" 'Oh, come, my dear King! That is quite unnecessary. You can abdicate and flee abroad with as much of the royal treasury as you can bear with you. In fact, I have your successor, the First Consul of Kortoli, already chosen. He is a muleteer named Knops: a good man who will promote your former people's welfare.'
" The people would never vote your puppet Knops into office!'
" 'Oh, yes they would, because he would have no opposition. Since I have chosen him, and since my logic is irrefutable, it follows that Master Knops is the best man for the magistracy. Anybody opposing him would be an enemy of the people, to be slain out of hand.'
" 'But Knops is not even a Kortolian!'
" 'Not now; but as your last official act, you can confer citzenship upon him. I like to keep things orderly—'
"Just then, a powerful sneeze came from a clump of alders on the Vindine side of the Posaurus. Filoman looked up, startled, and his eyes caught the glint of the sun on steel. For once he acted with admirable promptitude. He shouted to his men-at-arms: Treason! Let us fly!' And he and his men sprang to their feet and ran through the shallows to the Kortolian side of the river, where a groom held their horses.
'Truentius' guards and the men he had hidden rushed after them and brought down one of Filoman's men with an arrow; but the king and the others' got away. It had not occurred to Filoman to have more armed men waiting over the nearest hill to come to his aid, so there was nought to do but ride hell-for-leather. They galloped off into the hills of southern Kortoli and lost their pursuers.
"They lost themselves, also. They were wandering around, suffering hunger and thirst, when a woman of early middle years called to them from a hillside.
" 'Hail, Your Majesty!' she cried. 'Can a loyal subject be of service to you?'
" 'Methinks you can, good lady,' quoth Filoman. 'But how know you me?'
" 'I have powers not of this mundane sphere,' she said. 'But come on into my cave and refresh yourselves.'
" 'Mean you that you are a witch?'
" 'Nay, sire; a proper wizardess, hight Gloe. At least, I should be but for a trifle of difficulty about my license, which I am sure Your Majesty can put straight with a snap of his finger.'
"When Filoman, his two surviving men-at-arms, and the groom had refreshed themselves, Filoman said: 'I am sure the difficulty whereof you speak can be ironed out. But if you have in sooth magical powers, mayhap you can tell me how to find a commander-in-chief for my new army, which is even now drilling against the expected onslaught from Vindium.'
"Then he told her how, amongst his councillors, all those with warlike experiences—and some without—coveted the post, but none wished for anyone else to have it. In sooth, King Filoman himself worried over the prospect that a successful general might oust him from his throne.
" 'Why not lead your army yourself?' asked Gloe.
" 'I am not qualified. Being a lover of peace and of my fellow men, I have not sought experience with the bloody art of war.'
" 'Well, then,' said Gloe, 'I needs must make you a golem general.'
" 'A what?'
" 'A golem is a manlike image of clay, animated by a demon from the Fifth Plane. I shall set this demon the task of defeating the Vindines. I shall promise him that, once that is done, he may return to his own plane, leaving the image lifeless and no threat to Your Majesty. If you would fain preserve the image, you can bake it to brick and stand it on a pedestal.'
" 'But,' said Filoman, 'will this demon of yours possess the needful military skill?'
" 'He will be adequate, sire. After all, the Vindine army is itself but a rabble of shopkeepers and artisans, since most of the Vindine knightly class who have not lost their heads have fled abroad. Moreover, Truentius, for all his bloodthirsty talk, is an arrant coward who cannot bear the sight of blood. He never attends those executions he orders so lavishly.' "
"This seemed like a sound proposal, so Filoman assented. A sennight later, Gloe arrived in Kortoli City driving an oxcart wherein, padded by straw against damage, lay the image of a man seven feet tall. When the cart drew up in front of the palace, Gloe uttered a spell. Then the image threw off its straw and climbed creakily to its feet.
"It was the image of a mighty warrior in armor, wearing the insignia of a Kortolian general. Gloe had not stinted her preparations, for the clay that composed the armor and costume of the image was painted to resemble the real thing. In fact, one had to look closely to perceive that it was not in sooth a normal man of commanding aspect.
"In a hoarse, growling voice, the image said: 'General Golemius reporting for duty, Your Majesty.'
"And indeed, General Golemius proved a competent commander, even if the yellow-gray complexion of his face and hands made the soldiers uneasy.
"Another sennight passed, and word came that the Vindines had crossed the Posaurus into southern Kortoli. Filoman and his new army marched out to meet them. Filoman kept in the background and left the active commanding to General Golemius, who seemed to manage well enough.
"At length the two armies sighted each other, on a dank day of lowering clouds. General Golemius drew up his army. Filoman, mounted and attended by a small personal guard, watched admiringly from a nearby hilltop.
"When the golem general had gotten all his men in place, he stepped to the fore, waved his sword, and growled: 'Forward!' So the army clattered after their general, who tramped stolidly in the lead.
"Filoman walked his horse down the hill and followed the army at a leisurely pace. The force marched across the plain, which was broken here and there by a few small clumps of trees. As the two armies approached, Filoman saw that which startled him. Leading the Vindine army was, not First Consul Doctor Truentius, but another golem general. For Truentius, being as Gloe had said a physical coward, had had recourse to his own sorcerer. This thaumaturge had summoned another demon from the Fifth Plane to animate a general of clay.
"The armies moved slowly, because both were composed largely of green troops, whose alignment was often disordered by the trees that dotted the plain. When this happened, the two clay generals had to halt their forces and straighten them out again. And then it began to rain.
"As the armies came closer, the rain came down harder. It rang on helmets with a metallic sound; it trickled down inside hauberk and greave. And, just as the armies came within bowshot, they slowed and stopped.
"King Filoman pushed his horse forward through the rear ranks to see what had halted his host. Soon he observed that General Golemius was standing still in front of his army. Moreover, the general seemed to have lost in stature and gained in girth. As Filoman watched, the general dissolved into a mound of mud, as did the other general.
"That left both armies without commanders. Over against the Kortolians stood the Vindines, whose army was much larger. Behind the Vindine army, First Consul Truentius sat in his carriage, watching, for he had never learnt to ride a horse. When his army halted, he clambered up on the roof of his carriage to see what betid. Discovering that his general, like the other, had reverted to clay, he began to shout: 'Forward, my brave men! At them! Charge!'
"At first, his army milled and shuffled uncertainly. But then some officers, by blows and exhortations, got their units moving again.
"Meanwhile the Kortolian army, seeing a force of nearly twice their own strength bearing down upon them, began to edge backwards. Here and there a man broke from the ranks and ran. Vindine arrows began to fall amongst the Kortolians.
"King Filoman had drawn up his horse beneath a tree, to keep out of the rain. And in this tree was a hornets' nest. Because of the rain, the hornets were all huddled inside their nest and minding their own affairs, when an arrow aimed at the king flew high and skewered their nest. I know not if Penembei have insects like these, but our Novarian hornets most fiercely resent any tampering with their nests and take stern measures against the tamperer.
"As the hornets swarmed out, the first animate thing they beheld was King Filoman. He was sitting his
horse right under their bough, waving his sword and trying by cries and appeals to stem the rout of his army, in much the same vein as Truentius on the other side was harkening on his host. Presently Filoman gave an even louder yell as a hornet stung him on the wrist and another on the cheek. Then his horse whinnied, as another stung it on the arse, and bounded forward.
"Filoman's guard put spurs to their steeds to keep up with the king. The soldiers saw their king galloping straight at the foe, brandishing his sword and followed by a handful of bodyguards. Someone set up a cry of: 'Save the king!' and started running after Filoman. When some did, all did, so that what had been a rout of the Kortolians was changed in a trice into a rout of the Vindines.
"Truentius commanded his coachman to turn the carriage around; but, finding this difficult in the press, the coachman lighted down from his seat and fled on foot. Truentius then climbed into the driver's seat and tried to take the reins himself. Having no knowledge of chariotry, however, he was unable to bring the frightened horses under control. Then he got down, too, but was overborne in the rout and trampled to death.
"The Vindines fled in disorder from Kortoli. When the survivors got home, they changed their constitution to allow for two elected consuls, in the hope that the twain would watch each other and keep each other from seizing unlawful power. And, despite interludes of turbulence and usurpation, they have kept to that scheme ever since.
"Filoman rode home in triumph, notwithstanding that his face was grotesquely swollen from the sting. He was hailed as the savior of Kortoli for his desperate charge into the heart of the foe. He disclaimed credit, saying that the victor was neither himself nor his golem general, but the hornet that had stung his horse's rump. But so great was the love for Filoman that people said, ah, that is just our hero-king being modest.
"In any case, Filoman decided to stick to flesh-and-blood generals thereafter. They might have their faults but at least would not dissolve into mud at the first wetting.
"Later, Filoman's reign became more and more eccentric. He retained a ghost as his minister; he tried to abolish crime by pensioning all criminals; and he fell under the influence of a Mulvanian ascetic, Ajimbalin. This man persuaded him to lead a life of utter self-denial and mortification of the flesh, to the neglect of his kingdom and of his queen, who eloped with a pirate captain.
"The Kortolians sometimes wondered if they had not been wiser to toss Filoman out and adopt a republican scheme like that urged upon them by Truentius. In fact, they might well have done so; but, ere matters could come to a head, Filoman lost his life in a riding accident and was succeeded by his much abler son Fusinian. King Fusinian restored the popularity of the monarchy, and it has persisted down to the present day."
The king laughed heartily until he got into a fit of coughing and wheezing and had to be slapped on the back by his taster and his secretary.
"At least," he said, "we have never appointed a general of clockwork or of clay, heh heh. Chuivir may not be any Juktar the Great, but at least he bleeds if one pricks him." The king's little black eyes stared sharply at Jorian out of his puffy, round face. "That brings up a problem. Yes, sir, a problem. Two days ago, our spies brought us a rumor that you, dear boy, were not quite what you seemed—that, in sooth, you were no mere mechanic but a former ruler of some Novarian city-state. Is that true?"
Jorian and Karadur exchanged glances. Jorian muttered: "Zerlik must have been flapping that long tongue of his." He turned to the king. "It is true, Your Majesty. Your servant was king of Xylar for five years. Know you their method of succession?"
"We once knew but have forgotten. Tell us."
"Every five years, they come together in a grand assembly, cut off the old king's head, and throw it up for grabs. I became king by catching my predecessor's head when I saw it flying towards me, not then realizing what the object was and what catching it implied. When my five years neared their end, Doctor Karadur devised a method for me to escape this drastic ritual."
"Bountiful heavens!" exclaimed the king. "Here, the ruler is at least granted more than five years of tenure; albeit the principle is not wholly different. How did the Xylarians take the escape of their human toss-ball?"
"They have been after me ever since, to drag me back and complete their interrupted ceremony. Therefore I beg Your Majesty not to reveal my former status, lest the Xylarians get wind of my whereabouts and kidnap me. I barely escaped one such attempt on my way hither."
The king clucked. 'Too bad, too bad. An we could publicly proclaim that you were a former king, we could do fine things for you. What was the date of your birth?"
Jorian raised his bushy black eyebrows, but replied: "I was born in the twelfth year of King Fealin the Second of Kortoli, on the fifteenth of the Month of the Lion. Why, sire?"
"Have you taken that down, Herekit?" the king asked his secretary; then to Jorian: "We asked it so that our wise men can calculate what the fates have in store for you. Tell me: had you warlike experience during your kingship?"
"Aye, sire; quite a lot. I led Xylar's army in two pitched battles, at Dol and at Larunum, with brigands calling themselves free companies, as well as several skirmishes. I admiraled the Xylarian fleet in driving the Algarthian pirates away from our shores. Besides, I had already seen battle whilst serving a hitch in the Foot Guards of the Grand Bastard of Othomae."
"Then, my dear Jorian, you would seem to be the answer to a fat old man's prayer."
"How so, sire?"
"Look you. We know nought of warfare and make no pretense of doing so. Our senior officer, Colonel Chuivir, is, for practical purposes, as ignorant as we. He, howsomever, is not fain to admit it. For that matter, it would do the spirits of the defenders no good for their commander to avouch himself a military ninny.
"We lack time to find a replacement for Chuivir. Most of the officers in his command are, we suspect, as innocent of war as he. Our seasoned commanders are all with the frontier army. Nor can we appoint you in Chuivir's place. You are a foreigner and a commoner, whom the militia would not obey with any zeal. Moreover, Chuivir has influential friends among the nobility and officials, who would be affronted by our abruptly dismissing him ere he has had time to commit any gross blunder. Even a king with theoretically unlimited power, you know, must constantly make sure of his political support, heh hen."
"Well, sire?" said Jorian as Ishbahar hesitated.
"So we—ah—the thought has come to us: How would you like to be our military aide?"
"What would that entail?"
"Oh, you would wear a fancy uniform. In theory, you would be merely our messenger boy, to carry our commands to the forces and bring us reports of the fighting. In practice, we shall ask you to look over the military situation every day, decide what needs to be done, and advise us accordingly. We shall put your recommendations in the form of royal commands, which you shall convey to Chuivir or whomever else we designate. You will not seem to have any power over the defense but in fact will be in full command thereof. How does that strike you?"
"All I can say, sire, is that I will try my best."
"Good." Ishbahar spoke to the secretary: "Herekit! Draw up a commission for Master Jorian—yes, Ebeji?"
"Sire," said the attendant, who had just come in, "a ship's officer would speak with you on urgent business."
"Oh, curse this churlish world, that will not let a man eat a simple snack in peace! Send him in."
The visitor was a young naval officer with a drawn, ghastly look, who dropped to one knee. "Sire!"
"Well, sir?"
"Admiral Kyar is lost, and the pirates of Algarth are upon us!"
"Eh? Eh? Oh, good gods! How did this happen?"
"The—the admiral took the flagship Ressam out this morn for exercises, accompanied by two small dispatch galleys, the Onuech and the Byari. At sea, we encountered a patch of fog, which some said had the look of sorcerous fog. Then, of a sudden, a swarm of Algarthian craft sped out of the fog and surrounded the Ressam. Being un
dermanned, she could not work up enough speed to fight clear. The freebooters also took the Onuech; but the Byari, by putting the marines on the oars, won free."
"Were you in command of the Byari?" asked the king.
"Aye, sire. If Your Majesty thinks I ought to have stayed and perished with the admiral—"
"Nay, nay, you did right. Someone had to bring us word. In fact, you are hereby promoted to admiral in place of Kyar. Prepare the rest of our navy for battle." To the secretary, the king said: "Draw up a royal commission for this officer and bring it to us to sign. Now, Admiral, do sit down and try some of this—by Ughroluk's toenails, the young man has fainted! Pour water on him, somebody!"
That evening, Jorian and Karadur stood on the floor of the Tower of Kumashar that housed the clockwork. They looked towards the sea, where the Penembic navy was locked in battle with a fleet of Algarthian pirates. The largest Penembic ships, the huge catamarans, were not even sent into action for want of rowers to man them. The ships that did take part in the battle moved sluggishly for lack of oar power.
"There goes another one," said Jorian as ruddy flames enveloped a ship.
"One of ours or theirs?" said Karadur.
"One of ours, I fear; but 'tis hard to be sure in this failing light."
"How did that young fellow—what's his name—the officer whom the king of a sudden promoted to admiral, how effective has he proven?"
Jorian shrugged. "Considering the generally unprepared state of the fleet and the lack of time, there's no way to tell. Not even Diodis of Zolon, the greatest Novarian sea commander, could have done much in this man's room."
"How do you with Colonel Chuivir?"
"Methinks he suspects the true state of affairs. He seems to take the king's commands with ill grace, even if he has not yet flouted any of them. What worries me is that, if he learn that the Xylarians are after me, he may get word to them to come and take me."
"They could hardly do that, with the city surrounded and under siege."
'True, Doctor. So I'm in a pretty pass, am I not? I'm safe whilst the siege lasts. My duty, howsomever, is to defeat and break it, which will place me again in jeopardy. If on the other hand the besiegers take the city, I shall probably lose my head in that case, too." He reached up and tugged at his head. "Just making sure 'tis firmly fixed in place."
The Clocks of Iraz Page 11
