Game of Empires (The Byzantine Saga Book 1) by Richard Blake

Author:Richard Blake [Blake, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lume Books
Published: 2019-02-19T05:00:00+00:00

VI

The slight incline became steeper. They had to lean forward on horseback to avoid the low branches that hung above the path. At last, it was time to dismount and tether the horses, and to continue on foot. It was now that Rodi discovered the meaning of saddle soreness. Sat behind Miro, he’d felt a growing stiffness in his lower limbs. On foot, it was as if someone had taken a birch to him. Worse, he could barely straighten his legs.

Iron control – iron control, he said inwardly. He might as well have fallen sobbing to the ground for all it saved his dignity. Everyone else had known what was coming. The only consolation to be had was that the mockery was reasonably good-humoured. For the first time since setting out, there was actual laughter.

“Drink this,” Miro said, holding out a leather flask. It had the usual vile taste of Slavic beer, but took the edge off the pain.

Another few hundred yards, and the trees abruptly thinned, giving views of rocky heights and of deep river gorges. Rodi couldn’t imagine how they’d gone so far, so quickly, into the mountains. But there was no denying how high they’d climbed. His muscles still ached from the ride. The leather trousers he’d put on rubbed the inside of his things. But he could be glad of the cloak and also of the stiff boots Cosmas had nagged him into putting on.

The climb continued along a stony path. Twice, it seemed to end in a sheer drop down hundreds of feet to a dry river bed. Each time, the path had twisted sharp right, and the climb continued.

No one was singing now. Even the desultory conversations of earlier had trailed off into silence. There was a sound of waters falling, always out of sight, and of a low and moaning wind that chilled his hands and face.

“Feeling better?” Miro asked.

Rodi smiled. He’d not let on how shattered he felt, nor how hungry. What Cosmas had said about dinner round a campfire was beginning to crowd out all other thoughts. If the Slavs could ride and walk all day on nothing more than a few sips of beer mixed with sour milk, he’d not disgrace himself. Nor would he admit how lost he was lost in surroundings he’d never imagined, and oppressed by their vastness. Not Aquileia nor Constantinople had prepared him for anything like this.

“Don’t worry,” Miro said with a playful tap on his shoulder. “We’ll soon be there. I said nightfall. It may be just after.”

“You’ve been here before?”

His face became more guarded. “This is a meeting place for all our people. Our grandparents chose it because it’s like where they lived before they pushed across the Danube.”

Rodi took another drink from his flask. He wouldn’t be the first to mention dinner. He hoped this would be before the meeting. He chose also not to ask about the meeting itself. It was reasonable that he’d be interested. The problem was finding a question that didn’t show the force or nature of his interest.

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