2 - The Ruby Knight

by The Ruby Knight [lit]

  order so that I can serve God more personally.'

  'We're going to have to find some nice accommodating

  girl for that boy, Sparhawk,' Ulath muttered. 'Let's get

  him involved in some serious sin so that he gives up that

  notion. He's too good a man to waste by putting him in a

  cassock.'

  'How about Naween?' Talen, who stood beside them,

  suggested.

  'Who's Naween?' Ulath asked.

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  'The best whore in Cimmura.' Talen shrugged. "She's

  enthusiastic about her work. Sparhawk's met her.'

  'Really?' Ulath said, looking at Sparhawk with one

  raised eyebrow.

  "It was on business,' Sparhawk said shortly.

  'Of course - but yours or hers?'

  'Do you suppose we could drop this?' Sparhawk

  cleared his throat and then looked around to make sure

  that none of King WarGun's soldiers was within earshot.

  'We've got to get clear of this lot before Ghwerig gets too

  far ahead of us,' he said.

  'Tonight,' Tynian suggested. 'Rumour has it that King

  Wargun drinks himself to sleep every night. We should

  be able to slip away without too much problem.'

  'We surely cannot disobey the direct command of the

  Patriarch of Emsat,' Bevier said in a shocked tone.

  ,'Of course not, Bevier,' Kalten said easily. 'We'll just

  slip out and find some country vicar or the abbot of a

  monastery and get him to order us to go back to what we

  were doing.'

  'That's immoral!' Bevier gasped.

  "I know,' Kalten smirked. 'Disgusting, isn't it?'

  'But it is technically legitimate, Bevier,' Tynian assured

  the young Cyrinic. 'A bit devious, I'll admit, but still

  legitimate. We're oath-bound to follow the orders of

  consecrated members of the clergy. The order of a vicar

  or an abbot would supersede the order of Patriarch

  Bergsten, wouldn't it?' Tynian's eyes were wide and

  innocent.

  Bevier looked at him helplessly, and then he began to

  laugh. "I think he's going to be all right, Sparhawk,' Ulath

  said, 'but let's keep your friend Naween in reserve - just

  in case.'

  'Who's Naween?' Bevier asked, puzzled.

  'An acquaintance of mine,' Sparhawk replied

  distantly. "Someday I may introduce you.'

  "I'd be honoured,' Bevier said sincerely.

  Talen went off some distance and collapsed in helpless

  laughter.

  They caught up with the mob of disconsolate-looking

  Pelosian conscripts late that afternoon. As Sparhawk had

  feared, the perimeter of their encampment was being

  patrolled by WarGun's heavily armed thugs.

  The soldiers set up a pavilion for them just before

  sunset, and they went inside. Sparhawk removed his

  armour and put on a mail-shirt instead. 'The rest of you

  wait here,' he said. "I want to take a look around before it

  gets dark.' He put on his sword-belt and stepped out of

  the tent.

  There were two evil-looking Thalesians outside.

  'Where do you think you're ' going?' one of them

  demanded.

  Sparhawk gave him a flat, unfriendly stare and waited.

  My Lord,' the fellow grudgingly added.

  "I want to check on my horse,' Sparhawk said.

  'We have farriers to do that, Sir Knight.'

  'We're not going to have an argument about this, are

  we, neighbour?'

  'Ah - no, I don't think so, Sir Knight.'

  'Good. Where are the horses picketed?'

  "I'll show you, Sir Sparhawk.'

  'There's no need of that. Just tell me.'

  "I have to accompany you anyway, Sir Knight. The

  King's orders.'

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  "I see. Lead on then.'

  As they started out, Sparhawk heard a sudden

  boisterous voice. 'Ho there, Sir Knight!' He looked

  around.

  "I see they got you and your friends too.' It was Kring

  the Domi of the marauding band of Peloi.

  'Hello, my friend,' Sparhawk greeted the shaven-headed

  tribesman. 'Did you catch up with those

  Zemochs?'

  Kring laughed. "I've got a whole sack-ful of ears,' he

  said. 'They tried to make a stand. Stupid people, the

  Zemochs. But then King Soros took up with this rag-tag

  army, and we had to follow along in order to collect the

  bounty.' He rubbed at his shaved head. 'That's all right,

  though. We didn't have anything Pressing to do back

  home anyway, now that the mares have all foaled. Tell

  me, do you still have that young thief with you?'

  'Last time I looked, he was still around. Of course he

  might have stolen a few things and then bolted. He bolts

  very well when the occasion demands it.'

  'I'll wager he does, Sir Knight, I'll wager he does.

  How's my friend Tynian? I saw you all when you rode in,

  and I was just on my way to visit him.'

  'He's well.'

  'Good.' The Domi looked seriously at Sparhawk then.

  'Perhaps you can give me some information about

  military etiquette, Sir Knight. I've never been a part of a

  formal army before. What are the general rules about

  pillage?'

  "I don't think anybody would get too concerned,'

  Sparhawk replied, 'as long as you limit your plundering

  to the enemy dead. It's considered bad form to loot

  the bodies of our own soldiers.'

  'Stupid rule, that one,' Kring sighed. 'What does a

  dead man care about possessions? How about rape?'

  "It's frowned on. We'll be in Arcium, and that's a

  friendly country. Arcians are sensitive about their

  women-folk. WarGun's gathered up a fair number of

  camp-followers if those urges are bothering you.'

  'Camp-followers always act so bored. Give me a nice

  young virgin every time. You know, this campaign is

  turning out to be less and less enjoyable. How about

  arson? I love a good fire.'

  "I'd definitely advise against it. As I said, we'll be in

  Arcium, and all the towns and houses belong to the

  people who live there. I'm sure they'd object.'

  'Civilized warfare leaves a lot to be desired, doesn't it,

  SIr Knight?'

  'What can I say, Domi?' Sparhawk apologized, spreading

  his hands helplessly.

  'if you don't mind my saying so, it's the armour, I

  think. You people are so encased in steel that you lose

  sight of the main things - booty, women, horses. It's a

  failing, Sir Knight.'

  "It is a failing, Domi,' Sparhawk conceded. 'Centuries

  of tradition, you understand.'

  'There's nothing wrong with tradition - as long as

  it doesn't get in the way of important things.'

  "I'll bear that in mind, Domi. Our tent's right over

  there. Tynian will be glad to see you.' Sparhawk followed

  the Thalesian sentry on through the camp to where the

  horses were picketed. He made some pretence of checking

  Faran's hooves, looking intently out into the twilight

  at the perimeter of the camp. As he had noted earlier,
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  there were dozens of men riding around the outside.

  'Why so many patrols?' he asked the Thalesian.

  'The Pelosian conscripts are unenthusiastic about this

  campaign, Sir Knight,' the warrior replied. 'We didn't go

  to all the trouble of gathering them up only to have them

  sneak off in the middle of the night.'

  "I see,' Sparhawk said. 'We can go back now.'

  'Yes, My Lord.'

  WarGun's patrols seriously complicated things, not to

  mention the presence of the two sentries outside their

  tent. Ghwerig was getting farther and farther away with

  Bhelliom, and it seemed that there was very little

  Sparhawk could do about it. He knew that by himself,

  using a mixture of stelth and main force, he could

  escape from the camp, but what would that accomplish?

  Without Flute, he'd have little chance of tracking down

  the fleeing Troll, and to take her along without the others

  to help guard her would be to place her in unacceptable

  danger. They were going to have to come up with some

  other idea.

  The Thalesian warrior was leading him past the tent of

  some Pelosian conscripts when he saw a familiar face.

  'Occuda?' he said incredulously. 'is that you?'

  The lantern-jawed man in bull-hide armour rose to his

  feet, his bleak face showing no particular pleasure at the

  meeting. "I'm afraid it is, My Lord,' he said.

  'What happened? What forced you to leave Count

  Ghasek?'

  Occuda looked briefly at the men who shared the tent

  with him. 'Might we discuss this privately, Sir

  Sparhawk?'

  'Certainly, Occuda.'

  'Over there, My Lord.'

  "I'll be in plain sight,

  Together Sparhawk and Occuda walked away from the

  tent and stopped near a grove of sapling fir trees that

  stood so closely together that they precluded the possibility

  of anyone's pitching a tent among them.

  'The count has fallen ill, My Lord,' Occuda said

  sombrely.

  'And you left him alone with that madwoman? I'm

  disappointed in you, Occuda.

  'The circumstances have changed somewhat, My

  Lord.'

  'Oh?'

  'The Lady Bellina is dead now.'

  'What happened to her?'

  "I killed her.' Occuda said it in a numb voice. "I could no

  longer bear her endless screaming. At first the herbs the

  Lady Sephrenia advised quieted Bellina somewhat, but

  after a short while, she seemed to shake off their effects. I

  tried to increase the dosage, but to no avail. Then one

  night as I was pushing her supper through that slot in the

  tower wall, I saw her. She was raving and frothing at the

  mouth like a rabid dog. She was obviously in agony.

  That's when I made the decision to put her to rest.'

  'We all knew it might come to that,' Sparhawk said

  gravely.

  'Perhaps. I could not bring myself to simply slaughter

  her, however. The herbs no longer quieted her. The

  nightshade, however, did. She stopped screaming

  shortly after I gave it to her. ' There were tears in Occuda's

  eyes. "I took my sledge and broke a hole in the tower wall.

  Then I did as you instructed with my axe. I've never done

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  anything so difficult in my life. I wrapped her body in

  canvas and took her outside the castle. There I burned

  her. After what I had done, I could not face the count. I

  left him a note confessing my crime and then went to a

  woodcutter's village not far from the castle. I hired

  servants there to care for the count. Even after I told them

  there was no longer any danger at the castle, I had to pay

  them double wages to get them to agree. Then I came

  away from that place and joined this army. I hope the

  fighting starts soon. Everything in my life is over. All I

  want now is to die.'

  'You did what you had to do, Occuda.'

  'Perhaps, but that does not absolve me of my guilt.'

  Sparhawk made a decision at that point. 'Come with

  me,' he said.

  'Where are we going, My Lord?'

  'To see the Patriarch of Emsat.'

  "I could not enter the presence of a high churchman

  with Lady Bellina's blood on my hands.'

  'Patriarch Bergsten is a Thalesian. I doubt that he's

  very squeamish. We need to see the Patriarch of Emsat,

  he told his Thalesian escort. 'Take us to his tent.'

  'Yes, My Lord.'

  The sentry led them through the camp to the pavilion

  of Patriarch Bergsten. Bergsten's brutish face looked

  particularly Thalesian by candle-light. He had heavy

  bone ridges across his brows, and his cheek-bones and

  jaw were prominent. He was still wearing his mail-shirt

  although he had removed his Ogre-horned helmet and

  stood his axe in the corner.

  'Your Grace,' Sparhawk said with a bow, 'my friend

  here has a problem of a spiritual nature. I wonder if you

  could help him?'

  'That is my calling, Sir Sparhawk,' the Patriarch

  replied.

  'Thank you, Your Grace. Occuda here was at one time

  a monk. Then he entered the service of a count in

  northern Pelosia. The count's sister became involved

  with an evil cult, and she began to practise rites involving

  human sacrifice, which gave her certain powers.'

  Bergsten's eyes widened.

  'At any rate,' Sparhawk continued, 'when the count's

  sister was finally stripped of those powers, she went

  mad, and her brother was forced to confine her. Occuda

  took care of her until he could no longer bear her agonies.

  Then, out of compassion, he poisoned her.'

  'That's a dreadful story, Sir Sparhawk,' Bergsten said

  in his deep voice.

  "It was a dreadful series of events,' Sparhawk agreed.

  'Occuda feels overcome with guiltt now, and he's' convinced

  that his soul is lost. Can you absolve him so that

  he can face the rest of his life?'

  The armoured Patriarch Bergsten looked thoughtfully

  at Ocuda's suffering face, his eyes at once shrewd and

  compassionate. He seemed to consider the matter for

  several moments, then he straightened, and his expression

  grew hard. 'No, Sir Sparhawk, I can't,' he said flatly.

  Sparhawk was' about to protest, but the Patriarch

  raised one thick hand. He looked at the hulking Pelosian.

  'Occuda,' he said sternly, 'you were once a monk?'

  "I was, Your Grace.'

  'Good. This shall be your penance then. You will

  resume your monk's habit, Brother Occuda, and you will

  enter my service. When I have decided that you have

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  paid for your sin, I wil grant you absolution.'

  'Y-your Grace,' Occuda sobbed, falling to his knees,

  'how can I ever thank you?'

  Bergsten smiled bleakly."You may change your mind

  in time, Brother Occuda. You will find that I'm a very
<
br />   hard master. You'll pay for your sin many times over

  before your soul is washed clean. Now, go gather your

  possessions. You'll be moving in here with me.'

  'Yes, Your Grace.' Occuda rose and left the tent.

  'if you don't mind my saying so, Your Grace,

  Sparhawk said, 'you are a very devious man.'

  'No, not really, Sir Sparhawk.' The huge churchman

  smiled. "It's just that I've had enough experience to know

  that the human spirit is a very complex thing. Your friend

  feels that he must suffer in order to expiate his sin, and if I

  were simply to absolve him, he would always doubt that

  he had been thoroughly cleansed. He feels that he has to

  suffer, so I'll make sure that he suffers - in moderation, of

  course. I'm not a monster, after all.'

  'Was what he did really a sin?'

  'Of course not. He acted out of mercy. He'll make a

  very good monk, and after I think he's suffered long

  enough I'll find a nice quiet monastery somewhere and

  make him the abbot. He'll be too busy to brood about

  things, and the Church wil get a good, faithful abbot.

  This is not to mention all those years when I'll have his

  services at no cost.'

  'You're not really a very nice man, Your Grace.'

  "I have never pretended to be, my son. That will be all,

  Sir Sparhawk. Go with my blessing.' The Patriarch

  winked slyly.

  'Thank you, Your Grace,' Sparhawk said without

  cracking a smile.

  He felt somehow very pleased with himself as he and

  the sentry walked back across the camp. He might not

  always be able to solve his own problems, but he

  certainly seemed able to solve those of others.

  'Kring was telling us that the outside of the camp is

  being patrolled,' Tynian said when Sparhawk re-entered

  the tent. 'That's going to make it more difficult to get

  away, isn't it?'

  'Much more,' Sparhawk agreed.

  'Oh,' Tynian added. 'Flute's been asking some questions

  about distances. Kurik looked in the packs, but he

  couldn't find your map.'

  "It's in my saddle-bag.'

  "I should have thought of that, I suppose,' Kurik said.

  'What is it you want to know?' Sparhawk asked the

  little girl, opening his saddle-bag for the map.

  'How far is it from this Agnak place to Acie?'

  Sparhawk spread his map out on the table in the centre

  of the pavilion.

  "It's a very pretty Picture, but it doesn't answer my

  question,' she said.

  Sparhawk measured it off. "It's about three hundred