Century of the Soldier: The Collected Monarchies of God (Volume Two) (59 page)

"Why do you believe this enemy force in the north is no longer in the field?"

"They freed a large quantity of female captives that our troops had rounded up. I am certain that they will escort these back to the Torunnan capital. It was, I believe, only due to the presence of these captives that any of Khedive Arzamir's army escaped intact at all."

"Hammer and anvil," Aurungzeb murmured. "I like it."

"It's how he caught the Nalbeni in the Torunn battle," one of the other officers said, an older man with a scarred face.

"Who?"

"This Torunnan general, Majesty. He halted them with arquebusiers and then threw his cavalry at their flanks. Decimated them. If it worked against troops as fleet as horse-archers I'll wager it will against Torunnan infantry."

"I am glad to see we are learning lessons from the behaviour of the enemy," Arungzeb said wryly, but his brow was thunderous. "Very well. Shahr Johor, when will the army move out?"

"Within two weeks, Majesty."

"What if this vaunted general of theirs does not come out to meet us, but stands siege in Torunn? What then?"

"He will come out my Sultan. It is in his nature. It is said he lost his wife in Aekir, and it has taught him to hate us. All his strategies, even the defensive ones, are based on the tactical offensive. These scarlet-armoured cavalry of his excel in it. He will come out."

"I hope you are right. We would win a siege, no doubt of that, but then the war would drag through the summer, perhaps later. The
Minhraib
must be returned to Ostrabar in time for the harvest."

"By harvest-time, your Majesty, you shall be using the throne of Torunna as a footstool. I stake my life upon it."

"You have, Shahr Johor - believe me, you have. This is very well. I like this plan. The Torunnan army numbers no more than thirty thousand. If we can pin them down in the open and launch the
Ferinai
into their rear, I cannot see how they will survive. If Batak's magicks do not put paid to him first, I shall have this Torunnan general in a capture yoke. I will walk him to Orkhan, where he will be crucified," Aurungzeb chuckled. "Having said that, if he meets his fate upon the field of battle, I shall not be unduly displeased."

A rustle of laughter flitted about the room.

"That will do for now. You will all leave, but for Mehr Jirah and his urgent errand. Ahara, my sweet, seat yourself. Shahr Baraz, are you a complete boor? Find my Queen a chair."

The Merduk officers filed out, bowing in turn to Aurungzeb and Ahara. The door clicked shut behind them.

"Well, Mehr Jirah - what is so urgent that you must enter an indaba unannounced, and though I am not one to prate about protocol, why is my Queen at your side?"

"Forgive me, Sultan. But when something momentous occurs which impinges upon the very faith of our people and the manner of their Belief, then I deem it necessary to bring it to your attention at once."

"You intrigue - and alarm - me. Go on."

"You recall the Ramusian monk who has come to us from Torunn."

"That madman - what about him?"

"Sultan, I believe he is not mad." Mehr Jirah's face grew stern and he rose to his full height as though bracing himself. "I believe he speaks the truth."

Aurungzeb blinked. "What? What are you telling me?"

"I have been conducting researches in all our archives for the last two months, and I have had access - which you so graciously granted - to all the documents that were saved from the ecclesiastical and historical sections of the great library in Aekir. They tally with a tradition that my own
Hraib
hold to be true. In short, the Prophet Ahrimuz, blessed be his name, came to us out of the west, and it now seems certain that he was none other than the western Saint Ramusio -"

"Mehr Jirah!"

"Sultan, the Saint and the Prophet are the same person. Our religion and that of the westerners are products of one mind, worshipping the same God, and venerating the same man as His emissary."

Aurungzeb sank down upon a chair. His swarthy face had gone pale. "Mehr Jirah, you are mistaken," he barked hoarsely. "The idea is absurd."

"I wish it were, truly. This knowledge has shaken me to the very core. The little monk whom we deemed a madman is in fact a scholar of profound learning, and a man of great faith. He did not come to us out of a whim - he came to tell us the truth, and he bore with him the copy of an ancient document which confirms it, having fled with it from Charibon itself. The Ramusian Church has suppressed this knowledge for centuries, but God has seen fit to pass it on to us."

There was a pause. Finally Aurungzeb spoke, unwillingly it seemed.

"Ahara - what part have you in this?"

"I acted as interpreter for Mehr Jirah in his conversations with the monk Albrec, my lord. I am able to confirm what Mehr Jirah says."

"Do you not think, Sultan," the mullah continued, "that it is a strange twist of fate which has brought a western queen and a Ramusian scholar to you at this time? I see the Hand of God at work. His word has been corrupted and hidden for long enough. Now is the time to finally let it see the light of day."

Aurungzeb's eyes flashed. He rose, and began pacing about the room like a restlss bear. "This is all a trick - some ruse of the Ramusians to divide us and mislead us in the very hour of our final victory. My Queen - she was once a Ramusian, I can see how she was taken in, wishing to reconcile the faith of her past and the true faith which she has had the fortune to be reborn into. But you, Mehr Jirah - you are a Holy man, a man of learning and shrewdness. How can you bring yourself to believe such lies - such a blasphemous falsehood?"

"I know the truth when I hear it," Mehr Jirah retorted icily. "I am not a fool, nor yet some manner of wishful thinker. I have spent my life pondering the words of the Prophet and reviling the teachings of the western imposter-saint. Imagine my shock when I look more closely at these teachings, and find in some cases the same phrases uttered by Ramusio and Ahrimuz, blessed be his name, the same parables - even the mannerisms of the two men are the same! If this is a Ramusian trick, then it is one that was conceived centuries ago. Besides, the Ramusian texts I studied antedated the arrival of our own Prophet. Ahrimuz was there - before he ever crossed the Jafrar and taught the Merduk peoples, he was there, in Normannia, and he was a westerner. His name, my Sultan, was Ramusio."

Aurungzeb was managing to look both frightened and furious at the same time.

"Who else knows of this discovery of yours?"

"I have taken the liberty of gathering together the mullahs of several of the closest
Hraib
. They all agree with me - albeit reluctantly. Our concern now is in what manner we should disseminate this knowledge among the tribes and Sultanates."

"All ths was done without my knowledge. On whose authority -"

Mehr Jirah thumped a fist on the table, making the map of Torunna quiver. "I am not answerable to you or anyone else on this earth for my actions or the dictates of my conscience! I am answerable to God alone. We do not ask your permission to do what we know to be right, Sultan - we are merely keeping you informed. We will not sit on the truth - as the Ramusians have for the past five centuries. Their current version of their faith is a stench in the very nostrils of God. Would you genuinely have me commit the same blasphemy?"

Aurungzeb seemed to shrink. He pulled himself up a chair and sat down heavily. "This will affect the outlook of the army - you realise that. Some of the
Minhraib
are unwilling to fight as it is. If it gets out that the Ramusians are some kind of - of co-religionists, why then -"

"I prefer to think of them as brothers-in-faith," Mehr Jirah interrupted grimly. "According to the Prophet, it is a heinous crime to attack one whose beliefs are the same as one's own. Eventually, Sultan, we may have to see the Ramusians as such. They may be riven with discord, but they all revere the same Prophet as we do."

"Belief in the same God has not stopped men from killing one another - it never will. Take a close look at your brothers-in-faith, Mehr Jirah. They are busy cutting one another's throats as we speak. In Hebrion and Astarac - and even Torunna - they have been fighting civil wars incessantly, even while we hammer at their eastern frontier."

"I am not naïve, Sultan. I know the war cannot be halted in its tracks. But all I ask is that when the time comes to make peace - as it will - you keep in your mind what you have been told here."

"I will do so, Mehr Jirah. You have my word on it. When we have taken Torunn I will be merciful. There will be no sack, I assure you."

Mehr Jirah looked long and hard at his Sultan for several tense seconds, and then bowed. "I can ask no more. And now, with your permission, I will leave -"

"Are you still intent on disseminating this news among the troops, Mehr Jirah?"

"Not quite yet. There are many points of doctrine which remain to be clarified. I would ask you one favour though, my Sultan."

"Ask away."

"I would like the little Ramusian monk released into my custody. I tire of skulking round this fortress's dungeons."

"By all means, Mehr Jirah. You shall have your little maniac if you please. Tell Akran I said he was to be freed. Now you may leave me. Shahr Baraz - you also."

"Sultan, my lady -"

"Can do without her shadow for five minutes. Escort Mehr Jirah out will you? Your mistress will be with you presently."

Mehr Jirah and Shahr Baraz both bowed, and departed. Heria had risen to her feet, but Aurungzeb held up a hand. "No, please, my dear. Sit down. There is no ceremony between a sultan and his queen when they are alone together."

As she resumed her seat he padded close until he hulked above her like a hill. He was smiling. Then one hairy-knuckled hand swooped down and ripped off her veil. The fingers grasped her jaw, their pressure pursing up her lips like a rose. When Aurungzeb spoke it was in a low, soft purr, like that of a murmuring lover.

"If you ever, ever do anything like this again behind my back, I will have you sent to a field-brothel. Do you understand me, Ahara?"

She nodded dumbly.

"You are my Queen, but only because you have my son in your belly. You will be treated with respect because of him, and because of me - but that is all. Do not think that your beauty, intoxicating though it is, will ever make a fool of me. Do I make myself clear? Am I transparent enough for you?"

Again, the silent nod.

"Very good." He kissed the blood-red lips. As his hand released her face it flushed pink, save for the white finger-marks.

"You will come to my bed tonight. You may be with child, but there are ways and means around that. Now put on your veil and return to your chambers."

W
HEN
H
ERIA HAD
returned to her suite in the austere old tower, she let her maids disrobe her passively, sitting upon her dressing-stool like a sculpture. Her evening robes donned, she dismissed them all and sat alone for a long time, utterly still. At last there was a knock at the door.

"My lady," Shahr Baraz said. "Are you all right?"

She closed her eyes for a moment, and then said calmly: "Do come in, Shahr Baraz."

The old Merduk looked concerned. "His displeasure is like a gale of wind, lady - soon over, soon forgotten. Do not let it trouble you."

She smiled at that. "What do you think of Mehr Jirah's findings?"

"I am surprised no-one else has noticed such things in the five centuries Merduk and Ramusian have co-existed."

"Perhaps they have. Perhaps the knowledge was always buried again. It will not be this time, though."

"Lady, I am not sure if you wish to set us all at each other's throats, or if you are genuinely crusading for the truth. Frankly, it worries me."

"I want the war to end. Is that so bad? I want no more men killed or women raped or children orphaned. If that is treason, then I am a traitor to the very marrow of my bones."

"The Ramusians also do their share of killing," Shahr Baraz said wryly.

"Which is why the monk Albrec must be released and allowed to return to Torunn. They are sitting on this information there as they would like to do here."

"Men will always kill each other."

"I know. But they at least can stop pretending to do it in the name of God."

"There is that, I suppose. I would say this to you, though: do not push Aurungzeb too far."

"I thought he was a gale of wind."

"He is, when he is crossed in what he thinks is a small thing, but he did not become Sultan by sitting on his hands. If anything threatens the foundation of his power, he will annihilate it without regret or remorse."

"Including me."

"Including you."

"Thank you for your frankness, Shahr Baraz. It's strange - since coming to live among the Merduks I have met more honest men than I ever did in my life before. There is you, Mehr Jirah, and the monk, Albrec."

"Three men are not so many. Were folk so dishonest in Aekir then?" Shahr Baraz asked with a smile.