The Amber Owl (Heartwood #1)

Chapter 18 Aleksis

18

Aleksis

The chapel was indeed beautiful, the roof arching high, the windows admitting light through intricate patterns in coloured glass. Aleksis could not see where the original parts of the building ended and the new parts began. Surely such work must have been carried out by the most expert craftsmen, perhaps brought in from beyond the borders of the Northlands. The Bishop’s coffers must be vast indeed. Whether this was the best use for those funds was questionable, lovely as the result was.

He’d managed to conceal his reluctance to attend a religious service. He knew how Petras worked. If he’d decided for reasons of his own that their discussion must wait, a demand for an earlier meeting would only irritate the man. Aleksis could have approached one of the more helpful monks and made a polite request. Instead, he decided to let the day flow as it might rather than cause a stir. Tomorrow would be a different matter. If Petras did not take steps to discuss whatever the mysterious concern was, he would apply some pressure, reminding the Bishop that they needed to return promptly to Dragon’s Keep. He feared Elisabeta would subject Stasya to further interrogation, this time without his own moderating presence. Bullying would either send Stasya into a shut-down silence or, worse, cause her to shout defiant words as she had to Rihard that night in Heartwood. There was only one step from that to Elisabeta calling in certain individuals who would obey even the most unsavoury of orders. She’d done so a number of times before, generally when Aleksis was absent from court. The results were always unpleasant and sometimes dire, though the Ruler herself seemed to turn a blind eye to that, and none of the other advisers was prepared to speak out, since that would be to risk her disapproval and perhaps lose a well-paid position. As for Aleksis himself, he could tell Elisabeta was becoming tired of what she saw as his interference, and that made him fear not only for folk like Stasya who got in her way, but for the very future of the Northlands. He needed to be back at court.

The service was impressive. These brethren loved spectacle. The monks sang a wordless hymn to their god, the melody rising and falling in evocative peaks and troughs, while a long procession of senior brethren made its way toward the place where a statue of the One and Only God stood gazing out across the gathered men. No sign of Petras. And no folk from the community present; this was for the monks only. And, it seemed, for official guests, though the three of them had been seated on a bench at the rear of the chapel, not among the brethren. The carven God, his wooden form painted in the same bright hues as the garments worn by the faithful, looked down on them not with the benign expression of a deity who loves and cares for his flock but with a face that seemed to Aleksis somewhat detached. It was as if this god’s mind was on other things entirely, such as the nice cup of pear wine he would enjoy when the service was finally over. Indeed, if the One and Only God resembled anyone at all, it was Bishop Petras himself, and Aleksis wondered if the sculptor had done that on purpose.

There were prayers and more prayers. Some, it seemed, required the faithful to lie flat on the floor, face down, while murmuring – or muttering – the words. Aleksis and his companions exchanged a glance the first time all those in front of them dropped abruptly from kneeling to lying prone. None of the three followed suit. Later, the brethren rose to kneel again, and one monk with an exceptionally fine singing voice rendered a chant that was a genuine pleasure to hear. Aleksis detected a second voice: that of Karolis, who was humming along very quietly. Then came a hush of expectation, and certain men rose from the ranks to walk with heads bowed to the feet of the statue.

Aleksis started in surprise when a bell rang out just behind him; he forced himself not to look over his shoulder. Once the men reached the carven God, the bell was quiet, save for a single ringing tone which seemed to signal that one man should fall to his knees. It was hard to see clearly; Aleksis suppressed the urge to stand up for a better view.

An older monk, perhaps senior in the Order, rose to his feet, about ten paces from the kneeling man. ‘How have you offended, Brother?’ he enquired in somewhat accusatory tones.

‘I have offended the One and Only God by conversing with a woman, Father.’

A sound somewhere between a gasp and a murmur rose from the congregation; when the senior monk turned to look at them, silence fell.

‘How could such a thing come to pass, Brother? Any novice of this order learns from the earliest days that discourse with females is strictly forbidden, save under exceptional circumstances. Were the circumstances exceptional? You speak at the very feet of our God. Tell nothing but the truth.’

‘I was in the settlement, Father, collecting a load of firewood with the cart. A child ran across the road ahead of me; I only just managed to halt the horse in time. The child was frightened, screaming. The mother was distraught. I got down from the cart, offered her my apologies, made sure she and the boy were unharmed before I moved on. We exchanged no more than a few words.’ A pause. ‘It would have been discourteous simply to drive on without some acknowledgement, Father.’

The silence that followed was ominous. Matiss twisted his hands together, plainly disturbed; Aleksis imagined how Stasya would act if she were witness to this. He thought of her storming forward to deliver a fiery speech about compassion and common sense. Or to tell a story that made the same point.

‘How long have you graced us with your presence at Raven’s Watch, Brother?’

‘Two years, Father.’ The voice was unsteady now.

‘Two years. And you think to instruct me in the interpretation of the God’s law? You will remain in the chapel overnight, under watch. You will remain kneeling during that time. No falling asleep; if you do, another night will be added to your penalty. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, Father.’

‘Do not transgress again, or you’ll face a far more severe punishment. Next!’

The bell rang again. Another man fell to his knees, told of how he had been exhausted and hungry after a long day’s battle drills and had eaten not only his own ration of soup and bread, but also that of a fellow Brother. This meal had been left unattended on a bench and he had thought nobody wanted it. The penalty: three days without food.

And so it continued, until all of the offenders were accounted for. Each summoned by the doleful bell; each confessing with eyes downcast to breaching some rule; each given a penalty that seemed quite out of proportion with the offence. The whole thing was deeply disturbing. As the three of them left the chapel, Matiss’s hands were clenched into fists. Aleksis struggled to maintain the impassive face of a royal adviser. Karolis seemed the least troubled. Perhaps he had known what to expect.

—

‘Picked up some information earlier,’ Matiss said as another evening came. He was reclining in the bath, to the extent that was possible for a man of his height. They’d given him first turn this time, in view of his contribution to the winning tug-of-war team. There’d been ten men on each end of the very sturdy rope; Matiss had been what was known as the anchor man for his team, the one at the far end, and in the absence of the Bishop, who had not made an appearance all day, the brethren had been almost as noisy in their appreciation as any crowd of well-muscled locals celebrating a victory at a village fair. ‘Might be useful, might not.’

‘Tell me.’ They were keeping their voices down, even in the privacy of their quarters.

‘The Bishop’s often away for a night, a couple of nights. Takes the same monk as escort every time. Nobody knows where they go.’

‘I could speculate,’ Karolis murmured. ‘But in view of the penalty for associating with a female, even for the most innocent of interchanges, I doubt I’m right.’

‘Family?’ Matiss rose from the tub, creating a minor flood on the slate floor tiles, and accepted the towel that Aleksis held out.

‘Parents deceased,’ Aleksis said. ‘No siblings that I know of. They used to live in the south, near Oak Valley.’

Matiss raised his brows but said nothing.

‘I wouldn’t trouble yourself, Matiss. He’s unlikely to be going so far, even supposing he still has connections in the area. Perhaps, after we get back to court, it may be worth investigation. Anything else?’

‘Only that some of the monks aren’t so bad,’ Karolis said. ‘Get them away from the rules and restrictions for a bit and they can be quite friendly. Though that might only mean they’re trying to worm out our secrets, I suppose. One or two of the younger ones clearly have doubts about what they’ve signed up to here, but once they’re in, it’s pretty much impossible to get out. And they do enjoy the combat practice, the drills and so on. Might be different when it’s real, and you’re watching your comrades hurt or dying. Not to speak of killing people yourself. Perhaps that’s one reason the rules are so strict here.’

‘No hints of when some kind of real combat might last have happened?’ Aleksis asked.

‘A carefully guarded secret, as you’d expect. I did visit the stables to check on our horses. Amazing place, grand in scale. Had a chat to one of the workers about the best way to get horses ready for an extended trip. He spoke about the roads to the north, up as far as the border. I didn’t ask too many questions, just let him talk. I believe the Order has a fairly new house there.’

‘Established before the current Ruler’s time, but newish, yes,’ Aleksis said. ‘Karolis, feel free to get in the bath. The sooner we all wash off the grime of the day, the sooner we can sleep. In the morning, if I don’t get called to speak to Petras, I’ll request a meeting. Maybe I’ll suggest firmly but politely that if he doesn’t talk to me I’ll consider heading home anyway. I’d like to leave by midday if the ferryman can accommodate that. Another night at the inn, then straight to Dragon’s Keep.’

‘You’re really worried.’ Karolis had stripped off and was in the bath. Soap suds almost concealed the bright auburn of his hair and beard.

‘Close your eyes,’ said Matiss, dipping a large cup in the water, then pouring the contents over his comrade’s head. ‘And one more. Aleks? What do you think she’s going to do in your absence?’

‘Perhaps nothing. But I have a bad feeling. Why send us here with such urgency if the matter in question doesn’t require a meeting even on our second day? I think we’ve been got out of the way for some reason. I hope I’m wrong.’

—

They packed the next morning as if for departure. Matiss went down to the jetty to speak to the ferryman and ensure that, if they needed it, he would take them and their horses across the lake some time close to midday. As Karolis was preparing for his bout with the monastery’s unarmed combat champion, Brother Paavo came to fetch Aleksis. The Bishop was ready for a meeting.

In the reception chamber where they had met before, Petras was enjoying a flask of wine.

‘Master Aleksis, will you join me?’ He waved a hand toward the second cup on the tray.

‘Thank you, no. I’m pleased to have the opportunity to talk with you at last. I understand the matter is of some urgency?’

‘Perhaps, perhaps. It is hard to tell. Word has reached my ears that there may be a challenge to the Ruler’s authority at the next Grand Council.’

‘A challenge. From what quarter?’

‘The north. Vidrik of the Birchlands. Odd, you might say, that such a man would act thus toward a neighbour. But …’ Petras paused for effect; it was as if he were telling a story, and Aleksis wondered how much of this was in fact truth, and how much the prelude to some different and more genuine matter. Along with most of his people Vidrik adhered to a very old faith based on gods and goddesses of earth and sky, fire and water. The people of the Birchlands were peaceable. Their festivals of faith were joyful events with music and dancing. For such a leader to threaten the authority and security of the Northlands would be odd indeed.

‘But?’ prompted Aleksis, thinking fast. He should not dismiss this out of hand. If such a threat were real, it would surely not emanate from Vidrik, but from another source entirely. One that was not difficult to guess. Aleksis waited for the answer he was almost sure would come.

‘You look surprised, Master Aleksis. You can imagine, I think, that the impetus for such a challenge comes from beyond Vidrik’s borders. A power far larger and stronger than that of the Birchlands is behind this.’

‘You speak of the Grasslands?’

‘I do. You are aware that our Order maintains a number of houses spread across both the Northlands and Southlands, some almost as substantial as Raven’s Watch. We continue to build; the numbers of our faithful constantly increase. It has long been of concern to me that we have not established a footing in the Birchlands, thanks to the superstitious nonsense Vidrik encourages among his people.’ Petras’s voice dropped to a murmur, though it was surely not possible for the guards outside the door to hear their conversation. ‘You may be aware that our most northerly establishment lies on the bank of the river Dekla, which marks the border between the Northlands and the Birchlands. Vidrik did not welcome our building activities there; a substantial settlement lies on his side of the river, directly opposite the site of our house. But he could take no action. The land on which we built was the Ruler’s to bestow. What better place for the Church of the Godly to fly its banner than there, overlooking that realm of primitive earth-worshippers? So our men built, and settled, and spread the word of the One and Only God.’

Aleksis waited. There must be a but coming.

‘The Dekla provides fine fishing; the catch helps sustain the residents of our house there, and also Vidrik’s people who live on the other shore. Both our brethren and those village folk take small boats out in season, and there is also some fishing from the banks here and there. The One and Only God ensures his faithful of sustenance.’

The river also sustains those who do not believe in this deity, Aleksis thought. This leader of men believed only what it suited him to believe. Where was the Bishop going with this?

‘Among our brethren in that house are some adventurous souls. When conditions are favourable, they take a larger craft some distance downriver. Once or twice they have put in at landing places on the other side and engaged with local folk; the bounties of the Dekla do encourage settlement close by the water. Indeed, we have at least one Birchlands man among our brethren, which has proved useful. He can guide us in understanding their speech. The tongue, you understand, is not the same as ours. Though not so very different.’

Aleksis restrained himself from tapping a foot in frustration. ‘Engaged with local folk,’ he echoed. ‘Engaged in what way?’

‘Talked. Discussed matters. Our men spoke of the faith and the opportunities it offers. There were some disagreements. Occasionally it came to blows. Nothing worthwhile is won without a fight.’

Ah. Now, at last, the man was getting to the point. ‘What were your men hoping to win, Excellency? Hearts? New recruits? A better share of the fishing? Or perhaps a new place to build?’ Aleksis managed to keep his tone to one of polite interest.

‘We are constantly in search of fresh opportunities, Master Aleksis.’ Petras cleared his throat. ‘I had word that our brethren, in their travels down the Dekla, had experienced some odd occurrences. Interference with their nets; folk observing them from concealed positions on the banks – my brethren are skilled in detecting such activity – and one attempt to halt their progress when they came close to a certain fortified settlement on the Birchlands’ side. Also whispers from some of the local people, suggesting spies from the Grasslands may already have a presence in that region. I’m aware that the Ruler can be somewhat … determined in her course forward. I have often wondered how you manage to do your job, Master Aleksis, when the lady has a tendency to make her choices without heeding the wise advice folk of greater experience can offer. Should those rumours be true, she cannot afford to ignore them. You and I know, Master Aleksis, how perilous an armed advance from that quarter would be, so close to our own border. And we know Vidrik is neither equipped nor inclined to stand against such an advance.’

‘I see.’ Aleksis’s mind was working quickly. Important not to say the wrong thing here, or he would antagonise the Bishop. If true, this was indeed a matter that should be drawn to Elisabeta’s attention. But he suspected the account was exaggerated, at the very least. What did Petras really want from him? ‘Have you raised this with Vidrik or his advisers?’

‘Hah!’ The sound was contemptuous. ‘I’d only be given a lecture on interfering in other folk’s business, I fear. Vidrik is the kind of leader who sees everyone as a friend. That is, until the moment they hold a knife to his throat. He’s gullible. Naive. He might at the most suggest I withdraw the presence of the Church of the Godly from his borders. Or attempt to extract a promise that I and my brethren will not seek to convert the people of the Birchlands to the faith. While he sits, all unawares, in the shadow of an enemy with the power to destroy not only his land, but ours as well.’

An unhelpful response flashed through Aleksis’s mind. If your faith is so powerful, why not take your mission into the Grasslands instead? Should you turn those folk to your ways, the One and Only God would surely be impressed. ‘I see,’ he said. ‘What precisely is it you want from me, Excellency, other than advice on the matter?’

The Bishop steepled his fingers, turning his gaze directly on Aleksis. One day someone would make a stone statue of the man and it would look just like this. ‘Explain the situation to the Ruler as soon as you get back to court. The information my men pick up when they are in the Birchlands cannot be sent to Lady Elisabeta in writing. Pass on to her what I have told you, and demand that she raises this at the Grand Council as a matter of urgency. A decision must be reached there, in Vidrik’s presence and before witnesses. We must prepare ourselves to stand together against the Grasslands, should the worst come about. We cannot have any dissent among the Council members.’

For a few moments, Aleksis could not wrestle his response into an acceptable form. Then, ‘My role is adviser to the Ruler,’ he said, governing his tone. ‘An adviser offers advice. He does not make demands. Certainly, I will apprise Lady Elisabeta of your concerns and the basis for them, and will pass on your suggestion that this be discussed at the Council. Of course, as a Council member you would be free to raise the issue yourself. It might be wise to let Lord Vidrik know well in advance that this is what you plan. A message to him could be carefully worded so as not to reveal sensitive information, Excellency. I’m sure you are expert at such things.’

Something that might have been a smile passed fleetingly over the stony face. ‘I want the Ruler to raise it. By calling you here now and informing you of the matter in full, I am allowing her plenty of time to think it through and offer a well-prepared plan at the Council. The threat is real, Master Aleksis. Make sure Lady Elisabeta understands that. She should be aware of our Order’s capacity to support – or to lead – her forces in any action. Or indeed, to act alone should no such cooperation be forthcoming. That, of course, is highly confidential. For the Ruler’s ears only.’ The Bishop rose from his seat while Aleksis was still trying to take this in. ‘Now, if you have no further questions, I have other business to attend to.’

Aleksis, too, had risen; one did not remain seated when the Bishop was standing. He had questions aplenty, but it would be wiser not to ask them. ‘Thank you, Excellency. And as it seems our business is concluded, my men and I will head back toward Dragon’s Keep today; I believe the ferryman is able to accommodate us. Thank you for your hospitality.’

‘Safe journey, Master Aleksis.’

It was as Aleksis stepped out of the chamber that the hallway’s narrow windows shone momentarily gold, and a few moments later came the rumble of thunder. A spring storm, come from nowhere. By the time he reached the guest quarters he could hear the heavy drumming of rain on the roof. Take the horses on the ferry in this? Hardly. Unless the storm passed quickly the paths would be a muddy nightmare and the river crossings too dangerous to attempt. They might not even get away tomorrow. Curse it!

No point in heading for the training ground. He prowled the room, his mind whirling with unsettling thoughts. Stasya. Lukas, Irina. The Ruler so caught up in her desire for amber that she seemed quite heedless of the damage she was causing along the way. Where had that come from? What had changed in Elisabeta, that so often now she seemed wilfully deaf to reason? He made himself sit down. With his head in his hands, he tried to summon his father’s voice, a voice of kindness and common sense. Keep the balance, Aleks. Keep the balance.