‘I don’t think so, Arissa.’ Sparhawk’s voice was flat.
‘Ah, the well-known prudery of your family. What a shame, Sparhawk. You interested me when you were a young knight. Now you’ve lost your Queen, and there’s not even that pair of rings to prove the connection between the two of you. Wouldn’t that mean that you’re no longer her Champion? Perhaps if she recovers – you might be able to establish a closer bond with her. She shares my blood, you know, and it might flow as hotly through her veins as it does through mine. If you were to try me, you could compare and find out.’
He turned away in disgust, and she laughed again.
‘Shall I send for parchment and ink, Princess,’ Dolmant asked, ‘so that we may compose your denial of the rumour concerning your marriage?’
‘No, Dolmant,’ she replied, ‘I don’t think so. This request of yours hints at the interest of the Church in this matter. The Church has done me few favours of late, so why should I exert myself on her behalf? If the people in Cimmura want to amuse themselves with rumours about me, let them. They licked their lips over the truth, now let them enjoy a lie.’
‘That’s your final word then?’
‘I might change my mind. Sparhawk’s a Church Knight, your Grace, and you’re a patriarch. Why don’t you order him to see if he can persuade me? Sometimes I persuade easily – sometimes not. It all depends on the persuader.’
‘I think we’ve concluded our business here,’ Dolmant said. ‘Good day, Princess.’ He turned on his heel and started across the winter-brown lawn of the garden.
‘Come back sometime when you can leave your stuffy friend behind, Sparhawk,’ Arissa said. ‘We could amuse ourselves.’
He turned without answering and followed the patriarch out of the garden. ‘I think we’ve wasted our time,’ he muttered, his face dark and angry.
‘Ah, no, my boy,’ Dolmant said serenely. ‘In her haste to be offensive, the princess overlooked an important point in canon law. She has just made a free admission in the presence of two ecclesiastical witnesses – you and me. That has all the validity of a signed statement. All it takes is our oaths as to what she said.’
Sparhawk blinked. ‘Dolmant,’ he said, ‘you’re the most devious man I’ve ever known.’
‘I’m glad you approve, my son.’ The patriarch smiled.
Chapter 12
They left Kurik’s farmstead early the following morning. Aslade and her four sons stood in the doorway waving as they rode out. Kurik remained behind for a few personal farewells, promising to catch up with them a bit later.
‘Are we going through the city?’ Kalten asked Sparhawk.
‘I don’t think so,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘We can take the road that goes around the north side. I’m fairly sure that we’ll be seen, but let’s not make it easy for them.’
‘Would you mind a personal observation?’
‘Probably not.’
‘You really ought to give some thought to letting Kurik retire, you know. He’s getting older and he should be spending more time with his family instead of trailing along behind you all over the world. Besides, so far as I know, you’re the only Church Knight who still has a squire. The rest of us have learned to get along without them. Give him a good pension and let him stay home.’
Sparhawk squinted at the sun which was just rising above the wooded hilltop lying to the east of Demos. ‘You’re probably right,’ he agreed, ‘but how would I go about telling him? My father placed Kurik in my service before I completed my novitiate. It has to do with being hereditary Champion of the royal house of Elenia.’ He smiled wryly. ‘It’s an archaic position that requires archaic usages. Kurik’s a friend more than a squire, and I’m not going to hurt him by telling him that he’s too old to serve any more.’
‘It’s a problem, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ Sparhawk said, ‘it is.’
Kurik came riding up behind them as they were passing the cloister where Princess Arissa was confined. His bearded face was a bit glum, but then he straightened his shoulders and assumed a businesslike expression.
Sparhawk looked gravely at his friend, trying to imagine life without him. Then he shook his head. It was totally impossible.
The road leading towards Chyrellos passed through an evergreen forest where the morning sun streamed down through the boughs to spatter the forest floor with gold. The air was crisp and bright, although there was no frost. After they had gone about a mile farther, Berit resumed his narrative. ‘The Knights of the Church were consolidating their position in Rendor,’ he told Talen, ‘when word reached Chyrellos that Emperor Otha of Zemoch had massed a huge army and was marching into Lamorkand.’
‘Wait a minute,’ Talen interrupted him. ‘When did all this happen?’
‘About five hundred years ago.’
‘It wasn’t the same Otha Kalten was talking about the other day then, was it?’
‘So far as we know, it was.’
‘That’s impossible, Berit.’
‘Otha is perhaps nineteen hundred years old,’ Sephrenia told the boy
‘I thought this was a history,’ Talen accused, ‘not a fairy tale.’
‘When Otha was a boy, he encountered the Elder God Azash,’ she explained. ‘The Elder Gods of Styricum have great powers and are not controlled by any form of morality. One of the gifts they can bestow upon their followers is the gift of a greatly expanded lifetime. That is why some men are willing to follow them.’
‘Immortality?’ he asked her sceptically.
‘No,’ she corrected, ‘not that. No God can bestow that.’
‘The Elene God can,’ Dolmant said, ‘in a spiritual sense, anyway’
‘That’s an interesting theological point, your Grace.’ She smiled. ‘Someday we’ll have to discuss it. Anyway,’ she continued, ‘when Otha agreed to worship Azash, the God granted him enormous power, and Otha eventually became Emperor of Zemoch. The Styrics and the Elenes in Zemoch have intermarried, and so a Zemoch is not truly a member of either race.’
‘An abomination in the eyes of God,’ Dolmant added.
‘The Styric Gods feel much the same way,’ Sephrenia agreed. She looked at Talen again. ‘To understand Otha and Zemoch –one needs to understand Azash. He is the most totally evil force on earth. The rites of the worship of him are obscene. He delights in perversion and in blood and in the agonies of sacrificial victims. In their worship of him, the Zemochs have become much less than human, and their incursion into Lamorkand was accompanied by unspeakable horrors. Had the invading armies been only Zemochs, however, they might have been met and turned back by conventional forces. But Azash had reinforced them with creatures from the underworld.’