The Ruby Knight (19 page)

‘You wouldn't!' Jaken was very nearly in a state of collapse now.

Kurik moved his horse forward, his sword glinting ominously in the sunlight. ‘Try me,' he said in a tone dreadful enough to make the very rocks shrink.

The young man's eyes bulged in horror, and he scrambled back into his saddle with his satin-dressed sycophants rushing along behind him.

‘Was that more or less what you had in mind, My Lord?' Kurik asked the noble.

‘It was perfect, Sir Knight. I've wanted to do that myself for years.' Then he sighed. ‘Mine was an arranged marriage, Sir Knight,' he said by way of explanation. ‘My wife's family had a noble title, but they were deeply in debt. My family had money and land, but our title was not impressive. Our parents felt that the arrangement was sound, but she and I scarcely speak to each other. I've avoided her whenever possible. I've solaced myself with other women, I'm ashamed to admit. There are many accommodating young ladies – if one has the price. My wife's solaced herself with that abomination you just saw. She has few other enthusiasms – aside from making my life as miserable as she possibly can. I've neglected my duties, I'm afraid.'

‘I have sons myself, My Lord,' Kurik told him as they all rode on. ‘Most of them are good boys, but one has been a great disappointment to me.'

Talen rolled his eyes heavenward, but didn't say anything.

‘Do you travel far, Sir Knight?' the noble asked, obviously wanting to change the subject.

‘We go towards Venne,' Kurik replied.

‘A journey of some distance. I have a summer house near the west end of my estate. Might I offer you its comfort? We should reach it by evening, and the servants there can see to your needs.' He made a wry face. ‘I'd offer you the hospitality of the manor, but I'm afraid tonight may be a bit noisy there. My wife has a penetrating voice, and she's not going to take kindly to certain decisions I've made this afternoon.'

‘You're most kind, My Lord. We'll be happy to accept your hospitality.'

‘It's the least I can do in recompense for my son's behaviour. I wish I could think of some appropriate form of discipline to salvage him.'

‘I've always got good results with a leather belt, My Lord,' Kurik suggested.

The nobleman laughed wryly. ‘That might not be a bad idea, Sir Knight,' he agreed.

They rode on through a lovely afternoon, and as the sun was just going down, they reached the ‘summer house' which appeared to be only slightly less opulent than a mansion. The nobleman gave instructions to the household servants and then remounted his horse. ‘I'd gladly stay, Sir Knight,' he said to Kurik, ‘but I think I'd better get back home before my wife breaks every dish in the house. I'll find a comfortable cloister for her, and live out my life in peace.'

‘I quite understand, My Lord,' Kurik replied. ‘Good luck.'

‘Godspeed, Sir Knight.' And the noble turned and rode back the way they had come.

‘Kurik,' Bevier said gravely as they entered the marble-floored foyer of the house, ‘you did honour to my armour back there. I'd have had my sword through that young fellow after his second remark.'

Kurik grinned at him. ‘It was much more fun this way, Sir Bevier.'

The Pelosian noble's summer house was even more splendid on the inside than it had appeared from the exterior. Rare woods, exquisitely carved, panelled the walls. The floors and fireplaces were all of marble, and the furnishings were covered with the finest brocade. The serving staff was efficient and unobtrusive, and they saw to every need.

Sparhawk and his friends dined splendidly in a dining room only slightly smaller than a grand ballroom. ‘Now
this
is what I call living,' Kalten sighed contentedly. ‘Sparhawk, why is it that
we
can't have a bit more luxury in our lives?'

‘We're Knights of the Church,' Sparhawk reminded him. ‘Poverty toughens us up.'

‘But do we have to have so much of it?'

‘How are you feeling?' Sephrenia asked Bevier.

‘Much better, thanks,' the Arcian replied. ‘I haven't coughed up any blood since this morning. I think I'll be up to a canter tomorrow, Sparhawk. This leisurely stroll is costing us time.'

‘Let's go easy for one more day,' Sparhawk said. ‘According to my map, the country beyond the city of Venne is a little rugged and very underpopulated. It's ideal for ambushes, and we're being followed. I want you and Kalten and Tynian fit to defend yourselves.'

‘Berit,' Kurik said.

‘Yes?'

‘Would you do me a favour before we leave here?'

‘Of course.'

‘First thing in the morning, take Talen out into the courtyard and search him – thoroughly. The noble who owns this place was very hospitable, and I don't want to offend him.'

‘What makes you think I'd steal anything?' Talen objected.

‘What makes you think I wouldn't? It's just a precaution. There are a great number of small, valuable things in this house. Some of them might just accidentally find their way into your pockets.'

The beds in the house were down-filled, and they were deep and comfortable. They rose at dawn and ate a splendid breakfast. Then they thanked the servants, mounted their waiting horses and rode on out. The new-risen sun was golden, and larks whirled and sang overhead. Flute, sitting in the wagon, accompanied them on her pipes. Sephrenia seemed stronger, but at Sparhawk's insistence, she still rode in the wagon.

It was shortly before noon when a group of perhaps fifty fierce-looking men came galloping over a nearby hill. They were booted and dressed in leather, and their heads were all shaved.

‘Tribesmen from the eastern marches,' warned Tynian, who had been in Pelosia before. ‘Be very careful, Sparhawk. These are reckless men.'

The tribesmen swooped down the hill with superb horsemanship. They had savage-looking sabres at their belts, carried short lances and wore round shields on their left arms. At a curt signal from their leader, most of them reined in so sharply that their horses' rumps skidded on the grass. With five cohorts, the leader, a lean man with narrow eyes and a scarred scalp, came forward. With ostentatious display, the advancing tribesmen moved their horses sideways, the proud stallions prancing in perfect unison. Then, plunging their lances into the earth, the warriors drew their flashing sabres with a grand flourish.

‘No!' Tynian said sharply as Sparhawk and the others instinctively went for their swords. ‘This is a ceremony. Stand fast.'

The shaven-headed men came forward at a stately walk, and then at some hidden signal their horses all went down on their front knees in a kind of genuflection as the riders raised their sabres to their faces in salute.

‘Lord!' Kalten breathed. ‘I've never seen a horse do that before!'

Faran's ears flicked, and Sparhawk could feel him twitching irritably.

‘Hail, Knights of the Church,' the leather-garbed leader intoned formally. ‘We salute you, and stand at your service.'

‘Can I handle this?' Tynian suggested to Sparhawk. ‘I've had some experience.'

‘Feel free, Tynian,' Sparhawk agreed, eyeing the pack of savage men on the hill.

Tynian moved forward, holding his black horse in tightly so that its pace was measured and slow. ‘Gladly we greet the Peloi,' the Deiran declaimed formally. ‘Glad also are we of this meeting, for brothers should always greet each other with respect.'

‘You know our ways, Sir Knight,' the scar-headed man approved.

‘I have been in times past on the eastern marches, Domi,' Tynian acknowledged.

‘What's “Domi” mean?' Kalten whispered.

‘An ancient Pelosian word,' Ulath supplied. ‘It means “chief” – sort of.'

‘Sort of?'

‘It takes a long time to translate.'

‘Will you take salt with me, Sir Knight?' the warrior asked.

‘Gladly, Domi,' Tynian replied, stepping slowly down from his saddle. ‘And might we season it with well-roasted mutton?' he suggested.

‘An excellent suggestion, Sir Knight.'

‘Get it,' Sparhawk said to Talen. ‘It's in that green pack. And don't argue.'

‘I'd sooner bite out my tongue,' Talen agreed nervously, digging into the pack.

‘Warm day, isn't it?' the Domi said conversationally, sitting cross-legged on the lush turf.

‘We were saying the same thing just a few minutes ago,' Tynian agreed, also sitting.

‘I am Kring,' the scarred man introduced himself, ‘Domi of this band.'

‘I am Tynian,' the Deiran replied, ‘an Alcione Knight.'

‘I surmised as much.'

Talen went a bit hesitantly to where the two men sat, carrying a roast leg of lamb.

‘Well-prepared meat,' Kring proclaimed, unhooking a leather bag of salt from his belt. ‘The Knights of the Church eat well.' He ripped the lamb-roast in two with teeth and fingernails and handed half to Tynian. Then he held out his leather bag. ‘Salt, brother?' he offered.

Tynian dipped his fingers into the bag, took out a generous pinch and sifted it over his lamb. Then he shook his fingers in the direction of the four winds.

‘You are well-versed in our ways, friend Tynian,' the Domi approved, imitating the gesture. ‘And is this excellent young fellow perhaps your son?'

‘Ah, no, Domi,' Tynian sighed. ‘He's a good lad, but he's addicted to thievery.'

‘Ho-ho!' Kring laughed, fetching Talen a clap on the shoulder that sent the boy rolling. ‘Thievery is the second most honourable profession in the world – next to fighting. Are you any good, boy?'

Talen smiled thinly, and his eyes went narrow. ‘Would you care to try me, Domi?' he challenged, coming to his feet. ‘Protect what you can, and I'll steal the rest.'

The warrior rolled back his head, roaring with
laughter. Talen, Sparhawk noticed, was already close to him, his hands moving fast.

‘All right, my young thief,' the Domi chortled, holding his wide-spread hands out in front of him, ‘steal what you can.'

‘Thank you all the same, Domi,' Talen said with a polite bow, ‘but I already have. I believe I've got just about everything of value you own.'

Kring blinked and began to pat himself here and there, his eyes filled with consternation.

Kurik groaned.

‘It may turn out all right after all,' Sparhawk muttered to him.

‘Two brooches,' Talen catalogued, handing them over, ‘seven rings – the one on your left thumb is really tight, you know. A gold bracelet – have that checked. I think there's brass mixed with it. A ruby pendant – I hope you didn't pay too much for it. It's really an inferior stone, you know. Then there's this jewelled dagger, and the pommel-stone off your sword.' Talen brushed his hands together professionally.

The Domi roared with laughter. ‘I'll buy this boy, friend Tynian,' he declared. ‘I'll give you a herd of the finest horses for him and raise him as my own son. Such a thief I've never seen before.'

‘Ah – sorry, friend Kring,' Tynian apologized, ‘but he's not mine to sell.'

Kring sighed. ‘Could you even steal horses, boy?' he asked wistfully.

‘A horse is a little hard to fit in your pocket, Domi,' Talen replied. ‘I could probably work it out, though.'

‘A lad of genius,' the warrior said reverently. ‘His father is a man of great fortune.'

‘I hadn't noticed that very much,' Kurik muttered.

‘Ah, young thief,' Kring said almost regretfully, ‘I seem to be also missing a purse – a fairly heavy one.'

‘Oh, did I forget that?' Talen said, slapping his forehead. ‘It must have completely slipped my mind.' He fished a bulging leather bag out from under his tunic and handed it over.

‘Count it, friend Kring,' Tynian warned.

‘Since the boy and I are now friends, I will trust his integrity.'

Talen sighed and fished a large number of silver coins out of various hiding places. ‘I wish people wouldn't do that,' he said, handing the coins over. ‘It takes all the fun out of it.'

‘
Two
herds of horses?' the Domi offered.

‘Sorry, my friend,' Tynian said regretfully. ‘Let us take salt and talk of affairs.'

The two sat eating their salted lamb as Talen wandered back to the wagon. ‘He should have taken the horses,' he muttered to Sparhawk. ‘I could have slipped away just after dark.'

‘He'd have chained you to a tree,' Sparhawk told him.

‘I can wriggle my way out of any chain in less than a minute. Do you have any idea of how much horses like he's got are worth, Sparhawk?'

‘Training this boy may take longer than we'd expected,' Kalten noted.

‘Will you require an escort, friend Tynian?' Kring was asking. ‘We are engaged in no more than a slight diversion, and we will gladly put it aside to assist our holy mother Church and her revered Knights.'

‘Thank you, friend Kring,' Tynian declined, ‘but our mission involves nothing we can't deal with.'

‘Truly. The prowess of the Knights of the Church is legendary.'

‘What is this diversion you mentioned, Domi?' Tynian asked curiously. ‘Seldom have I seen the Peloi this far west.'

‘We normally haunt the eastern marches,' Kring admitted, ripping a large chunk of lamb off the bone with his teeth, ‘but from time to time over the past few generations, Zemochs have been trying to slip across the border into Pelosia. The king pays a gold half-crown for their ears. It's an easy way to make money.'

‘Does the king demand both ears?'

‘No, just the right ones. We still have to be careful with our sabres, though. You can lose the whole bounty with a mis-aimed stroke. Anyway, my friends and I flushed a fair-sized group of Zemochs near the border. We took a number of them, but the rest fled. They were coming this way last we saw them, and some were wounded. Blood leaves a good trail. We'll run them down and collect their ears – and the gold. It's just a question of time.'