Elizabeth of Starland (The Colplatschki Chronicles Book 1)

by Alma Boykin

  “Lady Sarmas, you will find a map on the table,” Emperor Rudolph began without preamble. “Tell us what you see and how you would respond if you had command of the blue forces.”

  “Yes, your maj— you grace,” she caught herself.

  Elizabeth studied the elaborate display. The base map showed rolling terrain interrupted by an east-west flowing river and three steep hills. A castle or other defense point capped the northernmost hill. The more southerly hills faced each other across the river; the one farthest to the south held by the red forces while the blues controlled the northern point and one end of a bridge. Lander ruins extended along and up the southern flank of “her” hill. The numbers of markers seemed even, although the blue forces had more artillery and the red more cavalry. Was she defending or attacking? She caught herself sticking her tongue out and blushed. As she studied the riverbanks she noted an unfamiliar symbol. Right, she decided, since I don’t see a legend, I’m going to have to guess, and I guess that is a ford. She took a deep breath.

  Rudolph took up a position across the table from her and she began, “You grace, the first thing I would do is look into the possibility of moving mortars and a light cannon up onto the hill, concealing them in the ruins if possible. If that can be done, then under cover of darkness I would send the cavalry out, here.” She found a small rake and pulled the markers into the wooded areas to either side of the bridge. “I’d pull as much of my infantry as is safe back here, behind the hill, and spread some of the rest to the west. My heavy cavalry and a squad of rangers,” she paused. “Ah, your grace, what is your term for specially trained infantry?”

  “Wandertruppen is the formal word. Some use ‘rovers’.”

  “Thank you, your grace. I would send some heavy cavalry and the Wandertruppen east, to this point.”

  Rudolph snorted. “Night maneuvers are an invitation to disaster.”

  “They can be, yes, your grace. But with this many good landmarks, and the fires from the red encampments to show where the other side of the river is, I believe that it could be done safely with troops of the right quality.”

  He folded his arms and nodded, “Very well. Now what?” Elizabeth noticed that Aquila, Matthew, and Gerald Kazmer had joined their liege as he studied the map table.

  “As soon as it is light, my troops break camp. If the red commander takes the bait, he’ll send his forces across the bridge. At that point I have two options. I can wait until he is fully involved and attack, or I can…”

  Matthew Starland interrupted, “No you can’t. You’ve made a deathground and his troops will fight even harder.”

  “Not as long as the bridge is intact, which might not be too long, depending on where I’ve sighted my mortars, my lord.” She gave him a nasty smile, “Or if I’ve mined the bridge.”

  “And if he defeats your infantry, then what?” Rudolph leaned forward, studying the map as Elizabeth moved the pieces.

  “Then I pull back, send the cavalry to harass him, regroup for a counterattack, and bring in the heavy cavalry.” She reached over and pushed the Wandertruppen across the river and back along the south bank of the river. “And see how much of a mess I can make behind his lines.” She met the men’s eyes in turn, adding, “Assuming that I am not simply a delaying force. In that case I would begin a slow retreat by numbers, and not send the Wandertrupped behind the lines, but use them to harass red’s advance and to gather information.”

  Rudolph picked up a rake and moved the pieces back to their earlier positions. “And what if he does this?” Red pivoted and marched to the symbol that Elizabeth had guessed at. “And crosses here, at the ford? Your assets are useless.”

  “Only those that are fixed, such as the cannon and bridge guards. I already have a watch and delaying force at the ford, your grace,” she reminded him. “And with artillery sighted on the bridge, if he tries to catch me from two sides after I pivot, he’s penned himself in, based on what the map shows. And he can’t attack from the north unless he takes time to build pontoon bridges, which my scouts should have seen and reported.” She stepped back and set down her rake.

  The men looked at eachother, then back at Elizabeth. “Lady Sarmas,” Aquila asked, “what is war?”

  “War is a continuation of policy by other means, your grace.”

  Gerald Kazmer seemed to be trying to hide a smile as he inquired, “What are the grounds for waging war?”

  “My lord, they are to defend your country, to gain land, to interrupt a hostile alliance, and to assist an ally.”

  “What is a just war?” Rudolph demanded, arms folded again.

  She gulped, trying to remember, “Ah, your grace, a just war is one that is fought for self-defense, using the minimum amount of force necessary to win, with consideration for the safety of non-combatants, and that is initiated only after all other diplomatic and economic possibilities have been exhausted.” Had she left one out? She could not remember and she started panicking.

  “Is the Empire’s war with the Rajtan just?”

  Oh, crap, I, how did it start? St. Gerald, give me inspiration, please? “Your grace, based on what I have read and heard, I believe that it is, but I do not know enough to be certain.”

  Rudolph frowned. “So you don’t know.”

  “No, your grace, I do not.” She took a deep breath, making herself stay calm as the men exchanged more glances.

  “That is enough, Lady Sarmas,” Rudolph declared. He turned to Duke Starland. “You are right. She has the theories, and you say that she’s already been under fire?”

  Aquila and Matthew both nodded. “Yes, your grace, and she did better than I would have,” the elder Starland admitted. “Even if she gives her mule the credit.” The men chuckled and Elizabeth felt her face burning.

  Rudolph smiled at her discomfort. “Lady Sarmas, it has been many years since a woman has served in the imperial armies. There are good reasons for that, but only a complete fool would turn down a gift such as you seem to have the potential of being. You will have a small allowance to help you with your studies and training. When campaign season begins again, you will remain under Duke Starland’s command but as an officer with the duties and privileges so associated. Gerald, see that she gets appropriate weapons to go with her new horse.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Rudolph’s demeanor changed and the others stepped back, away from him. “Elizabeth von Sarmas, are you under any oaths or contracts that prohibit you from serving the empire and us?”

  “No, your majesty, I am not. I swore one oath to Laurence IV, and that was given under coercion. His death and the fact that it was forced negate that oath.”

  Aquila rubbed his chin as if trying to recall something. “Elizabeth, what about your vows as a postulant?”

  “They only bind me to Godown’s service, not to a monarch in the world, your grace.” She thought for a moment. “If necessary, arrangements can be made for a partial or full release, depending on what the archbishop of Vindobona feels is appropriate.”

  “She lives like a sworn sister as it is, your majesty,” Aquila chuckled.

  Rudolph studied her. “Kneel, Elizabeth.” After she settled on the floor in front of him, he asked, “Elizabeth von Sarmas, will you serve the Eastern Empire and the Babenburg family, obeying the laws of the empire, as Godown wills?”

  “I, Elizabeth von Sarmas, will serve the Eastern Empire and the Babenburg family, obeying the laws of the empire, as Godown wills.”

  “Give me your hands.”

  Her hands shook as hard as if she’d been in battle. Rudolph took them between his own.

  “I, Rudolph Babenburg, second of that name, swear to protect my servant Elizabeth, to grant her justice and to provide her shelter, as Godown wills.” Still holding her hands, he leaned forward and kissed the top of Elizabeth’s head. Then he released her and stepped back. “You may rise, Elizabeth von Sarmas. Gentlemen, let us discuss other topics.” Two servants whisked away the footstool that had been besi
de Aquila’s chair, replacing it with a proper chair for Elizabeth.

  She had no idea what she said, if anything, as the men talked about politics, someone’s heir, and the previous season’s harvest. Elizabeth did remember enough to stop after one glass of strong, rich pfort wine. She had no desire to fall off of Snowy on the way home. I can stay! Yes, I have a place to stay! And she had not made a fool of herself, or offended anyone, or made the Starlands look bad, or spilled food on her blouse. The men rejoined the ladies after another half hour or so, and then the Babenburgs dismissed their guests. Elizabeth was glad to be able to follow the Starland coach, because as dazed and exhausted as she suddenly felt, she’d never have made it back to Starland House without help. She handed Snowy to a groom, bowed to the Starlands, and somehow found her room. As she fell asleep, she realized that Lady Marie had called her “lady” instead of “miss.”

  Chapter 7: Lessons and Tests

  “I would rather fight a battle against three Sworn Acolytes while armed with a wooden spoon and riding a mare in heat than have to endure another ladies’ salon,” Elizabeth snarled under her breath. She inspected the edge of her saber and wiped the last of the sharpening grit off, rubbed a few drops of oil onto the steel, and then sheathed the sword.

  Matthew Starland had explained it to her. “The Babenburg court is very traditional, especially the women’s side. It gives them stability and something to hold on to. Rank matters to us too,” and his hand sweep took in all males, “but, at least on the military side, skill matters more. No one is going to challenge my lord father’s judgment, especially not after his majesty confirmed it. The ladies are another matter.”

  Elizabeth thought back to the previous morning’s confrontation and decided that some ladies were a different life form. She’d been excused from the morning cavalry exercises in order to attend a function hosted by Princess Aranka and Countess Lyra Margoulis in honor of Miranda von Starland’s official betrothal to Ryszard Sobieski-Pilza. Elizabeth had not attended the betrothal ceremony and several of the ladies of court had noted her absence. As a result, Lady Clarie Margoulis, Countess Pibrod, and Lady Helen Begay had taken it upon themselves to inform Elizabeth of her failure to do her proper womanly duty.

  “Countess Pibrod, my ladies, was I to attend without an invitation?” She’d protested.

  Even now Elizabeth cringed as she heard the countess’s smooth and sweet voice in her mind’s ear. “Miss Sarmas, it is unlikely in the extreme that you failed to receive an invitation. A lady never denies the pleasure of her company to her family and friends, even if she is ill-favored or indisposed.”

  Before she could reply, Elizabeth had caught Lady Helen’s sniff of, “Perhaps, my lady, it is the Frankonian upbringing.” Lady Clarie’s tittering laugh had raised Elizabeth’s hackles.

  I wonder how mother managed to navigate the Frankonian court? She probably kept a set of matching daggers in her wig and used stilettos for stays, Elizabeth mused, half-cringing, half-growling at the memories. Oh, how she’d wanted to cut the “ladies” down to size. But such would not be proper or wise, she sighed as she collected her notes and set off for another tutorial session. If she attacked the ladies, they would get back at her, either directly or through their husbands, fathers, and brothers. St. Kiara, may your light guide me out of this thicket of manners, she prayed. Blessed Kateri, lend me some of your patience.

  All thoughts of court vanished when she saw what Wisdom Lawrence, her history teacher, had found for her. “You wondered if any copies of this still existed, my child? A very few do.” He pulled the protective wrapper off an illustrated history of the Landing and Founding. “Read if you wish, and take notes if you desire, but keep your ink well clear of the book.”

  “Yes, Wisdom. Thank you,” Elizabeth murmured, setting her paper and ink on the lower level of the worktable, where a spill would not reach the priceless volume. Then she put on cloth gloves and began turning the pages. Parts of the story were as familiar as her own name: how the Colplat Corporation added certain plants, animals, and bacteria to the then unnamed planet, changing it so that humans could live here. Next came pictures of the first ships and people of Colplat XI, or Colplatshki as their descendants called it. Elizabeth stared at the pictures of the men and women and of their machines and buildings. All that metal and plaztik, exotic glass, clothes that kept the people warm without requiring multiple layers, and flying machines that Elizabeth could hardly believe had really existed.

  But they had, and now Elizabeth marveled at what the Landers’ cities and villages had looked like, and how far they spread, at least one on each of the world’s landmasses. They looked strange to her eyes. None sported protections and barriers other than walls, and even those seemed more decorative than defensive. Straight roads within the cities formed neat, orderly grids of buildings. The picture on one page in particular stopped her, and she couldn’t help but stare in amazement at all the lights dotting the world, marking the cities, the mines, and the spaceport. “Space pfort Collpflaht” she sounded out in a whisper. How much energy had it taken to light such a large area of… nothing? Maybe the legends were true, that the Landers had possessed the secret of capturing both the sun and fire in bottles, the ones that some scholars called re-actors. The people in the pictures looked healthy and happy, with perfect teeth, and Elizabeth sighed, envious. How did the women keep their men’s shining white trousers and their own skirts so clean? And even more marvelous, the old people stood up straight; no one in the pictures had the bent backs or crippling injuries Elizabeth associated with hard work and age. But the book did not reveal the Landers’ secret, and she turned the page.

  The next chapter answered a question that had puzzled her for several years. She turned a page and gasped to see a military crest. On a background of stars, silver, a spaceship, blue, rested below a pair of what had to be crossed weapons, surrounded by gold rope. Under the crest she read, “Peer hardua ahd assperah eat simper fee?” That must be their motto, she decided, but what could it mean? The next pages told her that indeed, it had been the crest of a group of soldiers who served on board space ships, fighting off pirates, Volp’gr raiders, and the Rorgil Waves. “Space mahrreenes” she breathed, amazed that people who had fought and survived for at least twenty years would then take land on a colony rather than going home. And they had brought the books of war with them, in case they might be needed: Patton and Jomini, Klellend and Pei Tsung, and of course the greatest thinker of all, Clausewitz. Godown keep their souls safe and grant them rest, Elizabeth prayed. The book warned that the Volp’gr in particular might still be raiding, so the soldiers had been encouraged to keep their arms and training current, within the limits of Colplat Corporation policy. The book ended with charts and tables in a strange language. “An-noo-ey-tee? Dee-pfree-kee-ah-tsee-uhn? Pfee ‘ee ray-tsee-oh?” She closed the book, amazed that it had survived and that Rudolph trusted her enough to read it.

  Because the ancient volume contained nothing less than heresy, or so some believed. The Landers in the book bore no resemblance to the depraved, sinful monsters of St. Mou’s followers’ sermons. Colplatshki had not been settled by saints, but neither had it been a prison planet or a nest of heinous sinners. Elizabeth stared into the distance, trying to imagine what it would be like to travel the stars and visit other worlds, wherever they were.

  “Finished?” She turned to see Wisdom Lawrence standing beside her, holding another, smaller but thicker bundle.

  “Yes, Wisdom. It is a fascinating tale.”

  The bald man nodded, his expression sad. “That it is, and one that theologians still debate. Were the Landers guilty of arrogance, turning too much to their own powers and away from Godown’s wisdom? Did Godown permit the Fires in order to turn them back to the true way before they damned themselves beyond even His salvation? Or were the Fires always present around Colplatshki, part of Godown’s creation just as we are? It is a hard question. Perhaps you might find an answer here.” He set down the bund
le, unwrapping another book. He opened it and turned several pages, then pointed. “Begin here. The earlier pages are a list of dead cities, nothing of great interest to you just now.”

  “Yes, Wisdom,” she murmured, straining to read the faded print of one of the last books printed before the Long Silence. The writer spoke of the Great Fires, except he, or perhaps she, called them “ah-roar-ahs.” At first the bright, dancing lights had looked no different than earlier sky fires. But then, one fatal day, the sky turned red as far south as the Belt Sea. As bright as the sun, the flames danced without burning any living thing. But all the precious technology failed. Or perhaps not all, Elizabeth read, but during the next winter, the Fires returned, ruining more machines and interrupting life. One of the worst losses came with the failure of the mechanical harvesters, giant machines that planted and then reaped the grain. The Landers sent to Colplat for help, requesting parts and food.

  No help ever came. The author wondered why the colonists’ requests went unanswered. The remaining equipment, overused, wore out and could not be repaired without parts made by other machines that no longer functioned, using plans that could not be “ak-sess-ed.” People died from hunger and cold, from a lack of medical care, and at the hands of their fellow men and women. Many people gave up and quit trying to survive, while other people continued hoping and waiting for Colplat to return and save them. The author belonged to the last group. But, and Elizabeth leaned forward, fascinated by the next words, some people turned inward. A group of the military veterans organized towns, or founded new ones closer to secure sources of water and firewood. Other people, who the author called “ch-risst-ee-ahns” and “cat-ho-licks,” along with a group named the “meen-noh-nights,” began raising large numbers of horses and donkeys, and cattle, sheep, and shahmas for food. The writer had wondered if they could raise enough animals to feed everyone.