Ash: The Lost History
Chapter 140 : Gelimer ignored Ash. He spoke to Floria, his gaze s.h.i.+fting between her and the oth

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.

"So you're not a hypocrite." Ash wiped wind-tears out of her eyes. "Yeah. Right."

"I never bothered much about praying, it was priest's work. I'm a knight." The tall, golden-haired man stopped. He spoke under the noise the men made. "I was one. I'm a priest now. Maybe G.o.d made me see how f.u.c.king crazy this fighting is! All I know is, one day I was a traitor Frankish knight, with no patron, and n.o.body listening to me - and now I'm not killing anyone, and I might just get some of Gelimer's n.o.bles to listen when I say this war's wrong. If you call that hypocrisy - fine."

"Ah, s.h.i.+t."

Something in her tone obviously puzzled him. He shot a glance at her.

"Nothing," Ash snapped. She felt resentful; bad-tempered.

I might not have liked the separation, but at least it was settled. I might not have liked you being a weaselling, lying little s.h.i.+tbag - but at least I knew where I was with you.

I resent you making me think about this again. Feel again.

"Nothing," Ash repeated, under her breath.

If he had had a glib answer, she would have walked away from him. Fernando del Guiz looked down at the flagstones in adolescent male embarra.s.sment, kicking his boot-heel against the ground, under the hem of his robe.

Ash sighed. "Why did you have to come back doing something I can respect?"

A ma.s.s of people blocked the company tower's steps. She heard Florian's raw voice raised. One glance found her Anselm; without more prompting, he began to give brisk orders. Men in company livery began to s.h.i.+ft Burgundian courtiers out of the arched doorway.

Without looking at Fernando, she said, "You're wrong, you know. About war. And if there was a better way than going to war, we're long past the point where it was an issue. But I suppose you've had the guts to put your b.a.l.l.s on the line ..."

He coughed, or laughed, she was not sure which. "This is the Arian priesthood, not Our Lady of the b.l.o.o.d.y Crescent!"

One of the escorting Turkish soldiers glanced across at that; nudged his mate, and said something under his breath. Ash stifled her grin.

"The G.o.ddess Astarte's very popular round here right now, so let's keep the religious dissent to a minimum, shall we?"

Fernando's smile was warm. "And you call me a hypocrite."

"I'm not a hypocrite," Ash said, turning to go into the tower as the crowd cleared. "I'm an equal-opportunities heretic - I think you're all talking through your a.r.s.es ..."

"This from the woman who was marked by the Lion?" He made a movement, reaching up to brush her scarred cheek with his gloved hand. She had let him touch her skin before she realised she was not going to move.

"That was then," she said. "This is now."

She heard, ahead, a roar of male laughter; loped up the steps to the door and walked in, in the midst of her escort, into chaos in the lower hall.

"Boss!"Henri Brant gave her a smile that showed the gap between his missing front teeth. He slapped the shoulder of a man shouting into the crowded hall: Richard Faversham, in green robes, his beard untrimmed, his face flushed.

Momentarily forgetting the others with her, Ash stared at the tower's first-floor hall. A fierce fire burned in the hearth, surrounded by off-duty Lion Azure mercenaries in various states of dishevelment ladling some liquid out of a cauldron. The beams were draped and hung with long strands of ivy. Baldina banged a tabor; blind and lame Carracci sat with her, fingering out notes on a recorder in duet with Antonio Angelotti. There were no trestle tables covered in yellowing linen, but men sat with their wooden bowls and cups where tables would have been ranked against either wall. She smelled cooking.

"Merry Ma.s.s of Christ!" Henri Brant exclaimed, his warm breath hitting her in the face. Whatever they were drinking - not having the swine to feed now, it was probably fermented turnip-peelings - it had a kick to it.

"G.o.d bless you!" Richard Faversham leaned down and gave her the kiss of peace. "Christ be with you!"

"And with you," Ash growled. She ignored Floria's chuckle. After a second, surveying the hall and her men, she grinned at Henri Brant. "I take it you're doing two servings, so the lads on duty can come back here?"

"Either that, or find my b.a.l.l.s boiling in the pot!" The steward pushed his coif back on his sheepswool-curly white hair, sweating from the heat of close-packed bodies if not from the fire. "We couldn't h.o.a.rd much. Master Anselm thought, as I did, better to eat now and starve the sooner, rather than let the Christ-Ma.s.s pa.s.s without celebration. So did Master Faversham!"

Ash studied the large black-bearded Englishman for a moment.

"Well done!" She clasped both men's hands warmly. "G.o.d knows we need something to keep our minds off this s.h.i.+t-hole we're in!"

Unguarded, she looked around and met the gaze of Fernando del Guiz inside his concealing hood. He was watching the soldiers and their spa.r.s.e revelry with a strange expression. Not contempt, she guessed. Compa.s.sion? No. Not Fernando.

"We're holding council. The Burgundians will be along any minute. I'll come down for ma.s.s. Henri, can you send Roberto to me? And Angeli. I'll be up in the solar."

The tower's top floor had been dressed in her absence. Green ivy hung stark over the round arches, bright against the sand-and-ochre colours of the walls. A h.o.a.rded single Green candle burned, scenting the room. Rickard turned from supervising the pages as she entered: obviously proud of the evergreen, the hearth-fire, the food in preparation - and stopped, his face freezing, recognising Fernando del Guiz under the hood.

"The d.u.c.h.ess will have this hall to speak with her brother," Ash said formally. "Rickard, we're expecting de la Marche, can you clear that with the guys on the door, and get these kids out of here?"

"Boss." Rickard looked twice at the robes under the cloak, then stalked past Fernando del Guiz, glared brows dipping, hand resting down on his sword-hilt. She noted, as he walked out with the pages, that the boy was as tall as the German ex-knight now. Not a boy. A squire, a young man; all this in the last half-year.

"Good grief!" Floria shook her head, saying nothing more. She moved closer to the hearth, let her cloak fall open, and extended her hands to the blaze. Ash saw she was wearing a fur-lined demi-gown over male doublet and hose again.

Fernando del Guiz reached up and put his hood back. He looked quizzically at the surgeon-d.u.c.h.ess. "Sister. You make a strange d.u.c.h.ess."

"Oh, you think so?" Her gaze warmed. "And you don't make a strange priest?"

Ash blurted, "Why the h.e.l.l pick you to come in here? Because priests are sacrosanct? De la Marche would love a traitor to hang up on the walls - cheer everybody up, that would!"

Fernando still spoke to Floria. "I had no choice. I came up with the Abbot m.u.t.h.ari, from Carthage. The King-Caliph dragged me into court as soon as he heard who the d.u.c.h.ess of Burgundy was. They interrogated me - not that there's much I could tell him, is there, Floria?"

"No." Floria turned to watch the fire. "I remember seeing you once, when I was about ten. The only time I ever stayed on my father's German estates. You would have been born that year."

"Mother used to have Tante Jeanne to stay - is she still alive? - and they'd talk about you in whispers."

His face creased under his rumpled hair. Ash thought she saw something relaxed, despite the circ.u.mstances, in his humour. As if he were comfortable with himself.

He added, "I thought you'd run off with a man. I didn't know you'd run off to be a man!"

"I 'ran off' to be a doctor!" Floria snapped.

"And now you're Burgundy's d.u.c.h.ess." He looked at Ash. "Then it came out that you were made captain of the Burgundian armies here, and I was doubly useful."

Ash snapped, "That must have made a pleasant change."

"Except that I could tell him even less about you - 'she's a soldier; I married her; she doesn't trust me'. I could tell him how good a soldier you are. And I'm not, you see. But by now, they know that."

His wry expression confused her. Ash looked away. She had an impulse to provide him with food, with drink. An impulse to touch the faint blond stubble on his cheek.

Deliberately brutal, she said, "No. You're not. The rag-heads still letting you keep Guizburg?"

"Priests have no lands. I've lost most of what I had. I'm still useful, by virtue of being Floria's brother. While I'm useful, I can talk - this is a hopeless war, for both sides-"