Elphin and his father followed and watched them ride away. When they had gone Gwyddno turned to his son. "You never told me anything about raising a warband."
"There was no time. But if you are worried about—"
"No. It is a good plan. I will stand for the supply." He smiled suddenly. "But you will be king, lad, and battlechief. Just like the lords of old." Gwyddno's eyes glittered with the glory of it. "Come Samhain there will be none to challenge your right to the kingship."
FOURTEEN
CHARIS ROSE EARLY AND DRESSED QUICKLY. SHE CHOSE A ripe pear from a bowl on the table and sauntered outside onto the balcony to enjoy the garden, chewing the soft, sweet pulp. She saw someone walking along one of the vine-trimmed pathways below. It was Annubi, head down, legs stumping, arms jerking oddly.
Balancing the half eaten pear on the railing, she slipped lightly down the steps and hastened after him, following for a while. But the seer was so completely absorbed in his thoughts, he took no notice of her, and Charis soon grew tired of being ignored and drew even with him. "Where have you been, Annubi? I have not seen you since we arrived."
He turned his head and said tartly, "So you are awake. Is it midday already?"
"Who can sleep? Today is the Festival of Kings. I do not want to miss a thing."
"Not that you could." He turned his attention back to the path before him.
"You should stop drinking that vile wine of yours," she told him. "You are becoming quite as sour as it is."
If he heard her he gave no indication. "I have been talking to the Magi…Ha! Bickering with small-minded, venomous lizards."
Charis laughed. "Is that where you have been all this time? With the Magi? What did they say to upset you?"
"They jabber and drool and sniff one another's armpits, and they all pretend they know what they are doing. They pick the boils on their worthless hides and grin their insufferable, know-nothing grins…And the lies, Charis, the lies! Lies ooze from their mouths like pus from a running wound."
"They refuse to say what you want to hear, in other words—"
"They disgrace their holy office with their very presence. They pule and moan and roll their eyes at the slightest hint of a genuine thought. Bah! I am done with them."
"If they are the lizards you profess them to be, why do you care what they think or do? Why bother with them at all?"
Annubi's mouth made a straight line. He started to speak but bit back the words.
"There, you see? You are just tired and angry. Come back to the palace and have something to eat. You will feel better."
Annubi looked at her—hair shimmering like white gold in the early morning light, bright eyes full of life, finely-shaped limbs tan from her hours in the sun—and nodded his head. "May you never lack for light, bright one," he told her.
They walked for a few minutes more in silence and then returned to the royal apartments where the table had been laid and food was being served. Charis took her place and helped herself to fresh figs and warm flatbread. Annubi lingered in the doorway, staring at the table and those gathered around it. Briseis saw him and rose slowly to her feet. An unspoken question passed between them, for the seer answered with a slight shake of his head. Briseis only nodded. "Come, Annubi, have something to eat," she said softly. "The king has already gone, and Kian with him. We have time, though. Sit with us."
Annubi stumbled forward and sank into a chair at the table. A plate of dates, fruit, and soft cheese was offered to him by a servant. He stared at the plate and then shook his head. The servant moved on.
"Annubi has been to see the Magi," announced Charis. "He says they behaved like venomous lizards."
"Lizards!" laughed Maildun.
"Tell us, what did they say?" asked Eoinn.
"Yes, tell us!" Guistan said.
"Leave Annubi alone," Briseis coaxed. "He has been working very hard and he is tired."
"Did they show you any secrets?" Maildun asked.
"Did they tell you the future?" Eoinn wondered.
"Tell us!" demanded Guistan.
Annubi glared sullenly at his eager audience and muttered, "The Magi told me that unbridled curiosity would be the sad undoing of three young princes from Sarras."
"They would never say that!" huffed Maildun.
"Liar!" cried Guistan.
"Boys!" snapped Briseis. "That is enough. You may leave."
The princes jumped up from the table and clattered from the room. Briseis sighed softly. "I am sorry, Annubi. It seems they grow more uncouth daily."
Annubi looked cross, but shrugged and said, "They are young and life has no limits. Nothing is impossible, nothing beyond doing or knowing. The world is theirs and everything in it. Let them go.…let them go."
"It is hard to imagine I ever felt like that," Briseis replied. "Still, I suppose I did."
"Oh, you did—we all did…once. It passes," Annubi observed, and added, "Nothing lasts forever."
Charis saw the worry lines on the seer's face and realized it had been a long time since she had seen him smile. She shifted her gaze to her mother and an image flashed in her mind: the queen and the seer standing together among the pillars, her mother's hand on his sleeve, the odd, strained expression as she moved away. It was the same expression the queen wore now.
"No, nothing lasts forever," Briseis agreed, straightening her shoulders. She raised her head, smiling thinly, eyes shining.
Annubi climbed slowly to his feet. "I smell of blood and incense. I must go bathe and change my clothes," he said.
"Rest, Annubi. Join us later if you wish."
He paused, then assented. "Very well, I will join you at the court."
The king's advisor turned and walked to the door, stopped and turned back. "It is not certain." He barked a bitter laugh. "Nothing is ever certain. I have learned that, at least."
"Go now; rest. We will talk later. Oh, Annubi?" He looked at her with his tired eyes. "Thank you," she said simply.
The seer inclined his head and bowed, making the sign of the sun. "Portents are ever false messengers," he replied. "May it be so now."
Charis thought the exchange extremely odd. When Annubi had gone she asked, "Mother, what is it? What is wrong?"
The queen did not answer but held out her arms instead. Charis leaned into her mother's embrace. "Charis," Briseis whispered, her mouth against her daughter's hair, "there is so much you have to learn…so little time."
"But what is it?"
Briseis paused—so long that Charis thought her mother had not heard—then held her out at arm's length. "Listen," she said, her voice thick and hushed. "Charis, my soul, I love you. Do you understand?"
Mystified, Charis swallowed hard. "I love you, too. But—"
"Do not ask, my darling." The queen shook her head slowly. "Love is all, Charis. Remember that."
Charis nodded and buried her face in the hollow of her mother's neck, felt her mother's hands stroking her gently. "Now then," said Briseis after a moment, "it is time to go. Elaine is to meet us at the entrance to the temple. Are you ready?"
Charis nodded, dabbing away the tear that had squeezed out from under her lashes. "I am ready." They went out to join the others and make their way to the temple where the Rites of Kingship would take place.
* * *
There were four courts in the Temple of the Sun, one above another, the pillars of each made from a different metal: bronze for the lowest court, brass for the one above it, gold for the next, and orichalcum for the highest. It was in the highest court that the kings gathered to make obeisance to Bel and renew their vows of kingship by participating in the ancient rites.
Eight kings and the High King, each wearing simple mantles of unbleached linen, entered the court and gathered around a giant brazier filled with glowing coals. The High Mage stood before the brazier and other Magi arranged themselves accordingly, two behind each king.
When all was made ready, the High Mage made the sun sign with his hands in the ai
r and cried an invocation to Bel in a high, breaking voice. Then his hands swirled in the air and he nodded to the Magi, who put their hands on the kings' shoulders. "Power is an earthly garment," intoned the High Mage. "What is put on can be stripped away."
As these words were spoken a tremendous tearing sound filled the court when the Magi seized the kings' mantles and ripped them to the hem and cast the pieces to the floor. The kings stepped naked from the rags of their clothing and drew near to the brazier where they stood with hands extended. The High Mage lifted a large alabaster jar and poured it over the coals. The burning coals sputtered and aromatic steam rolled to the domed vault of the chamber.
"Let the god's breath cleanse you," said the priest. He produced a hyssop bough and held it in the steam for a moment and then began to move among the kings, striking them with the bough, first on the hands and arms and then over the chest and shoulders, back, buttocks, and thighs. The kings breathed the steam deep into their lungs and endured the lashings in silence.
When the High Mage had completed his circuit, he returned to his place and motioned for the calyx to be brought forth. Two Magi came forward bearing the huge vessel between them, and another Mage brought a long-handled ladle. Dipping the ladle into the calyx, the High Mage raised it over the head of the High King, who lowered his head as the High Mage poured the of the ladle over him, dipping now and again until the king's skin gleamed with the golden oil.
The process was repeated with each remaining king in turn: Itazais, Meirchion, Hugaderan, Musaeus, Belyn, Avallach, Seithenin, and Nestor. When he had finished, the High Mage raised his voice to them and said, "You have been cleansed and anointed. Go now and enter the god's presence and seek the god's favor."
A door at one end of the court opened, and the kings filed slowly into a round inner chamber where a huge iron crater filled with burning coals stood in the center of a ring of three-legged stools. The kings squatted on the stools facing away from the caldron and each other. Magi, stripped to the waist, entered with jars and the door was closed, leaving the chamber in darkness save for the glowing hot metal of the crater of coals which cast its lurid light over the interior.
There came a tremendous hissing sound, and the chamber filled with sweet-smelling vapor that boiled from the red-hot coals in a thick cloud over the kings crouched on their stools. The kings breathed the vapor deep and let its sense-numbing narcotic steal over them.
The Magi stole around the ring with hyssop branches, lashing at the naked, sweating bodies before them. The chamber remained in darkness and silence, save for the swish-swat of the priests' branches and the hissing of the coals as, from time to time, another jar was emptied into the crater.
An hour passed, and another; at the end of the third, the door of the chamber was opened and the kings rose from their cramped positions to stagger out into the court once more. As each king emerged, he was met by a Mage bearing an armful of fragrant eucalyptus leaves. The kings took handfuls of the leaves and rubbed the sweat and oil from their bodies, and then each was presented with a spotless mantle of new white linen by the High Mage, who tied each mantle with a golden cord.
Avallach stepped from the chamber and rubbed himself dry with the leaves, and then presented himself to the High Mage, who gave him the mantle. It was as the priest bent to tie the cord that Avallach sensed something wrong—he saw it first in the Mage's eyes as they slid past him to the chamber door beyond. Avallach followed the look too, but saw nothing amiss.
He turned his head and saw Belyn, frowning, handfuls of leaves idle at his side. "Yes," he thought, "he feels it, too. Something is wrong…but what?"
The High Mage finished tying the cord and pushed past Avallach toward the chamber door. It was then that Avallach guessed what had happened. His quick glance around the room confirmed what he already knew: nine kings had entered the chamber, only eight had emerged.
Avallach followed the High Mage into the chamber. The aromatic vapor streamed across the floor in twisting snakes; the great iron crater still glowed. And there, dimly outlined on the floor where he had fallen, lay Ceremon, knees to his chest, resting on his side.
In two quick strides Avallach was beside the High King. He knelt down and held a hand over Ceremon's heart. Belyn rushed into the chamber. "Is he dead?"
"He is," replied Avallach softly.
The other kings now came rushing into the chamber. Itazais knelt beside Avallach and pressed his ear against the High King's chest. He sat back slowly, shaking his head in disbelief.
Icy silence closed over the group. Avallach looked at the encircling faces; even in the dim illumination of the glowing crater he could see them calculating, weighing and judging what gains might be made.
"How?" asked Musaeus, his voice creaking in the silence.
Itazais stared at the body. "I see no wound."
"We must move him into the light," said Avallach, straightening Ceremon's legs. Itazais lifted the body under the arms and they carried it into the court while the others crowded in behind.
"Look!" said Hugaderan, pointing at Itazais. "Look at his hand!"
Itazais looked down in horror: his left hand was dripping with fresh blood.
Avallach moved to the High King's torso and rolled the body up. A tiny pool of blood lay beneath the shoulders. "Raise his arm," he said. No one moved, so Avallach reached out and pulled on the limp arm. The body sagged and the movement opened the wound. A red-black gush cascaded down Ceremon's ribs and splashed onto the floor.
"Murder!" screamed the Mage, thrusting himself from among them. He ran from the court, crying, "Murder! The High King is dead!"
* * *
It was very late when Avallach returned to his rooms. Briseis was there to meet him as he lurched through the doorway. She pulled him to a couch and pushed him gently into it. "Sit," she told him. "Rest. I have had food prepared." She pushed a low table up and moved the candletree near.
"I am not hungry," he said, rubbing his hands over his face.
She brought out a platter of cold meat and bread and placed a bowl of fruit on the table before him. "Is there wine?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, "but it is not good in an empty stomach. You have not eaten all day."
"Bring me the wine."
She poured wine into a cup and brought it to him and offered the platter of bread and meat. He took some bread and she handed him the cup. "Was it very bad?" the queen asked.
"Worse than my deepest fears." Avallach drained the cup and handed it to his wife to refill. He torc a bit of bread, lifted it to his mouth, and chewed slowly. She passed back the cup and then moved around behind him, placed her hands on his shoulders and began massaging the tight-bunched muscles at the base of his neck. He closed his eyes and let his head fall forward.
After a while he put his hand over hers and drew her down beside him. He kissed her and then sipped his wine. "Has Annubi returned?"
"Not yet," Briseis answered. "I instructed him to come back here and wait for you. I did not know how long you would be."
Avallach nodded and tore off some more bread. His color had improved and he began to relax. Briseis picked up a fruit knife, sliced a pear, and offered him a piece. He leaned back and propped his legs on the table, holding his cup against his chest. "There was no weapon found."
"No one saw or heard anything inside the chamber?" Briseis asked.
"One did."
"Nestor?"
"I would stake my kingdom on it."
"But why?"
"My guess is that Ceremon had decided to strip Nestor of his crown. Nestor could not allow it to happen. Perhaps he saw in Ceremon's death a chance to remove the threat to his kingship and advance his war schemes at the same time."
"Did no one accuse him openly?" Briseis wondered.
"Belyn challenged him," replied Avallach wearily, "but there was no weapon discovered—I searched for it myself. And as the murder obviously occurred when all were together and no one heard or saw anything, who is to
say it was not the hand of the god himself that struck Ceremon down."
"You do not believe that."
"No, but there are those who might—if it suited them. Itazais suggested it, and Musaeus fastened on the idea like a dog on a meat bone. They preferred that to dealing with Belyn's accusation outright."
"And Nestor?"
"Nestor is cold and cunning and knew well enough to keep his mouth shut, to weather the storm of accusation without saying anything that might lay further suspicion at his feet. Even so, I am certain he did it, or if not he knows who did and put them up to it. Either way, the High King's blood is on his hands."
"What will happen now?"
"That we will know as soon as Annubi returns."
"No, I mean who will succeed Ceremon?"
"He has a wife of a royal house."
Briseis' eyebrows went up at this. "Danea?"
"Danea. Who else?" Avallach's lips curved in a bitter smile. "Succession may pass to the wife if there is no heir and the woman is of a royal house."
"But I thought—"
"Apparently so did Nestor," said Avallach. "It was Meirchion who reminded us of it. To reign she need only be accepted by the royal council."
"But is that likely?"
"Inevitable, I would say. I was the one to demand it."
"You?" Briseis' eyes went wide. "But, Avallach, you might have been High King."
"Perhaps." He shrugged. "Belyn and Seithenin would have supported me. But Musaeus wanted it too, and badly. Nestor and Hugaderan would have intimidated Itazais into going along with them."
"And Meirchion would have supported you."
"Yes, and that is where we would be: deadlocked." He looked at his wife and took her hand. "I am sorry."
"I care nothing for the High Queen's crown, husband," she said. "Or for Poseidonis."
"I have no ambition but to see Nestor found out and his plots crushed." He took another sip of wine. "This seemed the best way of putting the deadlock behind us. As it stands, Danea must be shown to be unworthy or unfit to rule, and she is neither. Also, I would not have the council forget that we have a murderer in our midst—which they might be tempted to do if there were an advantage to be gained by ignoring it."