Janissaries j-1

by Jerry Pournelle

  The visitor was wrapped in woolen clothing so that only his nose and eyes showed. When he took off his scarves-three of them, counting the one wrapped around his face-and the hooded cloak and the thick gloves, Rick saw that he was quite elderly and very thin. His beard and long hair were nearly white, and he had almost no teeth.

  Dentistry, Rick thought. Have to invent that from scratch. Thank God my teeth are in good shape, but that won't last. If! live long enough, I'll lose them all. Dentistry's another benefit of civilization you take for granted until you haven't got it.

  "Were you able to read my master's letter?" the elderly man asked.

  "Yes. What is your message?"

  "Do you object if I sit? My bones are old, and the cold has made them brittle."

  "Please do." Rick indicated a chair near the fireplace. "The matter must be urgent, to bring you here at Winterset."

  Lucius sat heavily and huddled forward for warmth. "It is that. But first-" He reached down to a leather case he carried and took out a thick roll of parchment. He held that near the fire to warm it until it would unroll slightly, then held it out to Rick. "Marselius thought you might prize this," he said.

  Rick took it curiously. The letters were hand-printed in a block form and easily recognized. He read slowly. "Ego Tiberius Claudius Drusus Nero Germanicus-" He broke off, staring. "Is this truly a copy of the great history by the Emperor Claudius?"

  "To the best of my knowledge," Lucius said. "I have no reason to doubt it. You are pleased with the gift, then?"

  "I am indeed," Rick said. He frowned. What was this going to cost? "I am pleased that Marselius remembered my interest."

  "He has written down every word you spoke," Lucius said. "I know, for he dictated them to me."

  "May I see?" Gwen asked.

  Rick was reluctant to let the parchment scroll out of his hands. He knew that was silly. He couldn't read it, and he'd need her help. He gave it to Gwen and watched to see that she didn't damage it, but she held it as tenderly as she might hold a baby.

  "There are other documents," Lucius said. "One seems to be the story of how a group of soldiers came to this world from another."

  "Where are these documents?" Rick demanded. "Prefect Marselius has them," Lucius said. "They, too, could be gifts for you."

  "Your friend is very generous," Rick said.

  "What does he want in exchange?" Gwen asked. Rick frowned at her, but Lucius didn't seem upset. "Your friendship," Lucius said. "And an alliance."

  "Alliance?"

  "Perhaps I should begin with what has happened since you left." Lucius shifted in his chair.

  "Jamiy," Rick shouted. "Tea, please."

  ''Sir."

  "So what has happened?" Rick asked.

  "The legions of the western provinces have proclaimed Marselius as Caesar," Lucius said. "I see this does not surprise you, and indeed it was inevitable if Marselius did not wish to be recalled to Rome and executed. The soldiers you released from captivity had no more pleasant expectation, and Marselius was popular with the other troops as well-and they could see the Demon Star. They have heard the tales. We all have. They believed Marselius when he told them what he had learned from you of the times of trouble to come. Few of the province, citizen or soldier, believe that our present Caesar will know what to do-or indeed care.

  "Naturally, Marselius first sent for his family. His son and grandchildren were on the family estates near Rome. I was tutor to the household, as I have been for thirty years. For the past year, I have been working in the libraries of the friends of Marselius and his son. The letter that ordered young Publius-I call him young Publius, although he is a man older than you, my lord-the letter that ordered young Publius to join his father also instructed me to take many documents including that history by Claudius." Lucius sighed. "I fear we have betrayed many trusts, but Marselius assures me that the parchments will be replaced for all those who survive the coming times."

  Jamiy brought in a pot of tea and three stone cups. As he put the tray down, Rick studied Gwen. She didn't seem overjoyed by the news of the documents. Rick wished he could think of a good reason to have her leave. I could simply order her out, he thought. I don't have to be polite to anyone-well, except Tylara and her father.

  What is she hiding from me? "Jamiy."

  "Sir."

  "Tell Major Mason that our new guests have brought important documents, and that I would like him to see that they are given to no one but me. No matter who might ask for them, they come to me and no one else. Is this understood?"

  "Sir." Jamiy stamped to attention.

  "Excellent. Dismissed. Lucius, your story is fascinating. But has Marselius a chance? Will not Caesar bring the other legions against him?"

  "Certainly he will try," Lucius said. "But neither Caesar nor the army likes winter campaigns. They will wait for spring. By spring Mars elius will have a surprise for Caesar." He grinned toothlessly. "Marselius has freed many slaves, and is training them to make and use those long spears you call 'pikes.' He has studied your methods well, and is also training crossbowmen since only your hill clans use the longbow."

  "A surprise for Caesar indeed-"

  "A surprise for you," Gwen said. "What advantage will you have now?"

  "You need none," Lucius said. "Marselius offers alliance with you."

  "A trap to get you back onto the plains," Gwen said.

  Rick switched to English to say, "Gwen, teach your grandmother to suck eggs. And please stop interrupting. I want to know everything I can about the situation, and you are not helping."

  "I'm sorry," she said. "I–I seem to be scared all the time lately. I don't want-I'll shut up, Rick. And I am sorry."

  "We know that you have no reason to trust Marselius," Lucius said. "But he does not expect you to send your soldiers to help him. What he wishes is assurance that you will not raid the western provinces. We will pay you well for that. Marselius intends to plant many of the parklands and game preserves in grain. He will build storage places in the high hills. We will keep much, but there will be enough to send you more than you could take by raiding the Empire."

  "Do you have caves to store it in?" Gwen asked. "Few, Lady." Lucius looked thoughtful. "The older documents all stress the importance of caves as the only safe place when the fire and the deadly rains fall. There are caves in the northern hills, and others near Rome. Perhaps we can take those. But there is no chance at all if we must fight your hill tribes as well."

  It can work, Rick thought. For that matter, I could do more. Once Marselius is involved in a civil war, I could join him. The army would follow me, and with allies in the Empire, I could take Rome itself. A civilized place, with real potential. Who could stop me? "And he went forth conquering, and to conquer."

  William took all of England with less going for him, and the English were the better for it. Well, better in the long run. They didn't see it that way at the time. "So stark a man," the chronicles say of him. "So very stern was he, and hot, that no man durst do anything against his will." But even his enemies said that a man could cross England with his bosom full of gold. I could govern better than Caesar.

  No. I'm no conqueror, and the face of battle is not a lovely sight. I'd rather be a teacher-and we don't have to fight anymore. "It is not my decision alone," Rick said. "But I will counsel Drumold to accept this offer. And to make another. There is land in the hills below our mountains. The Romans do little with it because they have better. Yet we have crofters with no land at all, and our best is no better than those hills. Let us work that land in peace, and it may be that we will have gifts for Marselius in exchange for the gifts he offers."

  "Rick, you can't turn down tribute," Gwen said in English.

  "I don't intend to," Rick answered. "But trade's a lot more stabilizing than tribute." He turned to Lucius. "There will be many details, but I believe we can agree. With the Demon Star coming near, there will be slaughter and death enough. We need not add more."

  2<
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  Rick used charcoal to add another equation to the list on his whitewashed wall. He wished he had been a better physics student. He couldn't remember the basic equations of harmonic motion, and he wasn't sure he had derived them correctly. "Newton was one smart cookie," he muttered to himself.

  The wall was covered with equations and notes and memoranda. One whole section listed things urgently needed, such as paper, and better lamps, and an adequate supply of pens and ink-all of which would be needed so that he could copy out a table of logarithms from his pocket calculator before its batteries failed. Another held the best data he had been able to obtain on crop yields. Next to that were diagrams of plow designs and crop-rotation schemes.

  There were endless details. The work would never be finished; but it was more satisfying work than building the army had been. The raid had bought time, but now he could do something lasting. Tamaerthon could become a center of learning, a place whose security rested on something more solid than military power. If only he had decent light to work by…

  When he heard the knock at his door, he turned with relief. The work was satisfying, but conversation was a welcome diversion.

  Caradoc stood uncertainly in the doorway. "Come in," Rick invited. "There's good wine in the flask on the table."

  "Thank you." Caradoc poured a cup of wine and looked curiously at Rick's charcoaled equations and the diagrams of the Tran system. Rick knew that Gwen had been teaching Caradoc to read, and the archer commander had shown a lot of interest in Rick's work in the past. Today, though, he said nothing.

  Rick frowned. "Some problem, Captain? Speak up, man."

  "I am concerned for the lady Gwen," Caradoc said. "She sits and stares at the fire, and wants no one with her. It cannot be good that she wishes always to be alone."

  "Don't let her be. Stay with her."

  "Lord, I try, but she has an evil temper."

  "That she does." Lately she had taken to throwing things. Rick had long since given up trying to talk to her. He looked at his chalked calendar. Tylara had grown increasingly moody as well. Certainly the long winter had a lot to do with that, but she seemed to be brooding over something else as well- something she wouldn't discuss. I'm surrounded by unhappy women, he thought. Just when things are going so well.

  Whatever Tylara's problem, though, there was a simple explanation for Gwen's moods. "Her time comes near," Rick said. "I do not have personal experience, but I am told that all women are hateful for their last days before a child is born. Especially a first child."

  And, he thought, it would be particularly tough for Gwen. She didn't even know when the baby would come. The local day on Tran was slightly more than 21 hours long, and the gestation period seemed to have stabilized at 290 local days, as opposed to 270 on Earth; but would that be true for Gwen? No one knew. Straight mathematics; multiply 270 by 24 and divide by 21, and you'd get 300 days. How much of human physiology responded to hours passed, and how much to the day-night cycle? And was Earth's moon involved? Women's menstrual cycles seemed to coincide with Luna, but Tran's double moons were small and much closer than Earth's. Did they have an influence?

  "You care for Gwen, don't you?" Rick asked.

  "Yes, lord. And before the raid, I believed she cared for me. Now I do not know."

  "She mourns her husband," Rick said. "But you are right. She is too much alone. I'll speak with her about it."

  "Your boyfriend's worried about you," Rick said. Gwen sat close to the fire. She looked up without smiling. "Oh, leave me alone!"

  "For God's sake, Gwen, snap out of it!"

  "Why?"

  "Do you think your problems are unique?" Rick demanded.

  "Yes."

  "Okay, I put my foot in it that time," Rick said. "Look, I've talked with the midwives. And Yanulf. They think everything's normal-"

  "The medical experts," Gwen sneered.

  "Well, they've delivered a lot of babies," Rick said.

  "Sure. And lost a lot of mothers. Rick, I'm scared out of my mind!"

  "Sure you are," Rick said. "Mind if I sit down?"

  "Suit yourself."

  "Thanks. Look, I've probably started a population explosion here, but I've taught them the beginnings of the germ theory of disease," Rick said.

  "You couldn't have. I've tried," Gwen said.

  "You didn't go about it the right way. I told them diseases were caused by little tiny devils, and that blessed soap and boiled holy water would drive them away. They can accept that." He looked thoughtful. "You know, I maybe right about a population explosion. It happened that way on Earth."

  Before the end of the nineteenth century, women often died of "childbed fever." But then came Ignaz Semmelweis with his theory that childbed fever was caused by physicians' dirty hands. His colleagues forced him to resign for saying it was their fault, but though he ended his days in a madhouse eventually enough of them believed him-after that most women lived to raise their children and have more. "There's no way we won't change things here," Rick said. "It isn't easy, but I'm trying to look ahead. Maybe we can avoid some of the problems we had on Earth."

  "Maybe we can't."

  "Look, dammit, snap out of it," Rick said. "You're working yourself into a depression. Keep it up and you'll get to me, too."

  "I'm sorry," Gwen said. "I really am. But it all seems so futile."

  "Why? Because we can't go home? We can make a home here," Rick said. "And-dammit, Gwen, we're more useful here than we ever were back on Earth. There wasn't much chance that anything we'd do there would change history, but we can here. We've already changed political history. We've got peace with the Empire and land to farm. Even if Marselius loses, we can hold those border hills for long enough to get in a harvest. With the new plows I've got the smiths working on, we'll triple the yields. We've helped these people already, and there's a lot more we can do!

  "Sure, I've got an ambiguous status. The bards are trying to make up ballads about the raid, and they keep running into the fact that I never fought anybody. They can't figure out if I'm a war leader or a mere wizard. But whatever I am, everyone wants to learn from us.

  "Gwen, we can start a university! Well, we start with grade school. But we can found a learning center that will really change this world. Look at what we can teach! Just the idea of scientific method and experimental science will bring on a revolution. And mathematics. We're not genius level, but we know more about geometry and algebra than was known on Earth through most of history. Medicine. Dental hygiene. Physics. Even electricity. I'm not up to transistors, but I can make batteries and vacuum tubes and-what the hell's the matter with you? You look like you've seen a ghost."

  "Rick, for God's sake-you haven't built radios, have you?"

  "Not yet. I'm still having trouble getting wire. But-"

  "Don't! Please, please don't." Her voice held genuine panic.

  "I see," Rick said. He stood arid went to her, then took both her hands in his. "Don'tyou think it's time you told me about it?" he asked. "For God's sake, Gwen, what did Les tell you, and why can't you tell me?"

  Tears welled in her eyes. "We're safe now," she said. "Just don't change anything. Oh, Rick, I'm scared-"

  "I know you are. But I don't know why. Gwen, please. Please tell me."

  She buried her face in her hands and wouldn't talk anymore.

  Three days later a messenger arrived from the west. Drumold summoned his counselors to his great hall to hear the news.

  The messenger was a young clansman who was proud of his mission. He said greetings to Drumold, then spoke to Tylara. "Six days ago there came to Tar Kartos a dozen lords and knights of Drantos. They had traveled in great haste and could go no farther. One lord asked if the Lady Tylara lived. All were overjoyed to learn you are safe in your father's hall. They then asked my chief to send a messenger to you, and I left that night. They asked me to greet you as Great Lady, Eqetassa of Chelm, and to say they regret they cannot come to you. They beg you to come to them."
/>   "Eqetassa of Chelm? But I have been driven from that land," Tylara said. "Who are they?"

  For answer the messenger held out a signet ring.

  "Camithon? But I saw him die," Tylara said. "He was thrown from the battlements."

  "A trick to bringyou to them," Drumold muttered. "Sarakos hates you yet."

  The messenger looked pained. "Do you say that Clan Ebolos aids enemies of Mac Clallan Muir?" he demanded.

  "No, no," Drumold protested. "But I do not understand what they want of my daughter."

  "Nor I," the messenger said. "But Calad my chief listened long to their story. Then he bade me speak these words: 'I have learned that which is of great importance to all the clans of Tamaerthon. I beg that Mac Clallan Muir and the Lady Eqetassa come to Tar Kartos with all haste.'"

  "In this winter?" Drumold demanded. "Nay, it will wait until the snow is gone from the passes."

  "My chief says not."

  "Father, you may wait," Tylara said. "But I have never heard that Calad is easily alarmed, or that he does not know how deep the snow lies in the passes.

  As for me — do you return now?" she asked the messenger.

  "As soon as I am dismissed," he said.

  "Then tell your chief that the dowager Eqetassa of Chelm will arrive as quickly as she is able."

  "Tylara, is this wise?" Rick asked.

  "What has wisdom to do with it? Sarakos may sit in my council hall, but they are my people yet."

  Damnation, Rick thought. Of course she'll go. "I'll get things ready," he said. "We can leave in the morning."

  "I had hoped you would come with me," Tylara said. For the first time in several days, she smiled at him.

  Drumold sighed. "Tell Calad your chief that Mac Clallan Muir will join him within a ten-day, and that the Lady Eqetassa will accompany him."

  Tar Kartos was at the western edge of the mountainous highlands that formed Tamaerthon, and over the centuries had been built into a strongly walled town. After five days' travel across the frozen lochs, Rick was glad to reach the somber fortress.