The wizard at Mecq tst-1

by Rick Shelley

  "Master Fitz-Matthew wore the cross of a crusader," Silvas said softly. "I wonder where he earned it." Bay didn't speak until they had worked their way down the slope into the riverbed.

  "You don't think it was just some wandering sorcerer who took a dislike to the man," Bay said then. It wasn't a question.

  "The web woven around that man took maintenance over time," Silvas replied. "If the Blue Rose has become strong in Blethye…"

  "Yet you mention this crusader," Bay noted. "Do you think the Blue Rose's connection to Mecq may lie elsewhere?"

  "Something had to draw their attention to Mecq," Silvas said. "If Sir Eustace's father served in the crusade against the Blue Rose in Burgundy, or perhaps Blethye himself caught the heresy."

  "But there is no need to look so far afield yet," Bay said.

  "I know. It really doesn't matter where the contagion came from. It must be close now. I need time to think, Bay. One way or another, there is a lot going on here for such a small village. Let's work our way upstream for a bit, then we'll turn back toward Blethye."

  That was all the direction Bay needed. The horse picked his way along the riverbed. The Eyler was just a meager stream meandering along the deepest part of its bed, rarely more than a yard wide or two feet deep. Bay stopped to take a drink.

  "There's nothing evil about the water," he said. "It's just muddy from being so low."

  Silvas looked down at the water. The Eyler could hold a flow more than one hundred times as great and not come close to spilling over its banks. If the Eyler had been running normally, the water would have been over the heads of both Bay and Silvas. But now… the bottom of the mill's water wheel was six feet above the current water level, and the remnant of the Eyler didn't even run under the wheel. The layers of dirt caked on the blades of the wheel showed how long it had been since it was usable.

  "This is far enough," Silvas said when they passed under the bridge that crossed the Eyler just upstream from the village. "Let's take a look at the other end and take a climb up Mount Balq."

  Bay picked up his pace as they retraced their steps and went on beyond the point where they had come down. The only change in the nature of the riverbed was an increase in the size of the rocks. Closer to the flanking hills, some of the mud had caked up behind rocks, leaving others clear. Silvas gained no inspiration from the ride.

  "The smell of evil is here," Bay said when they were halfway between the village and the twin hills. "But it's no stronger here than it was on the ridge when we first saw this place. The smell is vague, not centered on the Eyler."

  "I suppose it is possible that the fall of the Eyler was unconnected to the other troubles," Silvas admitted, though he didn't believe that. "It could be that the Blue Rose merely took advantage of a natural event. Perhaps something upstream happened to divert the flow of water."

  "Whether or not they were originally connected, they must be interwoven now," Bay said. "The Duke of Blethye blocked Mecq's attempt to solve their water problems." Bay picked his way up the Balqside bank, cautiously but without great hesitation.

  "The water that remains moves swiftly enough," he added.

  "A dam should hold enough water for Mecq," Silvas said. "If only they could defend a dam against Blethye."

  "Not against Blethye, against the Blue Rose," Bay said.

  "I guess I am assuming that Blethye is under their influence," Silvas said. "But if Blethye is a typical marcher lord, he might make the same stand even without heresy. 'This river is mine, every drop of it.' I've seen that attitude all too often. Even His Majesty is not totally immune."

  "If you're going to eat that food I'm carrying, now would be a good time," Bay said. They had reached the base of Mount Balq. There was a little shade, and a little grass.

  "Meaning that you're ready to eat." Silvas managed a soft chuckle.

  "I don't have a feast at Castle Mecq to look forward to," Bay said. "The stable boys up there aren't all that free with their fodder."

  "They've had drought here, remember?" Silvas said, enjoying the moment's respite.

  He dismounted and pulled the saddlebag off from behind the saddle. He sat in the shade with his back against a large boulder. He had little appetite, but he pulled out the bread, meat, cheese, and wine that had been packed for him. He arranged everything next to him and ate sparingly, mostly just looking up into the sky.

  The Eyler River, pitifully short on water. Berl, hurt almost to the death by a bitter magic. The Blue Rose Cult. Silvas's own unusual abduction and return in the night, stolen away without his body.

  I don't have enough pieces to the puzzle yet, Silvas thought. It didn't matter how he sorted the bits he already had. The picture remained incomplete.

  "It's not just the river," Silvas said after he had done all of the eating and thinking he could take without interruption. "I don't think it's even mainly the river. The Blue Rose is encroaching more and more deeply into the lives and souls of the people here. They have power behind them now."

  "Power they didn't have when Pope Innocent had them driven from Burgundy?" Bay asked.

  "It would seem so." Silvas stood and stretched. "Have you had enough of this dry grass?"

  Bay snorted.

  "Then it's time we looked at the demesne of the Duke of Blethye." Silvas looked up the slope of Mount Balq. "It shouldn't be a difficult climb." There was a scattering of steep rock outcroppings, but the slope was mostly gentle. Silvas could see the narrow tracks where cows and sheep had grazed along the side, though not recently.

  "Mount up," Bay said. "We've wasted enough time today. You still have a dinner engagement to make."

  Bay took the slope as directly as he could, picking his way toward the shoulder of Mount Balq that overlooked the river. Some three hundred feet up, there was a ledge that extended around the end of the ridge.

  Silvas dismounted when they reached that ledge, thirty feet below the level of Castle Mecq on the other hill, and walked around to look down on the land of the Duke of Blethye. Bay followed him.

  "We should have made this trek in the morning," Bay said. "Now we'll have the sun in our eyes."

  "Not completely," Silvas replied. Most of the valley beyond lay to the northwest. The sun came in from the side.

  "Who would believe that Mecq lies next to that," Bay said. The valley beyond was lush with green and gold, even so late in summer. The grain fields were full of tall wheat and rye. The pastures had plenty of green grass and fat flocks and herds.

  "It is a rich land," Silvas said. "Yet the duke begrudges Mecq its water. To look at it, they would never miss a drop if the Eyler stopped flowing through the gap completely."

  "That is evil," Bay said.

  Silvas went to the edge of the ledge and looked down. The sides of the twin hills that face Blethye were much steeper than the sides facing Mecq. No human army could come over that barrier. They would have to come through gaps, like that which carried the Eyler.

  "Give me a few moments to study this place," Silvas said. He focused his telesight and scanned the greener valley as closely as he could, gazing farther away with each pass. There were villages, churches, a broad strip of forest almost due north of Silvas's vantage, and two impressive castles, both set behind broad moats that lacked nothing in the way of water. Occasionally Silvas narrowed his vision enough to let him study the faces of people his eyes happened across in the distance. Simple faces. There was no great evil written on any of them that Silvas saw.

  He kept up his searching until his eyes ached from long staring. He had to blink repeatedly to ease them.

  "I can feel the aura of power over the land," he said when he finally turned back to Bay. "Nothing identifies it as the Blue Rose, though. There is simply nothing definite to the feeling."

  "They do not think themselves strong enough to wear their evil openly yet," Bay said. "You wouldn't expect notices posted on every tree."

  "But there is too much power, Bay, even for a congregation gone over to the Blue R
ose. That would mean, at most, a few minor adepts of any power. I might expect this level of power over the Seven Towers." Silvas mounted Bay and turned him toward the slope leading back into the valley of Mecq.

  "This might really be it, the place where we face our climactic battle." And that did not express Silvas's true feeling, the absolute conviction that this was indeed the place for that fight.

  "It might," Bay said neutrally. "But I repeat my advice. We shouldn't run to such conclusions too soon. There might be great evil here indeed, but perhaps not the great evil you were trained to meet."

  Silvas sighed. "There is always that darkness. It plagues me no end." His voice betrayed his frustration. "How can I prepare for the unknown?"

  – |Silvas lapsed into a silence that lasted until they were on the last switchback leading up to the castle of Sir Eustace Devry. Silvas needed that time to force his mind away from the recurrent frustration that came from his pledge to his Unseen Lord. Despite that Silvas knew that he would not wish himself free of the vow. It let him do what he wanted to do in life-even if the price was a constant uncertainty.

  I've had many a year to use the gifts, he reminded himself. Auroreus had trained him well. The old wizard had made his own arrangements with the Unseen Lord, different from the vow extracted from Silvas. Conditions were different then. There was no grand Empire of the English, no Holy Roman Empire. At times, especially of late, Silvas had difficulty remembering just how different the world had been when he became Auroreus's apprentice, and how much different yet it must have been when Auroreus took his initiation and made his promises to the Unseen Lord. Tiberius ruled in Rome. Christ still walked among mortal men. And when Auroreus brought Silvas to the Seven Towers, the Roman Empire had fallen in the west. The Glade was far beyond the pale of civilization. The Norsemen had yet to begin their ravaging. Silvas had won his initiation long before the first Viking raiders followed the coastline around from Daneland to the Celtic kingdoms on the north and northwest shores of Europe, to the area that was then called Angleterre, the country of the Angles. Mostly the Celtic warlords had been a match for the Norsemen, but there had been a couple of powerful sea kings who had managed to forge their way inland almost as far as the Glade. And other adventurers had come by land, crossing through the low country of the Frisians into Scotland and Northumbria.

  "We've seen a lot, you and I," Silvas said softly. Bay merely bobbed his head up and down. Silvas wondered, as he had so often, if the horse could read his mind.

  We have seen a lot, Silvas thought. From a half-dozen kingdoms hard put to survive the onslaught of the Celtic tribes of Wales, Ireland, and Scotland on one side, and the relentless press of Franks and Teutons on the other, Angleterre had become England, unified by Egbert and his successors, until the French marriage of Ethelred II and the Norman dynasty that followed him extended the English sway beyond the estuary of the Thames and the Rhine, down the French coast to the Loire and beyond.

  "Here comes the wizard."

  The loud voice above his head gave Silvas a start. He looked up and around. They were almost at the gate of Castle Mecq. A sentry on the wall had called out.

  "Well, I was invited," Silvas mumbled. Then he chuckled. "Almost a nap," he said in the same undertone. Let Bay make of that what he might.

  Henry Fitz-Matthew came out to greet Silvas, not that he offered much of a greeting. "Good day, sir. My lady asked me to see to you."

  "Thank you, Master Fitz-Matthew," Silvas said. "Lady Eleanora was most gracious yesterday."

  The stable boy who had been so hesitant to deal with Bay the day before showed no reluctance to take the horse's reins today.

  Inside, Fitz-Matthew announced Silvas, and Eleanora came toward the door. She had been supervising servants working in the great hall.

  "I am delighted that you could come, Lord Silvas," she said. "I was afraid you might have second thoughts."

  "How could I stay away?" Silvas bowed, mostly to cover the trace of a smile he couldn't keep from his face. The great hall showed the marks of a lot of work in the past twenty-four hours. Several layers of soot had been removed from the walls. The tables, chairs, and benches had all been scoured. Fresh torches were in the sconces. Two metal candle stands had been brought in to flank the head table. Fresh straw had been strewn on the floor. I'd wager that Sir Eustace has done a fair amount of grumbling over the bother, Silvas thought. Then he chastised himself for taking pleasure at the thought of the thane's discomfort.

  "Master Fitz-Matthew has told us about the palace you conceal within your smoke," Eleanora said. "If I did not know him so well and trust him completely, I might think he was spinning gossamer tales."

  The steward had started to edge away from Silvas, trying to be inconspicuous. When Eleanora started talking about him, though, he had to stop.

  "Our Unseen Lord has been generous with me," Silvas said. "Once I have fulfilled my promise to you and to the people of Mecq, you and Sir Eustace must be my guests for dinner."

  "I look forward to that with considerable eagerness." Eleanora smiled widely, but then her face colored a trifle. She fluttered her arms, whether to cool herself or to distract Silvas, he couldn't say. "But come away from the door. Have a seat and a cup of wine. We have a keg of the best vintage from my father's Wessex vineyards."

  Silvas bowed again and accompanied Eleanora to a pair of benches near one of the two fireplaces in the great hall. A servant had apparently been watching for his cue. He brought a tray with two goblets of wine.

  "Sir Eustace will join us shortly," Eleanora said. "He is finishing a bit of business just now."

  Silvas lifted his wine in toast before he sampled the drink. Wessex wines ranged from undrinkable to acceptable. This was one of the better Silvas had tasted. He said so.

  "My deepest thanks. My father is quite proud of it. Our family has been making wine since anyone can remember."

  Sir Eustace entered the great hall, clomping down the stairs. He cleared his throat noisily to announce himself. Silvas stood and turned toward the stairs. He nodded to Sir Eustace and walked across to greet him.

  "Good afternoon, Sir Eustace," Silvas said. "I was just complimenting your wife on this excellent wine."

  "Lord Silvas," Eustace said carefully. "My steward informs me that you are a person of some substance."

  "I have only what our Unseen Lord honors me with. I do what I may to repay that honor." Silvas was surprised that Sir Eustace was attempting to be tactful, but he was prepared to go far to meet that attempt in kind.

  Eustace nodded and called for beer. The servant was much quicker to serve his master.

  "We might as well sit at table," Sir Eustace said. "Supper will be along soon, I trust?" He turned that into a question for his wife.

  She nodded. "Very soon." Eleanora turned to Fitz-Matthew-the steward had maneuvered his way near the stairs by now-and said, "Henry, would you see to the necessaries?"

  "At once, my lady." Henry bowed and quickly scuttled down the stairs, obviously welcoming the excuse to leave.

  "I believe that I have found the source for at least some of the difficulties your people have experienced," Silvas said when they were seated at the table. Sir Eustace had the center chair at the head table, facing the lower trestle. Eleanora was at her husband's right. Silvas was at his left. The wizard assumed that the two other places set at the head table were for Maria and Fitz-Matthew.

  "That is something for one day," Sir Eustace acknowledged, trying not to make the admission sound grudging.

  "A woman came to me to cure her sister's sick husband this morning," Silvas said. "When I tended to him, I discovered that his sickness had been laid on him by an adept of the Blue Rose."

  "The Blue Rose!" Eleanora reacted more quickly to the name than her husband did. She crossed herself and leaned forward to look past Sir Eustace to the wizard. "The Blue Rose here?"

  "Nearby, at least," Silvas said. He turned his attention to the knight then. "You know of the Blue Rose
, Sir Eustace."

  "Of them?" Eustace nodded slowly. "Heretics. My father fought to stamp them out in Burgundy."

  "I suspected as much," Silvas said. "Your steward, he accompanied your father on that crusade?"

  "He did, saved my father's life twice." Sir Eustace frowned and looked down at the table. "The third time, both had run out of luck."

  "Did the Duke of Blethye take the cross for that campaign?" Silvas asked next.

  "Took the cross but did not go," Eustace said. "I know not what excuse he used." He looked up. "Are ye thinking that Blethye is one of these heretics?"

  "I don't know yet, Sir Eustace. I would hate to accuse a man unjustly of such a sin."

  People started coming into the great hall then, soldiers and servants first. The lower table was nearly half full before Sir Eustace's daughter, Maria, came down from above. Finally Fitz-Matthew returned from below. Maria took the vacant seat next to Silvas. Fitz-Matthew sat at the opposite end, as far from the wizard as he could get.

  With more people the great hall became noisy. Special guest or no, Sir Eustace's retainers came for supper in their usual state. Servants quickly brought in food and ale. From several comments that Silvas overheard, this meal was a feast compared to their usual fare. That didn't surprise him.

  Eleanora took the lead at steering conversation at the head table. She had to draw her husband out. Left to his own devices, it was evident that Sir Eustace would have gone through supper without saying a word but to call for more beef or beer.

  "The last news we had of His Majesty, he was in Rouen," Eleanora said at one point. "That was at Eastertide."

  "I'm not sure I've heard anything more recent," Silvas admitted. "Perhaps something about the court planning to return after the spring rains." He shrugged. "Unless there was fighting to be done."

  "Have you ever been to court, Lord Silvas?" Eleanora asked.

  "His Majesty has been kind enough to have received me twice," he replied. That brought stares from all of the others at the head table. "The first time he had heard of me from the deacon at Canterbury. The second time we chanced to be in the same town at the same time. He saw the smoke and came to look." But not to enter, Silvas thought. The king had been unready to pass through the smoke.