by P J Berman
She thought about how kind Ridenna and Avaresae had been to her over the past few days. Yes, it was their job, but it had to be said that these two maids, professionally dressed in their nicely cut blue dresses and full of positivity, were the perfect pair to look after someone who has recently had a difficult experience. Ridenna’s calm and collected manner could put anyone at their ease and who could fail to love the endearing blonde Avaresae, whose apparent only goal in life was to assist and please others?
Silrith had ordered for her breakfast to be brought to her room that day because there would be no time for her to dine with Yathrud and the others before joining the soldiers. Soon Avaresae appeared with a platter of fried bread, cheese, sweetmeats and a cup of water. This was partially there to distract from the less than desirable flavour of what else she had been presented with; a paste made up of bitter almonds and fried eel, specifically designed to cure hangovers.
Silrith knew that if there was one thing worse than consuming this sickening concoction, it was the thought of doing physical exercise while feeling ill. She forced herself to take a spoonful of the paste, then quickly shoved it into her mouth, pulled a disdainful face as she chewed, then swallowed, before overriding the taste with some bread and cheese.
Supposedly it would take effect over the course of the next hour or so. In the corner of her eye, she saw the two maids watching, amused.
‘I don’t know what you two think is so funny. Do you enjoy watching your Queen suffer?’ she chided them with a laugh.
‘Oh no of course not my Queen,’ they exclaimed in such harmony that all three of them descended into a fit of the giggles.
The day is getting better already, Silrith thought happily.
When she had finished eating, she asked for her armour and weapons to be brought up to her. Ridenna went to fetch them.
When she returned with her cargo, she brought with her a young male servant from the armoury to help her carry it, but quickly sent him away. Unlike Ridenna, Avaresae hadn’t seen what Silrith would be wearing and carrying until that moment and she could barely hide her interest. They helped Silrith get dressed into her chain mail, over which she put on a black tunic and brown padded trousers, before putting on her large black boots. Over the tunic, she added a thick brown leather weapons belt.
Avaresae looked particularly impressed by the sword. It was a single-handed one, but still fairly large, though surprisingly light in weight. This meant that it probably wasn’t as durable as some blades were, but it increased agility, so the weapon would be perfect for Silrith’s strong yet very slight build. It had been given a good polish in the past day or so and Avaresae admired the sheen on the metal as she held it for a moment; her reflection clear and bright.
‘Oh, my Queen! It’s beautiful. Did it belong to Lord Yathrud or one of his ancestors?’ Avaresae said. Silrith laughed.
‘My uncle doesn’t even know I’m doing this yet. Make sure someone tells him not to expect me at breakfast. No, I doubt anyone important has used this sword. Look at the grip. It’s nothing special,’ she indicated. It was nicely covered with leather, but had no real decoration on it, whereas some included very ornate metal designs. ‘You’ll notice that I have customised it though. I’ve had the symbol of my family, the Stallion of Alfwyn, added to it. It may be the case now that nobody significant has used this sword, but with any luck, that’s something we can change.’ She showed Avaresae and Ridenna the engraving of a stallion on the end of the pommel.
Suddenly Avaresae gasped as something else seemed to catch her attention. There was also a dagger, as well as a large, round, wooden shield. The latter was painted green, with the white stallion of the Alfwyn family depicted on it, just like the sword, in accordance with Silrith’s orders. What had caught Avaresae’s attention though was the gleaming metal helmet.
It featured long cheek guards and was a shining silver, save for the highly decorated golden nasal guard, the upper section of which was sculpted into two pairs of small horns to give the wearer a more menacing look; one pair just above the eyes, the other mounted higher, just above the forehead. This was attached at the back to the helmet’s silver dome.
Silrith picked it up and smiled as she watched the reactions of the girls as she put it on and tightly fitted the buckle under her chin.
‘How do I look?’ she asked, slightly tongue-in-cheek, pretending to pose a little. ‘May I have a mirror?’
Quickly Ridenna fetched her one and Silrith was pleased with the overall effect as she inspected her reflection. Meanwhile, the two maids had tightened her weapons belt so that it securely fitted her waist, with the sword safely returned to its scabbard and the dagger tucked into her belt.
‘I like the flash of gold,’ said Silrith. ‘It gives a sense of authority without being overbearing, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Oh yes, my Queen. Nobody will dare question you in this,’ Avaresae gushed, causing Silrith to chuckle.
She handed back the mirror, closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. This was what she was now. This was what she was going to have to be. A warrior; a commander. This was the only way she could control her destiny. To fight.
Ending her private moment, she opened her eyes and took her shield in her left hand as it was passed to her. The maids had only known her since she arrived at Preddaburg but they could evidently tell by her face that her mood had turned serious now.
‘Good luck my Queen’, they both said subserviently, yet with much sincerity, as they curtsied.
‘Thank you both.’ With that, she turned and left.
Chapter 12
After she left the Alyredd house, Silrith soon sighted Gasbron. He was instantly recognisable with his black and white transverse horsehair crest atop his Invicturion’s helmet. He was standing at the head of his unit in the soldiers’ training area briefing his troops. There were five hundred troops here in all and they filled the square of the training area. They would be on foot for this exercise. Corpralis Candoc, with his bushy orange beard and a single, small metal crest running front to back on his helmet, stood beside Gasbron and at the front of the unit was the Standard Bearer. The standard itself was of the Alyredd family, with the three golden dragons on a scarlet background and above that was the numeral for the number one, painted gold but presumably carved from the wood of the pole. The number, of course, denoted that this was the prime Divisio of the province.
‘Just perfect, it’s starting to rain,’ Silrith cursed to herself under her breath. As she had expected there were a few surprised faces amongst the soldiers as she strode into view in full fighting gear. She took off her helmet and bowed her head respectfully to her troops.
‘Company! Atten-tion!’ Gasbron bellowed when he saw her approach. Unlike the others, he was expecting her, having been told by Silrith the previous day that she would be joining them whether he liked it or not. He turned on his heel to face her. All present snapped a salute as they were joined by their new leader.
‘Thank you Chief Invicturion Wrathun. At ease.’
Gasbron turned on his heel and addressed his soldiers.
‘Company! At-ease!’
‘Right,’ Gasbron continued in the relaxed tone that he had been speaking in previously, as the pattering of rain began to grow harder. ‘As you all can see, we have an honoured visitor joining us for today’s exercise. The session our Queen has decided to join us for on this fine morning is a nice little six-mile jog around the city walls and she will also be joining us for later training sessions as well.’ She was sure he wouldn’t admit it, but Silrith knew she was beginning to win Gasbron over a little with regards to her physical abilities. She had to show that she was as tough as any of them.
Though this was the first time she would train alongside the soldiers as a group, he had spent much of the previous morning giving her some personal tuition in sword fighting and while her technique needed some work, it was clear to Silrith that her agility, tenacity and ingenuity had impressed him
greatly. She had recovered very quickly from her recent physical ordeal. She’d also made it clear to him that she was much fitter and stronger than she felt he’d previously given her credit for.
‘We will be turning left out of the Preddaburg Gate,’ Gasbron continued. ‘Then we will head down towards the West Gate, then the Port Gate, then heading north away from the port, into the forest for a while, past the East Gate, then returning here. The Queen and I will be at the front, while Corpralis Candoc will be at the back, so everyone stay in formation.’
He took a moment to let his words sink in.
‘Right, let’s do this,’ he said.
He spun on his heel to face away from his troops, while Candoc marched to the back of the formation.
‘Company! Atten-tion!’ Gasbron barked once Candoc was in position and five hundred feet stamped down on the stone floor. Looking at them, Silrith could see why these Divisiomen had to be the fittest in the army. Even cavalry units like this one had to perform as an infantry unit on occasion, as would be the case now. Jogging in full armour looked incredibly difficult, considering the combined weight of the large helmet, the metal plates covering the chest, back and shoulders, the chain mail, the weapons and of course that very heavy looking rectangular shield. Silrith could remember Gasbron saying that they would fight with round ones when on horseback, with the rectangular ones strapped to their back in case they were needed. Silrith could imagine that it was one thing to carry these shields on one’s back and quite another to run with it, with nothing more than one’s arm to take the weight.
She felt grateful for the relative lightness of her own circular shield and of the extra agility that her more lightweight kit gave her, although even that was heavy enough. She realised that this made it all the more important that she completed the session with apparent ease, no matter what the conditions were like and no matter how tired she felt at the end.
Replacing her helmet, she got into position alongside and slightly behind Gasbron so that she could follow his lead and in a moment they were off, through the inner ward, then jogging through the maze that filled the majority of citadel’s outer ward, through the open archway into the walled courtyard by the Preddaburg Gate and then exiting under the lifted portcullis and out of the citadel into the fields beyond. It took her a moment to get used to running in the helmet. It wasn’t just its weight, but the impaired vision, even though it was less enclosed than some. There was also the constant feeling of claustrophobia that she assumed is always felt by someone who is not used to wearing one. Frustratingly, it seemed to start raining even harder once they had started and Silrith had to keep blinking to try and remove the water from her eyes, as it was hard to do it by hand with the helmet on.
After the first mile or so things were becoming more difficult. The shield seemed to become heavier in Silrith’s left hand, the helmet’s chin strap was starting to dig into her neck and the constant rain was saturating her leather tunic, weighing her down, while the ground underfoot was becoming a complete quagmire. The result of this was that the pace was fairly slow, but the energy involved didn’t reflect this.
Even so, the pressure to perform and to comfortably match the Divisiomen in every way forced every last once of adrenaline through her veins, pushing her forward.
As they splashed past the West Gate, for the first time since her arrival she got a proper view of Rildayorda Port. When she had been there before, it had been home to a few merchant vessels, but now it was teeming with boats, as Yathrud had prohibited any trade ships from leaving, save for the one carrying her letter. Most noticeable were Shappa’s ten longships. These ships were larger and wider than many of the other ships, sporting a singular sail and they hung low in the water with their shallow hulls, which made them fast and able to sail up rivers that other vessels of their size couldn’t.
They had an imposing look about them, Silrith decided, taking one last look as they turned north again. Once they had returned, Silrith had barely a moment to catch her breath before she heard someone calling her.
‘Your Grace.’ Blavak, the Hentani Chief’s interpreter, appeared with a scroll of parchment in his hand, followed by Chief Hojorak himself. ‘Your Grace, my master wishes to report grave news.’ Blavak looked a little flustered.
‘Speak then,’ Silrith replied, immediately concerned.
‘My master previously sent scouts and spies north before we arrived here at Rildayorda. Two of them returned today saying that near Zikaena they intercepted a rider carrying an anonymous letter heading for Kriganheim.’
‘Let me read it.’ Silrith took it from Blavak and read the rest herself. Whoever the writer was, they knew Yathrud had taken her in. The letter implored Jostan to ride south and take the citadel and the city by force before she starts a full-scale rebellion.
‘Did they manage to question the rider?’
‘No, he could not be taken alive, so the scouts say.’
Silrith cursed to herself under her breath.
‘There’s more,’ stated Blavak, regaining her attention. ‘When the scouts caught the rider, they were already heading south with news that our spies in the city of Ganust told them. Some traders from Celrun spoke of an army they had witnessed heading for the Forest of Ustaherta. Our spies tried to find out numbers but the estimates ranged hugely from a few hundred to many thousands.’
‘So, it starts today then and already we have a gamble to take.’ She turned to Gasbron, who had heard the conversation and come to stand alongside her.
‘We already knew Jostan would be heading south for his Hentani campaign. But it’s a surprise that he’s moved so soon,’ Gasbron pondered.
‘Yes,’ said Silrith. ‘And it won’t have gone unnoticed that my uncle has sent no troops north, but with luck, Jostan may simply send a representative here to see what’s going on. He may already know of my presence, or he may be marching on your people, Chief Hojorak, as he seems to have originally planned.’
Blavak translated and Hojorak said something in Hentani. Blavak listened carefully before turning back to Silrith.
‘My master says that due to the number of warriors that we have brought to Rildayorda, the number left behind would not be enough to protect our civilians if the Bennvikan city garrisons of Lithrofed and Intei defect to King Jostan and turn their swords on our people. If the King is as yet unaware of your presence and plans to pass us by he will have no difficulty in burning our towns and villages and slaughtering our people by the thousand. You cannot expect us simply to stand by and allow our families to suffer such a fate.’
‘No,’ Silrith sighed and shook her head. ‘No, I cannot. Nor do I have any intention of doing so. We must send a small, fast-moving force north to meet him to catch him by surprise. We cannot hope to make him retreat, but maybe he can be stalled, or we can draw him on to us here, where we can mount a proper defence and stop his army from destroying your tribe. I never approved of what Bennvika has done to the Hentani in the past. I loved my father but what he let his soldiers do to your people was a disgrace, especially when he didn’t have my uncle by his side to advise him. I will not let it happen again.’
Silrith was well aware that King Lissoll’s later campaigns against the Hentani had been rather different from his earlier ones. The main difference was that Yathrud was no longer with him. Having assisted in the subjugation of the eastern half of the Hentani Kingdom, Yathrud stayed behind to oversee their assimilation into Bennvikan culture. In that time Yathrud had built Preddaburg, as well as the Great Temple, dedicated to both the Bennvikan Goddess Lomatteva and the Hentani Goddess Bertakaevey, while making regular visits into the streets of the newly renamed city of Rildayorda to try to win hearts and minds. All this played a huge part in the Hentani’s territory becoming Bennvika’s new province of Bastalf.
Lissoll however, without Yathrud to assist him, had become more and more brutal towards the Hentani in the west and so they resisted him more and more. When the major Hentani strongholds of Lit
hrofed and Intei had eventually fallen to Bennvika it had been catastrophic for the tribesmen and the streets had run with blood. Even now, almost twenty years later, with Lithrofed and Intei rebuilt in the form of Bennvikan cities, the Hentani still licked their wounds. If she was to keep them on her side, Silrith had to make sure that they were in no doubt that Bennvika had changed.
Blavak translated Silrith’s words to Hojorak before the Chief spoke again.
‘My master says that he volunteers to take his warriors north with Prince Kivojo to meet the enemy in the Forest of Ustaherta, where we can ambush them. He would consider it an honour if one of your nobles could accompany him for such a task.’
‘One of my nobles? So not me then?’ Silrith said.
Blavak’s face creased into a confused expression.
‘I think he meant a man, your Grace. Your presence would risk the whole operation.’
‘What? You call me your Grace with one breath and then insult me with the next?’
‘I think what he is trying to say is that you are too valuable to be risked at this early stage,’ Gasbron pitched in.
‘I see,’ Silrith responded, curling her lip in contempt, not believing a word of it. She tried to remind herself of her previous diplomatic thoughts. ‘Well,’ she went on, ‘I suppose all that remains is to decide who goes in my stead.’
‘I’ll go.’
They all turned round in surprise to see who had spoken.
‘Cousin Bezekarl. I didn’t see you lurking there,’ Silrith exclaimed, her mood brightening again.
‘I’m sorry, my Queen, err, I just couldn’t help overhearing.’