Odard?s voice was light:?I don?t even feel mad at hearing that bit about being a… brother, Your High… Mathilda. So I must be… dying. Look… after my family.?
This one is not a perfect man, Rudi thought. Who is? Not myself! But he?s a man indeed.
She nodded and clasped the hand in both of hers.?I will. I?ll try my best for your mother. And I?ll take your brother and sister in ward myself; they?ll always have my protection and my favor. I promise it before God.? ?Tell them… I died… well??
Then she leaned closer and kissed him, very gently, on the lips. ?You are my knight, Sir Odard Liu, valiant and true as steel, with honor as golden as your spurs.? ?I… think I am, at last.?
His eyes turned to Mary and Ritva and Rudi.?Mother… wanted you dead. Because of my… dad. I… didn?t, not ever, really. Took a while to… see it.?
Rudi leaned forward and-very lightly-touched Odard?s shoulder. ?You?ve been a true friend, brother,? he said.?I?ll miss you. For yourself, and because you?d have been a right-hand man to me. One I could trust with my back.? ?To quote… your father… this… sucks,? Odard sighed, and then a sudden effort not to cough made sweat spring out on his face.
When he spoke again, there was a gurgle to it.?I would have followed you, Rudi. And I just get my… head straightened out and I die. Shit! Good-bye to… all of you. It?s been… fun.?
He moved one hand; Mathilda helped wrap his fingers around the hilt of his sword and move it, so that he could kiss the cross made by that and the stub of blade. ?Father?? he said, weak and breathy now.?We?d better get… started. There?s… a lot to… confess.?
They all moved back, and the priest leaned forward, opening the boiled-leather box across his back, taking out a long strip of cloth, kissing it and draping it about his neck. Rudi took another step backward when he heard Odard struggle to say: ?I confess to Almighty God, to blessed Mary ever Virgin… and to you, Father, that I have sinned exceedingly-?
Some things should be private. They all turned, making a wall between their friend and the world for a long set of moments. Nobody spoke as the murmured words sounded behind them. The twins looked the most stunned; they?d known Odard as long as he had, if not so well, and had always played a half-serious game of verbal feud with him. But even Virginia had been with him for most of a year now, and a damned intense one at that. Ingolf leaned close to Rudi and said very softly: ?I never liked him all that much. But by God, he?s game.?
Rudi nodded and murmured:?I thought the same.?
The priest?s voice rang a little louder behind them: ?-Paradisi portas aperiat, et ad gaudia sempiterna perducat. Amen.?
Odard?s Amen was thready, barely perceptible. ?Benedicat te omnipotens Deus, Pater, et Filius, et Spiritus Sanctus. Amen.? ?Amen.? ?Quickly, now, my friends,? Ignatius said.?The Death Angel comes.?
Odard?s face was very pale now; the oil gleamed on his eyelids as they fluttered. The eyes moved as those he?d known best knelt around him, a greeting and farewell. After a few labored breaths he smiled; it should have looked grotesque, with the blood on his teeth, but it didn?t. His face lit, looking past them somehow. ? So… beautiful!? he said, coughed blood and died.
TheSwordoftheLady
CHAPTER TWENTY
?You are the man Abdou?? Rudi asked, leaning back in the chair.
That put his back to the window, which would make him an outline against the daylight and his face less readable, always an advantage. Mathilda sat at his right hand and Father Ignatius on the other; the seidhkona?s sprawling household had found Matti Norrheimer woman?s garb while their own was repaired and cleaned, a dark blue wool dress, head scarf and long apron of embroidered white linen and shoulder brooches of silver and jet. The pale winter light shone through the broad stretch windows and on his captive; this was an upper chamber, with a loom pushed up against the wall.
The Moor wasn?t bound, but Edain stood behind him with his bow slung and his hand on the hilt of his sword, his square face wary and grim. ?I Abdou. And I commander of fighting men, just same like you.?
The pirate captain was a tall man, as tall as Rudi himself, though more slender. Stripped of armor and outerwear he had a long robelike blue tunic embroidered at the shoulders and loose white pantaloons, both filthy and stained. There was stubble on his cheeks apart from the tuft of chin beard, and straws in his wiry hair beneath his skullcap; he smelled of sweat and dried blood and general misery, but he stood like a prince, his dark brown hawk-face calm despite the bruises and scabs. His injured right arm was in a sling. ?Why did you come to make war here?? Rudi probed. ?Because I think I win… just same like you.?
Rudi laughed; the least shadow of a smile touched the corners of the prisoner?s mouth for an instant. The clansman spoke: ?I am Rudi Mackenzie of the Clan Mackenzie; also called Artos, High King of Montival.? ?I Abdou al-Naari al-Kaolacki, lord,? the man said.?You say with English… Abdou the Moor from Kaolack.? ?You?re not all Moors?? Rudi asked, curious. ?No, lord. The peoples of north to the… Senegal River, you call it… are Moor. Beni Hassan. Many comed to south after the Change; my father be… one Moor. Comed Kaolack, comed sailor. Most there, they Wolof, Serer tribes.?
The world is so wide; its folk and their Gods and ways so many! Rudi thought. Wistfully: And one man?s life is not enough to learn them all, even if he had no other business.
The corsair?s English was understandable, as long as he spoke slowly. Besides the thick accent, Rudi thought he?d learned from someone who spoke an English dialect unlike any used in Montival; now and then it reminded him a little of the way Sam Aylward sounded. Occasionally he spoke first in a liquid, pleasant-sounding tongue that was probably his own, and then translated. ?You are well?? Rudi went on.
Again the slightest smile turned up the corners of the man?s mouth; he moved the fingers of his hand in the sling, and touched his temple with the other. ? Suma bop dey meti,? he said.?I a headache, wounds pain little bit. My father is… fighter for Emir. Myself too. Captain of the Bouel-Mogdad. Hurt not… not big new thing.? ?You were a captain,? Rudi said sternly.?You are pirates, who came here to plunder; and you were taken in arms. So your lives are forfeit, and by right of battle you and your ship and your men belong to me, who spared you and took your surrender. You are mine to deal with as I will. Is this not so, Abdou al-Naari?? ?Inshallah,? Abdou said.?All things as God wills. No God except God; Muhammed is Prophet of God. What you do to me, that is will of God too. If you kill me, I am martyr for Faith and go to Paradise, sins forgiven.?
That little speech was partly a bargaining gambit, he thought. And partly what the man actually believes.
It wasn?t that a brave man was impossible to threaten. You just had to do it carefully. ?Who spoke of killing?? he said, spreading his hands.?Have you been treated well? Do you have what you need?? ?There food and straw and blankets and fire, medicine for our hurt. Two die, maybe one more soon. Others heal; my son Ahmed heal.? He shrugged.?Inshallah. Need more water to wash, and how say, soap.? ?You shall have it. And now, why did you come here, Abdou al-Naari? This place in particular, I mean.? ?Marabout… Holy Man… say he have… how you say English… see in head thing far away.? ?A vision.? ?Yes, vision from God. Say followers of Prophet need help, Muslim like us. Also rich plunder. And worshippers of many false gods…? ?Pagans,? Mathilda said helpfully.
Abdou nodded without deigning to look at her.?Pagans, Norrheim men… fight our people, many time. Fight on sea, fight in dead cities. We teach lesson.? ?The men with the sun sign on their chests met you near here? Led by one in a red robe?? Rudi asked. ?Yes. Marabout say, them men believers in Prophet.?