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when he moved on in the morning.
As a knight he was pledged never to marry. Valdis saw women as a threat; a
rival claim on the loyalty of their knights. When the order was first founded
marriage had been allowed, but following the Fifty Years
War when nearly five thousand knights died, many of them leaving wives and
children, the powers that be decided it was best in the future to avoid the
tragedy of families left with no one to care for them. So marriage was
forbidden. What began as a device to save wives and children from starvation
eventually became a means of control. A knight was supposed to repress his
natural desires and put the energy of his passions into serving Valdis.
Tawl, like so many other knights, found he couldn't live without the comfort
of women. It seemed to him that Valdis, by disapproving of lovemaking, was in
fact condemning women. They were looked upon as faithless distractions, who
only served to dilute and divert the noble intentions of the knighthood. Tawl
had known many women in many towns, and he knew in his heart that Valdis was
wrong. Women had just the same capability for nobility as any man, and a
greater potential for love and kindness. Valdis had made a mistake by stopping
its knights from marrying; a man with a family cherishes and nurtures
humanity. And wasn't that the founding precept of the knighthood: to protect
the sanctity of human life?
Tawl drew his cloak about his chest. None of this excused his treatment of the
cloth merchant's daughter. At very least, knights were expected to exercise
self-restraint. The girl had obviously been a virgin, out more for adventure
than seduction. He knew he shouldn't have kissed her, but the worst part was
that he had been close to losing control. He had hardly known himself. If the
embrace had continued a second longer, he would have been in danger of raping
the girl. It little mattered that the girl was half-willing. She was young and
hardly knew what she wanted. Tawl turned his face to catch the chill breath of
the north wind. It was not like him to do such a thing. The girl had been too
young. It was true that she had been about the same age as Megan, but Megan
had been matured by her time on the streets and was schooled in the ways of
passion.
Megan. Tawl wondered what had become of her. He trusted that she had built
herself a better life.
Maybe she was now a seamstress or a flowergirl-with nineteen gold coins in her
purse she could afford not to work for a few yearseven in an expensive city
like Rorn. He hoped that she no longer walked the streets. The life of a
prostitute was hard and often dangerous. It robbed a girl of her youth, her
looks, and eventually her spirit. As long as she was anywhere but the streets
he would be happy.
They were free of the foothills now, the land gently sloping before them.
Fields and meadows were sprinkled with the first lowland snow of the winter.
He was worried about the boy: his cold had not gone away, his cough had
worsened, and there was a flush of fever on his brow. To Tawl it was one more
reason to get to Bevlin as fast as possible-the wiseman would be able to cure
the boy. One sip of the lacus would probably do it.
For the past few days Tawl had felt a vague tension growing within him, as if
he carried a weight upon his shoulders, bearing him down, sapping at his
spirit. He'd been short-tempered with Nabber and now the incident with the
cloth merchant's daughter. He was filled with an impatience that he could not
altogether understand. An impatience to see Bevlin. Being in the wiseman's
presence seemed to offer the possibility of relief from his burdens. Bevlin
would take him in and renew him, ready him to continue his task of finding the
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boy.
Tavalisk was at his bath. The large marble pool was being filled with warm
water and perfumed essences. Servants were busy laying out what would be
needed: fragrant oils for washing, pony hair brushes for scrubbing, linen
wraps for drying. The archbishop himself sat in a robe of cauled silk, nodding
distractedly at Gamil, who was muttering on about church policy whilst a young
girl cut Tavalisk's toe nails. Apparently, He Who Is Most Holy had called upon
his archbishops to urge leniency toward the knighthood. Leniency indeed! What
did His Holiness know of world events, perched as he was in the very grand yet
very distant city of Silbur? There was nothing he could do, he had no real
sway: religious offices were only as powerful as the man who held them. And
His Holiness had never been a great man.
"Careful with those scissors, girl," warned the archbishop, ignoring his aide
and continuing to read his copy of Marod.
"Your Eminence has remarkable feet," commented Gamil. "Completely free of corn
or bunion."
"Yes, I have, haven't I?" Tavalisk put down his book. "It comes from a life of
studied repose. One cannot expect to have such perfect feet if one walks upon
them all the time."
"Your Eminence is most fortunate to be in a position where walking is not
often required." Tavalisk looked up sharply, but could see no sign of irony
upon Gamil's face.
"The work of great men, Gamil, is done sitting. Lesser men such as yourself
make their living while standing upon their feet." Tavalisk noticed the bath
attendants were waiting in readiness. He stood up and one rushed forward to
remove his robe. Gamil discreetly looked away as the pale and fleshly body of
the archbishop was revealed.
Tavalisk slipped down the few steps and into the steaming water, his body
reddened like a cooked lobster. The water was a little hotter than he normally
preferred. Only when he was immersed up to his neck did Gamil see fit to look
upon the archbishop again. "I have penned the reply to Lord Maybor, Your
Eminence. I will have Hult bring you a copy of it later."
"Very good. It should be sent this day." Tavalisk daintily lifted his foot
onto a raised shelf and one of the attendants oiled and rinsed it.
"I have received word from Valdis, Your Eminence."
"How are they taking the expulsion of their knights?" The archbishop raised
his other foot to be cleaned.
"Tyren is most displeased. There is talk of issuing a letter of condemnation."
"A letter of condemnation! How very typical." Tavalisk was scathing. "Why I
quake with fear at the very thought of it. Tyren is playing the pious bigot
again."
"There have been riots in Toolay, Your Eminence."
"Riots, indeed. You have done well, Gamil." The archbishop looked up and
noticed a certain smugness on the face of his aide.
"It was nothing, Your Eminence, merely a few wellplaced actors; one pretended
he was a knight and burnt Toolay's flag, the other incited the passions of the
crowd."
"Burning Toolay's flag, indeed! I can see I'd better watch out, Gamil, lest
you get too clever for your own good." Tavalisk lifted a plump arm to be
washed.
"I was inspired by Your Eminence's own cunning." Gamil was now trying to
flatter his way out of a sensitive situation.
"You would do well, Gamil, never to forget just how cunning I can be." He
smiled benignly at his aide.
"So, can we expect Toolay to pass a law banning the knights in the near
future?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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