“I won't. I won't give up.”
Anaxantis sat in the war room, waiting until Tomar and a clerk would bring the business of the day. When they entered the room, he dismissed the clerk immediately.
“You look tired, Tomar.”
“That is because I have been up most of the night, looking up laws and precedents. Hemarchidas filled me in on the secret charter the king gave commander Tarngord. I thought you would want to know what your options are.”
“And?”
“And? And nothing, I'm afraid. Though I must admit that I was a bit surprised how extended your powers are. To summarize, they are the same as those of the king, were he here. In fact, you can only be superseded by the king himself or his representatives. We know your predecessor, the count of Whingomar, found that out the hard way. The king can send in his orders to Tarngord by special messenger or courier pigeon, who then only has to produce the charter he thinks nobody except him knows about to block you every step of the way.”
“That's not altogether correct. His authority is only higher than mine as far as the army is concerned.”
“Granted, but you need the army if you want to fight the Mukthars and, let's face it, Tarngord will never let you use it for that particular purpose. Or rather, your father won't let you.”
“I'm not all that sure if that's entirely the case. Demrac has kept the fact that he has a charter that gives him superior authority a secret. He doesn't want me to know, which is very wise of him. He wants to spring it upon me while I suspect nothing. But, I do know, and now it is in our best interest to prevent him from finding out that.”
“You've lost me, I'm afraid.”
Anaxantis smiled.
“It will all become clear in time. The papers can wait. Let's go to the training grounds. I need the whole clan together.”
“Bortram, I want you out of the army as soon as possible and into my service,” Anaxantis said.
He had gathered all his friends in the tent.
“File for decommissioning today. Hemarchidas, Lethoras, I want you two detached from the Cheridonian cavalry. I'll personally go to your general to arrange it. You'll also enter my personal service. Same for you, Tomar, out of the administration of the Northern Marches. You'll become my private secretary. Marak, you're a special case as the Dermolhean Militia consists of volunteers. Do you have any particular obligations?”
“No, I can simply resign. There's nothing anybody can do about that, although I suspect father will have something to say about it,” Marak replied.
“Good. I have already requisitioned the barracks in the north eastern corner of the camp. I'd like you all together there. I want the leadership of the clan in no way connected anymore with the army or the auxiliary troops, because they both fall under the command of general Tarngord. How many clansmen do we have at the moment?”
“About sixty,” Lethoras said.
“I want them out of the army too. Not all at once of course. Talk to them individually and begin with the most trustworthy. Let's say, over a period of two, three months. Tomar, can I pay for all this?”
“Your monthly stipend as lord governor is more than adequate to cover the salaries. I don't know about your personal assets, except that they have increased considerably recently, but I doubt you will need them. In fact the amount you are paid by the Royal Treasury every month is quite obscene, and you haven't spent much. So there is a reserve. There was only a slight peak in expenditures last month, but nothing serious.”
“Last month? Ah yes, Dermolhea. Books and a few gifts.”
The group fell silent. Everybody felt that Anaxantis had made an important decision.
“So, I gather you're not giving up?” Hemarchidas finally asked.
“No, by the Gods, I'm not. Don't ask for details, for the moment. Tomar, you and I are going for a walk. I want to discuss some finer points about the exact extend of my authority.” He looked around the circle and smiled. “And you lot, start preparing for a little trip. We're leaving within the week.”
“A trip? Whereto?” Lethoras inquired.
“We're going to pay a visit to lady Athildis, duchess-regent of Landemere. Just a friendly visit.”
“Yeah, I bet,” Bortram grinned.
“Bortram, go and tell general Busskal to prepare the cavalry. We're taking them as well.”
“The whole cavalry? All two hundred and fifty?”
“I want to make an impression.” Anaxantis smiled.
“Oh, yeah, sure, just a friendly visit.”
“What can I do for you, General?” Anaxantis asked, looking him straight in the eyes.
Demrac Tarngord looked back uneasily. The lord governor had been busy in the war room with two of his collaborators. They had been studying a map with the main roads of the Northern Marches. He had not been invited to sit down.
“It has come to my attention that you are planning to visit the duchy of Landemere,” he said after a pause.
Anaxantis kept looking at him, neither surprised nor questioningly, but simply awaiting what would come. It made the general very uneasy.
“It has also been said that you have asked general Busskal for the cavalry to accompany you,” he added after an uneasy period of silence.
Still no reaction. Just a blank expression. After a few moments of this Demrac couldn't keep calm anymore.
“Well, is it true?” he asked, sounding more irritated than he had wanted.
“As it happens, yes,” Anaxantis answered noncommittally.
“And were you planning on consulting me about this?”
“No.”
Demrac needed all his willpower to remain calm.
“I would have thought that you would at least have asked for my advise. A least, before ordering general Busskal to prepare the cavalry for action.”
“I didn't need your advise. I was planning to inform you of my decision, though. That doesn't seem necessary anymore as you obviously know all about it.”
“May I remind you that I am the commander of the Army of the North?”
“I hadn't forgotten that you are the commander of the army that is at the disposal of the lord governor. Last time I checked, that was me.”
“I dare you. I dare you to produce your charter and assert your authority. Are you going to show your trump card over this?”
The general retained his composure with difficulty.
“Yes, of course, my lord,” he said through clenched teeth. “It's just that you used to involve me in major decisions you made.”
“This is hardly a major decision, and I will involve you or not as I see fit.”
“Do you really need the whole cavalry?” He was annoyed to sound almost pleading.
In his turn Anaxantis reacted irritated.
“The whole cavalry? What are you talking about, man? Barely two hundred and fifty men. I am a royal prince visiting one of the most important duchies of the realm, in my function as lord governor, the sole representative of his majesty the high king. Would you have me arrive a beggar at the ducal court?”
“No, of course not—”
“Well, then the matter is closed,” Anaxantis interrupted him curtly. “Now, if there's nothing else, general, I have work to do.”
“My lord,” the general answered and bowed slightly.
He turned on his heels and left the war room.
“That... that insolent... boy,” the general seethed with anger inside. “He treats me as one of his servants. But he'll see that he has overplayed his hand once he tries to move against the enemy. Then it will be my turn to inform him of my decision without so much as a by-your-leave.”
“Will you be gone long?” Ehandar asked, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice.
He sat in the big chair with Anaxantis straddling his lap, facing him.
“A week, I guess, maybe less.”
“I hope you'll get something more out of her than the two hundred and fifty men she promised us.”
> “I'll do my best.”
“Well, you can't possibly do worse than I did in Mirkadesh or Dermolhea... It is going to be lonely without you here, though.”
Anaxantis smiled at him and took his head in both his hands.
“I know, but it is only for a week. I'll be leaving tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow already?” This time he couldn't keep the frustration out of his voice.
“Don't look at me like that,” Anaxantis cooed. “The sooner I go, the sooner I'll be back.”
He looked his brother in the eyes as if searching something.
“Still, I feel so useless. I wish there was something I could do,” Ehandar sighed.
Anaxantis leaned forward and kissed him full on the lips.
“There are a few things you can do, but it can wait until I return from Landemere. Step by step, Ehandar. Drop by drop.”
“Come,” he said, “let's make an early night of it.”
It was the end of November and there was a crispness in the air, but the weather was dry, when Anaxantis, his friends, the cavalry and several servants set out of the camp of Lorseth on the road to Landemere. He felt his blood racing through his veins with anticipation. In his head he went once more over his plans. He had only spoken with Tomar about what he intended to do in Landemere. Together they had read every law, ordinance, decree and statute that could have any bearing on his plans. At last they had been satisfied that, from a legal point of view, they had a solid case. Anaxantis hadn't told the others exactly what his intentions were. The evening before they arrived at the ducal castle would be time enough.
Hemarchidas came riding beside him and some time later general Iftang Busskal joined him at his left side. They kept looking at each other, at him and then at each other again. After a few minutes Anaxantis burst out laughing.
“OK, guys, out with it. What's on your mind?”
“What's on our mind?” Hemarchidas fumed. “The price of carrots on the market at Ormidon, of course. What did you think was on our minds?”
“Don't misunderstand me, my lord,” Iftang said, “I love being out of the camp, and as far as I am concerned I like nothing better than accompanying you on your trips, but I must admit I am a little bit curious as to why you need the whole cavalry.”
Anaxantis laughed out loud. It sounded like a mountain rivulet tumbling down the rocks on a slope.
“Oh, Iftang, haven't you guessed by now? You, Hemarchidas? No?”
They both gave him an empty stare, which made him laugh still harder.
“I am a Tanahkos,” he shouted to the open road before him, “and I am going to steal me a duchy.”
“He positively glows,” Hemarchidas thought with a sudden pang of longing. “He looks like a young god setting out to conquer the world. Are young gods capable of giving love? Do they even need it? Or do they prefer to be worshiped from afar?”
Anaxantis turned to the general with a smile that could have melted rocks.
“By the way, Iftang, my friends call me Anaxantis.”
“And how—”, Hemarchidas began.
“I'll race you to that bridge there,” Anaxantis yelled and grinned at him. “Hyyya.”
He gave his horse the spurs and darted away, his blond hair trailing behind him.
“Anaxantis,” Hemarchidas shouted after him. “Slow down. You don't know this road. You'll break your neck. Slow down, you little fool.”
Seeing that all his warnings went unheeded, he gave his own horse the spurs while turning to the general.
“Follow him,” he yelled at the general.
They both raced after him. Hemarchidas with a grim look on his face, Iftang laughing out loud.
“Oh, I'll follow him. To the seven pits of Murokthill and back if need be. I'm thirty two and I feel more like twenty when I'm with him than when I actually was twenty.”
“I'm getting too old for this,” Athildis thought while she stared out of the window of her room. “The youngest of that nest of vipers he may be, but I'd better not underestimate him. They say that he forced his brother, not only to resign as lord governor, but to renounce his name and lineage as well. Who would have thought that one day a descendant of that horrible Bordomach would find a new perverse use for that preposterous piece of legislation? They also say he is pretty like a girl. Maybe he fights like a girl too. Well, this old girl has been far longer in the game than he has.”
She heard a soft knock on the door and, having recognized by its typical rhythm who it was, said “Enter”.
“After all these years he still knocks.”
“You're worrying again about tomorrow's visit of the prince?” the man who entered asked when he saw her distressed face. He was sixty nine, a year older than Athildis.
“Yes, Threnn dear, I don't have a good feeling about this.” She hesitated. “We can take him, can't we?” she added, unsure of herself.
“Of course we can, my love, we'll run circles around him. We'll make his head so dizzy with hundreds of little facts and dozens of reasons why we can't do more than what we're doing, he won't know what is fore and aft anymore. Tomorrow evening we'll stuff him with fine food and pour so much wine into his pretty little mouth, that he won't be able to think straight anymore. Then we'll offer him five hundred men, double what we promised him and his brother. He'll go home feeling like a conqueror.”
Threnn laughed reassuringly at her and caressed her cheek.
“You'll see... Remember how we fooled his grandfather, Portonas?”
“Portonas? Portonas? Bordomach you mean. Yes, I remember. But then we were young, Threnn, and we bit in every new day with that hunger that only the young have. And every bite we took tasted fresh, not dry and stale. Arranulf was still with us... More than twenty five years he is gone now.”
She sighed.
“I still miss him every day, as I am sure you do. Do you think he ever knew?”
“About us?” Athildis shrugged. “I'm almost certain he did. He never said a word, though. He loved me too much. And he loved you too much. He always knew that my... my needs were far greater than his. Once, when you and I were together, I thought I heard something, but nobody came in, and a few minutes later we heard him singing to himself down the stairs. It took him a while to get upstairs ,and by then we were quietly talking as if nothing had happened. I've always suspected that the noise I heard was him, but that he silently went away. He didn't want to lose either of us and probably reckoned that his honor was safe in your hands. As it was. Do you know I couldn't have told you who's child little Arranulf was, his or yours? Neither could he, but he didn't mind. Not too much, anyway. On one of those bright days, when we watched you teaching our son some stupid man-stuff or other, he said that our boy was lucky to have two fathers.”
Threnn smiled at her.
“Sadly enough he needed his spare father, and now he himself rests beside his true father. Both times you had to take the reins of the duchy in hand. Once when your husband died and you had to safeguard the inheritance of your son and then again when he in his turn died much too soon, and you had to do the same for your grandson. Both times you did a marvelous job, my dear.”
Athildis looked at him.
“I could only do it because I knew I had you by my side. Little Arranulf has the mandotmeros, the wolf's eye, so his father must have been the son of my husband. Sorry, dear, he wasn't yours. The mandotmeros runs only in the ducal family of Landemere, once every few generations. Some would call it a deformity, but it's only a strange mixture of colors in one eye that give it a fierce, penetrating quality and I'm glad he has it. It proves his legitimacy beyond any shadow of a doubt.” She took Threnn's hand. “But that doesn't mean that you weren't my son's true father as well, my love. It was you who raised him and made a man, a duke out of him, just as you raised his son, our grandchild.”
She sighed.
“It all went so different from what we had hoped, didn't it?” Threnn said softly. “We were almost ready. Everyone knew th
at Berimar was finished, that he couldn't hold on to the Devil's Crown. If Bordomach hadn't moved so fast, it could very well have been that the royal House of Landemere would be sitting upon the throne now, and that you would be the queen-regent.”
“Were we ready, you think?”
“Oh yes, Arranulf was a master strategist. But who would have thought that Bordomach would risk his bid for the throne with barely eight thousand men? Arranulf was clever enough to send envoys to both him and Berimar, each promising exactly the same, that help was on it's way. Nothing in writing of course. When Berimar fell on the Karmenian Hill, our envoy in his camp quietly disappeared. Of course, a token Landemere force was underway. And came too late. A ploy we have since used a few times with good results.”
“I've always suspected Bordomach knew we were playing both sides. Remember that border dispute we had a few years after he became king? I don't recall exactly, but it was about a few meadows. He decided against us and for... for...”
“For Ramaldah. I think you're right. It was his way of saying that he knew what we did during the struggle for the Devil's Crown, that he would let it rest but that we should never forget who won in the end.”
Athildis shivered although it was warm in the room.
“What if he hadn't let it rest, Threnn?”
“Arranulf was ready, my dear. Like I said, he was a master strategist. Anybody in his place would have done one of two things. Either prepare the duchy for a long fight and make it as impregnable as possible, or take the field and meet Bordomach head on and throw it all upon one battle. Arranulf didn't believe in a defensive strategy. In the long run it was a losing game, he used to say. You hem yourself in, while your enemy can pick his own good time to attack you and draw upon outside resources. In the meantime yours, which are finite, are slowly dwindling away. No, if Bordomach had marched against us we had a plan ready. We would have occupied Amiratha in a lightning fast campaign. That would have given us control over its vast resources and ample space to retreat if necessary. We could have held out indefinitely in the hills of Amiratha and we knew Bordomach couldn't afford a protracted war, not with his claims on the throne as flimsy as they were. He needed Ximerion to be peaceful as quickly as possible. So, in the end, after having considered all options, he left us alone. You could even say Arranulf had won the face off. Without shedding one drop of blood.”
The Invisible Chains - Part 1: Bonds of Hate (Dark Tales of Randamor the Recluse) Page 22
