Ash: The Lost History Part 68

"Oath-breaker!" the King-Caliph announced, with some satisfaction. "You see whom you trust, Leofric? She and her husband both! All these Franks are treacherous, unreliable b.a.s.t.a.r.ds!"

G.o.dfrey Maximillian straight-armed two soldiers out of the way; Ash grabbed him as the troop closed in, manhandling the priest back. Unknown to her, her face twisted into a bitter smile. I always wanted to be known across Christendom - so much for fame.

"G.o.dfrey! It doesn't matter what did happen!" She shook him vehemently. "It doesn't matter that my story's true. Can you see me trying to explain it? What's true is what they believe. Sweet Christ, what the h.e.l.l did the truth ever matter!"

"But, child-!"

"We'll have to handle it another way. I'll get us out of here."

''How?"

A shrieking horn drowned out his voice. The King-Caliph, Gelimer, sat with his arm upraised. Silence fell, across the whole rotunda. Slowly, Gelimer lowered his arm.

"We are not this day anointed King so that we may debate with our lords. Leofric, she is an approved traitor. She will be executed. She is a monster, of course," Gelimer leaned back on his throne, "hearing voices; as your other child is, but your other child is at least loyal. Perhaps, when you put this one under the knife, you will be able to tell us, my lord, where in the heart treachery lies."

A burr of sycophantic laughter went around the court.

Ash gazed at the faces of n.o.bles and knights, bishops and abbots, merchants and soldiers; and found nothing but curious, avid, amused expressions. Men. No women, no slaves, no clay golems.

King-Caliph Gelimer sat resting both arms on the arms of the throne, his slender hands cupping the carved foliage, his back straight, his braided beard jutting as he stared around at the thousands of men gathered under the roof of the palace and the great Mouth of G.o.d above his head.

"Amirs of Carthage." Gelimer's tenor voice echoed under the dome. "You have heard one of your number here, the amir of House Leofric, doubt our victory in the north."

Ash became conscious of Leofric stirring, in irritated surprise, at her side, and thought, He didn't see this coming. s.h.i.t!

The new King-Caliph's voice rang out again: "Amirs of Carthage, commanders of the empire of the Visigoth people, you have not elected me to this throne to lead you to defeat - or even to a weak peace. Peace is for the weak. We are strong."

Gelimer's bright black gaze f;ickered across Ash.

"No peace!" he repeated. "And not the war that weaklings fight, my amirs. The war of the strong. In the heretic lands of the north, we are fighting a war against Burgundy, most powerful of all the heretic nations of Christendom. Most rich in her wealth, most rich in her armies, most powerful in her Duke. And this Burgundy we shall conquer."

Under the painted foliage of the Mouth of G.o.d, under the stone rim opening upon the black day skies of Carthage, every man is silent.

Gelimer said, "But we are not content merely to conquer. We will not merely defeat Burgundy, the most mighty nation. We will raze Burgundy to the ground. Our armies will burn their way north from Savoy to Flanders. Every field, every farm, every village, every town, every city - we will destroy. Every cog, carrack and warship - we will destroy. Every heretic lord, bishop and villein, we will destroy. And the great Duke of Burgundy, the great conquering Duke and all his kin - we will kill. He, his heirs, his successors, to the last man, woman and child - we will kill. And with this example, my amirs, we shall be the overlords of Christendom, and none will dare dispute our right."

A great roar shocked through her at his last word. Gaiseric grinned, yelling, at her side. The 'arif Alderic gave a great shout. Ash winced at the deep noise from thousands of male throats; a shout she has heard on battlefields, but now - hammering back at her from the walls of the dome - it frightens her; twists in her cold belly along with her fear for her life.

G.o.dfrey whispered in her ear, "I see it now. That's how he got elected. Rhetoric."

The noise began to die down, echoing away from the throne at the centre of the hall. The men of House Leofric continued to stand stolidly under their banners.

The King-Caliph leaned down towards Leofric. "You see, Amir? We have, still, the advice of the Stone Golem: that Burgundy shall be destroyed, as an example to all others. The Stone Golem has been our guide and advisor for many generations of King-Caliphs; for more years than we have had the use of your female general. And as for your second slave-b.a.s.t.a.r.d - she is not necessary to us at all. Dispose of her."

The last cold dots of sleet starred Ash's cheeks, falling from the chasm above her head. The heat of the candles and the cold of the wind from outside set her shivering. A force of emotion grew in her belly; something she knew from experience could turn into paralysing fear, or hypertense readiness to act.

What will they chronicle? 'The accession of King-Caliph Gelimer was celebrated by the execution of a forsworn mercenary-'

"No!" she spat, aloud. "I'll be d.a.m.ned if I'm dying here as part of someone else's celebrations! Leofric-"

"Be quiet," Leofric grated. He smelled of sweat, now, under his fine robes.

Ash began to whisper, "A household troop, swords, glaives; one exit; one woman unarmed ..."

Before, it would have been an automatic action, after a decade; to call her voice, for help with tactics. He cannot stop me asking the Stone Golem questions, he cannot stop it answering me- Can he?

The fear-suppresed memory of the sudden silence in her head, riding among the pyramids and sphinxes outside the city, brought a chill fear in her mind. But I will speak, what other choice is left?

She bit her lip, began to speak - and stopped as Leofric spoke again.

"Very well. If you will have it so. My Lord King," the elderly lord-amir Leofric said decisively, "consider only one thing more, before you give your judgement. If you permit her to make war for you, she will not run. She has nowhere to go."

"I have given my - our - judgement!" Gelimer spoke with asperity, then a weak curiosity. "What do you mean, 'she has nowhere to go'?"

"I mean, my Lord King, that next time she cannot run back to her company. They no longer exist. They were ma.s.sacred on the field of Auxonne, three weeks ago. Dead, to a man. There is no Lion Azure company for her to run to. Ash would be - must be - faithful only to you."

Ash heard the word ma.s.sacre. For a second she could only think, confused, what does that word mean? It means 'killed'. He can't mean 'killed'. He must be using the wrong word. The word must mean something else.

In the same split second she heard G.o.dfrey's grunt of pain and realisation behind her; and she spun around to stare at 'Arif Alderic, at Fernando del Guiz, at the lord-amir Leofric.

The bearded Visigoth commander, Alderic, had his arms folded, his face giving no sign of any emotion. He was ordered to tell me nothing, is this why? But he wasn't there, on the field, he wouldn't know if this is true- Fernando only appeared bewildered.

And the startled-owl face of Leofric, pale under his pale beard, showed nothing but an undefined strain.

He is fighting for his political life, to keep his powerbase, which is the Stone Golem and the general - and me - he would say anything- The King-Caliph Gelimer said sulkily, "There has been nothing but cold here since your Christ-forgotten daughter the general went north! We will not bear with this blight, this curse! Not another one. Who knows but she might leave us frozen as the bitter north? No more, Leofric! Execute her today!"

Leofric will say anything.

A voice ripped out of her that she did not recognise, did not know she was going to hear until she found herself screaming.

"What's happened to my company?"

Her chest burned; her throat hurt. Leofric's pale face began to turn to her, Alderic's men moving at the 'arif's snapped command, Gelimer standing up again on the dais.

" What's happened to my company?"

Ash threw herself forward.

Bear-like arms wrapped around her from behind, G.o.dfrey clutching at her, his wet cheek at her cheek. Two of Theudibert's squad ripped her out of the priest's arms, mailed fists efficiently punching her in gut and kidney.

Ash grunted, doubled up, held in their grip.

The floor swam under her gaze: muddied stalks of corn, trodden across mosaics of the Boar and Her litter. Tears rolled out of her eyes, snot from her nostrils; she could only hear the noise she was making, the same noise that all men make during a beating.

"What - happened-?"

A metal-wrapped fist struck the side of her jaw. She jolted back, only supported now by the men who held her, Gaiseric, Fravitta; her knees gone rubbery. The huge features of the Green Christ swam in her vision, above her, as she fell back.

They dropped her face-down on the terracotta floor.

Ash, her hands flat against the freezing tiles, lifted her head and stared up at the lord-amir Leofric. His pale, faded eyes met hers; nothing in them but a faint condemnation.

In a moment of complete clarity, Ash thought, He could be lying. He could be saying this to persuade Gelimer to let me live. And he could be saying this to persuade Gelimer to let me live because it's true. I have no way of knowing.

I can ask. I'll make it tell me!

Through split, swollen lips, Ash spoke with an instant, precise accuracy: "The field of Auxonne, the twenty-first day of the eighth month, the unit with blue lion on a gold field, what battle casualties?"

Leofric's expression turned to one of irritation. "Gag her, n.a.z.ir."

Two soldiers tried to get hold of her head from behind. Ash let herself fall forward, limp, her body banging shoulders, elbows and knees against the tiled floor. In the few moments as they lifted her up, uselessly boneless, she violently screamed, "Auxonne, unit with a blue lion livery, what casualties?"

The voice sounded sudden and clear in her head: 'Information not available.'

"It can't be! Tell me!"

Ash felt herself supported upright, gripped between two men. Someone's hand clamped tight across her broken mouth, and tight across her nose. She sucked for air, the candle-dark hall darkening still more in her vision.

The hand clamped over her face, immovable.

Not able to breathe, not able to speak, she raged through crushed lips into the suffocating glove: "You do know, you must know! The Faris will have told you-!"

Nothing like a voice came from her throat.

Sparkles danced across her vision, blotting out the court. No voice sounded in her head. She tried to close her jaws. She felt the sc.r.a.pe of metal rings against her teeth. Copper-tasting blood choked in her throat. She coughed, gagged; the men still held her, tight, as she strained, gasping, suffocating.

I will know.

If I can't speak - I'll listen.

She let fear and futility rush through her, forced herself to be calm, to be perfectly still in the midst of bodily pain and mental agony.

She saw nothing but the pattern of veins inside her eyelids, printed on the world outside. Her lungs were fire.

She made a ferocious effort. An act of listening - no pa.s.sive thing, something violently active. She felt as though she pushed, or pulled; drew up a rope, or swung down with an axe.

I will hear. I will know.

Her mind did something. Like a broken rope, her whole self jolted; or was it a meniscus, that suddenly gave way, and let her through some barrier?

She felt a wrench, in the part of herself that she had always thought of as being shared by her voice, her saint, her guide, her soul.

A grinding roar shook the world.

The walls of the building moved.

A voice exploded through her head: 'NO!'.

The solid floor lifted up, under her feet, as if she stood again on the deck of a ship at sea.

Chapter Five.The mosaic tiles juddered under Ash's feet.

'WHO IS THIS?'.

'IT IS ONE-'

'WE PREVAIL-'

She lurched, losing her footing, dizzy; vision filled with yellow sparkles. The solid world shook. Through a roaring noise - in her mind? in the world? - many voices slammed into her head: 'BURGUNDY MUST FALL-'

'YOU ARE NOTHING-'

'YOUR SORROW, NOTHING! YOU ARE NOTHING!'.

In that second, Ash realised: Not a voice.

Not a voice - voices. Not my voice. Sweet Jesus, I am hearing more than one voice! What's happening to me?

A grating roar jerked the floor under her as a dog shakes a rat.

She got her arms out from under her entangling cloak, slammed an elbow into Theudibert's mail-clad ribs, jarring her shoulder. She clawed at the man's hand across her mouth, breaking her fingernails on the mail of his gauntlets.

'WHAT IS IT THAT SPEAKS TO US?'.

'IT IS ONE OF THE SHORT-LIVED, BOUNDED BY TIME.'.

'WE ARE NOT SO BOUNDED, SO CONSTRICTED.'.

'IS IT THE MACHINAE REI MILITARIST?'12.

'IS IT THE ONE WHO LISTENS?'.

The hand clamped over her face suddenly dropped away.

Ash dropped to her knees; sucked in a great, un.o.bstructed breath. The smell of the sea filled her nostrils and mouth: salty, fresh, terrifying.

"Who are you? What is this?" She gulped air; screamed: "What happened to my company at Auxonne?"

'AUXONNE FALLS.'.

'BURGUNDY FALLS!'.

'BURGUNDY MUST FALL.'.

'THE GOTHS SHALL ERADICATE EVERY TRACE OF IT FROM THE EARTH. WE WILL - WE MUST - MAKE BURGUNDY AS THOUGH IT HAD NEVER BEEN!'.

"Shut up!"