Errant

by Armas, Florian

  There is a battle up ahead. Metallic clangs, human shouts and horses neighing in fear, and not just a few. Still in Orban’s land, I instinctively thought; the place was near the border between the S’Arads and S’Severins. I pushed Zor faster, leaving the road for the forest, and stopped at its edge, close to the battlefield. A meadow lay in front of me, and a tall ridge bordered it some eighty paces away. Twelve riders were fighting six men on foot, pinned with their back against the ridge. Good for defense, hard to escape… Five riders and three foot soldiers were already dead in the grass. S’Arads, I recognized the riders’ colors. The footmen were Mountain Men, or Mounts as they were commonly known, settlers in the high mountains north-west of S’Arad’s land, a region that no Seigneur was able to subdue. Very tough those Mounts, I found myself thinking.

  One of the Mounts on my right stumbled and involuntarily moved farther away from his group. A large man even for their standards – the Mounts were the largest people I ever saw, both in height and frame. He was wounded; a diagonal cut pierced his leather armor, from his left shoulder to his abdomen. Living in hostile places, the Mounts were too poor to afford ring-mail, and they were peaceful people. Two S’Arads followed him closely. Tired or weakened by the wound, he parried one sword at the last possible moment, but left his other side uncovered. My arrow struck the S’Arad’s rider, just before his sword descended on the Mount’s head. With a last effort, the Mount pierced the other rider, then fell on the ground, tired and breathing heavily, his eyes fixed on me, trying to understand. I gestured to him to keep his mouth shut.

  There is an inherent advantage when you are behind fighting soldiers: they have eyes just for the enemy in front of them. Three more S’Arads fell to my arrows until my attack was discovered, and they were now just seven against five Mounts. One rider suddenly turned his horse and charged me. I did the same. In front of me was Orban’s Spatar, the commander of his army.

  “You!” he recognized me from an accidental encounter when I was with Cantemir. We just crossed paths for a few moments and a salute, yet he was able to remember, and that erased whatever chance he still had to stay alive. “Traitor!” Filled with hate, he attacked me, but hate is never a good advisor in a battle. His sidekick was strong, aimed to topple me from my horse, but it went too high, and instead of countering it, I dodged, leaning aside on my horse. Caught in its inertia, his blade passed alongside me, and his body twisted, opening an ample space for my sword. It pierced his neck a moment later, and there was now even more high blood between Orban and me. The Mounts did their jobs too, and the last rider tried to run. I stopped him with a sword stroke from behind.

  All the surviving Mounts were wounded, but only one seriously; the one that I had saved first. “Take all the horses you can capture,” I said, to the four of them that could still move easily – one of them had a cut on his thigh. Mounts were hardy people, not easily subdued by wounds. “The Spatar’s horse and gear are mine. That one,” I pointed, as they seemed not aware who the Spatar was. “And that mare,” I pointed again, thinking that she would be a good match for Zor. There were no horses of his quality in the former Frankis Kingdom and I was thinking to maintain the race. “Now, let me see you,” I spoke to the one with the cut on his chest. He nodded, and I removed his leather armor and shirt to expose his wound. “It could be worse,” I encouraged him. “But I have to stitch it.”

  “What means that?” he asked, confused by my words.

  “You will see,” I said, taking out my Assassin’s healing kit, and picking up a piece of wood from the ground. Assassins are not only fighters, they are healers too, the best I knew. “Grip this between your teeth,” I gave him the wood.

  “What for?”

  “It will hurt,” I gestured with my curved needle showing what I was trying to do, then I washed my hands and the needle in alcohol. I never understood why I had to do that, but Tudor told me the wounds would heal better. It was normal to wash your hands, dirt would affect the wound, but why with alcohol?

  “Go on. I don’t need that,” he bragged, and suffered in silence until I finished the four stitches on his chest.

  Having gathered all the horses they could find, the other five Mounts grouped around me just to see what I was doing, and only as I finished did I realize how tense they were; all their hands were on their sword hilts. “He will survive,” I smiled to calm them, and bandaged his chest. “Now take their mail-armor,” I pointed to the dead soldiers.

  “They are too small,” one Mount complained.

  “You can cut the mail coats to enlarge them, and put leather in the open parts. They will still be better than what you have now,” I gestured to their leather armor. I did this for myself too.

  “Do it,” the one with the cut on his chest said curtly, and I realized that he was their leader. “And burry our dead. Thank you,” he addressed me. “Without you, I didn’t have much chance. I am Boldur.”

  “Tudor,” I gave him the name I used outside Severin. “You are good fighters.”

  “You too,” he said thoughtfully, staring at me, and I knew what was in his mind: ‘I was too young’. “Why did you save us?” It seemed that I was wrong about the young thing, or at least partially wrong; he was puzzled by my motives, entering in an unequal fight. Mounts are cautious people, a side effect of the harsh climate in the high mountains, and the many wars that their noble neighbors had started to conquer them.

  Mounts are very good fighters. With proper weapons... “Orban is not my friend,” I said casually, still thinking about their fighting qualities. It took a while until he was fully dressed, and in the meantime the pain silenced him.

  “You killed his Spatar; clearly there is not much love between you,” Boldur stared again at me, and at that moment the other Mounts came back with the mail-armor packed on three horses. The fallen Mounts were already buried in a deep ravine now covered with large boulders. “Time to go,” he said and slowly stood up, a grimace stretching his lips, but no sound leaving his mouth.

  “The road to your home is long,” I said. “You are a tough man, and you will make it, but the wound will not heal properly. You two,” I gestured to him and the one with a wounded thigh. “Come with me. I have a small place not far from here. In one week, you can go back.” It was a risky move, for the first time some would know that Tudor had a house in Severin, but helping them could cement useful bonds.

  For some unknown reason, he was tempted, but ready to refuse – I saw it in his eyes.

  “He is right, Boldur,” another Mount spoke. “We move faster now, and riding, you will be back in time.” The Mount put some emphasis on time, and I had no idea what he was talking about, but it was a useful spur.

  Boldur scratched his head for a while, still undecided, then he nodded.

  Chapter 16 - Jara

  The merchant was both nervous and hoping for a good reward. It must be something important. He was a small fish in Severin’s Merchants Guild, which was anyway smaller than all the others around us. Except Mehadia… Mohor’s lands were rather isolated, surrounded by small mountains, a rugged territory with limited agricultural value. Relatively easy to defend, it did not offer revenues high enough to attract much attention from more powerful neighbors in normal times. Nothing is normal now... There was, though, an inherent strategical value in being situated between richer areas, easier to invade.

  “I came two days ago from Mehadia,” the merchant finally spoke, with a tremor in his voice. It was his first encounter with a Seigneur. “On the road back we found some bodies. A large force had attacked them. There were many arrows and traces of horses. They were robbed.” A small regret moved through his voice when he mentioned the robbery.

  Not much left for you. I made a sign for him to continue; his story was too long and detailed for my liking.

  “It did not happen long ago, maybe three, four days before we found them, and I recognized Sir Jorn.” He finally said what he had come for.

  My hand clutched the cha
ir under the table, but I was sure that nothing else was visible. I did not even turn my head to see Mohor’s or father’s reactions.

  “When did you find them?” Mohor asked, in a voice that was apparently calm.

  “Seven days ago.” The merchant was no longer nervous; he was expecting an angrier reaction from us. Now he was calculating that his reward would be smaller than his expectations.

  “Thank you for your information,” Mohor gave him some hope again, and it was interesting to see so many feelings reflected in swift succession on the merchant’s face. “My secretary will take you to the Visterie, to reward your loyalty.” Mohor wrote ten galbeni on a paper and called his secretary. “We might need to talk to you again,” he spoke again to the merchant.

  “Thank you Sir S’Severin,” the merchant answered, visibly pleased. “Lady S’Severin, Sir Cernat,” he added hastily, showing that he knew our names, a sign that he was a merchant after all.

  We spent the afternoon remaking our plans for the embassy meant to leave a day later with the alliance contract between us and the Devans. Time was pressing and security even more. In the end, we found no better solution than asking Codrin to be the Lead Protector. “I hope he will accept,” I sighed.

  “I am counting on you,” Mohor smiled thinly, but I knew that it was false. “I will send a courier after him. It’s still early,” he glanced through the window. “The embassy must leave tomorrow. Everything is prepared, we just need Codrin.” He called his secretary and asked a rider to be ready, then he stared at father, with a frown on his face.

  “You think Codrin may not come,” father guessed his worries, and Mohor nodded awkwardly; he was one reason for ‘may not come’, but there were other walls raised between Codrin and us, by me. “Let me write the message,” father said after a while. “If he doesn’t come in a turn and half, I will go after him.”

  Codrin came, but he was not pleased by our sudden request. What did father write…? “We have some bad news,” I said after he was seated, trying to calm my nerves. “Jorn and all the people from our embassy to Deva were killed.” I stared at Codrin, sure that Mohor and father did the same. There was no visible reaction on his face, just his fingers tapping the table, as if playing music, yet he avoided my eyes. He is upset…

  “From your reactions, this happened before it arrived in Deva, and the alliance contract with the Devans is now in foreign hands,” Codrin spoke thoughtfully, after a while. “Plus the marriage contract, but that…” he shrugged as if to say that losing it would not affect us too much, another one would be sent.

  “Some people were killed,” I pressed him further without really knowing why, but there was something strange in his behavior.

  “Don’t ask me to mourn a murderer and rapist.” His voice was now harsh. “The others,” he shrugged. “People die in fights.”

  “Jorn worked for us,” I snapped, suddenly nervous, not just because of his reaction but because he mentioned what Jorn did to Dana.

  “So did Dana and her father,” Codrin snapped back.

  “Codrin,” Mohor interfered calmly, leaving me enough time to recover. “What was done was done. Jara was upset, and Jorn had to pay for his behavior. I know you found his punishment rather lenient, but this is how our world works.” He glanced at me, just to see if I was able to continue, and I nodded.

  “I apologize,” Codrin said, staring at me, and just in that brief second I recognized the young man who settled in my house, two years ago.

  How fast time passes, I thought. “It may be that I deserved it.” Slowly, I slid my hand over his, resting on the table close to mine. Unconsciously, his thumb glided over my fingers. At the small table, he was on my right, father in front of me, and Mohor on my left – a perfect square. His hand lifted mine briefly then went back down, and I knew that were we alone he would have kissed my hand to make peace. “In all this, the only good news is that we did not lose the alliance contract, it was not sent with them, but we need to have it back, signed by the Devans, in two weeks. Would you help us? We need someone we trust who is able to protect our embassy. Another attack and…” It was a six-day journey to Deva, so it was doable, just very tight. “I know you only came back five days ago, but it should leave tomorrow.”

  He did not answer immediately, probably calculating the days too, or grinding over some negative feelings about us. “Yes,” he said shortly, yet there was a small degree of displeasure in his voice.

  “Would it bother you, if we send the marriage contract, too?” I asked as gently I could.

  From his fingers’ reaction on the table, it was a clear yes, and the delay in his answer revealed that he needed to calm himself and provide a composed answer.

  “Codrin, I thought we had already agreed on this,” father sensed his hesitation too. “Nobody knows now which agreement will succeed in the future,” he made an oblique remark about what Codrin called our agreement about him and Saliné, “but the immediate situation needs dealing with now. Technically, the two contracts agreed with the Devans are not related, but they only work together. We are ready to consider whatever immediate concerns you have right now.”

  “My concerns will be always irrelevant for you, and I am damned if I do it and damned if I don’t. I will accept, just to avoid being your scapegoat,” Codrin said, visibly upset.

  “Thank you, Codrin,” Mohor reacted quickly, making his acceptance a fait accompli. “Cernat told me about your intuition that things would not work well with the Devans, because of foreign interference. Is the embassy attack a proof of that?”

  “You don’t know that,” Codrin answered in haste.

  “Who could have done it?” Mohor asked again.

  “Robbers, Orban’s people, Mehadin’s people… It could be something premeditated or just bad luck,” Codrin shrugged, and there was again something uncomfortable that I was not able to read in his gestures.

  “Why would Mehadin attack an embassy? It’s not a common thing.”

  “Not a common thing?” Codrin asked, glancing in surprise at Mohor, who remained silent. It was a rare slip of the tongue from him – we had twice attacked Orban’s embassies. “In the improbable case that Mehadin has knowledge of your possible alliance with Devan, he may feel threatened, but he is not an independent player.” Codrin chose not to embarrass Mohor further.

  “Mehadin is not an independent player,” Mohor repeated thoughtfully, and I suddenly understood what Codrin meant: Mehadin’s attack on our embassy could not happen without Orban’s approval; or even worse, Orban was behind the attack. “I heard that you have two Mounts as guests in your house,” Mohor moved to another thing that was worrying us, when I would have liked to continue with the hidden links between Orban and the Mehadins.

  “It’s my house,” Codrin tried curtly to end the discussion.

  “I never doubted that.” Mohor was slightly ironic. “They were wounded.”

  “Codrin,” I interjected, sensing that their irritation was ready to move into another quarrel. “There is no fault in helping wounded people, but we are living in hard times, and it’s normal to ask what happened. We are the Seigneurs of this land.”

  “I saved them from Orban’s soldiers,” Codrin finally answered, looking away, to let me know he did not appreciate my interference. “In S’Arad’s land,” he added.

  “The horse you gave me came from this fight,” father said uncertainly, trying to find if a S’Arad man of power was killed there – the horse was of prime quality.

  “Yes,” Codrin again answered curtly.

  “Who was the owner?” father insisted, gently.

  Codrin glanced at us in irritation, mostly at Mohor, and I saw his hand tapping on the table again to calm him. “Orban’s Spatar,” he said, visibly annoyed. “I would appreciate if this information stays here,” he gestured to us just to enhance his words, and I stared at Mohor, to make him understand that Codrin needed an assurance from him, not from me.

  “Well,” Mohor said, both
admiringly and worried. “That is news. Don’t worry, it will remain among us, as requested. Time to convene the council to see how to proceed with the embassy,” he stopped any other discussion about Orban’s Spatar’s death; there were indeed too many political implications to deal with it right now.

  Our council had only one more member: Aron. In the past Senal would have been there too; but after his death, the new Secretary lacked the stature to be a member, and I was in fact leading the Secretariat. Mohor lacked resources for our great game, an issue that I raised often, but we were generally able to cope with it. Codrin saw our weakness too. Just that his evaluation was related to military aspects that he revealed to father. Codrin would be a good choice to help me in the Secretariat. He would be even better with the army, but... I ‘just’ need to persuade him and Mohor. Who will be the hardest to convince?

  “Could we continue as we are now?” Codrin asked, knowing who was missing. “We might finish faster.”

  “Well, we do have a council, and the next decision requires our Spatar,” Mohor overrode him, and sent for Aron.

  “What is your plan?” I asked Codrin, after we informed Aron that Codrin would be the Lead Protector of our embassy.

  “We need to send a strong embassy. Fifteen, twenty people. The treaty is too important to be lost,” Aron interjected, before Codrin could answer.

  “Yes, Aron, you are right, the treaty is very important. Codrin?” I asked again, trying to silence Big Mouth.