The War Hound and The World

Chapter VIII

As WE RODE out of Ammendorf my bitterness against a Deity who could consign such as Sedenko so easily to Hell continued to grow. There seemed no justice in the world at all, no possibility of creating justice, no being to whom one could appeal. Why should I be concerned about redemption in such a world? What would I escape, if I escaped Hell?

Sedenko had earlier attempted to interrupt my broodings, but for some while had said hardly a word, cheerfully accepting my silence and respecting my reluctance to answer his very ordinary questions. The day grew colder as night came nearer, yet I made no preparations for camp. I was tired. Ammendorfs good wine and food were sustaining me against weather and lack of sleep, and I told myself that Sedenko was young enough to lose another night's rest. Only the condition of the horses concerned me, but, they seemed fresh enough, for we did not push them hard. Movement was all that I desired. We passed through rocky hills and over snowy moorland, through woods and across streams, heading steadily towards the high peaks and Hermit Pass.

As night fell, I dismounted, leading my horse. Sedenko did not question me, but followed my example.

It had been some years since I had lost my Faith, save in my own capacity to survive a world at War, but evidently in the back of my mind there had always been some sense that through God one might find salvation. Now, as I journeyed in quest of the Holy Grail (or something identified as the Holy Grail), I not only questioned the possibility that salvation existed; I questioned whether God's salvation was worth the earning. Again I began to see the struggle between God and Lucifer as nothing more than a squabble between petty princelings over who should possess power in a tiny, unimportant territory. The fate of the tenants of that territory did not much seem to matter to them; and even the rewards of those tenantsХ loyalty seemed thin enough to me. For my own part, I believed that I deserved any fate, no matter how cruel, for I had used my intelligence in the service of my self-deceit. The same could not be said of Sedenko, who was merely a child of his tunes and his circumstances. I had received positive proof of the existence of God and the Devil and my Faith in them was weaker now than it had ever been.

My cloak would not keep out the bite of winter's night. I heard my teeth chattering in my skull. My heart seemed as if it were turning to ice. Even Sedenko was shivering, and he was used to far worse cold than this.

We were climbing higher into the foothills of the mountains. Their peaks were now tall enough to block off half the sky and the snow became deeper and deeper until it threatened to spill over into our boots. Towards dawn I began to realise that if we did not have heat and food soon we should probably perish, whereupon we should both go straight to Hell. The prospect reminded me of the reason I had accepted Lucifer's bargain.

Although it was difficult to see through the murk, I selected a place where an outcrop of rock had left the ground relatively clear of deep snow and told Sedenko to prepare a fire.

As he gathered wood, the dawn began to come up, red and cold. I watched him while he moved about in the nearby spinney below, bending and straightening, shaking snow from the sticks he found, and for some reason was reminded of the parable of Abraham and his son. Why should one serve a God who demanded such insane loyalty, who demanded that one deny the very humanity He was said to have created?

I watched as Sedenko prepared the fire for us and selected food from our bag of provisions. He seemed cheerful merely to be in my company. He was excited, expecting great and interesting adventures. If he died on the morrow, he would probably look wonderingly at Hell itself and find it interesting.

And then it came to me that perhaps Lucifer had lied to me, that He had lied to all who served Him. Perhaps none of us were damned at all, but could somehow wrest our destinies free of His influence as He had attempted to wrest His own destiny free of God's. Why should we be controlled by such beings?

And the answer came to me, as it always did when I followed that logic: because they can destroy us at will.

I could almost sympathise with those the Wildgrave had warned me against; those who saw me as aiding in Lucifer's betrayal of His own creatures. They had seen Lucifer as representing if nothing else a defiance of an unjust God. A pact between God and Lucifer would find them without protection, sacrificed because Lucifer had found it expedient to change His mind.

But would God let Lucifer change His mind? Even Lucifer had no clue to that. And I, if I succeeded in discovering the Cure for the World's Pain, might not be finding a remedy at all. What if, when it was put to the lips of mankind, the Holy Grail was discovered to contain a deadly poison? Perhaps, after all, the only Cure for pain was the absolute oblivion of death, without Heaven or Hell.

My heavy sighs caused Sedenko to look up from where he was warming his hands against the fire. "What did the priest tell you, master? You have been distressed ever since you met him."

I shook my head. It had not been the priest, of course, who had disturbed me. And I could not explain to Sedenko that I knew him destined for Hell, that the God he claimed to serve had rejected him and had not even given him a sign of that rejection.

"Did he refuse you grace?" Sedenko continued.

"My state of mind has little to do with my encounter in the church," I said. "I received information from the priest. He has told me where I might look for a certain hermit, that is all."

"And you still do not know the purpose of your journey?"

"I know it, I think, as well as I ever shall. Make us our breakfast, young Kazak. And sing us one of those sonorous songs of yours, if you can."

I was asleep before he had begun to cook anything and it was noon before I woke up again. Simmering on the well-made fire was some soup. Sedenko himself had taken the opportunity to rest and was wrapped in his blankets a short distance from me. I ate the soup and cleaned the pan before waking him.

The mountains were taller than anything I had ever seen before. They were jagged and steep and the snow had frozen on them so that they glittered like crystal hi the heavy winter sun. Everywhere was whiteness: the purity of Fimbulvinter, of the Death of the World. A few streams continued to run through the snow, which proved to me that it could not be as cold as it seemed. I had grown used to the warmth of spring, I suppose, and it was taking my body tune to adjust. Sedenko seemed much easier with the elements than was I.

"A man can understand snow," he said. He told me that in his language there were a considerable number of words for different kinds of snow. "Snow can kill," he continued, as he packed our things back onto our horses, "but you also learn how to stop it from killing you. Or at least how to improve your chances. It is not so, captain, with men."

I smiled at this piece of philosophy. "True."

"Men will tell you what to do to avoid their killing you. You do it. They kill you anyway, eh?"

"Oh, very true, Sedenko." I consoled myself that this innocent would at least be good company in Hell, were we permitted to remain together. And I did not add that what he observed in Man, I observed the more sharply in God and His Fallen Angel. He would not have wanted to believe me. I did not wish to believe myself.

The smell of the snow was good in my nostrils now and I began to sense that peculiar elation which comes when you have lost all Hope of anything, save another hour or two of life. At one point, displaying considerable risk to my horse, I galloped for a short distance through the snow, sending it flying about me. Sedenko yelled and cheered and let his pony race, swinging his body from side to side of the beast with extraordinary agility, at one point leaping, apparently with a single movement, to stand on his saddle and balance there like an acrobat, arms outstretched.

He had boasted that the Kazak was the finest rider in the world and I must say that I could not dispute the fact, if his fellows rode as he rode. His ebullience infected me. I tried to push from my mind all thoughts of Good and Evil, of the War in Heaven, and did my best to sense again the pleasures of the scenery, while Sedenko gradually subsided, like a happy puppy, and eventually drew up beside me, panting and grinning.

That evening Sedenko again built a fire while I checked the map. We were high into the hills now and the mountains seemed to press in on us. There was the plain far behind us, but even this was obscured by the hills. Hermit Pass was not more than five miles to the northwest. We should be there, if we met no obstacles, by the middle of the next morning.

I wondered how this pass might be defended and what kind of danger, from what source, lay ahead of us. But I said nothing to Sedenko.

We reached the first range of mountains just before noon and the entrance to the pass was easily discovered. We had tied rags around our horses' feet. The rocky ground was patched with ice, so that it was better to walk our mounts whenever we could. The peaks of the mountains were invisible now. It seemed that we approached an infinitely tall wall of glittering crystal, white and pale blue, or grey where the rock was exposed. I continued to marvel at the height and shape of them; they were characteristic of nothing I had seen before.

The pass was a dark gash, seemingly in the side of a cliff. It was only as we drew nearer to it that we saw it lay between the mountains, turning sharply inwards so that it was not possible to see very far ahead. The snow was thinner here, but the tee thicker. We should have to move very carefully.

Without ado we stepped forward. The winter sun no longer fell on us and so the temperature dropped immediately, and we wrapped ourselves more thickly in our cloaks. The sound of our footfalls echoed in the canyon and we heard the rushing of water somewhere to one side of us, the drip of half-melted ice, the creaking and shifting noise of uncertain snow. Even as we moved some snow fell from overhanging rock and struck our heads and shoulders.

Sedenko looked upwards towards the crack of light far above us. "It's almost a cave," he said in some awe. "A monstrous huge tunnel, captain. Will it lead us into Hell?"

"I sincerely hope that it will not," I replied. I had a better idea of the implication of his words than did he.

We spoke quietly, as if we knew that too much noise could dislodge rock, ice and snow which would bury us within seconds. We turned the bend into deeper darkness. Every tiny noise from around us had significance, for it could herald a landslide. I realised that I was scarcely breathing and that I could hear my heartbeats in my ears.

Gradually the pass widened a little until the gap above admitted more light. The snow was deeper and wetter, but the ground was not so icy where the rays of the sun had fallen and we were able to relax into a more normal form of procedure. A few more bends and it had widened again until it was almost a narrow valley. Some bushes and small trees grew here and every so often I detected a patch of green. The noise of the ice and snow grew fainter and assumed less significance to us. After an hour or so into the pass, feeling somewhat more relaxed, we decided to rest and eat some of the bread and pickled herring we had purchased in Ammendorf.

It was as we cleared snow from a flat rock that I heard a scuffling sound and then what I was certain was a human gasp. I paused and listened, but heard nothing else like it. However, I removed my pistols from their holsters and placed them beside me on the rock as I ate.

Sedenko had not heard the sound, but he knew that something was alerting me and he watched my face, listening as he ate.

Another sound. Loose rock and snow fell towards us from our right. I put down my bread and picked up both pistols, levelling them in the general direction of the disturbance.

"Be warned!" I called. "And display yourself, so that we may parley."

A girl of about fifteen, thin-faced, freezing, wrapped in a miscellany of rags, shuffled from the other side of a rock. Her eyes were wide with fear, hunger and curiosity.

I did not lower my pistol. I had become wary of children in my profession. I levelled one of the barrels all the more firmly at her face.

"Are there more of you?"

She shook her head.

"Is your village near here?"

Again a shake of the head.

"Then what in the name of God and Saint Sophia are you doing here?" asked Sedenko of a sudden, slamming his sabre back into its scabbard and marching towards her. I felt he was incautious, but I did not warn him. He went up to her and looked at her face, taking it in his big hands. "You're quite pretty. What's your story, girl? Was your party waylaid by brigands? Are you the sole survivor? Are you lost?"

A sudden thought. He took a step backwards.

"Or are you a witch? A shape-changer?" He looked up at the far rocks. He looked behind him. He spoke over his shoulder to me. "What do you think, captain? Could she be tricking us?"

"Easily," I said. "But then I have assumed that since we saw her."

Another pace backwards. And another, until he was almost presenting his spine to my left-hand pistol. He was staring hard at her. He spoke very quietly to me now. "A witch, then?"

"A wretched girl, most likely, who has been abandoned in these mountains. No more and no less."

She pointed behind her. "My master…"

"There!" said Sedenko triumphantly. "A wizard she serves."

"Who is your master, girl?" said I.

"A holy man, excellency." She dipped a curtsey of sorts.

"A magus!" said Sedenko in an urgent whisper to me.

"One of the hermits who dwell in this pass, is he?" I asked.

"He is, Your Honour."

"She's no more than a hermit's companion," I told Sedenko. "You've seen such children before, surely?"

Sedenko rubbed at his lower lip with the joint of his thumb. He looked sideways at the girl. But he was almost convinced by my reasoning.

"And where's your master?" I asked her.

"Above, sir. And dying. We have had no food. He has been injured for many, many days. Since before the snow." She pointed.

Now I could see the shadow of a cave in the rock. There were several such caves here and there, which was no doubt why they were favoured by hermits. As well as providing the kind of living accommodation hermits seemed to find most satisfactory, they were also close to the pass and travellers could be prevailed upon to offer food, money or any other form of aid.

"How long have you been with your hermit?" I asked her. I decided to replace the pistols in their holsters. It was obvious to me that she was not lying. Sedenko, however, was not so certain now.

"Since I was a little girl, sir. He has looted after me from the time when my brother, my mother and my father were all killed. By the eagles, sir."

"Well, then," I said, "lead us to the dying hermit." Sedenko had a thought: "Could this be your Groot, captain?"

"I think not. But he could know of Groot. Most of these hermits tend to be rivals, in my experience."

We clambered up the snowy rocks in the wake of the girl until the cave was reached. A dreadful stench came out of it, but again I was familiar with the kind of stink surrounding such holy creatures and braved it readily, with a hand over my mouth.

The girl pointed into a corner. Something stirred there. Sedenko remained outside, complaining. I made no attempt to force him to follow me.

A gaunt face raised itself a little and dark eyes stared into mine. If the smell and the sight were sickening, the worst was the smile I was offered by the hermit. It was radiant with insane piety. It offered itself as an example, it accused, it forgave all at once. I had seen such smiles before. More than once I had killed the ones who had presented them to me. I had once argued that a smile of that kind upon the lips was worth a second smile in the throat.

"Greetings, holy hermit," I said. "Your servant tells us that you are ailing."

"She exaggerates, sir. I have a wound or two, that is all. But what are my wounds compared to the wounds of our own dear Christ, whom we all wish to follow and to imitate? Those wounds take me closer to Heaven, in more than one sense." "Ah, and they smell of Heaven already, do they not?" I replied. "I am Ulrich von Bek and I am upon a Quest for the Holy Grail."

I knew that this would have an effect. He fell back, almost resentfully. "The Grail? The Grail? Ah, sir, but the Grail would cure me!"

"And all others who are dying or He sick," I said. "However, I have not yet found it."

"Are you close to your Quest's end?" he asked.

"I do not know." I stepped closer. "I will get you something to eat. Sedenko!" I called back to my companion. "Food for this pair."

Sedenko with a certain reluctance scrambled back the way we had come.

"I am honoured to be in the company of one so holy," said the hermit.

"But you are quite as holy as I," I said.

"No, sir, you are far holier than myself. It stands to reason. How you must have suffered to have attained your present state of grace!"

"Oh, no, Sir Hermit, I am sure that your sufferings outstrip mine a hundredfold."

"I cannot believe that. But look!" He held up an arm. There was movement in the arm which was not muscle or bone. I peered hard at it.

"What must I see?" I asked.

"My friends, Sir Knight. The creatures I love more than I love myself."

The main stink, I now realised, was coming from the arm he displayed. And as my eyes grew accustomed to the gloom I could see that his limb writhed with maggots. They were feeding off him. He smiled at them, much as he had smiled at me. He doubtless regarded them with more affection than he felt for any human being. After all, these were actively aiding him in his martyrdom.

I am a man used to disguising my disgust, but it took a considerable effort of will not to turn away from that madman there and then.

"Such pious suffering is outstanding," I said. I straightened and looked towards the cave-mouth, yearning for the clean air and the snow.

"You are very kind, Sir Knight." With a sigh he fell back into the general filth.

The thought of putting food into the mouth of this wretch so that he might feed his maggots was obnoxious to me, but the unwitting child deserved to eat. Sedenko reappeared and I went towards him, taking the bread he gave me and handing it to the girl. She immediately broke off the largest piece and took it to her master. As she crumbled the bread and placed it between his lips he chewed with a kind of eager control, the saliva running down his grimy chin and into his beard.

For a moment or two I stepped outside, barely able to quell my nausea.

Sedenko murmured: "That girl is wasted here. The old beast will be dead in a few more days at the most."

I agreed with him. "When he has finished eating I'll ask him what he knows of Groot, then we'll be on our way."

"There are holy men of his kind in many parts of my country," Sedenko said, "thinking that dirt and humiliation of the flesh bring them closer to God. But what can God want with them?"

"Perhaps He desires that we should all follow this hermit's example. Perhaps it satisfies God to see His Creations denying all the virtues they believe He has instilled?"

Sedenko muttered at me: "Heresy, captain. Or close enough." He did not like my tone, which I am sure contained more than a little mockery. I was hi a darkly embittered mood.

I moved back into the cave. "Tell me, Sir Hermit, if you have heard of one of your kind. A certain Philander Groot."

"Of course I have heard of Groot. He dwells in the Valley of the Golden Cloud on the other side of these mountains. But he is not a holy man, though he may claim to be. Why, I have heard that he even denies God. He does not mortify his flesh. He is said to bathe very frequently, at least ten times in the year. His clothing…" The creature began to cough. "Well, suffice to say that he is not of our persuasion, though I am sure," added the hermit with some effort, "that he has his reasons for choosing his particular path and it is not for us to say who is wrong or who is right." Again that smite of exquisite and self-congratulatory piety.

"He has no maggots, I take it," said I.

"Not one," said the hermit. "So far as I know, Sir Knight. But I could be condemning him without cause. I have only heard of Philander Groot. There were once many other hermits living in these caves. I am the last. But they used to tell me of Groot."

"Thank you," I said with as much courtesy as I could muster. I looked from the hermit to the girl. "And what will become of your protЋgЋ when you finally attain Heaven, Sir Hermit?"

He smiled upon her. "She will be rewarded."

"You think she will survive this winter?"

The hermit frowned. "Probably not, of course, if I do not. She will rise up to Heaven with me, perhaps. She is, after all, yet a virgin."

"Her virginity will be sufficient passport?"

"That and the fact that she has served me so loyally all these years. I have taught her everything I know. When she came to me she was ignorant. But I have taught her of Sin and of Paradise. I have taught her of the Fall of Lucifer and how our parents were driven out of Eden. I have taught her of the Ten Commandments. I have told her of Christ's birth, suffering, death and resurrection and I have taught her of the Day of Judgement. For a woman, she has been blessed with more than is usual, you will agree."

"Indeed," I said, "she is a singularly fortunate young person. What else do you think she will inherit from you?"

"I have nothing," he said proudly, "but what you see."

"Shall you leave her your maggots?"

For the first time, now, he caught my irony. He frowned, lost for an answer.

I grew impatient with him. "Well, Sir Hermit, what's your answer?"

"You jest with me," he said. "I cannot believe…"

"I think it is time you received your reward," I told him, and I drew my sword. "It is not just that you should wait any longer."

The girl gasped. She ran forward, guessing my intention. I pushed her back with my free hand, shouting out for Sedenko's assistance. I advanced upon the hermit.

Sedenko appeared beside me, grinning. Plainly, he approved of my intention. He seized the girl in both arms and bore her from the cave as I raised my blade.

"Go with my friend, girl. There is no need for you to witness this."

"Kill me, too," she said.

"That would be unseemly," said I. "Should you die, too, it would be a veritable surfeit of sacrifice. I doubt if God Himself could contemplate so much at once. But if you wish to sacrifice something, do not make it your soul. I am sure that Sedenko here can think of some pleasurable alternative."

She had begun to sob as I turned my back on them and looked down on the holy man. He showed no fear.

He said: "You must do what you have to, brother. It is God's work."

"What?" I said. "Shall you and I take no responsibility at all for your murder?"

"It is God's work," he repeated.

I smiled. "Lucifer's my Master." I found his heart with my steel and began to push slowly. "And I suspect that He is yours, also."

The hermit died with only the smallest groan. I walked out of the cave. Sedenko was already carrying the girl down. He was grinning at her and saying something in his own language.

That night, while I tried to sleep, Sedenko took his pleasure with the girl. She became noisy at one point, but then grew quiet. In the morning she was gone.

"I think she will try to get to Ammendorf," he said.

I was not in a talkative mood.

For the next few days we travelled through the mountains while Sedenko sang all his songs several times over and I contemplated the mysteries of an existence I had come increasingly to consider arbitrary at best.