They feared the knights no greater amount, thinking them to be men of the king who failed to share his doom by their lack of courage, even as a goat, great in its horns, will suffer any animal or man to pass by it but not another horned goat which it will challenge and test in the struggle, and never leave off but that the feebler yields. The shields of those knights told a story at odds with that, for none of the robber knights had a red snowflake on his as Sir Hring did, or a rooster of triple beaks for Sir Mikkel, a mirror split into three that Sir Taskay had, or Sir Hroar's tree over which a dolphin leapt, or any other emblem such as those knights showed, but the brigands cared nothing for that and noticed it not, to their woe.
For the Upani fought evenly against them and the knights fought unevenly. A guard and a thief tested each other with spears, neither able to overcome the other, till Sir Taskay swung his foe-cleaving sword and turned the robber's flank red. Publio Upanus, on the other side, thrust his spear through a brigand's shoulder so that he was hurt, and when a friend of that scoundrel moved to avenge the deed, Sir Mikkel struck him a blow with his mace that baffled his effort.
Everywhere the knights were, the dreadful trade of lives went in their favor, but they were few. The brigands pushed through the Upani ranks and made up their debt of lives that way. Fyodor who wed Leia Upana and had three children by her ended his life there in the dust, and Porfirio Upanus watered his family land with what he was unable to spare. They did harm to the foe, but gave less than they took.
The battle fared not so well for the brigands as they had foreseen, misled by their despite. They had wrath at their foes for not dying as they ought and hoped to win yet, and stayed in the fight for that. War is ever unsure, favoring one then another, changing victory to something worse in an hour and stealing from the rejoicing army its men and its leaders, at times right away, and other times days later or weeks from wounds that cannot be borne. Aware of that, those brigands judged their chances good, and they were right in that from what they knew. But there was passing great mischief in what they knew not.
Sir Thurbert came back then and the knights who had left with him, and though few in number, the brigands had no answer for them. Those knights attacked the rear of the foe and cut down man after man, and their chief died there, the most cunning and wicked of them. The ranks of the bandits were not able afterwards to withstand it. Those robbers broke and fled, throwing their spears back in the hope of hindering pursuit. Many died then faster than before by the arms of the Upani, who had no mind to allow the fleeing brigands to regain their bravery or meet with friends from their own band or others, either to strike back or to visit their wrongdoing on other lands.
The routed men ran headlong across the country. They knew its roots and tangles well enough not to trip, but not so well as to outpace their pursuers, much as when a ship's crew rides out a storm with skill gained from many and long voyages to ports famed for vases and linens, but is able to reach friendly quays no sooner for that. Even so did they flee deftly but find no safe harbor, and the spears of the Upani prodded their backs. For the Aequinians also knew the terrain well enough to keep pace without making ground.
But they found something before long that startled them, a place unknown to any Aequinian. The brigands, some of them, fled as far as a fence all of iron that showed in its curves and whorls scenes of hunts and war. Through it were seen straight-growing trees and flowers chosen for their colors, pleasing and bright alone but more so together. A gate was swung open and invited all who passed to think of ease in that pleasing garden, but the brigands halted before it. They were not minded to enter and hold the gate against the foe, but instead they staggered, ceased their flight, and begged the wondering Upani for mercy. At the word of Valerio it was granted, who had lived through the battle though his left arm hung in no happy way. He demanded this of his prisoners, that they tell him every detail of that estate, for he knew nothing of it, who had it built and planted, or when the building was done. Nor did he alone wish to hear of it, for every man there deemed it strange and worthy of wonder.
Desirous that their conquerors should hew to the path of mercy, a man among the prisoners said, “What you see is the Garden Iniquitous. It has these traits. You deem it simple to enter because you see the gate open for you. Doubtless its master has deserted it. But you are mistaken to think so. Look a little that way and see another gate. The other way as well. There is one more past that, four in all. A man alone who walks in will fail and walk out again though he swears he went straight. Two men who pass through will have the like happen. Three or more may enter, though they ought not if there is any joy for them in life. They will never leave. Many of us entered the Garden after it was made, thinking to use it as a base for our daring. And we lost them for that. As for the master, do you find him and seize his revenues if you can. The thing was too much for us.”
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That was the tale of the brigands, wondrous to hear. Valerio was minded to send word of it to Juliano his brother, and he forbade that any of his men should test what they had heard. The knights, however, were in a venturesome mood, and denied only Sir Micah a chance at it, who had already added to his name by the matter of the rabrab and the saena.
Neither was that knight grieved at it, who gave this advice in words of cheer. “We know of this Garden Iniquitous for this one reason, that Sir Hring gave us the victory. What need is there for us to change our leader, like men who move from ship to ship in a busy port, unsure which will take them where they desire to go, and as a result never move from where they are?” So Sir Micah said. The knights listened and agreed it was right that Sir Hring have the choice to try the Garden Iniquitous himself and with three such fellows as he liked to have with him, or else give leave for another four to challenge it.
He answered them this. “I thank you knights for your courtesy, as much as I thank you for your courage and skill which won us the fight, whatever may be thought about my plan. As for the choice, it were hard had I to judge the four best knights among all our number, but the matter before us is of another sort. Four knights must go, masterful as a group rather than singly, and from no city but Krystila are there four of us come. More than that, we have fought together and trained for all their lives if not mine, for Mikkel was my squire, and Hroar is my son, and Taskay the son of a man who was not my brother but was had he been born close by. In truth he traveled to Krystila from a far-off land whose name none about the sea or ocean know, unless it be the Simasoon I hear is wiser than any. He left it at the behest of his lord, who was dead, to fulfill a duty not to be said aloud. After that we fought together and traveled much, gaining skill in arms and other arts. Mikkel was with us some of that time as well. After that we trained Hroar and Taskay in what we learned that they might be better knights than their teachers, which is ever the hope of older knights. For those reasons we will fight together the most ably, I ween, though many among you are doubtless braver and cannier than we.”
Nothing was said against that for how full of sense it was, and they judged Sir Hring wise that he forbore to speak of the disputes and rivalries among their lords and cities, which it were better not to recall so long as they traveled that troubled country that once was Gaspriga. Without complaint therefore the four picked knights arrayed themselves each at one of the four gates, and at Sir Hring's command went in all at once. Those gates swung shut behind them and were locked iron-fast, which was no surprise to them, and no wish did they have to leave before they took even a single step like fearful men. Rather than that, they met inside and wandered that Garden Iniquitous in search of the truth of it.
Laurels lined grassy paths, and no inch of the nourishing earth was seen anywhere, and neither were there stones fit together for walkways, but all was green. Shrubs rested under trees short but broad in their branches like men who sit at the tables of the wealthy, at times doing some task for their patron unstinting in his largesse and otherwise taking their untroubled ease. There were fountains further in, and around those, statues of warlike men stood watch over banks of flowers, lilies and roses, carnations and orchids, pimpernels, and much else beside. And what was strange was this, that all those several kinds bloomed in their fullness without regard for season or sun.
Krystila's knights wandered the place from end to end but faced no peril, and Sir Hroar said this, a knight young and far from somber. “Thus far I have uncovered one worry, which is that the duke will desire a like garden for his palace when we tell him of our journey. The cost must be great, and never will it be done by such gardeners as are in Krystila or may be hired there.”
With chiding words did Sir Taskay speak back to his friend. “If a man foresees by his wit that a mine he knows will soon add gold to its yield and tells all his thought rather than buying some part of the mine or selling what gold he has while the price is at its highest, will we deem him wise or foolish? I will trust what you say is true when I see you busy in spadework to please the duke with plants from this marvelous Garden.”
Sir Hroar asked, “How many men were busied in digging and potting when some foe fell upon them and slew them?” And that answer was scorned by Sir Taskay, but Sir Mikkel liked it well.
“We may indeed draw out ambushers by that means. Set about it, you two, for I am eager to face an iron-clawed beast or peerless knight jealous of his Garden.”
In that style they talked, though all held blades in grim fingers and looked about in the way of men taught by war to be wary. They searched the Garden more and saw nothing, no ambush by gore-spilling fighters, nothing of sorcery, no great beasts such as are rocs and sphinxes, and there was a lack even of animals that like to live near trees and of flower-haunting bees, so that it was eerie.
Yet after the knights looked over all the ground within the fence, the day waxed stranger still. Clouds gathered, heavy and dark, to spread the cold rain of winter over the Garden Iniquitous, though that season was far off. When a few flakes fell, the four knights were amazed at it, but soon they deemed amazement too little. The snow and wind both waxed so that neither were the knights able to see nor hear one another for the bluster and the frosty sheets, as when a king summons his wise and trusted men to council when the state of his rule is dire and each vassal speaks of his own distress, blaming the others and putting forward plans for his own good only, so that nothing is clearer than it was before the council, but rather less so.