The Aebeling

by O'Neill, Michael

  ‘Good. My name is Conn il Taransay, Thane of Hama. It is my wiga that assembled in Susa. I would like to speak to Esras. Tell him it’s a matter of importance for both of us.’

  ‘So they are your troops that are massed on the border then.’

  ‘I thought I just said that. And tell Esras we’ll keep his daughter as hostage until he turns up.’

  Startled, the girl responded, far too quickly. ‘He is not my father!’

  ‘Well if he isn’t, then I’ll be very surprised. In fact, I’ll give each of these boys a gold Ryal if I’m wrong – and two gold Ryals if I’m right.’ He pointed to the two others. ‘Off you go; tell Esras that I’ll meet him on the end of the great forest tomorrow night – where we camped yesterday. Tell him also that his daughter is in no danger, but if he doesn’t turn up, he’ll have to collect her in the cotlif of the Eaorl of Susa. I will speak with him.’

  The two scampered to their feet and rode out in haste.

  Conn addressed the girl again. ‘What is your name?’

  ‘Brit; and what makes you think I am Esras’s daughter?’ She looked around as she asked and she then realized who one of Conn’s companions was. ‘You’re a Valkeri!’

  Con laughed; ‘Brit, this is Halla il Cyme. The not so good looking one is Arlen il Batra. Halla, have you met Brit before?’ Arlen was miffed. He considered himself extremely good looking.

  Halla looked at the girl. ‘No; but I have met her father several times and her mother once; if she is who you think she is. Her mother was very beautiful – she had beautiful long black hair and most unusually, the brownest of eyes – not that dissimilar to Brit really.’

  Brit was taken back and let her guard down. ‘You knew my mother?’ She then realized her mistake and blushed.

  Halla smiled. ‘I did, but not well. I was only young, about ten, when I first went to Kaniak with my mother; the next time I went back she was dead. There were rumours that the Aebeling was somehow involved in the death of your mother, but I don’t know if it was true.’

  They were now packed and mounted and riding back to their campsite of the previous night. They were as close as they could be to the forest.

  Brit assured them that it was true; Gorman was furious that her mother had chosen Esras instead of him; and after Brit was born, he tried to seduce her, and when she refused, he forced himself upon her. Something happened and somehow she ended up in the river and drowned. He claimed it was an accident, and my father believed him for some time; until one of the Aebeling’s guards confirmed to him that she had in fact died because of what the Aebeling had done to her.’

  Brit continued. ‘After he found out; he left the court – and he took me with him. We have been in “rebellion” ever since.’

  Conn interest was piqued. ‘Tell me more of your family.’

  ‘My mother was Asthore il Dor; she was the only daughter – in fact only child – of Eaorl Dinsmore il Dor and his bedda Odette il Gelah in Silekia. It is said of my grandmother that she was the most beautiful creature that anyone had ever seen. When my grandfather met her when her ship visited, it is said he refused to allow it to leave if she didn’t become his bedda. When he died, she left Dor and returned to Silekia – or so it is said. As the only child and heir of a rich domain – and an extremely beautiful woman, my mother had many suitors. Gorman – the son of the Aebeling Cathbad – had made it known that he expected her to choose him, but instead she chose my father – Cathbad much younger brother and Gorman’s uncle. Gorman never forgave her or my father. In time my father succeeded to the Eaorldom of Dor – which of course he lost when he rebelled.’

  Conn nodded. ‘I have met the current holder – he is a Rakian.’

  She nodded. ‘I heard that Gorman sold it for money to pay for his Valkeri bodyguards.’

  ‘I presume you would like it back?’

  ‘I am the sole survivor of my family – yes, I would like it back’.

  ‘And you would do anything to get it back?’

  She nodded, but looked at him suspiciously. ‘Almost anything – why do you ask?’

  ‘No reason.’

  By late afternoon, they reached their camp site, a treed mound in a small clearing; relatively secure as it was very near the forest. As they rode up, a fire was already burning, and a lone figure sat waiting. Conn laughed and cantered forward, dismounted and embraced the figure in a bear hug. It was of course Derryth and as the three rode into the clearing with looks of astonishment on their faces. Two of them had never met a Twacuman before – Halla had seen some in Rakia. Conn did the introductions to three very surprised people.

  ‘This is Derryth of Halani.’ He pointed to the others, ‘Halla of Cyme, Brit il Dor and Arlen il Batra.’

  ‘A strange collection of travel companions, Conn. And an unbarred Valkeri – you don’t see one of those every day.’

  Brit hadn’t noticed, and she looked again and gasped. Halla shrugged. The humiliation still weighed deeply with her; combined with anger and resentment – not of Conn, but of her own stupidity. Conn, she was starting to tolerate.

  Arlen was the first to alight his horse. ‘A friend of the Thane is a friend of mine.’ He shook the Twacuman’s hand.

  ‘Likewise.’

  They busied themselves preparing camp and bedding down the horses. They set sentries, Halla taking first shift. They deliberately kept themselves visible, but they didn’t want to be surprised either. Conn and Derryth did a shift together, and Conn brought him up to date with events since their last meeting some months previous.

  ‘You have been busy, old friend. And now you intend to take on the Gatinan Fyrd with two thousand horses. That could be a thankless task.’

  ‘So how many do they have.’ Conn asked.

  ‘Near ten thousand or there about – peasant men-at-arms, bowmen, that sort of thing, and about two thousand trained troops – all cavalry and all light. On top of that there are the Rakians – over eight hundred fairly seasoned cavalry.’

  ‘Less than ten thousand... I like those odds.’

  ‘You like five to one. You are strange. But it is a strange fight that the Gatinans are picking. I’m sure that they can defeat the Trokian Fyrd that you say is waiting for them at the border, but to take the keep will be difficult especially with the archers and reinforcements that you sent. It is hard to imagine how they can win as you also control the seas even if they defeat your Fyrd.’

  ‘I’m not so sure if it is about winning anymore…’

  Derryth changed topics ‘And you had an honor battle with a Valkeri. Not only are you strange, but you are mad as well! But you obviously won...’ he left the rest unsaid. ‘I know of no one who has had a Valkeri theow so that is something new. Brina will be very amused.’

  At midmorning, Arlen returned from his patrol to report that fifty or so horsemen were coming from two directions, and half an hour later, they were surrounded by archers; Esras’ brigands; but they were wise enough to stay out of bow range. Looking at the dishevelled bunch from a distance, Conn was slightly disappointed; he had hoped he had a few more than that.

  From the midst of the pack, several riders rode out, and as they got closer Conn could see a middle aged warrior, amongst several younger men, including the two boys from yesterday. The man, who must be Esras, dismounted, walked towards his daughter and hugged her.

  ‘Are you okay? Have they harmed you in any way?’

  ‘No, father; I have been treated perfectly fine.’

  Esras turned towards Conn as he sat at the campfire.

  ‘If you had harmed her in any way, I...’

  ‘Why would I harm her?’ Conn interrupted. ‘You are Esras. I am Conn il Taransay, Thane of Hama in Lykia.’ He pointed to his companions, ‘I believe you know Halla il Cyme; that is Arlen il Batra, and this is Derryth il Halani.’

  ‘Hello Esras, it has been a while.’ Halla responded.

  Eras didn’t answer her, but looked from person to person bewildered. He then addressed Halla.
‘It is nice to see you again, but I am very confused to see you here with all these people. I ...’ He noticed that she was band-less, so stopped talking again. It was all getting a bit much. He took a deep breath.

  He tried again. ‘Right, so why is a Lykian, except you don’t look like a Lykian, doing with a Moetian, a Valkeri and a Twacuman wandering around Kania, looking for me?’

  ‘I wasn’t wandering,’ Derryth added, ‘I live over the hill there.’ And he pointed the forest and the mountain behind it.

  Conn laughed, but addressed Esras. ‘I have a problem, you have a problem; I have a solution that will fix both problems. Come, sit down and I’ll explain it to you. Have you tried my black tea yet?’

  Still agitated, Esras refused to sit, but took a mug when it was brought to him, and he did listen. Conn told him firstly about the impending war between the Trokians and Gatinans.

  ‘So what do you propose to do about it?’

  ‘I want to make my way through Kania to Trokia to fight the Gatinans.’

  Esras was confused. ‘But you said that you have less than two thousand wiga? You would be crazy to attempt to engage the Gatinans with so few.’

  Derryth nodded. ‘I told him as much – but he doesn’t listen.’

  Esras shrugged; ‘Your funeral – but what does that have to do with me?’

  ‘There is a slight problem with the Kanian Fyrd – I would rather not have to engage them on the way. I would rather get the new Aebeling of Kania to just let me march on through.’

  ‘Who’s the new Aebeling? I wasn’t aware that Gorman had died.’

  ‘He hasn’t yet – but I’m proposing to change that. With him dead, you can succeed him.’

  Esras finally sat down. ‘And how do you propose to do that? I don’t think he is going to skewer himself on your sword if you just ask nicely!’

  ‘I propose to confront the Kanian Fyrd, and defeat them with the loss of only one life – the Aebeling’s – who you are going to kill for me. I was going to do it myself but you’d resent me for taking the pleasure from you. You have a better reason than me. You can then be Aebeling.’

  ‘I have no desire to keep my nephew alive but he really must have ticked you off to deserve this much special attention.’

  Conn told him about the incident with the envoy.

  After Conn had spoken, there was silence while Esras considered the offer. He continued to sip his tea. Finally he spoke. ‘And in exchange for your help, what do you want?’

  ‘Just two things, obviously free passage of my Fryd and given that the Eaorldom of Dor will be vacant – I’ll take that as my reward ... oh, and your daughter Brit’s betrothal to Arlen.’

  ‘That’s three’ Derryth added.

  ‘OK, three then.’

  Esras was dumbstruck. Brit was shocked, and Arlen burst out laughing. He spoke first. ‘Why would he give me his daughter – as lovely as she is? Didn’t you promise me a war?’

  Brit spoke next. ‘When you said, anything, I didn’t suspect this. I don’t even really know who Arlen is – why should I be betrothed to him?’ When she realized what he said, she looked at him abruptly. ‘You would prefer a war instead of me? Well, I never – am I not pretty or girl enough for you!’ She got up in huff and stormed off.

  Arlen looked helplessly at Conn.

  ‘You said it, not me. Dig your own way out.’

  Esras finally found his voice. ‘With due respect to Halla, what if I just make you all my prisoners and ransom you – I’m sure that someone – including my mad nephew – would pay a hefty price for you all.’

  Conn raised his arm and an arrow embedded itself into a tree trunk thirty inches from Esras’s head. He leapt backwards, swearing.

  ‘That’s why.’ Conn looked to Derryth. ‘Not a bad shot that, was it – from that distance?’

  Derryth nodded. ‘I’m impressed. Shocked in fact.’

  Esras looked at the arrow, it was obviously Twacuman. He shook his head. ‘The Twacuman are not going to attack me or my men – Brina would never allow it.’

  Derryth nodded, ‘That is normally true, but times change – and it is not Brina’s orders anyway – it is the Thane of Hama’s orders.’

  Esras looked at Conn, but instead of answering his question, Conn showed him his medallion.

  Eras looked. ‘You’re a Feorhhyrde? There hasn’t been a Feorhhyrde for hundreds of years – I’m not even sure what a Feorhhyrde is! Isn’t he just some mythical person who everyone is scared of…’ Esras was exasperated. ‘I don’t even know why.’

  Derryth’s tone was serious but cordial. ‘Feorhhyrde doesn’t mean anything to the Priecuman – but if we call him the Feorhhyrde than that is what he is – and if he asks us to do something we do it. Anyway, when was the last time you saw a Valkeri theow?’

  ‘Oh, enough already.’ Halla was getting annoyed that her situation was being brought up all the time. ‘I challenged him,’ pointing to Conn, ‘to an honor bout and he beat me – I lost, OK –and now I am banished from my people. Happy?’ She stormed off and sat next to Brit.

  ‘Don’t see that every day either’, Derryth said, watching her walk away.

  After a few moments, Brit returned and addressed Conn. ‘If I say yes to the betrothal, do I have to actually have to go through with it?’ She pointed to Arlen, who feigned mortification.

  ‘Not if you don’t want to. I presume you are sixteen next spring?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then you have several months to determine if you want to be bedda – to the future Eaorl of Dor.’

  ‘Earl of Dor – you are going to make Arlen the Eaorl of Dor? Why?’

  ‘I feel bad that I stole the Aebeling of Lykia from him – I think I owe him something. He would have been a good Aebeling.’

  ‘You are giving him the domain of Dor as compensation for the Aebeling of Lykia? How did you steal the Aebeling from him…I don’t understand…’

  ‘Long story. But if you become his bedda, then it is your dowry. If not you; then I’ll have to get the daughter of the Eaorl of Ar to be his bedda. I met him recently – nice fellow.’

  ‘Surely you are not serious – you would have the daughter of the Eaorl of Ar be mother to the future Eaorls of Dor?’

  ‘Does the Eaorl of Dor have a daughter?’ Conn feigned curiosity.

  She became exasperated. ‘I don’t know! – you suggested it.’

  ‘I’m sure he has to have some. He seemed virile enough to have lots of children. Anyway, all I ask is the betrothal. If you choose otherwise, I’ll send for the Eaorl of Ar’s daughter. I hope for Arlen’s sake she’s pretty.’

  She stomped. ‘Oh, you are so annoying.’

  Derryth agreed. ‘Tell me about it.’

  Conn ignored him, and turned to her father, who had watched the whole exchange with bemused curiosity. ‘Esras, you could keep your rebellion going – but unless you actually raise a larger Fyrd and attack the Aebeling, you are not going to achieve much. If you are serious about that, I’ll provide the funds – take it as prepayment for the Eaorldom of Dor’

  Esras shook his head. ‘It’s hard to rebel if you don’t want to kill anybody. It’s more an annoying exile than a rebellion.’

  ‘So what do you say? I mean – what do you have to lose?’

  He sighed. ‘Nothing that I can see – what do you want me to do?’

  Conn detailed the plan, setting the time and date. Esras looked bemused, ‘Do you really think that it’s going to work?’

  ‘If it doesn’t, it will go close, and that will minimize deaths. But I will go through – with his leave or without. Oh, and I’d like to keep Brit with me; we need to introduce her to her prospective new family – Arlen’s father is the Eaorl of Batra, and we should also ask the Healdend of Moetia for his permission.’

  Brit looked at Arlen. ‘Your father is an Eaorl?’

  He nodded. ‘I am his second son, if that is any consolation.’

  The rebel leader stood, hugged and kiss
ed his daughter and mounted his horse. ‘Very well, I will leave her in your good hands. Thane, this has been a most disconcerting day; until the appointed time and place then.’ He bowed in the direction of the Twacuman. ‘Derryth, please pass my greetings to your Aebeling’. He nodded to Halla and pulled his horse around and rode away. His Wiga had already dispensed and soon there was no one to be seen. Conn even remembered to hand over four gold Ryals.

  Brit watched her father ride away, ‘So now I’ve been bride-napped. But on the bright side, I do get to visit Moetiak. I’ve never been to a big town, and I’m not sleeping on the ground all the time. If I had money, I could go shopping for clothes.’

  ‘I’m sure that we can arrange something.’ Conn suggested. ‘Perhaps your betrothed could give you some?’

  Brit looked at Arlen. Arlen tried to look away.

  ‘After all,’ Conn continued, ‘I do pay him very well.’

  They mounted and headed home. Derryth suddenly decided to tag along.

  Halla was confused, ‘What about the wiga in the forest? Are they going to wait for you?’

  ‘No, he’ll be right, he lives there. He’s probably fallen asleep by now anyway.’

  ‘He?’ The three of them almost yelled in unison. ‘There is only one wiga there?’

  Conn was laughing, while Derryth explained. ‘I don’t have a hundred wiga roaming the forest with me, do I; it was just me and one of the sentries.’ Derryth looked at Conn, ‘You know I told him to hit the ground. Not the tree. I think his eyesight is going.’

  Brit, whose father was almost impaled by an errant arrow, was not amused this time. ‘His eyesight! How old is he?’

  ‘Over a hundred I think. He’s one of the ancients. He patrols the border. Old people need something to do.’

  Conn almost fell off his horse, he was laughing so much.

  END BOOK ONE

  Book 2 – ‘The Eaorl’

  Conn il Taransay; Thane of Atrak, Hama, and several other domains, is also a soldier, farmer, industrialist, soon to be father of fourteen; and reportedly the wealthiest man in Meshech. Despite that, he is leading a small army into hostile territory, and he’s not even at the battle front yet. Will his two thousand prevail against ten thousand, and what will happen if he fails?