Elizabeth of Starland (The Colplatschki Chronicles Book 1)

by Alma Boykin

  “Very refreshing, your grace.”

  “Before we start discussing the current situation, Elizabeth, you need to go to the armorer tomorrow so he can fit you with a cuirass and back plate, and armored boots and arm guards. If you are going to learn the arts of war, you are going to ride out with me, to learn the land and the language. I know you can defend yourself, but armor will help.” He grinned, adding, “Nothing like in the painting over there.”

  “Good, your grace, because she looks very cold,” Elizabeth replied. Wear armor on bare skin, cut like a stomacher? Her breasts shrank at the very thought.

  “Now,” he pulled her attention back. “Here is what we face…”

  Chapter 5: Riding and Raids

  “These are the Empire’s official boundaries.” Aquila spread a large hand over the map. “These are the problems. Here is the capitol,” and he tapped Vindobona, on the curve of the Donau Novi River.

  Elizabeth already knew about the contested land in the west, on the northern edge of the Triangle Mountains. The Babenburgs claimed the land by inheritance, since they came from that area, but Laurence the IV had claimed them by his grandfather’s marriage to a distant cousin of the Babenburgs. That Frankonia showed no interest in the lands until the discovery of deposits of sulfur and coal had no bearing on the Frankonian claims, of course. But the northern and eastern border, that was different. “Ah, your grace, I thought the Turkowi raiders were active here.” She tapped the southern part of the empire and the Tivola lowlands with a metal rod.

  “They are, and I expect to hear about an army coming through the pass at Peili any day.” Capt. Destefani shook his head at the thought as Aquila pointed. “But you forget that the center of Turkowi power is here,” he pointed to the grasslands east of the Tongue Sea and Dividing Range. “Matthew, tell me about the history of the Turkowi, from the arrival of the priests of Selkow.”

  The young man took a deep breath. “The worship of Selkow began, nah, no one knows when it began because none of us have seen the records of that part of the world and lived to tell the tale. Two hundred years or so ago, the first rumors began, not long after the creation of a single inter-tribal government among the horse nomads in this area,” he pointed to the grasslands far to the east of the Dividing Range. “Then the grain shipments from that area stopped and people, farmers, began fleeing west through the Dividing Range with stories of massacres and raids.”

  “Did anyone investigate the rumors, my lord?” Elizabeth wondered.

  “No. That required manpower no one had at the time. The Babenburgs had just put an end to the last of the Colour Wars and, according to the records,” Matthew stopped, giving his father a questioning look.

  “Stay with the records,” Aquila told him.

  He nodded. “According to the records, the people were too concerned with reclaiming the land along the Donau Novi and expanding the food supply to do more than make note of the rumors of war. Then, a hundred years ago, the first raid came, from between the Sea and the mountains.” Elizabeth nodded as Matthew swept his pointer around the northern end of the range, through the low gap between the long inlet of the Ocean of Storms, called the Tongue Sea, and the Dividing Range. That’s the route she would take if she did not have a way to cross the Tongue Sea and outflank the defenses that she assumed were already there. “Most of the raids ended in failure. But that is when people first noticed that the Turkowi had started killing all the women they could not carry off. Pursuits and scouting forays discovered that they’d killed the women they did capture, as well.” The men turned to Elizabeth.

  “Because Selkow is a jealous goddess who tolerates no female to be her rival, except those born into her worship. Or so it is said. Which is why pregnant women try to move away from the borders, even in Frankonia.”

  Destefani blinked. “Even in Frankonia? I thought Laurence’s agreements kept the Selkowi out of the borders.”

  She shook her head. “They do, but not if a priest decides to call a ferengrazia. And the Rajtan, being new, will not try and stop the priests. I doubt that he can, truth be told. The Sisters of Service established four delivery houses for women who wanted to be well inside the borders. Laurence IV encouraged donations to those houses,” she added, raising one eyebrow.

  Aquila and Destefani exchanged worried looks but kept silent. Matthew continued, “The Babenburgs managed to beat off the raids, but they also pulled back the pioneers that had been moving into the hills between the sea and the mountains. It appeared that the Turkowi had given up, because several decades passed before the next raid. And that was here,” he pointed to the southern end of the range. “We, that is, the Empire, underestimated the Protectorate and the priests.”

  “Indeed. And we thought that we westerners were the only ones to have rediscovered explosives and gunpowder,” Aquila sighed. “I suspect the Turkowi also have artillery of some kind, just as we do now that we can cast and bore large pieces again.” He pulled a second map out of the pile. “And that is how they came through the mountains. They took their time, blasting and even paving a three-season road through the Keeshon Valley. Up to this year, the raids always stopped after the first snows.”

  “That road lets them come and go with ease. Or it did at first, since no one expected any sort of attack, despite warnings from foresters and hunters that something was going on in the mountains,” Destefani said, looking gloomy. “We lost thousands in your grace’s grandfather’s day, if the records were correct.”

  “Which I doubt they were, since the governors tend to inflate population just as they undercount harvest for taxes,” Aquila snorted. “But we still lost far too many people. Which brings us to today, Lady Elizabeth, or rather to early summer, shortly before you arrived. The Rajtan, Tayyip the Invincible, sent a message to his Majesty Emperor Rudolph, inviting him to convert and worship Selkow, or leave, or die.” Aquila rubbed the back of his neck as he straightened up from the maps. “I understand that his majesty’s reply was firm.”

  Matthew ran a hand through his hair. “He’s the guardian of the relics of St. Gerald and protector of the last Lander wisdom and archives, Father, so how could he convert?”

  “He couldn’t. Not without killing his wife, sisters, and two daughters,” Aquila snapped.

  Elizabeth looked at the maps and felt a cold chill. If they take only male prisoners, and kill captive women after giving birth, how do the Turkowi keep their population up? Even if every Turkowi woman had six children and all lived to adulthood, the numbers… Could they have Lander reproductive technology? Surely not. She shivered and hugged herself. It was such abominations that had brought down the Fires, or so Sr. Amalthea always said.

  “So, Tayyip intends to prove his name by conquering us,” Aquila stated. “And plans to do it how?”

  Matthew answered, “Until two years ago, everyone thought it would be by increased raiding, with larger bands and heavier armament, trying to bleed us to death slowly. Then a few traders and refugees brought rumors of an army.”

  “And two months ago the rumors proved true, my lord, when we captured correspondence between Laurence V and Tayyip,” Destefani added

  “His majesty Laurence V is an idiot if he thinks he can play the Turkowi off the Empire without being raided himself,” Elizabeth snapped. “But then he is young and impulsive, and probably thinks his father did the same thing so he could do it too.”

  “You would know better than we do, Lady Elizabeth,” Aquila reminded her. He pulled yet another map out of the pile, this one of Starland and of the lands surrounding the province’s borders. “Here are the latest raids.” He set bits of red glass down at four points, including one in the Hunter Hills. “Pattern?”

  Elizabeth studied the map, as did Matthew. “They are all along water?” The young man guessed.

  That did not seem right to Elizabeth. “They are, my lord, but,” she stuck her tongue out as she thought hard. “Except for the Hunter Hills, they are all in the grain belt, in the flat
lands that funnel… Are these scouts and subsistence raids to prepare the way for the main army to come through after spring planting? The army could march from here,” she pointed off the map’s edge, “and drive the population to the north, trapping them against the Donau Novi or the Dividing Range, or even these hills here, and have crops to see them through the summer and fall already in the ground. If these are hills?”

  “Those are marshes. The land slopes down, into a basin,” Destefani corrected. “She’s fast, your grace.”

  “Duke Grantholm, the acting commander of the Imperial Forces, thinks they are feints and that the main army would come over the north, but that is a very good guess, Elizabeth.” Aquila smiled. “And you are also right, Matthew, but the raids could be coincidence at this point. We need to know more about other raids, which is one reason to go to Vindobona and court, so all of us can pool our knowledge.” He looked off into the distance before turning to Elizabeth. “Do not make patterns where there are none. Four raids are not enough for us to determine anything, especially with the presence of Selkow priests.”

  “Yes, your grace,” she murmured, embarrassed by her failure.

  Aquila stepped back from the table. “That’s enough for the moment. Elizabeth, go get measured for armor, then meet me, on horseback, in the courtyard after the noon meal. And put up these maps. Matthew, show Elizabeth where they go, find that history of Starland for her to read, and then go see what your mother wants. You’re coming out with me this afternoon as well, unless your lady mother has more pressing plans.”

  Matthew grumbled but complied.

  Elizabeth was also grumbling by the time she finished getting measured for armor. Godown be praised that a cuirass is not anatomically correct, she fumed as she dressed to ride astride. She’d need padding to go under the armor, which meant she’d need to devise a different sort of breast support. Thank you, St. Philomela, that I do not take after my mother! Olympia von Sarmas boasted a most magnificent endowment, one that had gained her first spouse and then lovers. Elizabeth preferred her own less stunning superstructure, especially now, as she thought about taking a hard blow to the chest. Ow, ow, ow, I think I am going to be glad that breasts are less sensitive than ‘jewels’. She did not like the way some of the smith’s apprentices looked at her, either. Well, they’d not said anything, just looked, so she would ignore the behavior for the nonce.

  The ride proved educational. Snow squalls blew through the lowlands and plain, pelting Matthew, Aquila, and Elizabeth with stinging bits of ice. Elizabeth made herself ignore the discomfort just as she ignored her knees when she prayed or the itch from the rough fabric of her neck wrap. “Have you named your horse yet?” Matthew inquired.

  She glanced down at the mouse-colored gelding. “Brown, my lord.”

  “Brown? I’d think you’d pick something more, I don’t know, like ‘Sweetie’ or ‘Lightfoot’.”

  “He’s brownish grey, so why not Brown, my lord? Horses are somewhat interchangeable.” Snowy was, of course, a magnificent exception on all counts.

  Aquila stopped, gesturing for the two younger riders to draw abreast of him. “Can you see the river?”

  Elizabeth peered through the snow. “Yes, my lord. The dark strip, just this side of a darker strip with a break in it?”

  “Yes. What do you not see?”

  “Trees, father,” Matthew chimed in. “At least, trees on this bank, because they’ve been cut down for better visibility.”

  “Close. There never were many large trees because of the fires on this side of the river. Elizabeth, we still burn the grass in some pastures, but not often and only under certain conditions.”

  As they set off again, she asked, “Your grace, would not burning the pastures behind you be an effective technique to deter pursuit?”

  “Yes, it is, if the wind and your direction of flight are favorable. That book that Matthew found for you has a chapter on the dangers of grassfires, and how a large fire changed the inheritance line several generations ago.”

  Elizabeth did not like the sound of that. Brown the horse did not care for snow and he shook his head, throwing it back and almost bashing her in the face. “Your grace, might I ride ahead a little way?”

  “Yes, and be careful. He does not have caulks on his shoes, does he?”

  “Not yet, your grace, and I will be careful,” she promised. At Aquila’s nod she touched Brown with her heels and the gelding lurched forward, regained his footing, and trotted off, still shaking his head. She rode with one eye on the road ahead and another on the terrain and settlements around the road. It felt and looked as if the road rose slightly, tracking up the slope of a long, gentle hill. Or did it? Elizabeth squinted again, trying to separate the snow-covered ground from the white-grey snow clouds. Brown’s pace slowed as he crested the low ridge and Elizabeth stopped him. She’d seen a Lander ruin.

  She turned Brown to the ruin, mindful of danger under the knee-deep snow off the well-trod road. But the surface remained firm. She stopped, looking at the sharp edged walls and empty doorway.

  “There’s nothing of value left,” Matthew called. He and Aquila rode up beside her. “My ancestors stripped it of everything useful or decorative.”

  “Why not turn it into an observation or way station, my lord, since the walls are intact?”

  Matthew’s eyes went wide and he backed his horse a pace. “Ugh! Spend the night in a Lander ruin? That’s madness.”

  “It is better than freezing to death, my lord,” she opined. “And no one ever bothers you.”

  “You’ve slept in Lander ruins?” He retreated farther, only to lunge forward in the saddle as his mare lost her footing in the rear and sat abruptly.

  Aquila waited until Matthew had the mare on her feet, under control, and calm before telling him, “I’ve slept in Lander ruins. You sleep on Lander work every night that you spend in Starheart, Matthew.”

  “So the walls are Lander-made?” Elizabeth smiled, pleased that she’d guessed correctly.

  “Not entirely. The outer walls are Lander made, but the Great Fires interrupted the work, as best the stories say.” Aquila shrugged and turned back to the road. “Come.”

  Father and son talked quietly as Elizabeth tried to learn the landscape and memorize the routes and landmarks. She wondered why Matthew had not known that Starheart sat on Lander foundations. Wasn’t it obvious from the walls? Maybe he’d assumed that his ancestors were just that skilled with stonework. Brown jigged and Elizabeth sat more firmly, trying to settle him.

  Instead he bolted, aiming for a fence. Elizabeth kicked her stirrups loose and dove off the horse, landing and rolling in the soft snow. Brown jumped the fence, staggered, and fell, screaming. No, oh no. She scrambled to her feet and clambered over the wooden rails, hurrying to check on the gelding. He’d caught one of his hind legs in more wood and kicked, panicking. She laid down on his neck and head. “Easy, easy,” she murmured, trying to calm him.

  “Do you have his head?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Matthew dismounted, climbed over the fence, and looked at the wood. “I’ll free his leg. Keep him from bolting, if you can.”

  “Don’t try to be a hero, Elizabeth,” Aquila warned.

  She just nodded, taking a firm grip on the heavy cheekpiece of Brown’s bridle. Matthew grunted as he lifted the wood, releasing the trapped ankle and hoof. Brown flailed, rolled onto his belly, managed to get footing, and surged to his feet, dragging Elizabeth with him. A rope sailed over her head and she ducked as Aquila lassoed the horse before he could take more than a few steps. “Matthew, hold him. Elizabeth, mount.” Once she was settled, Aquila ordered, “Take the rope off, Matthew.” The young man stayed well clear of the horse, in case Brown lunged forward, but the gelding remained still. Elizabeth had to tap him with her heels to get him to take a step. He felt sound, and she walked him along the fence until they found a gate. She’d started leaning down to open the gate when Matthew called, “Come look at thi
s.”

  Someone had turned and polished the wood in the pile. Matthew and Aquila brushed the snow off as Elizabeth held their horses. Aquila frowned as they uncovered more poles and what looked like spear shafts. Matthew picked up one, looking at the wood’s grain. “Father, no one stores finished wood out like this, do they?”

  “No, especially not such carefully worked wood.” Aquila lifted one piece, sticking the butt of the shaft into the snow. “This is the size of a Turkowi banner staff. We’ve captured a few over the years.” Elizabeth and the two men exchanged grim looks. “There’s nothing we can do right now.” He climbed back over the fence and Elizabeth handed him his reins. Matthew eased his mare away from the wood and the fence both before mounting, giving Elizabeth time to open the gate. Matthew and his mare crossed through, then Brown followed, fidgeting as his rider closed the gate once more.

  The farmer who rented that land knew nothing about the poles and shafts. “No, your grace, I’ve not been out that way since three weeks past. Ax slipped when I was splitting firewood, cut my leg to the bone, and this is the first I’ve been able to get up and about. Besides, I keep my wood here, by the house. Some light-fingered folk travel the roads, not meaning any offense your grace.” Aquila just nodded as the man told him, “Leuko, across the way, might have seen something. Could be his wood. He’s left cuttings on this land before.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Wei. Just leave it where it is, in case it does belong to Leuko.” The three riders departed, turning back to the keep. Elizabeth wondered if Aquila would set up a watch post to see who came for the poles, or if he’d send someone to bring them to the keep. The hair on her neck seemed to crawl and she wanted to gallop back to the stout walls of Starhart, away from whoever left the weapons.

  Duke Aquila turned off the road to another farm. He rode into the farmyard, sending yard birds and gooi fowl clucking and blatting. A stout man emerged from the wooden farmhouse. “Your grace?” He bowed a little.