Stephen Lawhead - The Bone House

“Still, you are here now.” The king turned away suddenly and called, “Pacha! Bring wine and sweetmeats! We must welcome our guest.”

He turned back and, taking Arthur by the arm, led him to the couch. “I was made aware of your coming,” he said, taking his place beside his guest. “Just this morning I received an omen foretelling your arrival. I did not know it would be you, of course-only that I would receive a foreign visitor before day’s end.” Turms smiled. “And here you are.”

“Indeed, I am,” said Arthur. “And I could not be happier.”

“I will have a house prepared for you-a new one this time-”

“The old one will be more than satisfactory,” said Arthur quickly. “If it is available?”

“No, no, I will not hear it. That house is too far away. I want you close by so that distance will not impede our lessons.”

“Your generosity, O King, is as wide as your wisdom,” said Arthur, bowing his head in assent. “But you may change your mind when I tell you that I did not come alone this time.” He leaned forward. “I have a wife.”

“You are married!”

“I am.”

“But where is she?”

“Still aboard the ship-”

“What!” exclaimed Turms. “You keep her waiting like a bundle of cargo on the deck of a stinking ship? What a thoughtless, uncaring husband you are!”

“Please, Turms, I meant no disrespect to either yourself or my dear wife. In truth, I was uncertain of my reception.”

“I hope you know you can trust our friendship,” said Turms. “My regard for you has never altered.”

“It was not you or your friendship I doubted,” replied Arthur. “Believe me, that thought never entered my mind.”

“But?”

“I wanted to see how things stood here.”

“Ah!” Turms nodded with appreciation. “Very wise. Yes, I remember now-at the time of your last leaving the Latins were threatening our borders. You might have returned to a very different place than you last visited.” He made a laudatory gesture in the air with his hand. “I commend your caution.”

Pacha approached, leading a servant bearing a bronze tray with silver goblets and a delicate glass jar of pale, amber-coloured liquid. There were bowls of honeyed almonds as well. The servant placed the tray on a three-legged stand and backed away as the Master of the House poured the wine, sipped from the goblet, then handed it to the king. He repeated the process for the king’s guest, then retreated quietly.

“I am glad to see that all appears peaceful now. The realm prospers under your reign.”

“For now, yes. The bellicose Latins have been tamed, or at least discouraged. The prime instigators have been caught, judged, and either executed or exiled. The Umbrians-an altogether more reasonable tribe-have taken over administration of Ruma city. At present, you have no need to fear becoming ensnared in a battle between warring nations. Peace, that ever-fragile flower, blossoms in profusion across the land.”

“Since that is the way of things,” said Arthur, rising once more, “I will inform my wife. She will be most heartily glad to leave the confines of the ship.” Arthur’s manner became grave. “Xian-Li is the reason I have come. My wife is with child, you see-”

A glance at his visitor’s face told Turms that all was not well. “What should be a joyous occasion has been clouded for you in some way. I can see it. What has happened?”

“Xian-Li has had a troubled time,” replied Arthur simply. “I have come to you for advice. I have told her of the skill of Etrurian physicians, and she is most eager to meet you. I will go fetch her now.”

“You will do no such thing, my friend,” said the king. “I will send Pacha to the ship with my bearers and they will bring her in my chair.” He raised his hand and summoned his servant. “Arthur’s wife is waiting aboard the ship in the harbour. Take my chair to her at once-but see the bearers employ the utmost care. The lady is with child.”

“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.”

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.