The Emperor and the Temple

Chapter 28

Prince Taneric was dismayed when Ashala told him of Hanja's departure from the City but there was little time to dwell on the matter, preparations for the army's departure requiring all his attention. Besides, he knew that in Samon she would have an excellent guardian.

"I will be on the Road of Lakes myself soon enough, Ashala," he said. "And I will seek them there, and Nikah too. I will be needing City Guardsmen. Five cohorts. Have them made ready!"

"Tak!" shouted Ashala. "Do not command me as though I were one of your men!"

He turned to her, reaching for her hand and kissing it.

"I am sorry, High Priestess. Forgive me for my impertinence, but I need your men. The task I have before me is but half done."

Ashala sighed, "Tak, the Treaty of Tajorg states that the City and the North will defend one another. It says nothing of Casbur, or of the South."

Shocked, Taneric said, "I have not thought of the treaty for many moons. I believed we were beyond it, Ashala; that now we act with common purpose, from trust and love. I brought you men from the north to defend this city; four times the number you could muster. And Fris____"

"Fris is a boy of the City Tak. Do not forget it! He belongs to Priestess Shallie and she has not relinquished him, nor will she. He will remain here in the Temple. And do not forget that his devices were made in the foundries and workshops of the City!"

"You are afraid of something, Ashala. What is it? Fris? Zantina? Surely not me, your devoted boy Tak?"

He reached for her as he spoke, pulling her close, and she nestled her head against his chest, avoiding his gaze. A single tear ran from her eye but she wiped it away.

"Of course I will give you the cohorts, Tak. Although the Temple has freed you, I know that you still belong to the Goddess. You are as much Her slave as you were Ruta's when you were kept within the Temple as her boy."

****

The next day reinforcements arrived from the north. Four thousand warriors led by Peto and Ostin. And with them they brought scores of wagons full of fresh supplies, and thousands of horses to supplement those that had been kept within the City walls.

Peto expressed disappointment at missing the Emperor's army, but was excited by the prospect of a campaign to the east.

"I can give you just one day's rest," Taneric told him. "Tomorrow we ride."

It was decided that three thousand warriors would follow the Emperor's main army south, to ensure it stayed to the route and departed promptly from the southern ports. The bulk of Taneric's men, including the cohorts provided by Ashala, would ride to Casbur.

That night, the eve of their departure, Peto and Taneric stood on the City's still intact north wall. They spoke of things that had come to pass in the days since they had last been together, in the little village near Tajorg where a woman of the Goddess was saved from burning.

"What did you do with the High Priest of Wodh?" asked Peto.

"I gave him a child's wooden sword and shield and was about to send him out alone to face the Emperor's first attack. But the High Priestess stopped me."

"You do as Ashala commands, Tak?"

"Well, she was right, was she not?"

Peto considered this for a while and then nodded.

"Yes, Tak, I think she was."

Below them, some men of the Emperor's army were still working by lantern light, digging graves for their fallen comrades. They could barely lift the shovels, such was their fatigue. Tak and Peto, watching from the walls, saw two priestesses in white robes approach the men, bearing large baskets of food which they distributed generously.

"Look how the strangers appreciate the love shown to them, Tak," said Peto. "How they kneel and kiss the sleeves of the women's robes. It is a powerful thing, is it not? Yes, I think Ashala was right."

"How is my father?" asked Tak, changing the subject.

"He weakens, but he knows you cannot go to him now. Finish what needs to be done here, and at Casbur! But Tak, there is something he asked Ostin and I to make clear to you. Whatever you take now, take it in your own name, not his! Do you understand, Tak?"

"I am not sure, Peto."

"I think he means you to go south. To Osta's realm."

"I will, Peto. We will. But before the end of winter I shall be with my father in Vosgir. I shall send messengers to tell him so."

"Take the High Priestess with you when you go! Alfard wants to see her also."

"I have long known of his love for Ashala, and of hers for him," said Taneric. "There is more to this story than is commonly told. Ashala says nothing and, while I believe Ostin knows much, I shall not press him on it. Tell me, Peto, what of the Emperor's lost legion?"

"Ah, the Falcons," sighed Peto. "Leaving Casbur they marched north, from hunger I believe. And indeed in our forests they at last found sustenance, but with it conflict. Their path took them through the Carfah hills where many perished in skirmishes with the tribes of those parts. But still they advanced, passing through many of our villages but treating all that they came across with respect and stealing nothing. Eventually, it became clear that they might reach Vosgir. So, having raised the forces that I bring to you here, I rode out to meet them and sat with their leader, a lord by the name of Nadam. I must say, Tak, I found him to be an honourable man. He put me in mind of Kamhet, such was his intelligence and demeanour. We agreed that his legion, what remains of it, will winter in the lowlands and that in the spring we will decide if we are to fight each other."

Taneric considered this for a few moments.

"You have taken a risk, Peto, but I trust your judgement," he said, slapping his friend's back. "Come, let us find a tavern! If you are respectful, perhaps a lady of the City will invite you to share her bed."

****

At sunrise an army the like of which had never been seen in the City of The Goddess rode out onto the trail heading east. Some warriors came from within the City; some from encampments on the plain around its walls, and it took nearly an hour for all men to join the column as it snaked into the forest. Taneric pushed hard towards distant Casbur, the days in the saddle long, the distance to his goal becoming ever shorter. But then, when the capital of Zantina's eastern realm was but a day or two away, they met a traveller who told them that the enemy had abandoned the city and was marching south along the Road of Lakes.

"By Wodh, Tak! I think it is truly over!" exclaimed Peto at the news. "They know of the Emperor's retreat and have realised they cannot remain in Casbur and expect to hold it."

"Indeed," replied Taneric. "But let us divert our journey and find them on the road. We must make sure that you are right, Peto."

And so it was that two days later the army of Vosgir rode down the side of a valley near Vilgen, observed from afar by Hanja and Samon, although Tak and Peto could not have known it.

****

Many a warrior, cresting the edge of the valley that day, believed Prince Taneric intended an immediate attack on the foot legion below them. Lancers came instinctively to the fore as they bore down the side of the valley, mounted swordsmen holding back to form a second wave. But then Ostin cried out, "Taneric! It will be a slaughter! Allow them to cede the field, as they surely must!"

And indeed Tak had his trumpeters sound the halt and the lines of horses came to a stop, so close to the Foreign Legion that its men could almost feel the hot breath of the horses on their cheeks as they stared out from behind the wall of shields that they had hastily formed.

"Who leads this Legion!?" shouted Tak. "Come forth!"

The line of shields parted briefly and two men pushed through.

"I am Artur, leader of the Emperor's Foreign Legion. This is Centurian Marwen."

Tak dismounted, gesturing to Peto and Ostin that they should follow him, and together they strode out to face Artur. Never, with thirteen thousand men at arms facing each other, had there been such a silence as fell across the field in those moments, every warrior holding his breath to see what would occur.

"I am Prince Taneric of the North. These are my generals Lord Peto and Lord Ostin. So, you are Artur. They told me a man of the south leads a legion of the Emperor, but I could scarcely believe it. Now I see it is true. But no matter, you will relinquish your weapons and continue your march south to the ports and from there back to whence you came. While you do so, you will not be harmed; you have my word."

Artur did not answer immediately, instead staring south down the valley towards the distant town - Vilgen by his reckoning - where tiny figures had gathered on the road to stare at the armies above. The thought came to him - seeming strange under the circumstances - that this was a beautiful place; a green valley, lined with fir trees to the east, its clear river meandering down to the towers below.

"Perhaps," was all Artur said.

"I have been generous with you, Artur," said Taneric impatiently. "But if your legion would rather fight, so be it."

Tak half turned, as if to go back to his lines.

"No need for so much death, Prince Taneric," said Artur quickly. "Let you and I settle it alone, here where we stand. Should you defeat me, my legion will depart as you describe."

Peto snorted in derision and spoke out, "And should you prevail?"

"Then my legion will depart as you describe."

Peto laughed, "Lord Artur, I think you are confused. You offer the same terms whether you die or are victorious."

"There is no mistake," replied Artur calmly.

Peto shook his head, "I do not understand this nonsense! What is the point? Take your legion south and let nobody die here today!"

"If Prince Taneric will not accept the challenge then my men will not yield," said Artur. "We are the Foreign Legion, the greatest of the Emperor's armies. Our lives will not be taken cheaply."

Peto began once more to reason with Artur, but Taneric put his hand out to silence him.

"I shall fight you," he said to Artur.

"Very good," replied Artur, drawing his sword. "Please make space!"

Reluctantly, Ostin and Peto took some steps back while Marwen did the same, appearing just as horrified and bewildered by the events before him. A low rumble of surprise and concern passed across both armies as Tak now unsheathed his sword and the two great warriors stood facing each other, just an arms length apart.

"One other thing, Prince Taneric," whispered Artur, soft enough to be sure no other would hear it.

"No, Artur! Our deal is made and must not be altered," replied Tak.

"It is a request; a kindness that I ask of you. Should I fall, bury me here in this valley and give me a stone. I have a dear sister and, though I have given her little enough reason to love me, I would like her to find me here, should she choose to."

Tak gave the faintest of nods.

"Thank you. A prayer, Prince Taneric?"

"I have no need to, Artur, but if you wish."

Tak watched as his adversary knelt. There was something about this man that troubled him deeply; some nagging discomfort that he could not name. Was it the man's countenance? The great sorrow now drawn across his features as he whispered to his deity, eyes closed? Or the fact that he prayed facing south, as a follower of the Goddess would? But that must surely be coincidence. Or was it the odd familiarity that Tak felt when he looked into the man's blue eyes? For sure he had never encountered Artur before - he was convinced of that - but there was something in the line of the man's cheekbones, in the shape of his jaw. Perhaps if Artur had spent but a few moments longer in prayer then a great truth would have prevailed itself upon Taneric and all history may have been changed. But, as it was, Artur rose to his feet saying, "Let us get this thing done!" and the two men were suddenly at each other with a great clash of steel.

Taneric was the bigger man and at first he forced Artur back with heavy blows of his sword that were barely parried. To the thousands watching, it seemed that Artur would soon be overcome by his stronger opponent and that the clash would not be a long one. Indeed it was likely that the Emperor's man, like the rest of his army, had been made weak by the hardships of the long campaign and especially the lack of food. But somehow Artur managed to fend off the swings and thrusts, until both men grew tired and circled each other for some moments before, at exactly the same time, each made a play for the other's chest and missed. They clutched together, unable to use their weapons at such proximity, Taneric ramming his helmet into Artur's face, drawing blood.

Marwen and Peto stepped forward and pulled their men apart, resetting them some paces back and begging them to stop. But neither Artur nor Taneric paid any heed.

Once again the two went at each other and Peto, watching with horror, began to see a difference in them. Taneric, though big and strong and brave, was not yet experienced in the subtleties of sword play. After all, he had been a slave little more than a summer ago, and though Peto had tried to teach him the art of combat as best he could, the opportunities had not been plentiful. Artur, though smaller and more weary, had benefited from an aristocratic upbringing in which swordsmanship was fundamental in a boy's education, even from a young age. Peto knew little of Osta's court, or the Admiral of the fleet, or of that Admiral's beloved sons and daughter, but he could clearly see that Artur had a depth of skill and training unmatched by Taneric.

Peto placed his hand on the grip of his sword, and withdrew it a few inches from the scabbard. To intervene would be unthinkable....and yet!

Artur was forcing Taneric backwards now, with deft movements of his blade that were not intended to kill but must still be parried. And now it was Tak that grew fatigued as Artur forced him to work harder, while expending as little effort as possible himself. Finally, seeing a gap, he slashed with all his might at Taneric and, though the Prince half blocked the blade with his own, it caught him on the helmet with a glancing blow. Tak went to the ground, momentarily stunned, dropping his sword beside him.

Artur stepped forward and raised his weapon to strike the killing blow but then, before he brought it harshly down onto Taneric's defenceless body, he paused, and for a few moments he knew not why. And then he became aware of the cool breeze in the valley and of something carried on that breeze; something familiar...something feminine....something urgent. 'Is it the Goddess calling me?' Artur wondered. 'Have I somehow been defeated here on this green slope, and must I now go to Her?'

But now the sound grew clearer in his mind; 'Tak!....Tak!....TAK!'

It was a familiar voice, a voice of delight, a loved voice; one that he had thought he would never hear again, and he half lowered his sword, no longer thinking of the young Prince at his feet.

"Hanja?" he said softly.

Now she broke through the lines of horsemen in front of him, crying out, "Tak!....Tak!..."

And then, seeing for the first time the scene before her, she stopped in shock and cried out, "What?...But...How?...Artur?....ARTUR!"

He stared at Hanja, a mask of sadness across his face, and he whispered to her, "Oh Hanja! My sister! I am so sorry....so sorr____"

And as he spoke, he made the sign of the Goddess, or at least began to. For Taneric, half recovering his wits about him, had grasped his sword and risen to one knee from where, with all his might, he thrust at Artur, running him through with such force that the tip of the blade passed through his body. And Artur, still staring at Hanja, sank to his knees as the blood came to his mouth. She rushed to him, screaming his name in anguish, and knelt with him, holding his body as the life left it. And from the ranks of the Foreign Legion another man came running and joined them in their embrace; three siblings pressed tightly together, two living, one now dead.