‘His stuffing all came out after my father sent you into exile. I washed him and then folded him up and put him on the top shelf in my closet. I’ll have him restuffed after our first baby is born. Poor Rollo. He saw some hard use after you were sent away. I cried all over him extensively. He was a very soggy little animal for several months.’
‘Did you really miss me all that much?’
‘Miss you? I thought I’d die. I wanted to die, actually.’
His arms tightened around her.
‘Well now,’ she said, ‘why don’t we talk about that?’
He laughed. ‘Do you absolutely have to say everything that pops into your head?’
‘When we’re alone, yes. I have no secrets from you, my husband.’ She remembered something. ‘You said you were going to tell me about that music we heard during the ceremony.’
‘That was Aphrael. I’ll have to check with Sephrenia, but I rather strongly suspect that we’ve been married in more than one religion.’
‘Good. That gives me another hold on you.’
‘You don’t really need any more, you know. You’ve had me in thrall since you were about six years old.’
‘That’s nice,’ she said, snuggling even closer to him. ‘God knows I was trying.’ She paused. ‘I must say, though, that I’m getting just a bit put out with your impertinent little Styric Goddess. She always seems to be around. For all we know, she’s hovering unseen in some corner right now.’ She stopped suddenly and sat up in bed. ‘Do you suppose she might be?’ she asked with some consternation.
‘I wouldn’t be surprised.’ He was deliberately teasing her.
‘Sparhawk!’ The pale light of the moon made it impossible to be sure, but Sparhawk strongly suspected that his wife was blushing furiously.
‘Don’t concern yourself, love,’ he laughed. ‘Aphrael’s exquisitely courteous. She’d never think of intruding.’
‘But we can never really be sure, can we? I’m not sure I like her. I get the feeling that she’s very much attracted to you, and I don’t much care for the notion of immortal competition.’
‘Don’t be absurd. She’s a child.’
‘I was only about five years old the first time I saw you, Sparhawk, and I decided to marry you the minute you walked into the room.’ She slid from the bed, crossed to the glowing window and parted the gauze curtains. The pale moonlight made her look very much like an alabaster statue.
‘Shouldn’t you put on a robe?’ he suggested. ‘You’re exposing yourself to public scrutiny, you know.’
‘Everybody in Chyrellos has been asleep for hours now. Besides, we’re six floors above the street. I want to look at the moon. The moon and I are very close, and I want her to know how happy I am.’
‘Pagan,’ he smiled.
‘I suppose I am at that,’ she admitted, ‘but all women feel a peculiar attachment to the moon. She touches us in ways a man could never understand.’
Sparhawk crawled out of bed and joined her at the window. The moon was very pale and very bright, but the fact that its pale light washed out all colour concealed to some degree the ruin Martel’s siege had inflicted on the Holy City, although the smell of smoke was still very strong in the night air. The stars glittered in the sky. There was nothing really unusual about that, but they seemed especially brilliant on this night of all nights.
Ehlana pulled his arms about her and sighed. ‘I wonder if Mirtai’s sleeping outside my door,’ she said. ‘She does that, you know. Wasn’t she ravishing tonight?’
‘Oh yes. I didn’t get the chance to tell you this, but Kring’s completely overwhelmed by her. I’ve never seen a man so bowled over by love.’
‘At least he’s open and honest about it. I have to drag affectionate words out of you.’
‘You know that I love you, Ehlana. I always have.’
‘That’s not precisely true. When I was still carrying Rollo around, you were only mildly fond of me.’
‘It was more than that.’
‘Oh, really? I saw the pained looks you used to give me when I was being childish and silly, my noble Prince Consort.’ She frowned. ‘That’s a very cumbersome title. When I get back to Cimmura, I think I’ll have a talk with Lenda. It seems to me there’s an empty duchy somewhere – or if there isn’t, I’ll vacate one. I’m going to dispossess a few of Annias’s henchmen anyway. How would you like to be a duke, Your Grace?’
‘Thanks all the same, Your Majesty, but I think I can forgo the encumbrance of additional titles.’
‘But I want to give you titles.’
‘I’m sort of taken with “husband” personally.’
‘Any man can be a husband.’
‘But I’m the only one who’s yours.’
‘Oh, that’s very nice. Practise a bit, Sparhawk, and you might even turn into a perfect gentleman.’
‘Most of the perfect gentlemen I know are courtiers. They’re not generally held in high regard.’
She shivered.
‘You’re cold,’ he accused. ‘I told you to put on a robe.’
‘Why do I need a robe when I have this nice warm husband handy?’
He bent, picked her up in his arms and carried her back to the bed.
‘I’ve dreamed of this,’ she said as he gently put her on the bed, joined her and drew the covers over them. ‘You know something, Sparhawk?’ She snuggled down against him again. ‘I used to worry about this night. I thought I’d be all nervous and shy, but I’m not at all – and do you know why?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘I think it’s because we’ve really been married since the first moment I laid my eyes on you. All we were really doing was waiting for me to grow up so that we could formalize things.’ She kissed him lingeringly. ‘What time do you think it is?’
‘A couple of hours until daylight.’
‘Good. That gives us lots more time. You are going to be careful in Zemoch, aren’t you?’
‘I’m going to do my very best.’
‘Please don’t do heroic things just to impress me, Sparhawk. I’m already impressed.’
‘I’ll be careful,’ he promised.
‘Speaking of that – do you want my ring now?’
‘Why don’t you give it to me in public? Let Sarathi see us keep our part of the bargain.’
‘Was I really too terrible to him?’
‘You startled him a bit. Sarathi’s not used to dealing with women like you. I think you unnerve him, my love.’
‘Do I unnerve you too, Sparhawk?’
‘Not really. I raised you, after all. I’m used to your little quirks.’
‘You’re really very fortunate, you know. Very few men have the opportunity to rear their own wives. That may give you something to think about on your way to Zemoch.’ Her voice quavered then, and a sudden sob escaped her. ‘I swore I wouldn’t do this,’ she wailed. ‘I don’t want you to remember me as being all weepy.’
‘It’s all right, Ehlana. I sort of feel the same way myself.’
‘Why does the night have to run so fast? Could this Aphrael of yours stop the sun from coming up if we asked her to? Or maybe you could do it with the Bhelliom.’
‘I don’t think anything in the world has the power to do that, Ehlana.’
‘What good are they all then?’ She began to cry, and he took her into his arms and held her until the storm of her weeping had passed. Then he gently kissed her. One kiss became several, and the rest of the night passed without any further weeping.
Chapter 20
‘But why does it have to be in public?’ Sparhawk demanded, clanking around the room to settle his armour into place.
‘It’s expected, dear,’ Ehlana replied calmly. ‘You’re a member of the royal family now, and you’re obliged to appear in public on occasion. You get used to it after a while.’ Ehlana, wearing a fur-trimmed blue velvet robe, sat at her dressing table.
‘It’s no worse than a tournament, My Lord,’ Kurik told him. �
��That’s in public too. Now will you stop pacing around so I can get your sword-belt on straight?’ Kurik, Sephrenia and Mirtai had arrived at the bridal chamber with the sun, Kurik carrying Sparhawk’s armour, Sephrenia carrying flowers for the queen and Mirtai carrying breakfast. Emban came with them, and he carried the news that the formal farewell would take place on the steps of the Basilica.
‘We haven’t given the people or Wargun’s troops much in the way of detail, Sparhawk,’ the fat little Churchman cautioned, ‘so you probably shouldn’t get too specific if you start making speeches. We’ll give you a rousing send-off and hint at the fact that you’re going to save the world all by yourself. We’re used to lying, so we’ll even be able to sound convincing. It’s all very silly, of course, but we’d appreciate your cooperation. The morale of the citizens and particularly of Wargun’s troops is very important just now.’ His round face took on a slightly disappointed cast. ‘I suggested that we have you do something spectacular in the way of magic to top things off, but Sarathi put his foot down.’
‘Your tendency towards theatrics sometimes gets out of hand, Emban,’ Sephrenia told him. The small Styric woman was toying with Ehlana’s hair, experimenting with comb and brush.
‘I’m a man of the people, Sephrenia,’ Emban replied. ‘My father was a tavern keeper, and I know how to please a crowd. The people love a good show, and that’s what I wanted to give them.’
Sephrenia had lifted Ehlana’s hair into a mass atop the queen’s head. ‘What do you think, Mirtai?’ she asked.
‘I liked it the way it was before,’ the giantess replied.
‘She’s married now. The way she wore her hair before was the way a young girl would wear it. We have to do something with it to indicate that she’s a married woman now.’
‘Brand her,’ Mirtai shrugged. ‘That’s what my people do.’
‘Do what?’ Ehlana exclaimed.
‘Among my people, a woman is branded with her husband’s mark when she marries – usually on the shoulder.’
‘To indicate that she’s his property?’ the queen asked scornfully. ‘What sort of mark does the husband wear?’
‘He wears his wife’s mark. Marriages are not undertaken lightly among my people.’
‘I can see why,’ Kurik said with a certain awe.
‘Eat your breakfast before it gets cold, Ehlana,’ Mirtai commanded.
‘I don’t really care all that much for fried liver, Mirtai.’
‘It’s not for you. My people lay some importance on the wedding night. Many brides become pregnant on that night – or so they say. That might be the result of practising before the ceremony, though.’
‘Mirtai!’ Ehlana gasped, flushing.
‘You mean you didn’t? I’m disappointed in you.’
‘I didn’t think of it,’ Ehlana confessed. ‘Why didn’t you say something, Sparhawk?’
Emban for some reason was blushing furiously. ‘Why don’t I just run along?’ he said. ‘I have a million things to take care of.’ And he bolted from the room.
‘Was it something I said?’ Mirtai asked innocently.
‘Emban’s a Churchman, dear,’ Sephrenia told her, trying to stifle a laugh. ‘Churchmen prefer not to know too much about such things.’
‘Foolishness. Eat, Ehlana.’
The gathering on the steps of the Basilica was not quite a ceremony, but rather was one of those informally formal affairs customarily put on for public entertainment. Dolmant was there to lend solemnity to the affair. The kings, crowned and robed, were present to give things an official tone, and the Preceptors of the militant orders to add a martial note. Dolmant began things with a prayer. That was followed by brief remarks from the kings and then by slightly longer ones from the Preceptors. Sparhawk and his companions then knelt to receive the Archprelate’s blessing, and the whole affair was concluded by the farewell between Ehlana and her Prince Consort. The Queen of Elenia, speaking once again in that oratorical tone, commanded her champion to go forth and conquer. She concluded by removing her ring and bestowing it upon him as a mark of her special favour. He responded by replacing it upon her hand with a ring surmounted with a heart-shaped diamond. Talen had been a bit evasive about how the ring had come into his possession when he had pressed it upon Sparhawk just prior to the gathering on the steps.
‘And now, my champion,’ Ehlana concluded, perhaps a bit dramatically, ‘go forth with your brave companions, and know that our hopes, our prayers and all our faith ride with you. Take up the sword, my husband and champion, and defend me and our faith and our beloved homes against the vile hordes of heathen Zemoch!’ And then she embraced him and bestowed a single brief kiss upon his lips.
‘Nice speech, love,’ he murmured his congratulations.
‘Emban wrote it,’ she confessed. ‘He’s got the soul of a meddler. Try to get word to me now and then, my husband, and in the name of God, be careful.’
He gently kissed her forehead, and then he and his friends strode purposefully to the foot of the marble stairs and their waiting horses as the bells of the Basilica rang out their own farewell. The Preceptors of the militant orders, who were to ride out with them a little way, followed. Kring and his mounted Peloi were already waiting in the street. Before they set out, Kring rode forward to where Mirtai stood, and his horse performed that ritual genuflection to her. Neither of them spoke, but Mirtai did look slightly impressed.
‘All right, Faran,’ Sparhawk said as he swung up into the saddle, ‘it’s all right for you to indulge yourself just a bit.’
The big, ugly roan’s ears pricked forward eagerly, and he began to prance outrageously as the war-like party moved off in the direction of the east gate.
Once they had passed the gate, Vanion left Sephrenia’s side and drew his horse in beside Faran. ‘Stay alert, my friend,’ he advised. ‘Have you got Bhelliom where you can get your hands on it in a hurry if you have to?’
‘It’s inside my surcoat,’ Sparhawk said. He looked closely at his friend. ‘Don’t take this wrong,’ he said, ‘but you’re looking decidedly seedy this morning.’
‘I’m tired more than anything, Sparhawk. Wargun kept us running pretty hard down there in Arcium. Take care of yourself, my friend. I want to go and talk with Sephrenia before we separate.’
Sparhawk sighed as Vanion rode back along the column to join the small, beautiful woman who had tutored generations of Pandions in the secrets of Styricum. Sephrenia and Vanion would never say anything overtly, even to each other, but Sparhawk knew how things stood between them, and he also knew how totally impossible their situation was.
Kalten pulled in beside him. ‘Well, how did the wedding night go?’ he asked, his eyes very bright.
Sparhawk gave him a long, flat look.
‘You don’t want to talk about it, I gather.’
‘It’s sort of private.’
‘We’ve been friends since boyhood, Sparhawk. We’ve never had any secrets from each other.’
‘We have now. It’s about seventy leagues to Kadach, isn’t it?’
‘That’s fairly close. If we push, we should be able to make it in five days. Did Martel sound at all concerned when he was talking with Annias down in that cellar? What I’m getting at is do you think he’ll be worried enough about our following him to hurry right along?’
‘He definitely wanted to leave Chyrellos.’
‘He’s probably pushing his horses hard then, wouldn’t you say?’
‘That’s a safe bet.’
‘His horses will tire if he runs them hard, so we still might have a chance to catch up with him after a few days. I don’t know about how you feel about him, but I’d certainly like to catch Adus.’
‘It’s something to think about, all right. How’s the country between Kadach and Motera?’
‘Flat. Mostly farmland. Castles here and there. Farm villages. It’s a great deal like eastern Elenia.’ Kalten laughed. ‘Have you taken a look at Berit this morning? He’s having a lit
tle trouble adjusting to his armour. It doesn’t fit him all that well.’ Berit, the raw-boned young novice, had been promoted to a rank seldom used by the militant orders. He was now an apprentice knight rather than a novice. This legally enabled him to wear his own armour, but he did not as yet rate a ‘sir’.
‘He’ll get used to it,’ Sparhawk said. ‘When we stop for the night, take him aside and show him how to pad the raw spots. We don’t want him to start bleeding out of the joints of his armour. Be discreet about it, though. If I remember rightly, a young fellow’s very proud and a little touchy when he first puts his armour on. That sort of passes after the first few blisters break.’
It was when they reached a hilltop several miles from Chyrellos that the Preceptors turned back. The advice and the cautions had all been given, and so there was little to do but clasp hands and to wish each other well. Sparhawk and his friends rather soberly watched as their leaders rode back to the Holy City.
‘Well,’ Tynian said, ‘now that we’re alone –’
‘Let’s talk for a few moments first,’ Sparhawk said. He raised his voice. ‘Domi,’ he called, ‘would you join us for a moment, please?’
Kring rode up the hill, an inquiring look on his face.
‘Now then,’ Sparhawk began, ‘Martel seems to think that Azash will want us to get through without any difficulty, but Martel might be wrong. Azash has many servants, and He may very well loose them on us. He wants Bhelliom, not any satisfaction He might get from a personal confrontation. Kring, I think you’d better put out scouts. Let’s not be taken by surprise.’
‘I will, friend Sparhawk,’ the Domi promised.
‘If we should happen to encounter any of the servants of Azash, I want all of you to fall back and let me deal with them. I’ve got Bhelliom, and that should be all the advantage I’ll need. Kalten raised the point that we might just overtake Martel. If we do, try to take Martel and Annias alive. The Church wants them to stand trial. I doubt that Arissa or Lycheas will offer much resistance, so take them as well.’
‘And Adus?’ Kalten asked eagerly.
‘Adus can barely talk, so he wouldn’t be of much value in any trial. You can have him – as a personal gift from me.’
The Sapphire Rose Page 36
