“It will be done, my king.” Pacha bowed and hurried away; soon his calls urging the bearers to speed could be heard echoing down the hillside.
While awaiting the arrival of Xian-Li, the two sat and talked and drank their wine, renewing old bonds of friendship, casting their memories back across the intervening years to the time when Turms had been but a lowly prince, third in line to the throne, and Arthur his student, assigned by King Velnath to teach the exotic visitor the language and customs of the Tyrrhenian people. The two young men had quickly become fast friends; and though it had been a long time since they had last seen one another, their high regard for one another had not diminished.
“You have not changed at all,” remarked Turms, regarding Arthur closely.
“Nor have you, my lord king.”
“Careful.” He wagged a scolding finger. “It is a dangerous thing to lie to a king. But, see here, for you I put off my crown. When we are together I am only Turms. We will turn back the years and be what we once were.”
“As you will,” agreed Arthur. “I would like nothing more.”
They talked about the time when they had both travelled the country as part of Arthur’s schooling. Turms’ father had seen in the young foreigner a source of knowledge he was determined to utilise. The old king had died before the summer was out—killed by a Latin assassin’s blade. Turms’ brother had ascended the throne and, in vengeance, declared war on the Latins, forcing the two young men to abandon their travels and return to Velathri where Turms, under command of his elder brother, had entered the priesthood. With the country deep in preparations for war, Arthur had made his farewells and departed with the promise to return in a year or two when peace had been restored.
“And now you are king,” said Arthur, grinning with pleasure to find his old friend in such an exalted position. “You must tell me how that came about. That is a tale I am keen to hear.”
“It is nothing,” replied Turms, fanning the air as if waving away a fly. Taking up his cup, he said, “Do you remember the last summer we were together?”
“It was in many ways the most glorious summer of my life. How could I ever forget?”
“Two keen and ardent souls without a care in the world. The days we spent in Ruma and Reate.” Turms chuckled, shaking his head at the memory. “The nights! Sabine girls are the finest in all the world, say the sages. And, from experience—limited as it may be—I can in no way disagree. I should have married one when fortune smiled.”
“It is not too late,” Arthur pointed out. “Never too late.”
Turms smiled. “Perhaps not.”
CHAPTER 4
In Which Tea and Sandwiches
Are Encountered
Giles?” Sensing that her companion was no longer with her, Wilhelmina spun around to find him on hands and knees, heaving the contents of his stomach into the soft pine matting of the pathway. She returned and knelt beside him. “Take a deep breath and relax. The worst is over.” She put her hand on his back. “That’s right—a slow, deep breath.”
He did as she instructed, and Wilhelmina felt his ribs expand and contract as the breath went in and out of his lungs. “Again,” she advised, glancing back the way they had come. “Do you think you can walk? We have to move along. Burleigh’s men may catch our trail any moment.”
Giles nodded and dragged a sleeve across his mouth.
“Good.” She put her hand under his arm and helped him to his feet. “It really does get easier with practice.” She smiled. “But you’d better brace yourself. We have two more jumps before we’re in the clear. Right now, we have to get off this ley.” She turned and started into the trees lining the path.
Giles, on wobbly legs, followed.
They walked a fair distance before Wilhelmina paused to listen. There were no sounds of a chase, so she resumed at a slower pace, allowing her queasy companion to gain a little strength. “The next ley is in the valley beyond that hill,” she told him. “It is about an hour’s trek. There is a brook in the valley, and we can get a drink before we jump.”
Giles nodded again.
“You’re not one to wear out a person’s eardrums, are you.”
“My lady?”
“I mean, you don’t talk much.”
“No, my lady.”
“Please, call me Mina.” She smiled and extended her hand to shake his. “Just Mina.”