Great Kings' War

by John F. Carr

  "Also, if we keep the army together, it will be easier to send messages. That's almost as good as growing wings on—"

  Kalvan interrupted Rylla's dissertation on the principles of war by kissing her again, harder and longer than the first time. For a moment, he was almost sorry that she was pregnant. Still, at first, he'd been upset by the news: his first thought was of losing her to here-and-now's pitiful childbirth practices and sepsis. His second though was that the spring campaign would be long over before she could be in the saddle again—and Rylla was one of Hostigos' Best generals.

  She was also someone who couldn't stay out of the thick of the fighting once she got within hearing range of gunfire. A recurring nightmare for Kalvan was finding Rylla the way he'd found a Nostori cavalry officer—shot out of the saddle by a charge of case shot, ridden over by his whole troop, then stripped naked by looters and tumbled into a ditch. He hugged and kissed her again until the nightmare went away.

  Rylla looked at the map of Hos-Hostigos again. "We can move food and guns down to the castles in southern Beshta, especially the border castles like Tarr-Veblos and Tarr-Locra, as soon as the roads are open. That way we don't have to move the whole army and all its supplies and ordnance at once, or as far."

  A depot system made sense if they were going to take the offensive. It even made sense if by some miracle the enemy struck first. A few well-gunned, well-supplied forts in the path of Kaiphranos' army could tie down a lot of strength. There was even a place he'd heard of near Three Mile Island where there was an old castle, Tarr-Locra that would stop up the Harph like a cork in a bottle if fortified strongly enough. If Kaiphranos wasn't brave enough to move until he had Styphon's aid, the forts could support cavalry units to scout and harass him all the way to the walls of Harphax City.

  Harmakros in particular would just love a chance to take his troopers south and singe King Kaiphranos' beard!

  "We'll have to be careful to give them adequate supplies and reliable garrisons,' Kalvan said. "It won't do for the main army to march south and be shot at by our guns because the garrisons have been starved out or turned their colors."

  "I know the men for the garrisons," Rylla said with an impish grin. "The mercenaries that Balthar's men rode over at the Battle of Fyk. If there's anybody absolutely sure not to love Beshtans, it's those men."

  Kalvan agreed and tried to remember the disposition of those troops in the new Royal Army. He had offered amnesty, land and a place in the Royal Army of Hos-Hostigos to the mercenaries who had been captured during the wars with Nostor and Sask; a majority had signed on.

  Now he recalled which regiments the mercenaries were with. "They're in the Third and Fourth Regiments of Horse. We can send them to Beshta as part of an observation force under Captain-General Harmakros."

  Before Rylla could reply, Kalvan realized that he might finally be tired enough to go to sleep and draped an arm over her shoulder. "Let's go to bed."

  He wasn't as tired as he'd thought, but it didn't take long for the warmth of the bed and Rylla's steady soft breathing to put him under. The last thing he remembered thinking before dropping off was that despite all his problems, he was still a lucky man to be here with Rylla as Great King Kalvan instead of merely Corporal Calvin Morrison of the Pennsylvania State Police.

  SIX

  I

  Outside the shuttered windows of the Great Hall of Tarr-Hostigos, Kalvan knew that it was a dazzling bright winter day without a breath of wind disturbing last night's freshly fallen snow. It was also cold enough to perform a traditional form of surgery on brass monkeys.

  Inside the Great Hall, both fireplaces were blazing and charcoal braziers stood in every corner and to either side of the two thrones. Candles and rush tapers added their flames to both heat and the light. It was still nothing that Kalvan would have called warm in either English or Zarthani, but at least he could hope to refrain from undignified gestures such as stamping his feet or blowing on his fingers.

  The Royal Herald at the head of the stairs blew on his trumpet with more enthusiasm than talent. His companion carrying the double-headed copper poleax that accompanied each Great King at official functions raised his voice.

  "Baron Menephranos, envoy of Prince Araxes of Phaxos, craves audience with the Great King of Hos-Hostigos."

  Baron Menephranos stepped into the Audience Chamber followed by an attendant carrying four scrolls in a silver tray and flanked by two efficient looking bodyguards in the black and green livery of Phaxos. The guards fell back as the Baron strode forward, stopping halfway to the throne to bow until Kalvan waved him forward.

  Menephranos was a tall, gangling young man who was almost certainly older than he looked, which was about eighteen. Kalvan found it hard to be optimistic about Prince Araxes' allegiance; the Baron wasn't the sort of negotiator he would have sent on serious business. It did quell his worries about Menephranos being a double agent.

  Menephranos approached the royal throne, bowed again, and handed the first scroll to Kalvan. He inspected it to make certain that Chancellor Xentos' seal was on it along with Prince Araxes', signifying that the Chancellor had read it and found satisfactory. After a cursory inspection of the Duke's credentials, he handed the scroll to Rylla.

  In the normal course of events, Rylla would have handed them back to Xentos, but the old Highpriest of Dralm was in bed with a nasty cold that might turn into pneumonia if neglected. Kalvan and Rylla had forbidden him to attend the audience. Rylla had added that if he continued arguing she would tie him to the bed, put sleeping draughts in his wine and, if all else failed, shoot him in the foot. The latter threat was probably a joke, but with Rylla you could never be sure.

  "Baron Menephranos," Kalvan said, "It is Our understanding that your lord, Prince Araxes of Phaxos, has some considerable matter he wishes to lay before us. Let Us hope it is one that will lead to good relations between the Great Throne of Hos-Hostigos and him. We have suffered no injury at his hands, nor have We given him any that We are aware of." Araxes' example had undoubtedly encouraged other Princely waverers to refuse their allegiance to Kalvan, which counted as an injury on anybody's book but why not be tactful?

  "The Great King speaks the truth," Menephranos said. His voice was also older than his face, a fine baritone that seemed too strong to come from such narrow chest. "It is my Prince's message that he must refuse his allegiance to the Throne of Hos-Hostigos, and that he does out of this out of no enmity to the man proclaimed Great King Kalvan I, but out of a greater concern for his own nobles and people."

  Menephranos picked up the second parchment, ignoring the general hostile muttering that had begun when he had used the word "proclaimed." He went down on both knees to Kalvan, who saw that the parchment was sealed with both Araxes' seal and that of the High Chancellery at Balph, seat of Styphon's Voice and of the Inner Circle.

  Kalvan described the seal and waited for another round of muttering to die down, before speaking, "We have long been curious as to what plots against the True Gods, and those who honor them, the Arch-Deceivers of False Styphon have hatched in their sty in Balph. Now, perhaps, we shall know more than we have; if so Prince Araxes may have Our gratitude, although We do not as of yet have his allegiance."

  Kalvan drew his dagger and slit the seal. The scroll had two sheets: one was a short letter from Araxes that restated in more flowery language what Menephranos had already said about the Prince's refusal of allegiance; the second was heralded First Edict of Balph. Kalvan skimmed the Edict, heard Rylla muttering under her breath and realized his face must be showing too much. He pulled it straight, finished reading the Edict, then cleared his throat and began reciting it aloud.

  FIRST EDICT OF BALPH

  Sesklos Supreme Priest and Styphon's Voice

  To the Lawful Kings and Princes of the Known World

  Greetings:

  Be it know, that; throughout all the years since the Revelation of the Fireseed Mystery, given to us by Styphon, God of Gods, that secret has
been guarded by Styphon's House.

  Throughout all the years in which that secret has been guarded, it has been guarded not in hopes of temporal power or wealth.

  This time harsh laughter joined the muttering. Kalvan waited for silence before continuing.

  The Fireseed Mystery has been guarded in the hope that by moderating the power of the Kings and Princes to make war at their whim, the lands of the Known World might remain unravaged by war and the people secure in their lives and wealth. Now the Godless Usurper and ally of demons, calling himself Kalvan—

  Cries and curses filled the room. Kalvan waved the Hall to silence; if the court continued to reply to every insult they would be there all day.

  Now the Godless Usurper and ally of demons calling himself Kalvan has revealed Styphon's Holy Secret to all men. He has given to Kings and Princes the power to release the scourge of war upon the land whenever they wish, without let or hindrance save from their own wills.

  He has so greatly deceived and led astray certain Princes that they have sworn impious oaths to join him in his rebellion against their duly recognized overlords, Styphon's House and the God of Gods.

  As all may bear witness, Styphon and the other True Gods have visited their curse upon the land for the crimes of the Usurper and the allies of the Daemon Kalvan. Not in the memory of man has war wrought such havoc, nor has the winter been so fierce, nor have demons in the guise of wolves ravished the land so freely.

  It is proper and lawful that Styphon's House endeavor to lift the curse from the land by all mean in its power so that the innocent will not suffer along with the guilty.

  To this end we proclaim: that no oath sworn to the Usurper and ally of demons, Kalvan is binding in any way whatsoever upon any man or Prince.

  That Styphon's House will freely give the secret of fireseed to any Prince or King who has sworn no oaths to the Usurper and ally of demons, and that this fireseed shall be free of demons, fireseed devils and all unclean beings which abound in Kalvan's foul and impious substance.

  That such Kings and Princes who receive the lawful secret of fireseed shall admit into their councils such consecrated highpriests of Styphon as may be necessary to guard the fireseed from the influence of demons, and that these priests shall be allowed all that they deem necessary to preserve the cleanliness of the fireseed and the true worship of Styphon, God of Gods.

  That against such Kings and Princes who have made unlawful oaths, proclaimed unclean fireseed or foully used the priests of Styphon, Styphon's House may proclaim all measures it deems fit, even unto Holy War, save that these Kings and Princes abjure their crimes and make full and fit restitution and repentance.

  Done in the Great Council of Balph this 26th day of the Moon of Long Darkness in the four hundred and eighty-second year of Styphon's Revelation.

  SESKLOS

  STYPHON'S VOICE UPON EARTH

  Kalvan was too angry to sit still. He jumped up from the throne and grabbed the third parchment from the tray and tore it open. This document denounced the words of the traitorous dupes of the Usurper Kalvan, the so-called Archpriests Zothnes and Krastocles who had fraudulently disparaged the other True Gods except for the False Dralm, god of bilge-cleaners and latrine-diggers. Kalvan was glad Xentos wasn't there when he read that aloud to an accompanying chorus of "Down Styphon!" and "Death to Sesklos!"

  "I know it stinks," Kalvan said when he could make himself heard. "But consider where it comes from. Would anything from the Lord of Flies and his servants not stink?" That drew laughter, reminding those in the Audience Chamber of the endless peasant jokes made to explain why the priests of Styphon's House were always demanding more cow and horse dung for their saltpeter mills.

  Kalvan was privately sorry to see that someone at Balph had the sense to see what the result of a One-God, One-Way schism might lead to here-and-now—especially considering all the mercenaries who took the worship of Galzar Wolfhead as seriously as the Roman Legionnaires took the Cult of Mithras. There went the holy crusade against Styphon—at least for now.

  When he opened the fourth parchment, Kalvan began to laugh. "Sesklos seems to think he has some hope of proving his case and provides a great many words on demons, oaths, fireseed devils, prophecies, divinations and such matters.

  Kalvan sat back down and looked at Menephranos. "Nonsense does not become less nonsensical by being repeated in more flowery language, or did no one ever teach Sesklos that?"

  Menephranos seemed to feel that he had to reply. "I cannot judge the thoughts of Styphon's Voice. Yet, I know that Prince Araxes is greatly concerned, not only for his own lords and people, but also for others who have been—whom Styphon's House sees as having being led astray by the Great King Kalvan. Surely, even your Majesty must see—"

  "Little man," Rylla replied in a voice that lowered the temperature of the Audience Chamber by about ten degrees. "The word 'must' is not used when addressing Great Kings." Rylla's hand was very close to the hilt of her dagger, and Kalvan did not like the expression on her face. The last time he'd seen one like it, she'd thrown the lid of a stone chamber pot at him and would have thrown the pot itself if he hadn't made a strategic retreat in the face of overwhelmingly bad temper.

  Kalvan decided the situation needed defusing before some hothead took his cue from Rylla and turned the audience into a brawl or worse. Kalvan did not care to be known as a ruler who could not keep order in his own court or worse still, allow the envoys of allegedly friendly Princes to be lynched before his eyes.

  He stood up, ostentatiously wiped his hands on his breeches, then drew his own dagger and thrust it through one corner of the Edict of Balph. "Will someone please summon the Steward of the Privies?" he called. "Have him bring one of the buckets. I believe he is the man among us most skilled at dealing with such filth."

  Several people promptly dashed for the door. Even the green and black liveried guardsmen burst out laughing. Menephranos tried to join the laughter but wasn't very successful since his face was turning the color of the coals in the braziers.

  When he could make himself heard without shouting, Kalvan went on. "Baron Menephranos. Like a good dog, you have barked as you master taught you. It is not your fault that you bore a shameful message that does your lord no honor. Therefore, We will not violate the laws of hospitality sacred to Allfather Dralm and Yirtta Allmother by bidding you to leave Hostigos at once. However, We would consider it a courtesy if tomorrow's sunset did not find you within the bounds of Hostigos Town."

  "As you—Your Majesty commands." Menephranos said. His face was still flushed but his voice was almost steady, and he bowed himself out with as much dignity as anyone could reasonably expect under the circumstances.

  "Someone ought to make that little cockerel a capon before he gets too fond of crowing," Rylla said to no one in particular. Kalvan hope nobody at all had heard. Otherwise, he might end up like Henry II, who'd lost his temper before some of his more hotheaded knights and wound up being held responsible for the death of Thomas à Becket in his own cathedral.

  "Baron Klestreus," Kalvan called.

  "Your Majesty?" The barrel-shaped former mercenary captain-general who was now Chief of Internal Intelligence lumbered over to the throne.

  "Do any of your people have old friends among Menephranos' retinue?"

  "Not that I know of. Why, Your Majesty?"

  "It doesn't matter. Send some of your most trustworthy men to Menephranos' lodgings tonight with enough money to make new friends. Men who can hold their wine and keep their eyes and ears open."

  Klestreus nodded and lowered his voice to nearly a whisper. "Not friends of Skranga, either." Duke Skranga was head of the Hos-Hostigos Secret Service and Kalvan had fostered a rivalry between the two services as a way of keeping them both relatively honest.

  He stopped Klestreus as he backed away. "Before you go, Baron we don't need any more surprises such as this Edict of Balph. Hasn't the Royal Treasury been spending gold on agents in Balph?"

&nb
sp; "Yes, Sire. However, the results to date have been poor, I fear to say. Balph is far away and some agents take the gold and don't bother to report back—or are caught. Others have trouble obtaining reliable information since the highpriests are leery of outsiders, even those of high birth and wealth. Balph is a city of priests and so far we've only been able to bribe several highpriests, but none of any real stature and, of course, no one within the Inner Circle."

  "By Dralm, get someone inside the Inner Circle if you have to bankrupt the Royal Treasury! If you don't have any news within a moon, I'll have Duke Skranga stick his nose into it."

  "Yes, Your Majesty," Klestreus voice was a little shaken.

  "Now, put your men on Menephranos. Klestreus withdrew calling for his messengers. Anyone the Chief of Intelligence sent out tonight could be trusted to remember anything Menephranos' men spilled, not sell it to the highest bidder and guard Menephranos from any Hostigi hot-heads. Kalvan wasn't prepared to trust Duke Skranga's secret servicemen that far, although the former horse trader was a natural intelligence officer. Unfortunately, Skranga was so crooked that he probably saw playing both ends against the middle as sort of an indoor sport to keep the winter from getting to dull.