The Cerberus Rebellion (A Griffins & Gunpowder Novel)

by Joshua Johnson

  A gavel slammed on solid wood and Hadrian glanced at his pocket watch again. The Assembly would be starting within moments.

  “Should we request an absence?” Raedan asked.

  “No.” Hadrian shook his head. “I will grieve in my own time. We have matters to attend to for now.”

  Raedan looked skeptical, but said nothing as his brother turned and followed the last of the nobles into the meeting hall.

  Hampton Keep’s dining hall was expansive. Great iron chandeliers hung from massive wooden beams, and lanterns burned in sconces on the walls. So many tables and benches had been brought in to accommodate the nobles and their advisors that the paths between the benches were barely wide enough for one person.

  A table with three large chairs sat on a raised dais against the back wall. The Assembly had declared that wherever they gathered, the hosting noble would not be given the special treatment of a seat at the head table. Instead, each of the nobles would contribute gold to that noble’s coffers in order to defray the cost of hosting so many.

  Lord Dalton Croutcher, Lord Putnam Seward and Lord Preston Ridley sat in the three large chairs. Each wore pressed uniforms in his respective colors. As the eldest and longest standing of the three dukes, Dalton had been granted the center seat and had been appointed the Assembly’s leader. Putnam Seward’s orange hair had considerably more gray than had been visible little more than four months earlier, and his dark brown eyes showed signs of a lack of sleep. Preston Ridley’s youth was never more in evidence than when he was seated next to his much older fellows. The wisp of a brown mustache had grown, but no one would be charitable enough to call it thick. His eyes held the inexperienced excitement of youth.

  The Earls Odwolfe, Garroway, Chadburn and West Shore had the table nearest the dais, each with their own luxurious armchair.

  Wallace McKinley had come all the way from Odwolfe Castle to attend this Assembly. That had been partly driven by Dalton’s summons and partly by the opportunity for the earl to flaunt his significant wealth in front of his peers. He wore the most garish suit that Hadrian had ever seen. It was cut to allow the earl freedom of movement despite his increasing weight.

  The more prestigious barons shared a pair of tables beyond the earls; a total of six were granted the privilege of their own armchairs and a less crowded table, Hadrian was among them. He joined the Barons Hampton and Black Mountain at the table on the right side of the hall while Barons Black River, Seaguard and Kendryk sat at the opposite table.

  Six barons sat at a table behind Hadrian, Raedan among them, and six sat at a table on the other side of the hall. They were provided chairs, but not nearly as comfortable as the chairs that their fellows were given. Behind them, four more tables had been assembled with benches for the dozens of advisors and assistants that were present to serve their nobles.

  Auberon Strait and Damon Kor found their places among the many advisors and Hadrian noted that for once they were not the only attendants of elven blood. An advisor with the blue mermaid on white watched the obviously elder Damon and half-blood Auberon take their seats near him. Hadrian noted that the elf did not display a talisman, nor did he have a staff. Even his fingers were bare, an oddity for anyone of respectable birth or standing in Ansgar.

  “This gathering will come to order!” Dalton’s announcement ended the side conversations that had sprouted up throughout the hall and all eyes faced forward to the dais. “The Second Assembly of Western Nobles is now in session. The Roll will now be called!”

  While one scribe handed Dalton a scroll, another scratched notes onto parchment to record the events of the Assembly. The first scribe soon joined him with quill and paper of his own.

  The Roll Call proceeded by rank and then by standing, so when it came time for the barons to answer their call, Lord Jon Tullen of South Griffin Cliffs, who had stood for fifty-seven years, was first on the list.

  “My fellow nobles, it is my sad duty to inform you that Lord Jon Tullen has passed beyond this world,” Hadrian announced. Whispers spread throughout the hall, though most were tactful enough to avoid being heard by Hadrian. “Thus I answer for South Griffin Cliffs as husband to his only child and heir, Alicia Tullen.”

  “Our condolensces for your loss, my lord,” Dalton said, and for a moment his apologetic eyes met Hadrian’s. “Let it be recorded that Lord Jon Tullen has passed beyond this world and that Lord Hadrian Clyve, as husband to the only living heir to the lands of the South Griffin Cliffs, has answered instead.”

  The roll call continued for several more minutes until all of the territories had been answered for. When the scribes confirmed that they had recorded all of the names of those present, Dalton opened a ledger and turned several pages.

  “My Lords, I would call for an exception to our procedures to handle this news from South Griffin Cliffs,” Dalton announced.

  “I second an exception,” Preston Ridley said loudly.

  “Are there any opposed to called exception?” Dalton asked and then paused, daring anyone to raise opposition to his request. He slammed his gavel after a moment. “The exception is passed. My Lords, I would bring to the floor the situation now present in the South Griffin Cliffs. As Lord Tullen left no living male heirs, the husband of his only child stands as first in the line of succession to his title. Lord Hadrian, please stand.”

  Hadrian stood and bowed to his liege. “Your Grace.”

  “Are there any here who would contest this man’s right to ascend to the title of Lord of the South Griffin Cliffs based on the validity of his claim, his capacity to serve as a Noble of Ansgar, or his general fitness to take on this role?” Dalton asked. His look was stern as he swept his eyes over the assembled nobles.

  One voice answered. “Your Grace.” Lord Harleigh Leaman, Baron Saewald, stood to present his argument. His eyes held mischief. “Your Grace, Lord Hadrian has ruled over the territory of North Griffin Cliffs for many years, since the passing of his beloved and respected father. In that time he has done a commendable job in expanding the economy and influence of his territory. However, his marriage to the only child of Lord Tullen was made, and accepted by yourself and the King of Ansgar, under different circumstances, in a different time.

  “When the Barony of Broken Plains was left without a direct heir, Lord Hadrian himself agreed that too much power in the hands of one noble could be a bad thing, and that is why he agreed to allow his brother to stand in his place to ascend to that title. How is this any different from that?”

  “Your Grace, if I may?” Hadrian asked and Dalton nodded. “Lord Leaman, if you will recall, the reason that I deferred the Barony of Broken Plains to my brother was that I was already first in the line of succession to take over the title of the late Lord Tullen, and some within this chamber argued that three baronies in the hands of one noble would be dangerous and ill advised. I never agreed with them; I merely offered to placate them with the offering of my brother as a suitable replacement and the next in line to stand for the Broken Plains by way of the law. As to the argument that my marriage to the only heir to Lord Tullen was made under a different time, the same could be said of many things. Your ascension to your title was endorsed by the same king that endorsed my betrothal; if my right to ascend to the Barony of South Griffin Cliffs is in question because of who endorsed the marriage that made that ascension possible, then I contend that the title of every noble in this chamber is in question.”

  “A marriage contract that may result in a situation and an ascension—”

  “Are not two separate issues,” Hadrian interrupted. “They are legal contracts endorsed by the reigning sovereign at the time of their creation.”

  “Does anyone else have any arguments against the ascension of Hadrian Clyve to the Barony of the South Griffin Cliffs?” Dalton asked before Harleigh Leaman could further his argument. His eyes once again dared someone, anyone, to challenge his decision; no further arguments were raised. “Then as his right to this title has been conteste
d, we will hold a vote. Lord Clyve, do you prefer a voice vote or a written vote?”

  “A voice vote will suffice,” Hadrian said as he turned to face the rest of the nobles.

  Lord Leaman received far less support for his contest than Hadrian would have expected. Only three other nobles raised a voice to halt his ascension his new title, and Hadrian made a mental note to review his contracts with the offending nobles when all was said and done.

  “The contest has been denied,” Dalton announced.

  “Your Grace.” Hadrian stood again. “I would ask a request before my ascension to this title is officially endorsed.”

  “Very well,” Dalton said.

  “My fellow nobles, as I’m sure you are aware, there are many logistical and financial challenges that accompany a noble title. That is doubly true when two separate territories are involved. As such, I would like to move that the territories of North and South Griffin Cliffs be united into a single territory, as it was for centuries after the landing of our people on the shores of this nation.”

  “Are there any challenges to this request?” Dalton asked. This time, no one spoke. “Very well, Lord Clyve. By the power vested in me by this Assembly and by the gods, I declare you the new Baron of the South Griffin Cliffs. Furthermore, the territories of North and South Griffin Cliffs are officially abolished and the unified territory of Griffin Cliffs is established!”

  Chapter 25 - Roland

  Roland Jarmann pressed his eye to his looking glass and looked out over the low hills west of Fort William. Tens of thousands of Ansgari soldiers crawled over those hills, marching toward the city of Agilard and the fortresses that surrounded it. He could see wagon trains and columns of limbered artillery pieces pulled forward by draft horses.

  “There’s more than seventy thousand of them,” Alger Greenbow announced. “They’ve marched at the double time along the south west highway.”

  “Lord Carsten didn’t put up much of a fight,” Roland observed as he lowered his looking glass.

  “All reports from the battle say that King Eadric was relentless in his pursuit,” Alger said. “Carsten was a fool.”

  “There’s no denying that,” Roland said.

  “Another sixty thousand soldiers are marching down along the north road,” Alger continued. “They’ll be here within the week. I’m not sure that we’ll be able to withstand an assault if they’re allowed to join together.”

  “Then we must break this army before the next one arrives.”

  Sixty-five thousand Kerberosi soldiers surrounded Agilard and the fortresses that protected it. They had entrenched between the advancing Ansgari army and their capitol. Their tents filled much of the space between the ring of forts and the walls. More trickled in everyday, remnants of the western armies that had failed to stop Eadric Garrard’s advance, or militias called up from their homes to supplement the trained ranks of defenders.

  “That would have been far easier if our friends didn’t abandon us at the first sign of trouble,” Alger said.

  When the reports of Lord Carsten’s ambush of William Richards had reached the capitals of the other Nordahrian nations, their soldiers had been recalled from Agilard City. The Beldanian forces had been the first to flee and the contingent from Steimor had been close behind.

  “They outnumber us greatly,” Alger continued as Roland turned away from the ramparts of Fort William.

  The fortress courtyard was a mass of moving bodies and supplies as the garrison prepared to repel an assault. Additional artillery had been hauled into the fortress to protect the guns from enemy fire and dirt barbettes were being raised to accomodate them. The fifteen-pound guns would be less effective than the fort’s siege guns, but they would do their part when the enemy came calling.

  But a defensive fight did not favor the Kerberosi. When the Ansgari forces finally came together, they would outnumber Agilard’s defenders by nearly one hundred thousand armed soldiers. They would control the roads and rail lines leading to and from the city and would be able to cut the city off from any food or ammunition. Ships could still make port in Hellhound Harbor, but it was fifteen hundred miles to the nearest port capable of handling the task of keeping the capitol resupplied. And the Ansgari navy would not be idle in the meantime.

  “They might outnumber us, but these are our lands,” Roland countered. “The majority of their army will be encamped by nightfall. I want you to select the most experienced division we have. We’ll send them through the valleys and strike at the heart of the enemy camp before they have time to deploy their artillery.”

  “My lord, even their advanced forces will take the time to dig out trenches and set up pickets before they retire for the evening.”

  “Lord Greenbow, my father gave me command of his soldiers because he trusts my decisions,” Roland said, his tone firm. “We’re not launching a full assault, only a probing attack to keep them on their heels.”

  “As you wish,” Alger said. He bowed and retreated down the steps on the inside of the wall.

  Roland turned back to the ramparts and pinched the bridge of his nose. Gathering the remnants of the southern and western Kerberosi armies had been a task greater than he had expected. A great many soldiers had taken their rifles, and everything they could carry, and returned to their homes. Hundreds more deserters were reported every day. Even the most resilient of his father’s commanders were starting to show signs of wavering. One general had been brave enough, or stupid enough, to suggest that Magnus Jarmann seek peace with the Ansgari King; he had stripped of his rank and assigned to clean up duties.

  Roland, like his father, believed that their independence could be still be won. If he could defeat Eadric Garrard before the second Ansgari force arrived at Agilard, he had a chance to rest his soldiers and protect against the second strike.

  ***

  The heat of the day was finally starting to dissipate as twenty-two thousand Kerberosi soldiers marched along the bottom of a steep valley in the dwindling daylight. They marched with light packs, only the necessities for battle. Roland was at the head of the column, watching and waiting for the first sign of Ansgari patrols. The valley — really it was a narrow ravine more than a valley — twisted away from the city of Agilard through the rolling hills until it emptied into the much larger Gerich Valley.

  If Roland were on the other side, the Gerich is where he would camp his army. It ran northeast to southwest, almost three hundred miles from end to end, and was the most fertile territory in Kerberos. Fruit orchards, wheat and corn fields, and grazing pastures for half of a dozen different animals filled the valley from end to end and made it one of the most productive regions on the continent.

  Roland had chosen their path in order to move into the Gerich south of any likely encampments, away from the only village in the valley. If he was right, most of their attention would be on their eastern side, toward the fortresses protecting Agilard City, not as much on their southern flank.

  A long, high-pitched whistle echoed through the valley ahead of the column. In the silence of the evening, the sound was piercing. In the waning light, Roland could barely make out the riders galloping toward them on the rocky ravine floor. There were five of them, he saw at last, and they wore the black uniform of his father’s guard.

  The lead rider vaulted from his horse before the beast even came to a halt.

  “What is your report?” Roland asked as the man bowed.

  “They’re set up in the Gerich,” the scout reported. “I counted near a hundred banners, my lord. There’s at least forty thousand of them camped out right on top of the town. Right where you said they’d be.”

  “The Ansgari nobles are vain,” Roland said. “They needs their comforts.”

  “Indeed, Sir. They’ve got pickets set out all ‘round town and on the hills,” the scout continued. “Light artillery too, not just infantry. And there’s calvary riding about.”

  Roland grimaced. He hadn’t expected their light artillery
to be in place yet. “Very well, Private. You are dismissed.” The scout saluted and led his horse away. Roland turned to his commanders. “We’ve got a problem.”

  “The light artillery by itself won’t be a problem,” General Tayte Ander said. It was his division that Roland was leading into battle. “But combined with the cavalry, we’re going to have to strike more quickly than we had expected, and from closer than planned.”

  “This ravine forks ahead,” Roland said. “The main branch leads into the Gerich, but the spur cuts to the north. It ends abruptly, about three miles away from the valley and five miles from the town. The climb at the end won’t be easy, but it isn’t impossible.”

  “I think we should consider sending some of our troops up the main branch. They can wait until the main force is in place and then act as a distraction. It will take the light artillery some time to reposition, so if we draw their fire to the south, the east should be clear.”

  “We can’t afford to split our forces,” Roland countered. “We’re already outnumbered nearly two-to-one. Even if we catch them half asleep, they’ll have five thousand men on guard and another ten thousand ready to muster. They’ll be halfway to dug-in by now.”

  “This was your idea,” Tayte whispered low enough that the other officers couldn’t hear.

  “I’m well aware of that,” Roland whispered back. “We’ll move on through the main branch, but when we come on the valley, we’ll march up close to the hills.”

  “We’ll stretch out for miles if we do it that way,” Tayte said. “Those Ansgari scouts won’t miss that.”

  “They will,” Roland said. “By the time we make the Gerich, we’ll be shadows in the night. We’ll march north along the lower parts of the valley wall. Then we hit their pickets and sentries first, then turn that light artillery on the town.”

  “I’ll pass word,” Tayte said as he turned back toward the column.