by John F. Carr
“Yes,” Prince Bosphros, “we’d not only make a pretty pfennig, but his subjects would be forced to pay for his return. I see what you’re getting at, Captain-General. Once he’s ransomed back to Cythor, he’ll have to answer to his masters at Styphon’s House. I don’t believe that either Grand Master Soton or Styphon’s Voice will view his overzealousness on the battlefield with much favor.”
Everyone liked that analysis and it was roundly cheered with “Huzzah’s.”
“Well said, Captain-General,” Prince Thykarses stated. “Do we all agree that Prince Simias of Cythor shall be held for the usual sum of one hundred thousand ounces of silver?”
“Aye,” went every voice in the hall.
“The next item,” Thykarses continued, “is the disposition of the enemy commander, Captain-General, Duke Eukides.”
Mnestros rose up, saying: “I ask that we bring him into our chambers and let him argue his own case. As far as we know, he is blameless for Styphon’s House’s atrocities and was doing no wrong either in the eyes of man or of Galzar. Plus, he did all men everywhere a boon by ordering the death of the monster Roxthar.”
“Hear, hear!”
Duke Eukides entered the room with shoulders back and a stern countenance. Hestophes quickly introduced him, giving a list of his honors and battlefield record.
Thykarses asked, “What do you have to say for yourself, Duke?”
Eukides rose to his feet. “I was called to service for the Union Army by my Prince, the late Prince Varion of Kryphlon. It was my feudal and sworn obligation to do as my lord directed. I opposed the godless Styphoni and their henchman Roxthar at every turn, but was overruled by the Union leadership. I can truthfully say I gained neither honor nor pleasure from my association with the Union of Styphon’s Friends Army. As duly sworn by my post as Captain-General and co-commander of the Union Army, I led the forces at the Battle of Varthon Town to the best of my ability. Our loss was due both to Prince Simias’ treachery and the displeasure of the true gods.
“I have nothing else to say in my favor, except that I am glad that the Union lost this battle and only wish that it would have ended the war. Let my man, Captain Dylon, take full credit for the slaying of the heartless beast known as Archpriest Roxthar of the Inner Circle of Styphon’s House.”
He sat down to another chorus of “Hear, hear!”
“Well said, Duke Eukides. Are we all agreed that the Duke bears no responsibility for the crimes committed in the name of Styphon’s House and the Investigation?”
The collected Princes, except for Prince Kyphanes, agreed. “He fought for those demons in human form and he should pay for his errors.”
“He has paid already,” Prince Thykarses pronounced. “His army is in tatters and this battle left a stain on his reputation. I say we ransom him for fifty thousand silver crowns.”
Eukides rose again, “No, no. With my Prince dead, there will be no one except my family to pay my ransom and I have no desire to beggar them for my release. You can have my parole and I will spend my last days here.”
Prince Kyphanes—the former Speaker of the League until his foot-dragging instead of preparing for the war had had him demoted—spoke out. “We could never trust him, sworn word or not. What if Styphon’s House held his family hostage and demanded his loyalty? No man could refuse such terms.”
There were grunts and sounds of agreement.
Prince Thykarses spoke again, “Our Hostigi ally has come up with a solution to this dilemma. Captain-General Hestophes, what is your recommendation?”
“That he stay with my command and return to Thagnor City with us.
“Why, that might not be until winter,” Kyphanes objected. “We can’t have him here unless we put him under house arrest, or keep him in the dungeon.”
“Can you answer his objection, Captain-General?” the Speaker asked.
“Yes, we will be leaving for Hostigos in a moon quarter. Our work here is done”
“What do you mean?” asked several princes at once with panic in their voices.
“The first stage of the war ended in victory. However, there is no way that the League can face the Host of Styphon’s Deliverance and fight them on equal terms. My people left two thousand casualties on the battlefield and the League lost another five thousand. If the Host were to arrive today, the most men the League could field would be eleven or twelve thousand men, even counting our contribution. The Styphoni Host, which includes some of the best soldiers in the Five Kingdoms, would outnumber us four or five to one.”
It appeared, from the open mouths and wide eyes, that most of the princes had not thought that far ahead or counted the enemy’s numbers, something Kalvan always advised. Drunk on the wine of victory, they had lost sight of the larger field.
“This war will not be won by open battle. True, we destroyed the Union and its Army, but I doubt that Grand Master Soton relied on the Union of Styphon’s Friends for anything more than cannon fodder. They have thinned our ranks, and for that, they have performed a victory of sorts for their masters in Balph. From now on, you will either retreat to your own princedoms to be defeated in detail, one by one, or you will fight them through what my Great King calls Fabian tactics!”
Hestophes continued speaking about how the League needed to avoid decisive battles and gave them ideas on how to use skirmishes to cause attrition, disrupt the enemy’s supply lines and affect morale. What he didn’t tell them was that these tactics were only adopted when no alternative strategy was feasible.
“This kind of warfare could take many winters,” one prince complained.
“The League is badly outnumbered in manpower, not to mention that Styphon’s House can outspend you many times over,” Hestophes told them. “If the League’s army directly engages the Host of Styphon’s Deliverance, it will be destroyed along with its best soldiers. Then where will you be? Once he has captured each of your capitals, Grand Master Soton will have to garrison each and every one of them. He does not have enough men to leave behind an army in each princedom.
“Furthermore, soon Grand Master Soton will have to return to Tarr-Ceros, most likely before the first frost, leaving behind less able commanders. His position requires that he defend the border marches, and the Grand Master is a man who takes this duty seriously. When he leaves, Soton will take all his Knights and Order Foot with him. The Ktemnoi Sacred Squares have been away from their homes for several winters; they too will soon return to Hos-Ktemnos. This will leave Prince-Regent Grythos with a much smaller and poorer army, all of which is to your advantage.
“It will be up to each of the League’s princes to determine the best strategy for his own demesne. My advice is: Stay in the mountains and other places hard to reach, raid whenever it is to your advantage, then withdraw. If Prince-Regent Grythos sends out an army, avoid any direct battles; instead send out skirmishers and outriders to kill and harass his soldiers. Your primary job is to stay alive and keep your people’s hopes burning.”
By summer’s end, Hestophes knew that every princedom in Hos-Agrys would have fallen to the Host of Styphon’s Deliverance. Many would see their largest cities and towns sacked and demolished. Their loyal nobles and village headmen would be removed and new ones answerable only to Styphon’s House would be put in their place. Soton would do his best to pull each of the League’s princes out of their hideaways so he could destroy them in detail.
Hestophes would stake both his small fortune and his reputation on it. But he would not say it out loud, for fear of angering honorable men who were caught in a trap of the Inner Circle’s creation. If the League’s princes followed his advice, they would begin a long war of attrition that might continue for many winters. If they didn’t follow it, they were doomed and Hos-Agrys would be ruled by Styphon’s House.
FIFTY
I
The sack of Zcynos City had taken almost a moon half and Grand Master Soton was greatly displeased. Unlike the Zcynosi border tarrs and towns, which had s
ued for terms as soon as the Host of Styphon’s Deliverance appeared before the town gates, the City had fought tooth and talon against the Host. Of course, Zcynos City was the seat of Prince Bosphros’ rule and might have been expected to make some kind of a showing before surrendering. Instead, its people acted as if the Styphoni were demons set loose from Regwarn’s Caverns.
More of the Investigator Roxthar’s work, Soton suspected. Even though there had been no threat of Investigation, word of Archpriest Roxthar’s questioning and murders had turned an easy conquest into a quagmire of village to village and house to house warfare.
In retaliation, he had allowed the Host to “sack the City as you will.” They had taken to his orders with great enthusiasm. Yesterday, the slave traders had come in their schooners from Thebra City for more rowers as well as for slaves to sell in Hos-Ktemnos for picking cotton or working in the mines. Some might even end up in Hos-Bletha in the sugar cane fields, once that kingdoms’ fractious wars came to an end.
Soton was comfortably ensconced in his temporary headquarters, the manor of a deceased Agrysi baron. Still, he was on edge because he was needed back in Tarr-Ceros. Will the Order’s forts be able to halt the advance of Var-Wannax Ranjar Sargos, if he once again crosses the Great River with his barbarian hordes from the Sea of Grass?
A knock at the door broke into his thoughts. Not more guild masters and city notables begging him to end the sack. If they had surrendered the Zcynos City, as he had demanded, the Host would already be gone.
“Come in,” he called.
It was Horse Master Sarmoth. “Grand Master, I have a courier who just arrived with urgent news.”
What now? More demands from the Inner Circle, or has Roxthar returned?
“Bring him to me.”
“Yes, sir.”
He returned shortly with a short man, wearing buckskins and the coonskin cap of a trapper. The man removed his cap and bowed. “Your Excellency, I have news of a big army nearby.”
Soton shot straight up. “Army, you say. Is it the League of Dralm’s Army?” If Kalvan had reinforced the League with his entire army, he might be facing a foe that could keep him pinned down here for moons.
“No, sire. We spotted them on the Mare Road four days ago. The flags and banners were Harphaxi. We managed to capture one of their scouts and he volunteered that they were from Greater Beshta and that the army was commanded by Captain-General Phidestros.
Phidestros! What is he doing here in Hos-Agrys in the middle of a war? And why now?
“Did he tell you where they were headed?”
“Yes, sir. He said they were going to pass through Arbelon, following the Marnos River, up to Kelos to join up with Great King Eudocles.”
Phidestros was joining forces with his father! From everything Styphon’s House’s intelligencers had uncovered, the two men hated each other. However, they might be poised to join forces for a larger goal—say, the defeat of the Host and the takeover of all of Hos-Agrys, which that would allow. The lure of land, power and riches had joined together even stranger bedfellows, and these two were bound by blood.
“Did the scout give you any information concerning why Phidestros has entered Hos-Agrys?”
“Yes, it seems that he is determined to punish his father for the death of Sopharar, the true Great King. It was said that he will seat himself upon the Ivory Throne after his father is dispatched.”
With a veteran army the size of Prince Phidestros’ that will be no difficult matter. The Kingdom of Hos-Zygros would be hard-pressed to muster ten thousand soldiers. He must know I’m here: did he do this now to tug on my beard, knowing that the Host would be fully occupied in conquering Hos-Agrys? Or is it just a ruse to throw us off his real plans?
“Is there any more?”
“No, Your Excellency. The scout was a man of no importance and was just reporting baggage train gossip. Oh, that reminds me. The baggage train is many times larger than the army and includes families, guildsmen and craftsmen.”
“Sarmoth, give the man ten silvers, no—make it twenty. This is important news.”
The scout left licking his lips.
In his mind, he’s probably already spent it all at some grogshop or bordello. When his aide returned, Soton asked, “What do you think the Bastard Prince is up to?”
Sarmoth furrowed his brows. “If he was planning anything hostile, Phidestros would have kept a better lookout for scouts. In this case, I believe the baggage train gossip is probably true, as far as it goes. I think he wants us to know that he has no designs on us or Hos-Agrys—for the nonce. The Prince should find his father’s army easy work, after the Battle of Ardros Field. Nor should he have a problem gaining the Ivory Throne; there is no prince in the kingdom with the arms or men to oppose him. In fact, many may welcome him as an antidote to his father, the regicide and fratricide. What he will do after he is enthroned, that is the question.”
Soton nodded. “A most cogent analysis, although based on limited intelligence. In this case, it matches my own. Sarmoth, you’ve learned well. When we return to Tarr-Ceros I will see you promoted to Commander.”
“Thank you, sir. I hope that I will be able to remain as your aide, even after my promotion. I still have much to learn.”
“For a time. Soon, though, it will be time for you to lead your own Lance. We have lost a lot of good men in the last several winters. But not until things have shaken out here and we’ve had a chance to catch our breath back in Tarr-Ceros.”
Phidestros’ move into Hos-Zygros disturbed him greatly. Styphon’s Voice had turned a valuable ally, through the kidnapping and ransom of his wife, into a possible enemy. Even during the best of times, Prince Phidestros was difficult to read and his loyalties uncertain. Ambitious, yes, a strong military leader, yes, loyal—to himself, that was for sure. Anything else was conjecture. But just how ambitious was he really?
Great King of Hos-Zygros! That was unexpected, especially since Phidestros had his hand cupped around the Iron Throne of Hos-Harphax. Why didn’t he just declare himself Great King of Hos-Harphax, instead of seating his ally and captain, Geblon? True, Phidestros was not of Harphaxi blood, nor did he have any lineage to their royalty. But such things could be manufactured by one as ruthless and bloody-minded as the Bastard Prince.
Maybe it was all about his father, Eudocles, who had never acknowledged his by-blow. Could things have turned out differently, if he had? This is just woolgathering, he decided.
The question was, what was he going to do about it? Or could he do anything about it? Maybe that was the real question.
Soton had over fifty thousand soldiers under his command. Many veterans of the Fireseed Wars and stalwart troops, but he also had many green soldiers and Agrysi allies who could not be depended upon, either as soldiers or as allies in bad weather. If he were to attack Phidestros’ army, he might not win. But, even if he did win, he would have to spend the rest of the fighting season hunting down Phidestros’ men. He might even have to venture into Hos-Harphax to battle Phidestros’ allies, which included the Great King of Hos-Harphax, in the event that the Prince evaded capture. It could easily turn into a quagmire, in many ways much worse than the one he faced currently.
Here in Hos-Agrys his only opponent was the League of Dralm, a pack of squabbling princes who didn’t know their own best interest. If the Union Army had done their job, they were probably finished as an army. Still, he would have to march through each princedom of Hos-Agrys to install the Temple’s new rulers and leave enough soldiers to guarantee the peace. Which meant that by the time he was finished conquering the kingdom, his Host would have shrunken in half.
Then we will be vulnerable to Phidestros army….
He was going to have to leave Prince-Regent Grythos more than just a token force when he returned to the Sastragath. With Hos-Agrys stretched between Hos-Harphax and Hos-Zygros, the kingdom would prove a most tempting morsel for the Bastard Prince.
“Sarmoth, bring me some fresh vellum.
I have a message to write for Styphon’s Voice. Anaxthenes needs to know of Prince Phidestros’ change of course. Maybe he can tell which way the winds are blowing.”
II
Great King Eudocles was riding his charger at the front of the van and was having an excellent day. So far, the war against Kelos was going very well; they hadn’t even had to besiege Tyrax Town, since the inhabitants had surrendered the town before the first shot was fired. With Prince Bosphros off in Eubros with the League of Dralm and most of the princedom’s soldiers, they’d only had a small garrison to man the walls. The stone walls were stout, as they were with most border towns, but they hadn’t been well maintained. Too many years of peace, he suspected. They wouldn’t have held his army in check for more than a few days.
He was disappointed that the town fathers had given up so quickly. By Yirtta’s teats, there went my excuse for sacking the town and taking slaves. Instead, he’d had to settle for a hundred thousand ounces of silver and a basket full of jewels and rare statuary. I must be getting soft; I let them bribe me to leave without looting the place to the rafters!
The good news was that not all of the major towns would capitulate quite so easily. In fact, Eudocles expected some real opposition when they reached Kelos Town in two days time.
He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, bringing a look of consternation from Duke Sestembar.
“Is everything all right, Your Highness?” Duke Sestembar asked.
“Yes, I’m finally doing what I’ve always wanted to do. And I am, at long last, seated on the Ivory Throne. Things could not be much better!”
The Duke made his usual oily smile.
“And I couldn’t have done it without my loyal henchman.”
This got the Duke’s complete attention.
“What’s the use of all this power and position, if you can’t reward your friends? Duke, how would you like to be the next Prince of Kelos?”