Chapter Eight
THE ROAD TO THE CASTLE
I had anticipated that the Mentonese sailors would celebrate our safe arrival with another brief religious ceremony, but not so. Presumably they did not consider the voyage ended till their ship reached Angmering.
I asked Avran about this, but he could not answer. Indeed, he confessed to knowing virtually nothing either about Angmering or even the land of Mentone itself. Truly this surprised me for, though voyages to Angmering might never be permitted, I had assumed some traveller would have brought back word of that land and city to Sandastre. All Avran knew, however, was that Mentone lay somewhere beyond the forests on the west coast of Rockall, and that Angmering must surely be large and rich.
My friend's vagueness was disquieting, for it made me again aware of how rash I had been in assuming that Lyonesse would be easily found. If the Sandastrians knew so little about a nation with which they traded regularly, then their information about other realms in this sea-girt island must truly be scanty. In journeying northward, we would be adventuring indeed!
Rather to my surprise, the quay seemed deserted. In English harbours, as I knew, men were available to unload ships at any time during daylight. Here however, as Avran told me, the longshoremen finished their duties by late afternoon and would not return till morning. The Fleming, who had come on deck again, was furious about this. It meant he could not hope to reach Brevolan tomorrow-another night on this accursed ship! However, that was his problem, not ours.
At last there was movement. A group of six men were coming out from one of the buildings fronting the quay and walking along at a leisurely rate toward the ship. From their unhurried pace they were clearly officials of some sort, but their dress was not impressive--light tunics, short-sleeved and only of knee length, dyed grass-green and belted at the waist. Their feet were booted, their heads bare, and they carried no arms.
This surprised me and I said as much to Avran. He in turn seemed surprised at my reaction.
"Why should they carry weapons? Sandastre is at peace. We have little crime here--none of your Bristol dockside murders! -- and only friendly vessels are allowed into the harbour. If a criminal did come ashore from a ship, he would have to remain in the harbour area. We do not normally allow foreigners to enter Sandarro--only certain official guests and such true friends as yourself!" He smiled at me again and I felt a glow of renewed happiness.
One of the men on the quay--a burly man with a venerably grey beard--had, it seemed, glimpsed Avran's orange cloak. He spoke an order to one of the others, a younger man. That second man glanced also at the ship, then turned and ran back along the quay, to disappear from our view behind a building. I presumed he had gone to pass word that the Prince had returned, which seemed right and proper. I wondered what ceremonies would be arranged to greet Avran; they should be exciting!
The bearded man and his four associates were hurrying now. Soon a gangplank had been set between shore and ship and the bearded man and his colleagues were hastening up it.
The captain met them and offered the bearded man his clasped hands. The bearded man clasped his own hands about them, greeted the Mentonese with a gust of polite words that I neither comprehended nor properly heard, then pushed past him toward Avran, his face beaming.
"Bazatie, Avran indreslef!" were his first words. Avran had told me that "Bazatie" was the Sandastrian word of greeting and I distinguished my friend's name and title well enough. However, as they embraced and a torrent of sentences followed, I was unable to understand anything further. Avran greeted the other four men more briefly, then turned to introduce me to their bearded leader.
"Simon, this is Arn Beldevil, who is harbourmaster of Sandarro. He speaks no English, I'm afraid, but I have told him you are my good friend."
The bearded man smiled at me and held out to me his clasped hands. Mimicking the captain's response, I enclosed them in my own and returned that smile.
Indeed, Arn's was a face to smile at; strong and, though deeply wrinkled, suggesting a lifetime of contentment. His eyes were brown and gentle, yet showing both knowledge and humanity. I was not in the least surprised when Avran said: "By the way, Arn is a priest as well as being harbourmaster. You may recall my mentioning that often our priests perform other tasks also."
One of the harbourmaster's assistants shouldered Avran's bundle of bowstaves and would have taken his satchel also, had Avran permitted this. Following Avran's example I picked up my own satchel and cloak. After saying farewell and thanks to the captain--Avran, of course, speaking for me--we walked after Arn Beldevil down the gangplank onto the quay. So much had I enjoyed the last two days of the voyage that I was almost sorry to be leaving the ship!
As we walked along, the harbourmaster and Avran conversed in rapid phrases that were quite incomprehensible to me. Only the man with the bundle of bows followed us. Arn's other assistants had stayed on board, I presumed to arrange unloading and to see to whatever other formalities were required when a foreign ship entered Sandarro harbour.
This was my first landing in a foreign port and I expected everything to look new and strange. However, I was disappointed by the buildings which fronted the quay, very ordinary structures of wood or plaster-and-lathe, much like those of an English harbour town--Kingston-upon-Hull or Bristol. Outside one of them we stopped. After a further flurry of talk, we said farewell to the harbourmaster and his assistant, with a repetition of the clasped-hand shakes. Avran insisted on resuming his bundle of bows and, unaccompanied, we walked on along the quay. Between two warehouses we turned left, to follow a road up towards the outer wall of the city proper.
By then I was becoming bewildered. Surely, when the son of a ruling prince was arriving home from a long stay abroad, there should have been more fuss, more pomp and ceremony, more notice taken? Had Avran been telling me the truth about his status? Perhaps he was not really a prince! Yet, his manner... The evident excitement of Arn Beldevil on sighting him... Yes, I was altogether puzzled, even disconcerted.
Avran divined my thoughts and grinned at me. "Not quite what you expect of a prince, eh, Simon? Yet as I said, my father is not a king, just an eslef; and this is Sandastre, not England. I regret, though, that you are so disappointed!"
Abashedly I blushed and, to divert his thoughts, said: "There are no people about; I was wondering why. Surely someone lives here, by the docks?"
"Not in this area; it's all warehouses. There is a small resident population of foreign merchants and their assistants, but their houses and taverns are all at the east end, close to the Arcturus dock. The Sandarrovians who unload the ships have all returned back home long since."
The outer wall of the city and the wall enclosing the harbour area were converging before us, as we walked along. Ahead to our left was a huge tower as big as the keep of many an English castle.
"That tower guards the mouth of the Alasslan," Avran explained. "There are five main towers on this outer bailey, each manned by one of the five vardai living closest to Sandarro--Avrassavard, Beldevard, Grassavard, Stormavard and Vragaravard. Each of those vardai also maintains and patrols a long section of wall, on either side of the tower. The tower is not just a place of guard, you must understand, but also a residence for the men and women of the vard when they visit Sandarro. This is Vragar Tower, the tower of Vragaravard."
He paused, then added with a wry smile: "I came this way, rather than choosing the central or eastern gates out of the harbour area, because Grassavard watches the other two gates. I have no desire that the Grassads should learn quite yet that I've returned."
"Are the inner towers also residences and maintained by particular vardai?"
"Yes indeed. The isolated strongpoints--the twenty detached towers that crown each of the hill ridges, guarding the roads up to the castle--and the twenty towers of the inner bailey are each looked after and lived in by the members of a particular vard. Estantesec Tower--that of my own vard--is the more easterly of the two southernmost towers of the inner bailey. Only the castle itself is under the direct control of my father, the ruling prince; and not altogether, for it contains two infirmaries, a library, schools, storehouses and much else, each with a fiercely jealous administrator. To be eslef involves much diplomacy! Fortunately, my father is a strong and astute man. For my own part, I'd hate the task!"
Again Avran had startled me. That he should regard the ruling of his land so flippantly, viewing it merely as a tiresome task; in particular, that he should state how he'd hate to be ruler--I marvelled! This was indeed a different land from my own, where so many had quarrelled so long and fought so fiercely for the opportunity to rule. Yet, even here, there were the Grassads and the Ranverems, rivals of one another and each coveting the throne; or was there indeed a throne? Presumably the ruling prince sat on something, but after so many surprises I was not sure even of that!
The southwestern gate of Sandarro was before us now, arched over by stone and guarded by two stone towers. The gates themselves were massive and sheathed with burnished copper. They were ajar, but a party of soldiers stood in the gap.
These were the first Rockalese soldiers I had seen at close quarters, so I gazed at them with interest. In such heat and with war not imminent, it was not to be expected that they would be wearing mail; nor, indeed, were they. Each man was wearing a padded, thigh-length jacket like the jupon of an English soldier, but much lighter and, though apparently made of some sort of hide, dyed an azure blue. Their hose were similarly dyed, but their boots were of light brown leather and of knee length, much like those of Avran. They wore no helmets but, instead, soft hats shaped to their heads, with brims hanging forward over their foreheads and curving back over their ears and the nape of their necks. At the front of these hats and on the right breast of the jupon were medallions of silver and enamel, showing a leaping silver fish on a sea-green background. (This, as I learned later, was the emblem of Vragaravard; soldiers of other vardai bore instead, the emblem of their own vard, though all wore this uniform of blue). About the waist of each man was a brown leather belt from which depended two scabbards chased in silver. That at left contained a short dagger, that at right a sword, about one cloth-yard in length and with drooping quillans so shaped as to resemble the outspread wings of a bird.
The leader of the soldiers--the serjeant, if I might so style him--was distinguished only by the fact that the medallions he bore were ringed in scarlet. Though it was quite evident that he recognized Avran, there was nothing of obsequiousness in his greeting, only an affectionate respect--a slight inclination of the head and an offering of clasped hands, which Avran seized in his own. Of the gusty exchange of phrases that followed, once again I understood nothing; yet the friendly smiles we received from the soldiers renewed my feeling of being welcome in this land.
As we walked under the stone arch I noted a heavy portcullis overhead, ready to be dropped should danger threaten. Friendly or not, this city of Sandarro was formidably defended.
Within the gate was the green space I had glimpsed from the sea--a broad area of meadowland, bright with many flowers. Beyond rose the hill of Sandarro, studded with padin and crowned by the graceful white castle, the road ahead of us curving upward toward it. Yet my attention was taken by a sight that, to me, was much more astonishing. Rushing towards us were four horned animals that I took to be deer, and on the back of the foremost there rode a girl!
I glanced at Avran and saw that his face was radiant with joy. "It is Ilven, my sister!" he said, then called: "Bazatie, Ilven aldrenal!"
"Bazatie, Avran indrenal!" came the response; and, as her mount drew up by us, the girl slipped effortlessly from its back to the ground, to embrace Avran and pour out a torrent of words--greetings and questions, I presumed, though once again I understood nothing. Instead, I studied first the girl, then her mount.
Ilven was slim and lithe, shorter than Avran--indeed, about my own height. Her hair was of the same blazing red as his, but whereas his eyes were blue, hers were green. She was wearing a sleeveless tunic of the same shade of orange as her brother's cloak, belted about the waist and with a dagger in a silver-chased scabbard hanging at right. Her legs were bare and her feet encased in soft leather shoes. She was so vivid, in dress and in movement, and her voice so musical even when I could not comprehend her words, that I found it hard to transfer my attention away from her even for a moment.
Yet the animal she had been riding, and the others she had brought with her, deserved also of my attention. They seemed to be deer, but later I learned that they were not, for they had horns, not antlers--retained permanently, not shed and grown again annually. There were paired horns at the brow, each in the shape of a Y with symmetrically branched ends, so that each horn had four tines. In addition there were two shorter nasal horns, slim and unbranched. The animals were almost as big as horses, but their shape was slimmer than that of the cavalry and draught horses of England, perhaps more like that of the racing horses of the Saracens of which I had heard tell. Their bodies were covered with a short pelage much like that of the deer I knew, but of a pale grey colour, not brown; their breasts and bellies were white, and a narrow white stripe ran from the muzzle, up over the brow and down the centre of the neck and back to the tail. Two of the animals--the one Ilven had ridden and another--were lighter in build and bore neither bridle nor saddle; one of these was already nuzzling Avran and being caressed as Avran talked with his sister, while the other stood quietly beside Ilven. The remaining two animals were a little heavier and bore what seemed to be pack-saddles.
Suddenly I remembered that all the animals had stopped by us without instruction, the loose animals as well as the one Ilven had ridden. How had this been managed? Certainly she had not spoken to them, but had she given orders to them in some other fashion? This was indeed a day of surprises and puzzles.
However, Avran was introducing me now. "Simon my friend, this is my sister Ilven. You will be able to converse easily with her, for she speaks your language better than I; and, as you are my friend, I hope you will be her friend also."
Ilven was laughing at me--or perhaps, at her brother. "Avran, how is it that one so small could twice save your life? He must be very cunning, or you very stupid! Nevertheless, Simon, I am pleased that my brother can find someone to take care of him when I am far away. Please continue doing so whenever necessary, for I value him, you see, even if he is stupid! Simon, I greet you with pleasure and welcome you to our land!" And she held out her clasped hands to be enclosed in mine.
Though Ilven was smiling at me, there was a serious, searching quality in her gaze, an enquiry. I perceived that her request was not made only in jest. Yes, she was teasing her brother, but also she was truly anxious about him and sincerely asking me to watch over him....What shade of green were her eyes, anyway? Not a sea-green, nor yet the green of an emerald; nearer to the green of a leaf in early springtime....
I had held on to her hands too long. She was laughing at me again as she disengaged them, but then her attention shifted to her brother.
"Avran, you'll ride back, of course. Your packs can go on a sevdru". (So that was the name of these animals; I remembered now that Avran had said I would need to learn to ride them and to fight with some weapon--what was it?--oh yes, the sasayin). "However, Simon will require to ride also. He had better perch up on the other pack-saddle and you must control his mount for him."
"Yes, of course."
While Avran tied his bundle of bows, and our two satchels, to the back of one of the sevdru with rope from a pocket in the pack saddle, I walked over to the second saddled animal. It was so clearly nervous of me that, though a little doubtful of those horns, I paused to stroke and scratch its muzzle and speak to it gently, as I would have done to a restless horse. To my surprise, the animal's response was immediate; it nuzzled my face and rubbed a soft cheek against mine. When I mounted, the sevdru stood perfectly still and showed no further apprehension.
Avran and Ilven exchanged glances; clearly they were as surprised as I, though they made no comment. They sprang onto the backs of their mounts, Ilven riding astride and not side-saddle in the fashion of English ladies, and soon we were following the road up toward the castle.
At the outset it was an uneasy ride for me. To be perched on a saddle designed for packs, not humans, on the back of an animal I had never seen till only minutes before, without bridle or even saddle to hold onto, when the motion of its movement was quite unlike anything I had experienced--well, it made me feel unsafe, to say the least! Ilven was riding ahead, Avran beside me; yet it was not from them that I was soon gaining confidence, but from the sure-footedness of my mount. Or was it quite that? Whatever the reason, my own apprehensions ebbed away with remarkable speed and I began to gaze about and ahead of me with great interest.
Indeed, there was much to be seen that was remarkable. If the warehouse area had disappointed me, now I could fully savour the strangeness of this new land. Why, the very grasses of the meadows were different! Their leaves were green enough, but their stems and seed-heads were more colourful than those of English grasses, being either scarlet or as yellow as ripe corn. These, then, were some of the "flowers" I thought I had glimpsed. However, there were also true flowers in plenty, violet, red or pale blue, all of them unfamiliar to me.
Grazing among this rich pasture were many deer-like animals, heavier in build and darker in colour than the sevdru. Each had a single pair of coiled brow-horns arching upward and outward like the frame of a lyre. As I learned later, such an animal was called a hasedu and was bred, not for riding, but for milk and meat, as we in England breed cows.
The sun was low in the sky now, since the summer evening was well advanced, and we threw long shadows to our right and before us as we rode. Ahead of us was the hill of Sandarro, with its many circular houses, padin, set in rows along the ridges and in the hollows. Between them, and circling the hill, were great banks of bushes flecked with blue. As our road left the meadowland and began to ascend the hill, I saw that these were roses, for both leaves and flowers resembled those of the wild roses of England. However, they were roses of a sort new to me. The thorns were much longer and wickeder than any I had seen on any English bush while the flowers were not white or pink, but of the colour of the uniforms of the Sandastrian soldiers--a bright azure blue. Moreover, those flowers were not single but massed into clusters. These bushes, with their fierce thorns, added significantly to the defences of Sandarro; but also they contributed greatly to the beauty of that strange city.
The road upon which we were riding was made from blocks of the same white stone from which the castle was constructed. These were fitted so neatly and tightly together that no grasses or weeds had found root between them. The road surface was slightly cambered and at each side were deep gutters, lined with stone and bridged over in places by slabs to provide readier access to the surrounding meadowlands. As we began to climb the hill I noticed that, whenever the road passed between one of the high blue-rose hedges, we crossed bridges formed by larger stone slabs. Later I learned that these were pivoted, so that they could be swung backward and upright. In the event of an attack, the ditch and stone wall thus formed would bar the progress of the aggressor almost as effectively as would the formidably thorny hedges.
The hill of Sandarro was indeed like a cartwheel, with the castle as hub, the hedges forming a whole concentric series of felloes and the rock ridges serving as spokes; we were now riding up between the two southwesternmost of these. There were padin not only on both ridges but also in the hollow below us. The padin were aligned parallel to the hill's circumference, each line separated from the next, lower and outer line by a rose hedge. Each padarn was set about with lawns, flowers and flowering shrubs; the Sandastrians, it was evident, were lovers of flowers.
Quite often a sevdru was to be seen standing or lying on the lawns or among the shrubs. None was tethered. One was rolling on its back like a horse, another had been garlanded with flowers by children who were still playing nearby. Those particular children were too occupied to pay any attention to us, but some others called a greeting to Ilven and received a cheerful acknowledgement.
The padin themselves were two storeys high, with roofs that were short and steeply pitched on the outward side but much broader, with a considerably gentler pitch, on the inner side. Their walls were made from large blocks of a dark reddish-brown wood, not from stone as I had thought when observing the houses from the sea. The roofs, however, had been made from planks of a different, darker wood which, when later I examined it closely, proved to have a denser grain. Thedoors--there were always two, one on the downslope and one on the upslope side of each padarn--had been cut from massive slabs of a similar timber. There were no windows, just narrow slits at first-floor level. Though many doors stood ajar, I saw no adult Sandastrians and presumed they were inside at this hour, preparing for dinner.
As we continued riding up the road, I noticed that the padin on the ridges to our left and right were constructed, not of wood, but of a red sandstone, very similar in hue and texture to a stone I had seen used for buildings in Nottinghamshire. These stone structures were taller and more massive, a full four storeys. Oh yes, of course; we must be approaching the castle now and these must be the detached towers that crowned the ridges. We had climbed higher than I thought!
The road was soon swinging northward and the red curtain wall of the castle looming above us to our right. The gulley up which we were riding was overlooked both by the two isolated towers and by two towers of the castle walls. It would be a hazardous ascent indeed for an invading army.
Avran, who had been riding a little way behind me, caught me up in order to instruct me. "The tower over on your left, Simon--yes, that one--belongs to Dernogmavard; the Dernogmes live in the valley of the Vekringa, many miles northwest of here. The isolated tower on your right belongs to Varessavard. They're a coastal vard, sailors; as much as any Sandastrian does, they love the sea. Curious taste.... The first tower in the curtain wall is Kevess Tower. Kevessvard holds lands on our frontier with Arcturus--they're fierce fighters, they have to be!
The tower straight ahead--the one we're riding toward at the moment--is Predaren Tower. Predaravard holds lands on our northeast coast, again uncomfortably close to Arcturus. They're good friends of we Estantesecs. The tower on the further side of the gatehouse is held by Aradavard. The Aradars live in the forests of the Trantevrin Hills north of here; they're great archers, at least with our light bows! The tower beyond...."
At this point Ilven, who was riding ahead of us, turned and said: "Oh Avran, surely that's enough! Poor Simon--you're trying to stuff into him too much information, he'll never remember all those names!"
I laughed. "You're quite right, I'm afraid! Nevertheless, I do need to learn all I can. Which vard holds the gate? Your own vard--your father's soldiers?"
"Well, the five gates are under the direct control of our father--of the eslef--but each is manned by soldiers from the vardai holding the four towers about it. This gate, therefore, is held by men of Varessavard Predaravard, Aradavard and Naratravard. However Ilven is right; I mustn't overwhelm you with names. Sorry!"
"It all sounds very impressive and organized, anyway! Are any of those vardai supporters of the Grassads, or did you choose this gate to avoid the scrutiny of their friends?"
He grinned. "You're learning swiftly, Simon! You're right, these are all men from vardai we can rely on. Now, if we'd ridden in through the southern gate, the Grassads would have known about it pretty swiftly. The Denesgars are certainly their allies, nor can I place my trust in the Vesprassads, for their lands march with those of Grassavard. Yes indeed, our route was selected quite carefully! Yet in truth I suppose it hardly matters. Draklin Grassad and his cohorts will learn soon enough that I'm back, anyway; and they'll recognize soon enough that you're my friend. Consequently, I fear, they'll also consider you their enemy!"
"But Avran," broke in Ilven anxiously, "surely they would never dare to harm you here in Sandarro--either of you?"
"I don't know. I trust not, but with the Grassads can one ever be sure?"
I laughed again, though somewhat ruefully this time. "Well, we never leave perils wholly behind us, do we? And here, at least, I'm not being sought by the King. That's a step in the right direction!"
By this time the road--still climbing--had swung again, sharply to the northwest, so that the great gatehouse was directly ahead of us. Its gates, faced with burnished copper like those of the outer city wall, stood open. Though there were soldiers up on the battlements, there were none to bar our entry. Avran waved cheerfully to the soldiers above us and received an equally cheerful shouted response. We rode in between convergent walls, under another portcullis and over stone slabs bridging a deep gulf, with red stone arching over our heads.
Within was a green space of lawns, flowerbeds and many shrubs; ahead a grassy slope up which the road continued; and above and about us, the great walls of the Castle of Sandarro. In the almost horizontal illumination of the setting sun they were dazzingly white and their towering height awesome. No cloud castle, this, but a great and formidable fortress.
foreword chapters 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 (more chapters will appear in the future)
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