by Lazlo Ferran
“Will you miss me, when you are away?” It was a sincere question.
“Yes.” It deserved a sincere answer.
She stirred and I could see here taking off the gown, leaving her completely naked when she rested back against me. Her skin was nice to the touch. I felt for her breast and cupped its full shape in my hand. I could feel the nipple harden, just slightly. My appetite for her was growing, I just wanted to be inside her, and suddenly I had rolled her on her back and was looking into her lovely brown eyes. She felt me pushing between her legs and opened them for me to enter her. It was so comfortable being inside her. We both trusted each other completely and as I rocked back and forth, it was a very gently motion, but still passionate in a deeply tender way.
“Shakira.”
“Oh. My King”
Within minutes I had subsided, satisfied, and although I offered to satisfy her further, tonight she just wanted to lie in my arms.
I awoke early and dressed quietly, not wanted to wake her. When I sat on the edge of the bed, for one last look at her, she was smiling at me. I bent to kiss her. She raised herself to me, kissing me on the mouth tenderly before sinking again into the crimson and blue silk.
“Don’t get hurt.”
“I won’t.”
“When can I expect you back?”
“Midday in three days’ time.”
My horse had been saddled and we clattered across the drawbridge before turning west, away from the rising sun, twenty horses and twenty of my finest Palace Guard. My horse was decked out the same as theirs, yellow coat embroidered with the Royal Crest in blue, and also bordered in blue and with blue tassels. We wore light armour, chain under white tunics, the crest on our shields and swords in our hands for the first mile. This last was for effect and early rising citizens cheered as we passed. It was my habit to dress exactly the same as any Palace Guard as these small units were often ambushed and I didn’t wish to be picked out. Geb-Gaban, my Lieutenant, rode beside me and we rode in pairs, up into the foothills of the mountain-spur that guarded the western flank of my City. We would be traveling until late the following morning and I would have plenty of time to think, which I needed. Geb-Gaban took the lead slightly, his tall figure, sitting straight on his horse. I had ordered him to take the old track west for at least four hours before turning south, up into the rough pastures, to confuse any of Lord Bulya’s spies who may be watching, before turning north again and out onto the plains. I would instruct him further then. Only he was to know that first part of the route. As we rode, first at a gentle gallop, then a canter. I considered my options. Whoever was to take the northern Army had to succeed. They simply had to or else we could not defeat Korim. He and his forces would simply slip back through the pass and return next year. Or worse. I rued the fact that my parents had not had more daughters. They’d had four, it was true and, in the time-honoured fashion, these had been married off to Princes of neighbouring Kingdoms, which had the effect of protecting our southern, western and eastern borders but there were five Kingdoms bordering our own, not four. If my mother had had a fifth daughter perhaps Korim would not have invaded. Little was known about him except that he was an illegitimate son of the King of that realm and had been an outcast for most of his life. He and his troupe of thieves sacked towns and pillaged as they went, taking refuge in the mountains in winter. Even the King had tried to arrest his own son but failed. Perhaps, if he had married a sister of mine, he would have tried harder.
My mind kicked around various schemes and combinations of generals and spies, watching them until we reached our halt at midday. It was an ale-house, in a small village called Brezil-Nadid, which I had frequently rode out to when I was a boy. I strode up to the long oak- hewn bar and slapped my hand on the wood.
“Twenty pints of your finest ale and bread and cheese, too if you please bar-man.” It was an order he would not receive very often and the poorly dressed, bearded old man turned quickly with s broad smile on his leathern face. Suddenly his eyebrows lifted even higher.
“My King! Where have you been these long years?”
“You disappoint me, Moddei. I did not expect you to recognise me!”
“Aah! But I was in your fair City last year for the tournament and I saw you then. You are a might more tubby than when I last saw you, ten years before.”
He slapped my stomach, held in by a leather belt, beneath the tunic. Geb-Gaban drew in breath at this and some of the Guards drew their swords. I laughed. When I was a very small boy and first rode out here on a small pony with my father, he had sat me on his lap and played with me in the back yard.
“It's alright Geb. He is an old friend.” Geb had been Lieutenant only two years and this was the first time he had rode here with me, or else he would have known old Moddei.
“Will you eat out in the yard Sire? It is a fine day.”
“Certainly, If that is your recommendation.” I always had a good feeling when I was with Moddei and took his advice seriously. He was a simple man and simplicity was a welcome relief from the Palace.
He stepped out from the end of the bar and unlatched a thick door at the back of the long bar, letting a burst of sun from the east strake the wall behind him, silhouetting him at the same time. I followed him out into the back yard. It had not changed.
“Don’t have much need of it now. Not many customers during the day, you know. Most come at night to get drunk.”
The yard was really the end of a small orchard, rows of wizened apple trees bearing fruit of various colours, sizes and stages of ripeness. Several tables rough-hewn from elm on trestles made of trunks, were lined up near the building, with long benches alongside. I recognised one, still with a hole in it where a knot of wood had been. It had been the cause of many jokes, involving disappearing drinks, in years gone by. We sat down and soon had sturdy tankards of thick, sweet ale at our lips. I noticed that even Geb sat slightly apart from me. They knew I was thinking hard. I spun round on the bench, leaning on the edge of the table, to take in the view. A valley as wide as the eye could see opened up before me, the hills meeting a plain perhaps five miles away. Much of these foothills were a patchwork of pastures or golden fields of corn, now being harvested. The plain in the distant was partially arid, partially fertile where it met the Great River. Crows hopped along branches of taller trees around the edge of the yard, or in the tall grass nearby, hoping for scraps.
Suddenly I noticed a small bird singing in the top of one of the trees and I tuned in on it. Everything else was shut out, just for a moment, and my eyes were closed. I listened to the tune and smiled.
Then I heard a little tune in my head, with words. ‘Bulya will sing. Bulya will sing.’
I wondered what it could mean. Then I suddenly thought. Yes, of course. Bulya was the one.
My thoughts were interrupted for a moment. Moddei was serving large plates of thick bread and lumps of aromatic cheese. A bowl of apples, green and crisp, was placed in the centre and then a very large platter of cold meats.
“These are on the house.” He said putting down the platter. “I am sure you are on an important mission and need it.” He leaned close to my ear. “Is it something to do with the trouble in the north?” He missed nothing, this old man. I smiled. I knew he would read in my face that he was right.
A young maid bought out another round of ale and as we ate, I thought things over.
Yes. It was a dangerous mission and Bulya was my most experienced and clever general. I had met him, while a boy, at the academy, and we had been friends for a while. I often outmaneouvred him in war-games and in matters of recreation and he always conceded magnanimously but there was always a look in his eye, as if he were storing up knowledge of me. He was wily and I didn’t trust him. Lately, my distrust had proved well-placed. I knew he was plotting, and this attack offered him a rare, if not a last chance to usurp me militarily. But what if he had to win for me, to save his own skin? If he led the northern attack and if I somehow made certain
he could not escape back through that pass further northwest, he would have to win through the main pass to my forces. If not, he would be cut off and slaughtered. If he lost, I would lose my main rival. It was ruthless but I would rather lose him than someone loyal to me. If he succeeded, perhaps it would be a sobering experience for him and would curb his ambition. It seemed to fit.
I downed the last of my ale and reached for a green apple with a smile on my face. I bit into the crisp fruit and immediately a shiver ran down my spine! It was sour! I persevered for another few mouthfuls and then lay it aside. I wanted to make the most of this relaxing moment before we moved.
Looking around I savoured the lovely hot day in the country. Too few of these I experienced and even when I did, my mind was often filled with anxious thoughts, which separated me like an opaque pane of glass from the views around me.
I heard a squeal and, looking back to the table, saw the maid’s behind swinging away from the hand of one of the Guards.
“Careful,” I said, smiling. “She may be the landlord’s daughter. I doubt he can afford staff.” The men all laughed.
Just then I noticed a small face peering out from behind the door. It was a child.
“Come out! Come out and play!” I called. His full height of four feet slipped out from the doorway and ran awkwardly towards me.
“And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?” I asked, standing up and bending down towards his upturned face.
“Boris! My name is Boris”
“Hello Boris. My name is Vaslav.” I said, shaking his small hand between my first finger and thumb.
“Pleased to meet you Sir!” he replied, saluting. I stood up and saluted him. “Are you going to fight the evil Korim?”
I laughed and the men as did the men.
“Maybe but not today. Let’s play catch!” I tagged him on the back and he ran after me, his little legs struggling to lift his heavy leather boots in the long grass. I let him catch me and then tagged Geb. Geb dutifully ‘ran,’ very slowly while some of the others, chased him with Boris. After only a few minutes, Boris was exhausted.
“We must be going, Boris. I will come and see you again.”
“Will you? Oh, that would be very good Vaslav.” He reached for my hand and we walked towards the door, with the men, picking up their kit and following.
“You are my friend,” said Boris, looking up at me.
“I certainly am and I will not forget you.”
Moddei had been cleaning tankards and turned to see the small child standing beside me. He smiled and Boris ran around the bar to join him.
“He is my grandchild.” He said.
“I thought so.”
“Grandfather. Vaslav says he will come back and we will play more games in the yard!”
“I am sure he will!”
I laughed.
I wanted to pay the landlord for the cold meats but Geb had already thrown a few coppers on the bar. I knew the cold meats would be worth more, perhaps half a gold piece. I also wanted to test Geb’s loyalty. I did not know him well and I may need to trust him with my life, at some point. Most of the men had filed past us and were out in front, preparing the horses. Only Geb was still next to me. Moddei’s back was turned again as he replaced the tankard on a shelf. Taking a gold coin from my pouch, I placed it under another just-washed tankard sitting upside down on the bar, drying. Geb saw what I did.
“We must be going Moddei but we will be back in a few days.” I said, holding out my hand.
He took it and then Geb’s before grabbing another tankard from the row of tankards and turning to dry it, facing away from us. He had still not picked up the tankard covering the coin. I walked out leaving Geb behind. He could easily take it now and I would not know.
Outside, some of the horses were still drinking from a trough. A lot of children had gathered to watch and a few pretty girls watched from a patch of green across the road. Some of the older boys had been grooming the horses, hoping for a copper or two, or even a word in the right ear for them, back at the palace. Indeed the Guards did hand over a few coppers.
I climbed onto my horse, which was the signal for all to mount, and we rode off eastwards, at a steady trot. For the most part, the track stretched away across gently sloping pastures but in places it passed through woodland of blue pines and grey alder and in one place, though a deep gorge roaring with white water beside the track. As we rode, I considered my plan. There was, of course, one weakness that came to mind. Bulya could enter into an alliance with Korim. This would be difficult to do, in the short period of time he would have; perhaps two days. It was even less likely because Korim would fear a trick. Nevertheless, it was something I would have to guard against and I would think of some way.
We had just emerged from a narrow path between some high pines and Geb was to my left and a few paces behind. It was bad form to let the King travel at the head of a column but rather than expecting Geb to catch up, I considered that I should drop back. Suddenly I felt uneasy. I held up my hand for all to stop. As my horse stopped he slipped slightly, the dirt being kicked up in a small, grey cloud.
“Listen.” There was silence. No birds were singing. I had not noticed this when the horses were moving.
Suddenly the men were alert, looking around them. I looked at Geb and he nodded.
“Bare weapons!” he shouted. All the men raised their shields and drew their swords.
“What is your thought, Sire?”
“Hmm. Probably renegades, or thieves. I don’t think they will attack a brigade of fully armed Palace Guards. We will ride on but remain alert.”
We stopped again after a few miles and I could hear crows ‘kaa-ing.’
I indicated to Geb that it was alright and he nodded in agreement. We went on. After only another ten minutes, he led us onto a grass track leading south, away from the main road. The horses seemed pleased to be on grass and we let them gallop for a while and then, on the edge of a copse, we halted, for a short break and to let the horses graze.
“We will come back there.” Geb said pointing to a valley parallel to our path and a little way west. I nodded. It would hide us from any prying eyes.
We passed a small farmstead on the other side of the copse and the occupiers, standing in the doorway, looked very surprised to see us. The man, who was tall, saluted as we passed.
We found a path to the valley and took it, then turned west into the valley, which had a small stream gurgling along in its centre. It was late afternoon now and the shadows were getting longer. The air was cooler but still uncomfortably hot. I had noticed earlier, when we halted the first time at the sign of trouble, the sweat pouring down Geb’s face under his leather and steel helmet. His cool blue eyes gave no hint of his discomfort but I had not permitted him to give the order to take them off. It was too dangerous out here. Only I had taken my helmet off, for a little greater comfort.
The valley widened as we followed it and soon after we had crossed our original path, we came to a small village. The men wanted to stop but I bid Geb to carry on. After another hour we were into wide meadows, in a very wide valley leading out on to the plain. The blue pines and walnut trees, were replaced by long grass and gorse and then just patches of grass, which I could just make out in the gloom.
I could see the North Star, bright in the velvet night sky and steered, what I thought to be about twenty degrees east of it. Geb watched me, wondering where we were going. I hadn’t told him. Before long he asked me.
“We are going to meet a friend of mine! But that is a little unfair. We are looking for lights. There is a camp out here, about one hour’s ride from the last grass, which we passed thirty minutes ago, by my reckoning. The lights will be faint, only visible from about two miles so we must be vigilant.” Geb passed the word along to the men and I glanced back, a few minutes later to see their narrowed eyes, scanning the night.
* * *
Chapter Two
Suddenly, “There!” shouted o
ne of the men. “To the west.”
Indeed, there were some lights, tiny in the distance. We had almost passed too far east to see them. I turned my horse and within a few short minutes we halted at a crowd of curious, turbaned faces.
Meth Medir strode forwards and held out his hand, as I dismounted. He was their leader and a friend from a campaign many years before. His was one of the bands of a tribe known as the Massiny. They had for many hundreds of years offered protection to tradesmen traveling the silk-road, further to the south and spent their summers in Ashra, the largest city on the route, just over the south eastern most corner of my land. In the winter, they bred their stock of wild horses and some camels, out here on the plain where land was free for all.
Their many coloured, round dwellings, more grand than tents, though of cloth, were like a small village out here in the night. As we stepped inside the perimeter and the horses were led away, torches lit the sight of festivities.
“In your honour, great King, we have prepared a feast…”
“I am honoured.” I said in reply. “We have ridden all day.”
“I can see that!” Meth’s direct sense of fun had not changed. No doubt our faces were brown with the dirt from the ride. Some of the women of the tribe brought us strips of cloth, soaked in water, to wipe them with. One did not bath using water in a bowl, out here.
Goats and fowl, roasted on spits were served, with cool fruit, including grapes and fine rice, flavoured with cinnamon and raisins, a delicacy from the south. This was accompanied by a rich, red wine, very potent and a favourite of Meth’s.
We exchanged pleasantries, before Meth broke the ice with a direct question.
“So. You did not come here, simply to drink our fine red wine?”
“No. That is true, although that should be reason enough.” He nodded to show his appreciation.
