“I expect, despite the royal betrothal, the eunuch still sought to play we captains against each other. So I’m pleased that you two are decent folk,” said Gathelaus.
“Seems funny for a Sho-Tan chieftain to call us decent folk. I wouldn’t have thought that a consideration for you,” said Proscopius.
Maximinus rolled his eyes at Proscopius.
Gathelaus continued, taking the bottle back from Maximinus. “I can get along under orders and to see to my Chieftains marriage to Marcelanius’s daughter,” he said, gesturing back to the ornate carriage containing the betrothed princess and her ladies in waiting.
“We can all be decent folk in the right circumstances.”
“If you say so.”
“Forgive my surprise master Gathelaus, but you have a hard and bloody reputation.”
“I’m a nail.” Seeing their puzzled looks, he continued, “I’m a soldier.”
They shrugged.
“Nails aren’t made from good iron, nor soldiers from kind men.”
“Nonetheless you are the most decent Sho-Tan I have had the pleasure of meeting.”
“You’ve hardly met any,” said Gathelaus, walking away in the darkness.
“Why wouldn’t he drink with Octar if they’re both Sho-Tan?” asked Proscopius.
“They are both Sho-Tan but they hate each other as members of rival clans. Part of Etzel’s cunning is how he uses people, by pairing those two, he keeps his fingers in all possibilities.”
Proscopius shook his head.
Maximinus said, “You must keep an open eye. We are in the midst of some terrible double-dealing that neither party is keeping us appraised of. For your own good, I’ll enlighten you. Officially we are escorting the Princess Honoria to be wed to Etzel and thusly keep the peace between two powers that are fundamentally unable to coexist. But someone doesn’t want that to happen.”
“Who?”
“Does it matter? The wheels are in motion.”
“But how do you know?”
“Octar was given preferential treatment over Gathelaus though both are Etzel’s captains.”
“It doesn’t matter,” broke in Bigalus returning to the firelight. “They are both captains but if you knew the Sho-Tan way they are not of equal rank. Gathelaus is just being petty. Don’t concern yourself with their squabbling, just be sure you greet Etzel properly and give him what he wants for the sake of the peace.”
“Is that what you want?” asked Proscopius.
“Don’t get mouthy with me boy. This mission needs to succeed for the good of the empire.”
Proscopius and Maximinus nodded though neither believed Bigalus gave the full truth of the matter.
***
The next day as the caravan rolled through thick woods a pair of Sho-Tan horsemen barred the way asking Maximinus, “Are you a bearded woman to wear that dress? Who is your father?” They mocked his long robe. The Sho-Tan only wore pants made from the skin of their dead horses. It seemed to Proscopius that everything they had was from their horses.
Gathelaus rode forward answering, “You know damn well. Etzel is the All-Father. And they are his guests.”
“We were not expecting you chieftain. The cart driver confused us.”
Gathelaus said to Maximinus, “Only women drive carts within the Sho-Tan.” To the horsemen he said, “Proclaim to the All-Father that his bride is coming.” He signaled back at the fine carriage carrying the bride and her ladies in waiting.
The horsemen whooped in glee and rode away at full gallop.
“We shall wait until he calls us forward,” said Gathelaus.
“How long might that be?” asked Proscopius.
“It may be days. The signs must be read by his soothsayers and they must be positive.”
Before the diplomats could ask anything more, Octar rode forward saying, “Gathelaus, you will stay with the Dyzantine’s. I ride forward to speak to Etzel on important matters.”
Gathelaus frowned at that as Octar rode away but nodded. “Seems we will share a fire at least one more night,” he said to Maximinus and Proscopius.
Late about the dying fire after the laughter of the guardsmen and the giggling of the ladies in waiting had died down, the men sat and discussed the world. Maximinus and Proscopius were anxious to learn all they could from a man who had been born outside the world of the Horde.
“Surely you can help us understand the dichotomy of life upon the steppe,” said Maximinus.
Gathelaus grinned. “Perhaps I was a civilized boy once, but that was beat out of me long ago by circumstance.”
“I understand, the cruelty of ransom, but when you were accepted or even when you rode to Dyzantium, you could have left the Sho-Tan and returned to your people. Why stay with them?”
Gathelaus answered, “Every man needs a purpose and I found a purpose with them. I feel as if I have few talents in this life and what I have is magnified with the Horde.”
Proscopius asked, “The Sho-Tan build no cities, they harbor no great ideas or art, what do they do that entices you, who were once a civilized man?”
“They move and with them so moves the world. When they swept in from the east, they displaced or absorbed the Karnians, Jutes, and Muleks. They eradicated the Shule and cannibalistic Mouge. Only Dyzantium with Azschland troops has stood up to them thus far, but the old Empire is weak. When Dyzantium falls, the city states of the Gallinese peninsula will as well. Only the sea itself can save the Sen-Toku, Vjorn and Khathul for now. Eventually the whole of the world will be ruled by the All-Father.”
“Forgive my lack of enthusiasm, but what about this blessed union we are to witness and report on? The marriage between the Princess Honoria and Etzel? Surely it will change things. Perhaps bring some appreciation of civilization to the Sho-Tan.”
Gathelaus gave a lop-sided grin, “There are forces on both sides that oppose it.”
“I suspect much the same. But you?”
“It will not change the Sho-Tan goal.”
“What side are you on?”
His grin vanished. “I serve my friend the king. If he wishes to wed a pampered wisp of a girl and have her attempt to bear him Sho-Tan sons so be it.”
Proscopius wondered and finally asked, “This is the greatest the Sho-Tan horde have ever been, is that not true, they have expanded beyond all previous incursions, why?”
“Because of Etzel, of course. Only he could unite the tribes beneath one banner.”
Maximinus said, “I know this one. I heard it was because he found a magic sword. True?”
Gathelaus laughed. “That is the story. But there are two swords and he didn’t find one of them, a herdsman did. The herdsman was a cripple within Etzel’s clan who was allowed to stay behind with the women and care for the cattle and horses. One day he finds a calf bleeding from the ribs, he goes to the fields and finds a sword blade sticking out of the ground.”
“The hills were ancient then,” said Proscopius.
“Aye, they were,” agreed Gathelaus. “He hurried back to the war camp and tells Etzel this. Always looking for a good sign, Etzel rides out, draws the sword from the earth and declares it to be a magic blade granting him supreme power over the clans.”
“And they just accepted that?”
Gathelaus took a deep draught of the wine and laughed until he coughed. Finally, he said, “Of course not. Etzel slew his brother, cousin and rival chieftain Niall before he even took full control of his own clan, let alone the dozen others that comprise the whole of the Sho-Tan horde, but you’ve gotta start somewhere.”
“But the sword, is it magical?”
Shaking his head, Gathelaus said, “Sometimes a sword is just a sword.”
“But the legends?”
Gathelaus stood and swung his hands about as if he wielded a sword. “They say he drew the sword from the earth. Usually the tales say men drew a sword from a stone do they not?”
“Yes,” said Maximinus. “All the old tales say magic swords were drawn from
stones.”
“And how do they do that?” asked Gathelaus. He was getting tipsy with wine. “Stones of metal fall from the sky, they are dropped by the cosmic serpent of stars from far above, then when we find them, we heat and forge swords of renown. The sword is drawn from stone by crafting it, that is the great secret, all the best swords are made from fallen stars.”
“And was that sword?” asked Proscopius.
Gathelaus sat and finished the wine, wiped his mouth with his sleeve and said, “No. It was a rusted piece of junk. But what it symbolized was important. Etzel used it to solidify his place with the clan. I think he threw it in a river after that as a gift returned to the gods.”
Maximinus observed, “This Etzel is crafty and for a barbarian, he certainly knows how to play people.”
“If not for him they would feud and fight and any danger to the empire would wither away,” said Gathelaus. “Do you have another skin?”
Maximinus smiled saying, “You gave honest advice. I wonder if there aren’t forces on both sides praying for that very end.” He handed a second wineskin to Gathelaus.
“Likely as not,” answered Gathelaus. “Many among the clan chieftains’ envy Etzel’s strength but none of them could command the same favor as he. He has no equal in strategy or swordsmanship. The Sho-Tan think him a divine personage and he still claims publicly that it was he who found the other sacred sword of the gods as well. He carries that one now.”
“Tell me about that sword,” asked Proscopius.
“Etzel carries it with him everywhere he goes. A bone woman prophesied that so long as it remains in his hand, or on his person, he cannot be defeated. And he never has yet.”
“Have you fought him?”
Gathelaus nodded. “I have sparred with him and could not overcome him with that blade. I lasted longer than any other man and thus won his respect and place in the clan.”
“What is it about the sword?” asked Proscopius. “Is it magical?” He was carefully jotting down everything Gathelaus said in his journal.
Gathelaus shrugged as he swallowed more wine. “He found it when he crossed the Spine mountains, he believes it was granting him divine intervention from the gods to lead the Sho-Tan to victory over the world.”
“But is it really magical?”
“I have never seen it’s like. Long and dull grey with both sides sharpened so fine they can cut a maiden’s hair without the slightest tug. The hilt is golden but plain with but a few runes across the guard and pommel. I do not know what they say. No one here does.”
“What god was it said to be from?”
Gathelaus rubbed at his jawline trying to remember. “I think it was supposed to be Tangri Khan, but no one knows for sure.”
“What,” asked Proscopius. “There must be more to the story, surely?”
Gathelaus shook his head. “I couldn’t say. Life has a way of never answering all of our questions and sometimes as I said before, a sword is just a sword and sometimes it may be something more.”
“You’re a man of contradictions, Gathelaus,” said Maximinus. “Telling us all of this.”
“The Sho-Tan do not read, and they would never value your words if you spoke of such things to them. They would not believe a non-members words or stories at all. I can speak these hidden truths to you because words will never matter to the Sho-Tan.”
“But what about us coming here as ambassadors?” asked Proscopius.
Gathelaus laughed. “The Dyzantines insisted on sending you for their own ends, as record keepers I suppose. But Etzel and the Horde could not care a whit. The marriage to the princess is all he cares about. Any treaties or promises made depend on her alone. Pray she pleases him on the wedding night.”
“I thank you for your candor,” lamented Maximinus. The wind had gone from his sails.
Gathelaus toasted him and took a deep draught from a second wineskin. That was when they all noticed a shadow in silk watching them. It was one of the bridesmaids. This was the first time they had seen one of them for more than a moment stepping outside of their private wagon.
“Please, don’t tell the royal guards I escaped their watch,” she said.
Gathelaus remained seated beside the fire and wiped the dripping wine from his open mouth. It was open for a reason.
She was veiled but clearly as beautiful as the greatest night of stars. She wore pink pantaloons, made of a sheer gauzy material that revealed the curvature of her legs. Her exposed belly button and neckline were pale and swanlike. A great red jewel hung on a chain beneath her rounded breasts. Bright eyes shone from above her veil and some reddish-brown hair spilled out over her shoulders. She was a vision indeed.
“We will say nothing my lady,” said Maximinus. “Are you one of the brides-to-be ladies in waiting?”
She hesitated in answering and took a step closer to their fire, so that she was on the very border of the firelight but still cloaked in the shadows of the trees.
“Ha!” said Gathelaus. “She is the bride to be, I’ll wager.”
“Please, don’t tell anyone. I only wished to be free of the carriage for a little while and I heard you speaking of my betrothed and I was curious.”
“He is my adopted kinsmen and lord,” said Gathelaus, “But I’ll tell him nothing I do not have too.”
“But you are not Sho-Tan,” she said. “Are other Northmen adopted into the horde?”
“No, just me,” he said, taking another draught of wine.
“My lady,” said Maximinus. “You may join our fire if you wish, after all you will be queen and command many men as you see fit soon enough.”
“Me? Command?”
Proscopius said, “Indeed. The Sho-Tan allow honored women the right to rule many things in their husband’s stead. We have found that Etzel’s dead brothers wife ruled the village we stayed in just a night ago.”
“I did not know,” she said, remaining in the shadows. “I would enjoy learning more from you all, since this shall be my lot in life.”
Gathelaus said, “It might be best if there was no idle word of her leaving the carriage. People might talk.”
“We shall keep your secret good lady,” said Proscopius. “Perhaps shield yourself with this cloak.” He offered her a large grey cloak from his personal trunk. “I would sincerely appreciate hearing some of your own thoughts on this arrangement, you know for the sake of the history books I am writing.”
“Proscopius,” warned Maximinus.
She took the offered cloak and wrapped herself in it until nothing, but her eyes were visible. “There is little I could tell of myself. But you kindly, tell me more of my betrothed and the Sho-Tan,” she said.
“We are not overly familiar with him either, your highness,” said Proscopius.
“I am not married yet,” she said.
“Yes, well, our companion here, Gathelaus, is a personal friend of lord Etzel and could tell you far more than me and my,” he stammered for the right word for Maximinus, “professor.”
Maximinus harrumphed at that. “Just your professor, am I? And I take it you are not just an apprentice then, hmm?”
“Well, I…”
They could hear the woman’s soft laughter beneath the cloak.
More hints of the plot against Etzel, and jealousies revealed. The youngest son is the apple of his father eye with destiny foretold.
The wedding feast and the honeymoon.
Women dance and Assassins strike. The bride is a killer.
Octar’s gamble is foiled but not before Gathelaus, Maximinus and Proscopius are forced to flee for their lives.
Five days earlier…
The Usurper 8. Follow the Phantom Drums
From the heights of the rolling hills they gazed upon the prize city, gleaming like a pale jewel in the late afternoon sun. Fields of tall grass waved in the wind beside them like a billowing storm-tossed sea. It was easy to imagine that rider might vanish and drown in that green sea. Kettle drums sounded the alarm. Men
were mobilizing upon the enemy lines.
“Any demands yet?” asked the Baron, striding up to Gathelaus.
“No,” said Gathelaus, shaking his head. “But there is some delegation putting itself together now. I can see a score of men getting ready to ride out to us. They look too pompous to be mere spies, besides the wizard could see more than any twenty men along the borders.”
“Then who should they be, I wonder?” said the baron.
Gathelaus explained, “Likely as not they may be asking if they can pay us off to leave, once we refuse their initial threats of course.”
“You really think so?”
“Its standard once things have reached this point. It’s all lies of course, but it is the game. They’ll threaten, we resist, they capitulate and promise gold, though of course it takes time to collect it in an attempt to stall for yet more time because it’s about waiting for their coming reinforcements to arrive and they hope greed will make us stupid to catch us in a trap.”
“You’ve done this sort of thing before?”
Gathelaus rubbed at his stubbled jaw. “On behalf of others, yes. I just never had so much riding on it personally.”
Baron Undset agreed. “All of us.”
Niels strode up to where they were watching, “Riders are coming.”
“It won’t be an attack,” said Gathelaus, “But have archers on them regardless.”
Niels saluted and went back to the lines he commanded on the left flank.
They watched a few more minutes as the score of riders in gleaming armor rode their way through the surging green fields.
Baron Undset said, “I trust you understand negotiations with persuasive individuals?”
Gathelaus chuckled. “The power of language has its limits.”
Soon enough the delegation from Forlock arrived. These were not diplomats but looked like experienced warriors all, save one. The sorcerer Tormund Ghast.
“So we meet face to face, eh wizard?” said Gathelaus, standing on a stump.
Tormund Ghast whose head was bald as an eggs though as wrinkled as the cock that sired it, gave a ghastly smile. “You need’nt stand atop a stump to meet me Gathelaus Thorgrimson, you’re tall enough as it is.”
The Usurper Page 20