“Oh, yes. Lowren, the King of the Lemni.”
Shining eyes and glowing faces surrounded them as Eleanora stepped coolly inwards and came around for a closer look.
He seemed so calm. She could not help but look into those eyes, where she saw the most extraordinary thing.
Humor beckoned in there, and something else too—mischief.
He smiled at Eleanora, which came as something of a shock to the system.
“Good evening, Majesty. I bring you greetings from the people of Lemnia.”
Bobbing their heads in feasance as best they could, the two handlers quickly removed his collar and chains. Eleanora’s jaw dropped and more than one of the girls shrieked in either mock or real surprise. The handlers stepped back and went and stood by the front wall.
“What—”
A loud knock came at the door.
Lowren rubbed his wrists where the shackles had been removed and looked around at the main door to the regal apartments.
The door opened. A man stuck his head in.
Eleanora stood, stunned beyond belief to see a stranger enter her chambers unbidden. He locked gaze with Lowren.
“All secure, Sire.” He glanced rather longingly at the ladies and then quietly closed the door again.
He left a rather confusing tableaux behind, as all the ladies began talking at once and Lowren and Eleanora took their first real good look at each other.
“Silence!” Eleanora didn’t know whether to laugh, or to cry, or to simply let loose with all the furies of hell—upon this hairy, half-naked man who stood in a ladies bed-chamber with the most insouciant air.
Lowren struck a pose, engaged the tittering ladies with a friendly grin and then, as if the evening hadn’t been quite upsetting enough already, he took a long breath and began to speak in a sonorous tone.
“Be still, the beating wings of my heart, dry up, the windows of my soul, do not weep for that which could never be…”
The first claps were awkward, lonely things, but the swell of applause grew and grew and even Queen Eleanora had to accept that the man was here, after all.
***
“Lowren.”
He stopped his recital.
“Yes, Majesty?”
She stood there very straight and grim. She clapped her hands.
“Ladies.”
They shuffled and giggled and stood up straight. They tittered and covered their mouths and waited upon their sovereign’s instruction.
His mouth opened. He winked, looking around in sly understanding.
“Ah.”
She blushed. He grinned in pure enjoyment.
“Ladies. You will please retire. And no eavesdropping.” This was always a hazard.
All the women of noble birth were confined to this end of the house during the hours of darkness for many reasons, some of them not so obvious.
She could always lock them in indefinitely. It had been done before, although not by her...not yet.
There was a second exit at the far end in case of fire, but the look on Lowren’s face told her that this too would be guarded.
“Perhaps Theodelinda would care to stay and be of counsel.” Those dark eyes glittered at them.
There were squeaks and giggles as the group made their exit into the inner reaches of what could only be described as the harem. It was a harem of virgins, presumably. Bright, round eyes took one last look back, an appreciative look, even a speculative look in one-too-many cases. The last girl went out the door.
Her cousin was right there. Quiet reigned at last.
Her face was grim.
“Lowren. What is the meaning of this intrusion?”
“I needed to speak to you, Eleanora. And yet, so far, you have rejected or refused to recognize my embassies. There are matters of grave import which require attention, both yours and mine.”
“This is a most extraordinary act. Even for a barbarian. Explain yourself.”
“If I had sent a rider, with messages of state, and if he did not arrive, or if you should send him back…and if the message should fall into the wrong hands, it would be tragedy for all concerned. These are serious matters. I must speak frankly with my neighbors. With all due respect, Majesty, that includes you.”
“And what message would that be?” Theodelinda glanced at Eleanora, unsure of the reaction but reassured by her short nod.
“That the Hordes are arming. And they have taken Sinopus, on the Great Blue Sea. And there are a half a million men under arms…probably more, actually. The Great Khan does nothing without reason, Majesty.”
She took a sharp breath.
She’d heard the news of course, and troubling it was.
“And so naturally, you thought of us first.”
“Something like that, yes.”
The King looked down at his attire.
“I hope you will be inclined to listen, for I mean you no harm. My own presence is evidence of my sincerity, for surely we cannot stay long without being discovered and overwhelmed.”
He wasn’t about to tell her that she had been taken by a bare dozen men, all of them volunteers.
She stared, half-believing it. As far as barbarian rulers went, he was better than most. His word was said to be good, and the Lemni were some of the finest light cavalry known outside of the boundaries of proper military discipline and organization. But they were good nevertheless. They were also known to raid far up and down the coast in their long-ships when the cause suited them. They accepted gifts from many other states, which were usually seen as tribute by the recipients. Lowren’s kingdom was at least stable and had been so for a couple of generations.
There weren’t very many of them, of course. In that sense, they didn’t carry much weight when considering alliances.
“Go on.”
“With your permission, Majesty, I would like to call in one of my men.”
“Go ahead—I clearly can’t stop you.” But if I live, I shall surely avenge myself.
Her tone conveyed the menace well enough.
“Thank you.” He raised his voice towards the door of the chamber. “Kann.”
The door came crashing open and the man in question came in with a calm visage and confident air. There was someone else out there she noted, as the door was pulled closed from outside.
“So far we are undiscovered, sire.”
“Thank you. The map, Kann.”
His Serjeant at Arms drew it out from a long leather pouch and unrolled it.
He spread it out on a table normally used for sewing, embroidering tapestries, and the odd light refreshment when the nights were long and cold and the ladies were all in attendance.
“Please.”
Eleanora, with Theodelinda, moved in closer.
It was a map showing the northern half of the Great Sea and its littoral.
“Kann.”
The Serjeant nodded and went to secure the door to the area where the ladies-in-waiting were quartered in the dormitory-like upper floor on this wing of the castle.
He came back in a moment.
“It’s locked, and it seems fairly quiet over there.”
Lowren nodded.
“All right. Let us begin, then.”
***
The Great Khan ruled over a hundred satrapies. Some said there were more than that but no one could remember all of their names.
His predecessor, Cyril the Great, had ruled by force internally and at the same time, with his empire turbulent with internal dissensions, he had kept the peace, for the most part, with his neighbors. Yet the military reputation he had acquired in his youth during his rebel years, and then the constant fighting, over the course of decades to consolidate and pacify his newly-won people had deeply influenced his sons. The one lesson Cyril had inculcated, over and over again, practically pounding it into the heads of all his sons, was that one had to be strong to be secure—a usurper with no real claim on the throne, Cyril had both a strength and a personal insecurity t
hat could tolerate no rivals.
Upon Cyril’s demise, three or four of the elder brothers had fought it out. Their younger siblings had been quickly dispatched in battle or strangled with their own bowstrings in the sanctity of the seraglio.
The wars had been long and bloody, and the man who would become the Great Khan had a long memory. His embassies and requests for alliances had been rebuffed here and there, everywhere almost, by the sovereigns of neighboring states. They were, quite openly in some cases, waiting to see which way to jump. They were afraid to back a loser. No one could ever really know in the early stages which of the brothers stood the best chance of winning. To back a loser was often fatal for other allied rulers and nations. The plain truth was that his neighbors just didn’t want to get involved.
That’s not to say that Jumalak didn’t take it personally, because he did. Very much so. Especially after he had won in a war that cost eight years, the best years of his youth, and the lives of millions of his eventual subjects.
Feeling that he alone had been anointed by his Gods to rule over his people, he also believed that the sword of justice was his and his alone. He could accept of no other. All such men had their justification.
Simply put, he was a man with a grudge. He had a standing army which needed employment and which it would be dangerous to disband. That army was costing him hundreds of thousands of gold pieces a day just to feed.
In short, sooner or later, he would come.
Lowren looked up from the map.
He met their eyes, for both were formidable women. There was no underestimating Theodelinda. He was going on an impression gained by merchant and traveler’s reports, one now borne out by his own observations.
She asked the first question, while the Queen carefully studied Lowren.
Theodelinda was calm and cool.
“Why are you here, Lowren?”
“Because you have something I need.”
“Why should we help you?”
He straightened, addressing himself to Eleanora.
“Because it would be in your best interest to do so.” His shifted his gaze to the cousin. “I have ten thousand warriors available to me. We will be swept away just as surely as a dead branch in a flooding river in springtime…”
Eleanora nodded. This much was true—the Lemni didn’t have stone fortifications, neither were their soldiers professionally trained. And yet her own chances didn’t look all that good either. Even if they were put together, their forces would be puny. To treat with the Khan would be to delay the inevitable, nothing more. To wait and do nothing, and not act in accord with neighboring kingdoms, was to be devoured in turn, each afraid to stand up alone against the common enemy. It was fatal to be unwilling to ally with an old and not particularly friendly neighbor…it was the old dilemma. Even the Lemni had raided Windermere, not fifteen years ago.
There were too many petty nation-states, and too many tongues and creeds, too many peoples, and not all of them happy under a given flag. Some rulers were rather precarious on their thrones, and some of them knew it very well. Lowren laid it all out, starting with the basics of statecraft as it was practiced these days. Some of the precepts and some of the lessons sounded very familiar—like something her father might have said.
“And then comes along someone truly formidable—with a view to conquest and the means to do so.”
“Keep talking.” It wasn’t her kingdom to worry about or dispose of, but Theo had a point.
In truth, she was next in line of succession. Eleanora had no heirs.
“What exactly are we asking for, Lowren?” It was the first time she had spoken since he began.
“Well. I have a plan. As you might imagine.”
She clamped her mouth firmly shut, eyes narrow.
“I will ask for your word. We must keep this secret.” His eyes traveled to the door where the ladies in waiting had disappeared. “Just the fact that I was here would tell the Khan much.”
Eleanora bit her lip. He was right. The man had already dragged her into it—unless the secret could be kept.
She knew so little about Lowren, and yet everything that she had heard redounded to his credit as a king, a soldier and as a man. Her father had ended up buying off his father. All of their captives and hostages had been promptly returned, having some oddly good things to say about the humanity of their savage conquerors once you got to know them a little…
“What do you propose?”
“That I shall escape in the night from your bedchamber, Majesty.”
A bitter smiled crossed her face.
“It will be said that I disappointed you in love, but somehow overpowered my guards and escaped on the way to the block.”
“But of course.”
“It’s not your own people that matter, Majesty. It is the distorted view that will be transmitted across the seas by the very next commercial vessel to make the journey to Sinopus—or more importantly to the Khan’s palace at Artesphihan.”
By map, it was eleven or twelve hundred miles to the Khan’s capital. The queen was familiar enough with ocean commerce. It was, after all, the lifeblood of her kingdom. A ship, fully laden and with favorable winds might only be making six or eight knots. On a very good day, nine or ten.
Over the course of twenty-four hours, that was still a formidable distance. This was a good story and the news would travel fast. If we can’t keep the secret, then let us distort the truth.
“Assuming I don’t have hundreds of men outside that door, Kann and I, one or two others, are completely in your power, Majesty. I turn our fates over to you.”
What an extraordinary thing to say.
She regarded him for a long moment. He was a brave man, but she hadn’t had any doubts of that before, and all of that had just been hearsay. This was Lowren in the flesh—and now she’d had a glimpse into his mind.
It might not be enough, but it was all she had to go on at that particular moment in time.
“Tell us more, Lowren. Tell us much more.”
He talked about ships, and weapons, and men. He talked about horses and fodder. He talked about gold, and grain, and what it took to win a campaign. She and Eleanora had many questions. As Lowren explained, the nucleus of the deal he was proposing became clear. The only problem was one of mutual trust.
They talked far into the night. Finally she begged off on making any decision.
“We will consider the problem, Lowren.”
His face fell momentarily, but he took it with as much grace as he could muster.
“We must purify ourselves in mind and body before coming to any decision.” A few more facts wouldn’t hurt either. “This is not a decision to be made in haste.”
Theodelinda broke in.
“What she’s trying to tell you, Lowren, is that she must consult with her ministers.”
“I understand.” He gave Theodelinda a look. “All of your men will be returned unharmed—that includes the County guards. They’re being well treated.”
Kann spoke up, bringing out the bag of gold, a hundred and seventy-five gold pieces.
“This is yours, I believe. Your men will be released on the stroke of midnight.” Their guards would simply melt away at the appointed hour, making their way independently to a rendezvous point which he withheld from the ladies, discretion being the better part of valor.
Eleanora ignored the purse and he put it gently down on the table. Theo gave a soft snort, rolling her eyes and Kann grinned affably at her.
“Interestingly, Majesty, if we can get into your castle, we can get into Sinopus.” His eyes went from one to another, having no doubts about Lowren’s or his own abilities, nor the abilities of the Lemnian troops in general.
Theo just stared coldly at Lowren. Then her gaze shifted to the other one and the look softened in assessment. Lowren commanded the loyalty, possibly even the love, of such men.
It was a factor.
“You may go if you wish.”
Kann looked at Lowren, who nodded.
“Give us ten minutes, please, your Majesty.”
“You shall have it, although if there are any tricks, it might go very hard with you, Lowren.”
The one known as Kann, far more than a simple serjeant it would seem, furled the map and stowed it away in his shoulder bag. With one long, last look into Eleanora’s carefully-neutral gaze, Lowren and his companion turned on a nod and departed silently and swiftly. The heavy slab thumped softly closed and the bolt dropped. There was one last whisper of sound as they descended the stairs.
They were gone.
The pair of them stood looking at the door for quite some time.
Turning to each other, there wasn’t much to say.
“Well.”
“Well, yourself.”
But sooner or later, one of them would have to go out there and find out what had happened to the guard.
Chapter Four
They skedaddled down the stairs, with its curious absence of guards and men. Out the door and across the yard, feeling naked and exposed…into the cold hard shadows of slanting moonlight.
The boys were right there in front of the stables. The horses were saddled and their weapons slung from the pommel in the case of the horses provided for Lowren and Kann and the others. They strapped on the short swords that they favored, listening for any hint of detection or pursuit. Their bucklers were handed over and then they were ready.
Nothing but crickets and the far-off murmur of soldiers by the gatehouse.
“Right. We’re off.” They cantered to the gate, clods and dirt flying in the dim orange light of the exterior sconces.
Lowren, Kann, Bibb, Garvin and the others exited the castle by the simple expedient of riding up to the gate and waving a scroll at the men on duty. Still clad in the livery of the County, the door was half open before one of the guards thought to reach for the papers. Kann pulled them away jokingly and then handed them over with an exaggerated flourish. His timing was impeccable.
“Yeah, yeah, slow down!” The other guards hauled away at the foot-thick gate halves. “Idiot.”
The Conqueror Page 4
