CHAPTER SEVEN
When the sun orb flared above the great azure rim of the sea, Charis rose and poured scented water from a ewer into the basin, splashed herself, dried, and dressed in a linen tunic of light blue. She donned white leather sandals, tied them hurriedly, grabbed two fresh figs from a bowl on the table near the door and ran down to the palace courtyard where she found the youngest of her brothers, Eoinn and Guistan, already in the courtyard supervising the loading of the wagons and the hitching of the horses.
Neither boy had a word to spare for her, their attention wholly taken with their assumed duties. She slipped among the porters and satisfied herself that her own chest had been carefully stowed, then retreated a safe distance to watch.
Stablemen arrived leading saddled mounts, and both boys fell to fighting between themselves for the best one. Kian, the oldest of Avallach’s children and already a young man, stepped in and undertook to settle the dispute between his younger siblings with typical autocratic dispassion. Maildun arrived while the others wrangled and, smiling to himself, quietly claimed the best horse for himself.
Kian was so like his father that he seemed at times merely a more youthful twin. Maildun, on the other hand, a few years younger than his older brother, did not resemble the king at all. Tall and slender as a young cypress, he was soft-spoken and kept to himself for the most part. But he could be shrewdly calculating and was given to violent rages when crossed.
After Charis came Eoinn, younger than his sister by several years, and like her he had inherited his mother’s golden hair as well as her fondness of learning and letters. His love for horses was his own, however, and if he could have discovered a way to read while on the bare back of a horse plunging ahead at full gallop, Eoinn would have considered himself the most fortunate boy alive.
Guistan, the youngest, was dark like Avallach, but had Briseis’ light-blue eyes and something of her grace. He shared none of his brother’s keenness for books and had early developed the knack of disappearing whenever studying seemed likely. He was clever with his hands and eyes; he could render anything he saw with uncanny skill, but would destroy the drawing if anyone so much as mentioned his artistic ability, let alone praised it. He took enormous pleasure goading his older brothers and playing elaborate tricks on them, even though he often paid dearly for his fun.
The four were, for Charis, necessary evils. They were male and therefore inhabited a world separate from hers. She was not ill-treated by them; as a rule, she was not noticed at all. Or, if she did happen to impress them with her presence in some way, they expressed either surprise or resentment at the intrusion. At the best of times, she was a novelty to them, an exotic pet; at worst, a bothersome nuisance.
Charis, however, quickly tired of their inbred condescension and learned to go her own way, tolerating her brothers when circumstances required, ignoring them the rest of the time, as they ignored her.
On this day, Charis was feeling particularly magnanimous. It was a special day, for at last, for the first time in a very long time something out of the dull ordinary, something exciting even, was about to happen. And nothing-not even the grossly self-involved behavior of her brothers-could dim her bright enthusiasm.
While Charis surveyed the scene with rising anticipation, Annubi appeared carrying a small, plain gopherwood box as his only baggage. She greeted him and asked, “Is that all you are taking with you?”
The seer appeared preoccupied; he smiled absently and muttered, “Oh, Charis, yes. Taking with me?”
“The box. Is that all?”
He stared at the hubbub around him in a dazed way. “Too many people, too much noise. It is happening too fast.”
“Too fast? I cannot wait to leave this boring place.”
Annubi shook his head and looked at the girl before him. “Teh, the hunger for excitement will kill us all.”
He strode off, and Charis noticed that he had chosen sturdy, thick-soled walking shoes rather than the soft leather boots of a horseman, yet his long legs were encased in riding breeches; he wore a formal red mantle rather than a riding cloak. His attire was a curious combination-as if he could not decide how or where he was going.
The king’s driver came into the palace yard with the king’s parade chariot hitched to a trio of milk-white horses. Avallach would not use it until his entrance into Poseidonis and after, When the kings paraded from the temple along the Avenue of Stars in the final council ceremonies.
Avallach arrived next, stood with hands on hips, and took in the activity before him. Charis sidled up to him and slipped her hands around his arm. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and patted her hands. “Happy, Charis?”
“Yes, Father. Very happy.”
“Good.”
He smiled briefly and turned his attention back to the loading. Kian strolled up, exchanged a few words with his father and both walked off together, leaving Charis to herself once more.
Assembling all the baggage and provisions seemed to take forever. Charis grew tired of waiting and went back into the palace. She entered the pillared vestibule and saw Annubi talking to her mother. Briseis held her hands before her as if to push something away; her head was bent as she listened to the seer. The queen nodded when Annubi finished, then, laying a hand on his arm, smiled wistfully and walked away. Annubi watched her for a moment and then followed.
Charis wondered at this exchange as she continued on her way. Ilean, the queen’s handmaid, found her a little later in the small side kitchen, sitting at a table with one of the scullions eating dates and honey cakes. “Princess Charis, it is time for leaving. I have been looking for you everywhere.”
“I grew tired of waiting and got hungry.”
“It is no wonder you are hungry,” said Ilean. “You eat little enough when given the chance. Well, come along now. They are ready for you.”
Charis got up slowly. “Remember your promise,” the scullery girl said as Charis stood, choosing a last cake to take with her. “If you should receive two presents the same”
“You may have the one I do not want-I will remember.” Charis broke the cake in half and popped one of the halves into her mouth. “Farewell.”
When Charis and Ilean reached the palace yard, the passengers were climbing into the carriages. The young princes were already mounted and riding around the yard, loudly expressing their impatience to be off. The carriage rode on four large, slender wheels; there was room for four passengers on its two wide benches. A crimson sunshade was raised on hoops over the rearmost bench, and two crimson banners, one on either side of the driver’s high seat at the front of the carriage, fluttered in the light breeze.
“We nearly left without you,” said Briseis as Charis scrambled into the seat beside her mother. A small force of mounted soldiers, the royal guard, rode into the yard, the sharp points of their long spears glittering in the midmorning sunlight. Their captain exchanged a few words with Avallach. The king mounted his horse while the soldiers ranged themselves at the head of the train, and a moment later the carriages began to roll. They passed slowly through the great archway and beyond the palace gates, and rolled out onto the causeway which joined the palace with Kellios below.
“At last,” sighed Charis, squirming in her seat to see the palace walls recede behind them. “I am finally leaving.”
King Avallach’s train of wagons and chariots rolled over stone-paved roads through the royal cify and into the dense wooded hills to the south, leaving the coastland far behind. There were many towns along the way, and at each the populace gathered to watch the royal procession pass, lining the road, waving, giving gifts. The travelers camped near a town or village-Iraklion, Parnitha, Kardis, Oenope, Xanthini, and others-where they were entertained by the local inhabitants each night until they began the gentle, rippling descent to the basin of the Coran River which formed the southern border of Avallach’s realm. The great river’s broad, fertile valley stretched from the heart of the continent to the sea, dividing Sarras from Corania. Upon crossing the river, the procession traveled through forested uplands for two more days before reaching Seithenin’s palace on the terraced hill overlooking the great harbor of Ys.