‘Oh. That makes sense – sort of.’
They arrived at the house of Sir Bevier’s cousin the Marquis Lycien, late one afternoon, and met Bevier and his stout, florid-faced kinsman in the gravelled court in front of Lycien’s opulent home. The Marquis bowed deeply to the Queen of Elenia and insisted that she accept his hospitality during her stay in Madel. Kalten dispersed the knights in Lycien’s park-like grounds.
‘Did you find a carriage?’ Sparhawk asked Bevier.
Bevier nodded. ‘It’s large enough for our purposes,’ he said a bit dubiously, ‘but the cost of it may turn Patriarch Emban’s hair white.’
‘I wouldn’t be too sure,’ Sparhawk said. ‘Let’s ask him.’ They crossed the gravelled court to where the Patriarch of Ucera stood beside his horse, clinging to his saddle-horn with a look of profound misery on his face.
‘Pleasant little ride, wasn’t it, your Grace?’ Sparhawk asked the fat man brightly.
Emban groaned. ‘I don’t think I’ll be able to walk for a week.’
‘Of course we were only strolling,’ Sparhawk continued. ‘We’ll have to move along much faster when we get to Tamuli.’ He paused. ‘May I speak frankly, your Grace?’
‘You will anyway, Sparhawk,’ Emban said sourly. ‘Would you really pay any attention to me if I objected?’
‘Probably not. You’re slowing us down, you know.’
‘Well, excuse me.’
‘You’re not really built for horseback riding, Patriarch Emban. Your talent’s in your head, not your backside.’
Emban’s eyes narrowed with hostility. ‘Go on,’ he said in an ominous tone of voice.
‘Since we’re in a hurry, we’ve decided to put wheels under you. Would you be more comfortable in a cushioned carriage, your Grace?’
‘Sparhawk, I could kiss you!’
‘I’m a married man, your Grace. My wife might misunderstand. For security reasons, one carriage is far better than two, so I’ve taken the liberty of locating one that’s somewhat larger than the one Ehlana rode down from Chyrellos. You wouldn’t mind riding with her, would you? We thought we’d put you and Ambassador Oscagne in the carriage with my queen and her attendants. Would that be satisfactory?’
‘Did you want me to kiss the ground you’re standing on, Sparhawk?’
‘Oh, that won’t be necessary, your Grace. All you really have to do is sign the authorisation for the carriage. This is urgent Church business, after all, so the purchase of the carriage is fully justified, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Where do I sign?’ Emban’s expression was eager.
‘A carriage that large is expensive, your Grace,’ Sparhawk warned him.
‘I’d pawn the Basilica itself if it’d keep me out of that saddle.’
‘You see?’ Sparhawk said to Bevier as they walked away. ‘That wasn’t hard at all, was it?’
‘How did you know he’d agree so quickly?’
‘Timing, Bevier, timing. Later on, he might have objected to the price. You need to ask that sort of question while the man you’re asking is still in pain.’
‘You’re a cruel fellow, Sparhawk,’ Bevier laughed.
‘All sorts of people have said that to me from time to time,’ Sparhawk replied blandly.
‘My people will finish loading the supplies for your voyage today, Sparhawk,’ Marquis Lycien said as they rode toward the riverside village and its wharves on the edge of his estate. ‘You’ll be able to sail with the morning tide.’
‘You’re a true friend, my Lord,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘You’re always here when we need you.’
‘You’re exaggerating my benevolence, Sir Sparhawk,’ Lycien laughed. ‘I’m making a very handsome profit by outfitting your vessels.’
‘I like to see friends get on in the world.’
Lycien looked back over his shoulder at the Queen of Elenia, who rode a grey palfrey some distance to the rear. ‘You’re the luckiest man in the world, Sparhawk,’ he observed. ‘Your wife is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.’
‘I’ll tell her you said that, Marquis Lycien. I’m sure she’ll be pleased.’
Ehlana and Emban had decided to accompany them as they rode down to the Marquis’ enclave on the river, Ehlana to inspect the accommodations aboard ship, and Emban to have a look at the carriage he had just purchased.
The flotilla moored to Lycien’s wharves consisted of a dozen large, well-fitted vessels, ships which made the merchantmen moored nearby look scruffy by comparison.
Lycien led the way through the village which had grown up around the wharves toward the river, which sparkled in the morning sun.
‘Master Cluff!’ The voice was not unlike a fog-horn.
Sparhawk turned in his saddle. ‘Well strike me down if it isn’t Captain Sorgi!’ he said with genuine pleasure. He liked the blunt, silvery-haired sea captain with whom he had spent so many hours. He swung down from Faran’s back and warmly clasped his friend’s hand.
‘I haven’t seen you in a dog’s age, Master Cluff,’ Sorgi said expansively. ‘Are you still running from those cousins?’
Sparhawk pulled a long face and sighed mournfully. It was just too good an opportunity to pass up. he replied in a broken voice, ‘not any more, I’m afraid. I made the mistake of staying in an ale-house in Apalia up in northern Pelosia for one last tankard. The cousins caught up with me there.’
‘Were you able to escape?’ Sorgi’s face mirrored his concern.
‘There were a dozen of them, Captain, and they were on me before I could even move. They clapped me in irons and took me to the estate of the ugly heiress I told you about.’
‘They didn’t force you to marry her, did they?’ Sorgi asked, sounding shocked.
‘I’m afraid so, my friend,’ Sparhawk said in a tragic voice. ‘That’s my wife on that grey horse there.’ He pointed at the radiant Queen of Elenia.
Captain Sorgi stared, his eyes growing wider and his mouth gaping open.
‘Horrible, isn’t it?’ Sparhawk said with a brokenhearted catch in his voice.
Chapter 8 (#ulink_14080882-e789-595b-889c-875b8f496636)
Baroness Melidere was a pretty girl with hair the colour of honey and eyes as blue as a summer sky. She did not have a brain in her head – at least that was what she wanted people to believe. In actuality, the baroness was probably more clever than most of the people in Ehlana’s court, but she had learned early in life that people with limited intelligence feel threatened by pretty, clever young women, and she had perfected a vapid, empty-headed smile, a look of blank incomprehension and a silly giggle. She erected these defences as the situation required and kept her own counsel.
Queen Ehlana saw through the subterfuge and even encouraged it. Melidere was very observant and had excellent hearing. People tend not to pay much attention to brainless girls, and they say things in their presence they might not ordinarily say. Melidere always reported these conversational lapses back to the queen, and so Ehlana found the baroness useful to have around.
Melidere, however, drove Stragen absolutely wild. He knew with complete certainty that she could not be as stupid as she appeared, but he could never catch her off guard.
Alean, the queen’s maid, was quite another matter. Her mind was very ordinary, but her nature was such that people automatically loved her. She was sweet, gentle and very loving. She had brown hair and enormous, soft brown eyes. She was shy and modest and seldom spoke. Kalten looked upon her as his natural prey, much as the wolf looks upon deer with a proprietary sense of ownership. Kalten was fond of maids. They did not usually threaten him, and he could normally proceed with them without any particular fear of failure.
