.
soldiers, then.’
‘Notice how quick he is?’ Kalten observed to the others.
‘How many?’ Tynian asked.
‘It looks like a reinforced platoon.’
Bevier loosened his Lochaber axe in its sling.
‘Keep that under cover,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘The rest of you hide your weapons as well.’ Then he raised his voice. ‘Good vicar,’ he called ahead. ‘How about a hymn? The miles go easier with sacred music for company.’
The vicar cleared his throat and began to sing in a rusty, off-key voice. Wearily, but responding automatically to their pastor’s lead, the other pilgrims joined in.
‘Sing!’ Sparhawk commanded his companions, and they all raised their voices in the familiar hymn. As they bawled their song, Flute lifted her pipes and played a mocking little counterpoint.
‘Stop that,’ Sparhawk murmured to her. ‘And if there’s trouble, slide down and run out into that field.’
She rolled her eyes at him.
‘Do as you’re told, young lady. I don’t want you getting trampled if there’s a fight.’
The church soldiers, however, pounded past the column of hymn-singing pilgrims with hardly a glance and were soon lost in the distance ahead.
‘Tense,’ Ulath commented.
‘Truly,’ Tynian agreed. ‘Trying to fight in the middle of a crowd of terrified pilgrims might have been interesting.’
‘Do you think they were searching for us?’ Berit asked.
‘It’s hard to say,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘I wasn’t going to stop them to ask, though.’
They moved southward towards Madel in easy stages to conserve the sorry mounts of the vicar’s parishioners, and they arrived on the outskirts of the port city about noon on the fourth day out of Borrata. When the town came into view, Sparhawk rode forward to join the vicar at the head of the column. He handed the good man a pouch full of coins. ‘We’ll be leaving you here,’ he said. ‘A matter has come up that needs our attention.’
The vicar gave him a speculative look. ‘This was all subterfuge, wasn’t it, my Lord?’ he asked gravely. ‘I may be only the poor pastor of a poverty-stricken chapel, but I recognize the manner and bearing of Church Knights when I see them.’
‘Forgive us, good vicar,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘Take your people to the holy places here in Madel. Lead them in prayer and then see to it that they’re well fed. Then return to Borrata and use whatever money is left as you see fit.’
‘And may I do this with a clear conscience, my son?’
‘The clearest, good pastor. My friends and I serve the Church in a matter of gravest urgency, and your aid will be appreciated by the members of the Hierocracy in Chyrellos – most of them, at any rate.’ Then Sparhawk turned Faran around and rode back to his companions. ‘All right, Bevier,’ he said. ‘Take us to your chapterhouse.’
‘I have been considering that, Sir Sparhawk,’ Bevier replied. ‘Our chapterhouse here is closely watched by local authorities and all manner of other folk. Even garbed as we are, we would surely be recognized.’
Sparhawk grunted. ‘You’re probably right. Can you think of any alternatives?’
‘Perhaps so. As it happens, I have a kinsman – a marquis from eastern Arcium – who has a villa on the outskirts of the city. I have not seen him for some years – our family disapproved of him because he’s in trade – but perhaps he will remember me. He’s a good-natured fellow, and if I approach him right, he might extend his hospitality.’
‘It’s worth a try, I guess. All right. Lead the way.’
They rode around the western outskirts of Madel to an opulent house surrounded by a low wall built of the local sandstone. The house was set back some distance from the road and was surrounded by tall evergreens and well-groomed lawns. There was a gravelled court directly in front of the house, and they dismounted there. A servant in sober livery emerged from the house and approached inquiringly.
‘Would you be so good as to advise the marquis that his second cousin, Sir Bevier, and several friends would like to have a word with him?’ the Cyrinic inquired politely.
‘At once, my Lord.’ The servant turned and re-entered the house.
The man who emerged from the house a few moments later was stout and had a florid face. He wore one of the colourful silk robes common in southern Cammoria rather than Arcian doublet and hose, and his welcoming grin was broad. ‘Bevier,’ he greeted his distant cousin with a warm handclasp. ‘What are you doing in Cammoria?’
‘Seeking refuge, Lycien,’ Bevier replied. His open young face clouded momentarily. ‘The family has not treated you well, Lycien,’ he admitted. ‘I could not blame you if you turned me and my friends away.’
‘Nonsense, Bevier. The decision to take up trading was mine. I knew how the rest of the family would feel about it. I’m delighted to see you. You mentioned refuge?’
Bevier nodded. ‘We’re here on Church business of some delicacy,’ he said, ‘and there are a few too many eyes watching the Cyrinic chapterhouse in the city. I know it’s a great deal to ask, but might we impose on your hospitality?’
‘By all means, my boy, by all means.’ Marquis Lycien clapped his hands sharply, and several grooms came out of the stables. ‘See to the mounts of these visitors and their cart,’ the marquis ordered. Then he laid his hand on Bevier’s shoulder. ‘Come in,’ he invited them all. ‘My house is yours.’ He turned and led the way through the low, arched doorway and on into the house. Once they were inside, they followed him to a pleasant room with low, cushioned furniture and a fireplace where several logs crackled and snapped. ‘Please, friends, sit,’ Lycien said. Then he looked speculatively at them. ‘This Church business of yours must be very important, Bevier,’ he guessed. ‘Judging from their features, I’d say that your friends represent all four of the militant orders.’
‘Your eyes are sharp, Marquis,’ Sparhawk told him.
‘Am I going to get in trouble over this?’ Lycien asked. Then he grinned. ‘Not that I care, mind you. It’s just that I like to be prepared.’
‘It’s not too likely,’ Sparhawk assured him. ‘Particularly if we’re successful in our mission. Tell me, my Lord, do you have contacts in the harbour?’
‘Extensive ones, Sir –’
‘Sparhawk,’ the Pandion supplied.
‘Champion of the Queen of Elenia?’ Lycien looked surprised. ‘I heard that you’d returned from your exile in Rendor; but aren’t you a bit far afield? Shouldn’t you be in Cimmura trying to circumvent the attempts of the Primate Annias to depose your lady?’
‘You’re well informed, my Lord,’ Sparhawk said.
‘I have widespread commercial contacts.’ Lycien shrugged. He winked at Bevier. ‘That’s what disgraced me in the eyes of the family. My agent and the masters of my ships gather much information in the course of their dealings.’
‘I gather, my Lord, that you’re not overly fond of the Primate of Cimmura?’
‘The man’s a scoundrel.’
‘Our sentiments exactly,’ Kalten agreed.
‘Very well, then, my Lord,’ Sparhawk said. ‘What we’re involved with is an attempt to counter the growing power of the primate. If we’re successful, we can stop him in his tracks. I’d tell you more, but it might be dangerous for you if you knew too many of the details.’
‘I can appreciate that, Sir Sparhawk,’ Lycien said. ‘Tell me, in what way can I help?’