A vast groan of shock and dismay ran through the crowd of Rendors.
Then the word ‘crossbow’ raced through the mob. A number of unfortunates had obtained such weapons from the Lamorks in one way or another. They were torn to pieces on the spot by their frenzied compatriots. A fair number of the black-robed men from the south ran off through the streets, howling and tearing at their garments.
Others slumped to the ground, weeping in despair. Still others stood staring in stunned disbelief at the place where Ulesim had only recently stood haranguing them. There was also, Sparhawk noticed, a fair amount of on-the-spot politics going on. There were those in the-crowd who felt that they had a claim on the recently-vacated position.
and they began to take steps to ensure their elevation to eminence, reasoning that power rests more securely in the hands of sole survivors. Adherents of this or that candidate joined in, and the huge crowd was soon embroiled in what could only be called a general riot.
‘Political discussion is quite spirited among the Rendors, isn’t it?’ Tynian observed mildly.
“I noticed that,’ Sparhawk agreed. “Let’s go and tell the Preceptors about Ulesim’s accident.’
Since the Rendors were now militantly indifferent to bridges, ramshorns or the impending battle, the commanders of Martel’s army saw that they had no chance whatsoever against the human sea on the far side of the river. Mercenaries are the most realistic of all soldiers, and soon a sizeable detachment of officers rode across one of the bridges under a flag of truce. They returned just before daybreak. The mercenary commanders conferred for a few moments, and then they formed up and, pushing the rioting Rendors ahead of them, they marched out of Chyrellos and laid down their arms in surrender.
Sparhawk and the others gathered atop the wall of the outer city right beside the open west gate as the kings of western Eosia rode quite formally across the bridge to enter the Holy City. King Wargun, flanked by the mailshirted Patriarch Bergsten, King Dregos of Arcium, King Soros of Pelosia and the ancient King Obler of Deira rode at the head of the column. Directly behind them came an ornate open carriage. Four people sat in the carriage. They were all robed and hooded, but the sheer bulk of one of them sent a chill through Sparhawk.
Surely they wouldn’t have – And then, apparently at some command from the slightest of them, the four pushed back their hoods. The fat one was Platime.
Stragen was the second’. The third was a woman whom Sparhawk did not recognize and the fourth, slender and blonde and looking altogether lovely, was Ehlana, Queen of Elenia.
*Chapter 16
Wargun’s entry into Chyrellos was hardly triumphant. The commoners of the Holy City had not been in a position to stay abreast of current affairs, and one army looks very much like another to ordinary people. For the most part, they stayed under cover as the kings of Eosia passed on their way to the Basilica.
Sparhawk had little chance to speak with his queen when they all arrived at the Basilica. He had things to say to her, of course , but they were not the sort of things he wanted to say in public. King Wargun gave his generals a few abrupt commands , and then they followed the Patriarch of Demos inside for one of the get-togethers which normally mark such occasions.
“I’ll have to admit that this Martel of yours is very %back in a chair with an ale tankard in his hand. They had gathered in a large, ornate meeting-room in the Basilica. The room had a long, polished table, a marble floor and thick burgundy drapes at the windows. The kings were present as were the Preceptors of the four orders, Patriarchs Dolmant, Emban, Ortzel and Bergsten and Sparhawk and the others, including Ulath, who still exhibited moments of vagueness but appeared to be on the mend. Sparhawk’s face was stony as he looked across the table at his bride-to-be. He had many things he wanted to say to Ehlana, and a few he was saving up for Platime and Stragen as well. He was controlling his temper with some difficulty.
‘After the burning of coombe,’ Wargun went on, ‘Martel took a weakly defended castle perched on top of a crag. He strengthened the defences, left a sizeable garrison there and then moved on to lay siege to Larium.
When we came up behind him, he fled east. Then he swung south, and finally he went west again towards Coombe. I spent weeks chasing him. It seemed that he’d led his whole army into that castle, and I settled down to starve him out.
What I didn’t know was that he’d been detaching whole regiments from his army to hide in the countryside as he marched, and so he reached that castle with no more than a very small force. He sent that force inside the walls and closed the gates, and then he rode away, leaving me to besiege an impregnable castle, and leaving him free to regather his forces and march on Chyrellos.’
“We sent a great many messages to you, Your Majesty,’
Patriarch Dolmant said.
‘I’m sure you did, Your Grace,’ Wargun said sourly, ‘but only one of them reached me. Martel cluttered most of Arcium with small bands of ambushers. I expect that most of your messengers are lying in ditches down there in God’s own rock-garden. Sorry, Dregos,’ he apologized to the Arcian King.
‘That’s all right, Wargun,’ King Dregos forgave him.
‘God had a reason for putting so much rock in Arcium.
Paving roads and building walls and castles gives my ~people something to do other than starting wars with each other. ‘
.If there were ambushers out, how did Anybody manage to reach you, Your Majesty?’ Dolmant asked.
“That was the strange part of it, Dolmant,’ Wargun replied, scratching at his tousled head. ‘I never really did get the straight of it. The fellow who got through is from Lamorkand, and it appears that he just rode openly all the way across Arcium and no one paid any attention to him. Either he’s the luckiest man alive or God loves him more than most – and he doesn’t look all that lovable to me. ‘
‘Is he nearby, Your Majesty?’ Sephrenia asked the King of Thalesia, her eyes strangely intent.
“I think so, little lady,’ Wargun belched. ‘He said something about wanting to make a report to the Patriarch of Kadach. He’s probably out there in the hall somewhere.’
‘Do you suppose we might ask him a few questions?’
‘Is it really important, Sephrenia?’ Dolmant asked her.
“Yes, Your Grace,’ she replied, “I think it might be.
There’s something I’d like to verify.’
“You,’ Wargun said sharply to one of the soldiers standing at the door, ‘see if you can find that seedy-looking Lamork who’s been trailing after us. Tell him to come in here. ‘
‘At once, Your Majesty.’
‘Naturally ‘“at once”. I gave an order, didn’t I? All my orders are obeyed at once.’ King Wargun was already on his fourth tankard of ale, and his grip on civility was beginning to slip. ‘Anyway,’ he went on, “the fellow arrived at that castle I was besieging no more than two weeks ago.
After I read his message, I gathered up the army and we all came here.
The Lamork who was escorted into the room was, as Wargun had said, a bit on the seedy-looking side. He was obviously neither a warrior nor Churchman. He had thin, lank, dun-coloured hair and a big nose.
‘Ah, Eck,’ Patriarch Ortzel said, recognizing one of his servants. “I should have guessed that you’d have been the one to make it through. My friends, this is one of my servants – Eck by name – a very sneaky fellow, I’ve found. He’s most useful when stealth is required.’
“I don’t think stealth had much to do with it this time, Your Grace,’ Eck admitted. He had a nasal sort of voice that seemed to go with his face. ‘As soon as we saw your signal, we all rode off to the west as fast as our horses could run. We started to run into ambushes before we even reached the Arcian border, though. That’s when we decided to split up. We thought that one of us at least might get through. Personally, I didn’t have much hope~ of that. There seemed to be a man with a longbow behind every tree. Anyway, I hid out in a ruined castle near Darra to think things over. I couldn’t see any way to get your message through at all. I didn’t know where King Wargun was, and I didn’t dare ask any travellers for fear that they were some of the men who’d been killing my friends.’
‘Perrelous situation,’ Darellon said.
“I thought so myself, My Lord,’ Eck agreed. “I hid in that ruin for two days, and then one morning, I heard the strangest sound. It seemed to be music of some kind. I thought it might be a shepherd, but it turned out to be a little girl with a few goats. She was making the music on those pipes that herders carry. The little girl seemed to be about six or so , and I knew as soon as I saw her that she was Styric. Everyone knows that it’s bad luck to have anything at all to do with Styrics, so I stayed hidden in the ruins.