Lyonesse II - The Green Pear and Madouc

by Jack Vance

  Sir Hune was dumbfounded and outraged; where was the call to parley he had so confidently expected? And he liked even less the sight of the gibbet which was being erected somewhat to the side. It was strong and high, and well-braced, as if prepared for much heavy work.

  The barrage continued all night long. As the sun sent red rays of dawn along the misty fell, bales of straw impregnated with hot pitch and fish oil were set afire and lofted after the stones, that they might ignite broken woodwork and stores. Almost at once red flames and coils of black smoke rose above the doomed fabric of Three Pines House.

  From within came hoarse calls of rage and horror; this was not the way affairs were meant to go! Here was sheer coldblooded obliteration of Sir Hune and Three Pines in totality, and all for so trifling an offense!

  Sir Hune prepared for what must now be done: a hopeless and desperate attempt to flee. The gates fell open: out galloped the warriors in an effort to break through the lines and win free across the moors. Arrows felled their horses. Some of the warriors leaped erect and fought with swords until they too were shot dead by the Troice archers; others were captured as they lay stunned in the bracken, and among these was Sir Hune. His arms were bound; a rope was tied around his neck and he was dragged stumbling to the gibbet.

  Aillas stood at a distance of twenty yards. For the briefest of moments the two looked eye to eye, then Sir Hune was hoisted high.

  The survivors of the battle were brought to Aillas for judgment. Two were barons in their own right, and six more were knights; these eight were considered rebels, as was Sir Hune, and they too went to the gibbet.

  The remaining prisoners, some fifty men, stood haggard and woebegone, waiting their turn. Aillas went to inspect them. He spoke: “In point of law you, like your leaders, are rebels. Probably you deserve hanging. However, I deplore the waste of strong men, who should be supporting the cause of their country rather than working to defeat it.

  “I offer each of you an option. You may be hanged at this moment, or you may enlist in the king’s army, to serve him with full loyalty. Choose! Those who wish to be hanged, let them step yonder to the gibbet.”

  There were a few uneasy mutters, a shifting of feet, and walleyed glances toward the gibbet, but no one moved. “What? There are none for the gibbet? Then let those who wish to enlist in the royal army move yonder to the wagons, and place themselves under the command of the sergeant.”

  Sheepishly the erstwhile defenders of Three Pines House took themselves to the wagons.

  The women and children of the household stood desolately by the walls of the still-smouldering castle. Aillas instructed Sir Pirmence: “Go now and console the women; advise them to find places with their kin; if need be give them assistance. Your tactfulness and perception should be invaluable. Sir Tristano, make sure that no survivors remain within the castle, whether invalids or persons whom we might wish to know better, such as Sir Shalles of Dahaut. Sir Maloof, where are you? Here is scope for your own rare talents! Speak with persons of the household and discover Sir Hune’s treasure vault, together with all other precious gems, coins and objects of gold and silver. Make an inventory, then confiscate all to the interest of the royal exchequer, which should bring at least a trifle of pleasure to this melancholy day.”

  Sir Maloof found little enough treasure: a few salvers, cups and plates of silver; a hundred gold coins, and some trinkets of garnet, tourmaline and jasper. Sir Pirmence consoled the bereaved women with great skill, and sent them off to the places of their kin. Sir Tristano returned with grisly news. “I find no invalids nor persons in hiding. No one survives in the house, save only those in the dungeons. I counted eight prisoners and three torturers; then I could no longer bear the stench.”

  Aillas’ heart went cold. “Torturers, then? I might have suspected as much. Tristano, you must do more. Take some men of strong stomach and go down into the dungeons. Liberate the prisoners and clap the torturers into chains. Then make use of our new soldiers.” Aillas indicated Sir Hune’s former henchmen. “Order them to bring into the light of day all those implements and instruments now in the dungeons, and we will make sure that no one else puts them to use.”

  The eight prisoners were brought up from the dungeons, limping, hopping, sidling, some moving their legs with tender delicacy, groaning and whimpering with each step: the legacy of overmuch familiarity with the rack. Two could not walk in any fashion whatever, and were carried out on pallets. All eight were in sorry state. Their garments were rags; they stank with encrustations of filth and ordure, and hair lay matted and pasted against their scalps. The six who could walk huddled together, peering from the side of their faces, half-fearful, half-apathetic.

  The three torturers stood apart, surly, uncertain, but feigning a disdainful detachment from the situation. One was a ponderous big-bellied hulk, chinless and with only a hint of neck. The second was elderly, with high shoulders, a tall forehead and long chin. The third, who seemed no more than Aillas’ own age, smiled with unconvincing bravado first out at the troops, then up at the bodies on the gibbet.

  Aillas spoke in a sad voice to the former prisoners: “Be easy; you are free! No one will harm you now.”

  One of the men responded in a husky whisper: ” ‘Now’ is now, but ‘then’ is gone! My name is Nols; I know that only so I may hide when I am called. The rest is like a dream.”

  Another looked in wonder at the gibbet. He pointed a claw-like finger: “There hangs Sir Hune, heavy as lard! Is it not a marvel? Dead Sir Hune! Sweet dead Sir Hune! As dear to my eyes as the face of my mother!”

  Nols also pointed. “I see Cissies and Nook and Luton! Are they still to be our jailers?”

  “Indeed not,” said Aillas. “They are to be hanged, which is perhaps too easy an end for them. Sergeant! Hoist high these three horrors.”

  “Hold!” cried the young torturer Luton in a sudden sweat. “We obeyed orders, no more! Had we not done so, a dozen others would have leapt forward to take over our posts!”

  “And today they would dangle from the gibbet instead of you… . Sergeant, take them aloft.”

  “Hurrah!” quavered Nols, and his fellows joined him in a gasping chorus of cheers. “But what of Black Thrumbo? Why does he go free, and see him standing there with so kind and gentle a smile on his face.”

  “Who is Black Thrumbo?”

  “There he stands, Chief Archer to Sir Hune. He favors the whip because its song is true. Ho, Black Thrumbo, I see you there! Why do you not greet me? You have been so familiar with me and my parts; now you are so distant!”

  Aillas looked where Nols pointed. “Which is Thrumbo?”

  “In the leather helmet, with a face like the moon. He is chief among the torturers.”

  Aillas called out: “Thrumbo, you may step over to the gibbet, if you will. I have no need for torturers in my army.”

  Thrumbo turned and made a desperate dash for the hillside, hoping to scramble to freedom, but, as he was somewhat corpulent and short of breath, he was quickly captured and dragged sobbing and cursing to the gibbet. An hour later Aillas returned with his troops to Doun Darric.

  Ill

  THE BARONS OF SOUTH ULFLAND were convened in a second conclave at Doun Darric. On this occasion beef turned on the spit and a tun of good wine stood ready for the broaching.

  Today there were no truants; all the barons of South Ulfland were on hand. Their mood, as they conferred privately and sat at the table, was somewhat different than on the previous occasion. They seemed glum and thoughtful, troubled rather than truculent.

  Before too much wine was consumed, Aillas delivered his message. Today he sat quiet while a fanfare from a pair of clarions commanded silence. Then a herald, climbing onto a bench, read from a scroll:

  “All hear these words, which are those of King Aillas! I speak in his voice! ‘Recently Sir Hune of Three Pines House disobeyed my explicit orders, and all present know how went the aftermath. In his dungeons he kept prisoners, contrary to the spirit i
f not the letter of my law.

  “I will shortly issue a code of justice, uniform with that of Troicinet and Dascinet. In each county of the land, sheriffs and magistrates will be designated. They will administer all justice: high, middle and low. The persons here today will be relieved of what can only be an onerous responsibility.

  “That responsibility is terminated. All prisoners held in durance by persons now present must be released into the custody of my representatives, who will return with each of you to your home-places. Hereafter you may no longer immure, incarcerate nor confine any of my subjects, at The risk of royal displeasure, which Sir Hune discovered to be swift and definite.

  “I further discovered that Sir Hune indulged himself in the torture of his enemies. This is vile and ignoble, no matter what the justification. I hereby declare torture, in all its categories, to be a capital offense, punishable by death and confiscation of property.

  “In all fairness I cannot punish crimes committed before my proscription, despite my inclination. You need fear no such reprisal. At this time either Sir Pirmence, Sir Maloof or Sir Tristano will interview each of you in turn. You must give information regarding prisoners in your custody, with their names and condition, and also the names of torturers in your employ. Then you will immediately depart for home, and the listed prisoners will be delivered to my representatives, who will also take your torturers into custody. Since I do not want these persons loosed into the general population, they will be brought here to Doun Darric and probably enlisted into a special corps of my army. Those among you who employed the torturers are no less culpable than they, but, as previously stated, I cannot punish you for crimes committed before my proscription.

  “Sir Pirmence, Sir Maloof and Sir Tristano are now at work among you. I urge that you cooperate and impart exact information, as these declarations will be verified.’

  “Such, my lords, are the words of his Majesty, King Aillas.”

  IV

  THE BARONS HAD DEPARTED, most to take lodging for the night with friends or kin along the way to their homes. Each had gone in company with a Troice knight and six soldiers, to ensure the exact fulfillment of King Aillas’ law, which in many cases consisted of a prisoner exchange between hostile castles.

  Aillas and Tristano sat long into the evening discussing the events of the day. Sir Tristano, in his conversations, had discovered no further news of Sir Shalles. He had last been seen at the remote castle of Sir Mulsant, one of the barons most intransigent of all.

  “Mulsant’s point of view is not without logic,” said Tristano. “He lives under the Cloudcutters, where outlaws are rife; if he disbanded his garrison, he declares that he would not survive a week, and I tend to believe him. And now Torqual has intruded on the scene. Until we can hold him in check, we cannot fairly insist that folk of the region both go defenseless and endorse our cause.”

  Aillas gloomily considered the statement. “Truly, our recourses are distasteful. If we strike at Torqual in North Ulfland, our chance of success is negligible and we challenge the Ska. Now, of all times, we want to let sleeping dogs lie.”

  “No one will argue with this point of view.”

  Aillas heaved a deep sigh and slumped back in his chair. “Once again dreamful hopes founder on the rocks of reality. I must adapt to the harsh facts. So long as Sir Mulsant and others like him cause us no embarrassment, I appoint them ‘Wardens of the March.’”

  “All this is called ‘the art of practical kingship,’ ” said Tristano; then he and Aillas spoke of different subjects.

  Chapter 8

  I

  SHALLES, ARRIVING IN LYONESSE TOWN, went directly to Haidion and in due course was taken to a small sitting room in the Tower of Owls where King Casmir sat studying charts and maps. Shalles performed a suitable bow and waited while King Casmir closed his portfolio, using a ponderous deliberation, which anyone with a guilty conscience could only find ominous.

  At last King Casmir swung about and looked Shalles over from head to toe, as if he had never seen him before. He gestured to a chair; when Shalles had seated himself, Casmir said, “Sir Shalles, I see that you have been traveling hard; what have you to tell me?”

  Encouraged by Casmir’s use of the honorific, Shalles, who had been sitting on the edge of his chair, relaxed a trifle back into the seat. He considered his words carefully, since they might well make his fortune, or yield him nothing, if he failed to gain King Casmir’s approval. “In general, sir, I cannot fairly give you an amplitude of good news. King Aillas has acted with decision and to good effect. He has kept his opponents off-balance and denied them a basis for insubordination. He is popular with the common folk, and also the aristocracy of the lower fells and the shore, who value order and prosperity more than an unqualified franchise, which they never had, in any case.”

  “Has there been measurable resistance to an alien king?”

  “The most noteworthy example is that of Sir Hune of Three Pines House. He openly violated the new laws; almost before he did the deed his castle was in ruins and he swung high on a gibbet. This is language which the Ulfs understand.” Casmir gave a sour grunt. Shalles continued. “Aillas discovered full dungeons at Three Pines House. He called a conclave, where he banned private justice, and emptied every dungeon in the land. By and large, the edict won him approval, since the barons fear nothing more than their enemies’ dungeons, where, if captured, they are punished for the sins of their grandfathers.

  “In clearing the dungeons, Aillas confiscated all their gear. I am told that he took forty racks, seven tons of tools, and one hundred torturers. These are now a special corps in the royal army. Their cheeks are tattooed black; their uniforms are black and yellow and they wear ‘mad-dog’ helmets. They are considered pariahs and live apart from the other troops.”

  “Bah!” muttered Casmir. “There is a reek of over-niceness to this milk-sop king. What else?”

  “I will now render an account of my own activities. They have been diligent, dangerous and miserably uncomfortable.” With a somewhat forced enthusiasm in the face of King Casmir’s unresponsive stare, Shalles described the range of his activities, and did not fail to mention the perils he encountered almost daily. “With a price on my head, I finally decided that I could do no more. My slanders, while always popular, were never corroborated and exerted no lasting influence. During the course of my work I discovered a strange fact, to this effect: the staid stark stupid truth carries more conviction than the most entrancing falsehoods, even though the latter sometimes receive more currency. Still, I was sufficiently irksome that Aillas tried with might and main to capture me, and I was constantly skipping away just barely clear of apprehension.”

  With hooded eyes and in the mildest of voices King Casmir asked: “And what do you suppose might have been your fate had you been captured?”

  Shalles’s sensitivities were keen. After only the most imperceptible of hesitations, he said: “That is hard to say. Aillas bruited about an offer to pay me twice your own stipend, if I became a turncoat. He intended, so I suspect, only a disparagement of my reputation, and in fact the ploy reduced my credibility to nothing.”

  King Casmir gave a thoughtful nod. “A rumor of this offer reached me through other sources. What of Torqual?”

  Shalles paused to gather his thoughts. “I have seen Torqual at various times, though not as often as I wished. He goes his way without reference to my advice, but he seems to be serving your good interests. He is insatiable in his demands for gold, that he may the better augment his power. We were together at the reduction of Three Pines House; we stood with peasants across the meadow. Torqual tells me that, first, he has been learning the terrain, and, second, that he has recruited the nucleus of a following. He has found a bolt-hole in North Ulfland from which he can penetrate South Ulfland on raids. He has let it be known that his favored victims will be those who obey the king’s command-a tactic which persuades the Ska to ignore him. Gradually he thinks to extend his power over
all the high moors.” Here Shalles gave a shrug.

  King Casmir asked: “You would seem to doubt his success?”

  “In the long run, yes. He thinks only of destruction, which is not a sound basis for a stable rule. Still, I cannot read the future. In the Ulflands anything can happen.”

  “So it seems,” mused King Casmir. “So it seems.”

  Shalles said somberly: “I wish I could bring you news kinder to your ears, since my fortune depends upon pleasing you.”

  King Casmir rose to his feet and went to look down into the fire. At length he said: “You may go. In the morning we will talk further.”

  Shalles bowed and departed in a cheerless mood. Lacking compliments from King Casmir, he had not dared bring up the subject of reward.

  In the morning King Casmir again conferred with Shalles, and attempted to glean more information about Torqual, but Shalles could only reiterate his statements of the day before. Finally King Casmir tendered him a sealed packet. “At the stable a good horse awaits. I have another small mission for you. Ride north into Pomperol by Icnield Way. At the village Honriot turn left and ride through Dahaut into Forest Tantrevalles. Go to Faroli and give this message into the hand of the wizard Tamurello. I expect that he will have a response for you.”

  II

  IN DUE COURSE SHALLES RETURNED to Haidion. He was at once admitted into the presence of King Casmir, to whom he delivered a parcel.

  King Casmir appeared in no haste to learn the contents of the parcel. He laid it on the table and, turning to Shalles, in an almost gracious manner asked: “How went the journey?”

  “The journey went well, sir. I rode at speed to Faroli, which I found without undue difficulty.”