The Ruby Knight

agony. That’s when I made the decision to put her to rest.’
    ‘We all knew it might come to that,’ Sparhawk said gravely.
    ‘Perhaps. I could not bring myself to simply slaughter her, however. The herbs no longer quieted her. The nightshade, however, did. She stopped screaming shortly after I gave it to her.’ There were tears in Occuda’s eyes. ‘I took my sledge and broke a hole in the tower wall. Then I did as you instructed with my axe. I’ve never done anything so difficult in my life. I wrapped her body in canvas and took her outside the castle. There I burned her. After what I had done, I could not face the count. I left him a note confessing my crime and then went to a woodcutter’s village not far from the castle. I hired servants there to care for the count. Even after I told them there was no longer any danger at the castle, I had to pay them double wages to get them to agree. Then I came away from that place and joined this army. I hope the fighting starts soon. Everything in my life is over. All I want now is to die.’
    ‘You did what you had to do, Occuda.’
    ‘Perhaps, but that does not absolve me of my guilt.’
    Sparhawk made a decision at that point. ‘Come with me,’ he said.
    ‘Where are we going, My Lord?’
    ‘To see the Patriarch of Emsat.’
    ‘I could not enter the presence of a high churchman with Lady Bellina’s blood on my hands.’
    ‘Patriarch Bergsten is a Thalesian. I doubt that he’s very squeamish. We need to see the Patriarch of Emsat,’ he told his Thalesian escort. ‘Take us to his tent.’
    ‘Yes, My Lord.’
    The sentry led them through the camp to the pavilion of Patriarch Bergsten. Bergsten’s brutish face looked particularly Thalesian by candle-light. He had heavy bone ridges across his brows, and his cheek-bones and jaw were prominent. He was still wearing his mail-shirt, although he had removed his Ogre-horned helmet and stood his axe in the corner.
    ‘Your Grace,’ Sparhawk said with a bow, ‘my friend here has a problem of a spiritual nature. I wonder if you could help him?’
    ‘That is my calling, Sir Sparhawk,’ the Patriarch replied.
    ‘Thank you, Your Grace. Occuda here was at one time a monk. Then he entered the service of a count in northern Pelosia. The count’s sister became involved with an evil cult, and she began to practise rites involving human sacrifice, which gave her certain powers.’
    Bergsten’s eyes widened.
    ‘At any rate,’ Sparhawk continued, ‘when the count’s sister was finally stripped of those powers, she went mad, and her brother was forced to confine her. Occuda took care of her until he could no longer bear her agonies. Then, out of compassion, he poisoned her.’
    ‘That’s a dreadful story, Sir Sparhawk,’ Bergsten said in his deep voice.
    ‘It was a dreadful series of events,’ Sparhawk agreed. ‘Occuda feels overcome with guilt now, and he’s convinced that his soul is lost. Can you absolve him so that he can face the rest of his life?’
    The armoured Patriarch Bergsten looked thoughtfully at Occuda’s suffering face, his eyes at once shrewd and compassionate. He seemed to consider the matter for several moments, then he straightened, and his expression grew hard. ‘No, Sir Sparhawk, I can’t,’ he said flatly.
    Sparhawk was about to protest, but the Patriarch raised one thick hand. He looked at the hulking Pelosian. ‘Occuda,’ he said sternly, ‘you were once a monk?’
    ‘I was, Your Grace.’
    ‘Good. This shall be your penance then. You will resume your monk’s habit, Brother Occuda, and you will enter my service. When I have decided that you have paid for your sin, I will grant you absolution.’
    ‘Y-your Grace,’ Occuda sobbed, falling to his knees, ‘how can I ever thank you?’
    Bergsten smiled bleakly. ‘You may change your mind in time, Brother Occuda. You will find that I’m a very hard master. You’ll pay for your sin many times over before your soul is washed clean. Now, go gather your possessions. You’ll be moving in here with me.’
    ‘Yes, Your Grace.’ Occuda rose and left the tent.
    ‘If you don’t mind my saying so, Your Grace,’ Sparhawk said, ‘you are a very devious man.’
    ‘No, not really, Sir Sparhawk.’ The huge churchman smiled. ‘It’s just that I’ve had enough experience to know that the human spirit is a very complex thing. Your friend feels that he must suffer in order to expiate his sin, and if I were simply to absolve him,