Conrad's Last Campaign

by Leo A. Frankowski

  Sir Piotr said, “Very good, sir. I’ll have all of our ships at sea return to Europe by the quickest routes, unload their passengers and cargo, and head to Africa as fast as possible under ballast.”

  I said, “I still want the construction machinery and supplies to get here. I want work on the railroads and the Suez project to continue at full speed.”

  “Yes, sir. We’ll get it sorted out. How good do you think your chances are of delaying the Mongols with this raid of yours?”

  “I have no idea. All I can say is that we’ll try our best. You should proceed with defending Europe as if I had no chance of accomplishing anything at all, and that they will be hitting you with all of their forces. If I can’t stop the Mongols, I’ll be following behind them, harassing their rear.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll have all of the land-based aircraft brought back home, too.”

  “Good. And until the enemy actually attacks, I want those planes disarmed. We need them for observation, with the longest range possible. If they have guns, they won’t be able to resist making a few strafing runs, and they will get pin cushioned with arrows.”

  “The Eagles won’t like that, sir.”

  “To hell with what they’d like. There’s a war on. Conrad out.”

  I got back to my office to find Sir Vladimir and Sir Wladyclaw waiting for me.

  Sir Vladimir was one of my oldest friends, and been with me for eight years before we defeated the Mongols the first time. For many years, he had been in command of our Reserve Forces, until we had time to build enough snowflake forts to house them all in. About the same time, we finally had enough Big People to mount them all. Sir Vladimir now commanded the Mounted Infantry, the biggest unit in the Christian Army.

  Sir Wladyclaw was the son of my old friend Sir Miesko, and his wife, Lady Richeza. He had once taken two reductions in rank so that he could take command the Wolves, a cavalry unit made up of the scions of the old nobility. These men were too proud to do honest work, so they had become one of our few full-time fighting units. Most of our warriors spent most of their time being productive. But that political move on Sir Wladyclaw’s part had made him one of the most powerful men in my army.

  Sir Wladyclaw said, “The Mongols will be attacking Europe in three months time? What is your source of information on this?”

  I said. “As to your second question, you don’t have a need to know, except that I can assure you that the source of the information is reliable.”

  “I imagine that we must abandon this war in the south, and all get back to Europe,” Sir Vladimir said.

  “I don’t think that we have to go quite that far. For one thing, I don’t think that we have the transportation available to move everyone back to Eastern Europe fast enough. Many of our people must remain here, although more than half of our troops will be heading north. We will be leaving small garrison forces in the cities we’ve taken, and I want our construction projects, particularly the Suez installation, to be completed as soon as possible. No matter how it turns out, our war with the Mongols is likely to be a short one. I think that we will win it, and after that, we will still have the Muslims to contend with.”

  “If our garrison forces in the cities we’ve taken up here are too small, the Arabs will be tempted to revolt against us,” Sir Vladimir said.

  “Our garrison commanders will be instructed to use all available force against any possible revolts. They will have to be brutal. They won’t have any alternative, being under strength,” I said.

  Sir Wladyclaw said, “Yes sir. Will you be going to Poland, or staying here?”

  “Neither. Sir Piotr will command in Europe, Sir Vladimir will command our forces here, and you, Sir Wladyclaw, will be coming with me, into Mongolia. I’ll need a reliable second in command and you can take charge of the Mounted Infantry.”

  They both just stared at me, so I continued.

  “The Mongols can’t attack Europe without a sufficient number of horses and other draft animals. I plan to lead a raid into Mongol territory, the purpose of which is primarily to slaughter animals. I’ll be taking my battalion of the African Corps with me. They haven’t been blending in with the rest of the army as well as I’d hoped.”

  “Well, what did you expect? They don’t speak proper Polish, and they all wear those weird haircuts like yours,” Sir Wladyclaw gestured toward my mohawk hairdo.

  That had happened one night in Timbuktu, when I had fallen asleep with an inexperienced barber cutting my hair. She’d seen an Arabic travel guide that showed a Polish nobleman wearing a mohawk, so that’s what she gave me. It started a fad among my men, and when they were all copying me, I’d felt obligated to continue with the style myself. It was good for unit morale, and I’d gotten to like the looks of it. I had the feeling that it scared people, and sometimes, that was useful.

  The regular Christian Army already had their own weird haircut, similar to a modern military crew cut. At least it was weird for the 13th century. They had felt no inclination to adopt a new one.

  Every good army seems to need a strange haircut. The Mongols shaved a rectangular area on the top of their heads, for reasons best known to them.

  I said, “Be that as it may. I’m also taking along a battalion of Wolves, a battalion of Mounted Infantry, some artillery, some engineers, and a whole lot of Big People hauling ammunition, bridging equipment, and canned food.”

  Sir Wladyclaw said, “Let’s make it two battalions of Wolves. I have them available in this city, and this is the sort of mission that the Wolves were made for. They’re good fighters, but they aren’t very good as garrison troops, you know.”

  “Very well, two battalions of Wolves it is, and we’ll take Sir Grzegorz to command them. I’ll still need the Mounted Infantry, and everyone else I mentioned. We’re also going to need some guides who know the way to Mongolia.”

  Sir Vladimir said, “I met an Arab looking for just such a position a few days ago. He said that he has sixty men working for him. But I’m not sure if I’d trust him enough to put him in charge of anything. It’s nothing that I can prove, you understand. I just had a strange feeling about the man.”

  “Get him. We don’t have much time. I want to leave in two days, in the early morning.”

  Sir Wladyclaw said, “Two days! That’s rushing things, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is. We must get going soonest, and then we’ll have to push very hard for many months.”

  We soon got down to the details of exactly who would go, and what we had to take with us. Then we had to figure out where we could get all of that stuff, and how we could get it all here in time.

  After a while, Sir Wladyclaw glanced out the window, and said, “Whoops! Sunrise.”

  The three of us went out onto the balcony that faced east. We raised our right hands to the rising sun, and recited the Army Oath:

  “On my honor, I will do my duty to God, and to the army. I will obey the Warrior’s Code, and I will keep myself physically fit, mentally awake, and morally straight.

  “The Warrior’s Code:

  “A Warrior is: Trustworthy, Loyal, and Reverent. Courteous, Kind, and Fatherly. Obedient, Cheerful, and Efficient. Brave, Clean, and Deadly.”

  Every warrior in the Christian Army recited that oath every morning of his life. Around and below us, we could hear thousands of other warriors reciting the same oath.

  Then we went back to work.

  By noon, we had a staff of over two hundred people working on our problems. I ordered for some food to be sent up to them, and then I broke for lunch, or rather breakfast, come to think of it. I took my two main men with me.

  We were well into a decent meal when Terry, one of my eight bodyguards, announced that I had a visitor.

  My bodyguards had much in common with the Big People. They were both bioengineered creations that had been produced in the same labs, owned by my Uncle Tom, the time traveler. But while the Big People were designed to look like horses, Terry and her ancestor Maude w
ere designed to be bodyguards, dancers, housekeepers and child care workers. They looked like very innocent young women, school girls, with small breasts and thin flanks.

  But they weren’t! They were in fact unbelievably strong and fast. They had been trained to be absolutely deadly, when the situation required it.

  Reproducing by voluntary parthenogenesis, they had a sort of racial memory that emerged when they were four years old. At that point, they remembered everything that their mother knew up to the time of conception. They had all of her deadly knowledge of the martial arts, and all of her nice ones, like singing, dancing, taking care of children, and making marvelous love.

  They had their quirks. The most obvious of these was their refusal to wear clothing, except for the smoothest and loosest of silk dresses, and then only under protest. They said that clothes were confining, scratchy, and made them itch. And every one of them always carried a small, hiltless sheath knife, very thin and sharp, resembling a kitchen knife.

  “He said that he is Ali Mohammed Ahmed bin Maimed, but that we should just call him Ahmed,” Terry said.

  I said, “That’s some relief, anyway.”

  Sir Vladimir said, “He’s the guide I told you about.”

  “Well, send him in.”

  A swarthy fellow came in and bowed very low. His clothing had once been expensive, but it was showing a lot of wear. A bath and a haircut wouldn’t have hurt matters either. He was working very hard at pretending not to notice the twenty-two stunningly beautiful naked ladies around him. The four men in the room were fully clothed, of course, since I wasn’t one of the sort who takes equality too far.

  I think that he tried to say that he was honored to be in my august presence, but his Polish was atrocious.

  “Perhaps it would be more convenient to speak in Aramaic,” I said in Aramaic.

  “Indeed, my gracious lord. You are truly as well-educated as rumor has said,” he answered in the same language.

  “Thank you,” I said. I didn’t feel like telling him that I had learned his language when I was a slave in Timbuktu. “Now then, I intend to go into Mongolia, leaving early, the day after tomorrow. I gather that you have been there?”

  “Several times, my noble lord. My men and I have often acted as guards and guides for the caravans traveling the ancient Silk Road.”

  “Good. I am primarily concerned about finding the proper passes through some of the intervening mountains. We can discuss the route later. First, we will have to see that you and your men are properly armed and armored. You will have to be introduced to our Big People, who will look like horses to you, although they are not. They are people. If the Big People accept you, you are in. This is important, because they can travel seven times farther in a day than horses can. Without them, you could never keep up with us.”

  He didn’t reply, so I continued, “All of you will be well armed, armored, and fed the same food that I will be eating, at army expense. Tentatively, your pay rate will be that of a knight banner, some sixteen European pence a day. Six of your men at your choosing will be paid as knights, at eight pence a day. The rest of your men will be paid as pages, at two pence a day. I’m not sure how much that is in the local currency.”

  “Ah, but I do, my generous lord. What you suggest would be most acceptable.”

  “Good. Have your men in the courtyard at mid-afternoon. But for now, are you hungry? I mean, have you eaten lately?”

  “It happens that it has been a most busy morning, your grace, and …”

  “Girls, get him a plate, silverware, and a cup. Set him up at the end of the table.”

  He watched us very carefully while we ate and used the silverware unfamiliar to him, but in the end, he ate quite a bit. Obviously, Ahmed had been going through some hard times lately.

  After lunch, Ahmed went to collect up his men, and I sent a few of my household messengers out to find at least sixty-one unattached Big People for the testing.

  My African friend Juma had a strange, perhaps psychic talent for seeing what he called manna. Everyone in his tribe could do it. It seemed to be something like the aura that some psychics said that they saw around some people. Observing a person’s aura, Juma claimed to be able to tell much about a person’s character and about any crimes that the person had committed. I’d found it hard to believe, but I’d seen repeated proof of it.

  Weirder still, the Big People seemed to be able to the same thing, only better. And my bodyguards had been created in the same facility that made the Big People.

  I called Terry over.

  “Terry, the Big People can look at someone and tell if he is good or evil. Can people like you do the same thing?”

  “Yes, your grace.”

  “Interesting. How do you do it?”

  “Well, you look at them, and you know.”

  I said, “That doesn’t tell me much.”

  “Well, how do you know if something is black or white or red? You look at it and you know!”

  “You are saying that you can’t explain it to me anymore than I could explain colors to a person who had been blind from birth?”

  “Yes, your grace, I suppose that I am.”

  “Humph. Anyway, we are going on a raid into Mongolia, to see if we can slow down their invasion of Europe. I will need you and your sisters with me, although I will be leaving the human girls here behind. Is this all right with you?”

  “Of course, your grace.”

  “Good. Ahmed says that he and his people can guide us there. I want to see what the Big People think of him and his men. If they are not trustworthy, we are better off without them. I’ll also want the opinion of you and your sisters. If they are truly evil, we might have to kill them. Please have all of your sisters in the courtyard when Ahmed gets back with his men.”

  “Yes, your grace.”

  I spent another hour with the people who were getting things organized for the raid. Many of the things and people we needed were located north of here, on the way to Constantinople. We would be able to pick them up on our way to Mongolia.

  I was told that some sixty-five Big People had collected in the courtyard. I went down to talk to them.

  “Sisters!” I said to them in Polish, the only language, besides the simplified Polish Pigeon, that they could understand, “The Mongols are planning to attack Europe again! I think that if we raided them first, and killed most of their horses, we might be able to stop, or at least delay their next invasion. To do that, we have to go to Mongolia, and we don’t know the way there. Some men have said that they can guide us, but I don’t know if they can be trusted. I need you to tell me if each of these men will serve us well, or if they will betray us. If you find one that you feel is a good man, he can be your brother, your partner. But if you reject him, we will dispense with him. Do you understand?”

  They all nodded ‘yes’, just as their ancestor Anna had always done. In fact, they all remembered being Anna. They had the same ancestral memories that my bodyguards had.

  “Very well. I know that I can put my faith in you.”

  Terry and her sisters got there just before Ahmed and his men arrived.

  “Gentlemen,” I said in Aramaic to the guides, “You will observe the beings here that look like very excellent horses. They are not horses. They are people, people who are members of our army, and paid as much as you will be, if you are accepted. And if they accept you, they will soon be as members of your own family. They will be your sisters, and you will learn to think of them as such.”

  The Big People entered into the mass of men, looking each of them over carefully. Ahmed was quickly accepted by one of them, and led to the side. This soon happened forty more times. But in the end, there were twenty men who had not been selected.

  I turned to Terry, who was standing at my side.

  “That’s one hell of a rejection rate! Are all of those men truly evil?”

  “Most of them are, your grace. But those two over there, who are holding themselves
apart, have done some very wrong things, yet in their hearts they are not truly bad men. There is hope for them, yet.”

  “Bring the two of them over here.”

  When this had been done, I said to them, “You two have done some very wicked things! Yet there is still some hope for you. Get out of here and find some honest work. But if you commit another crime, know that you are being watched! You will be punished!”

  That wasn’t true, but it seemed to have the desired effect.

  They looked at each other and left, quickly, without saying a word.

  I turned to Ahmed.

  “What’s the story with these men?”

  “My lord, I do not know!” Then he bowed his head and said, “My lord, I have not been completely honest with you. I told you at noon that I had sixty men, and this was completely true at the time. But when I went to them and told them what our job would be, a third of them refused to go! Things are moving in Mongolia now. The Mongols are probably preparing for yet another war. As individuals, or in small groups, these people can be reasoned with, but when gathered into armies, they will often slaughter anyone they come across, just to keep them from reporting that an army of Mongols has passed in such and such a direction!”

  He took a deep breath, and then continued, “But I had promised you sixty men, and I knew of another, smaller group, who were also looking for work, although I did not know them well. I suggested that they join us, and they were willing.”

  I said, “So all of the men who were accepted by the Big People have worked for you for years? And all of these others were hired an hour ago?”

  “It is true, your grace.”

  I found that I believed this man.

  I said to my bodyguards in Polish, “Ladies, I want these rejects escorted to the palace prison. We’ll sort this out later.”

  Then, in Aramaic, I said to those who had been rejected by the Big People, “Something is very wrong here. I’m placing you in detention until we can resolve this matter. My bodyguards here will escort you. If you are innocent, you will be well paid for your time, and you will be well fed in any event.”

  Ahmed said, “These pretty little girls are your bodyguards? Surely, your grace, this is madness!”