Arasham’s voice sank into a harshly conspiratorial tone ‘I tell you this, oh ye faithful, and my words are true. The voice of God has revealed to me that even now our movement is spreading through the fields and forests of the kingdoms of the north. The ordinary people there – our brothers and sisters – grow weary of the yoke of the Church and they will join our holy cause.’
‘It was Martel who told him that,’ Sparhawk muttered, ‘and if he thinks that Martel is the voice of God, then he’s even crazier than I thought.’ He rose up on tiptoe and looked over the heads of the crowd. A large pavilion stood some distance down the hill from where Arasham was preaching. It was surrounded by a palisade of stout poles. ‘Let’s work our way around this crowd,’ he suggested. ‘I think I’ve located the old man’s tent.’
Slowly they moved back until they were at the edge of the crowd. Arasham continued his rambling harangue, but his slurred words were lost in the distance and the murmuring of his followers. Sparhawk and Sephrenia slipped around the crowd towards the palisade and the dark pavilion inside it. When they were perhaps twenty paces away, Sparhawk touched Sephrenia’s arm, and they stopped. A number of armed men stood before the opening at the front of the palisade. ‘We’ll have to wait until he finishes preaching,’ Sparhawk murmured.
‘Would you like to tell me what you have in mind?’ she said. ‘I hate surprises.’
‘I’m going to see if I can get us into his tent. If that talisman of his really has any power, it might be difficult to get it away from him in the middle of this crowd.’
‘How do you propose to manage that, Sparhawk?’
‘I thought I’d try flattery’
‘Isn’t that a bit dangerous – and very obvious?’
‘Of course it’s obvious, but you have to be obvious when you’re dealing with deranged people. They don’t have the concentration to grasp subtlety.’
Arasham’s voice was rising to a shrill climax, and his followers cheered at the end of each of his mumbled pronouncements. Then he delivered his benediction, and the crowd began to break up. Surrounded by a knot of jealous disciples, the holy man began to walk slowly through the milling throng towards his tent. Sparhawk and Sephrenia moved to place themselves in his path.
‘Stand aside!’ one of the disciples commanded harshly.
‘Forgive me, exalted disciple,’ Sparhawk said loudly enough for his words to carry to the tottering old man, ‘but I bear a message from the King of Deira for holy Arasham. His Majesty sends greetings to the true head of the Elene Church.’
Sephrenia made a slightly strangled noise.
‘Holy Arasham takes no note of kings,’ the disciple sneered arrogantly ‘Now stand aside.’
‘A moment there, Ikkad,’ Arasham mumbled in a surprisingly weak voice. ‘We would hear more of this message from our brother of Deira. It may well be that this is the communication mentioned by God when last He spoke with us.’
‘Most holy Arasham,’ Sparhawk said with a deep bow, ‘His Majesty, King Obler of Deira, greets you as his brother Our king is very old, and age always brings wisdom.’
Truly,’ Arasham agreed, stroking his own long, grey beard.
‘His Majesty has long contemplated the teachings of the Blessed Eshand,’ Sparhawk continued, ‘and he has also eagerly followed your own career here in Rendor. He has regarded the activities of the Church with increasing disfavour. He has found churchmen to be hypocritical and self-serving.’
‘My very words,’ Arasham said ecstatically. ‘I have said so myself a hundred times and more.’
‘His Majesty acknowledges that you are the source and well-spring of his thought, holy Arasham.’
‘Well,’ Arasham replied, preening himself slightly
‘His Majesty believes that the time has come for a purification of the Elene Church and he further believes that you are the one who has been chosen by God to purge the Church of her sins.’
‘Did you hear my sermon tonight?’ the old man asked eagerly ‘I preached to that self-same topic’
‘Truly,’ Sparhawk said. ‘I was amazed at how closely your words coincided with those of his Majesty when he charged me with his message to you. Know, however, holy Arasham, that his Majesty intends to provide more aid to you than the mere comfort of his greetings and his respectful affection. The details of his further intentions, though, must be for your ears alone.’ He looked around suspiciously at the crowd pressing in upon them. ‘In a gathering so large as this, there may be several who are not what they seem, and if what I have to tell you should reach Chyrellos, the Church would bend all her efforts to hinder his Majesty’s design.’
Arasham tried without much success to look shrewd. ‘Your prudence becomes you, young man,’ he agreed. ‘Let us go into my pavilion so that you may more fully disclose the mind of my dear brother Obler to me.’
Pushing aside the officious disciples, Sparhawk thrust his way through their ranks to offer the support of his arm and shoulder to the elderly zealot. ‘Holy one,’ he said in a fawning tone, ‘fear not to lean upon me, for as the blessed Eshand has commanded, it is the duty of the young and strong to serve the aged and wise’
‘How truly you speak, my son.’
They passed thus through the gate of the palisade and across a stretch of sand dotted with sheep droppings.
The interior of Arasham’s pavilion was far more luxurious than might have been expected from its severe exterior A single lamp burned expensive oil in the centre, and priceless carpets covered the rude sand floor Silken fabric curtained off the rear portions of the pavilion, and from behind those curtains came the giggling of adolescent boys.
‘Please sit and take your ease,’ Arasham invited expansively, sinking down upon a cluster of silken cushions. ‘Let us take some refreshment, and then you may tell me of the intent of my dear brother Obler of Deira.’ He clapped his hands sharply together, and a doe-eyed boy emerged from behind one of the silken panels.
‘Bring us some of the fresh melon, Saboud,’ Arasham told him.
‘As you command, Most Holy ‘ The boy bowed and retired behind the silken screen.
Arasham leaned back on his cushions. ‘I am not at all surprised at the communication you have brought me concerning the growing sentiment for our cause in Deira,’ he lisped to Sparhawk. ‘Word has reached me that such feelings are not uncommon in the kingdoms of the north. Indeed, another such message has but recently arrived.’ He paused thoughtfully ‘It occurs to me -perhaps at the prompting of God Himself, who ever joins His thought with mine – that you and the other messenger may know each other.’ He turned towards a silken panel that concealed a dimly lighted part of the tent. ‘Come forth, my friend and advisor. Look upon the face of our noble visitor from Deira and tell me if you know him.’