Spirit of the Sword: Pride and Fury (The First Sword Chronicles Book 1) (21 page)

Gideon rolled his green eyes. “Michael, there are occasions when ‘Why not?’ even when asked in a surly tone, suffices as an answer; this is not one of them. I ask again: why? I have no wish to offer judgement. I simply wish to understand you a little better.”
              Michael shrugged again, and bit his lip, and thought for a while before he answered. “Miranda needed the money my lord."

"Surely there were other avenues available to you?"

"No, my lord. Or possibly there were but I did not wish to see them. I was tired."

"Tired of what?"

"Of everything," Michael said. "Besides, I had always loved the arena ever since I was a boy. It is the closest you will come, in this day and age, to seeing a hero such as there were in ancient times."

Gideon snorted. "You have a high opinion of your own virtue."

"It is not that, my lord, it is..." Michael struggled to find the right words to describe what he meant. "In elder days men were grand and glorious. A man like Prince Simon changed the world simply by the act of falling in love: can you imagine what Pelarius would look like if Turo's anger at mankind had not been assuaged, if the sea had remained closed to us?"

Gideon nodded. "No Tyronian colonies on the South Isles, no invasion from Danai-Shardaya, no tea or silk traded from Xiang-li, no Imperial provinces in Triazica or Lavissar for that matter, we would have been halted by the Lavisspont."

"Exactly, my lord; an act by a single man and yet it had repercussions that we yet feel to this day. In those days men were giants, they bestrode all Pelarius and made it shake with their tread. Then their descendants shrunk. No one man can make any great change in the world these days, everything is tax and censuses and layer on layer of organisation. To live in these days is to be a grain of sand in the desert: nothing you do will matter, no one would miss you if you were to disappear.

"But in the arena the world is so small the men that dwell in it seem once more giant by comparison. In the arena I might cross the earth in a few bounds, defeat every enemy who rose against me, even become the last man yet living. I know that I am not a great man my lord, no hero as in times gone by, yet in the arena I seemed to be so; because the world was small."

Gideon smiled. "I do not begrudge your dreams or your desires Michael. When I joined my legion in the Oretine War, I was certain that here was a stage where I might prove myself a hero of the Empire. I dared to hope I might shine brighter than any Commenae has since Aegea's day. I did not succeed. If only I'd know then that all I needed to do was sell myself and become a gladiator it would have saved so much time."

"You mock me, lord, yet I meant every word in perfect earnest," Michael said.

"Forgive me, for I meant not offence," Gideon said. "You spoke most eloquently, for a slave."

Michael's back straightened. "My mother believed that no man was ever so poor as he could not afford the manners a gentleman; and she taught me that when in the presence of gentlemen one should speak as they do."

"That is not actually how gentleman speak, it has more in common with an actor," Gideon said. "But please, don't let that stop you. I find I rather like it."

"As you wish, my lord," Michael said.

"One more question, if I may," Gideon said.

"I am your servant, lord, you may do as you please," Michael said.

Gideon said, "You use your mother's name and tribe: Callistus ban Ezekiel. Yet the censuses record that your mother married one Joshua Askallochus ban Levi in 863, and as she was not superior to him in social rank your name should in fact be his. Yet you go by your mother's name, as does your sister and as did your brother prior to his death. Why?"

"You have researched my family my lord?"

"I used the census records to trace the descent of Cynane's progeny," Gideon said. "It was the most convenient method. But you are avoiding my question again."

"I do not use my father's name, my lord, because I have no father. Only a dog who sired three children and then departed ere his youngest son was born. He did not deserve to have his name continue. A man takes care of his family, or he is no kind of man at all; so mother always said. But that creature cared not to care for his family, or anybody except himself. So we forsook his name."

"I see," Gideon said quietly, his face so unreadable as to make it impossible to say whether he approved of Michael's decision or not.

"My lord, may I ask
you
a question?"

"Of course."

"Why did you just ask me those questions?"

"As I said Michael, I wanted to understand you better," Gideon said.

"And do you, my lord?"

Gideon said, "Quite possibly I have."

VI

Our Girl

As rosy-fingered dawn lit up the morning Michael knelt beside the bank of the river Iskalon, holding a struggling ram tightly in his arms.

He had found the animal trapped in a thorn bush when he woke, and it had seemed to him that the beast could only have been sent by God. So he held the nervous creature close, soothed it with soft words and the hum of a lullaby, and ran the blade of his spatha across it's throat.

Blood stained his hands, but most of it dropped into the waters of the river below.

"Almighty God, Lord of the Seas and Oceans, receive now this offering from your faithful servant Michael Sebastian ban Ezekiel," Michael murmured. "I beg of thee, watch over my sister, Rebecca Miranda, and guard all honest and pious folk who dwell in this land. Stand with them in the bitter watches of the night, and with your strength drive from their homes the terror of the Crimson Rose.

"All praise to thee, O Turo, for you give life to the land, strength to the weak and honour to the downtrodden. Though in every generation they shall seek to destroy us, while you fight beside us we shall always prevail."

Michael let the dead ram drop to the ground, and dipped his hand into the water to wash away the blood. He stood up, and rejoined Gideon, who stood a little way apart from the rest of the crowd of refugees who had watched Michael slay the beast to Turo's glory. Most of them were on their knees now, praying their own prayers for the safety of their own loved ones. Gideon remained on his feet, watching with a detached air.

"Interesting, that you asked for nothing for yourself," Gideon murmured.

"The needs of others are greater than my own," Michael replied.

"Hmm," Gideon murmured. "Can you explain to me, as a Turonim, why you killed the ram, and not the priest?"

"Priests are forbidden to stain their hands with blood, my lord," Michael said softly. "That is why I could not become a priest."

"Did you wish to?"

"At one time, my lord, when I was young," Michael said. "I thought... I hoped that faith might soothe the fury in my soul."

"Duty will, in time," Gideon said. "And I think that you would have been a great loss to the Empire had you chosen to seclude yourself away in Turo's temple. Come," he declared, loud enough for all to hear him. "Come all. We have much ground to cover today."

He started to march down the riverbank, and the people of Lover's Rock followed in his train like tiny fish following a great whale through the vastness of the deep, clinging to the mightier and nobler beast for sustenance and safety. Wyrrin was back on his feet now, albeit he still needed two people to help support him, and he was not yet strong enough to wield his black blades in anger or defence. Still, his wounds were healing, and Michael was minded to take that for a good omen, a sign from God that one day Corona's wounds would also be healed and the damage done by the Crimson Rose would be undone.

The Iskalon flowed on in ignorance of their offering or their presence; the sapphire waters of Corona's crown glistened like jewels upon the neck of a fair lady, beautiful both in themselves and as an augment to the greater beauty upon which they hung. Standing upon the shore, looking out at Deucalia province beyond, one might almost forget that war and bloodshed was consuming the land of Turo's chosen.

Unfortunately, one had only to turn back to the Coronan side, to the fields barren of human presence, to be reminded.

"This is the ultimate gambit of the Crimson Rose, is it not my lord?" Michael asked. "They mean to drive out the Empire once and for all. The rebels have always contented themselves with murdering their opponents, ambushing isolated groups of soldiers, but to sack a whole town, drive every honest citizen in the province into exile; they mean to stand or fall upon a coin toss, it seems."

“It makes strategic sense,” Gideon said, leaning on one of the sentinels that lined the river bank. “They have killed the Proconsul and most of his senior staff and in doing so they have lit a fire that will burn throughout the province. And the military presence in the interior is never great. If ever there was a time for them to bet everything they have, that time is now.”

Gideon led the way down the riverside road that led to Davidheyr, and the crossing of the Iskalon. Michael touched the sentinel Gideon had been leaning on as he passed, and as his fingers brushed the black stone he prayed to the spirits of old to give him courage on the road ahead.

The river was lined with these stone guardians, carved out of black rock in the image of the Corona Firstborn in an age when Corona's chivalrous warriors had still been the pre-eminent in the field of arms. Every fifth of a mile there stood a Firstborn warrior afoot, standing at the water's edge looking out towards Deucalia, the old enemy, with shield held close and spear resting upon the ground. Every mile there stood a mounted soldier, his warhorse keeping watch as keenly as the man himself. It was said that in Corona's hour of greatest need these stone warriors would arise from their slumber to fight for country and for covenant. Many now mocked that old idea, but Michael believed the legend. Even if Corona the country was dead and gone Corona the place still lived, and the Coronim people too. When the straits were truly dire, he believed, these sentinels would rise. But things had not yet reached their bottom yet, and in its own way that was a comforting thought.

"What do you think of the Empire?" Gideon demanded.

Michael was thrown by the abruptness of the question as well as by the blunt manner in which it was put. "My lord?"

"It's a simple enough question. Personal enmity aside, forgetting that they have done you great personal wrong, are you at all sympathetic in principle to the cause of the Crimson Rose?"

"Never my lord," Michael replied.

"May I ask why?"

Michael frowned, looking out at the river, and taking in the heady scent that came from Turo's bride-gift. He said, "It is the difference between form and substance my lord. The Crimson Rose see one, I see the other. The rebels see only the outward forms that were Corona: independence, statehood, a prince upon a throne. But, though I dearly love the tales of old Corona: the pageantry and the glory, the heroes and the battles, chivalrous men and gentle ladies, that is not what makes Corona. The heart of Corona endures even to this day regardless of the fact that it is an Imperial flag which now flies over us."

Michael bent down, and scooped up some soil between his fingers. "I hold the true Corona in my hands my lord. I hold it in my heart, I and all my fellow Coronim who obediently serve the Empire, and that is something the Crimson Rose will never understand.

"This blessed land, beloved of God himself, would be so blessed and so beloved sat it under our own Prince, an Emperor in Eternal Pantheia, or a warlord sprung from the wilds of Mavenor. This sacred country, girded through and all about by Turo's gifts, is just as sacred as an imperial province as it was a nation all its own. For, though it were two princes of hallowed memory first won the Sea God's friendship and assuaged his anger, it is the people and the land that Turo loves, not the ruling house, and he loves this land still for all a wolf adorns its banner now.

"This pious breed of men, chosen by God, did in days of old fight for their faith with an undying fervour ne'er displayed in the wars that marked the twilight of our country. The banner of the wolf-and-unicorn never incited the anger of the Coronim, it took the toppling of Turo's temples and the erection of gentile idols to bring forth our fury. For those men of old they knew, as I know though the rebels have forgot, that it needs no nation called Corona for a man to act in a manner honourable and pleasing to the long line of his ancestors. A man may be honourable and serve the Empire still, a man may be possessed of a chivalrous spirit and pledge his loyalty to the Emperor unto death, a man may be Coronim in his heart yet fight for the legions with all the virtue and skill at arms that e'er the Firstborn of old did once display. For it is our honour, and our chivalry and our piety that makes us Coronim, not the bull-in-roses which once emblazoned our standard nor our old royal house, and a man may be Coronim in his heart, may call himself Coronim yet mean no slight on the Empire which rules him and which he serves.

"For the truth, my lord, the truth which even the Crimson Rose must know and fear, is that the Empire is not some foreign thing sending forth its soldiers and its governors to oppress us. Perhaps it was once, but no more. It was a Coronim, I have heard it said, who carried the standard of the Ninth Legion over the wall of Pyrig Ei; Coronim serve in the legions, they crew the Emperor's navy, even the proconsul lately slain was to Corona born.

"I am ready to serve the Empire, my lord, because it is my Empire too."

Gideon nodded, a smile playing across the edges of his lips. "You speak well once you get into your stride."

"I try my best, my lord."

"Tell me Michael," Gideon said. "Could you serve another god, besides Turo? I know a little of Turonim faith but not enough to know where it stands upon this matter."

Michael had never considered it before. "In ancient times Turo was not displeased to be worshipped as one god amongst the Eldar, but they were his brothers and sisters; on the other hand he never suffered for the Novar to be considered equals with their parents, to suggest it filled him with fury. And we have always been Turonim in Corona my lord, it is who we are."

"I do not ask you to abandon Turo, but to serve another also," Gideon said.

"Who, lord?"

"Aegea, the Divine Empress," Gideon said.

Michael felt relief it was not a Novar. He might speak fair to Lady Silwa as Gabriel and Simon had, but worship would be another matter. But he had never heard of a goddess Aegea. "I am sorry my lord, I do not know her."

"Few do, now," Gideon replied, his expression falling as he sighed deeply. "Aegea is the founder of the Empire, the Princess of Eternal Pantheia who proclaimed herself Empress of All Pelarius. A superb leader, she led her armies into battle through many victories splendid and desperate until she was mortally wounded in an ambush in the Argonian hills.

"That cold and stormy night, as she lay dying, her faithful soldiers prayed for the deliverance of their Empress. Their prayers, and Aegea's own tremendous spirit, lifted her up to the heavens where she became a god, the Divine Empress, our all-mother watching over us for all of time. And for the first four hundred years of the Empire's history she was the only god worshipped here, and all her successors acknowledged her sway and styled themselves not as Emperors but as Princes Imperial, temporal stewards under Her divine rule."

"What happened?"

"Venal ambition, Michael. After the death of the last First Sword of the Empire the then Princess Imperial, Princess Thetis, proclaimed herself Empress and outlawed the Aegean Faith. The proscription was eventually lifted, but the damage was done by then. Only a handful tend to the flame of the Empress now, myself included. I should like for you to tend it with me."

Michael's brow furrowed. "My lord, if the last First Sword perished so long ago, how did you come to hold the title. For have I not heard you proclaim yourself First Sword?"

"I am indeed, though the court never acknowledged my claim upon the rank. In the eyes of history, my ancestor Isaiah remains the last First Sword. As to how I attained the title, I received it from the hands of the Empress, how else?" Gideon said with a slight smile. "Think on what I've said Michael. Please, think upon it. You may be..." he hesitated.

"My lord?"

Gideon shook his head. "Think on it, Michael. Promise to think upon it."

Two days after their conversation Michael and Gideon led the folk of Lover's Rock to within sight of Davidheyr.

In actual fact they had caught the glimpses of the lights of the town as they made camp the night before, but only in the light of rosy-fingered dawn could they behold the capital and have the expectation of reaching it well before night fell again.

Michael did not admit it to Gideon, tried not to show it by word or deed, but he was quite looking forward to this. The ancient capital of Corona had been built by David, the very first prince of Corona who had risen up against the elves and led his people to freedom. It was where Gabriel and Simon had been born and where Gabriel had championed the infant Ameliora against Sebastian. It was where Ameliora and Jonathon had contested for leadership of the Firstborn, and where Ameliora had fallen in battle, for Davidheyr bore witness to tragedy as well as triumph.

"You realise, I hope, that this is a serious expedition and not a sight seeing jaunt?" Gideon pronounced those last words as though they made him ill.

Michael looked at Gideon askance. "I said not a word, my lord."

"You didn't have to," Gideon said.

"There is little enough to see, my lord," Michael said. "The city has been sacked twice: once by Deucalia and once by the Empire, and little remains of its ancient glories. Indeed I have been told there is little here that predates the Empire at all. But still, it is the heart of Corona, and every time I come here I feel renewed in spirit by the act."

"You have come here often?"

"Three times, my lord, to contest the Provincial Games," Michael explained. In the heart of Corona, the Last Firstborn had emerged victorious every time. "Though I saw very little beyond the arena, as I said there is little enough to see."