by Robert Adams
"As for the rest of them, I can think of no safer place for them, just now, than within that secret drawer wherein you found them. Do not breathe a single word of any of this to even your lovers or your dearest friends; if talk you have to, talk to your horse and in strictest privacy.
"Now, polish off that brandy and hie you back to your bed. The drums will roll at the usual time and you'll be expected to perform your usual duties."
"So, my lord Thoheeks Sitheeros," continued Captain Bralos, "I was sought out at drill some months later, ordered to wash and change to dress uniform, then to present myself to the adjutant at the headquarters of Sub-strahteegos Thoheeks Tomos Gonsalos. When I did so, the sub-strahteegos had me ushered into his office, opened a small boiled-leather chest and counted out to me ten and a half pounds-weight of gold Zenos."
Sitheeros whistled and shook his head silently. Each undipped Zenos of Karaleenos contained a full ounce-weight of pure gold, and the rate of exchange at the time of which they were conversing would have represented a sum of between three and four hundred thousand thrahkmehee of purchasing power in the then-depressed economy of the war-scarred, impoverished land, wherein gold had commanded vastly enhanced values.
Gonsalos had said, "My cousin, Prince Zenos, would like to see and examine another selection of similar size. Even should he not decide to buy all of these as he bought all of the first lot, he will see that you receive the top prices for them from whomever—if any man living has unlimited access to well-heeled dealers, it's my cousin, and none of them is so witless as to try to cheat him.
"Have you decided in which thoheekseeahn you want to buy land and title, young Bralos?"
Upon being told of the offer from Thoheeks Klaios, Gonsalos had sat for a few moments, pulling at his chinbeard. Then he had nodded once and said, "You should not buy land you've never seen and at least walked over from a man you know but briefly. I'm going to have an order drafted temporarily detaching you from the foot-guards and assigning you to my headquarters; you'll be taking it back to your captain from here. Bring all of those gems back with you—I'll make the selections and lodge the rest in my strongbox.
"On the morrow, you'll be leading out a score of my horse-guards. Your destination will be the Thoheekseeahn of Ahndropolis. If, after you've seen and examined the land, talked over the inherent rights and obligations of the holder and, most important, decided whether or not you can live under or even really like your prospective overlord, you still want to buy what he has to sell, you can give him the two pounds-weight of gold you'll have carried down there and promise him the rest—in gold—when you have been properly invested. How much did he say he wanted, anyway?"
Lieutenant Bralos had replied, "One hundred and twenty thousand thrahkmehee, my lord Sub-strahteegos."
"Hmmm, sounds reasonable, about what your average vahrohnoseeahn seems to be going for down here these days, but even so, see if you can haggle him down to a hundred thousand, my boy. Remember, rank also hath its definite responsibilities, and the folk and erections on that land will be yours, once you're invested their lord," said Gonsalos, adding, "And you're probably going to have to carry those folk for as long as it takes to get the land into production again, not to mention rebuilding town walls, habitations and, probably, even your hold. Then you'll have to furnish your hold and town residence, hire on a certain number of garrison troops and other functionaries to mind the place in your absence . . . unless you intend to sell your lieutenancy and retire. Do you so intend, Bralos?"
"No, my lord Sub-strahteegos," Lieutenant Bralos had answered. "I like the army and I had actually intended to buy a captaincy-of-cavalry, could I afford it after buying land and title."
Gonsalos had smiled broadly and warmly. "Good, good, that's what I'd hoped you'd say, Bralos. You're a fine young man, a good officer, and you'll be an equally fine squadron captain, I'm sure. When you're ready to purchase that captaincy, let me know."
Thoheeks Klaios and his sparkling, vivacious young wife had treated Lieutenant Bralos less like a favored guest than like a loved member of the family from the very beginning of his stay with them. He could see that although ravaged, overgrown and showing the evidence of neglect, the land was basically good and, with hard work, could be put right and productive again. The walls of the town were in need of extensive repairs and the hold looked as if nothing short of total rebuilding would suffice to make it livable and defensible again; however, the thoheeks was quick to tell him of the granite quarry in his thoheekseeahn and of a few skilled stonemasons locally available; he also made mention of his agreements with neighboring thoheeksee to trade dressed stone for baked roofing-tiles and building-brick.
In the end, Bralos had been able to haggle the price of his lands and title down to one hundred and twelve thousand thrahkmehee in gold. Thoheeks Klaios not only freely gave Bralos a very favorable tax-structure for ten years into the future, but offered to have his own seneschal oversee the governance of whomever Bralos hired on to rule in his absence.
Bralos had ridden back to the camp below Mehseepolis thinking that matters had worked out very well for his aspirations to date. All now needed was his investiture, the payment of the rest of the gold to his new civil overlord, then purchase of a squadron captaincy, which last he would have scant difficulty selling to another nobleman should he ever find himself in need of the money or should he decide to retire to his lands and start the breeding of sons to inherit them and his new title.
However, thanks primarily to the press of military duties, that investiture was long in coming. By the time that he was invested, Grand Strahteegos Pahvlos the Warlike had taken over the army and begun to tailor it to his personal tastes, readying it for the march west to Kahlkopolis. He and his troop fought well at Kahlkopolis, capturing an enemy banner and receiving the personal notice and public thanks for Captain Portos himself.
But then, during the return march, Bralos, part of his troop, a young ensign of foot and some pikemen were seconded to serve as garrison for the city of Ippohspolis, loaned by the Grand Strahteegos until the new city lord could hire on troops of his own. As said new lord, knowing a good thing when he saw it, dragged his feet incessantly, Bralos and the rest vegetated for almost a year before someone back at Mehseepolis finally remembered and recalled them.
No sooner, however, were the sometime Ippohspolis garrison back in the camp below Mehseepolis than Bralos and his troopers needs must ride out with their squadron on a foray against a far-southern opokomees whose armed band had taken to raiding his neighbors round about and who had forwarded the pickled head of the herald Council had sent down to try to reason with him. Ambushed before they had even reached the border of the opokomeeseeah, the squadron had sustained heavy losses and, with Bralos and his troop covering it, had executed a retrograde movement . . . tails between legs.
Before he had suicided of pure shame, the captain of the squadron had effusively praised the bravery and sagacity of Lieutenant Bralos to the Grand Strahteegos, Tomos Gonsalos and Council. The humiliated officer had strongly recommended Bralos for squadron command, but by the time the squadron and the remainder of the expeditionary force had returned once more to Mehseepolis with the head of the rebel opokomees and a long file of chain-laden bandits to be gelded and put into slavery on the roads, it was to find that the Grand Strahteegos had sold command of the squadron to "a more mature man," an officer of the onetime royal army almost as old as Pahvlos himself.
Naturally, Bralos could not request leave to journey down and be invested until the new captain had gotten to know the officers and troopers of the squadron, and by the time things had shaken down and the vacancies in the ranks had been filled, they and half the squadron of the Horseclansmen were sent off into the northwestern foothills after a reorganized band of bandit marauders which had taken to harrying certain of the border thoheekseeahnee and even raiding across the border, taking the chance of agitating the now-peaceful barbarians.
Ea
rly on in the campaign, the new captain had made complaint at the evening meal of dull pains in both arms and, sulphurously cursing the cold, damp air, had retired to his tent and bed rather early; just before dawn his servant had found him cold and dead in his bed. This had left Captain Chief Pawl of Vawn as senior officer of the expeditionary force.
The Horseclans chief had ridden up to where a gaggle of light cavalry officers stood grouped near to the dead captain's tent while servants prepared the body for the pyre.
From his saddle, he had demanded, "Who's the senior lieutenant of the squadron, gentlemen?"
Acting Squadron Captain Bralos and Captain Chief Pawl had found that they worked well together, a something that could not have been said for the Horseclansman chief's short, stormy relationship with the now-deceased man who had originally been appointed senior officer of the combined force by Grand Strahteegos Pahvlos.
There followed a succession of short, vicious, bloody skirmishes with portions of the bandit band, none of the small fights accomplishing anything worthwhile, due to the fact that the bandits, when stung, retreated across the border which the Council troops had been expressly forbidden to do, for whatever reason.
At last, of a wet, blustery night, while Bralos sat in the tent he had inherited along with squadron command, poring over sketch-maps of the hills while an eeahtros changed the bandage protecting a fairly fresh sword-cut on the young officer's bridle-arm, the guards had admitted the cloaked Chief Pawl.
After shedding the sodden, dripping cloak and hanging it in such fashion that water from it would not pond on the tent's flooring, the slender, wiry man sat down and poured himself a measure of watered wine from the jar, swallowed appreciatively, then asked, "How's the arm, Bralos? Healing well?"
"It hurts less and itches more, so I suppose it's healing," was Bralos' reply, "but for an expert's comments, you'll have to ask Master Geros, here. Well, Geros, old friend?"
The eeahtros smiled fleetingly. "My lord Captain, it is progressing as well as can be expected, since the lord lieutenant insists upon using it as if it were sound, day after day."
Sipping at the cup of wine, the Horseclansman then sat and chatted of inconsequential topics until the eeahtros had completed his tasks and departed into the rainy night. Then Vawn drew his stool closer to Bralos and spoke in hushed tones.
"Look you, Bralos, we could carry on like this until next year this time and not do anything of value up here. The few hunters that the thoheeksee have loaned us may know wild game, but they know damn-all about military operations. Winter is approaching fast and I do not want to be up here to meet it, nor do I look forward to going back to Mehseepolis with nothing but casualties and used-up supplies to show for our efforts.
"When you go after rats, you first put a brace of terriers at the bolthole before you let the ferret down the burrow. The border, up there, is these rats' bolthole, and we'll never scotch more than two or three at any one time until we get that bolthole covered properly, don't you see."
Bralos shook his head. "But what can we do, Captain? We were warned in no uncertain terms not to cross over into the barbarian lands. If only we could be certain of a time when and a place where barbarian warriors would be along their side of the border . . . but I can see no way for us to do that."
The Horseclansman's thin lips parted as he grinned. "Oh, but there is a way to do just so, Bralos. With the dawn, I'm going to be riding up there with two of my men and a local type who says he not only knows how to reach the village of the chief, but knows that worthy of old. I'm going to be leaving you in overall command, but I want you to do nothing save patrol the perimeter and not fight unless attached. The men and the horses can all use a few days of rest . . . and so too can you and your arm."
"Captain, I beg you not to go," pled Bralos. "If you do, it will be in direct contradiction to the personal orders of the Grand Strahteegos."
Grinning even more widely, Vawn drew out an oilskin documents pouch, unwound it and fumbled through papers until he found the one he wanted, then proffered it to the younger officer, saying, "If you read it, Bralos, it states that under no circumstances is any officer of the force to lead his command across the border, even if in hot pursuit of bandits.
"Well, I am not going to be leading my command anywhere, they're going to be hunkering down here in camp along with you and yours. I'm simply riding up there with a couple of my relatives to pay a friendly call on a fellow-barbarian chief and chew the fat with him."
Bralos shook his head. "Captain, you are not a barbarian, not in any way such; those people up there are, and they all hate Ehleenohee. Most likely, if ride you insist, you'll be riding to your death in those hills."
"Oh, but I am a barbarian," Vawn assured him. "I and my kindred are no whit different from the folk of those mountain tribes, Bralos. Yes, they ate most Ehleenee . . . but with good and sufficient reasons: not only did your ancestors drive theirs from the rich lands that you now hold, but your race and theirs have been more or less at war over lands ever since. It is precisely because those tribes and I are both racially and linguistically akin that I think I can talk them around to helping us eradicate a common menace: those damned bandit raiders.
"I will be taking along two prairiecats to scout and act as both hidden guards and messengers. Should both of them come back without me or any of my party, then you may be certain that none of us will ever come back and that whatever else is done about these bandits up here will be fully in your hands; Lieutenant Sub-chief Bili Vawn, my half brother, has orders to completely subordinate himself and his force to you and abide by your decisions."
"Is there nothing that I can do or say to dissuade you from this suicidal folly?" asked Bralos despairingly.
"Did I think it certain suicide, I'd not be doing it," Vawn assured him. "Let's just call it a calculated risk, a quality with which warfare is riddled. But I've dealt with mountain tribes quite often, up north, in Kehnooryos Ehlahs, learned to speak their dialects and respect their cultures. I know and you know full well that some new something must be introduced to end this seemingly endless little war of attrition against the bandits, and I think that with a bit of help from my far-distant cousins, that new strategy can be speedily accomplished."
"But ... to so risk your very life . . . ?" Bralos began.
Vawn laughed. "Friend Bralos, I and you and every other officer and trooper and clansman of this or any other force risks life each time a horse is forked or an attack is ordered or shining steel is drawn or arrows fly.
"Now, I must bid you a good night and seek my blankets." He stood up and reached for his cloak. "Dawn always comes early, it seems."
Captain Chief Pawl Vawn of Vawn had succeeded in his aims, returned from his mountain mission with presents and a dozen warrior-guides out of the Maginiz Tribe. Then, for over a week, the force had carefully herded the chary bandits, avoiding combat as much as possible, but heading the foe in a chosen direction until, at last, the earlier-chosen time and place was reached. Then Bralos and Vawn threw every effective against the concentrated band: Bralos' Ehleen squadron, Vawn's Horseclansmen, some twoscore armed retainers and hunters on loan from the local thoheeksee and the dozen Maginiz fighters.
It was of course a running, mounted fight from its inception, both sides being horsemen, and as usual when the bandits had had enough, they began to stream over the nearby border. But presently, frantic, desperate men began to spur-rake frothing horses back over that selfsame border, many of them hotly pursued by grim, well-armed mountain tribesmen, both ahorse and afoot and all with certain blood-soaked scores to be settled.
Not many of the largish band survived, and of those who did, the ones who were marched south in chains considered themselves extremely blessed with good fortune, for even the gelding and branding and life of slavery toward which they were being driven was far preferable to the sure fates of those survivors who had been claimed by the tribes of the mountains.
The force and th
eir captives happened to return to the camp below Mehseepolis at a time while the Grand Strahteegos and most of the rest of the army were away somewhere in the east persuading a thoheeks to be reasonable and seek confirmation of his inherited title from Council rather than trying to proclaim himself King and successor to Zastros. Pahvlos' absence had left Sub-strahteegos Tomos Gonsalos in full command of the camp and such forces as remained therein.
Chapter IV
Grand Strahteegos Pahvlos the Warlike and the army still were absent on campaign when Lieutenant Vahrohnos Bralos of Yohyültönpolis returned from thirty days' leave, during which time he had been invested with his newly purchased civil rank and lands. The investiture had been witnessed by a covey of the squadron officers and by Captain Chief Pawl Vawn of Vawn along with some of his kindred subordinates. The guest-witnesses had stayed on to take part in the great hunt that had preceded the feastings and had all consumed their fair shares of the game and other foods, wines, beer, pear cider and other potables. The nongame foods and drink had been ostensibly provided by Thoheeks Klaios but had, in point of fact, been paid for by some ounces of gold loaned the overlord by Bralos.
Once back in camp, the senior lieutenant of the now-captainless squadron had thrown himself with a will into preparing the unit for field service. Replacement troopers had to be fitted in along with replacements for horses and equipment, while still-serviceable items required cleaning at least and often repair and refurbishing after the long, hard use in the wet, misty foothills and mountains. But Bralos knew what needed doing and he did or saw it all done to perfection.
At long last came the day when the army returned, carrying the pickled head of the thoheeks who would have had himself recognized king of the Southern Ehleenohee. A wretched column of those who had borne arms against Council's army and had had the misfortune to not die in battle were herded in the rear, ungently shepherded by lancers, while a delegation of lesser nobility from the thoheekseeahn rode in the van with the Grand Strahteegos and his heavy horse bodyguards.