This love is like a curse (23)
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When the young crown prince and his retinue entered the vast domain of the Mordavin monastery, hundreds of townspeople strewed the road with flower petals. Gareth raised his hand as if in greeting, and the crowd's cheers grew even louder. Although this ritual was repeated day after day, he never became bored with it. The prince stuck out his chin proudly and confidently drove his horse forward.
When they passed the cramped streets crowded with people, a spacious courtyard and a majestic temple opened before them. The prince stopped the knights at a building that resembled a chapel.
“Thank you, Your Highness, for such a long journey,” a moment later a man in dazzling white monastic robes came out to him.
Gareth, without getting off his horse, examined him carefully. Before him stood a man with a face as sharp as an arrowhead and snow-white hair that shimmered blue. Within a moment it became clear: this young monk was not a person at all. His skin was unnaturally pale, and the tips of his ears were pointed. Half-elf, maybe even quarter-elf.
This was not surprising. In the northeastern lands of the former kingdom of Osiria, half-breeds with an admixture of elf or dwarf blood were often found [1].
Suppressing his instinctive aversion to other races, Gareth asked the question in an authoritative tone:
—Are you the abbot of this monastery?
- Yes, your highness. “I am Vasilis, and I am entrusted with managing this monastery,” he answered, smiling softly. — Welcome to Mordavin.
“This land is the site of the first victory of my ancestor, the great Emperor Darian, over the northerners. Here he received a divine revelation calling for the unification of the disparate kingdoms. I'm truly glad to be here.
Jumping off his horse, Gareth continued in the arrogant manner inherent in the aristocracy:
“According to the ancient tradition of the imperial house, I wish to receive a blessing in the name of the saints, so that God’s grace will descend on me and my sister.
“I will gladly fulfill your will,” the abbot bowed respectfully and added with caution: “Let me invite you to rest today in my personal chambers.” We have prepared a sumptuous feast in honor of your arrival.
Gareth hesitated for a moment.
According to custom, they should have stayed in pilgrim cells. Living in the abbot's house could be perceived as political bribery.
Gareth glanced sideways at Longboat, who stood behind him like a shadow. He, as if not wanting to attract attention, half hid his face under a spacious hood.
Longboat, leisurely examining the monastery, finally nodded slightly.
- Do as you see fit, your highness.
- Fine. Then today we will stay in the abbot's chambers.
The servants, who were preparing for the meeting, immediately began to harmoniously descend the steps to escort the guests. Gareth handed them the reins and turned to Longboat:
- Take care of Isla. This is the first time she is so far from home - everything is new and unusual for her.
The longboat, who had previously been stroking the horse's neck, nodded slightly.
Gareth winced with displeasure. He wished he had shown as much care for his sister as he did for his horse.
Grumbling to himself, he followed the monks, but suddenly his gaze fell on a luxurious carriage standing in the far corner of the courtyard.
He frowned, staring at the curtained window. Either she suddenly decided to save her strength, or she finally realized her place, but Talia Roem Girta never left the carriage from the beginning of the journey. He was ready to wring her neck at the slightest infraction, but her unexpected submission seemed almost a mockery.
“It would be better to continue to sit quietly...”
But no. This is Talia Roem Girta. The woman who came with them from the very beginning with unclean intentions. Who knows where and when she will start another scandal?
Continuing to glare at the carriage, Gareth turned angrily to Longkas:
- And one more thing. Tell this creature: let him continue to sit quietly, like a mouse. So that not even her shadow could be seen.
Longboat's eyes narrowed slightly. Apparently, he was not happy that the prince was so openly demonstrating hostility towards his half-sister. He even, I recall, once made a remark that the prince should watch his words, if only for the sake of reputation.
Gareth just snorted contemptuously and turned around sharply. After all, who in the empire doesn’t know that the crown prince dreams of tearing his father’s bastard to pieces?
He lifted his chin and followed the monks into the huge residence behind the temple.
The abbot's house was in no way inferior in luxury to the residences at the palace. The thought that at least he would spend this night in comfort made him grin with satisfaction. Gareth stepped inside, following the monks into the spacious hall.
The abbot of the monastery led him to the most luxurious room of the residence. Gareth looked around the rather spacious bedroom with an appraising glance - apparently, it was usually used by the abbot himself: the walls were decorated with paintings depicting the Holy War, and prayer books and theological works lay on the table.
The decorations were not to his taste, but otherwise the room was quite worthy of approval. Taking off his cloak, saturated with the smell of horses, he carelessly threw it on the floor and gave orders to the servants waiting at the door:
“First I want to wash the body.” Prepare a font for me, such that I can stretch my legs, and fill it to the brim with clean water.
When the servants had dispersed, he sat down on a chair by the window and motioned to the squires who followed him. Without words, they immediately began to remove his armor.
Gareth, completely trusting their hands, took the goblet from the table. One of the prompt servants immediately filled it with wine. He leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his chilled drink. The thick liquid flowed down the throat, filling the mouth with a rich aroma.
Savoring the tart taste that remained on his tongue, he quietly moaned with pleasure. Looks like it will be a worthy feast. The wine prepared in the monastery was quite consistent with the tastes of a person accustomed to the rarest drinks.
“Things are going well at the holy monastery, apparently,” with a wry smile he looked out the window, at the spacious grounds of the monastery. Higher clergy often lived no worse than noble nobles. The abbot of this monastery was clearly no exception and led an equally luxurious life.
Having thrown off his heavy armor and sweat-soaked clothes, Gareth happily plunged into the water that the monks had prepared in advance. The servants immediately began to rub his body with soft brushes. He leaned his head back on the edge of the font and, leisurely sipping the remaining wine, relaxed.
How long he lay there is unclear, but after an exhausting horse ride that lasted half a day, his body gradually came to its senses. He came out of the font, put on the summer jacket he had prepared, and, putting on modest velvet robes, followed the monks.
“Dinner is served in the hall on the floor below,” said the monk, carefully descending the marble staircase covered with a soft carpet, and carrying a lamp.
Gareth just nodded indifferently. A ruler must say as little as possible - he knew this too well. Silence was sometimes more powerful than any words. Especially when there was a person nearby who was himself the embodiment of silence.
At the entrance to the hall, he immediately noticed Longboat, standing as if waiting for him. Gareth frowned.
Every time he saw this man, a strange irritation arose in him. Although Barkas never contradicted him, there was something repulsive about this man. Maybe because of his unusual aura? Or is it that he almost never showed his true feelings?
He had been watching him since childhood, but Longboat had always remained something alien to him, something to be feared. And this made it even more alarming.
Can you really trust this person with half of your soul?
-Where is Isla?
“Her Highness is resting in the cells for priestesses,” replied Longkas. — I was tired and decided not to attend the feast.
“After several days of hiking, this is not surprising.
“I ordered a tonic potion to be prepared for her.” No worries.
Gareth winced in displeasure at his dry answer. He knew that this man treated his sister much more gently than the others.
Despite his age and status, Longboat Raedgo Siekan was surprisingly gentle with women. He so coolly rejected attempts at rapprochement that even Gareth felt uncomfortable. However, he showed special attention to Ayla, and this was already a consolation for him.
However, Barkas's indifference irritated him. How can you be so arrogant, having received the most valuable treasure of the empire, and not show an ounce of gratitude?
He said sharply, almost reproachfully:
- Ayla is your bride. Shouldn't you be more cordial towards her?
Note:
1. Dwarves (dwarves) are a short and stocky fantasy folk known for their strength, stubbornness, and skill at blacksmithing. They usually live in the mountains or underground and are famous as skilled artisans and warriors. In Russian translations the variant “gnomes” is sometimes found, but this is a mistake. Gnomes in European mythology are a type of fairy; stupid small (one or two palms tall) spirits living in fields or gardens. For example, in one of the parts of Harry Potter, a garden gnome was used as a decoration for the Christmas tree.