Hush, Sparhawk muttered over his shoulder. Say on, My Lord, he said to the Lamork.
Misfortunately, civil turmoil mars western Lamorkand presently, the Lamork continued.
I like misfortunately, Tynian murmured to Kalten. Its got a nice ring to it.
Will you two be quiet? Sparhawk snapped. Then he looked back at the man in the chain-coat. Rumour has advised us of this discord, My Lord, he replied. But surely this is a local matter, and does not involve the Church.
I will speak to the point, Sir Knight. The Patriarch Ortzel of Kadach has been forced by the turmoil I but recently mentioned to seek shelter in the stronghold of his brother, the Baron Alstrom, whom I have the honour to serve. Rude civil discord rears its head here in Lamorkand, and we anticipate with some certainty that the foes of My Lord Alstrom will shortly besiege his fortress.
We are but five, My Lord, Sparhawk pointed out. Surely our aid would be of little use in a protracted siege.
Ah, no, Sir Knight, the Lamork said with a disdainful smile. We can sustain ourselves and my Lord Alstroms castle without the aid of the invincible Knights of the Church. My Lord Alstroms castle is impregnable, and his foes may freely dash themselves to pieces against its walls for a generation or more without causing us alarm. As I have said, however, the Patriarch Ortzel is the paramount choice for the Archprelacy in the event of the demise of the revered Cluvonus, which, please God, may be delayed for a time. Thus I charge you and your noble companions, Sir Knight, to convey his Grace safe and whole to the sacred city of Chyrellos so that he may stand for election, should that mournful necessity come to pass. With that end in view, I will forthwith convey you and your knightly companions to the stronghold of My Lord of Alstrom so that you may undertake this noble task. Let us then proceed.
Chapter 4
The castle of Baron Alstrom was situated on a rocky promontory on the east bank of the river. The promontory jutted out into the main channel a few leagues above the town of Kadach. It was a bleak, ugly fortress, squatting toad-like under a cheerless sky. Its walls were thick and high, seeming to reflect the stiff, unyielding arrogance of its owner.
Impregnable? Bevier murmured derisively to Sparhawk as the knight in the chain-coat led them along the short causeway that led out to the castle gate. I could reduce these walls within the space of two years. No Arcian noble would feel secure within such flimsy fortifications.
Arcians have more time to build their castles, Sparhawk pointed out to the white-caped knight. It takes longer to start a war in Arcium than it does here in Lamorkand. You can start a war here in about five minutes, and its likely to go on for generations.
Truly, Bevier agreed. He smiled faintly. In my youth I gave some time to the study of military history. When I turned to the volumes dealing with Lamorkand, I threw up my hands in despair. No rational man could sort out all the alliances, betrayals and blood feuds that seethe just below the surface of this unhappy kingdom.
The drawbridge boomed down, and they clattered on across it into the castles main court. And it please you, Sir Knights, the Lamork knight said, dismounting, I will convey you directly into the presence of the Baron Alstrom and His Grace, the Patriarch Ortzel. Time is pressing, and we must see His Grace safely out of the castle ere the forces of Count Gerrich mount their siege.
Lead on, Sir Knight, Sparhawk said, clanking down from Farans back. He leaned his lance against the wall of the stable, hung his silver-embossed black shield on his saddle and handed his reins to a waiting groom.
They went up a broad stone staircase and through the pair of massive doors at its top. The hallway beyond was torchlit, and the stones of its walls were massive. Did you warn that groom? Kalten asked, falling in beside Sparhawk, his long black cape swirling about his ankles.
About what?
Your horses disposition.
I forgot, Sparhawk confessed. Hell find out on his own, I imagine.
He probably already has.
The room to which the Lamork knight led them was bleak. In many respects it was more like an armoury than living quarters. Swords and axes hung on the walls, and pikes in clusters of a dozen or so leaned in the corners. A fire burned in a huge, vaulted fireplace, and the few chairs were heavy and unpadded. There was no carpeting on the floor, and a number of huge wolf-hounds dozed here and there.
Baron Alstrom was a grim-faced, melancholy-looking man. His black hair and beard were shot with grey. He wore a mail-coat and had a broadsword at his waist. His surcoat was black and elaborately embroidered in red, and like the knight in the pig-faced helmet, he wore boots.
Their escort bowed stiffly. By good fortune, My Lord, I encountered these Knights of the Church no more than a league from your walls. They were gracious enough to accompany me here.
Did we have any choice? Kalten muttered.
The Baron rose from his chair with a movement made clumsy by the encumbrance of armour and sword. Greetings, Sir Knights, he said, in a voice without much warmth. It was indeed fortuitous that Sir Enmann encountered you so near this stronghold. The forces of mine enemy will presently besiege me here, and my brother must be safely away before they come.
Yes, My Lord, Sparhawk replied, removing his black helmet and looking after the departing Lamork in the chain-coat. Sir Enmann advised us of the circumstances. Might it not have been more prudent, however, to have sent your brother on his way with an escort of your own troops? It was only a chance meeting that brought us to your gate ahead of your enemies.
Alstrom shook his head. The warriors of Count Gerrich would certainly attack my men on sight. Only under escort of the Knights of the Church will my brother be safe, Sir ?
Sparhawk.
Alstrom looked briefly surprised. The name is not unknown to us, he said. He looked inquiringly at the others, and Sparhawk made the introductions.
An oddly assorted party, Sir Sparhawk, Alstrom observed after he had bowed perfunctorily to Sephrenia. But is it wise to take the lady and the two children on a journey that might involve danger?
The lady is essential to our purpose, Sparhawk replied. The little girl is under her care, and the boy is her page. She would not leave them behind.
Page? he heard Talen whisper to Berit. Ive been called a lot of things, but thats a new one.
Hush, Berit whispered back.
What astonishes me even more, however, Alstrom continued, is the fact that all four of the militant orders are represented here. Relations between the orders have not been cordial of late, Ive been told.
We are embarked upon a quest which directly involves the Church, Sparhawk explained, taking off his gauntlets. It is of such pressing urgency that our Preceptors brought us together that we might by our unity prevail.
The unity of the Church Knights, like that of the Church herself, is long overdue, a harsh voice said from the far side of the room. A Churchman stepped out of the shadows. His black cassock was plain, even severe, and his hollow-cheeked face was bleakly ascetic. His hair was pale blond, streaked with grey, and it fell straight to his shoulders, appearing to have been hacked off at that point with the blade of a knife.