There’s nothing to stop us from doing it either, Eleanora realized. Such small flashes of inspiration were welcome indeed, in a rather barren and nonplussed atmosphere. Fine for peace, her ministers were flabbergasted, though hiding it well enough, at the thoughts of a real war—a big war, taking in all the major powers. No smaller power would be entirely safe in such an atmosphere.
Especially a war against Jumalak. His empire covered half the continent. Beyond the Hordes lay nothing but lost and unknown tribes. There lay scattered peoples who lived half underground, in a land of small, bedraggled firs that dripped constantly with moisture. A place where all the rivers ran north, to a place of ice and snow and constantly-smoking volcanoes.
Almost anyone else, they might have handled—given a torrent, a waterfall of blood and treasure.
It was interesting how fear clarified the mind. Eleanora had always thought that a cliché.
Crystallized might be a better word for it.
Theodelinda was consulting some brief notes she had made during the meeting with the King of the Lemni.
She didn’t appear to have any questions, so he mused further.
“The Khan’s mortal enemy lies to the south, in the Empire. The Empire has been quite protective, for their own reasons, of certain small states which the Khan is not very fond of.” These included a couple of republics, an emirate and a principality, as yet independent. “Yet until the present, his power has always been in his land army, which as we know, is estimated by his closest observers at something on the order of two and a half million men.”
While the Empire of the South wasn’t an active threat to the Horde, they would meddle quite a bit in the affairs of small neighboring states, states which the Horde might have an interest in themselves.
Over the last two years, the Khan had been building ships in a great naval yard not far from his capital, Artesphihan. This lay at the eastern end of the Great Sea, dominating the choke-point of the narrows, and which ultimately led to the South Arm. Artesphihan’s harbor had been greatly expanded, which offered many commercial advantages to the Horde. To one such as the Khan, this was secondary to military considerations. Armies always had to be paid for—and he had recently increased all the manifold and often petty excises and tolls along trading routes he controlled.
Most of the soldiers would be on garrison duty. A good proportion of the total were troops raised by his retainers. There was little doubt that the Khan would field a formidable force. With the acquisition of Sinopus, he had a strong advanced base, with good access to the northern sea and a ready-made fleet at his disposal. Sinope was another trading city, and not considered barbarians. Their seamen were as good as any. Located at the northern extremity of the Great Sea, on the landward side, there was not much between here and there. Loosely-organized barbarian states in the middle would either be swept aside, taken under the wing of the Great Khan as allies and auxiliaries, or simply flee before him. To take a solitary stand wasn’t exactly in their best interest. One of the principles of statecraft was to always understand the other fellow’s perspective. They would follow the path of least resistance and, in any pinch, they could be counted on to adhere to their own interests.
Lowren had been right on all counts, Eleanora wasn’t particularly pleased to discover. But her most trusted ministers were all agreeing with him.
The Minister of Foreign Policy spoke next. Eleanora had always seen the sense of not having a Minister of War, but then her policy was not aggressive. It wasn’t passive either, but relied on collective benefits and therefore collective security. Her policy and her alliances had always been in response to major powers such as the Horde, the Empire of the South and other powerful neighbors. The neighbors weren’t necessarily unfriendly, they were merely powerful. They had their own best interests at heart and it didn’t pay to be too weak amongst them. Then the Great Khan had risen above his brethren and welded together a hundred disparate and petty little kingdoms. He had an empire of his own now, and he was only thirty-four years of age. Kullin, Emperor of the South, was in his sixties. According to reports, he did not look well. He had three sons, one lame and one a cretin, only the oldest brother showing any real promise. The boy was only seventeen years old, although he’d been invested with many powers. The Emperor had seven or eight daughters, by three different wives. Most had been married off into families that for the most part had some relatively-clear claim on the throne in their own right. Politically, it was a situation rife with disaster in the event of an early demise on the part of Emperor Kullin.
Eleanora’s heart was sinking faster by the minute.
The time for speculation was at an end. It wasn’t too difficult to see which way that situation was headed. The Empire had aided and comforted the Great Khan’s enemies. Some of the many kings, queens and princes displaced by the Khan were still finding refuge in the Emperor’s own court. He had refused to give them up, with not particularly good grace, and the Khan had never dropped his petition, also not with particularly good grace.
The Emperor’s policy of keeping his neighbors weak and divided would come back to haunt him when the Khan came calling. He didn’t have a friend in the world. When push came to shove, his more distant neighbors would quickly ally themselves with the Khan or make their peace otherwise, in the hopes of being the last to be devoured.
Over the course of the meeting, they all had the chance to speak, although one or two did not.
After a while it devolved into minutiae, which had its place.
General Forbis suggested strengthening the south-east elevation of the outer walls. Water had been at it, and erosion was taking away the topsoil. This had always been the problem of building on a slope, he explained. The land was moving downhill, no matter how slowly, and the fortifications had been neglected to some extent, as times were peaceful and the money was being spent elsewhere.
By the time they were done talking again about the fleet, recruiting, stockpiles, weapons and foodstuffs, it was turning into a very long council session indeed.
After two and a half hours, she adjourned the meeting.
In the next session scheduled for three days hence, she would inform them of Lowren’s proposed plan of attack.
In the meantime, they would have an opportunity to think about the situation.
Chapter Six
The air was heavy with incense, swirling up from thin, resinous sticks of burning gum, stinging the nostrils when a random current of air brought it to them.
The rites of purification were extensive. There was long preparation in the privacy of her bathing chamber, attended only by the purest of her maidens. The most profound of the rituals took place in the Cave of Sighs.
It was said that the cave was never silent, and yet they were over a hundred yards from the entrance. If a person sat there very quietly, they could hear the sighs, which had never been accounted for in purely naturalistic and scientific terms. There was too much noise around them at present. Their journey must take them deeper. Her heart fluttered as she contemplated the possibilities. Perhaps it was the heaving tides inside of some sea-cave, miles away, some kind of underground volcano…or maybe it really was the breath of Gaia, the Mother of the World.
She blew air out through loose lips, nodding slightly as she did so, intent on the words she had carefully memorized.
They stood on a clean rug of deep, red-dyed wool. Around that, white rose petals had been strewn everywhere, petering out into the darkness, away from the torches. They stood in the middle of five torches, planted in the soft and vile stuff that had fallen to the bottom over countless eons. There were two dozen girls in the chorus, all as nude and pale and white as she would be, long dark hair framing their faces and hanging down, offering some modesty in spite of all being revealed.
Under the rug was sand, dirt, dung, decayed cobwebs, dead animals, and above all else, dead bats and the droppings of tens of thousands of their living brethren. The bats, hanging in their clump
s and rows above and all around, were the least of her problems. Broad daylight outside as it was, the bats weren’t going anywhere for a while, although their noise was fairly irritating. Blinded by the torches, they were hanging on for dear life. For that Eleanora was grateful.
While any thinking person knew what an echo was and how it was propagated, this place had always been thought to be sacred. It was all she could do, to tell herself that it was all nonsense and that there was nothing to be feared. Proper forms would be observed, and if the gods were not appeased then hopefully public opinion would. Simply put, she was Queen and the moral responsibility lay with no other.
Theodelinda took her cloak and Eleanora slipped out of her thin white cotton shift, letting it fall to the ground.
Her body had been shaved, from head to toe. Her skin burned with the cleanliness of it, shining red in the glare of the flames when she looked down at herself, suddenly self-conscious. All she wore were her sandals and a garland of daisies around her head, her long, fine red hair intertwined and holding it in place. Her toes were a reminder that she was as human as anyone in the final analysis. No one was more fallible than the Queen, for all things rode on her shoulders.
When I fall, everything falls.
The perfumes she wore clogged the nose, they were so strong, and yet it gave a life to the place, dead and dark and full of dimly-perceived creeping things that squeaked and rustled and moved about in the detritus of the cave floor. Even as she looked dubiously at her sandaled feet, a large beetle, with sparkling green shimmers on his back, ducked under a dead leaf which quivered and crackled with barely perceptible sound.
Her entire body had been oiled from head to foot and most of her hair was tied in a rope that fell straight down her back. She was white, white from chalk and gypsum powder. She was chill, and yet thankful that as yet no sweat had run down and spoiled her perfection.
There was the High Priestess, eyes as black as coals, looking solemn as she poured out a cup of blood and wine. She set that aside on a small, one-legged stick-in table. Taking a vial slung on a string around her neck, she opened it and took a pinch of fine, charcoal-grey powder and put it into the chalice. She then sprinkled the same incense into each flaming sconce. She took one smaller torch, which had been sticking in the ground at her feet, and lit it from a wall torch. She brought the cup to Theodelinda, similarly prepared all in white body chalk, and the obvious choice to accompany her Queen.
“Are you pure of heart?” Those dark eyes studied first Theodelinda, and then Eleanora. “Speak now.”
The woman stepped back, for it was out of her hands now.
“Yes, Priestess.”
Those eyes took in Theo.
“Yes, Mother. Our hearts are pure.”
“Very well. Listen closely, for the voices say many things, and not all of them are meant for you.”
She eyed Theo strangely for a moment.
Eleanora nodded. Theo nodded. All she had to do was hold the torch, and presumably, listen to the echoes, which were thought to be dead people speaking from the other side of the wall of death. Why they would ever want to come here, to such a dismal place was a good question, but of course it was supposedly the door to the underworld. It was a bad idea to laugh hysterically, thought Theo, but what if I can’t help it? She couldn’t help but note the thin edge of fear tickling the insides of her belly. Ellie looked a million times worse, like a rabbit confronted by the coyote.
Eleanora was as ready as she was ever going to get.
She’d been through this once before, as a little girl when all females of noble birth were initiated.
There were other initiates as well, but their path was longer and based solely on merit. The woman before her now was just such a one, purely a commoner and yet with the most comprehensive mind—and few had ever doubted or questioned her right to a position that most did not envy and few had ever aspired to. Eleanora certainly hadn’t.
“Drink, my child.”
Theo’s eyes were big and round and with a bit of white showing where it normally shouldn’t.
Eleanora took the cup from her cousin.
Eleanora lifted the stained wooden chalice, the smell stinging her nose like pure vinegar. The stuff wasn’t quite as bad as might have been expected, although there was quite a kick to it. There was even a vaguely dry, burgundy grape taste somewhere in there. She handed it off to Theo, not even looking at her. She was looking forward, into the red and black tunnel before her, ridges of seamed and eroded rock looking putrid and organic in the flickering and guttering torches.
No, this dark underworld of secrets and incantations was quite outside of her interest. Let them have it, she thought, as the woman nodded in approval, taking the cup from Theodelinda and looking at Eleanora in assessment.
This was in stark contrast to other kings and queens, who were seemingly intent on engrossing every kind of power. For Eleanora to conduct the chorus in song, make the sacrifice or lead the people in prayer was almost unthinkable. At least in her own mind. Hades, it was almost laughable. And yet she had told Lowren that she needed to do this—and for some reason it was more than just a delaying tactic.
Maybe there was something to be learned here after all. At one time, when she was a child, all of this had meant something to her unformed self. It still meant something to a lot of people. Had it really been so long then?
The Priestess took a massive breath, threw her head back, and bellowed out into the darkness.
“So long as your intentions are good, as long as your spirit is pure, as long as your thoughts are clean and your motives are inspired by love, then you may enter. Beware, all of those who are unworthy.”
The effect was astonishing, as a thousand voices, in different tones and even languages it seemed, repeated back and forth and all around and swam all the wrong way inside of her head. The babble of voices and people and animal sounds and waves crashing and thunder and lightning and trees splitting asunder swelled, fell away and swelled again. It became more and more incoherent with each crest.
The echoes in the Cave of Sighs fell to a dull roar, and Eleanora found the courage to speak.
“Thank you, Mother.”
The Priestess’ eyes were black pools in the torchlight as she opened the wicker basket and pulled out the first of their special breed of snakes, all-white and with darting red tongues and black eyes.
While everyone assured her they were completely harmless, there was that sickening lurch in the guts, and it wasn’t just the snake—it was the sudden realization that you were completely naked.
There was something primeval and atavistic in that fear. It was the fear of violation.
Eleanora took one, holding it up and away from her, trying not to squeeze it to death with her tight grip around the neck. It was horrid when the creature curled around her forearm. It wasn’t the snake’s fault she was afraid of it. It was her problem. A helper gave her the other one as the Priestess and her acolytes nodded in approval. They went silent and then began a dull, throbbing chant that belied its coming forth from the throats of women. Their helper quickly rejoined on the end of the line, picking up on the beat and now apparently ignoring the royal ladies if that was possible.
The echoes swelled and strengthened, becoming a roar again.
It was like drums beating in her head, and her body tingled all over as a sudden wave of fear swept over her.
She took a deep breath, as there was no backing out now. She was just being silly. It was just a dirty old cave full of bat droppings and in a half-hour or so they would be able to come out. With a little luck, they would never have to do it again.
The Priestess raised her hands and the chorus fell silent.
“Begin.”
Eleanora began speaking the ancient words in the ancient tongue, as it was used all those eons ago, and with Theodelinda and her torch throwing her crazy black shadows every which way, she slowly led off with measured steps, following the rose petals into the da
rkest recesses of the unknown.
O Gaia Matrem totius mundi
Neptunus et Pater omnium fugasset
Nudus sumus coram te,
Nos filii Dei verbum
Sequimur per semitas iustitiae
Inquisitores in via sumus,
Iuppiter Pater, de sapientia,
Et petimus, et inveniamus
Rogamus et nos accipere
Gratias Deo pro munere tuo,
Et amor qui cadit, et stellas.
Oh, Gaia, Mother of all the World
And Neptune, Father of all the Seas
Naked we stand before thee
We are the children of the word
We follow the paths of righteousness
We are seekers of the path
Jupiter, Father of Wisdom
We seek and we shall find
We ask and we receive
We are grateful for thy bounty
And the love that falls from the stars.
This part was different. As little children, the Priestess and a party of initiates had held their hands and been with them in the forbidding darkness. She couldn’t quite locate the place where they had actually stopped, although the memory seemed quite firm and detailed.
This time, they were entirely on their own, and perhaps that was fitting enough considering their rank and position.
If you couldn’t get through a silly little ceremony like this, then you were obviously not very suited to the work.
At least that’s what Eleanora told herself as the chant started anew, and the ceiling lowered, the sides narrowed, and then they were at the first corner.
With a quick pause for breath, she kept speaking. To the eyes of those watching from behind, they quickly went out of sight.
***
They were following a single passage, thankfully one with no openings to left or right. The way was marked by more white rose petals underfoot and Theo thought she could even catch the odd whiff of them.
The Conqueror Page 6
