The Silver Horn Echoes by Michael Eging & Steve Arnold

Author:Michael Eging & Steve Arnold [Eging, Michael & Arnold, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781532020223
Publisher: iUniverse
Published: 2017-07-22T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 16

Barcelona

The sun splashed fire across the mountains, a brilliant orange against the budding green clinging to the slopes. At their ancient feet, the pennants of Charles’s northern lords waved bravely above companies and battalions spreading out from the mouth of Roncevaux in a glimmering tapestry of martial splendor. Roland rode out with his small band of companions to greet the royal party. Outriders had already alerted Charles to Roland’s approach so that even before the champion could reach the clutch of bureaucrats enclosing him, the king cantered atop his finely groomed steed to greet him. As he drew close, he leaned from his saddle and clasped Roland’s hand in his.

“It’s good to see you, nephew,” he said.

“And you,” Roland replied with a wolfish grin. “We’ve supported Barcelona already against Saragossa.”

“Very good,” Charles beamed. “Very good indeed. Bring me your report.”

By evening a light wind billowed the canvas of Charles’s campaign headquarters, tugging the canvas while attendants set the last pegs in the shadow of the mountains. Even as the final support ropes stretched taut, couriers arrived from Francia with dispatches on everything from campaign supplies to holy festivals in Aachen to the spring tax collections. From just over the pass or from far-away Rome, all roads led to Charles’s court.

Within the canvas confines, thick carpets from far-off Persia blanketed the ground, hushing the slippered feet of clerics and functionaries—though the thin walls did little to muffle the noises beyond of men settling into their campaign routines. Roland ducked into the tent to find a young page who met him with a respectful bow. The youth then led him through the gaggle of courtiers who kept the machinery of the kingdom ever grinding forward. At the far end, the page opened a flap, gesturing for the champion to enter.

Within this portion of the tent, Charles sat at a worktable. He drummed fingers stained black from signing documents on the desktop and gazed absently at the shadows of guards taking their stations outside the canvas partitions.

Roland cleared his throat and bowed.

“Oh, yes. Do come in,” Charles said, his attention snapping back.

“Something bothers you, Uncle?”

“It’s nothing,” Charles shuffled through the papers on his desk. “Nothing at all.”

“What is it?” Roland pressed. “You can tell me.”

Charles studied him for a long moment then slumped back in his chair.

“I am wondering about the truth of dreams and visions. You know, I’ve heard of such things, but until now I thought they were only the purview of holy men,” Charles whispered. “When kings have them—well, they don’t always work out so well. Look at Pharaoh who sought out Joseph. The fatted cattle were consumed most ungraciously.”

Roland grabbed a camp stool and pulled it up to the desk.

“Well, I’ve heard tell the pope anointed you emperor,” he began. “God’s servant on earth, giving you right to more than most kings. I suppose it wouldn’t be unusual for God to want you to know something.”

Charles smiled wanly at his nephew. “Yes, yes. Thank you, Roland. But I’d have told you anyway, without the reminder.

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