by Robert Adams
"Only some of the more colorful references to Captain Bralos' ancestry and personal habits, my lord Captain," replied the senior lieutenant wryly.
"Well, Bralos, you get the general drift of the old man's slanders," concluded Ehrrikos.
"How did my men take all this, Hymos?" asked the commander of Wolf Squadron. "Do they seem to think the worse of me?"
The youngest officer smiled grimly. "Sir, they considered, first and foremost, the source and thought of all the hardships that he has tried to inflict upon them and all the other soldiers, and they recalled the officer who has so generously cared for them, indulged them, even paid them out of his own purse when his accuser would not. No officer or sergeant needs to tell the troopers of your squadron who is their champion, their benefactor and their truest friend, my lord Captain Vahrohnos Bralos, nor can the fevered rantings of even so high-ranking an officer of this army as the Grand Strahteegos Thoheeks Pahvlos the Warlike convince the squadron that white is suddenly become black and black, white.
"And Captain Opokomees Ehrrikos holds high regard for you, as well, my lord. The Grand Strahteegos ordered the mail be buried, but the captain instead saw it hidden and scattered around the officers' baggage wagons, instead."
But when Bralos would have thanked his military peer, Ehrrikos shrugged and said, "Hell, comrade, I'd've done the same for any other whom I happened to feel was being wronged and robbed through no real fault of his own. That kind of mail is damnably expensive stuff, I know; I once priced a shirt of it and walked around in a state of shock for two weeks afterwards."
"But the risk you took for me . . ." Bralos protested, his words cut off by Ehrrikos.
"Damn the risk, my friend, it's you who is at risk, terrible risk, every day and every night while Pahvlos is in this camp. For whatever reason, he truly hates you, he means to have your guts for garters, and no doubt about it. Were I you, I'd keep my blankets rolled and my baggage packed constantly. Be ready to take your squadron and ride at a moment's notice, comrade, for you know that if you flee alone, that monster we now serve will, at his best, send Wolf Squadron on your trail with written orders to bring back your head. At worst, he'll force them to bring you back alive to be slowly tortured to death, or maimed, then impaled or crucified."
"No, I talked all of everything over with Sub-strahteegos Thoheeks Tomos Gonsalos while the army was gone," said Bralos soberly. "I have decided that the very next personal insult or public accusation of wrongdoing of any nature or attempt to get at me through the officers or common troopers of Wolf Squadron will be the time when I sell back my rank, demand , the long-overdue pay of my troopers, sergeants and officers, mount us all up and set out for my vahrohnohseeahn, in the south. As Tomos says, Pahvlos is a very old man and is leading a very strenuous life and cannot therefore be expected to live much longer, even does he not so far overreach himself that the Council finds it must put paid to his long-overdue account lest he finally really wreck this army of theirs for good and all.
"In normal times, I like soldiering, but I cannot do it longer under such a man, so I will leave it until he no longer commands."
"I pray that you not wait just a little too long, my friend," said Ehrrikos earnestly . . . and prophetically, though he knew it not.
Chapter VII
Sergeant Tahntos was seated astraddle a contrivance of wood, the sharp edges of two dovetailed boards cutting like a dull knifeblade into his naked crotch. His arms were trussed brutally tight behind his back, elbows to wrists, the hands become a uniform bluish grey from lack of circulation, the muscles of his upper torso looking fit to burst through the skin with the strain. A brace of heavy shields was suspended from each ankle. His eyes were closed, though the lids fluttered from time to time, and save for trickles of blood from each corner of his mouth, his face was pale as fresh curds, his jaws tight-clenched in his agony.
Three spearmen of the Grand Strahteegos' foot-guards squatted nearby, watching and occasionally taunting the suffering sergeant in a cruel, childish way.
"Hey, big man, has them boards cracked yore balls, yet? Heheheh," shouted one of them.
"It was one feller, out of Asshole Ahzprinos' bunch of stump-jumpers, he was," another put in, "he scrooched him around wrong and the damn boards cut his pecker plumb in two, he bled like a fuckin' stuck pig, too, died in five minits. Don't thet beat all? Hey, Sergeant, you hear me?"
"Aw, hell, he ain't no fun atall," remarked the third disgustedly. "He ain't screamed or begged or nuthin', ain't made hardly a sound a body could hear lest they was right up there with him. Maybe we oughta ask for to hang another couple of shields on his laigs, I bet you his money that would start him in to screechin', boys. What you think, you want to do it?"
The nude, tortured man jerked reflexively as a deerfly bit his cheek, and the movement almost made him lose his precarious balance. Righting himself brought a low groan of pure agony from behind his chewed and bloody lips.
"Here he starts, boys, here he starts," said one of the foot-guards with excitement and evident relish. "Firstest thing you know he gone be a-howlin' like a dog and a-cryin' like a baby at the same time."
"No, he is not." The cold, hard voice came from behind them, and they all whirled about to see a fully armed lancer officer sitting a fine horse, his helmet and breastplate winking in the sunlight, a bared saber at rest against his spauldron. Behind him were ranged a dozen or more officers and sergeants of lancers, all armed, all with cold menace shining from their eyes, but none of their stares so icy, so intimidating as that of the officer who led them.
Dropping the reins on the pommel-knob of his war-saddle, the officer waved a signal to those behind him, saying, "Get Sergeant Tahntos from off that hellish contraption before it unmans him or he dies of pain. If these sadistic swine make to halt or hinder you in the least, you have my leave to put them up there in his place."
After removing the shields from the sufferer's ankles, strong, gentle hands joined to lift his tormented body from off the sharp-edged boards, then the flashing blade of a dagger severed the cords binding his wrists and elbows. While four men carried their comrade back to the horses to lay him facedown across the withers of yet another's horse, two troopers batted and cuffed the three foot-guards about until they had surrendered all of the clothing and the money and personal effects of Sergeant Tahntos.
Finding a store of cords and other things beneath the contrivance, certain of the troopers and sergeants took time to bind the arms of the foot-guards, hoist them all up on the sharp boards, weight their ankles, and leave them, already shrieking piteously.
"No slightest doubt but that they'll be coming after me quite shortly, Hymos," said Bralos.
"They'll play merry hell getting you, my lord Captain," averred Senior Lieutenant Hymos firmly. "Not one officer or man in Wolf Squadron but won't fight to the very death for you. Comes to that, we can hack our way out of camp and ..."
"And you'd all be slaughtered, darted out of the saddle by the light infantry or shot full of arrows by the foot-archers, and I could not live with the knowledge that I'd been responsible for that kind of a massacre," said Bralos just as firmly. "No, what you will do is first send officer-gallopers to the sub-strahteegos, to Portos and to Captain Ehrrikos of Panther Squadron . . . oh, and to Captain Chief Pawl Vawn, too. Most of the senior officers are my friends, and, too, I have friends on Council. The only way that that old bastard could kill me unopposed would be to do it in private, and that's not what he wants at all; for some reason, he wants a public execution complete with all the ritual humiliations and tortures and maimings and a well-witnessed death. No, in custody or not, I'll be safe for the nonce.
"But after you've dispatched those gallopers, I want you and all the rest of the squadron to start getting ready for a march of about two weeks. If we ever come back here at all, it won't be for some time, like as not, so pack up everything. The cooks and the eeahtrohsee have been paid for thirty more days, so bring
them and the other specialists along, also. Tell the smith to pack everything that he can squeeze into that traveling forge I bought him, and the cooks are to strip the kitchens and snag any edibles they can beg, borrow or steal from wherever.
"You'd better send over a detail now to cut our horses out of the permanent herd and another detail to the depot to harness teams and hitch them to our wagons, then drive them back here to be loaded. Set my servants to packing my own effects, and if the sub-strahteegos sends over a small, heavy chest, put it in my largest trunk."
He might have said more, but a pounding of approaching hoofbeats heralded the arrival of Captain-of-squadron Opokomees Ehrrikos, his face streaming salt sweat and twisted by a frown of worry. Flinging himself from the saddle of the heaving horse, he ran up the steps and burst into the room, gasping, "Bralos, the old man is even now on his way to arrest you for inciting to mutiny. One of my boys was on an errand to army headquarters and saw and heard them forming up a strong party of both horse- and foot-guards, plus a company of foot-archers. Chief Pawl was there and was ordered to add a troop of his Horseclansmen to the party, but he politely told them to do their own dirty work, that he was not down here nor his men either to help overweening dotards conduct vendettas against their own officers. My boy says that at that, some of the old man's own horse-guard officers had to physically keep him from drawing steel and going after Chief Pawl. It's a crying shame they did it, too; Pawl would've minced his lights nicely.
"Well, good God, man, what are you dawdling for, get your arse in a saddle, I'll delay them for as long as I can . . ."
"Hymos," said Bralos calmly, "send out those gallopers, now, to the sub-strahteegos and Senior Captain Thoheeks Portos; you need not now send to the other two, since they obviously have been otherwise apprised. Set all of the other wheels in motion, if you please. I'll stay here and chat with my comrade until it is necessary for me to go elsewhere."
Sub-strahteegos Thoheeks Tomos Gonsalos stalked into the army headquarters building, his face fire-red and streaming sweat, his brick-colored beard and moustaches bristling. Just behind him came Captain-of-squadron Chief Pawl Vawn of Vawn and several of his sub-chiefs, Senior Captain-of-brigade Thoheeks Portos, Captain-of-pikes Guhsz Hehluh and Captain-of-foot Ahzprinos. No guardsman still in his right mind would have essayed to try to stop or even to slow such an aggregation of grim-faced senior officers. And none did.
Before their dogged onslaught, members of the headquarters staff scattered like a covey of quail. Before they all could flit away, Portos reached out a big, hard hand and snagged a junior lieutenant by his flabby biceps, terrified him with a look that smacked of a quick, bloody death, then put him to the question.
"Where is Captain-of-squadron Vahrohnos Bralos?"
"In ... in ... out in the rear court, See . . . See . . . Senior C-Captain," the unfortunate quavered, his voice cracking several times.
"And where is the Grand Strahteegos?" demanded Portos.
"He ... he is ... he is there, t-too. To oversee the ... the first f-flogging, and it p-please your grace." The man sniffled, and when Portos hurled him into a heap in a corner, he wet his crotch and began to shudder and sob, then, suddenly, retch up his last meal. Sub-chief Myk Vawn, as he passed the wretched officer, wrinkled up his nose, suspecting that the next-to-last meal had found another means of egress from the staff officer.
Before the party had reached the back of the building, they heard the drums begin to roll, and before they all were outside, they heard the regular, whistling cracks of the whip commence. But these last continued only until Portos grabbed the weighted tip of the lash on the backswing and jerked the surprised wielder from off his feet.
The Grand Strahteegos Thoheeks Pahvlos jumped up from his chair, upsetting it, the small table and the bowl of fresh grapes he had been sharing with the boy, Ilios, who himself voiced a shrill shriek, though not leaving the cushioned chair.
"What is this, Mutiny Day, gentlemen?" burst out Pahvlos. "You, Captain Portos, give that man back his whip and let's get on with the punishment. This will be but the first of many, of course, but I mean to have that pig singing nicely before this day be done. Next week, when everything has been arranged, I mean to see the bastard's spine and shoulder blades and ribs, before I see his traitorous neck stretched."
Disgustedly, Tomos Gonsalos snatched the whip from Portos and flung it high atop the roof of the building. "You old fool," he said to Pahvlos. 'Don't you know your kind of senseless super-discipline and sadism is well on the way to tearing Council's army apart at the seams? Do you even care? Or it that really your aim, to dissolve the army first, then the Consolidated Thoheekseeahnee? Would you be king, is that it? Or . . ." He frowned for a moment, trying to recall just how the High Lord had phrased it in his most recent, most secret letter, then he had it. "Or do you serve other, more sinister interests, my lord? Are they perhaps far-southern interests?"
The Grand Strahteegos continued to stare his indignation and rage at the group, but from out the corner of his eye, Tomos Gonsalos saw the cryptic verbal barb find lodging in the bumboy, Ilios, who started as if touched with a red-hot iron.
But now Portos stalked forward and faced his furious commander, stating flatly, "You had no right to do any more than arrest Captain Vahrohnos Bralos and hold him in custody until he was brought to face the officers' panel, and you know it full well, my lord Thoheeks. You are, by this heinous act, yourself guilty of criminal activity . . . and you know that, too, my lord Thoheeks."
"This man," declared the Grand Strahteegos, "freed a common sergeant who had tried to cross the perimeter contrary to my promulgated orders, had fought with and grievously injured some of the obedient men who stopped him, and was therefore undergoing punishment on the wooden horse. This man not only freed the malefactor, but he had three of my fine foot-guards beaten severely by his troops, then bound them and placed them, most unjustly, on the punishment horse, leaving them there to scream and writhe in agony until someone decided that no one man alone could make so much noise and came finally to their rescue."
"I knew you'd bring that up," said Pawl Vawn, "and I investigated the matter early on. The sergeant's wife was near death of the fever, and word was sent to him that she was calling for him. What else was a loving husband to do, stupid rules or no stupid rules?"
"My rules are in no way stupid," declared the old man. "At least, in no way that a civilized, cultured Ehleen gentleman could understand. Of course, you barbarians are a crude, rude, uncultured and often quite obnoxious race at your best. I possibly should not expect men of your limited intellectual capacities to ever comprehend, but I will, nonetheless, try one last time to explain to you.
"Three primary things are the utter ruination of your old-fashioned common soldier. These are unwonted luxuries such as hot baths, too much armor and too little work; an overabundance of drink; and women. I sincerely hope that that insubordinate sergeant's wife is dead, for he will be the better man and soldier without her.
"Women rob a man of his vitality, and often by sucking the life clear out of him. They ..."
"And what, pray tell," muttered one of the Horseclans sub-chiefs from somewhere within the crowd, "does that overpretty pooeesos of yours suck out of you, lordy boy?"
The old man turned crimson and clapped hand to his swordhilt. He stepped forward and demanded, "What creature of slime said that? Dare you to show your face to me, you ill-bred pig?"
"Enough and more than enough!" snapped Tomos Gonsalos. "We are come to free Captains Bralos and Ehrrikos. They will be held for a hearing, my lord Thoheeks, but until and if the officers' panel says them guilty of some crime, they are not going to be further punished. Pawl, would you and yours kindly see to Bralos and Ehrrikos? Thank you."
"Guards, stop them!" the old man half-shouted at the quintet of his foot-guards, who had wisely kept still and silent through it all.
Old Guhsz Hehluh slouched forward, hitching his swordbelt around f
or quicker, easier access to the weapon, and Captain Ahzprinos was not far to his rear. "Tell me, boys," asked the captain of mercenary pikemen, in tones of friendly conversation, "is all this here really worth you dying for?"
The Horseclansmen freed Captain Ehrrikos—seized for "aiding and abetting the attempted escape of the notorious malefactor and mutineer who calls himself Bralos of Yohyültönpolis" and promised three dozens of lashes after Bralos had had his share—while others loosened the deep-biting ropes from Bralos' wrists and ankles, then eased him to the ground and flung his torn shirt over his bloody back and shoulders.
Walking to his friend's side, Ehrrikos squatted and asked—a bit stupidly, as he later admitted to all and sundry—"Does it hurt much, Bralos?"
Through tight-clenched and bloody teeth, the flogged man gritted, "Only when I laugh, Ehrrikos."
While the officers were being chosen for the trial panel—they would act as both jury and judges, could find guilt or innocence, set punishments or rewards for anyone connected with the trial, not just the accused officers, and had the power during their tenure to call anyone they wanted to hear, military or civilian, noble or commoner, man or woman, and could demand to peruse any documents save only state secrets—Bralos was cared for in his tightly guarded quarters by his servants, his officers and the senior among his eeahtrohsee. His own bodyguards—save only for the convalescing Sergeant Tahntos, who was being nursed in the settlement beyond the perimeter by his newly dead wife's sister—took watch-on-watch so that there never were fewer than two of them outside his door. His officers haunted the outer rooms, both by day and by night, and a constant cordon of troopers and sergeants surrounded the headquarters building, brusquely disarming any officer or man not of their own who made to enter, assured that the officers just inside would back them up with authority should anyone try to pull rank on them.