Mamelukes

by Jerry Pournelle

  “Aye, Tilly,” her brother called. He looked to their father for consent, and got a nod. Balquhain was frowning deeply as he loped off after the young warriors, and Tylara turned to Ganton.

  “Majesty, is this true? You seek not my advice, because it is your will that I quit the office of Justiciar?”

  “Trial!” someone shouted. “Court of Chivalry!”

  And was answered by another, “How can there be trial when the Justiciar is not fit—”

  “A woman as Justiciar when the Wanax is no longer a minor!” someone else shouted.

  Jesus, Rick thought. Now they’re saying she isn’t fit to head a court of chivalry. There could be many reasons for them thinking that way, but one would be a disaster. Did they know of the Children of Vothan and how Caradoc came to die? How much of that story has got out? But the clans aren’t reacting, they’re supporting her, so they can’t be thinking of her as Caradoc’s murderer, they’re loyal. Now. But for how long? What in God’s name—

  Senior Warrant Officer Larry Warner had been moving slowly towards Rick. “Colonel, I couldn’t get to you earlier. While you were in Strymon’s camp last night, the barons and old Drumold had a hell of a fight over this High Rexja thing. The clans think if Ganton becomes High Rexja, he won’t need the Tamaerthan alliance.”

  “Not true,” Rick said.

  “Maybe you know that, but the clansmen don’t. Hell, Skipper, there was talk about pressing the old Drantos claim to all the Tamaerthan lowlands. A couple of the border lords got liquored up and said Drantos writ used to run through the Garioch, even, and—”

  “Bloody hell,” Rick muttered. “No wonder Drumold’s upset.”

  “There’s more. There were rumors flying about Lady Tylara and assassins.”

  “Specifics?” Christ, Warner knew all about Tylara and the Children of Vothan. He was one of the group that uncovered that secret!

  “Nothing specific. It’s pretty clear they have maybe fifth-hand information. The only name I heard was Dughuilas, and nothing certain about him.”

  Dughuilas was supposed to have been murdered by a prostitute’s daughter. Few mourned him. But still too close to home, Rick thought. Too close indeed. It was a near certainty that he had been brought down by one of the Children of Vothan who took orders from Tylara and no one else.

  “Thanks, Larry.”

  “There’s more, Colonel, but maybe it’ll wait.”

  Someone else was shouting “Trial!” as another was drowned out by Drumold’s roars in the Old Speech. Everyone began yelling.

  “Treason! Woman Justiciar! Lord Rick brings us victories! Beargha hai! Long live the victorious Lord Rick! Conflict, conflict—” Half the councilors and most of the clansmen were shouting. Some councilors sought Rick’s eye before shouting the names of battles he had won. It was clear enough he had support up there, but how much?

  “Who can I count on?” Rick asked.

  “All of us, that’s for damn sure,” Warner said. “But there’s more to that story, too.”

  The mercenaries and the clansmen. For now. Enough to get out of here alive, unless Ganton takes a hand. For a moment Rick regretted giving Ganton a Browning pistol. How much practice has he had with it?

  The group fell silent as Ganton stood.

  “Enough,” he said. His voice was low but clear. “My Lady Tylara, Eqetassa of Chelm, we are more than aware of the service you have given us. You came to this great office during our minority. You held it during the critical years when few sought any office I could bestow! You have held this burden long. Long enough, long enough! Now you have duties to your own family. Your children grow up without you. Surely this is a burden you would willingly lay down?”

  “I have offered to do so many times,” Tylara said. She didn’t sound very eager.

  “And this time your offer is accepted,” Ganton said. “I mean no more than that. Lord Enipses, it was not well said to question My Lady Tylara’s right as Eqetassa, and whoever advised you to do so is no friend to you or to the realm!”

  “Majesty, if Tylara is to be dismissed, then perhaps it’s time I laid down my offices as well,” Rick said. “With peace to the north, Drantos no longer needs a Warlord.”

  “That was no part of this plan!” Lord Enipses shouted. “Lord Rick, we meant you no disrespect.”

  “No disrespect? You dismiss My Lady wife, you question her titles, and you say you mean no disrespect to me?!” Rick began removing his gauntlet. By God I’ll challenge him!

  “They’d heard all wasn’t good between you and Tylara,” Larry Warner said urgently. “Hell, Colonel, I thought that myself! They thought they were helping you. Take it easy, Sir!”

  “Easy! By God—”

  “Hold!” Ganton shouted. “My Lord Rick, clearly some here have been misinformed.”

  Rick looked around for friends. There were a few among the Drantos lords. Bisso and the mercs looked steady enough. And the clansmen were fidgeting. Drumold had stopped shouting, but his face was red and contorted. There was a stir in the Tamaerthan camp where Balquhain had followed the dunie wassails. They’d be stringing bows. Balquhain should be able to control them. Should be. But what in hell is going on here? He dropped his voice to a near whisper.

  “Tylara, what do we do?”

  “I think I see the pattern,” she said. “Will you trust me to deal with this?”

  “Thank God. Yes, of course.”

  “Majesty,” Tylara said. “You have won a great victory, yet the armies of the Five Kingdoms remain in the west. Will you send my husband to deal with them? Naturally I will accompany him. I have not been home to my children since this war began. And as there are matters of import to be decided at Court, matters that admit of no delay, I willingly return the office of High Justiciar to Your Majesty to dispose of as you will.” She removed the chain of office and handed it to a frightened page. “Take this to the Wanax,” she said.

  “We accept,” Ganton said. “You have my thanks and gratitude for your service to the realm, and to me.” He turned towards Rick. “Lord Rick, Warlord, we charge you to return to the west and expel all foreign armies from our lands. We will next see you at a Great Council of the Realm, where we shall consider all these matters. Warlord of Drantos, you have my thanks. You have good leave to leave us.”

  “Majesty.” Rick backed away two paces and turned. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” he muttered.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  MOVING OUT

  It was as near noon as anything was on Tran. The True Sun stood an hour past overhead, while the Firestealer had an hour to go. Rick had learned that sun time has a different meaning when there is more than one sun.

  Rick sat in the vestibule of his command tent. All around him the army was packing gear. Knots of men stood near the battlefield, gesticulating wildly as they tried to make an even division of the spoils and trophies of the battle. Beyond them at the central encampment there were shouts and curses as each group tried to claim what it thought was a fair share of supplies and provisions, wagons and packhorses. Nothing was packed and ready to go.

  “So just how long until we can get on the road?” Rick demanded.

  Sergeant Bisso shook his head.

  “We’re ready, but as to the others, damfino. Jesus, Colonel, what a mess, never thought there’d be this much trouble just breaking camp!”

  “In war, everything is very simple, but the simplest things are very difficult,” Rick said. “Clausewitz, who knew what he was talking about.”

  “Whole damn army’s coming apart,” Larry Warner said. “And I have a message from Lady Tylara. She says the Second Light Cavalry from Chelm wants to go with you.”

  “Why not, they’re from the Littlescarp,” Rick said. “That’s their home, and Tylara’s their colonel—”

  “Sure, Skipper,” Warner said, “but Ganton wants them with him. Ordered Lady Tylara to turn over command to one of his barons. Can’t blame him much, he’s learned how bad he needs scouts and
those nobles don’t like the job.”

  “Only his barons never did like having peasant-class horsemen with the army,” Bisso said. “And peasant-class officers they hate like the plague. Which brings us to the artillery and cannon company.”

  “Oh,” Rick said. The light cavalry officers were yeomen freeholders. Not quite peasants, but the Tran aristocracy tended to regard them as no better. Worse, from their view, if an able man showed enough initiative, Tylara had learned that it was better not to inquire too closely into his father’s status. Born bound or born free, good officers were hard to find. And all of the artillery troops, whatever their rank, were from the cities, free men, middle class. Of course that wasn’t the term the nobility used. They’d talk about townsmen and burgher, when they were being polite. Usually they had ruder terms. Tylara’s clansman background gave her a different attitude from the other great lords of Drantos, but it had taken even her a lot of effort to accept the notion of middle-class officers mixing with the hereditary baronage.

  “The nobility hasn’t ever liked the gunners to begin with,” he said.

  “Can’t blame them,” Warner said. “Those ironheads aren’t that stupid, they can see that middle-class gunners are their class enemy.”

  Rick nodded.

  “‘Nay, said the cannoneer, firing from the wall. For iron, cold iron, shall be master of you all.’ A lesson the Drantos chivalry hasn’t quite learned, but they’re beginning to get the picture. So what’s the problem? The scouts and gunners want to go home, and the Great Lords of the Realm don’t want them in the army in the first place. Sounds like the problems solve themselves.”

  “Yeah, except you taught that kid king of theirs too well,” Sergeant Bisso said. “He knows damn well he’s never going to beat the Five Kingdoms with heavy cavalry alone. He hasn’t got enough to begin with, and it’s odds on the Five Kingdoms troops are every bit as good as his. Better if Strymon leads them.”

  Warner nodded agreement.

  “If Wanax Ganton is going to win this new campaign the barons have their hearts set on, he’ll need a combined arms army. Only he hasn’t got one. Drumold’s taking the clansmen home, you’re taking the scouts and gunners—what’s he got left besides the chivalry? Some of his native pikes, some hired crossbows, and the Royal Guard, but hell, even they look to you for leadership.”

  “Here she comes,” Bisso said.

  Tylara rode up, her expression grim.

  “The Wanax demands use of our Chelm Light Cavalry,” she said. “Rudhrig’s son Guy is to command.”

  “Good choice,” Bisso said.

  “Sergeant, I agree that Guy is as suitable as anyone, but these are Chelm troops!”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Bisso said.

  There was a tiny twist of a smile on the sergeant’s lips. So how much does he know? Rick wondered. Warner knows it all, but Bisso was never in on the full story of Tylara and her child assassins. He has to have guessed some of it. And I don’t dare ask.

  “How did you leave this?” Rick asked Tylara, and she frowned.

  “It was a direct order from the Wanax,” she said. “I did not think it wise to defy him, so I said nothing and came to you.”

  “You know better than that,” Rick said. He thought of the phrase about rape and inevitability, then caught himself before he could say it. Tylara had been raped, and worse, by Sarakos, and while she might agree with the vulgar phrase— “You taught me better.”

  “So we submit? And thus I am to be gracious?” she demanded.

  “Do we have a choice?” Rick asked.

  “Yes,” Tylara said. She looked to Warner and Bisso. “Do you not agree? You are all the counsel we have. Advise us.”

  “I ain’t no officer, Ma’am,” Bisso protested, shaking his head. “Skipper, tell me who to shoot, and I’ll get the job done, but don’t ask me!”

  “It won’t come to shooting,” Larry Warner said. “Lady Tylara’s right about that. If you refuse this request, the Wanax will find a reason to withdraw it. The problem won’t come today, it’ll be the long-term relations with the Wanax you’ll have to worry about. Chelm, you’re okay there, that’s damn near self-sufficient and you’ve got enough to defend it. But I can tell you this, an open break with Ganton would sure cause problems for the University.”

  Tylara put her hand to her mouth as if in surprise. It was a gesture Rick had never seen her use before, but it reminded him of someone. Gwen Tremaine sometimes did that. Thinking about the University could naturally lead to thoughts about Rector Gwen Tremaine, but why imitate her? Now what was Tylara up to? Or maybe her subconscious was sending a signal?

  “I had not thought of that,” Tylara said. There was no need to talk about the importance of the University. Everyone there was long ago agreed on that. But the University was in a critical location, in the hills where the borders of Drantos, the Roman Empire, and the Tamaerthan clan territories came together. It was nominally in clan commons land, but it would be no great trick for either Rome or Drantos to find precedent for a claim. So long as Rick’s alliance of Rome, Tamaerthan, and Drantos held, that had been the right place, but now—

  “What about the clans?” Rick said. “What does an open break with Ganton do to Tamaerthan?”

  “No great harm, I think,” Tylara said. “The clans have never had lasting alliance with Drantos. The new plows are bringing in greater harvests, and this when the growing seasons will be longer due to the Demon. Independence from Drantos lowers trade but it is no great hardship so long as there is peace with Rome. My Lord Husband, my father tells me some of the Drantos lords have been boasting of past conquests within our borders. Lord Warner, you were present, I believe.”

  “Yes, My Lady,” Larry Warner said. “It was mostly just talk. By nobody important.”

  “But the Wanax allowed it,” Tylara said. “He did not forbid it.”

  “No, Ma’am, he didn’t,” Warner said. “He let them babble on.”

  “Including a boast that Drantos once ruled the Garioch as well as the lowlands?”

  “Yes,” Warner said. “And that’s one thing that’s got me worried about the University.”

  “Christ on a crutch,” Rick said.

  “Do not blaspheme. And Ganton is married to the Roman heiress,” Tylara said. “Drantos alone is no great threat, but the clans have ever had one fear, that Rome and Drantos would unite against them. Now—”

  “All the more reason not to cause an open break, I’d say,” Rick said. “Right now Ganton needs us, and it’s not going to make him need us less to let him borrow our light cavalry troops.”

  Bisso nodded.

  “Time’s on our side, Skipper. And we’re running low on ammo; if we have to fight I’d sure rather do it after the next supply shipment from Earth. So would the troops.”

  Rick nodded.

  “Tylara, you wanted advice, I think you just got it. We do what it takes to avoid an open break with Ganton.”

  It was her turn to nod.

  “I will ride back and be gracious,” she said. “And endure the smiles and winks.” She mounted, waved, and rode off, a dozen household troops falling in behind her. She didn’t need the protection here, but a great countess required an escort, even in camp.

  “So what happens when the king asks for us?” Sergeant Bisso said. He gestured to indicate the Earth mercenaries taking their ease next to their packed-up gear and weapons. “He will, you know, and pretty soon, too. He’s going to need his star weapon troops if he expects to get anywhere invading the north.”

  Rick nodded.

  “I know. But not yet, not until we run Ailas off.”

  “Maybe,” Warner said. “And maybe he’s just working up his nerve. He’s still a little scared of you.”

  “Of Tylara, more like,” Rick said. “So what other problems have we got?”

  “What don’t we have?” Warner said as he looked through his notebook. “Let’s see. We assumed Sergeant Clavell was with the Nikeis forces when they
arrived. Turns out he’s not.”

  Rick frowned.

  “Where the hell is Clavell, then? And what about Private Harrison? Didn’t we send him with Clavell?”

  Sergeant Clavell and Private Harrison had been sent as ambassadors to Nikeis as part of a “medicine show” routine to spread the word about hygiene and sanitation. When reports came back about crop yields on the island, Rick had them arrange for shipments of seagull guano to the University.

  “Yes, Sir. We did. This whole battle was thrown together in confusion, particularly after your wife was captured. I wouldn’t be surprised if Clavell and Harrison are still back in Nikeis. I don't know if there was time for troops to come from the island. It’s been a while since we heard from them, though. I’ll look into it, but I suspect the halberdier regiment was from their colony on the coast, Terra Firma.”

  “Please do,” Rick replied. “We can’t afford to lose track of our people.”

  “It gets weirder. The Nikeisian infantry marched off in a huff, something about unequal division of the spoils. Rudhrig claimed they didn’t do enough fighting to warrant a full share per man, and the last I saw their captain was shaking the dust off his feet in the general direction of Ganton. After he did it, all his troops did too.”

  Rick frowned.

  “Does that have the Biblical meaning in Nikeis?”

  “The Nikeisians are Christians,” Warner said. “Claim they always have been. From what I can see they’re pretty straightforward Roman Catholic. No pope, of course.”

  “So we can guess where they got that ritual,” Rick said. “But despite the new Unification religion, there aren’t many Bibles in Drantos.”

  “Yeah, and they’re all in Latin,” Warner said.

  Rick didn’t ask how Warner knew that. Back in Africa the troops had called Larry Warner “Professor” and that stuck well enough that he was now Provost of the University when he wasn’t called into active duty. It would be like Warner to know.

  “So Ganton won’t know they’ve just cursed him?”

  “Not sure they have,” Warner said. “But it looks like that’s what they meant. They sure went away mad.”