CHAPTER ONE
“I SEND YOU GRAVE TIDINGS”
Anno Domini 1205
Anno Juliani 845
Prince Zakháry and Father Athanasios rode hard throughout the rest of the day, camping overnight near the Spargö River. They started again at daybreak. Although they spotted several unidentified riders from a distance, they encountered no one except official Kórynthi patrols and organized supply trains heading north.
Late on the afternoon of that same day, the Feast of Saint John the Baptist, they finally reached the city of Borgösha. Zakháry immediately produced his credentials and took command.
Everything was filled with chaos and confusion, with men constantly coming and going; the Skopélosz Pass was clogged with troops, war materiel, and supplies. The contingent of soldiers from Arrhénë had just arrived in Borgösha on the previous day. Prince Zakháry ordered Count Sándor to deploy his brigade south and west to block any possible advance of Pommerelian soldiers from Körvö or Dharmagrigg. More supplies were sent north to aid the returning Kórynthi army, flanked by larger-than-normal patrols to safeguard their transit.
* * * *
The Archpriest Athanasios spent the night in Borgösha sleeping the sleep of the righteous. In the morning, he was given a new mount, and sent on his way to Myláßgorod. Before leaving, he met privately with Prince Zakháry.
“Father,” the prince said, coming forward to grasp his hand, “I’ve certainly enjoyed traveling with you, despite the circumstances. Bonne chance for the rest of your trip.”
“Thank you, highness,” the priest replied. “May God bless all your endeavors, now and in the future.”
The next day was the Feast of Saint Maximos. Although Athanasios started through the Skopélosz Pass shortly after sunrise, the way was so crowded that it took him all day to make the journey. The side of the road was littered with broken-down wagons, discarded baggage, and garbage left by the many travelers. The blueberry bushes and ferns that had flourished in the highland meadows when they had climbed through the pass a month earlier had now been trampled into a tangled ruin. It would take many seasons for nature to restore the beauty that had been lost here.
Not long after the dinner hour, he finally reached open country, and rode the last few miles in relative peace, at times cutting through undisturbed fields to avoid the traffic. He reached Myláßgorod at sundown.
At once he sought out Count Zygmunt and presented his credentials, plus a personal message from the hereditary prince, which he handed over immediately.
“My master orders you to stop the flow of men and supplies through the pass at once,” he added, “and to keep secret the reasons why you’re doing so until he reaches home, about a week from now. Is this understood?”
“Yes, father,” the little man replied. “I will do exactly as he says.”
“For myself, I request some water for cleansing, a new robe, and something to eat,” Athanasios added. “I’ll also require the use of your viridaurum later this evening.”
“Anything, father,” Zygmunt indicated, and clapped his hands to bring his servants nigh.
Two hours later the priest transited to Tighrishály Palace in Paltyrrha, and requested a private meeting with Princess-Regent Arrhiána. He was conducted immediately to the council chambers, where the princess was waiting.
“You look very tired, father,” she commiserated.
“I’ve been traveling for days, highness,” he acknowledged, “but I do appreciate your concern. I was sent on ahead by Prince Arkády to bring you news of the war. First, I must give you this private message from your brother.”
He handed her the missive he had drafted for his master at Saint Paulinos’s Abbey.
The princess opened the paper carefully, without breaking the wax seal, which she realized immediately had a special psychic message embedded in it. First she read the written letter:
“Dearest Sister:
“I send you grave tidings. We have met the enemy at Killingford. Both sides have suffered terrible, irreparable losses. Since we cannot continue to prosecute the war in our present state, we have decided to withdraw, carrying our wounded with us. Of the thirty thousand soldiers who started on the trek to Pommerelia, barely five thousand survive. Patriarch Avraäm, King Humfried, Prince Pankratz, Prince Ezzö, and our brother, Prince Nikolaí, are dead, and Prince Norbert is captured by the enemy. Father lives, but his mind is uneasy. We move with all possible speed towards home. I send this letter to you via my trusted servant, the Archpriest Athanasios.
“Your Brother,
“Arkadios Prinképs”
“Oh, Nicky!” was all Arrhiána was able to utter, crossing herself. “God have mercy on all of us.”
The cleric murmured a short prayer of remembrance, to which they both said “Amen.”
Then Arrhiána pressed her psai-ring into the seal. The message buried in the wax further directed the princess to keep the details of the message secret, and to assist the archpriest in locating and retrieving Princess Arizélla.
“I am also ordered, highness,” Athanasios continued, “to inform the Locum Tenens of the Holy Church of the patriarch’s passing, and to secure the Forellëan heir. Do you know where I can find the princess?”
It took Arrhiána a moment to reply. The dimensions of the Kórynthi losses were still swirling around in her head: Twenty-five thousand men! The cream of the nobility gone! Half the Holy Synod dead!
“F-father, I think she’s, uh, somewhere in Dnéprov,” the princess replied, abruptly sitting down with a thud. “I’m sorry, I just don’t know where. You’ll have to transit down there and find out.”
“I’m terribly sorry for your loss, princess-regent,” the monk ventured. “I’m particularly saddened about the death of your brother. He was a fine man and a good soldier. I admired his spirit and bravery. It’s said that he saved the hereditary prince’s life by sacrificing his own.”
“That sounds just like Nicky,” Arrhiána responded, “always venturing out before anyone else. I just....”
“I understand,” the priest said. “I’ll take my leave, now, if you please, highness. I must report forthwith to Metropolitan Timotheos.”
Arrhiána offered Athanasios her hand, which he kissed, and then he departed. She sat there for half an hour, looking out the window and crying to herself. She would never see her dear brother Nikolaí again on this fair earth.