if he must. But he needs you. You’re his friend, his clerk, his brother nearly. How can you just walk away?”
“Would you always put your friends before your gods, Sulien ap Gwien?”
I hesitated. “I don’t know,” I said. “But by all the bright gods, it counts for something that nobody has ever put me in a position where I have to make that choice! It isn’t your god you’re choosing, it’s Father Gerthmol and Thansethan and the Church. That whole quarrel was about letting people find their own way to holiness. But you will do what Father Gerthmol tells you, and not your own heart? You’re not like Marchel, you know you’re not. And you understand him; you can’t walk away like that!”
“I am sworn to obedience. Would you break your armiger’s oath?” There were tears on Raul’s cheeks. “In any case, if I am with Father Gerthmol, maybe I can make him understand Urdo. If I disobeyed, he would see us both as enemies. Tell Urdo that. I might bring him around.” Father Gerthmol was at the bottom of the steps. He called up to Raul. “I must go. Tell Urdo that, and tell him—” He hesitated, took a step downwards. “Tell him he should have listened to me, and I love him.” He brushed away tears, smiled grimly, put up his hood, and clattered down the stairs after Father Gerthmol.
33
“Secrets only remain secret if very few people know them.”
—Caius Dalitius, The Relations of Rulers
I don’t think anything ever distressed Urdo as much as Raul leaving. Ohtar had more sense than I did and didn’t waste time running after Raul. He went and got Elenn, and she went in to Urdo. Neither of them came out until it was nearly time for the evening’s feast, so it wasn’t until then that I told Urdo what Raul had said. He listened to me, and said, “Thank you, Sulien,” and went on. He looked terrible. I have had armigers take grief like that after losing a close comrade in battle. We deal with it by pouring strong drink down them and all mourning together. It almost always works. I knew it wouldn’t work that time. Raul wasn’t dead, he had left of his own will.
It was three years before Raul came back. Urdo got over the shock slowly, but it was a blight on what should have been happiness for him. He worked on his law code, and he started to implement ideas he had had years before. Yet all the time I could feel him reaching out for Raul, as an armiger who has lost an arm will keep reaching for it and remembering. Thansethan would no longer help Urdo, and though that was a heavy blow, it was less of a loss.
Those three years were peaceful ones for me. The war in Demedia rumbled on for two of them. We raided the coast of Oriel, using Ohtar’s ships and landing a pennon or so at a time. They would land, kill the few who dared to stand against them, and scatter those who fled, take whatever plunder looked valuable and portable, then burn everything. We did it after the spring planting, and again as soon as the harvest was in. When Ayl heard the details of what we had done he shuddered and said to me if he had known Urdo could be so ruthless he would never have taken up arms against him. I think he wanted to know why we hadn’t done this with the Jarnsmen. I don’t know if Urdo ever told him.
After two years of this and of defeats in Demedia Atha ap Gren sued for peace and passage back to Tir Isarnagiri. Needing to ask passage, after we had burned their ships, must have been the last humiliation. She swore to Angas she would never set foot in arms in Demedia again. She was ruling all of Oriel by then, some of it in trust for her son. Black Darag was dead, we heard, killed by Larig, who was then in turn killed by one of Darag’s men.
Thus perished the only one of Thurrig’s children to live an honorable life. Chanerig was still in Tir Isarnagiri, founding churches and meddling in politics. He kept sending furious letters whenever our raids happened to kill or capture any of his converts. Marchel and her ala had been disgraced after the massacre of Varae. Urdo said that what she had done was unac
ceptable for a civilized person, she no longer had his confidence or friendship. She was exiled, never to return, and she could never hold or inherit land in Tir Tanagiri. I think he only gave her her life for Thurrig’s sake. Her ala was broken up, the armigers scattered among the other alae, mostly those in Demedia. Her officers were all returned to the ranks. She had given the order, but they had carried it out. There was no longer an ala of Caer Gloran. Urdo made them cut their banners and Marchel’s praefecto’s cloak into strips and wrap them around sticks and thrust them into a fire like a funeral pyre. They wept as they did it, all but Marchel, whose face stayed set rigid. This shocked all of my armigers. Urdo talked to everyone of signifer rank and above who could get to Caer Tanaga about what an order was and when it should be questioned. I was very glad I took my orders from Urdo himself and had no need to wrestle with such things.
Amala went with Marchel to Narlahena. Ap Wyn and her children went with them. Thurrig looked ten years older after they took ship. He went back to his fleet, and we did not see him often. Amala was not disgusted with Marchel but with Urdo for disgracing her daughter for something she could not see as important. She had never really understood Tir Tanagiri, and I hoped she would be happier in her homeland. Ap Wyn and the boys returned after a year or two, without saying anything to anyone. Veniva mentioned to me in a letter that they had arrived one day on a ship from Narlahena, stayed a few days with Daldaf, and then gone up to Nant Gefalion. He had not cared for Narlahena much and wanted to get on with his work. I mentioned this to Urdo, who said that only Marchel was exiled and the rest of them could come back at any time.
I did not go to Demedia, or to raid Oriel. I stayed in Caer Tanaga with the ala. We trained hard, until we were even better than we had been. There had probably never been an ala as good as we were in those first years of the Peace. We could turn on an arrowhead and we keep spears lined up so straight charging that the points were not a handbreadth before each other. Some of the veterans left to settle down and have babies. To some of these Urdo gave gifts of land and horses and told them to be ready to come back to the banner if they were needed. Others stayed in the alae but went to join other alae stationed nearer to their homes. Some were very restless without fighting and begged to be sent to Demedia. I had some sympathy for them and sent them up to ap Erbin. In return he sent us his tired and lightly wounded armigers. I learned later this gave us a reputation among the Isarnagans for having tireless and invulnerable troops. There were always people in other alae who wanted to come to us, too. After all, they knew we were the best. We also took in recruits. Once they had the basic skills I spread them among the pennons, where they worked hard until they were as good as the veterans. Some of them were better.
Ulf took to his silly ax as if he had been born with it in his hand. Some of the others in his pennon asked if he would make them axes, so we ended up with almost as many axes as longswords in that pennon after a year or so. Urdo spoke to me seriously about Ulf and made me promise not to drive him harder than the others. I did not, nor had I intended to. I drove them all hard, and myself with them. I avoided seeing Ulf alone, but I did not torment him. He became a formidable warrior and a loyal and steady armiger. He had a tendency to have nightmares and wake half the barracks screaming, but he took teasing about this in good part. Alswith asked me quite seriously if I had cursed him, but I told her firmly that any grudge between me and Gunnarsson had been settled at Foreth. Among the others he became quite popular. The Queen liked him, too. When Urdo could not ride with her, she would always take an escort from the ala; and she often chose Ulf. He was nobly born, and his conversation amused her. I could say nothing against it without telling her things I had sworn had been ended. All the same I let her know that I could not eat with Ulf. There were plenty of people in the same situation for bloodfeuds old and new, so it did not cause remark, she just made sure never to invite us into her alcove at the same time. Even Urdo seemed to show him some respect, consulting him now and then about Jarnish issues.
Morthu of Angas was the other notable recruit. He seemed to shape up well enough, though his skills were not outstanding, and I paid little attention to him. I did not like him. He was not an heir to land, yet he acted like one, and somehow the others treated him like one. He seemed to have a great ability to get on with people, though he never bothered to exert this skill on me. I guessed that he blamed me still for his mother’s death. It did not cross my mind that he was holding a real grudge against me still, or against Urdo. I thought that he was a very young man who would learn better. Yet even then I would often see him with a group of armigers, talking and laughing, and when I drew near they would fall silent. He spent time out of the ranks, going when he could to see his sister in Aylsfa or to Thansethan where he had friends. He was also a great letter writer, sending great sealed messages whenever the red-cloaks went off. I did not then think anything of this except that he was in love with his own importance.
We had very little real fighting to do. We fought off the occasional raiders, and there were fewer raiders every year now that Ayl was offering land to those Jarnsmen who would settle in Aylsfa and call him lord. We talked about raiding Jarnholme the way we were raiding Oriel, once the Isarnagan war was over, to discourage the raiders. Many of them had learned already that attacking Tir Tanagiri meant death and turned to raiding other less-defended shores. Meanwhile we trained, we practiced formations and drills, we played war games, one half of the ala against the other, and on ceremonial occasions we paraded.
There were a number of ceremonial occasions. Garah married Glyn the summer after the Battle of Foreth. This set off a spate of ala weddings. Urdo gave Glyn and Garah a house just inside the gates of the citadel of Caer Tanaga. I was amazed how many people gave them gifts—all the praefectos sent something and many of the armigers. I was very glad for Garah. I gave them a chest of new linen from Derwen and two plates, newly made by the potter at Caer Tanaga, black and lustrous, as good as anything the king ate from. I also made Garah’s plait-bread—it was a little untidy. Veniva had always made it look so easy, folding the bread over and over on top of the fruit while talking about something else. But nobody complained. Garah’s parents came down from Derwen for the ceremony. They looked very shy and unsure of themselves, and her mother wept when she saw how splendid Garah looked in her orange dress. “Like a lord,” she said. She would have been even more impressed if she had seen Elenn with the needle in her teeth, sewing it with pearls and gold thread every evening for two months before. It was a splendid present, good enough for an heirloom. I remembered Garah’s mother giving me a cup of milk when I had come into her kitchen after the attack on Derwen, and I stayed close to them throughout the feasting, guiding them through it.
About a month after that, Ayl married Penarwen of Angas, at Caer Tanaga, with prodigious feasting. Gwilen ap Rhun made Penarwen’s plait-bread, and she also made up a fertility charm. She had once been key-keeper of Caer Tanaga, and Urdo’s leman, and she had gone up to Demedia when Urdo married to look after one of Angas’s fortresses on the western coast. There she had become friendly with Penarwen, and now she came down to Aylsfa with her. Elenn still did not like her, although she always behaved very politely towards her. Their wedding was conducted in the church by Mother Teilo, who had come down from Demedia specially. She let Urdo feel the sharp side of her tongue more than once, but it seemed she was more willing than Thansethan to have dealings with us.
Teilo told Ayl at the wedding feast that now he was married to Penarwen he should adopt a banner in Vincan style. Banners were not a Jarnish custom, but since Guthrum had taken up his silver swan Ayl was the only king on Tir Tanagiri who did not fly one. He had a strange blue standard with a dragon’s head on the top which he used as a rallying point in battle. He had the same dragon carved on his ship’s prow. Ayl smiled at Teilo and promised to consider it. The next time we saw him he had tied great streamers of light red cloth behind his dragon’s head. They certainly caught the wind
like banners, but the effect was peculiarly more barbaric than the beast had been alone. The color was one made from a root that only grew in Aylsfa, so it was a good choice in that way. When I congratulated Ayl on his banner he laughed and said that he had done it for his lady wife. I don’t think anyone at Caer Tanaga ever got up the courage to ask the very regal Penarwen if she was pleased by it.
It was a summer noted for weddings and for abundant harvests. It seemed the land was pleased with Urdo. That year and the year after were noted for babies, too. Penarwen had a son almost exactly nine months after the wedding, and Garah was nursing her new daughter when the news came in. Masarn’s wife had another child, too, a daughter this time, and Masarn was delighted. He liked children. He said he’d even have liked a fifth, if it were possible. I reminded him of the Vincan general Quintus, who was a fifth-born child. He had left the ala by then and was helping his wife with her beekeeping and candlemaking. I missed his steadiness as tribuno, but I still saw him often. Occasionally he would even come to practice, though he would never admit that he missed the ala. He called his new baby Sulien in my honor, and I was delighted. Emer ap Allel also bore a daughter that summer, who in later years became the greatest praefecto of her day and one of my dearest friends. At the time the news meant little to me, though I wished Emer well. I had heard no news of Conal since I left Derwen. I guessed that he was back with Black Darag, in Demedia, killing my friends. We stopped talking about the spate of babies when we saw that it distressed Elenn, whose arms were still empty. In any case there were so many babies born every year in the Peace that we almost got used to it.
I was a little lonely in that time. Urdo was very busy, and Elenn had cooled to me for some reason. Garah and Glyn had the baby, and soon another, which kept them occupied. The ala was not as friendly a place for me as it had been, with Ulf and Morthu there. Though I name them together they were not friends. Indeed Morthu seemed to dislike and distrust Ulf and Ulf plainly despised Morthu. I took comfort in training and in breeding and raising horses, which has been one of my passions ever since. I had friends at hand when I needed them, just not as much companionship as I would have wished in my daily life. But I was not unhappy.
