After Charis came Eoinn, younger than his sister by several years, and like her he had inherited his mother’s golden hair as well as her fondness of learning and letters. His love for horses was his own, however, and if he could have discovered a way to read while on the bare back of a horse plunging ahead at full gallop, Eoinn would have considered himself the most fortunate boy alive.
Guistan, the youngest, was dark like Avallach, but had Briseis’ light-blue eyes and something of her grace. He shared none of his brother’s keenness for books and had early developed the knack of disappearing whenever studying seemed likely. He was clever with his hands and eyes; he could render anything he saw with uncanny skill, but would destroy the drawing if anyone so much as mentioned his artistic ability, let alone praised it. He took enormous pleasure goading his older brothers and playing elaborate tricks on them, even though he often paid dearly for his fun.
The four were, for Charis, necessary evils. They were male and therefore inhabited a world separate from hers. She was not ill-treated by them; as a rule, she was not noticed at all. Or, if she did happen to impress them with her presence in some way, they expressed either surprise or resentment at the intrusion. At the best of times, she was a novelty to them, an exotic pet; at worst, a bothersome nuisance.
Charis, however, quickly tired of their inbred condescension and learned to go her own way, tolerating her brothers when circumstances required, ignoring them the rest of the time, as they ignored her.
On this day, Charis was feeling particularly magnanimous. It was a special day, for at last, for the first time in a very long time something out of the dull ordinary, something exciting even, was about to happen. And nothing-not even the grossly self-involved behavior of her brothers-could dim her bright enthusiasm.
While Charis surveyed the scene with rising anticipation, Annubi appeared carrying a small, plain gopherwood box as his only baggage. She greeted him and asked, “Is that all you are taking with you?”
The seer appeared preoccupied; he smiled absently and muttered, “Oh, Charis, yes. Taking with me?”
“The box. Is that all?”
He stared at the hubbub around him in a dazed way. “Too many people, too much noise. It is happening too fast.”
“Too fast? I cannot wait to leave this boring place.”
Annubi shook his head and looked at the girl before him. “Teh, the hunger for excitement will kill us all.”
He strode off, and Charis noticed that he had chosen sturdy, thick-soled walking shoes rather than the soft leather boots of a horseman, yet his long legs were encased in riding breeches; he wore a formal red mantle rather than a riding cloak. His attire was a curious combination-as if he could not decide how or where he was going.
The king’s driver came into the palace yard with the king’s parade chariot hitched to a trio of milk-white horses. Avallach would not use it until his entrance into Poseidonis and after, When the kings paraded from the temple along the Avenue of Stars in the final council ceremonies.
Avallach arrived next, stood with hands on hips, and took in the activity before him. Charis sidled up to him and slipped her hands around his arm. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and patted her hands. “Happy, Charis?”
“Yes, Father. Very happy.”
“Good.”
He smiled briefly and turned his attention back to the loading. Kian strolled up, exchanged a few words with his father and both walked off together, leaving Charis to herself once more.
Assembling all the baggage and provisions seemed to take forever. Charis grew tired of waiting and went back into the palace. She entered the pillared vestibule and saw Annubi talking to her mother. Briseis held her hands before her as if to push something away; her head was bent as she listened to the seer. The queen nodded when Annubi finished, then, laying a hand on his arm, smiled wistfully and walked away. Annubi watched her for a moment and then followed.
Charis wondered at this exchange as she continued on her way. Ilean, the queen’s handmaid, found her a little later in the small side kitchen, sitting at a table with one of the scullions eating dates and honey cakes. “Princess Charis, it is time for leaving. I have been looking for you everywhere.”
“I grew tired of waiting and got hungry.”
“It is no wonder you are hungry,” said Ilean. “You eat little enough when given the chance. Well, come along now. They are ready for you.”
Charis got up slowly. “Remember your promise,” the scullery girl said as Charis stood, choosing a last cake to take with her. “If you should receive two presents the same”
“You may have the one I do not want-I will remember.” Charis broke the cake in half and popped one of the halves into her mouth. “Farewell.”
When Charis and Ilean reached the palace yard, the passengers were climbing into the carriages. The young princes were already mounted and riding around the yard, loudly expressing their impatience to be off. The carriage rode on four large, slender wheels; there was room for four passengers on its two wide benches. A crimson sunshade was raised on hoops over the rearmost bench, and two crimson banners, one on either side of the driver’s high seat at the front of the carriage, fluttered in the light breeze.
“We nearly left without you,” said Briseis as Charis scrambled into the seat beside her mother. A small force of mounted soldiers, the royal guard, rode into the yard, the sharp points of their long spears glittering in the midmorning sunlight. Their captain exchanged a few words with Avallach. The king mounted his horse while the soldiers ranged themselves at the head of the train, and a moment later the carriages began to roll. They passed slowly through the great archway and beyond the palace gates, and rolled out onto the causeway which joined the palace with Kellios below.
“At last,” sighed Charis, squirming in her seat to see the palace walls recede behind them. “I am finally leaving.”
King Avallach’s train of wagons and chariots rolled over stone-paved roads through the royal cify and into the dense wooded hills to the south, leaving the coastland far behind. There were many towns along the way, and at each the populace gathered to watch the royal procession pass, lining the road, waving, giving gifts. The travelers camped near a town or village-Iraklion, Parnitha, Kardis, Oenope, Xanthini, and others-where they were entertained by the local inhabitants each night until they began the gentle, rippling descent to the basin of the Coran River which formed the southern border of Avallach’s realm. The great river’s broad, fertile valley stretched from the heart of the continent to the sea, dividing Sarras from Corania. Upon crossing the river, the procession traveled through forested uplands for two more days before reaching Seithenin’s palace on the terraced hill overlooking the great harbor of Ys.
Riders were stationed at the approach to the palace. As the procession drew near, they rode to herald Avallach’s arrival so that when the king’s train came close it was met by a troop of soldiers wearing smoke-gray cloaks and carrying silver spears affixed with gray banners. The soldiers parted and formed columns on either side of the road, where they stood at attention, spears outthrust, banners flying.
Avallach’s train passed along this review until it came to a great wall. The road passed through the wall at an immense brazen gate which sported the images of two gigantic octopi, one on either doorpanel, their tentacles squirming toward one another. There, waiting before the gate, was Seithenin himself in his parade chariot. “Greetings, friend, and welcome!” he called as Avallach rode to meet him.
Seithenin stepped down from his chariot and Avallach dismounted. The two came together and embraced; then Seithenin bade Avallach join him in his chariot, so the two drove together through the gate and up the broad, stone-paved road to the palace on its hill above.
Queen Briseis in her carriage observed the greeting and remarked, “Seithenin’s welcome is most gratifying.”
Annubi, who was sitting opposite the queen, squinted in the sun and said, “With too much circumstance, it seems
to me. A spectacle is made for many eyes-whose, I wonder?”
“Why, for our own, I should think. His welcome seemed genuine.”
“Perhaps. But there is more purpose behind it than that, you may be sure.” Upon saying this, he fell silent and would speak of it no more.
Charis heard what was said and turned away from her perusal of Seithenin’s palace to stare at Annubi. The seer seemed fidgety and out of sorts, his long hands gripping his knees impatiently. As the train passed beneath the shadow of the palace, he gave a start and looked up at the walls towering above.
Briseis placed a hand on his arm, saying, “Annubi, what is wrong?”
He raised a shaking hand to his face and cupped his eyes. “No… nothing. Nothing, my queen. A momentary chill, that is all.” He forced a weak smile.
Charis wondered at his answer, for she too had felt something like a chill, although not as forcefully as Annubi. She would have questioned him further, but something told her this was not the time to do it. I will ask him about it later, she thought and turned her attention back to the palace.
It was a vast, sprawling edifice, attesting to the ambitions of its various tenants as each succeeding monarch enlarged upon its design-adding a wall here, a rampart there, a tower or hall or storehouse or residence somewhere else. All this was surrounded by parks and gardens and vineyards, dovecotes, fishponds, and stables. Century upon century of continuous building had produced a rambling monument to the wealth of the Coranian kings.
As the carriages passed through gates and over bridges into the heart of Seithenin’s sprawling palace, Charis could not suppress her amazement any longer. “Look at it,” she said. “Is there a palace greater than this in all Atlantis?”
“Only the palace of the High King in Poseidonis,” answered her mother. “But Seithenin’s must be nearly as large.’
“And look at all the people!” Charis gazed at the crowds lining the breastworks of the inner walls, waving and tossing flowers onto the road below. “Do they all live in the palace?”
“Many of them,” said Briseis. “Although I suppose some must live in the city.”
“How many wives has Seithenin?” wondered Charis.
Her mother laughed. “Why do you ask?”
“A king with such a palace must have a great many wives to help fill it up. And if he has many wives, there must be many children-and perhaps one or two my age.”
“Oh, I think there will be at least one your age. Seithenin has seven wives and many children. You are certain to find a friend.”
Charis grew thoughtful for a moment and then asked, “Why does Seithenin have seven wives, while Avallach has but one?”
The queen smiled. “The ways of love are mysterious-as you will learn soon enough.”
“The ways of politics, you mean,” sniffed Annubi.
“I would not like being one of seven,” declared Charis. “If I am ever to be married, I want to be the only wife.”
“You have little cause to worry,” replied the queen lightly. “The taking of many wives is a custom dying out in Atlantis.”
“Good,” remarked Charis firmly. “But why is it dying out?”
“Times are changing, girl. Look around you!” said Annubi, almost shouting. He looked embarrassed and muttered, “Forgive my intrusion.”
“No, please go on,” coaxed Briseis. “I would hear what you have to say.”
“I have said too much,” the seer grumped. He turned away and whispered under his breath, “Words come without bidding.”
“Please, Annubi,” said Charis. “Tell us.”
He stared at the sky for a moment. “Times are changing,” he repeated. “Men roam far from their homes-whole nations wander; the world grows ever smaller. People do not respect authority; learning diminishes. Kings plot war in their hearts or devote themselves to idleness and folly. The gods are not worshiped ia the old way; the priests of Bel have grown fat and stupid, but no one cares anymore, no one cares…”
“Speak a good word to us,” said Briseis, trying to cheer him, “for certainly things cannot be as bad as you suggest.”
“A good word?” He placed a long finger to his pursed lips and scowled at Seithenin’s palace. When he turned back, his eyes glinted with perverse delight. “Here is a good word for you: whatever is done cannot be undone, but whatever is lost can sometimes be found.”
“And sometimes, Annubi,” said Briseis, “I think you just enjoy confounding people.”
Charis listened to this exchange and wondered what was wrong with Annubi. He seemed distant and anxious-not at all his normal, if slightly sour, self-ever since the visit of Belyn’s men. What could they have said to upset him so? Then again, maybe it was something else.
They rode on in silence and came at last into the inner courts of the palace where Seithenin’s retainers waited, dressed in their best livery. It was an impressive sight, for there were over four hundred people gathered to welcome them: cooks and Charis and stewards, couriers, ushers and attendants, manservants, maidservants, chamberlains, seneschals and advisors of various rank, and each with a specific charge and place in Seithenin’s household.
The carriage rolled to a halt, and Charis’ eyes swept over the throng. “Where are they?” she asked.
“Who?” asked her mother.
“King Seithenin’s children.”
“You will meet them soon.”
The visitors were handed down from their carriages, and Avallach’s party was escorted into the palace. Charis marveled at the great gilt doors and lintels and the massive columns bearing up the weight of enormous cedar beams which in turn supported the brightly painted ceiling. Upon entering the receiving room they were met by Seithenin’s wives and a small host of children, each one bearing a gift wrapped in colored silk.
With formal words of welcome they stepped forward and presented each guest with a gift. Charis was dismayed to see that, except for a few infants in the arms of their nurses, Seithenin’s offspring appeared much older than she, and most of them were boys. She frowned and looked to her mother. “There is no one for me!” she whispered tersely.
Her mother smiled as she accepted a gift from a woman wearing a dazzling orange tunic with a long vest of bright red and a necklace of red coral. “Be patient,” Briseis said, and turned her attention to the gift and its bearer.
Charis lowered her eyes and shuffled her feet. She was kicking at the flagstones when she noticed a pair of smallX brown feet encased in blue leather sandals. A small girl half her age stood before her, arms outstretched, holding a tiny gift wrapped awkwardly in a scrap of wrinkled yellow silk.
Charis accepted the gift politely but without enthusiasm. The girl smiled, revealing a gap where she had lost a tooth. “I’m Liban,” she said. “What’s your name?”
“Charis.”
“Open your gift, Charith,” the girl lisped, nodding toward the parcel in Charis’ hands.
Charis untied the silk and out tumbled a bracelet made of bits of angular polished jade inexpertly strung on colored thread. “Thank you,” said Charis glumly, turning the thing over in her hand. She looked around at the extravagant gifts the others were receiving, boots and sandals of fine leather, silver rings and armbands, a gold dagger with a winking sapphire in its handle for Avallach, horn bows and quivers of arrows for the princes, an amphora of olives in oil for An-nubi, a lacquer box inset with pearls and containing three crystal vials of expensive perfume for Briseis.
She looked once more at her own gift, a cheap jade bracelet of the kind one could find among any street vendor’s wares. Her obvious disappointment went unnoticed by her benefactress, however. “I made it mythelf,” said Liban proudly, “ethpethially for you.”
“I am pleased to accept it,” replied Charis. “How did you know I would be coming?”
“My mother told me. Go ahead, put it on.” Liban stepped close and took the bracelet. Charis extended her hand, and the girl slipped it onto her wrist. “Ith a little big,” Liba
n observed, “but you will grow. What number are you?”
“Number?”
“Which printheth, I mean. I am number five. I have four sisthers, but they are older-ten brothers. Three are juth babies, though.”
Charis smiled; despite their differences in age, she found herself liking Liban. “I suppose I am number one then, because I am the only princess.”
“The only one?” Liban shook her head in wonder. “That must be very lonely.”
“Yes, sometimes,” Charis admitted.
“Do you want to thee my room?”
“Well” began Charis uncertainly, looking around. The room was filled with people, but no one seemed to be interested in her except Liban. “All right, I would like to see it.”
“You can thtay with me if you want to,” said Liban as they started off. “We can have a bed moved in. There ith plenty of room.”
They left the reception, striking off down a wide corridor of polished green marble. Liban chattered happily, tugging Charis along as if she was afraid of losing her. Charis fingered her clumsy bracelet and it occurred to her that no one had ever made her a gift before-that is, a gift made especially for her and no one else.
After his guests had rested and refreshed themselves, Seith-enin sent seneschals to invite Avaliach’s company to join him on the meadow. Avallach accepted and all were conducted to a pavilioned plain within the outer walls, a meadow now festooned with banners and lanterns strung from pole to pole. Huge iron braziers filled with hot coals were situated in the center of the meadow, and over these whole oxen and hogs turned slowly on spits while master cooks basted the meat wiih swabs of herbed butter from a wooden tub.
In^the center of the inner circle of tents stood a riser with several dozen seats overlooking a roped-off field. As the carriages rolled to a stop at the edge of the meadow, a group of young people wearing garlands and colored ribbons came running to meet them. They were led by Liban and carried armfuls of flowers which they bestowed upon the passengers in the royal carriages. Charis accepted a large bouquet from the smiling girl, and then the young people raced oif to begin forming circles on the field.
Taliesin pc-1 Page 8
