by Robert Adams
But when he inquired, Hahkmukos told him, "I don't have a shield with me. I'll have to take one from one of my guards. Where are the two you brought to be my armingmen?"
The lieutenant made a wry face. "Lord, the camp of your guards is deserted. The picket lines are empty, and have been stripped of anything usable or small and valuable. Your servants say that the guards hurriedly packed and rode off with their pack train at a hard gallop while we were at the headquarters pavilion. However, your own horses are left, and the servants should have two of them outside the tent by now. I'm certain we can get a shield from one of my men."
Outside the tent, two saddled horses had been tied, but not one servant or slave was within sight. "Lieutenant, it's been some time since I tried to mount while wearing armor and weapons. Give me a leg up," said Hahkmukos blandly.
The young officer shrugged and obliged him. But no sooner was the thoheeks-designate firmly in the saddle than he smashed his muddy bootsole full into the officer's face, grabbed the reins of the second horse and spurred his own into a fast canter out of the camp, not galloping solely because he did not wish to attract undue attention.
"The fools," he thought, "I saw right through them from the very start. No, they had no plans on my life, that mewling old bastard of a Grahvos swore. No, they didn't, not that pack from Mehseepolis, no, they just meant to rob me and humiliate me, then to let that damned usurper of a Klaios cut me down. They must have known that I'm not a fighter, that my armor and weapons were bought only for appearance and because in the grades of Pitzburk I bought, they are damned good investments, just as these blooded horses are."
Not until he was completely out of sight of the camp, only the more lofty reaches of the city of Ahndropolis still barely visible in the drizzly mist, did Hahkmukos rein up long enough to throw the hooded cloak he had grabbed off a hook as they had left the tent over his gaudy panoply, remove the devilishly uncomfortable helmet and hang it from his pommel and fold the hood up so that the cold water would no longer drip and run down his face. Then he set the horse to a gallop, heading northwestward, away from both Ahndropolis and Mehseepolis.
In the spartanly furnished little office, Thoheeks Grahvos finished his perusal of the sheaf of witnessed oaths of Klaios, the surviving landholders of the Duchy of Ahndros and those of the men that the acting-thoheeks had carefully picked to fill the many vacancies. As the elder man tucked the documents into first a waxed-parchment folder, then a waxed-leather tube, he said, "The Horseclanners will be in the saddle at dawn and I with them, so these should be in Mehseepolis by the end of the week. Never you fear, my boy, you'll be confirmed, for you're just the sort of thoheeks we want in these lands. When you've set things in order hereabouts and can do so, come to Mehseepolis and take your place on the Council. Until then, I'll vote your proxy as we discussed.
"Save for the troops we're loaning you and Ahndros, all Council forces should be on the march back by noonday tomorrow. The order is set for dawn, but I've never yet seen an army set out on time and I doubt that I ever will." He chuckled ruefully. "Yes, the Horseclanners always leave on time, but then they are barbarians and can't fathom the senseless and inevitable delays of civilized armies. I like them and respect them, they're probably the finest, the most dependable and effective troops Council just now owns, and I mean to persuade some of them to stay down here, take lands and breed up more of their race."
As he stood and hitched his light dress sword around to make for easier walking, he admonished, "But, son Klaios, you'll be wise to keep some sturdy, faithful bodyguards by you and the Lady Ahmahleea and the children at all times, hire a food-taster or two as well, and make constant use of their services. Hahkmukos is a coward—he would not fight anyone breast to breast, not if that opponent was armed—but he is highly dangerous, I feel, nonetheless. I doubt not that that empty drawer that gaped from the side of his travel chest contained gold, so you can be certain that he doesn't lack the hire of an assassin or three."
"You feel then that he and his troop of hired bravos will not be back to openly harass the duchy, Lord Grahvos?" asked Klaios, looking a bit worried.
The thoheeks chuckled and shook his head again. "No, I don't. They didn't leave together, you know. When Lieutenant Bralos slew their captain, then dragged their employer off almost naked and at the points of spears, they at once elected a new captain, looted everything that could be speedily grabbed up, then rode off headed northeast, while Rahb Vawn tells me that Hahkmukos' trail veers almost due west. So far as the troop are concerned, I'll not be surprised at all are they in the camp under the walls of Mehseepolis trying to enlist in our army . . . and I'll probably recommend taking them on, for they seem to be good, experienced fighters, survivors, and such types Council can always use."
"How goes it with the young officer?" inquired Klaios, with patent and sincere concern. "When last I set eyes to him, he looked as if a herd of cattle had run over him."
Grahvos smiled. "Yes, he was a mess when he staggered back to the pavilion—all mud and blood and bruises, and barely able to talk coherently or even see where he was going. He almost brought the roof down atop us all when he walked into that main post.
"But he'll live. His nose was broken, of course, and a few teeth loosened, but the swelling has subsided enough for him to be able to see and drink broth and wine easily now."
Klaios nodded. "Good. However, I feel that I owe him suffering-price, since he was, in effect, injured in service to me and to the Duchy of Ahndros."
Grahvos reached over and gripped the komees' shoulder firmly and said in a grave tone, "You, Lord Klaios, are a true gentleman of the old school, and I thank the good God that He sent us such as you to rule these lands.
"But worry yourself not in this matter. Lieutenant Bralos has been paid in full for his injuries. I awarded him Hahkmukos' tent, baggage and furnishings, plus some of the pack mules that the bravos didn't lift to bear his new possessions back to Mehseepolis. I also gave him to understand that his name is now high on my personal list of young officers deserving preferment."
Sub-strahteegos Tomos Gonsalos greeted Thoheeks Grahvos warmly when he rode into camp with Captain Sub-chief Rahb Vawn's clansmen. The older man staggered up the steps and through the anterooms, then virtually collapsed into a chair in Tomos' office, looking to be utterly drained, thoroughly exhausted.
Deep concern on his face and in his tone, Gonsalos filled a mug with watered brandy and asked, as he proffered it, "Are you quite well, my lord Grahvos?"
"Oh, I'm not ill, Tomos, not really," groaned Grahvos. "But one more week of hell-riding with those Horseclanners would have seen me dead. Man, those little bastards ride day and night, they stop only long enough to unsaddle their mounts, slap the saddles onto remounts from the remuda, perhaps have a quick piss, then they're mounted and off again, both eating and sleeping in the saddle—at a fast amble, most often, at that."
He grinned tiredly. "But by Christ I kept up with the bastards. It became a point of personal and racial honor to me that they not be able to boast that they rode an Ehleen nobleman into the ground."
Tomos shook his head. "My lord, you are perhaps the most valuable man the Confederation has, our strongest and most faithful supporter in these southern lands, and you are no longer a young man. You could have burst your heart, killed yourself, at such foolishness. Please say that you'll not again be so stubbornly ..."
Grahvos waved his hand. "Oh, never you fear, my good Tomos, I've had a crawful and more of cavalry marching for a good long while. But I also now have even deeper respect for those damned Horseclanners of yours. Lord God, what a weapon they make for our arms. Give them enough of a remuda and I don't doubt but that they could cover the full distance from east coast to west of this onetime kingdom within three or four weeks . . . and like as not fight and win a battle when they got there."
The older man drained off his mug of brandy-water and, while his host refilled it, inquired, "Have you seen anything of a stray troop of
Ehleenoee mercenary horsemen about in the last few days, Tomos?" Then he recounted all that had transpired with the wretched and craven Hahkmukos in Ahndropolis, ending with the admonition, "So, if they do ride into camp, I'd accept their enlistments, but I'd also break them up, spread them out as far as possible among existing units of our cavalry; otherwise they just might decide to bolt in a tight place, and leave us with a gap in our battle line when and where we least can afford one."
As he stood to leave for the city, he remarked, "By the way, I have hired away one of your officers, Captain Rahb Vawn, to be my personal bodyguard; he's even now explaining his decision to Chief Pawl of Vawn. I pay well for service; besides, I'm hoping that Rahb will learn to like it well enough to stay here, marry and breed more of his kind among us. There are still rich lands lacking lords within my and many another demesne . . . which is something that all of you northerners might take into consideration when you plan for your futures.
"Now, I'm off for the palace, a hot bath and a soft, warm bed."
* * *
Four days later, Captain Thoheeks Portos marched the rest of the cavalry, the infantry, the elephants and the trains into the permanent camp below Mehseepolis —men, animals and vehicles all mud-caked, half frozen and miserable. Even the sturdy, uncomplaining elephants were showing irritability bred of the exhaustion of pushing and pulling wagon after wagon out of mudhole after mudhole day after day in icy rain or clammy mist.
"That abortion of a so-called road," Portos told Tomos after the troops had been formed up and dismissed, "has got to go to the top of the repair list. All the logs are rotted out; the only bridge that is still there, even, is the old, narrow stone one over Yahlee River; to cross the rest of the streams we had to send out patrols to seek fords. In one place there was no ford to be found, so the artificers and pioneers had to swim a treacherous and powerful current with lines in their teeth, haul over and set cables, then set the elephants to stand upstream in six feet of rushing water to partially break its force while men and horses were swum and wagons were floated across. That had to be done twice—once on the march down there, once on the march back—and that is what cost us our only deaths—nine men, two horses and two mules.
"If I hadn't believed fully that those barbarians can really talk to those elephants, Tomos, I'd have to, after this campaign. They can get those beasts to do things that I've never before seen either a draught elephant or a war-elephant perform, not in all my years of warring with and against armies that utilized them.
"And the efforts of those three elephants is all that got our trains back up here over those quagmire roads, too. Without them, we'd have been putting down draught animals right and left; as it was, when a wagon mired too deeply for the animals and the men to drag and pry it out, one of the elephants would put her forehead against the back of it and pop it out like the stopper from a bottle, then the team would be rehitched and so proceed to the next impassable stretch of slimy road.
"We didn't get to better roads and slightly drier weather until yesterday. Did the barbarian cavalry and Thoheeks Grahvos make it back yet?"
Tomos nodded, smiling. "Four days ago."
Portos hissed between his teeth. "And how many horses did they kill and founder?"
"None," the sub-strahteegos replied, adding, "I know, I know, it sounds impossible, but it's true, nonetheless. Their secret, so Thoheeks Grahvos avers, is that they never push any one mount too hard for too long. That's what their oversized remuda is for, you see. They change horses several times each day; they seldom ride really fast, but they stay in the saddle and moving for eighteen and twenty hours a day, every day, until they get where they're headed."
The tall captain shook his head. "Oh, they're all tough little bastards, I'll be the first to grant you that much. High Lord Milos chose well when he chose such as them. I'm told that they went through the best that Kehnooryos Ehlahs could field, years agone, like shit through a goose. And they went on to clobber you Karaleenoee pretty thoroughly, too, didn't they?"
Tomos sighed and nodded soberly. "That they did, friend Portos, that they assuredly did, over and over again, year after year. We kept on fighting . . . and losing men and lands and battles, for we of Karaleenos are as stubborn and as proud as any other people of the Ehleen race. Hell, we'd probably still be fighting them had not your late and unlamented High King Zastros poised so great a threat that King Zenos decided to make stand with High Lord Milo, Lord Djefree, Lord Alexandros and the rest against a common foe.
"But back to the here and now, Portos. Did you see on your march aught of the mercenary cavalry troop formerly employed by Hahkmukos? Grahvos seemed to think they might be headed back here seeking an employer."
"Oh, yes, I'd meant to mention that matter earlier, Tomos," Portos answered. "They're with my cavalry column, what's left of them as can still sit a horse, that is. About two thirds of the original troop are alive or were this morning, but most of them are wounded to one degree or another. We came on them camped and licking their wounds three days' march out of the Duchy of Ahndros."
"They ran into bandits, did they?" asked Tomos.
Portos pursed his lips. "In a manner of speaking, yes. But, no, just another rendition of the same sad old story: their newly elected captain and a brace of his close friends tried to sneak away one night with the best of the loot of Hahkmukos' camp, they were caught and killed, and then a general melee ensued. A day later, we came across them. We put down the ones who were clearly death-wounded, of course, and stuffed the ones who couldn't ride into the ambulance wagons. Our eeahtrohsee have done the best they could for them, but even so, two or three a day have died on the march. What disposition do you want made of them?"
Tomos shrugged. "Well, Grahvos wanted to hire them on for our army, but parcel them out to various existing units. I'll tell you, take the ones you want of them, if any, and funnel the rest into that squadron of light cavalry that's being raised. That's the best I can figure, just now.
"By the way, while the force was down there, Thoheeks Sitheeros brought over an officer from Iron Mountain and introduced him to me. He's the thoheeks' war-elephant trainer, one Master of Elephants Laskos. What's wrong? You know him or something of him, Portos?"
"I've never met him, no, Tomos, but, yes, I surely do know of him," replied Portos, "and I wonder just who twisted just what tails to get him down here. Sitheeros treasures him, and rightly so, too. That man was King Hyamos' captain-general of the war-elephants. He developed ways of using elephants that no one had ever before known or thought about.
"But he and the usurper, Fahrkos, couldn't get along. He was declared outlaw and disappeared; for all that Fahrkos had the lands scoured over and over, he never could catch him. Now we know that most of the years he was missing, he was holed up at Iron Mountain with Thoheeks Sitheeros.
"He's not an Ehleen, you know."
Tomos nodded. "Yes, I'd thought he didn't look like one, and he owns a singular accent in his speech, too; I've never heard one like it, I don't believe. Where did he come from?"
Portos shrugged. "Maybe Sitheeros knows, but I don't. There're tales about him, though; some say that he came south from the Black Kingdoms, up near Kehnooryos Mahkedohnya, others aver that he is from some land beyond the Eastern Ocean and came by way of Lord Alexandros' Pirate Isles, long ago, then there are those who think that he came from some place far to the west, beyond the Sea of Grass. I've never given much thought to it, any of it.
"What would you, who have at least seen him, say is his age?"
Tomos knitted up his weathered brows. "Oh, I don't know, fifty, sixty, maybe. Why?"
"Because," said Portos, "not only was he King Hyamos' elephant trainer, he also served Hyamos' father, old King Vitahlyos, which means that the man—who was a man grown, they say, when first he came to these lands of ours—must be in his eighties anyway, if not looking back at his ninetieth year."
Tomos' dark eyes widened perceptibly. "You think . . . ? Could it be possib
le? Might he be one such as High Lord Milo and the High Lady Aldora, then?
But surely, sometime over the years he has dwelt in Ehleen lands, some kooreeos or other has put him to the Test?"
Portos shook his head. "Maybe, in Karaleenos or Kehnooryos Ehlahs or some other land where religion, the old religion, has maintained a stronger hold than here, in the south. But the last dynasty—that of which Hyamos was the last king—had little use for the church and did much to weaken it, strip it of its onetime wealth and power over the nobles and commoners.
"At one time, a century or more back now, kooreeohsee were high noblemen in all save name or title, alone. They held lands and great wealth—supposedly for the Church, of course—they traveled about the kingdom in retinues that included hundreds—sub-kooreeohsee, priests, all manner of servants, fully armed retainers, female concubines or male catamites or both together depending upon their tastes, cooks, servers, all manner of artisans, grooms, entertainers, professional torturers and executioners, scribes, too many others to recount. They owned and right often exercised the power of life and death over commoners and the lower grades of nobility, and they made of extortion a fine art.
"But then, in the time of King Vitahlyos' great-greatgrandfather, Hyamos the First, they overreached themselves. They first tried to wring more concessions from him who was to be second of his house to rule, and when that failed, they refused to take part in his coronation, then plotted a rebellion against him. But he and his father before him had a broad base of support amongst the nobility, the gentry, even the commoners, and he rode out the troubles.
"Now the Church of that period had for long ruled by fear, and fear breeds hatred, so people supported King Hyamos Kooreeos-bane even more than they had before the Church tried to deny him his father's throne and have him killed for refusing to become their tool.
