“They’d know if someone told them.”
“It would have to be someone here near Abersford,” Maera said dubiously.
“That’s right.”
“You believe someone near here is communicating with the Narthani? How’s that possible?”
“I don’t know. It may be the raid happened when it did by accident. If it wasn’t . . .”
“Then we have to find out!”
The next day Yozef and Maera corralled Denes in the Magistrate office. He listened blankly at first, then grew more interested and agitated as they explained the previous evening’s discussion.
“This also might explain something puzzling,” said Denes. “Those Narthani sloops that cruise offshore, Garel Kulwyn mentioned how curious it was that the sloops sometimes stay around for a day or more, instead of passing on. What if it’s related to a spy passing information?”
“Wouldn’t it have to be done at night?” said Maera. “Otherwise, they’d be seen during the day.”
“Yes,” agreed Denes, “they could row out at night, and since no one is looking for them, it’s unlikely anyone would notice.”
“Or do it by light signals,” said Yozef. “As long as the information flow was only one way, from shore to ship, a covered lantern at a point of land where the light couldn’t be seen except out at sea would work. The sloop would sit offshore at prearranged days of the month and wait for signals.”
As Yozef had observed previously, specific ideas might not occur to Denes spontaneously, though once brought to his attention, he jumped on them.
“I’ll set up a watch for the nights we know sloops are lurking offshore. There are only a few points where a lantern wouldn’t be seen.”
“Denes, you might consider having a small boat position itself offshore after dark so it could see a suspicious light,” Maera suggested.
“And to see if anyone goes out to meet the sloop,” added Yozef.
“I don’t know if your worry is justified or not, but we’ll assume it is for the next month or so,” Denes stated decisively. “Whenever one of the Narthani sloops lingers off our shore, I’ll arrange a couple of men to watch for suspicious persons near the coast on those nights and a man in a rowboat to sit a few hundred yards offshore. I’ll also investigate possible suspects. I doubt it could be a long-time resident—more likely someone who’s moved to Abersford recently or visits regularly and lives elsewhere.”
It was a month before Yozef’s suspicion was confirmed. On two of the three times a Narthani sloop lingered offshore, the Keelander manning a dinghy rowed back and reported seeing a long series of light flashes from a bluff jutting out from the east end of the Abersford beachfront.
In the previous month, Denes had identified three men as spy candidates. One was an escaped Preddi who worked in one of Abersford’s three pubs. The second was a man of unknown origin who worked odd jobs around the town and had built himself a cabin north of town. The third was a Clengoth trader who spent an inordinate amount time in Abersford. Each of the three was kept under surveillance. On the next night of the flashing lights, suspect #3 was in Clengoth, #2 drank beer in a pub well past time the flashes stopped, and suspect #1 was unaccounted for.
Probable cause for search warrants didn’t exist on Caedellium. Denes and five men surprised the man at his home at first light the next day. While the man’s frightened Keelan wife and year-old child waited outside the house, two burly men held the Preddi, and Denes and the others ransacked the house, an attached shed, and a barn. In the shed, they found a kerosene lantern with three of the four glass sides painted black and the fourth side with a leather flap that could be lifted and lowered. They also found a bundle of papers with Narthani writing and a code key.
Longs and shorts like Morse Code, thought Yozef, when he later saw the papers.
When confronted with the lantern and the papers, the man collapsed, confessed, and begged for mercy. He hadn’t actually escaped Preddi. He had been sent by the Narthani to settle in Abersford and send reports of local happenings, including patrol schedules. Communication was all one-way, because the sloop never sent messages back. When pressed about why he was helping the Narthani, the man wept and said the Narthani had his Preddi wife and two children, plus two sisters and their families, as hostages to ensure his following orders. To convince him, they shot his father in front of the entire family. Denes and the others cursed the Narthani when they heard the story. They believed the man, who appeared broken now that he thought the Narthani would do the same to the rest of his Preddi family.
Later, Denes, Yozef, Maera, and Sistian met after questioning the man further and confirming the consistency in his story. Among the papers found were previous messages. Most were innocuous, while others contained enough information for the Narthani to have known one of the town’s Thirds of fighting men would be absent the day of the raid. Given that information, it was simple enough to fake the Gwillamer raid that drew off a second Third.
Yozef had wondered whether Denes would execute the man, because he could be held to blame for deaths and injuries during the raid. However, Denes surprised him.
“I don’t know that I might not have done the same, given his circumstances. A problem now is that if we execute him or keep him captive and his messages stop, the Narthani might well carry out their threat and kill the rest of his family. I’d prefer to avoid that, if possible. Yozef, what if we send the messages ourselves? How would the Narthani know it was us and not their spy?”
“It’s possible, but what if there’s something that alerts the Narthani? It could be some detail in how the messages are transmitted, some signal or something, that we’re unaware of. Also, what if there’s more than one spy here, and a second one alerts the Narthani? I suggest you let him return to his routine, including sending the messages. The difference is that we’ll write the messages so they contain nothing of consequence, unless we wanted to give the Narthani false information.”
“Denes would have to keep a close watch,” cautioned Maera.
“Tell him you’ll look into getting his family out of Preddi,” added Yozef.
“You mean lie to him,” frowned Denes.
“No promises, only that you’ll do what you can.”
“All right. What about his Keelan wife? She has to act normal, too.”
Yozef shrugged. “Just say it was a mistake and apologize.”
They agreed and gave the Preddi the choice, not that he had options. All messages would be cleared with Denes and the man watched closely. Other than those measures, everything would continue as before.
“It might sound like I’m overly worrisome,” Yozef added cautiously, “but once I thought about Narthani spies, something just as bad or even worse occurred to me. If the Narthani have spies, could there be Narthani agents in place to assassinate important clan leaders? The hetman being the obvious target, of course.”
Denes’s face turned red and Maera’s white.
“Kill the hetman! Would even the Narthani do such a thing?” Denes spat out.
“I fear the Narthani would do anything they believed would make the conquest of Caedellium easier,” Yozef said grimly.
“But–but,” Maera stuttered, “how would they possibly attack Father?”
“From what I’ve seen, by just walking up to him, if the assassin didn’t plan on escaping. Otherwise, a musket, poison, or anything you might imagine.”
“I have to get a semaphore message to the hetman immediately,” said Denes.
Maera was getting color in her face, as she thought of how her father would react. “I think we need to get the message to others besides Father. He may not believe the threat is real or may think that he can deal with it by himself. I’ll send the warning to Mother. He won’t be able to ignore her. Also, Denes, I suggest we alert Vortig Luwis and Pedr Kennrick. With the three of them, it will ensure Father takes this seriously. I’ll write letters right now, and we can send a rider to Caernford, instead of using the sem
aphore. We might be overly worried, but for the moment let’s not let this possibility be widely known. I know the semaphore messages are supposed to be kept inviolate by the operators, though with something like this . . .”
“I suggest warning Luwis and Kennrick to also watch out for themselves,” added Yozef. “In fact, any Keelander with a leadership position should take care.”
“Yozef’s right,” urged Maera. “Father, his advisors, and all the boyermen need to be careful. None of them should go anywhere without several guards accompanying them, and their homes and places of work should be guarded as well.”
Maera looked sharply at Yozef. “That includes you, husband. If there are Narthani agents and they’re looking to weaken Keelan by assassination, you may well be one of their main targets once you’ve gotten their attention, if you haven’t already.”
Yozef was momentarily taken aback. His thinking hadn’t gone as far as himself, though now that Maera mentioned it, she was right. This might all just be his scaremongering, but if he were a Narthani, Yozef Kolsko would be number two on a Keelan hit list, right below the hetman.
A rider took the messages to Caernford. Maera later learned from her mother that Culich had been skeptical until word came over the semaphore days later of an attempt on the life of Welman Stent, hetman of the Stent Clan. The attempt failed, and the unidentified assailants escaped. Less fortunate was Lordum Hewell, the Hewell clan hetman. A stable worker from a neighboring estate killed both the hetman’s younger brother and his wife. The couple was visiting and the husband looked similar enough to the hetman that it was assumed a case of mistaken identity. Although a massive search for the killer was underway, he’d disappeared into nearby mountains.
After these events, Culich sent warnings to all other clans to be wary of additional attacks on clan leaders and other targets such as weapon storehouses.
After he sent those warnings, Culich stared into the abyss he’d avoided.
It’s coming. God help us.
Chapter 26: Ephemeral Joy
Next Generation
One evening over their meal, Maera informed Yozef that the coming Godsday ceremony was also a Naming Day. The Melton family would be there. Yozef and Bronwyn’s child would be given his name, and Yozef would acknowledge fatherhood.
Four days later, Yozef was ambivalent as he sat with Maera at one end of a front pew. The entire Melton family occupied the opposite end. After the main service, Culich rose again after the service’s closing prayer.
“People of Abersford, before leaving today we have one more joyous event to celebrate. The arrival of new souls here on Anyar, by God’s grace.”
There were six little souls to welcome that day. Each family came forward, and the child was introduced by name, with the Merton family last. They walked to the rising where Sistian stood, Bronwyn carrying the baby, her sister, their husband, and their three other children. They all went to their knees, while the abbot recited a litany of duties in raising the child, to which the three adults affirmed. Then Sistian called on Yozef, as the child’s father, to come forward. Maera had primed him on what to do, and he went through a similar series of affirmations. Although he felt awkward, no one else thought it odd to see a mother accompanied by another wife, a husband who was not the father, and the father who was sitting with his pregnant wife.
“People of Abersford, the new soul in our midst is now to be given a name. The mother, Bronwyn Merton, requests that the father, Yozef Kolsko, choose the first name of the child.”
What!! No one said anything about this!
“Yozef Kolsko, what is the given name of this child?”
Yozef’s mind froze. Name? What name?
He never comprehended what came out of his mouth. It may have been a shard of hysteria at being put in the situation without warning, but “Aragorn” was clearly heard throughout the cathedral.
Oh, shit! I didn’t really say that! Wait! Wait! Let me try another one—
“Aragorn,” repeated Sistian. “A new name for Caedellium, appropriate for the son of a father cast upon our shores and making himself a valuable member of our society.”
No! Wait!
“People of Abersford,” intoned Sistian, “meet Aragorn Merton-Kolsko.”
“Oh, shit!” Yozef mumbled.
Maera jerked, as she wondered if she’d heard correctly, having witnessed the exclamation previously and been given the explanation of its meaning.
Yozef ignored her look and told himself it wasn’t that bad a name.
The congregation broke into exclamations of welcome for a baby whose connection to Middle Earth would be forever lost to them.
Well, Yozef sighed. At least the first thing out of my mouth wasn’t Frodo. Or, for that matter—Gollum.
Yozef was only half cognizant of the next hour, except that after the service he held Aragorn for several minutes, while Bronwyn and Maera congratulated each other for a child arrived and one on the way. When he handed the baby back to its mother, there was a moment of regret, followed by back slaps and more approving comments from friends and strangers. Cadwulf declined to hold Aragorn, but Carnigan commented on how tiny new babies were, while holding Aragorn in one hand. Maera took her turn, and Yozef had a surreal moment seeing Maera hold Aragorn against her own growing stomach. When they walked home, Yozef and Maera had their arms around each other’s back, both thinking of their child to come.
Preparing for War
Life in Abersford took on a sense of impending . . . something. New activities were added to the community routine. Eighty men in unison practiced on foot with the new musket cartridges. Denes decided that only one-third of Abersford’s fighting men, called a Third, would be issued cartridges. On his suggestion, Hetman Keelan agreed that other groups would be trained in Clengoth, the district center, and in Caernford, the clan’s capital. The rationale was to train cadres in multiple locations, who in turn would train other men once cartridge production increased. Denes spent several sixdays traveling among the three towns to oversee training five hundred men in using the cartridges and, at Yozef’s insistence, the necessity of firing while on foot—he argued that this made it easier to use the cartridges and maximize the rate of fire. Yozef convinced Denes to call the men “dragoons,” without explaining the Earth reference of men who rode horses to battle sites, then fought as infantry.
They hoped all of Keelan’s fighting men would have minimal training within six months. Yet events would overtake the hope.
Yozef and Denes stood watching what passed for the entire Keelan operational artillery corps practice against hay bales. Although four swivel gun carriages with two barrels each were completed, Yozef waffled on which design was best. While the middle barrel of the original three-barreled carriages weren’t reloaded when the crew wanted to fire the fastest, they still had the advantage of one extra barrel in the initial salvo. Unsure exactly which design was best, he settled on initially focusing on the three-barrel pieces, the three of them providing nine barrels for the first salvo and six thereafter.
New additions to the artillery corps were three smaller carriages, each mounting one of the large crossbows firing the explosive quarrels. While Yozef wasn’t confident in their usefulness, his workers were so enthused he hesitated to discourage them.
The three swivel carriages were lined up twenty yards apart, facing a hundred straw bales standing on end. Paper covered the sides facing the Keelanders a hundred yards away, to allow counting holes from the canister. The bales simulated a block of Narthani infantry standing shoulder to shoulder, as the Preddi escapee had reported. The three crossbow carriages had a greater effective range and, if used in coordination with the swivels, should have been placed in the rear to fire over the swivel carriages. However, Yozef didn’t trust the crossbow crews enough to fire their contraptions over the other crews, so they were placed behind, 50 yards to one side, 150 yards from the bales.
He supposed he shouldn’t be so cynical about the crossbows. After a
ll, the French had used something not so different during the trench warfare of World War I. Still, he wanted to be a little more confident.
“All ready, Yozef,” said Denes. All eyes of six crews, plus extras and onlookers, focused on the two men.
“It’s your show, Denes. Give the go.”
Denes raised a hand holding a small white flag. All of the crews turned to their carriages, with only the crew captains watching Denes. Seeing he had all of the captains’ attention, Denes slashed the flag to his side, the crew captains yelled, and the first swivel barrels fired, followed seconds later by all of the second and then third barrels, after realigning to the bales. When the third barrels fired, the crews swarmed to reload the outer two barrels, the third one now abandoned in an effort to keep up the fastest rate of fire possible.
From the first barrel to the third lasted nine seconds: fire one, realign from the recoil, fire two, realign from the recoil, fire three. Another fifteen seconds passed, as crews swarmed reloading and the two outer barrels fired again. As planned, after four rounds of reloading and firing, the crews stopped and viewed the results. Yozef had drilled into them that only the crew captains looked downrange. The crews’ task was loading and firing, not evaluating and aiming.
The crossbows firing couldn’t be heard, but their crews had launched four quarrels each before the swivels ceased firing. The quarrels’ flights were silent, though the trail of sparks and smoke outlined their arced passages. One quarrel lost its gunpowder/shrapnel container shortly after firing. The explosion was only forty yards in from of the carriage, and Yozef winced. It would have landed within the swivels if the crossbows had been directly to the rear. Four quarrels passed over the bales, three impacted and exploded short, and four landed within the formation.
The Pen and the Sword (Destiny's Crucible Book 2) Page 32
