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grass to a gently undulating ocean of pale green. To the southeast, down a wide
stretch of ocean strand, they could see that flat crinkle of the sea, green and silver
in the mist-shrouded afternoon sun. The tang of salt was in the air, the slightly
sharp scent of decaying seaweed, the odor of the castle middens with their ripe
decay.
Kelson surveyed the scence for several minutes, eyeing the blank castle walls, the
empty expanse of plain and sand dunes, bare except for the rapidly advancing
royal army. Far to the northwest, he could see the violet banners of Cardiel's
Joshuic Foot, war standards slowly giving way to spears and then to armed foot
soldiers with tall, kite-shaped shields as they came over the rise.
Closer on his left flank, Prince Nigel's crack Haldane arch-as were taking
positions at a point of vantage atop a cluster of sand dunes. The regiment's
drummers, garish in their lowland dress of green and violet stripes, were
hammering out a fast, complicated marching beat, twirling their sticks above
then- heads and shouting occasionally as they marked time with then* feet Each
archer was partnered with a foot soldier holding spear and shield, whose duty it
would be to protect the archer during a rain of enemy bowfire. All men in the
regiment wore the green and violet feather cockades of the Haldane Archers*
Corps in the front of their hard leather fighting caps.
At Kelson's back, the flower of Gwynedd's cavalry waited, knights and squires,
pages and men-at-arms pulling quickly into position behind their king. The
banners of the Lords of Horthness and Varian, Lindestark and Rhorau,
ethenar and Pelagog, floated above the heads of the royal knights leaders of the
greatest houses in Gwynedd, scions of families loyal to the Crown through all of
Gwynedd's noble history, since the inception of the Eleven Kingdoms. Morgan's
Gryphon banner could be seen off to the right, where Morgan was conferring on
some minor point of strategy. And approaching was Duncan, a squire carrying his
McLain banner of sleeping lions and roses, marked with the red label of three
points which identified him as the heir to Cassan and Kierney, now that his elder
brother Kevin was dead. Duncan wore fighting harness as he joined Kelson atop
the command rise, only a silver pectoral cross denoting his priestly calling in the
midst of McLain plaid and fighting gear. He nodded greeting to Kelson as he
drew rein, then turned to watch Morgan riding toward them. The Gryphon
banner joined sleeping lion and roses and the Gwynedd Lion, followed shortly by
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Arilan's episcopal banner of Rhemuth and Cardiel's Dhassa banner. Nigel's
crescent-charged lion was also approaching.
"Well, what think you, Morgan?" Kelson asked. He pulled off his helmet and
ruffled damp raven hair with a gloved hand. "You best know the strength of your
own seat can it be taken?"
Morgan sighed and slouched in the saddle, resting crossed forearms across the
high, tooled pommel. "I should hate to try to take it by force of arms, Sure. Any
wall can be breached, given time and the proper equipment. I would prefer to
have my city back intact, of course, but I realize that may not be possible. We
haven't much time."
Arilan cocked an eye at the lowering sun, vaguely visible through the growing
mist, then turned in his saddle to glance at Kelson. Leather creaked as he moved,
and his bishop's cope flashed fire in the weakening sunlight. He and Cardiel both
were mailed and armed beneath their bishops' robes two fighting bishops ready
to fight for the Church Militant Arilan's keen eyes sought out Kelson's in
question.
"It grows toward dark, Sire. Unless you mean to engage in night battle, we should
begin making arrangements for camp."
"No, you're right It's too late to make our move today." Kelson flicked'a fly away
from his horse's ears. "I do want to parley with them, though. There's a chance,
though only a slim one, that we can reach agreement without raising a sword."
"Little chance of that, my prince," Duncan retorted. "Not while Warm has
anything to say about it, at least. The man's possessed with this anti-Deryni
hatred. He'll take a lot of convincing."
Kelson frowned. "I know. But we have to try, at any rate. Cardiel, call the rest of
the bishops to assemble with us here in front of the lines. Morgan and Father
Duncan, I'd like you to spread the word that well be camping here tonight and
have the men start making preparations. You might also set the watches before
we try to parley. I don't want the outlying camps harassed during the night by
rebel patrols."
"Aye, my prince."
High on the rampart walls, the activities of the royal army were being watched by
other eyes. In the shelter of a merlon near the great portcullis gate, Warin de
Grey and several of his lieutenants peered from the castle wall and observed the
preparations being made. Warin's grey eyes searched the plain carefully, noting
and recording the banners of the great lords assembled there, mentally tallying
the hundreds of soldiers who appeared to be encamping on the plain below.
Warin had not the appearance one might expect in a man who had brought half
of Corwyn to its knees. He was only middling of height with close trimmed hair
and beard of a nondescript dun color. Grey was his tunic and cap, grey the cloak
he now pulled more closely around his narrow shoulders. Only the stark black of
the falcon badge blazoned on the chest of his leather tunic broke the monotony of
it all, black and white against the dull, plain grey. Steel gleamed at throat and
wrists and on greaved legs, but even that was muted, satin-bright Only the eyes
were truly outstanding about this man now known as the Lord Warin the eyes of
a mystic, a seer some said, a saint.
With those eyes, Warin could bore into a man's soul, they said; could heal in the
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manner of the ancient prophets and holy men. Out of the north this man had
come, preaching a violent end for those of Deryni blood, calling for holy war to
rid the people of the Deryni scourge which had lain too long upon the land.
Warin was appointed by God or so he believed. At any rate, his successes, the
charismatic leadership he seemed to display over his men, all appeared to point [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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