by Lee Duigon
Ilfil scowled. “It seems like wisdom,” he conceded, “but I hope it doesn’t turn around and sting us when we least expect it.”
“If we’re going to have a battle here,” said Chutt, “we can have it any time we please. Don’t be in a hurry! You must learn to understand these things, my friend. After all, when all is said and done, you’re going to be a lord of Obann and a very, very wealthy man.”
Roshay had never met Lord Chutt before, although he’d seen him and heard much about him. He remembered Chutt as a rather pudgy man, but he wasn’t pudgy anymore. As they shook hands, the baron sized him up: a hard man who would be very shrewd and canny when it came to getting what he wanted.
He came with two of his captains, an Obannese soldier from Market City and a Wallekki chieftain in a headdress of black and white plumes: a renegade and a brigand. Chutt introduced them. “This is Captain Born, commander of the regular army garrison at Market City, and this is my ally, Chief Ilfil. Gentlemen, this is Roshay Bault, who defeated a great army of the Zephites when they attacked his town.” And so Chutt adroitly sidestepped the sticky issue of Roshay’s proper title.
Too late, the baron realized he’d made a mistake in letting Chutt into his camp. “I’ve lost a rook for nothing!” thought the chess player in him. He’d allowed Chutt to have a good look at the gold: now Chutt would take it no matter what he had to do.
“My dear sir,” said Chutt, “what we have here is a practically infinite supply of money! Such a windfall as this has never come to Obann, not in all her history. It’s enough to rebuild the Temple, rebuild the Palace, fortify every town along the river, and raise and equip armies able to defeat the Thunder King—with enough left over to repair all the damage from his last invasion.”
“I’m aware of that,” Roshay said. “That’s why I came here to collect it.”
“With these few hundred men? It would take you a whole year just to load it onto wagons! It will be a major project even for my thousands of men.
“I think you must agree that this gold belongs in the treasury of Obann, in the capital. As a lawfully elected member of the High Council, all I seek to do is put it there! Why should you oppose me?”
“Because you’re a liar,” Roshay thought, but he only said, “First Prester Orth does not wish to rebuild the Temple.”
“Surely that is a matter for the whole College of Presters to decide,” Chutt said. “We needn’t concern ourselves with it. I will bring up many carts—they’re a day or two behind me. I have the manpower to remove the gold—and it’s only a matter of time before the Thunder King tries to get it back. He may well send a force that will be too strong to resist, even for me.”
“First he’ll have to get past King Ryons and his army.”
Chutt sighed. “Although I don’t recognize the boy as king, there being no lawful basis for a monarchy, I do admire him for the valiant part he’s played. And I grieve for him. His march into the East was an act of folly that can only have one outcome. He may be already dead.”
“That’s in God’s hands,” said Roshay, “and I believe in God.”
“Of course, of course—and so do I! But in the meantime, the gold must be brought all the way back to Obann. I can do that, and you can’t. There’s no reason under the sun why we should quarrel over it! I’m only carrying out my lawful duty as high councilor in charge of revenue.”
“I can think of a reason,” Roshay said. “I believe you mean to kill us, one way or another. We’d be fools to come out from our defenses.”
“But I don’t want to kill you!” Chutt cried. “I haven’t come here to kill anyone. We encountered a body of your men down below, rounding up wagons as you ordered. Not one of them has been harmed. Once we ascertained what they were doing, we released them all to carry out their mission. You’ll see them soon enough.”
“Then why don’t I just stay here and wait for them?”
“Because, while we’re waiting, the Thunder King may come!” Chutt leaned forward on the stump that served him as a chair. His two captains watched him intently. “Dear sir, if I meant to attack you, what could possibly stop me from doing it? You can’t put your men back to work; they have to man your defenses. If you think we mean you harm, you can’t let my men in to join in the work. And so no work gets done.
“As disagreeable as it is to me to say so, I must tell you that unless you let my men work here, so we can remove the gold before the Thunder King can send an army for it, I shall have no alternative but to attack you. This gold will guarantee the safety of our country, and that’s more important than your life or mine. Of course you can stay and help us in the work, or you can lead your men back home to Ninneburky. But one way or another, I must take charge of this gold.”
Roshay was tempted to give the order to have Chutt and his two captains slain on the spot. Leaderless, what would his followers do? He could at least take the leaders hostage.
But then he thought, “Blood money! That’s what it does. Much blood has been shed for it, and now it works to shed more.” The gold was seductive. Even now it was seducing him, King Ryons’ man, to commit murder. This was a parley. What he had just imagined himself doing was nothing less than treason. He ground his teeth, disgusted with himself.
What was it Obst so often said? “Walk by faith”—not faith in gold, but faith in God.
And so the baron said something he never thought he’d say.
“I’ll surrender this gold to you, Lord Chutt—all of it—if you can convince me that you will not attack us when we come out of our defenses. I don’t know how you can guarantee that, but maybe you can think of something.”
Roshay’s captains flinched. Only Kadmel showed no sign of surprise. But Lord Chutt fairly beamed.
“That’s talking sense!” he said. “Naturally, we’ll give you hostages—”
“The three of you will do very nicely,” Roshay said.
Ilfil the Wallekki reached for his knife, but Chutt caught his wrist.
“You can’t have us, dear sir,” Chutt said. “That would leave no one to command my army, and then I couldn’t guarantee their good behavior. Indeed, I’d say you might be better off without hostages. If you’re going to trust me this far, you may as well trust me all the way. You have my solemn oath that you and your men will be allowed to go in peace, and unmolested.”
Roshay doubted Chutt’s Wallekki were so attached to their commander that fears for his safety would restrain them, should they choose to attack. “They can kill us all, no matter what we do,” he thought. “What would they care for hostages?”
“I think my men will be too busy admiring the gold, once they get in here,” Chutt added, “even to think of chasing you down the mountain. They’d have nothing to gain by it.”
Roshay nodded. “Let the blood money do its work on Chutt, not me,” he thought. “I’m well rid of it.”
“Take your oath in front of your men and mine,” he said, “and we’ll be on our way.” He turned to Ilfil. “Will your people abide by such an oath?”
“I will take the oath myself,” said the chief, “and cut the throat of any man who breaks it.” Martis could have told the baron that Wallekki chiefs set great store by their oaths. No oath-breaker could remain a chief for long.
“And you?” Roshay asked Born.
He shrugged. “I’m a soldier. I obey my commander’s orders.”
They made arrangements. Chutt and Ilfil stood in the space between the army and the camp and swore to let the men of Ninneburky go peacefully. Chutt’s army withdrew a little ways and dismounted. The baron ordered his men to gather up their gear, saddle their horses, and prepare to leave. A crew pulled the deadwood out of the ditch, while another tore a gap in the barricade.
Leading his men on horseback, with the disappointed townsmen bringing up the rear on foot, Roshay Bault rode forth from his defense, sword in hand. Enemies lined either side of the road. As the baron’s men passed through their midst, there was nothing to be he
ard but the snorting of the horses, the clip-clop of their hooves, and the jangle of equipment. Roshay prayed silently that he would live to see his wife and children. But none of Chutt’s men moved or even spoke. They hardly looked at the retreating militia. They all seemed to have their heads turned upward, where they knew the gold lay waiting for them.
It seemed to take all afternoon, but it didn’t, for them to pass out of sight and hearing of Chutt’s men. Kadmel spurred up next to the baron.
“They’re not following us,” he said.
“Good.”
“They’re crazy for the gold, sir. Their mouths are watering. It does seem a shame to give it up to them after all our hard work.”
“It’s the Thunder King’s gold, Kadmel. It wasn’t ours to give away.” Roshay let out a long sigh. He suddenly felt very tired. “It’s dirty money. The rightful owners have been robbed or murdered. I don’t believe that gold will be good to anyone who tries to keep it. It certainly wasn’t good to the Thunder King whose bones lie at the bottom of it.”
Down at the end of the line, Donn Decker grumbled about the baron’s cowardice. Two men marching with him beat him into silence.
CHAPTER 38
Hold or Die
Helki watched from cover as Chutt’s army halted before Roshay Bault’s defenses, and listened as the baron exchanged words with the enemy. Helki didn’t know who Chutt was, but surely he was a man of Obann. Other than King Ryons himself, who in Obann had such a host of Wallekki to follow him? And why were those Wallekki mixed with Obannese soldiers?
The commander, whoever he was, along with two others, went into the baron’s camp for a parley. The crows settled into the treetops, waiting for a battle. “They sound as confused as I am,” Helki thought. Had they sensed more surely that fighting would break out, they would have made more noise.
That man leading the Wallekki had called himself a high councilor of Obann. “I thought they were all dead,” Helki mused. “Could there be a new council?”
He was still watching when the baron led his men out of the camp. At any moment he expected the Wallekki to pounce on them and was surprised when they didn’t. Would they wait until the militiamen had passed and then give chase? But they didn’t do that, either.
The Wallekki’s commander reappeared, standing on the barricade.
“The gold is ours!” he cried. “Come and clear away these obstacles!” When their chiefs repeated it in the Wallekki tongue, the mass of men whooped like drunken witches and surged forward to obey.
So Roshay Bault had given up the gold! Helki would have expected him to fight for it. But it wasn’t worth dying for, was it? The baron had used it to purchase his men’s lives. That was only good sense.
The Heathen tore down the barricade, hurled the deadwood out of the ditch, singing and cheering, shrill songs of triumph. But the crows stayed right where they were, quiet now, waiting. They didn’t think things were quite what they seemed, and Helki respected their judgment. As long as they stayed, he would stay.
Chutt and Ilfil ran to the nearest stack of golden sheets.
“It is all as you said, O Chutt!” cried the Wallekki. “We are all rich men!”
Chutt couldn’t speak. The gold dazzled his eyes and stunned his soul. And there was still plenty more of it, incalculably more, shining amid the tumbled mass of logs that had been the Thunder King’s golden hall.
“With just a fraction of this wealth, I could make myself king of all the Wallekki,” Ilfil said. That jarred Chutt’s mind back to work.
“The Thunder King would only come and take it from you,” he said. “But on this side of the mountains you’ll be safe. You’ll have to settle for being a great lord of Obann, my friend—with a palace, slaves and servants, a stable full of fine horses, and gems and jewels for your toys.”
“I bow to your wisdom,” said Ilfil.
Born had gone back to organize the removal of the barricade. Some of the men had already hurt themselves. Before another hour passed, they had undone enough of the defenses to let the whole army come through. They had to lead their horses carefully across the ditch, but with the deadwood removed, it posed no problem.
As soon as they crossed, the Wallekki charged to see the gold. They shoved each other out of the way. As members of various tribes, some of them hereditary enemies, they weren’t gentle with one another. The Obannese troops came in for more than their share of the jostling, and they resented it. Someone drew a sword and struck. A man fell dead. And suddenly there were many swords flashing and spears thrusting, and cheering turned to cursing, cries of woe.
“Stop it, stop!” Chutt cried. The men couldn’t hear him. “Ilfil, make them stop!”
But it took a long time to restore order, and the crows had their feast, after all.
Helki waited to see what would happen next.
All morning the Hosa taunted the Zamzu. But the Zamzu wouldn’t come up the hill, and King Ryons’ army wouldn’t come down.
“We ought to charge them,” Shaffur said, dissenting from the other chiefs. “We would scatter them like dead leaves.”
“Maybe,” said Chagadai. “But if we don’t—for the Zamzu are not men who scatter easily—and we’re locked in a battle with them when the Zephites come, well, we would be caught between two forces and likely to be burned.”
“Chieftains, stand still,” said Obst, “and wait for deliverance by the hand of the Lord! We are here by His command. He has not forgotten us.” And Shaffur was overruled by the votes of all the other chieftains and had to make the best of it.
Ryons didn’t like just standing on the hill, but he didn’t want to rush headlong into a battle, either. He’d heard stories of the Zamzu and their ferocity. The smallest of them, he could see with his own eyes, was bigger than the biggest men in his army. The Zamzu had formed up with their Dahai allies on their flanks, and the Dahai were no mean fighters. Ryons wished he had his own Dahai with him, Tughrul Lomak and his men. They might have something to say to their countrymen to move them to desert the Zamzu. But there was no profit in wishing for that.
Early in the afternoon, a lookout on the other side of the hill called out the dreaded news: “The Zeph are coming!” Ryons and Gurun walked over to see, along with Chagadai and Tiliqua.
The Zeph came in a mass, with bulls’ horns on their heads. The Zamzu couldn’t see them because the big hill was in the way. Looth’s archers ran to take good positions: the first Zephites up the hill would die from poisoned arrows.
“I can’t believe they’ve turned on us,” Ryons said. “Not after the healing of their chief.”
“That’s the Zephites for you,” said Tiliqua. “Not that they were ever on our side, my king.” But Gurun said, “God healed that man, and God is always right.”
The Zeph made no attempt to assault the hilltop. Instead, they turned aside and went up another hill perhaps a quarter of a mile away. Up they went like ants, all of them. It was a long, low hill, and when they were all gathered on top of it, they raised a battle cry.
That was when the Zamzu finally noticed them, and when they did, they cheered loud and long, waving swords and spears and clubs to salute their unexpected help. Ryons looked for Jiharr, but couldn’t pick him out of the crowd.
“Now we face enemies in two directions,” Chagadai said. “That man Jiharr knows that we have archers. That must be why he hasn’t charged us.”
“The Zeph have a saying, ‘Arrows don’t kill,’” said Tiliqua. “Still, no one wants to get shot, eh? But they’ll get more than wounds from Attakott arrows.”
“I think Jiharr knows that,” said Chagadai. “Oh, well—the question of strategy that faces us is an easy one to answer. All there is to do is to hold this hill. Hold it or die.”
They would have been surprised by the news Foxblood received from his scouts that same day. Contrary to all experience, the Zamzu had abandoned their fort and retreated, making for the lowlands at the edge of Abnak country.
His warriors
danced when they heard the news, but Foxblood was thoughtful.
“They haven’t retreated because they’re afraid to fight. I’m sure of that,” he said to Orth. “They just didn’t have enough men to resist us. I suppose they expect some of our people to drift away, if there’s no fight in the offing.”
“Do you think they will?” asked Orth.
The chieftain shrugged. “This is something new—an Abnak army,” he said. “Never before have so many warriors from so many clans come together. It may never happen again. The Thunder King had nothing like this to deal with when he first invaded our land.
“So we must make all the speed we can, chasing the Zamzu down to the low country before too many of our warriors leave us. But there are still more men joining us than are leaving. Pray that it continues, Et-taa-naa-qiqu! We’ll need them all.”
