The Aebeling

by O'Neill, Michael

Conn waited until he had an opportunity to speak. ‘So I guess someone needs to tell them then.’

  They looked at him sharply. Tonbert broke the silence. ‘Tell them? Tell who?’

  ‘The Moetian Healdend; tell them that Lykia awaits with pleasure the arrival in the spring of the new Aebeling and his bedda, the Healdend’s daughter,’ and before anyone could interject, he continued, ‘and of course it would be very rude for Lykia to send such a message by courier. It would behove Lykia to send a small fyrd to Moetiak to await the decision, and to bring them back safely to Lykiak. At least, that’s the way we would do it in Taransay.’

  Mentioning Taransay always brought the worst out in the Eaorls. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, they wouldn’t accept that Taransay was superior in anything in Meshech – let alone Lykia.

  The Eaorls looked around in discomfort at each other, except for Octa. He was becoming very used to Conn and his manoeuvring of the Eaorls for his own benefit; and he fought to control an urge to burst out laughing.

  Tonbert continued; ‘And who should we send to deliver the message?’

  Conn took his chance. ‘I think that Daray is the best suited. He has worked with the fyrd for three years. They respect him; and he is family to most of you. I think he would represent Lykia well.’ Daray of course looked at him in shock so Conn kicked him in the shin – just hard enough to get the point across – don’t react.

  They of course fell into his trap and as Tonbert spoke, Octa choked on the ale he had started to drink. They looked at him with concern, but he waved them away.

  ‘Surely he is too young; I love the boy, but I think that he lacks the experience to represent the Witan of Lykia.’

  Conn gave Octa an injured look as the Eaorl spluttered his beer into his beard. ‘Well, with the Witan’s permission, I guess I could go with him – unless of course any of you want to go?’

  The Eaorls looked around at each other, each knowing that none of them wanted to make the arduous trip. They were all older, fatter, and more pampered than five years ago. Prosperity had reached all domains in Lykiak – a hard road journey was not something they liked doing. As they nodded amongst themselves, they conceded that it was probably the right thing to do.

  They did however give Conn instructions on what to say – to even request more time. He also got their permission to take a fyrd of four hundred - 100 Lykians and 300 of his own wiga. Conn justified it by the need to make a good impression.

  In truth, Conn was getting ominous signals from Halani about the build-up of Gatinan troops, and this was one way to get a significant number of men half way to Trokia – just in case. The Moetian might not look positively on five hundred cavalry crossing their borders.

  Later, Allowena begged to go as well. She felt in need of an adventure – her “father” hadn’t let her become bedda last year when she was able, despite the many offers she had received, so she decided that Conn actually “owed” her. He agreed – he had decided to take her from the very beginning but wanted it to be her idea.

  A few weeks later they headed out; one hundred riders from Lykiak travelling with them, and three hundred that would be waiting for them in Urfa on their way to Moetiak. Each rider led two horses; a one playing pack horse while the other rested, as this allowed them to travel much quicker than if they only had one riding horse. Conn also took a few extra horses, including the Elfina filly who had been a constant companion since he had received her from Oisin. Now two years old, she was more like a like a pet dog than a horse, as she was still unridden. She wandering around at her own free will; and where ever he rode, she travelled alongside – no bridle or saddle, so there was no real way of leaving her behind anyway.

  Pacing the march at around twenty miles a day, it was a three day ride to Urfa, another three to climb the mountains and arrive in Moetia. The pass snaked its way up and around the mountains, leading to a large plateau where the Moetian border guards resided to extract tariffs on all goods entering Moetia. From there, it was another nine days into the Cotlif itself.

  It was the middle of summer as they rode into Moetia. They had sent word by ship that an envoy from Lykiak would be arriving on horseback – escorted by a small fyrd as an honor guard – so it didn’t surprise Conn that they were met at the border by a welcoming party of a company of cavalry, and a very nervous keep official. Conn was first through the pass, and the noise of his fyrd’s arrival saw a dozen men scurry out of the Inn and to their horses. He pulled up outside the Inn as his men marched past.

  A small middle aged and slightly fat official pushed his way to the front of the group of men, and he stood open mouthed as the supposedly four hundred wiga in full Lykian surcoats, mounted on some of the best horses in Meshech, filed past. In fact there was over six hundred but Conn hoped that no one was counting.

  The official was ashen as Conn alighted from his horse and walked towards him. Daray followed. He stuttered in greeting.

  ‘I.. I.. I.. presume you are the Thane of Atrak’, he was reading from a small document, and he looked to Daray, ‘and you are Daray, Folctoga?’

  Conn replied. ‘That is correct. And you are?’

  ‘I… I… I… am Finghin, second secretary to Driscol il Healdend il Moetia’ puffing his chest out as he spoke.

  Conn and Daray looked at each other, ‘Congratulations’, Conn added. ‘And thank you for coming to meet us. It was not necessary. I’m sure we could have found our way to the Cotlif.’

  As Conn was speaking the last of the fyrd filed past. They now stood quietly except for the snickering and stamping of the horses.

  Finghin regained his composure. ‘The Healdend would like to know why you needed to bring so many wiga.’

  ‘In respect of course; we wanted to ensure that the new Aebeling would be safe on his journey into his new domain – just in case there are some that might not be so happy with the decision; and would you have the Healdend’s daughter exposed to such dangers?’

  Conn decided that offense was the best form of defense. ‘Would you?’ he demanded.

  Finghin had no answers, ‘No, of course not.’ But he tried to get back on the offensive, ‘but it will not do to have them in the Cotlif, you will have to leave them outside – up here perhaps.’ He didn’t quite expect Conn’s response.

  ‘Of course, I would expect nothing else. What is the nearest Burh to here? Perhaps the Thane will provide me with lodgings for the fyrd until we are ready to return? I will of course pay him for the inconvenience.’

  Poor Finghin was taken aback; he expected to have to keep arguing so he stood with his mouth open, until Conn spoke again. ‘The nearest Burh?’

  ‘Umm, err, that would be Susa, and it is a half a day’s ride from here. But it is not a Burh, it’s a Cotlif.’

  ‘OK, an Eaorl then. Even better; so let’s get started; I don’t want to be here in the dark.’ And he turned and mounted the horse and rode down the hill to his troop. Finghin still stood in his spot, he had lost the initiative and control, and he was not used to that. Second secretary to the Healdend was a very senior position; it demanded respect in Moetia.

  Daray had already made his introductions to Finghin’s Folctoga and had directions; he set the fyrd forward, while Conn waited for Finghin to catch up. The horse that Finghin rode was actually one of Conn’s – he had been selling horses for a couple of some years now, and they all commanded high prices. Finghin must indeed be of some importance and wealth to afford the gelding; the progeny of his Anglo Arabian stallion and one of the mares that he had received from the Rakian slavers.

  As he rode up Conn commented, ‘I see you are riding one of my horses.’

  ‘Your horses? But it is of Hama… of course, my mistake – I had forgotten that the Thane of Atrak was also the Thane of Hama. It is almost unheard of for one man to be Thane of so many Burhs -- I heard that you are a Thane seven times over. Is that true?’

  Conn shook his head. ‘Six – I relinquished the Thane fief of Haran to my bed
da – we have four daughters together.’

  ‘A female Thane – how very unusual! Anyway, it is my pleasure to meet the breeder of this horse, he is a magnificent animal – he cost a small fortune of course.’

  The gelding was somewhat small and poorly shaped which was why he was sold, but his dappled grey hide still made him an impressive animal.

  Finghin looked curiously at Conn ‘I am even more surprised to find you here then, Thane; it is rumored that you are the richest man in Lykia. Why would you be riding a horse? Do you not own a fleet of ships – the ones with the brown sails?’

  Conn laughed; ‘I am surprised that you have heard of me at all, Finghin, that my small success is discussed so far away. As for the riding, it is one of the real pleasures in life. So what can you tell me about the Eaorl of Susa? ‘

  Abruptly Finghin said, ‘The Eaorl is dead; and his family is gone. The current “Eaorl”, if you can call her that – is the last Eaorl’s surviving bedda. Her name is Aerlene, and she is the sister of our Healdend, and it is only because of her relationship that she has been allowed to keep the domain,’ he said this with displeasure in his voice, ‘but the Healdend has few relatives and finds his only sister impossible to refuse.’

  ‘Does she not have children?’ This question came from Allowena who was now riding at Conn’s side. Finghin was most surprised to see the girl there; he had not noticed her arrive. He was taken aback. Conn did the introductions.

  ‘This is my daughter Allowena. I brought her along as a travelling companion for the Healdend’s daughter, should she need one. Please forgive her impertinence.’ As he said this she punched him in the shoulder. ‘Oww’

  Finghin regained his composure. ‘No, she is barren, and the Eaorl did not have other bedda with children either. She was his last; he was quite old when she joined him.’

  Conn reclaimed the conversation as he nursed his arm. ‘Anyway, will she have room for four hundred wiga and a thousand horses?’

  ‘It is a sparsely settled and large domain, with high rocky ground and not as many fertile plains or fields as those in the lower country. I think she will have room for you all – if she is prepared to allow you to stay.’

  ‘Oh, I find I can be very persuasive when I need to be.’

  Conn quizzed Finghin about the court and the Healdend’s daughter under the context as his future leader’s bedda, he would like to get to understand her – and sixteen year olds were hard to understand at best. He was punched again for this comment.

  It was late afternoon when they arrived in sight of the cotlif, having travelled through forests and fields with ripening grains. It was competently done but far below its potential. Conn and Finghin reclaimed the spot as leader of the column with Daray and the Moetian Folctoga. They had sent someone on ahead, and a small group of wiga waited for them as they arrived. It was led by an attractive woman in her early forties, dressed in trousers and jacket, but open at the front to show that she really was a woman; her long black hair flowing behind her. Conn halted the column, as she walked her horse towards them. Finghin did the introductions, and Aerlene addressed Conn.

  ‘So, you would have four hundred of your men camp in my fields?’ and she looked at Finghin with her second comment ‘so that my beloved brother doesn’t have them beating up his Cotlif guard?’

  By the tone, Conn guessed that there was a history of disagreement between the two, and when Finghin explained that the Healdend had requested that all the Lykians not go into to Cotlif, she shrugged off his explanation. She continued abruptly. ‘This bedda business could take some time – what would you have your wiga do while they wait? Ransack the place?’

  Conn explained, ‘Eaorl, these men, and some women, whilst the excellent wiga, are also some of the best Craeftiga and farmers that you will find; so, with your permission I would have them working in the field assisting your farmers or your Craeftiga. You will not find them a burden – I can assure you of that – and I will also reimburse you for any resources that we consume. I will also pay you a three hundred gold Ryals just for the loan of your fields. Half now – half later.’

  ‘A hundred and eighty thousand Ryals?’ Aerlene echoed in disbelief. Finghin had also almost fallen off his horse. That was an extremely large amount of money, and even more significant when Conn retrieved a purse from his saddlebag and handed it to Aerlene. She looked inside the bag. ‘My brother would sell you a Thane fief for that! But what can I say, but welcome. Yes, welcome, welcome. My home is your home, my bed is your … well let’s not go that far’.

  All this time, she was fondling the purse of money. She looked to one of the men who rode with her, her Burhgerefa, and gave instructions; ‘Well, give them what they want, let them have anything – except your daughters!’

  Wuffa, Wilgar and Daray rode forward to negotiate an area to set up their camp – which ended up being an unused rocky but stable slope just north of the cotlif. Soon they were hard at work with tools levelling sites, building drainage and erecting yurts for themselves and temporary yards for the horses. By nightfall, the whole company was ensconced into position, with eighty yurts filling up the horizon. Tomorrow they would start building more substantial structures to hold their animals currently hobbled or tied to lines.

  Conn introduced Aerlene and her Burhgerefa to Wilgar, who, as temporary Kaptain of the Lykian wiga, would remain in Susa to supervise. The actual Kaptain, Daray, would continue on into Moesiak with Conn and Allowena.

  With the men settled, Aerlene invited Conn and his entourage to her keep for supper, and as they ate in the dark, musty and decaying longhouse, Conn caught Aerlene studying him as he looked around the room – she suddenly looked embarrassed.

  ‘My apologies for the state of my house, Thane; I think that you must find this building below your expectations. I have heard that the keep in Atrak is the most splendid thing that anyone has ever seen. Our merchants speak about it all the time – I understand that they are invited to eat with you when you are there.’

  Merchants – particularly drunk ones – are a great source of information, and Conn had dinner with merchants most nights of the week. As well as his own ships, Atrak had visitors from all ports around northern Meshech.

  ‘I enjoy their company. As for your house, Eaorl; it is elegant – if a little smoky. I have a preference for keeping my lungs clear of wood smoke. It is better for your health. If you like, I can have my wiga do some renovations for you that would make your house as good as any in Lykia.’

  ‘I would like that,’ she paused. ‘But you can’t actually call me Eaorl – my brother the Healdend has granted me the right to stay here as long as I want – but without an heir… just call me Aerlene.’

  ‘Such are the politics of these things. Anyway, if there is anything else that my men can do; all you have to do is ask. Everyone is a skilled craeftiga but be aware that we do a lot of things different to what is usually done – and as far as I can see so far, our ways are better, so I hope you will be guided by their ideas and suggestions.’

  Aerlene nodded in agreement. ‘I would be a fool to do anything otherwise.’

  They discussed their trip to the Cotlif the next day and Aerlene suddenly informed them that she would be travelling with them.

  ‘I’m suddenly very interested in my niece’s bedda negotiations, as it has become a lot more fascinating, and whilst I despise life in Moesiak, I think I’d like to see what is going to happen. Oh, and I have several thousand extra reasons to visit the Cotlif.’

  With the Eaorl of Susa as their escort, the ride to Moetiak was much more comfortable that it could have been; with the Thanes and Eaorls along the way making them welcome and providing dry sleeping space within their keeps. Conn insisted on paying his way – excessively – which made everyone happier still. Whatever Inns and liveries that did exist were easily filled by the twenty accompanying wiga.

  They arrived at the outskirts of Moetiak at mid-morning, and Conn was impressed by its size – it was
clearly the largest settlement that he had visited so far. It took them some time to travel through the “suburbs” before even arriving in sight of the walls of the keep. They looked old. Conn asked when they were built.

  ‘Well before the arrival of the Moetians – Moetiak is built on the site of an ancient Ancuman cotlif that had been abandoned for over a hundred years before our ancestors arrived over four hundred years ago...’

  Finghin advised Conn that accommodation had been organized for his group in the barracks inside the keep; he would find some other arrangement for Allowena.

  Conn declined. ‘That won’t be necessary – I have arranged my own accommodation.’

  ‘You have?’ He was genuinely surprised.

  ‘Yes; I have a friend – the Trokian merchant Abrekan – who has made his Inn available for me to stay at. It’s called the ‘Boar’s Head’ – do you know it?’

  ‘I do. It was once the worst Inn in town but is now the best ... I understood that the merchant spent a lot of money to improve everything. I heard that craeftiga even arrived from Lykia to work on the building – and even the Innkeeper is from Lykiak.’

  Conn nodded. ‘Yes – they were craeftiga from Atrak. Anyway, I’ll be staying there with my men. Does that present a problem for you?’

  ‘No, not at all - we just presumed...’

  The Inn was tucked away in the old part of town, near the docks, and it was easy to spot as they got closer as it was the only building that had been freshly painted, had a new shingle roof, a chimney, and had pavement and drains surrounding it. It was clean in a sea of mud. Finghin left them; saying he had to report to the keep.

  Aerlene waited and watched Finghin leave.

  ‘Thane; I’m looking forward to seeing you later at the Keep; I wonder what my brother is going to make of you...’ She winked at him. ‘Maybe I will even come back later... we shall see… now I need to buy some clothes.’ She turned her horse and rode away.

  Conn’s wiga moved into the livery that was next door to the Inn; it had a second level that was for fodder and accommodation – it also housed Conn secret pigeon dovecote.