Siege of Tarr-Hostigos

by John F. Carr

  “An excellent choice, Your Majesty. It will also prove our mettle to Great King Demistophon in case he has any ideas of annexing Phaxos, Thaphigos and Argros, while we are fighting the Usurper’s army next spring.” This was exactly what Phidestros would have done in Demistophon’s boots: annex the three Princedoms while the Army of Harphax was in Hos-Hostigos and then station enough troops there that Lysandros would have to live with it--or face another major war. With Phaxos held by a Hostigi puppet Prince and supported by Kalvan’s troops, Prince Soligon of Argros sympathetic to the League of Dralm and Thaphigos still reeling from civil war, the entire corner of Hos-Harphax was ripe for the picking.

  Lysandros shook his head with a pained expression. Then in a low voice, as if talking to himself, he said, “I fear you are right. This is why I cannot lead my own Army against Kalvan. The greatest campaign of my life and a jumped up mercenary captain will be fighting my war ...”

  Phidestros quietly left the chamber, with the Styphon’s House parchment cradled in his arms. He started mentally sorting through the Royal Army, deciding which units would remain billeted at Tarr-Harphax and which ones would be going into the field.

  The Princedom of Thaphigos had been leaderless for so long, until Prince Eltar had been invested, he was certain the Princedom’s defenses were in shambles. However, Phidestros would have to talk to Grand-Captain Kyblannos who, in his never-ending store of tales, boasted of having been in every tinpot army in Hos-Harphax. If Kyblannos didn’t have an answer on the tip of his tongue, he’d know which soldiers to ask.

  THREE

  The moment word reached the Princedom of Eubros that Duke Mnestros had stepped foot on Hos-Agrys soil, outriders were dispatched from Eubros Town to all corners of Hos-Agrys as well as to the border princedoms of Hos-Harphax and Hos-Zygros. The emissaries were sent to call a special session of the Council of Dralm at Tarr-Eubros. News of the battles in the Trygath and beyond were sketchy and rumors had flooded the Northern Kingdoms for the past six moons. Some said that Great King Kalvan had suffered terrible losses at the hands of the Sastragathi barbarians, while other claimed Kalvan had made battle and defeated the Order of the Zarthani Knights and was, even now, besieging the Order’s great fortress, Tarr-Ceros.

  Mnestros had been told of the Council meeting, but the Duke had not been prepared to speak with the Council before he could shake the dust off his cloak and change his boots. Mnestros took a small cask of Ermut’s brandy from his saddle bag, slung his presentation rifle--a parting gift from Great King Kalvan himself--from his shoulder by a leather strap and walked through the outer courtyard, past the inner courtyard and into the keep portal.

  Inside the keep, Mnestros was immediately ushered into the Great Hall where the assembled princes and noblemen were seated around the great table awaiting his arrival. Every seat at the table was taken, some by noblemen Mnestros had never seen before. Knowing how to stage a dramatic entrance, Mnestros--probably the youngest man in the room--strode into the Great Hall and swept off his high-combed burgonet helmet, handing it to a man servant, and held up his rifle. Everyone rose to greet him and pat his back as he made his way to the head of the table where his father, Prince Thykarses, sat.

  The old Prince roared, “It’s good to see you again, son. I will apologize for not giving you time to sweep the dust off of your breeches and soak your weary bones, but our friends here demand your presence. As a good host, I could not deny them.”

  Mnestros knew his father would have preferred a briefing in private, impossible under the circumstances, and was trying to put on a good face. The Prince even offered him his seat at the table, but, after four hundred marches of bad road, he chose to stand instead. Mnestros opened with his arrival at Hos-Hostigos, the Great King’s Highway--a true marvel, Great King Kalvan’s hospitality and his lovely wife, Queen Rylla--the Warrior Queen. “Great King Kalvan holds a grand table and commands some of the best comrades a good fighting man would ever want to guard his back.”

  There were many nods around the table at these words.

  “What is this ‘musket’ you brought with you that hangs from a strap?” Prince Tryomanes of Thebra asked. Several other lords nodded in encouragement.

  “This is one of Great King Kalvan’s rifles”

  There was a sudden silence broken only when one of the dogs outside began to howl.

  “Let me see that?” a powerful baron asked. Suddenly everyone was talking at once.

  Prince Thykarses silenced them with a bellow. Mnestros then gave an explanation of how the rifle worked. He finished with, “Kalvan has some of his riflemen ride horses to battle.”

  One of the younger lords asked, “Does he use these riflemen as skirmishers?”

  “Sometimes. Other times he places them in the van to fight with the regulars. At the Battle of Spirit Grove they laid waste to the nomad horse-archers.”

  There were ahs of appreciation and a score of questions from the more military minded.

  After he promised everyone interested, which included all in the Great Council Hall except the serving wenches, a demonstration after the Council meeting, Mnestros was allowed to continue.

  He told them about Kalvan’s Council of War and how all his commanders had a chance to speak their word. Then he regaled his audience with the story of the march of the Royal Army through Hos-Hostigos and into the Trygath, a place only a few border princes among those present had ever visited. His audience was spellbound as he described the walls of Rathon City and Nestros’ great palace. Next was the tale of the Battle of Spirit Grove and how Kalvan had defeated the Sastragathi Warlord and then, by his kindness, won him over as an ally.

  The Prince of Glarth cried, “Why is the League cooling its heels here when Kalvan offers us all the glory and fighting any prince can ask for?”

  There were shouts and nods of agreement.

  Mnestros used this pause to drink another tankard of mead. He finished his tale with the flight of the Zarthani Knights, the small mountains of discarded armor and the Burning of the Drynos Mines. “Since Kalvan was honor-bound to vanquish the Knights at Drynos, he posted his ablest commander to chase and harass Soton’s retreating forces. While the Zarthani Knights arrived at Tarr-Ceros before the main body of Har-makros’ army, the Captain-General’s Mounted Rifles acted as skirmishers and inflicted many casualties among the retreating Order horse. Grand Master Soton will not soon forget that trail of blood!”

  Many in the chamber applauded and laughed with delight.

  “It’s Styphon’s Own Luck that Kalvan did not reach Tarr-Ceros before the Knights,” the Prince of Orchon cried. “Thanks to those bumbling white-beards at the High Temple of Dralm, I missed a chance to fight alongside a real Great King. Were only Great King Demistophon half the solder Kalvan is--be he man or Daemon!”

  “Aye, aye,” a dozen other throats echoed.

  Mnestros told the Council how Kalvan and the nomads savaged the land for a hundred marches in every direction around Tarr-Ceros, and taunted the Knights who refused to leave the walls and meet them in honorable battle.

  “Those Styphon lovers don’t know the meaning of honor,” the Prince of Argros shouted. “They have our Great King Lysandros under their spell, or he would make peace with Kalvan. True, Kaiphranos the Timid lost half of Hos-Harphax to Great King Kalvan, yet it was fairly won and Kaiphranos held suzerainty over it in name only. Lysandros is so besotted with Styphon’s archpriests I’m surprised he does not dress in a yellow robe!”

  The few Harphaxi Princes who dared to attend the Council nodded their agreement or studied their wine goblets.

  Mnestros hoped for the Prince of Argros’ sake that there were no intelligencers in the room, or the Prince would not keep his Princedom--or head, for that matter--once he returned to Hos-Harphax.

  Prince Kyphanes of Meligos held up his slender hands. He was a tall man, stooped with care and age. “We cannot commit our forces to Kalvan without the Blessing of the Temple of Dralm.”The majority of head
s at the Table nodded their agreement. “There is no doubt, nor has there been, of Kalvan’s martial skill and prowess at war. Surely Duke Mnestros’ words have proved that beyond dispute. However, if we go without the Temple’s blessing, we will be no better than the Styphoni dogs who live godless lives worshiping a fraud and hoax!”

  As Speaker of the Council, Kyphanes’ words carried much more weight than those of a mere Duke, so Mnestros bit his tongue, cursing under his breath all the while.

  “You wouldn’t be so hesitant, Speaker, if the nomads had come within a hundred marches of Meligos,” Prince Clytoss said. “King Kalvan did the people of Glarth a great favor when he conquered the nomad horde. My people regard him as a hero. I will tell you this, in all truth, Great King Democriphon would not have sent a single soldier to guard my lands, even though I am sworn to him and he to me!”

  “By Dralm, those words ring of truth!”

  “Your words border upon treason,” Prince Kyphanes shouted. “I will hear no more of such talk at the Council Table as long as I am Speaker!”

  Many at the Table looked down at the fine embroidered tablecloth in disgust. Others nodded their heads in agreement. The arguments went back and forth, with Mnestros occasionally bearing witness to Kalvan’s character--all were impressed by the Charge of the Two Kings to meet the nomad Warlord--and other questions about Hos-Hostigos. The meeting continued for more candles than it was worth, at least in Mnestros’ opinion.

  Afterwards in private over a goblet of Ermut’s brandy, his father said, “I am pleased that you were able to partake of great deeds, rather than jaw about them in endless debate.”

  Mnestros nodded his agreement. “It was your idea that someone should meet Kalvan. Kalvan is a good man and a great captain-general. I would follow him to Hadron’s Gates! You would too, Father, had you met him.”

  “Ahhh. To be young again. To many of these princes the Fireseed War is far away and most would not be comfortable in the saddle for more than two days on a moose hunt! Unless the whitebeards of Dralm give their blessing to Kalvan and his crusade against Styphon’s House, the League of Dralm will limit its wars to those of words. Maybe some of those of us who are not so afraid of offending the Temple of Dralm will act upon their own, although carefully since it would be no surprise to find at least one man here today with his hand deep into Styphon’s purse.”

  Mnestros wondered if his father was speaking of the Speaker, who seemed determined to block every course of action that would aid Kalvan. In his favor, it was also true that one of Kyphanes’ sons was a highpriest of Dralm. Furthermore, the Prince was no more a hindrance than the Temple of Dralm itself, which was led by the former Highpriest of Hostigos! Meanwhile, his replacement, Highpriest Mytron, was one of Kalvan’s greatest supporters. Political loyalties were divided throughout the Great Kingdoms; it was doubtful--though not impossible--that the Temple of Dralm itself was harboring more than one or two of Styphon’s intelligencers.

  In such times it was no wonder his father was wary of his allies. Mnestros hoped that whatever plan was brewing in his father’s mind had a prominent place for him. One way or another, he was going to return to Hos-Hostigos for the war against Hos-Harphax.

  II

  King Kalvan sat down on the Fireseed Throne, the name given to the magnificent walnut throne with two silver armrests in the shape of musketoon barrels. On the headboard was a gold and mother-of-pearl inlay depicting his first military success at Tarr-Dombra, a border castle he’d captured shortly after arriving in the Princedom of Hostigos. The Fireseed Throne had been commissioned by Rylla as the official throne of the new Kingdom of Hos-Hostigos and had been two years in the making by the kingdom’s best artificers. Kalvan was waiting in the great audience chamber as Chancellor Chartiphon arranged those supplicants who would be permitted an audience and in what order.

  Last night Kalvan had spent several hours with his daughter and her nursemaid at the Allmother Festival, but Rylla had refused to see him. Kalvan had returned by himself for another lonely evening at the University talking with Master Ermut and Chartiphon. Now that they had glass suitable for vases and other decorative items, Ermut was attempting to devise a way to get the glass to cool in sheets for window panes. The making of sheet glass was a secret held by the Glassmakers Guild of Hos-Agrys, which kept the price of sheet glass as high as that of gold.

  While Kalvan was pleased by Ermut’s success, he missed Rylla most of all; her absence was like that of a missing limb. Nor did he like being kept away from his daughter as she learned her way about the world. Already he’d missed Demia’s first words and halting steps.

  The Royal Bodyguard marched into the Audience Chamber, holding their ceremonial double-headed poleaxes, followed by Aspasthar, the Royal Page, Harmakros’ illegitimate issue. After the Bodyguard had taken their place besides the throne and at the front entrance, Chancellor Chartiphon entered followed by a good-sized crowd, including Rylla’s second cousin, Baron Sthentros, who was strutting at the head of the party. He had never liked Sthentros, an arrogant ne’er-do-well who blamed others for his own incompetence. Kalvan attempted to look regal, while searching the crowd for possible assassins and agents of Styphon’s House.

  Kalvan’s crown was solid gold, a simple circlet with a magnificent ruby of forty or fifty carats, set at the front. Kalvan had designed the crown himself in an attempt to avoid the traditional ornate and heavy crowns worn by Great Kings.

  The Royal Bodyguard stamped their poleaxes twice as the Royal Page announced: “Baron Sthentros, for an audience with Great King Kalvan, overlord of the Princedoms of Hostigos, Sask, Ulthor, Beshta, Kyblos and Sashta and His Royal Majesty of the Great Kingdom of Hos-Hostigos. You may approach the throne.”

  Kalvan had finally grown accustomed to the pomp and circumstance that accompanied the position of Great King, but he disliked watching supplicants bowing and scraping as they approached the throne. Still, it was part of the Great King job description and he was stuck with it. However, Baron Sthentros managed to put outrage and injustice into every bow and scrape. Old Chartiphon couldn’t keep his hand away from his sword hilt, and the look in his eyes was positively murderous. Kalvan would have to be careful not to show any of the displeasure he felt at dealing with Rylla’s slimy second cousin; otherwise, the Baron might ‘accidentally’ trip and fall down a castle stairway some dark night.

  It would have been easy for him to believe that Sthentros was someone’s bastard and not related to Ptosphes’ deceased wife except for the fact that his daughter was almost the spitting image of Rylla, only with flaming red hair and her father’s arrogance. Sthentros, who wore a mink-lined dark-red bathrobe, looked nothing like Rylla--Dralm be praised. He was tall and thin, with a red goatee and long narrow face, his mouth set in a permanent sneer. Kalvan hadn’t liked him the first time they’d met at Tarr-Hostigos, when he had to be ordered by Ptosphes to bring his levy to the Battle of Fyk. Admittedly he’d fought well at Fyk, although with little enthusiasm.

  Sthentros hadn’t served in the army since Fyk. His oldest son had led the family retainers. Then he remembered that the youngest son, his father’s favorite, had died at Tenabra, and Sthentros had blamed Rylla’s father. He wondered if this was another attempt to pry guilt money out of the Hostigi moneybox. Kalvan would publicly push Sthentros down the stairs from the highest tower in Tarr-Hostigos if he attempted to play on Ptosphes’ guilt again!

  It was well known that Sthentros was a spendthrift--his summer palace was more ornate than the Prince’s--and it was also known that he’d only supported the war against Styphon’s House because he owed the Sask regional branch of Styphon’s Great Bank something on the order of twenty thousand ounces of gold. Not that he was the only one in Hostigos--or the Seven Kingdoms for that matter!--who was a debtor to Styphon’s House. At least, it was a guarantee of his loyalty. Styphon’s House was far less forgiving of debtors than non-believers!

  Chancellor Chartiphon, looking regal in his own blue velvet ro
be, stared the Baron right in the eye and intoned, in a reasonable voice that little matched the sparks in his eyes, “You may present your petition to His Majesty, Great King Kalvan.”

  Sthentros gave a pained little bow to Chartiphon before clearing his throat. “Your Majesty, I have a complaint to file about my new neighbor, the Baron Hestophes.”

  Sthentros managed to spit out Hestophes’ name in a manner that made it sound as if it were a term used to describe something found in an outhouse; little matter that Captain-General Hestophes was the Hero of Narza Gap and one of Kalvan’s most valued lieutenants. Hestophes’ first offense was his common origins; his father owned a public tavern. The second, and probably more important, was that he was now the Baron of Eython, a neighboring domain--just outside Boalsburg, or Hyllos Town-- and a barony that Sthentros had long coveted.

  When the last scion of the family had died without heirs during the Year of the Locust, Kalvan had presented the Barony of Eython to Hestophes, who had long suffered from an inferiority complex over his humble origins. That the title had given one of his best generals happiness had enabled Kalvan to enjoy one of the perks of his own position. He was not about to let this pipsqueak turn that pleasure to ashes.

  “And what is your complaint, Baron?”

  “This Hestophes has been trying to make suit with my daughter Lavena--despite my objections. I have told him repeatedly that she will never be betrothed to a former commoner. He has refused to heed my words and has accosted her in the streets of Hyllos Town. I want an end to his harassment!”

  Kalvan found it hard to imagine General Hestophes acting in a manner that would offend any reasonable person, not that anyone who knew Sthentros would ever accuse him of reasonable behavior. In the Zarthani lands nobles, for property or dynastic reasons, arranged their children’s marriages. This prohibited him from reading Sthentros the riot act as he wanted to do; instead he swallowed his bile and said, “Baron, Captain-General Hestophes is about to be re-assigned to an important post on the Beshtan border so I doubt he will be in a position to continue his suit--if in fact, there is such a suit.”