by Chris Hechtl
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Wanda sighed, rolling her shoulders. One of the great things about working the hours she did was that she didn't have to put up with a crowd when she wanted to eat. The downside was she either got leftovers or she heated an MRE. After what happened to Perry she stuck to MREs even though they stuck to her gut like a lead weight.
She stirred the mystery meat stew thinking blue thoughts for a moment. She looked up as footfalls approached. Zara stood nearby.
“Yes, princess?” she said then couldn't help but yawn. “Sorry,” she said shrugging.
“You’re tired,” the young princess said, nodding. “It's to be expected.” She adjusted the sash on her kimono robe then sat in a chair nearby.
“Yeah, I've got a lot on my plate,” Wanda frowned.
“Not from the looks of it,” Zara said indicating the MRE. “That's the food we had on the trip here right?”
Wanda nodded. “Yeah, it's high in calories though. Military rations to keep them fueled in combat,” she explained. She grimaced and played with the stew some more. “Not quite what I want before going to bed, but it works.”
Zara frowned then looked over to the kitchen door. She cleared her throat then clapped her hands loudly. After a moment a sleepy boy came out rubbing his eyes. His eyes widened at the sight of the princess.
“Y-y-your majesty?” he stutter asked, hastening to her.
“Food for two. Make it quick,” she said nodding. The boy nodded and bolted for the door.
“Kinda hoity toity but okay, I'll roll with it,” Wanda said sitting back. “I know lords have servants and retainers, but I thought the grapevine said you don't have slaves?” she asked looking over to Zara.
Zara shook her head. “No. My ancestor, Herod the great put a stop to slavery.”
“Ah, but you have serfs. That's another form of slavery, just with a different name,” Wanda said gently. Sue gave her a warning look. Wanda ignored it and then shrugged to her when Zara wasn't looking their way.
“No, in truth a serf may go where he or she pleases. They can leave if a Dominus is too brutal, or if the land they rent becomes impossible for them to maintain,” Zara frowned. She turned and lifted a tapestry near the throne.
“Here it is,” she said. She tugged the tapestry aside exposing a tablet mounted into the wall. It was ancient, written in various languages. “This was said to have been carved by Herod himself,” she said proudly. She ran her hand over the dusty tablet.
Wanda got up and came over. “My Latin is a bit rusty, and don't get me started on this language,” she said, looking at it. The column on the left was in Latin, the one on the right was in Chinese or some other cuneiform. The middle was a mix of the two. She was curious as to why. “We need to show this to the others. Why is it covered?”
“My great grandfather,” Zara said, straightening the tapestry once more. She pointed to a series of battle scenes woven in red and gold on the large cloth.
“Ah. Still, the tablets look important. Part of your heritage,” Wanda said nodding. She walked over to her electronic tablet and picked it up. “Can we see that again?” she asked holding the tablet up to expose the camera.
Zara nodded and pulled the tapestry back. Wanda snapped a couple of photos, and then another of Zara. “What are you doing?” Zara asked after the last flash.
“Taking some pictures for history. Hope the system can handle it. If it can't I'll sick Sydney on it later.”
Zara nodded and pulled the tapestry on the other side over to expose a second and third tablet. “What more?” Wanda asked, about to put the tablet down.
“Yes,” Zara nodded. Wanda took the pictures and then frowned. She ran her hands over a chipped and faded stone.
“It's interesting that someone used gold inlay to make the lettering pop and glitter. It really stands out and glitters in the firelight.”
“In truth I had never seen it that way before,” Zara said nodding. Wanda took the tapestry from her so she could step back and admire it. Zara nodded. “I see what you mean. They have significant importance to our people. Perhaps we should expose them to the light of day once more.”
“What happened here?” Wanda said, running her hand over an area that was chipped at. Someone had cut away at the gilded lettering, removing the gold.
“It would seem someone has been stealing the gold,” Zara said frowning darkly. She came closer and ran her hands over it. She moved, blocking their light. She looked around for a torch but Wanda stopped her with her hand on her arm.
“No, a torch near these dust dry fabric things is a bad idea. Real bad.” She tapped at her tablet and the screen lit. “Here. We'll have to wait till tomorrow to see more.” She ran the light over the lettering.
Zara traced a delicate finger under the lettering, mouthing the words she could still read. Her scowl grew darker. “Much of this is as Ryans has said. He has said things we have long forgotten. Things... I am ashamed that he had to remind us of this. It was here under our nose the entire time. I will have a talk with mother and father. We definitely need to expose this for our people to see. If only to keep them from destroying their own heritage.”
Wanda nodded. They heard a clatter of pots and turned to see a cook and an apprentice coming in. “Well, midnight rations are served. Care for a snack milady?”
Zara smiled and nodded, following her back to their seats. She frowned though, looking over her shoulder to the tapestries.
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Ryans got up and stretched. He'd been up till nearly four a.m. and it was well past dawn now. He ate a quick MRE, and grimaced. He'd need a shower in the camper later, that was for sure.
He left his quarters and made his way down the spiral stairs to the main floor. He turned a corner and ran into Perry walking down the hall.
“What the hell? Should you even be out of bed?” Ryans asked. Perry gave him a dirty look. “What? Just asking,” he said, hands up.
“Well, don't. Doc said I'm okay as long as I stay off my feet.” Perry croaked out. He coughed a little.
“You don't sound it,” Ryans said shaking his head. “Try to take it easy for a while will you? Galloway, Paris, and Waters have you covered. And no matter how many times I tell you, this time let’s not have a repeat. Don't take food from strangers.”
“Now you tell me,” Perry snorted, looking disgusted.
“Sorry, thought you knew already.”
“Well, I do now,” Perry coughed. “Let’s go chat. I've got to catch up on what I missed,” he croaked out.
“I'll talk, you listen,” Ryans replied.
Ryans grimaced, looking out the window an hour later. It was just barely noon. “Who the hell is that?” he asked. Perry looked then grunted.
“Someone who's going to get their ass chewed,” He grunted as he looked. “Or not.” A fat elderly man got off a branack. The man was dressed for riding, but he had a man holding a standard. It was festooned with ribbons and pennants.
Elric the champion came over and embraced the man. They laughed, thumping each other's backs.
“Looks like that general they mentioned is here,” Perry frowned. “Great, more brass. Well, it was fun while it lasted.” He flicked a paper in disgust. “What's his name anyway?”
“Decius Pendragon I think,” Ryans answered, not looking up.
“You're kidding me... okay, you’re not. What people go through to name their kids,” Perry coughed then sighed. “Damn, hard to talk,” he choked out. He grabbed a glass and got a drink of beer.
“Better watch that, I think those two will be a handful.”
“True, and I'd rather get my liquor first hand, not second,” Perry snorted. Elric was rip roaring drunk and turning about laughing and back slapping the general. The general seemed to be reciprocating the treatment.
“What?”
“You'll see,” he waved. “Since they're making nice and shit, let’s go look over that map again.”
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“Castle?” he asked eying the map. “Yeah, its' like that one Scottish castle back home. It's weird; it's near the ocean and has a natural moat. The castle is on an island in the middle of the bay. It has a narrow zig zag path to it that's only usable when the tide is out. When the tide comes in, it's gone.”
“Nice. So this is the southern castle....ah. Yes, I see. That's why he's not hooking south. With something like that, it'd be damn near impregnable. Playing race the clock with the tide wouldn't work.”
“Right. So that leaves the northern villages, the hills between us and them, a couple of small knight's keeps, one of which we went to and then these two small keeps here and here.” He pointed.
“We passed them on the way here in the dark. They were manned but not by many people.” Perry said hoarsely nodding.
“So we can't draw on their levies for reinforcements. Great,” Ryans sighed. “I take it they're there to protect the pass?” he asked.
“Yes and no, also to protect the surrounding villages in case of animal attack. The villages have wooden or stone palisades, those that have access to either material. Some even have moats. But that doesn't protect them if something big and hungry comes over the mountains.”
“Ah, good to know,” he nodded.
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“Lieutenant Perry, Dominus Ryans I have the honor to introduce Dominus Pendragon, Earl of New Ulster, slayer of the hound, General of the Imperium's armies.”
“And all around good guy,” Perry muttered as the herald withdrew. The fat man entered. He was dressed in a modified Roman general's uniform. He had a blood red tunic on, gold sash, leather kilt, maroon cape with silver chain, and a Roman style helmet complete with head crest. Strapped to his hip was a gilded short sword. His cape was weighed down. He had it wrapped around his left arm as he entered. A herald followed him in carrying a pennant with the Imperium crest on it. It was tall; he had to bend it to get it in the door. It had a basilisk skull on top of it. At no time did the man let the rich red, purple, and gold fabric touch the flagstones.
“The King has informed me you are to aide me in command of the army in his absence. Most irregular,” the general said, jowls flopping in annoyance. His cheeks were red, Ryans wasn't sure if it was anger or from drinking or the travel. He rubbed at a stain on his blood red tunic. The golden sash had a few stains on it as well.
Ryans and Perry glanced at each other then shrugged. Ryans smiled. “Since we're using our technology to outfit your army, it's only fitting.”
The general harrumphed in irritation. “And what do you know of war?” he demanded.
Perry looked at Ryans and chuckled. Ryans waved the man over. “Come on over and we'll show you,” he said pulling his laptop out.
Chapter 9
“You're saying we didn't do it?” Art’ur demanded, staring at Uuôden. Uuôden shook his head. Art’ur pursed his lips in thought. “None of our people are in the keep?”
“No majesty, we have only four spies in the capital and they have elected to continue their positions.”
“Cowards,” the King snarled, staring off at the duchy. “Cowards and fools the lot.”
“To be fair majesty two are women. Bar wenches,” Baron Fargut murmured. One of the spies was a distant cousin of his. He'd paid for her to travel to the Imperium capital and set her up as a bar wench so she could overhear talk in the bar.
“Well, someone must have done it,” the King growled, hands shifting on his mount's saddle horn. The rhinotrike snorted, eager for battle. He checked to make sure the animal's eye blinders were firmly in place. They were. Good. There would be no unfortunate accidents.
“How fortuitous that we received word so quickly,” Earl Tiberius murmured. Viscount Wedst looked at him with contempt. “Using the Imperium's mail against them.” The earl was a good fighter, good administrator and a worthy supporter of the King. He was fit and in his prime, itching to fight and prove himself worthy of better titles and lands.
Art’ur ignored the comment as unworthy. He turned, thinking. The news from the capital had just arrived, it had been quickly sent as soon as the wench had a second confirmation. Someone had poisoned the gaijin war leader. Unfortunately he was expected to live. Also the assassin had died of his own poison.
“Someone else is sowing discord with the gaijin?” the earl asked.
“Rojer most likely.”
The other lords looked at each other and then nodded as one. All knew of Rojer's scheming to get to the throne. It was normal in a noble family, only Andreas's foolish soft spot for his younger brother had so far spared his life.
Andreas's foolishness and the Duke's possible machinations lent all sorts of interesting possibilities to the King of Duluth. At first he'd come to force the King's hand and get him to pay blood guild to get the Duluth to leave. Tribute to feed his people and cement Art’ur's reign. Also an opportunity to carefully weed out his more troublesome competition among the lower lords and lord-lings.
But now, he sucked in a breath, careful to contain his eagerness. Now this was an interesting possibility. If he could smash this army he could then seize the Imperium and add it to his own lands. Apparently the possibility wasn't lost on a few of his supporting lords.
“Any more word on these strange weapons of the gaijin?” he asked.
“No, my liege,” Uuôden replied. He knew the King had read the same report but wanted reassurance that none knew more than he did. “According to the report it is a strange form of pole arm.”
“Pole arm. Pathetic,” the King said with a disgusted sniff.
“Apparently the soldiers in the capital are of much the same opinion. It... From the drawings it appears to be a combination of a club and a spear,” Fargut said, shaking his head. “I do not see the advantages for such a thing in battle.”
“Nor do I,” Uuôden replied. The King barely heard them, his mind was far away, and steps ahead.
To truly control this land though he'd have to capture a royal. Capture and break one. Marry one of the women or marry her to a loyal supporter who would then be his puppet. But first things first, he had to break the siege! Each day he wasted here he burned precious time and resources! Resources the greedy Duke Emroy was clutching and using for his blasted people! Didn't he know when he was beaten??
“If they are at each other’s throats then we may have the advantage. That is if we can break this blasted siege!” the King growled, glaring at the defenders. Men and women were on the walls, hurling rocks and flaming packets of oil down onto his latest attempt to breach the walls. The rocks smashed through the covering shed allowing the flaming oil to seep in to drip on the sappers below. The men boiled out of the shed to be picked off by arrows from the defenders before they could make it back to the lines.
“Fools,” the King growled. The shed burst into flames when the fire caught the unprotected underside of the shed. “I thought you said it was fire proof?” he demanded, turning his body in the saddle to glare at Uuôden.
Uuôden scowled at the ink black smoke and raging fire. “The top leathers were soaked in water to protect them my liege. Once the rocks broke through the fire lit it from underneath,” he said. He and King Richard had planned the campaign carefully. They had intended to launch it just after the season's planting but when the old King had died in the depths of winter his son had immediately called forth heavy levies from all the lords of Duluth to follow him to war. The lords thought he was brilliant yet mad to attack so early and risk the harvest on the work of the elderly and young they had left behind. Of course they knew that those same elderly and young would pay the price if they didn't get the job done and there wasn't enough food to last the winter again.
Unfortunately there were few old, infirm, or young left in the Kingdom. The past three harvests had been poor, each worse than the last. The men had been called away for too long to train constantly it was said. Each year they had scraped by on their reserves but this last winter the res
erves were not there and winter hunting had been sparse. Hungry faces had been all around the halls, and all too many children and old folk had paid for the lack of food with their lives.
The King grunted in irritation. “Well, that's that,” he said with a sigh, turning once more. “See to it that the next bunch knows that if they run like the cowards they are, they will find no shelter amongst out lines. In fact they will be cut down as unworthy dogs.”
Uuôden frowned. Most of the sappers had been slaves or new conscripts. He had no intention of wasting good warriors on a forlorn hope. “Majesty the outer walls are too thick and the moat is too wide in many places to ford easily. That leaves treachery or waiting them out,” Uuôden reminded him.
“Do not tell me my business Imperator, I know,” the King ground out between gritted teeth. He closed his eyes for a long moment. Uuôden had been at this far longer than he but he couldn't acknowledge that. “Do you have a third option?”
“Disease majesty.”
The King frowned, thinking about it. Sending sick or disgusting packages over the walls seemed... appealing. “See to it. And make sure you send them our best regards,” he said, drawing his sword and pointing its tip to a pile of garbage. “Suitably packaged of course,” he said, pointing to a knot of prisoners nearby.
“I don't know if the siege machines can send them majesty. The weight...”
“Then send them one pieces at a time,” the King said rounding on him. “Must I think of everything?” he demanded. The other lords gulped at that order. The baron paled visibly. Sensing his fear, his mount shifted about.
“Steady there,” Fargut grumbled slapping it with his crop.
“A problem baron?” the King asked, turning to the baron.
“No majesty, my mount is eager for battle.”
“Well, if we can find some more villagers to deal with then I shall see your mount gets proper exercise,” the King replied nastily.
“Thank you majesty,” the baron said. He bowed slightly from his saddle.
“Think nothing of it. Now, we must plan the next attack. Pray it goes better than this did.”
