The Patrimony Page 4

  The aging chief sent a letter north with the next Confederation rider to pass through his duchy. In it, he humbly asked his son to forgive his temporary weakness to Mehleena’s importunings, begged him to return at once to his home, his father, and his family, but that letter was never answered. Nor were any others of the scores the repentant old man sent north. At length, his hurt pride surfacing, Hwahltuh stopped writing directly. Instead he entrusted weights of gold to Chief Bili, Ahrkeethoheeks Morguhn, that Tim might at least clothe himself well, own the protection of good weapons, decent armor and a well-trained destrier. Nor did the saddened Thoheeks of Vawn ever again hear directly from his heir. Only through Archduke Bili — who had been reared and war-trained in the Middle Kingdoms and who had kin and old comrades now in high places — did bits and pieces of Tim’s career trickle south, of Tim’s appointment as an ensign of dragoons in the Freefighter regiment of a well-known and renowned noble officer; of Tim’s knighting into the Order of the Blue Bear of Harzburk by King Gy, himself, on the blood-soaked field of Krahkitburk; of his defeat and capture of a famous champion in another battle; and, later, of the lieutenancy Tim purchased with said champion’s ransom.

  It was on Hwahltuh’s last visit to the ahrkeethoheeks’ hall that he heard of the purchased promotion. In the few years of life he then had remaining, his infirmities precluded travel, and the yearly taxes were, perforce, delivered to the overlord by his brother, the tahneestos, and Tim’s brother, Behrl.

  “You know these strange northern ways, Chief Bili. What does it mean, this title my boy’s bought himself? How many bows will draw for him? Is he still an underling to this Colonel What’s-his-name?”

  Bili nodded. “Yes, Colonel Sir Hehnri, Earl of Pahkuhzburk, is still his commander, but the title means that Tim now commands a contingent of fifty horse archers — they call them ‘dragoons,’ up there-with an ensign or two and a senior sergeant to assist him. Tim’s now responsible for the training of his troop, for their welfare and provisioning in garrison or on the march and for recruiting replacements after battles. Their weapons and armor and their horses, however, are provided by Sir Hehnri, except for those men lucky enough to own their own.”

  Hwahltuh sighed his relief. He still meant to provide for his loved son, but he had suddenly realized as the archduke spoke that he could beggar his duchy if he had to buy trained warhorses and weapons and armor for fifty-odd men.

  Bili went on, grinning, obviously inordinately proud of this younger half brother who had succeeded so well in the land of their mother’s birth and Bili’s own fond boyhood memories.

  “Give Tim a couple more good ransoms, if his luck holds, and he’ll be a captain in his own right. He’ll be totally independent of his present regiment and able to negotiate contracts for his services.”

  “With only fifty horse archers, Bili?” the old thoheeks asked. “What sovran or lord would be willing to hire on so small a contingent?”

  “Ask any one of the hundred I might name, Hwahltuh,” attested Bili bluntly, adding, “You’ve never been in the Middle Kingdoms, good stepfather, so you’re thinking in terms of the vast host of Lord Milo’s army. But none of the states of the north is even a tenth the size of our Confederation, and even if the three largest could somehow be brought into alliance, even that alliance could not pay either the hire or the maintenance of a force the size of our Regular Army.

  “Oh, yes, there’ve been the rare times in years agone when one kingdom or another briefly fielded fifteen or twenty thousand fighters, but not recently. They’ve been fighting among themselves for so long that warfare there is almost a game — a violent, bloody and sometimes fatal game, but a game, nonetheless. Quality of troops is of far more importance to the prospective employer than is numbers — quality of the troops and the fame of their commander.

  “You can bet your last silver thrahkmeh that Sir Tim’s exploits have by now spread far and wide. So if his luck holds and he can manage to put together a good, independent command, he’ll soon be able to pick and choose among some very lucrative contracts. His fortune will be assured. You can be justly proud of him, Hwahltuh. Sun and Wind know that I am.”

  “I could burst of my pride in my son, Bili.” The old man’s voice was low but filled with feeling. “But his place is — should be — here. He should be in Vawn, Bili. I’m an old, old man, even for our race, and … and I’m not well. If … if something should happen to Tim, if he should be killed or badly crippled … well, I just don’t know.

  “You know how it is with Ahl — he’d never be confirmed chief. As for Behrl, well, he’ll make a fine tahneestos, he’d be a first-class war chief, but he’s just not the temper for the kind of chief a Confederation clan needs, and the Kindred know it as well as I do, too. And his mindspeak is a chancy, come-and-go thing, atop it all. So, I doubt me that the Clan Council would ever confirm him.

  “And,” his voice assumed grim overtones, “you and I both know who that leaves to succeed me. She is forever preening the lout in front of any Kinsman of Sanderz who’ll hold still long enough to watch the act. And act it is, Bili. Myron is totally Ehleen, the worst kind of Ehleen. I cringe to think how my duchy and kin and our folk would fare under so unnatural a creature.”

  Bili squirmed uncomfortably in his high-backed armchair, then shrugged, “Well, if the act is really so apparent, the clansmen might not confirm him, and, even if they should, I can always refuse to recognize that confirmation, you know.”

  Hwahltuh sighed. “Be realistic, Bili. Admittedly, I was born in a hide tent on the Sea of Grass, but I’ve dwelt among your eastern Kindred for near a score and half of summers now. Men will be men, whatever their birth or race, and they have their pride.

  “Prince Zenos is first cousin of Mehleena, and you know as well as I do that he’d never allow you to override a Clan Council confirmation of a man of his house. No, you wouldn’t dare but recognize that pervert in my place.”

  Bili cracked one big knuckle, then another. “Hwahltuh, I am not without certain influence at Kehnooryos Atheenahs, the Undying …”

  Hwahltuh slowly shook his head, raising a hand. “The High Lords are up to the eyebrows in the mountain business, and the last thing they want to see is any bare trace of internal discord. Neither the High Ladies nor God Milo could afford to countenance your barefaced insult and defiance of your overlord.”

  The two noblemen finished their honey mead in silence; there was nothing more to say. But as Hwahltuh was mounting his easy-gaited mule for the long ride back to Vawn, he leaned close to the archduke and said, “I have a strange feeling, Bili, that I’ll never see you again. Please, promise me one thing. By the love my dear Mahrnee so freely gave to the three of us, swear that immediately I seem about to go to Wind you will see Tim in Vawn to take his lawful place.”

  Chapter V

  It was not often that Thoheeks Bahrt, chief of Skaht, forked a horse and rode a dusty road on so hot and humid a morning. But neither was it often that a simple country nobleman of these hinterlands of the Confederation was granted the opportunity to accompany so high and important a personage, nor to do so in proximity to such expensive splendor.

  But, all other considerations aside, his escort was no less than his bounden duty, for the personage now riding a fine-bred, richly caparisoned gelding at his side had been his guest for three days and was both Kindred and blood kin. And, for all his fifty-three years, Bahrt was still virile and appreciative of his companion’s beauty.

  Not that that beauty was readily apparent this morning, for the costly gowns which had had the ladies of Skahtpolis fairly squirming with envy were all packed away in the trunks strapped into the boot of the ponderous coach and in the two wagons which followed it. She rode in Horseclans garb of the ancient cut — baggy trousers tucked into soft, felt boots, wide dagger belt mounting a silver-hilted dirk, tight-sleeved pullover shirt which for all its bagginess still could not conceal the proud upthrust of her mature breasts, drooping velvet cap; the only ou
tre touch was a thick veil to protect her nose and mouth from the choking dust

  “Duke Bahrt …”

  Bahrt turned in his high saddle, feeling afresh the stimulation of that throaty voice. “My lady?”

  “Archduke Bili knows not that I near his desmesne. Think you I should send a galloper,” she half-waved at the handsomely equipped squad of dragoons who followed the two nobles at a discreet distance, the slow trot of their mounts setting their armor and weapons to jingling and clashing, “or two, that he might be prepared to receive guests?”

  Bahrt shook his head. “No need, my lady, no need at all. Bili the Axe is ever ready to receive and entertain Kindred. Besides, when you told me of your intention to return home by way of Morguhn, I took the liberty of dispatching a messenger. We should be meeting the lad, shortly.”

  The pale-blue eyes above the veil softened perceptibly, and, reining her gelding closer, the woman laid a gloved hand upon her host’s bridle arm, saying, “You have been more than kind, Duke Bahrt. I had not expected such tender consideration from one who had not seen me in … how many years?”

  The slight mistiness he detected in her eyes added unaccustomed gruffness to his voice. “You are my kin, my lady, if naught else — your dear mother’s blood sister was my dear first wife and the dam of my firstborn son, Mylz. Too, there be right many who are and will be overjoyed to see you again where you belong, here with the kin who love you.

  “You must know, my lady …” He paused and glanced about, the very picture of a man who customarily must seek out eavesdroppers before he speaks his mind, then went on in a rush of words, “For all the respect we bore him, most of the Kindred hereabouts thought ill of your father for what was so quickly and rashly done, and your return gladdens my heart. It will gladden Bili’s, too, and those of all true Kindred. I feel free to say — Now by my steel, what’s this?”

  Fifty yards ahead, the Freefighter who had ridden the point all morning rounded a turn at full gallop. But the duke was not the only man to see the oncoming rider or to be alarmed at his precipitate haste; from behind the two nobles came a ripple of metallic sounds as targets were unslung and the various points and fastenings of armor checked. Without a word, the lieutenant kneed his mount forward until he was abreast of his mistress.

  When he had halted his steed, the point rider saluted. “My lady, a column approaches; their van be less than half a mile from this place. I counted a score of dragoons and at least two noblemen, no baggage.”

  “Is there a banner, man?” put in Duke Bahrt. “I’d like to know what scapegrace leads armed men across my land without a by-your-leave.”

  The Freefighter nodded. “Aye, my lord, it looked to be a bird of some kind. Red, I think.”

  Bahrt slapped his thigh. “The Red Eagle of Morguhn, by Sun! Bili’s come to meet you himself, my lady. I should’ve expected that of him.”

  The lady turned to the lieutenant “No cause for alarm, Leeahn, it’s the archduke, Bili of Morguhn, my half brother.”

  *

  Had the pointman watched a bit longer, he would have seen that the column from the south was assuredly no war party. It moved at an ambling walk, and the only man erect in his saddle was the pennon bearer, and he was kept alert only by the occasional gust of wind from off the distant mountains that unexpectedly bellied out the heavy, silken banner and made fair to tear the ashwood shaft from his grasp. The twenty troopers behind him slouched in restful postures, feet loose from stirrups and many with a leg hooked up around saddle pommel. They chatted and joked and cackled, blew at the sweat coursing down their faces and now and then sucked at the sun-warmed water in their journey-bottles.

  But the short, powerful hornbows protruding from their cases were strung, the quivers were all full, and a heavy saber depended from every man’s belt The armor which peeked from under the light cotton surcoats had been polished to the sheen of fine silver, and, indeed, every scrap of their equipment mirrored the devotion and hard work of upkeep. One familiar with warriors would not have needed to see the hard-eyed, scarred faces to ascertain that these men were professionals or to guess how quickly, for all their present relaxation, they could become two tens of mounted, steel-swinging death to any rash enough to oppose them.

  A few paces ahead of the pennonman, astride identical black stallions, rode two noblemen. The elder — thick of body, wide at hip and shoulder, big, square hands thickly dusted with fine blond hairs, lined, scarred face cleanly shaven — rode in silence, listening to the younger, his favorite son.

  “… so there we sat, Father, through the whole damned night, all twelve thousand of us. Had we attacked immediately we arrived, at dusk, before all the barbarian host had assembled, we could have slaughtered them piecemeal. But no, we must perforce hunker down until dawn, then assault the works they’d been preparing all night. The upshot of that idiocy was near two thousand casualties. And, after the fact, when it was far too late to save those good men we’d lost Senior Strahteegos Vahrohnos Gaib of Hweelahk and his entourage rode into camp.”

  “I’ve not seen Gaib in twenty years, I guess.” The elder showed strong, yellow teeth in a broad grin.

  “He’s inspector of cavalry, Father. But when he saw and heard all, he relieved Strahteegos Vahrohnos Hwyt on the spot, sent the craven bastard back to Kehnooryos Atheenahs under guard, and took over command himself. Then he called all commanders of field grade to his pavilion and had each of us tell all we knew of the Djahrehtee opposing us, of Skuhltuhn, the approaches to which they were defending and of the lay of the country thereabouts. He pored over the maps for a bit, then called us all back from the wine tun and issued his orders.

  “As soon as it was dark, he sent out the cats to sweep any barbarian scouts from the area. Then, ceding command of the camp and the infantry to Sub-strahteegos Vahrohnos Djak Sanderz of Kahrtuh, he took all of the cavalry on a forced march.

  “Father, we kept at it all through that night — first east, then south, then southwest, then, finally, due west Sacred Sun and our columns both struck Skuhltuhn as one. Few of the tuhns are even stockaded, and none are truly walled. The cats had taken out the sentries, so the first warning the Djahrehtee had were three volleys of the kahtahfrahktoee’s arrows, every fifth a firearrow. Then we rode in from all four sides.

  “When we had sabered or lanced or axed everything that moved, we fired every structure not already burning and,” he winked, his dark eyes twinkling mischievously, “my Ahrmehnee boys got in a bit of fast looting. Then Strahteegos Gaib positioned us and the kahtahfrahktoee behind thick cover on either side of the eastern road, whilst the lancers and barbarian light horse rode, whooping and cavorting, around and about the blazing tuhn.”

  The elder nobleman drew out a pipe and pouch of tobacco and commenced to staff the former with the contents of the latter, as his son continued the tale.

  “Well, as Strahteegos Gaib had foreseen they would, the Djahrehtee came boiling up the east road, some of them riding mountain ponies, but most afoot, and in no kind of formation.”

  “No, western barbarians aren’t known for their discipline,” his father remarked drily, speaking around the stem of his pipe between puffs.

  “When their vanguard saw the corpse-littered streets and the burning houses and only about a squadron strength of cavalry opposing them, I think they went a little mad. Anyhow, they forgot their normal guile and threw caution away. It was, a textbook example of a successful ambuscade. When all the arrows and darts were sped, the strahteegos led the charge.

  “And then it was all over, all but the butchery. They were thoroughly broken on that road, Father, routed; the only ones that got away were those who took to the wooded slopes — the strahteegos refused to allow pursuit of those.”

  The older man nodded. “As one who has fought barbarians in their mountains, I’ll say that Gaib showed good judgment in that, my boy.”

  “The bulk of the survivors, though, clove to the road, fleeing back the way they’d come, so that th
ey — and we, naturally — ran head on into the barbarians retreating from their works which had fallen to the assault of Sub-strahteegos Vahrohnos Djak and the infantry.

  “A largish number of them took to the hills then, caught as they were between the pursuing infantry and us, and with all our missiles spent there was damn-all we could do about it. But at least a couple of thousand stayed on that road and fought. And they fought well, Father. Sun and Wind, they’d make firstwater soldiers, if only they could be disciplined!”

  Removing his smelly pipe from between his teeth, the older man smiled. “Oh, they will be disciplined, and they will be soldiers, son, Confederation Army soldiers. Well, maybe their sons will anyway, their grandsons, certainly. The western frontier’s moved near a hundred miles within my lifetime; it’ll do as much or more in yours. And this is how it’s done. It’s the High Lord’s plan, you see. Do you remember living in Kehnooryos Atheenahs as a child?”

  The younger man shook his head slowly. “No, Father, when was that?”

  “For two years after your dear mother died, I couldn’t bear to bide in Morguhn, so I took you and your brother and sister with me to the capital. We lived in the palace while I further developed my farspeak at the academy. I was much the favorite of all four Undying, in those days, and the High Lord spoke long and often with me of his plans for the Confederation and its expansion.

  “Ah, those were exciting days.” The older man’s blue eyes clouded over with memory. “In the wake of the Great Rebellion, the High Lord had dissolved the Ehleen Old Religion throughout the realm — lest it spawn or be the spawning ground for other insurrections. The clergy had been proscribed and all their lands and treasures had been seized in the name of the Confederation, so there was much wealth at the disposal of the Undying, and this was quite evident at the court in those days.