Blaze of Silver (11 page)

He jumped as Kamil pressed his arm. “You have not,” the young man said. “Now, we must also send for a ship to meet us down on the French coast.”

“Yes,” Amal answered, relieved, “there will be no difficulty. The ports are full of Saracen brothers. I will send ahead for what we need.”

But Kamil was still unhappy. “I don't know, Amal. Can we really be sure Will and Ellie will be safe?”

Amal's voice came back, thinner this time. “You must not worry. I know this is not easy. The trouble is that you have been so long among the Christians your loyalty is divided.”

The barb stung. “My loyalties are not divided,” Kamil said at once, “but I am not a barbarian, who lies and steals without scruple. I know what I must do. But I also know what I must not do.” He lit a candle and Amal could see the skin over Kamil's cheekbones drawn tightly enough to tear. It was then that the old Saracen realized just how effective the Old Man's punishment was.

When Marissa was fit to be propped up, the nuns made a sickroom in the visitors' lodgings. Then Will went in to sit with her, with Agnes, a gentle woman glad to have news of Abbot Hugh, as a chaperone. Marissa was very frail. No longer weeping, she seemed smaller, somehow, as if she were crumbling away from the inside. She refused to see Ellie and frequently declared to both Will and the prioress that she refused to take the habit. Will did not know how to answer but the prioress was quite
ready. “Men have died to get you here, my sister,” she said serenely, with Agnes nodding in the background. “God must want you very much.” She took no notice whatsoever of either Marissa's tears or her curses.

By the Feast of All Saints, Marissa was on her feet again and Will knew there was no reason to delay their journey any longer. Hosanna was now fully recovered and Richard would be getting impatient. He dreaded telling Marissa and left breaking the news until the evening before their departure, when he took her to Hosanna's stable, chivvied Elric out, and hung up a lantern. The horse's coat reflected dappled burgundy. To give himself something to do, Will began to brush Hosanna's shoulder with long, sweeping strokes. “We are leaving in the morning,” he said. He could think of no way to dress up this news so that it would be less bald. He braced himself.

However, Marissa said nothing, only pressed her palms against Hosanna's star.

Will went on nervously. “We have to get the ransom to Germany as soon as we can.” Marissa still said nothing. Will stopped brushing. Nerves were hopeless. He must be bold. “What is it you really want, Marissa?” he asked her, then added quickly, “and don't say me, because as I've told you a million times, that's impossible. I know I said there was no going back, but do you want to go home? Perhaps, if Marie marries Hal, you could go and live with them.”

He began brushing again so that he did not have to look directly at her. She made him feel horrible and he couldn't understand why, since he knew he didn't love her except as he supposed he might have loved a sister,
had he ever had one. Marissa made him wait but she answered in the end. “I don't want to go with them,” she said shortly, “and if I go back to Hartslove, I'll turn into Old Nurse.”

“I think that most unlikely,” said Will, trying to lighten things.

Marissa began to plait Hosanna's forelock. The horse pricked his ears toward her but shifted away so that she dropped his forelock and started on his mane. The strength of the long, smooth hair as she neatly divided it up and wound it around her fingers made her unexpectedly honest. “I'm just a misfit, Will,” she said at last. “I don't really belong anywhere. Even if I had lands, or even if you were to give me a dowry, I still don't want to marry any of the people who might want to marry me. You know the truth, Will, even if you don't like it. If I can't marry you, I don't want anybody else. That's how this whole convent thing began. It seemed the only option—and it meant I could be with you at least a little longer.”

Will leaned against Hosanna's flank. “You make me feel so guilty,” he said, “and that's not how I want to remember you, Marissa. When you're not goading Elric or being contrary, you're as strong and brave as”—he was going to say Ellie but just stopped himself, and although Marissa knew, she did not want to bark at him now so she let it pass—“as the best of us.” Will began to brush again and was suddenly quite sure what he should say. “God needs people like you in places like this, you know. I know I said you wouldn't make a good nun when we were at home, but you could, if you wanted to, and although ordinary nuns may not count
for much, abbesses do.” He looked directly at her now although he never stopped brushing. “It would make me very proud to think of you as an abbess, running a convent and frightening the bishop.” He smiled uncertainly and Marissa smiled wanly back.

“I would like to count,” she whispered, “it's just that I don't feel called by God.”

“Perhaps the prioress is right and that will come,” said Will slowly. “It might, Marissa, if you let it.”

Marissa's smile disappeared. “I don't want it to,” she spoke loudly. “I want to choose what I do, Will, not just settle for something to make
you
feel better. It's—” she stopped. “What's this?” She peered at Hosanna's neck. “Elric should take more care,” she said sharply. “He has nicked Hosanna with a knife.” She pushed Hosanna's head around so that the nick caught the light. Then she gave a small exclamation. “How strange! Look, Will. It's the same shape as the scar between my ribs.”

Will peered closely. “Are you sure?”

Marissa nodded. “I'm quite sure,” she said. “It's that triangle shape, the shape of Kamil's knife. Does Elric have a knife like that, too?”

“No,” said Will slowly, “he doesn't.” He let Hosanna's mane drop. Outside, the air was suddenly full of the bells for Vespers. The sound disturbed the bats and as one darted down, Marissa seized Will's hand, the scar forgotten. “If I refuse to stay here, will God punish you to punish me, Will? I couldn't live with myself if that happened.”

Will did not try to shake his hand free. Instead, he took Marissa's other one. “Of course not,” he said
firmly. “God's supposed to love us, not just to look for ways to make us pay if we do things he doesn't like.”

“But we do pay, don't we?” Marissa was more fearful than Will had ever seen her.

And he could not answer her question. “Look, Marissa, if you hate it, when the ransom is delivered you can leave,” was all he could say. “God won't mind.”

Marissa gave a small sigh, which Will found harder to bear than anything. “Ah, Will,” she breathed, bending her head, “I did not have you down as a torturer. The only way to enter an abbey properly is to close the door behind you.” She disengaged her hands, said something to Hosanna, then slipped out, leaving Will feeling unexpectedly bereft.

The admission ceremony took place early the next morning. It was very short and simple. Marissa stood quite still as Will handed over the gold he had brought as her convent dowry. He had been generous but when he looked at Marissa's face, his generosity seemed coarse and unfeeling, as if he were thanking the abbey for taking something unpleasant off his hands.

The girl stood like a lonely flower at the edge of the sanctuary. She did not join in the prayers offered up on her behalf, only kept her mind on the one last thing she had to do. And she knew just how to do it. As the prioress approached to lead her into the cloister, Marissa turned. Will and Ellie held their breath. Was she going to run out, screaming, at this late stage? But Marissa neither ran nor screamed. Making no noise, she walked swiftly to Kamil and plucked the knife that had nearly killed her out of his belt. She held it up high and it's reflection caught the white of her throat. An inarticulate
cry escaped from deep within Will's breast. Marissa looked him straight in the eye, then grasped her corn-colored plait, pulled it out behind her, and hacked it off. It was a moment of such violent despair that Will almost doubled up with the shock. Marissa herself remained proudly upstanding and dropped her plait at his feet. It was only as it fell to the floor, stray strands floating free, that tears began to flow and they were not Marissa's, they were Ellie's. The familiar weight of her own auburn braid suddenly felt like a burden of guilt.
I should have done more for Marissa
, she wept,
I should have done more. I could have spoken up for her
. Ellie moved forward, wanting Marissa to see that she did care. It was what Marissa's mother would have done, Ellie was sure. But it was too late. Marissa neatly evaded Ellie; wordlessly handed Kamil back his knife; and, following a porter carrying the small chest that comprised all her worldly belongings, gave one small, almost imperceptible shake of her head, and was gone.

For hours Will and Ellie could not stop seeing and re-seeing that little head shake. It dug into their hearts like a needle no matter how many times they told themselves that Marissa would, eventually, be content. Surely she must be. “Even somebody as stubborn as Marissa can't be unhappy all her life,” Ellie kept saying, and was angry when Elric said he was glad to see her go. “That's not the kind of thing any squire of mine should even think,” Will told him, backing Ellie up. Elric began to argue but Will's face silenced him.

As Will oversaw the silver, stores, and horses being reloaded onto the barges, he almost asked Kamil about the triangular nick in Hosanna's neck, but Kamil was deep in conversation with Amal. Will watched them for some time. His discomfort at not being able to understand what they were saying was now acute, yet eventually he moved on without interrupting. Perhaps Amal would leave once they got to the imperial court. He hoped so. He had reason to be grateful to the old man but he didn't like him. Will found Hal instead and showed him the mark, and Hal asked Elric. Elric
thought it was an insect sting. He had noticed it only after they had left the ship. Hal clicked his tongue. “You should have said something, Elric. That's a groom's job.” Elric looked crestfallen even though Will made light of it. “Hal's right,” he said, “but still, it's probably nothing.” Yet he wondered, and wondered more when Shihab picked up a stone in the corner of her hoof as she fooled about and Kamil expertly extricated the stone with his knife. The shape of it, which Will had hardly noticed before, now sent a chill through him.

Early in the morning of the Feast of St. Vitalis, the barges sailed toward the emperor's Rhine border. Although he disguised it well, Kamil became agitated and pressed Amal more and more often for information about the soldiers who were to help him take the silver. Where were they? How many would there be? The whole scheme now seemed harebrained and when Ellie smiled at him and told him she was going to take Shihab off the barge for some exercise, and would he like to bring Sacramanta, Kamil felt dirty and dishonorable. Even the red horse seemed to look at him in a different way. Hosanna knew. Kamil was sure of it. Amal's whispered words began to chafe his nerves unbearably. What must be done should be done quickly. What was the delay?

A mile before the actual border, Will ordered the barges to stop and pull into the bank. Heavy rain was making visibility poor and the river treacherous. “We don't want to lose the silver at this last moment,” he told the men as, amid a few protests, he made them roll the wagons off onto dry land and posted a large guard. He was angry with the mutterers. “Look, tomorrow the
silver will no longer be our responsibility and most of you will be going back to Hartslove,” he said. “You will all be rewarded.” There was a small cheer and Ellie's heart gave a great thump. So here they were. Soon she and Will would see the king.

It was before dawn the following morning when they heard the unmistakable thumping and jingling that denoted many men riding in armor and full of purpose up the road toward the river. The Hartslove archers formed a protective barrier and Will was immediately on his guard. They were not at the border quite yet. Ordering the archers to kneel and prepare their bows and his soldiers to set their lances, he told Ellie to stay behind, then called for Kamil and Hal to flank him. The advancing soldiers were soon in sight and clearly wearing the colors of the Holy Roman Emperor. Still, Will did not relax. The emperor was impatient. Will had been told quite clearly that he would be in charge up to the border and they were not at the border yet. He strained his eyes for evidence of a trick but the banner displayed the imperial two-headed eagle, and when a trumpeter in a surcoat of the emperor's household came to a halt in front of Will and presented him with a rolled parchment bearing the emperor's seal, although Will could not read what was written he was reassured. The commander of the force, a thickset knight who rode heavily on his horse, waited courteously for Will to roll up the parchment again. Behind him, his men waited, too. Nobody spoke until Will, satisfied at last, sent Hal to order the Hartslove men to stand back for the new escort.

“My steward, who did the tally of the ransom and should count it out for the emperor, is dead,” Will told
the commander flatly. “You are welcome to count it yourself. The wagons are not yet loaded onto the barges.”

The commander nodded. He did not seem bothered. “Traveling is full of trouble,” was his only comment. Will did not recognize the man's accent but the imperial lands were broad and he could have come from anywhere. He turned around but what he saw stopped him in his tracks.

An imperial knight, clearly of some rank, was not talking to his own men or even to Kamil. He was talking to Amal and, from what Will could hear, he was speaking Arabic. Will frowned. What would an imperial knight have to say to an Arab servant? He looked for Kamil and saw him standing nearby. He could read nothing from the expression on his face. Will glanced about. The Hartslove men were chattering as they put away their weapons, only too happy to be relieved of their duties sooner than they thought. Elric was grinning from Dargent's saddle. Hal was holding Shihab. Behind them, the river ran dark. Will began to walk rapidly back, unable to control a terrible shiver running up his spine.