Golden Horn by Judith Tarr

Author:Judith Tarr [Tarr, Judith]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Historical, Science Fiction
ISBN: 9780593010174
Google: _e90kgEACAAJ
Goodreads: 317342
Publisher: Tor Books
Published: 1985-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

21

Cartwheels rattled on the road; cattle plodded behind and among the wagons, lowing their complaint, while sheep milled and bleated and herdsmen hemmed them in with cries and curses. Over all rang the clamor of iron on iron and iron on paving stone: the heavy destriers, each bearing an armed and armored knight.

Jehan looked back along the column. As far as he could see before trees and the road's curving concealed it, the army advanced ponderously but in good order, each knight or squire or sergeant in his place, mail-coif up and helm ready at his saddlebow. One or two caught his glance and grinned. Victory had lifted all their spirits, the town taken and plundered behind them, its booty safe here among them or sent ahead to the camp, food and drink enough to sustain the army for a full fortnight.

His red stallion fretted, sidling, threatening the bay beside it with flattened ears and bared teeth. He brought the beast sternly to order and grimaced at the bay's rider. "He hates to drag along at a walk."

"Don't we all?" Henry of Flanders eyed the trees which closed in upon the road. "I'll be glad to come out into open country again."

Jehan nodded. "I like to see where I'm going, and what's waiting for me. Though this road is better than anything I ever saw in a forest at home. Deer tracks, those were. This is a road."

"We're spoiled. All this Eastern luxury: roads and baths and spices, and silk by the furlong. Do you know, I have it on good authority that the Greeks don't heat their houses with simple fires. They put the fire in the walls or the floor and stay warm all round."

"That's the old Roman way. Furnaces and hypocausts. I saw it in House Akestas."

There was a small silence. Henry brushed dust from his helm, saying slowly, "I… heard something in one of our councils. A rumor only. Before the new Emperor seized the throne, old Isaac had his fortune told. It wasn't to his taste. The soothsayer—he was, they said, no more than a boy, but he wore the robe of a master surgeon. They… disposed of him."

"I know."

There was no expression in Jehan's voice. Nor could Henry read anything in his profile with its strong Norman arch of nose and its stubborn jaw.

After a little Jehan said, "It was Alf. Who else could stand up in front of an emperor and say what he said?"

Sudden anguish twisted Henry's face. "How could he let himself die like that? So horribly, and for so little."

"He didn't."

Jehan had spoken so quietly and so calmly that for a moment Henry did not trust his own ears. "He—"

"He's alive," Jehan said. Face and voice had come to life again; Henry saw a touch of mirth there and a touch of compassion. "Not that he isn't capable of running after his own death. But it would take a good deal more than a senile old fool to finish off the likes of him.

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