Elder Isles 2: The Green Pearl (39 page)

Aillas and Tatzel turned away from the counter. “Claim all you like,” said Aillas. “I own no horses. Yesterday, before our arrival, I traded them for a boat. Dildahl, farewell!”

THE BOAT WAS A CLINKER-PLANK SKIFF fifteen feet long with copper-riveted seams, a sprit-sail, lee-boards and a rudder swung off the transom in the new manner.

Aillas rowed the skiff out into the lake, raised the sail to a morning breeze from the west and the boat scudded northward down the lake with the wake gurgling behind.

Tatzel made herself comfortable in the bow, and Aillas thought that she seemed to be enjoying the freshness of the morning. Presently she looked over her shoulder: “Now where are you bound?”

“As before, to Dun Cruighre in Godelia.”

“Is that close to Xounges?”

“Xounges is immediately across the Skyre.”

Tatzel said no more. Aillas wondered as to her interest but forebore to ask.

For two days they sailed the lake, passing the twelve Druid islets, and discovering on one a giant crow built of wicker-work, which provoked Tatzels wonder. Aillas told her: “In the fall, on the eve of the day they call ‘Suaurghille’, they will set the crow afire and conduct a great orgy below. Inside the crow will burn two dozen of their enemies. If we set foot on the island we would burn with the others. Sometimes it will be a horse, or a man, or a bear, or a bull.”

At its northern end the lake became shallow and choked with reeds, but at length spilled out to become the headwaters of the River Solander. Three days later Aillas looked ahead to see the bluffs which flanked the Solander Estuary. On the right was the Kingdom of Dahaut; on the left, North Ulfland still.

The estuary opened into the Skyre, and the skiff rode over larger waves than it might have liked, and far larger than Tatzel found comfortable, while the scent of salt water hung in the air. With the wind blowing brisk from the west, the skiff plunged ahead at four or five knots, throwing back cold spray, to add to Tatzel’s discomfort.

Ahead, on the left, at the end of a stony peninsula, rose the fortified town Xounges; on the right now was Godelia, the land of the Celts, and at last Dun Cruighre came into view.

Aillas looked along the docks and to his delight discovered not only a large Troice cargo cog, but also one of his new warships.

Aillas sailed the skiff up to the side the warship. The sailors on deck looked curiously down. One called: “Ahoy there, fellow! Stand clear! What do you think you are up to?”

Aillas called up: “Drop me a ladder and call the captain.”

A ladder was lowered; Aillas made fast the skiff, steadied the ladder while Tatzel climbed to the deck, then he too followed. By this time the capain had appeared. Aillas took him aside. “Sir, do you recognize me?”

The captain looked hard, and his eyes widened. “Your Majesty! What do you here in this condition?”

“It is a long story which I will tell you presently. For now, know me merely as ‘Aillas’, no more. I am, so to speak, incognito.”

“Just as you say, sir.”

“The lady is Ska and under my protection. See if you can find her a place of privacy; let her bathe and give her clean clothes; she has been sick for three days now and would as soon die as live.”

“At once, sir! And you will be wanting something of the same, I take it?”

“If it is not too inconvenient for you, I would welcome a bath and a change of clothes.”

“My convenience, sir, is not to be considered. Our facilities are not luxurious, but they are yours to command.”

“Thank you, but first: what is the news from South Ulfiand?”

“I can only give a third-hand report, but it is said that a Ska army from Suarach was caught in the open country by one of our armies. There was a great battle of a sort which will long be remembered. The Ska were sorely beset, and then another of our armies marching down from the east struck them from the rear and they were destroyed. I am told that Suarach is once more an Ulf city.”

“And all this occurred during my absence,” said Aillas.

“It appears that I am not as indispensable as I would like to think.”

“As to that, sir, I cannot say. We have been sailing the Narrow Sea, interdicting the Ska, and we have caused them great trouble. We are here now only to take on supplies. In fact, we were close upon casting off when you came aboard.”

“What of King Gax across the way in Xounges? Is he still alive?”

“It is said that he is finally dying and a Ska puppet will be the next king; that is the news which has come to us.”

“Hold off your departure, if you will, and also show me where I can clean myself.”

Half an hour later, Aillas encountered Tatzel in the captain’s cabin. She had discarded her old garments, bathed and now wore a gown of dark maroon linen which one of the seamen had been sent ashore to buy in the market. She came slowly close to Aillas and put her hands on his shoulders. “Aillas, take me, if you please, to Xounges and put me ashore on the dock! My father is now there on a special mission. I want nothing so much as to join him.” Tatzel searched Aillas’ face. “You are not truly an unkind man! I implore you, let me go free! I can offer you nothing but my body which you seem not to want, but you may have me now, and gladly, if you will deliver me to Xounges! Or if you want none of me, my father will reward you!”

“Indeed!” said Aillas. “How?”

“First, he will remit your slavery forever; you need never fear recapture! He will give you gold, enough that you may take up a piece of land in Troicinet, and never know want.”

Aillas, looking into the mournful face, could not resist a laugh. “Tatzel, you are most persuasive. We shall go to Xounges.”

WHILE AILLAS with his unsatisfactory slave Tatzel traversed the wilds of North Ulfland, events elsewhere about the Elder Isles were not therefore held in abeyance.

At Lyonesse Town, Queen Sollace and her spiritual adviser Father Umphred inspected drawings for the prospective cathedral which they hoped might rear a magnificent facade above the end of the Chale and bring an ecstasy of religious awe upon all who saw it.

Queen Sollace, should the cathedral be built, had been assured of sanctification and eternal bliss by Father Umphred, whose own rewards would be somewhat more modest: the Archbishopric of the Lyonesse Diocese.

In view of King Casmir’s obdurate resistance, Queen Sollace had become less confident in her hopes. Father Umphred, time and time again, reassured her: “Dear lady, dear lady! Never allow the shades of despair to mar the regal beauty of your cheeks! Discouragement? Expel the word: down, down, down! Into the odious quagmire of guilt, heresy and vice where wallow the benighted folk of this world!”

Sollace sighed. “Your words are good to hear, but virtue alone, even when joined with a thousand prayers and tears of holy passion, will not melt the soul of Casmir.”

“Not so, dear lady! I have words to whisper in the ear of King Casmir which might mean two or even four cathedrals! But they must be whispered at the proper moment!”

Father Umphred’s encouragement was nothing new; he had hinted in this manner on other occasions, and Queen Sollace had learned to control her curiosity with a sniff and a toss of the head.

As for King Casmir, he wanted no dilution of his authority. His subjects espoused a great variety of beliefs: Zoroastrianism, a whiff or two of Christianity, Pantheism, Draidical doctrine, a few fragments of classic Roman theology, somewhat more of the Gothic system, all on a substratum of ancient animism and Pelasgian Mysteries. Such a melange of religions suited King Casmir well; he wanted nothing to do with an orthodoxy deriving from Rome, and Sollace’s talk of a cathedral had become a vexation.

At Falu Ffall in Avallon, King Audry sat with his feet in a basin of warm soapy water, in preparation for the royal pedicure, meanwhile listening to despatches from sources near and far, as read by Malrador, the underchamberlain entrusted with this thankless task.

King Audry was especially distressed by the news from Sir Lavrilan dal Ponzo, who, at King Audry’s orders and using tactics suggested by two of Audry’s intimates, Sir Arthemus and Sir Gligory, had conducted a grand sortie into Wysrod, where he had been repulsed by the Celts.

Sir Lavrilan earnestly requested reinforcements, and cited the need for light cavalry and archers; the pikemen and young knights recommended by Arthemus and Gligory had fared poorly against the boisterous Celts.

King Audry sat back into the cushions of his chair, and threw his hands high in disgust. “What went wrong this time? I am baffled by these ineptitudes! No, Malrador, I will hear no more! Already you have soured my day with your croaking; sometimes I suspect that you enjoy making me miserable!”

“Your Majesty!” cried Malrador. “How can you think that of me? I do my duty, no more! And, respectfully, I urge that you hear this last despatch; it came in only an hour ago from the marches. It seems that notable events are afoot in the Ulflands, regarding which your Majesty must be apprised.”

King Audry surveyed Malrador through half-closed eyelids, his head thrown back into the cushions. “Often I toy with the notion of requiring you not only to read the despatches, but also to answer them, thus sparing me the vexation.”

At this humourous sally, Sir Arthemus and Sir Gligory, sitting nearby, gave appreciative chuckles.

Malrador bowed. “Sire, I would never dare to so presume. This then is the news from Sir Samfire of the marches.” Malrador went on to read the despatch, which told of Troice and Ulfish successes against the Ska. Sir Samfire went on to make recommendations, using language which aroused King Audry to forget the situation and stamp his feet. Two maidens and the barber came running to remove the basin and prop Audry’s feet on a cushioned stool, so that the pedicure might proceed. The barber said politely: “Sire, I suggest that you hold your feet motionless while I am cutting your toenails.”

Audry muttered: “Yes, yes. … I am astonished by Samfire’s language! Does he think to dictate my strategies?”

Arthemus and Gligory clicked their tongues and made sounds of perturbation. Malrador incautiously said: “Your Majesty, I believe that Samfire merely attempts to put the significance of the events into clear perspective, for your maximum information.”

“Ta-ta-ta, Malrador! Now you take his part against me! These are distant events, beyond the marches, and all the while we are mocked by these infuriating Celts! They lack all awe of great Dahaut! Bah! They must be punished. I will drown them in their own blood, since that seems to be their choice. Arthemus? Gligory? Why are we so bedevilled? Answer me that! By boors and lumpkins smelling of cow! What is the explanation?”

Arthemus and Gligory made indignant gestures and pulled at their mustaches. King Audry turned bitterly back to Malrador. “Well then, you have had your way; now are you done? Always you bring me worries when I am least in the mood to deal with them!”

“Sire, it is my task to read the dispatches. If I concealed unfavorable news from you, then indeed you would have cause to reprimand me.”

King Audry heaved a sigh. “That is true enough. Malrador, you are a faithful fellow! Go, and write these words on parchment: ‘Sir Lavrilan dal Ponzo: we extend our best regards! It is time that you wiped the butter from your chin and, perhaps by example, inculcated your troops with a mood of full pugnacity! Only last month you assured me that we would break the heads of a thousand Celtic fools; what fol-de-rol will you tell me next?’ Then affix my seal, subscribe my signature and send off this despatch by fast courier.”

“Very good, sire. It shall be done, and your reprimand shall be effected.”

“It is more than a mere reprimand, Malrador! It is an order! I want to see Celtic heads grinning from the ends of our pikes; I want the might of Dahaut to send these buffoons flying and hopping like frightened rabbits!”

Malrador said gravely: “Sir Arthemus and Sir Gligory command crack brigades; why restrain their fire? They are both spoiling for a good fight!”

Arthemus and Gligory slapped their hands as if in enthusiasm. “Well said, Malrador! Go now and stir up Sir Lavrilan while we discuss affairs with his Highness!”

As soon as Malrador had departed, Arthemus and Gligory soothingly explained away the latest debacle in Wysrod, and turned the conversation to more pleasant subjects, and the three immersed themselves in plans for the entertainment of King Adolphe of Aquitaine, and so went affairs in Dahaut.

In other parts of the Elder Isles, Torqual, by sheer force of will resurrected himself from the edge of death. In her villa on the beach near Ys, Melancthe thought unfathomable thoughts. At Swer Smod and Trilda respectively, Murgen and Shimrod kept to their manses, and occupied themselves with their researches. Tamurello, however, was absent from Faroli, and according to the magician Raught Raven, had taken himself to the peak of a high mountain in Ethiopia, for a period of meditation.

And the Green Pearl? A pair of young goblins, coming upon Manting’s naked white skeleton, played games with the bones: kicking the skull back and forth, wearing the pelvis as a helmet, and throwing the vertebrae at a party of dryads, who quickly climbed into the trees and taunted the goblins in sweet high voices.

Forest mold covered the pearl ever deeper. So passed the summer and autumn and winter. With the coming of spring, seeds began to germinate in that area close upon the buried pearl. Young plants sent up shoots, which grew with unusual vigor, sending out a profusion of lush leaves followed by wonderful flowers, each different from the rest and like no other flower ever seen before.

XOUNGES HAD BEEN A FORTIFIED PLACE since before the beginning of history. The town occupied a flat-topped knob of stone bounded on three sides by cliffs rising a sheer two hundred feet from the water. On the fourth side a narrow saddle of granite something over a hundred yards long connected the town with the mainland.

The Ulfland of four centuries ago had been a powerful kingdom, comprising both North and South Ulfland (though not Ys or the Vale of Evander), Godelia and what were now the Marches of Dahaut, out past Poelitetz. At this time King Fidwig, in the full exercise of his megalomaniac might, decreed the total security of Xounges. Ten thousand men toiled twenty years, to achieve a system of fortifications based on walls of granite forty feet wide at the base and a hundred and twenty feet high, closing the causeway at its narrowest width, again where the causeway entered the town, then hooking out into the Skyre to protect the harbor from attack by sea.