Part 140 (1/2)
Gelimer ignored Ash. He spoke to Floria, his gaze s.h.i.+fting between her and the other Burgundians. ”You can see beyond your walls, you are not blind. I have three full legions outside Dijon. It is obvious you cannot hold out. Surrender Dijon. By the courtesies of war, I give you this chance, but nothing more. Send me your answer, by my envoy - tomorrow, on the feast of St Stephen.”
Chapter Five.”Get that b.l.o.o.d.y sap blocked up again!” Ash ordered. ”Barrels of rocks first, and then earth. I don't want anyone a.s.saulting in through there. Move it!”
”Yes, Captain!” One of the Burgundian commanders strode back to his men, where they sat or crouched under the remains of shattered houses; directing them with brief, efficient shouts.
Floria said, ”One of you - Thomas Rochester - tell de la Marche I'll be with Ash. Call the council.”
”I'll go,” John de Vere forestalled her. ”Madam, I am anxious to discuss the Caliph's words with Master de la Marche; shall I bring him to you?”
At Floria's nod, the English Earl gave an order to his interpreter and marched off rapidly at the head of the Janissaries.
The rumbling of rubble-filled barrels across the cobbles drowned out the noise of their pa.s.sing. The streets smelled of burning. The freezing wind blew, not the wood-smoke of cooking fires, but Greek Fire's metallic tang. Ash glanced from the men in jacks and war-hats, slinging meal-sacks full of dirt in a chain towards the entrance to the counter-mine, to Floria, the woman pulling off the horn crown and running her fingers through her man-short gold hair. Hair as short as her brother's.
”Let's go,” Ash said. ”Shame if a long shot from a mangonel sprayed you all over the pavement, now.”
”You don't think they'll keep this truce?”
”Not if we present them with an opportunity!” Ash looked away from Floria to Fernando del Guiz. He stood in the middle of the Lion Azure mercenaries. Recognisable as a renegade to anyone who knew his face from Neuss, or Genoa, or Basle.
”Get him covered up.” Ash spoke to one of Rochester's sergeants. ”Give him your hood and cloak.”
She watched the sergeant put the cloak on Fernando del Guiz, knot the ties; tug the caped hood over his bare head, and pull the hood forward. A pang moved her: wanting, herself, to be the one to do it. He's my husband. I've lain with this man. I could have had his child.
But I stopped wanting him before I left Carthage. He's a weak man. There's nothing to him but good looks!
”Bring him along with us,” Ash said. ”Florian's going to be in the hospice at the tower, anyway.”
There was an imperceptible relaxation in the mercenaries standing around Fernando del Guiz. It wouldn't have been there if he had still been in knight's armour, she thought. She could read on their faces the thought, It's only a priest.
”For those of you who don't know,” she said, raising her voice a little, ”this man used to be a knight in Holy Roman Emperor Frederick's court. Don't a.s.sume you can let him anywhere near a sword. Okay: let's move out.”
With undertones of self-satisfaction in his voice, Fernando protested, ”I'm an envoy, and a Christian priest. You don't have to be afraid of me, Ash.”
”Afraid of you?”
She stared at him for a moment, snorted, and turned away.
Floria murmured, ”Gelimer doesn't know me very well. Does he? Blood's much thinner than water in this respect.”
Ash made an effort and achieved cynicism. ”Fernando probably told Gelimer you were his loving sister and he could persuade you to turn cartwheels naked through Dijon's north gate while signing a surrender ...”
”Or that he was your loving husband. Let's go,” the surgeon-d.u.c.h.ess invited.
Stepping out into the wrecked territory behind the city gates, Ash couldn't prevent the automatic upward glance. Of the party, only Fernando looked bewilderedly at the soldiers, up at the sky, and back down at Ash again.
”Oh, I trust Gelimer to keep the truce ...” Ash remarked, with a raucous sarcasm.
Ash moved off in the familiar position: surrounded by a group of armed men. Between banner and escort, and keeping her footing on the paths raked clear of masonry, there was little of her attention she could spare for the German ex-knight. Little of her mind that she could give over to the thought That's my husband! She felt glad of it. Cold bit deep. The sap below the earth had felt warmer than these chill, exposed streets of Dijon, and the empty winter sky. Ash beat her hands together as she walked, the plates of the gauntlets c.h.i.n.king. Shadows streamed north from the roofs, and the abbey bell rang for Terce. A quick glance up a.s.sured her of the Burgundian and the Lion presence on the city walls, keeping the besiegers under surveillance.
As they reached the streets in the south of the city, Florian gave her a curious look and signalled the guards to move up as she quickened her pace. It left Ash and Fernando side by side, he overtopping her by a head, a slight degree of privacy ensured by respect for commander-in-chief and d.u.c.h.ess.
Let 'em listen, Ash thought.
”Well,” she said. ”At least you're still the d.u.c.h.ess's brother. I suppose you've divorced me.”
It came out entirely as sardonic as she had intended it. There was no shake in her voice.
Fernando del Guiz looked down at her with stone-green eyes. Close up, she was very conscious of the power of his body, striding beside her; knew equally that most of the attraction stemmed from him not knowing it, from his unconsciousness - still! - that it was anything special to be well-fed and clean and strong.
I thought I got over this! In Carthage! Oh s.h.i.+t. . .
”It wasn't a divorce, in the end.” He sounded faintly apologetic, dropping his voice and looking around at the escorting mercenaries. ”Abbot m.u.t.h.ari's learned doctors decreed it wasn't a valid marriage, not between a free man of the n.o.bility and a bondswoman. They annulled it.”
”Ah. Isn't that convenient. Doesn't keep you out of the priesthood.” She couldn't stop some of the astounded curiosity she felt leaking into her tone. What she felt about an annulment was not available to her yet. I'll think about that later, when I've got time to spare.
Fernando del Guiz said nothing, only glancing down at her and away again.
”Jesus, Fernando, what is this!”
”This?”
She reached across and prodded his chest, just below the oak pendant of Christ on the Tree; thought, That was a mistake, I still want to touch him, how d.a.m.n obvious can I get!, and grunted, ”'This'. This priest's get-up you're in. You're not seriously telling me you've taken vows!”
”I am.” Fernando looked down at her. ”I took my first vows in Carthage. Abbot m.u.t.h.ari let me take the second vows when he reconsecrated the cathedral in Ma.r.s.eilles. G.o.d accepted me, Ash.”
”The Arian G.o.d.”
Fernando shrugged. ”All the same thing, isn't it? Doesn't matter which name you call it.”
”Shees.h.!.+” Impressed by the careless dismissal of eleven centuries of schism, Ash couldn't help smiling. ”Why, Fernando? Don't tell me G.o.d called you, either. He's really sc.r.a.ping the bottom of the barrel if He did!”
When she looked up to meet Fernando's gaze, he looked both embarra.s.sed and determined.
”I had the idea after you talked to me in Carthage. You were right. I was still taking the King-Caliph's arms and armour: why would he listen to me say we shouldn't be fighting this war? So I thought of this. This is the only way I can give up the sword and still have men listen to me.”
She kept looking at him, long enough for her concentration to miss a beat, and for her foot to catch a fragment of broken brick. Recovering with a sword-fighter's balance from the stumble, she said, half-stifled, ”You entered the church for that?”
His mouth set, mulishly, making him look momentarily no more than a boy. ”I don't want to be ignored like a peasant or a woman! If I'm not knightly, then I have to be something they'll respect. I'm still del Guiz. I'm still n.o.ble! I've just taken my vows to be a peregrinatus christi.”
Tears swelled the lower lids of her eyes. Ash looked into the wind and blinked, sharply. She was momentarily in Carthage's palace, hearing a n.a.z.ir say Let him through, it's only the peregrinatus christi, and seeing G.o.dfrey's lined, bearded face in the ma.s.s of foreign soldiers.
I need him here, now, not as a voice in my head!
”You'll never be a priest,” she said harshly. ”You're a f.u.c.king hypocrite.”
”No.”
The escort clattered under the gateway and into the courtyard in front of the company tower. A blaze of cold wind whipped in through the open gates, spooking the remaining horses. Anselm bellowed orders to the men, over the noise from the forge. Florian immediately found herself intercepted by a dozen courtiers.