by N. C. Reed
“None of us are,” Nidiad ordered, rising. “Captain, set the guard and let’s to bed. We’ve hard riding to do yet and Master Feng’s ‘exercise’ will take some time in the morning. Best we be rested.”
Willard saluted and called for his sergeant. Parno sank carefully into his camp chair, sighing in relief as he did so.
“You have great potential, My Prince,” Feng said. “And you desire knowledge. Such is the true mark of the wise. I have known many great leaders in my lifetime. All were such men.”
“I’m not a great leader, Cho,” Parno smiled, “just a black sheep. A black mark upon the name McLeod.”
“Wool from the black sheep is many times more valuable than that of the others, My Prince,” Feng said quietly. “Do not underestimate yourself.” With that Feng went to his tent. Darvo and Parno sat alone in the failing light of the fire.
“He’s quite the man, Parno me lad,” Darvo observed quietly. “And a teacher of rare value. You have made a good choice there.”
“You seem to have changed your opinion rather quickly,” Parno observed quietly. “Wasn’t because he threw me around so easily was it?”
“Well,” Nidiad smiled at the memory, “I admit that might have played a small part in my decision. But it’s the bearing of the man strikes me hardest. There’s a man knows what he can do and make no mistake, I doubt there’s a more dangerous man in all of Soulan.”
“I’m of the same mind,” Parno nodded. “If he can teach our men even a third of what he knows, our soldiers will be near unstoppable on the battlefield.”
“An arrow will stop anyone, lad, regardless of rank, knowledge, or skill,” Darvo reminded him. “But I agree in spirit. Soldiers with Feng’s abilities will be a force to be reckoned with, no doubt.”
*****
The morning saw the entire company, even Darvo Nidiad, engaged in Cho Feng’s exercises. The soldiers were skeptical, to say the least, when the first command was to sit upon the ground, one leg thrust forward, the other pulled behind.
“Now, lean toward the extended leg with the opposite hand, attempting to touch the toe of the foot. You will feel the leg stretch to accommodate this action. Likewise you will feel the extended arm and it’s shoulder stretch slightly. Go no further should you encounter real pain. Such must begin slowly, progressing as the body adjusts.”
The soldiers obeyed, stretching first one leg, then the other. Then came what Feng referred to as ‘calisthenics’. More stretching intermingled with jumping, bending and pushing up from the ground. Finally, after nearly an hour, Feng called the class over.
Groaning troopers pulled themselves erect, heading for the meal the cook had prepared. Soon they were in the saddle, riding east. Their next destination was the city of Bingham, in the Alba province.
Parno had a feeling that they would all be in remarkably better condition when they arrived. If they survived.
CHAPTER THREE
The small command made good time venturing across the southern half of the kingdom, following one of the ancient trade routes left from before the fall. No one knew who had built the great roads, but the McLeod family had invested a great deal of Crown Treasury over the centuries to keep the roads serviceable. Travelers who had ventured to Norland had reported similar roads crisscrossing the northern land as well.
The trip to Bingham had taken most of three weeks. As promised, Cho Feng’s ‘exercises’ had indeed proven to ease the pains of travel on horseback. The soldiers were no longer grumbling about the instructor’s conditioning program. Instead their ire had a new target.
Running.
Two weeks after the basic exercise programs had started, Feng announced that the command would begin running each morning after their stretches and workouts. The soldiers, all cavalrymen, objected instantly.
“We’ve no need of running, Master Feng. We ride into battle.”
“We’re not in the habit of running away from a fight, Master Feng.”
Despite their protests, the men obeyed. And found, to their amazement, that the running was at least as beneficial as the exercises had been. Already they were leaner, harder and breathed easier than before. They also found that working with the high-spirited mounts favored by all cavalry men was no longer a great and exhausting chore.
“I’d not of believed it,” Nidiad shook his head as he, Parno, Karls Willard, and Cho Feng sat beneath the fly of Parno’s tent. “I feel at least ten years younger. A month ago I was set upon retirement, now I feel like I’m back in the Nasil Lancers.”
“Good exercise can keep one young far longer than without, Colonel,” Feng said. “In my homeland, active soldiers serve in the ranks well into their sixties.”
“Sixties?” Willard exclaimed. “Why, that’s incredible!”
“Not at all, Captain,” Feng replied. “When one’s body and spirit are in harmony, one can do much more in his advanced years than those who have not made the necessary training and conditioning a part of their lives.”
*****
The column was approaching an outlying village of Bingham when they heard the shouting.
“What the devil is that?” Willard asked, reigning his horse to a stop and motioning for the following cavalry to do the same.
“Sounds like a riot, almost,” Nidiad said, ears straining to hear more.
“Or a raid,” Parno said grimly. “Let’s see.”
“Forward!” Willard shouted, and the column, Parno, Nidiad, and Karls Willard in the lead, moved at a gallop into the village.
*****
The village was nearly in a riot, it turned out. Most of the town’s people seemed to be hovering around the town square. A massive bonfire had been erected, but not yet lit. In the middle of that structure, tied to a pole, was a somewhat grizzled man, howling like a banshee.
“What goes on here?” Parno demanded from the nearest man.
“Burning a witch,” the man replied without looking at his questioner. “Warlock or wizard I guess, seeing as he’s a man.”
“Witch? Wizard?” Willard was fighting the urge to laugh, while Nidiad was already laughing.
“A witch!” the old soldier roared in laughter. “Oh, deliver me from the ignorant of the world, even amongst my own!” Parno wasn’t so amused.
“Who’s in charge?” Parno demanded.
“Priest yonder,” the man pointed toward the bonfire. “Him and the constable.”
Parno kicked his horse, pushing him through the crowd. Willard motioned for the soldiers to spread out around the crowd, then he, Feng and Nidiad, along with five cavalrymen, followed Parno into the crowd.
Parno arrived at the fire just as the priest was finishing his rant, working the crowd into a fevered pitch. The arrival of the horsemen took some of the steam from him, but he looked up defiantly.
“Who are you, and what business do you have interrupting this proceeding?”
“Who are you, sir,” Parno snapped, “that you take it upon yourself to burn another at the stake as if we were ignorant savages?”
“I am the Priest of the local church, young man, fully empowered by the King himself to tend to matters such as this and have the backing of the constable as well!” The priest shot back, his voice carrying across the crowd. At his words, the crowd once again began shouting.
“You sir, are a liar,” Parno said savagely. “Never has the King authorized any but the King’s Bench and their subordinates to dispense justice in the Kingdom of Soulan.” He glanced at the constable. “And you give weight of your office to this travesty, then, constable?”
“You’re overstepping your bounds, young visitor,” the constable grated. “Let’s have no more talk from you, less you want to spend the night in the cells.”
“And who is it that will put me there, constable,” Parno asked with a smile. “Yourself?”
“This is none of your affair, you interloper. Be gone or we’ll . . .” the priest began, but Nidiad moved his horse forward in an instant, cutting him
off.
“Mind your tongue, or I’ll have it out right here and now!” Nidiad snarled. “This is Prince Parno McLeod you’re speaking to!”
That put a whole new light on things. The constable went deathly white, knowing that he was in trouble. The priest too, went pale, realizing that he was trapped in a pit of his own making. He had assured the people that he had the full authority to prosecute and then persecute anyone accused of witchcraft. Now his lies had caught up with him.
“I want the priest and the constable taken into custody,” Parno ordered. “We’ll take them to Bingham for trial before the bench.” Soldiers began to move into the area, still astride their mounts. Parno turned to face the crowd.
“Go home, all of you!” he ordered. “They’ll be no burning here today, nor any other. This is unlawful, and any who remain will face the King’s Justice!”
The crowd melted away in record time. No one doubted that the speaker was, indeed, Prince Parno, though none had ever seen him. It was enough that he acted like a prince and that’s what mattered.
Satisfied that the crowd was breaking up, Parno dismounted. Easing up to the still howling man, he drew his knife.
“Be still!” Parno snarled, and cut the ropes. The man fell against Parno, nearly in tears.
“Thank you, milord, thank you! Had you not happened along when you did, they’d have burned me alive!”
“I’m afraid that’s likely,” Parno nodded, anger still fresh from the abuse of power he had seen. “Who are you, man? And what have you done to arouse such ire among these people?”
“It was the holy man who did the ire rousing, milord,” the man snarled. “Any he falls afoul of, or threatens his hold over the village, come to no good. I am Roda Finn, milord, late of the King’s University in Bingham.”
“Almost very late,” Nidiad observed. “How come you to be in this fix, Finn?”
“I am smarter than the priest, good sir, that’s how,” Finn said with a sniff. “I retired here to work on my projects, you see. The priest enjoys, or did enjoy, perhaps I should say, a large degree of power. Some of my projects here have aided more than one poor farmer, which in turn led to some small degree of popularity for me. The priest cannot stand for any challenge to his power, so he accused me of sorcery, and convinced the townsfolk, and that witless oaf of a constable, that I should be burned alive for my ‘crimes’.”
“And just what have you done that has aided the poor folk of this community that was so quickly forgotten?” Parno asked with a grin.
“I’ve not aided everyone, milord, only those few who asked. Nor have I charged any monies or goods for my services, before you ask. One small thing I did was erect a windmill on a small ranch not far from here. A simple device that harnesses the power of the wind to pump water from a deep well. The stock man there now has an ample supply of water year around.”
“Sounds reasonable enough,” Nidiad nodded. “We use them in the Tinsee province as well.”
“Of course you do, sir,” Finn snorted. “You are not ignorant savages who, spurred by a power mad priest, see evil in anything that is beyond your simple knowledge. Unfortunately, some areas of the Kingdom are not so enlightened.”
“Was this all you did, then, Roda Finn?” Parno asked.
“No. I also developed a supply of ancient powder to help another man clear stumps from a new field. Used with a length of fuse, one can pour the powder under the stump, light the fuse, and the stump is blown from the ground by the force of the powder exploding. I’m afraid that’s probably what gave the priest the leverage he needed.”
“Exploding?” Parno asked.
“Yes milord,” Finn replied. “The ancient formula was used for many things, including warfare. Mixed in large quantities it has great power. It can also be used to propel objects for great distance. Objects that can also be made to explode when they strike their target.”
“Indeed,” Nidiad muttered softly, glancing at Parno. “Such a thing might well be . . . useful, milord.”
“Indeed it might,” Parno smiled. He turned to the scientist, now trying vainly to straighten his clothing. “Tell me, Roda Finn. Are you interested in pursuing your, ‘work’, elsewhere? North to the Tinsee, perhaps? As a member of my staff?”
“Staff?” Finn said, halting his brushing. “You wish me to work for you?”
“I do,” Parno nodded. “In exchange, I will fund your work.” The scientist’s eyes glowed at that. “But you will need to help me in developing these ideas of yours to military uses. A fair trade?”
Finn said nothing for a moment, clearly considering. After a long moment, he nodded.
“A fair trade, milord,” he said. “I will help you, and you will keep me safe from ignorant savages. One brush with a bonfire is quite enough.”
“Indeed I will,” Parno said with a laugh. “Come then, Master Finn. Let us gather your things.”
*****
Finn, it turned out, had a good bit to gather. The fussy scientist insisted on carrying everything he owned with him, as he planned to ‘never return to this backwards place’. Parno laughed as the former professor supervised the soldiers loading his belongings. His fussing and muttering turned to outright jabbering when it came time to load his ‘laboratory’.
“Mister Finn,” Parno said finally, “might I get a word in private?” Parno could tell that Finn’s constant attention was wearing thin on the soldiers.
“Certainly, milord,” Finn said, coming to Parno’s side.
“Roda, I know you are concerned about your things, and I understand that you must still be shaken by the events of this morning. But my soldiers are not accustomed to dealing with someone of your background and while they are not, perhaps, the scholars you are accustomed to dealing with, they are intelligent men. Tell them once what to do and then be silent. If an object needs special care, then point that out, but do not hover over them as a hawk would a chicken. Understand?”
Finn’s face flushed red at the reprimand, but then he looked at the soldiers. In his absence they were still working. He noted they took great care with his equipment, books and parchments, and they packed his goods as carefully as they might were they their own. He looked back to Parno rather shame faced.
“I am sorry, milord,” he said contritely. “I am not . . . I am unused to having skilled help. Many of my things are rare and likely would prove difficult, and expensive, to replace. I’m afraid it is an old habit. One I see I will need to break myself of.”
Parno smiled at that, pleased with Finn’s reaction. He had half expected the professor to respond poorly to criticism and was pleased to be wrong. He wanted Finn on good terms with the soldiers. If even half of what the man claimed were possible, it would be extremely helpful to the young prince. He reached into his pocket and pulled a handful of coins from his purse.
“Take this,” Parno instructed Finn, placing the coin into Finn’s hand, “and when we reach Bingham, buy a round, or two, for the men who are loading for you. Tell them what a good job they did and how much you appreciate it.”
“Why?” Finn asked, confused. “They are following your orders are they not? Why is it necessary to buy . . . .” Finn trailed off as Parno raised a hand.
“They are soldiers, Master Finn,” the prince replied, his voice taking on a slightly sharper edge. “In the world you are accustomed to, I know that hirelings do their work because you pay them. But these are fighting men, Roda, not menial servants. They are following my orders, but I will also buy them a drink tonight for doing what they, and I, consider extra duty. If you are to become part of our outfit, you would do well to learn how we do things.”
“And they did help me save your life, after all, if you recall.”
Again Roda Finn blushed red, now from shame. He did recall.
“I’m sorry, milord. You are right, I have much to learn.”
“Not as much as you think, Roda,” Parno smiled. “And not nearly as much as we have to learn from you.”
As the column entered Bingham, several heads turned to follow the soldiers and their captives. Parno inquired of a passing constable of the location of the Justice Hall, and directed the column in that direction. The priest was protesting his treatment, sounding off loud and long for the people on the streets.
The captive constable, however, was quiet. He had allowed himself to be used by the priest and knew he was about to pay a stiff price. Clan McLeod was founded on law, justice, and equality of all its subjects in that law. As a constable, he enjoyed a position of trust, which he had violated. His punishment would be correspondingly more severe.
Willard signaled a halt before the Justice Hall. Parno, Willard, Feng, and Nidiad all dismounted, as did four troopers. These four took possession of the prisoners, guiding them none too gently into the doorway.
