Taliesin pc-1

by Stephen R. Lawhead

  “I have told you,” Lile answered simply.

  “Out of devotion to Mithras?”

  “That, yes, and because you are my husband’s daughter and the head of this house while he is indisposed.”

  “I see.”

  Lile looked at her frankly with her large dark eyes. “We are sisters, Charis. There is no need for us to be enemies. I mean you no harm and whether you Believe it or not, I respect your father very much. I use my art to make him comfortable and” She hesitated and then said, “To help him regain his health.”

  Charis was certain she had been about to say something else. She replied, “As you have spoken plainly, I will as well. I do not trust you, Lile. I do not know what you want. Whatever it is, you have achieved it by getting my father to marry you. Until I know more about you and your ambitions I will remain wary of you.”

  “You express yourself well, Princess Charis. I understand.” The woman rose slowly and retrieved the medicine tray. She paused at the doorway and said, “Do what you will about the chirurgia. If you change your mind, I stand ready to serve you.”

  The next day Annubi came to see her, and Charis told him about her conversation with Lile. The king’s advisor listened and the frown on his face deepened as Charis went on, until he raised his hands in horror and cried, “Enough! I will not hear more!”

  The violence of his reaction surprised her; she had expected concern but not outright anger. “Annubi, why? What have I said to disturb you so?”

  “Everything- it is lies. All lies!”

  “But there must be a grain of truth in what she said. The Magi attending the king would not have summoned her if there was no need. If she did rescue my father from the grave, I can understand his dependence upon her now.”

  “Fate favored her with an opportunity, no doubt. But she has made the most of it. She has twisted this whole unfortunate incident to her design. This Phrygian slave- did she tell you his name?”

  Charis thought for a moment. “Tothmos… Yes, Toth-mos, that was it.”

  “You see? Her father’s name was Tothmos. He was the Phrygian – a sailor no doubt. Her mother was probably gut-terborn and took to her bed the first man who would look at her.”

  “She never mentioned her mother,” mused Charis.

  “The unhappy harlot opened her veins at first opportunity, I suppose.”

  “But her art – the healing, chirurgia, Mithras? She appeared so adept. She explained my injury to me perfectly, yet never laid a finger on me.”

  “I am certain she has some minor skill- what with her stone instruments and all. The religion of Mithras and Isis is very old and was at one time very powerful.”

  “Was?”

  “It died out thousands of years ago.”

  “Then how” began Charis.

  “It has been revived- as a cult. It is currently much in vogue in some parts of the world, I am told. As her father was a sailor, it is not difficult to imagine that he would have encountered it on some voyage or other.”

  “She seemed to know so much about medicine,” Charis countered doubtfully. She too had begun to frown.

  “I do not deny she has a gift. But there are many gods who would bestow such a gift, Charis. And not all of them for the benefit of man.”

  “Meaning?”

  “If her skill is as great as she claims, why does the king not improve? It has been three years!”

  “I was almost taken in by her. She nearly convinced me.”

  “Ah, yes, that is part of her art as well. Listen long enough and you can no longer recognize the truth.”

  “Annubi, what are we going to do?”

  The seer sighed and spread his hands. “There is nothing we can do, Charis. It is hopeless. If Kian were here perhaps”

  Charis pushed back the bedclothes. “Kian will not come.”

  “Here, lie back. What are you doing?”

  With difficulty Charis swung her legs to the edge of the bed. “Kian told me that he and Belyn were meeting in a day’s time at a bridge somewhere on the border between our two lands-Herakli, he said. I don’t know where it is, but I must be there. You will help me, Annubi.”

  “You cannot ride.”

  “Then you must make it so that I can. Bind me tightly and give me something for the pain.”

  “Rest, Charis. There is nothing you can do there.”

  She pulled herself to the edge of the bed, pain twisting her features. “I will not stay a moment longer in this house of death and deceit,” she said through clenched teeth. “They will listen to me; I will make them listen to me this time. You Believe what Throm has said”

  When he made no answer she asked, “Do you deny what you said before?”

  “I deny nothing,” Annubi said quietly.

  “Then why do you look at me like that?”

  “Your mother, the queen, Believed it too. Do you remember the Great Council?” She nodded. “Briseis kept me busy all the time we were in Poseidonis-searching through records, divining star signs, consulting other seers.”

  “What were you looking for?”

  “Signs, evidence, information-anything that would prove that what Throm predicted was true.”

  “And did you find it?”

  “No,” Annubi admitted. “I did not-because I spent all my time looking into another matter.”

  “Which was?”

  “Your mother’s death.”

  Charis shook her head. “Why?”

  “Briseis Believed-largely because of the starfall-though she had sensed it well before that. She had some small ability of her own. So I consulted the Magi on her behalf. The signs were conclusive: a royal death was imminent. She guessed she did not have long to live, although I think she never saw what form her death would take. That, at least, was spared her. Still, when the High King was killed, we hoped briefly that the betokened royal death had been his and that she was saved.”

  Charis reflected for a long moment. The events Annubi described might have happened centuries ago, so much had changed for Charis since her mother was killed. But all at once the grief of those last days came rushing back with an intensity that blinded her. It was some time before Charis could speak. “I never knew,” she said.

  “She could not have faced it if she thought anyone else knew.” Annubi smiled sadly. “You reminded me of her just now.”

  “You helped her then. Will you help me now?”

  “When could I ever refuse you?”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Charis chose a chariot for speed, if not for comfort. Carriages were too heavy and too slow, and even though every jounce of the chariot’s thin wheels made her wince with pain- and made the driver wince under the lash of her tongue-the road all but flew by. Even so, they did not reach Herakli until well after dark.

  The stone-paved streets of the little town were deserted, but a handful of torches still burned in their sconces outside a few of the larger houses, and raucous laughter spilled out into the street from the white stucco inn, whose upper window blazed with a red seaman’s lantern, although Herakli was many miles from the sea.

  The driver stopped the chariot, and Charis, stiff from the effort of keeping upright on the tiny seat of the vehicle, turned slowly around to gaze through the narrow murky windows of the inn. “Do you think they might be in there?” she wondered aloud.

  Piros, the driver, scratched his jaw. “It would be a wager,” he replied. “I will go see.” He wrapped the reins around the handrail and stepped from the chariot, disappearing into the inn without another word or backward glance.

  He was gone so long that Charis thought she might have to go searching for him and had nearly made up her mind to do so when he reappeared. “They are not there, Princess Charis,” he said, the smell of resinated wine emanating from him.

  “Did you bathe in the stuff or just down an amphora or two?”

  Piros blinked back at her, thunderstruck.

  “You leave me sitting out here while you drink you
r weight in that” She sputtered, looking for words, “-that goat urine they serve in there.”

  The stablehand went down on his knees in the street. “My life is forfeit, Princess, if you are displeased,” he said.

  “Oh, get up!”

  “Information must be bought, but innkeepers will talk to those with a jar in their hand. And driving is such a dusty business… I only thought…”

  “Get up at once!” ordered Charis sternly. “And stop whining. You could have brought me one, at least.”

  Piros stood, head down, hands hanging at his sides.

  “Well, as you were in there long enough to take up residence, what did you find out?”

  “Some of Kian’s men were in Herakli earlier today to buy food and drink. But they left again and did not return.”

  “Are they still nearby?”

  “No one knows. But one man, a vinedresser I think, said he saw a group of men on the road earlier today-near the bridge. There is a grove there on the Sarras side where people sometimes meet.”

  “If they are here, that is where they will be,” said Charis. “Did he say how to get there?”

  “He said he could take us.”

  “Go get him then.”

  Piros ducked his head and hurried away. “You have already paid your debt to social obligation, Piros,” she called after him. “Leave the wine alone.”

  The vinedresser was a thin, dark-skinned fellow with a long, narrow nose which even by flickering torchlight Charis could see was inflamed and red from overindulgence in the produce of his craft. Charis eyed him skeptically. “You say you know where the men I am looking for can be found?” she asked.

  “I know where they might be,” he replied with a stupid shrewd smirk.

  “Are you in condition to lead us there?”

  “I might be able to find it. Then again, I might not.” He jiggled an empty purse. The driver elbowed him and whispered in his ear; the smirk disappeared and the man added, “Most assured-certainly I can, Queen Charis.” Piros jabbed him again.

  “Then do it,” commanded Charis. “We are wasting time.”

  Piros climbed into the chariot and unwound the reins, snapping them smartly. The horses’ drooping heads lifted. The vinedresser climbed overcarefully into the vehicle, and they were off.

  Finding the bridge posed no difficulty, even in the dark, for the road led directly to it. The besotted vinedresser had only to indicate which branch of the road to take when it forked on two occasions. The bridge was not far from the town, and they arrived as the moon rose above the surrounding hills.

  There was no one at the bridge, but scattered through the grove a little distance away from the road Charis could see campfires winking through the trees. “There they are,” she said. “Piros, give our guide the price of a jar and let him go.”

  Piros dipped into his purse and flipped a coin to the vinedresser, who was wearing the expression of a man who has just been stung by a hornet. “We do you no disservice, vinedresser,” said Charis. “Your help has been rewarded in kind, and the fresh air will clear your head wonderfully. Now go; if you hurry, there may still be time for another jar before the innkeeper closes the shutters.”

  The vinedresser lurched from the chariot and, muttering under his breath, hurried away. Piros turned the team and started for the grove. They were soon stopped by armed sentries waiting among the trees.

  “Turn back,” one of the sentries told them. “There is nothing to concern you here.”

  “It is Piros,” replied the driver, foregoing all protocol. “Oh, and Princess Charis,” he added hastily, “to see her brother the prince and King Belyn of Tairn.”

  The sentry approached, saw Charis sitting rigidly in the chariot, bowed, and came around to the back of the vehicle. “Princess, allow me to conduct you to your brother,” he said, offering his arm. Piros made a move to join them. “Take the horses to the teiher line,” the sentry told him, pointing back through the trees. “You will find fodder and water for them there.”

  Piros turned the team and drove them through the trees. The sentry said nothing as he guided her into the center of the grove. They passed along a darkened pathway with camp-fires on either side, around which Charis glimpsed faces whose eyes sparkled in the lambent light, watching as she passed. They approached a larger campfire and Charis saw that three huge, round tents had been set up; lampstands within the tents made them seem like great glowing mushrooms sprouting up beneath the sheltering limbs of the trees.

  “Prince Kian’s is on the left, Princess Charis,” said the sentry. “King Belyn’s on the right, and in the center is Prince Maildun’s.”

  “Thank you,” she said and started toward Kian’s tent. The sentry hung back. “Was there something else?”

  The man lowered his eyes, and even in the moonlight Charis could see that he was embarrassed. At first she thought he would not speak, but he looked at her again and said, “I was there-at the watchtower. I saw what you did. We all saw…”

  “Anyone else would have done the same.”

  The sentry nodded, as much as to say, Oh, yes, and swineherds fly.

  “It was kind of you to remember.” She turned back to the tents. “The one on the left, you said?”

  He nodded again and led her to it. Two more sentries stood outside the tent and when they saw Charis they suddenly snapped to attention. “The princess to see Prince Kian,” the sentry informed them, as if they had not already guessed.

  One of the sentries ducked under the tent flap and a moment later the flap was thrown wide as Kian stepped out. “Charis, what are you doing here? Come in at once.”

  Once inside, in the warmth and light of the tent, Charis’ fatigue, held off for so long, suddenly overwhelmed her. She sagged against a tent pole and closed her eyes.

  “-foolish thing to do,” Kian was saying. “I told you at the tower that I” He broke off when he saw her. “By Cybel’s horns, Charis, you’re pale as milk. Sit down. Here” He reached for her to help her to a chair.

  “No!” Her hand came away from the tent pole and her eyes opened as she slowly straightened. “I can manage.”

  Kian watched her with apprehension growing in his dark eyes. “You are in pain, Charis. I will send for a Mage” He made a move toward the tent flap.

  “No-no, thank you, Kian. It will pass. Annubi gave me something earlier. It is leaving me now, but I will be all right.”

  The prince frowned. “This is not wise at all. You should be home in bed.’”

  “Home? What a choice of words, Kian. And where do you suppose my home to be? The bullring?”

  “You know what I mean,” He stood with his fists on his hips, then softened and stepped toward her. “Why did you come?”

  “Belyn is still awake?”

  “Yes, we were together until just a few minutes ago. Do you want me to send for him?”

  “We will go to him.”

  Leaning on Kian’s arm, Charis managed the few yards between tents. Kian nodded to one of the sentries and they were admitted at once. Just inside the tent stood a carved rosewood screen, candlelight shining through the innumerable perforations like starlight. A nearby censer burned sweet-smelling incense and a layer of blue-tinted smoke hung like a cloud at the top of the tent.

  Charis composed herself and straightened as she stepped from behind the screen. Belyn was standing at a small table with a carafe in his hand, pouring wine into a cup. He wore the haggard look of a man tired beyond exhaustion. He glanced up as they entered. “Ah, Kian, will you have” His eyes went to Charis.

  “Uncle Belyn,” said Charis.

  Recognition spread across the king’s face like sunrise. “Charis! Charis, my soul, let me look at you. It has been a long time. When last I saw you-but look at you!” He replaced the cup and stepped around the table to take her by the arms.

  Charis winced. “Uncle Belyn,” she said between clenched teeth, “it is good to see you too.”

  He pulled back in alarm and
cast a quick glance at Kian. “You are hurt. Sit down at once. Here” He dragged a three-legged camp chair across the carpeted floor. “Sit.”

  Charis accepted the chair and lowered herself slowly onto it. “Some wine,” said Belyn. “Get more chairs, Kian.” He stepped to the table to pour two more cups. Charis saw that he had a scar on his temple that ran from his hairline into his scalp; his hair had gone white along the slash mark and one eyelid drooped slightly. He returned as Kian pushed two more chairs together. Belyn handed a cup to each of them saying, “Your brother told me about what you did at the watchtower. I am much impressed-and I am not the only one.”

  “I made them pay for their pleasure,” acknowledged Charis. She took a sip of the wine, then several gulps.

  “Indeed,” remarked Kian. “Charis, do you know that my men have talked about nothing else since? They Believe you a goddess.”

  “Then they should see this goddess now,” scoffed Charis, raising a hand to her battered face. She took another draught of wine and cautiously leaned back in the chair. “A goddess with a broken back perhaps.”

  “Say what you like, it is true,” Belyn said. “Talk is spreading among my troops as well and they, as you know, were not even there.” He gulped down his wine and set the cup aside. “Now then, why have you come when you should be home in bed?”

  She answered directly. “I want you to give up this stupid war.”

  “Give it up?” Belyn raised his eyebrows and looked across to Kian. “But thanks to you we have just gained the first advantage we have enjoyed since Avallach-well, the first in a very long time. Why would we want to give up now?”

  “Not give up to Seithenin,” said Charis. “I mean stop. Quit fighting.”

  “Kian, do you know what she is talking about?”

  “I have a general idea,” he admitted. “Look, Charis, do you think”

  She ignored him, speaking only to Belyn. “The war does not matter. Something is going to happen very soon and we must be ready.”

  “Ah, you speak of this prophecy-the coming catastrophe?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you are talking nonsense, Charis,” he said gently. “I have heard those silly rumors for years.”