The Champion of Garathorm

by Michael Moorcock

  Deliberately, maliciously, Hawkmoon made no attempt to improve his appearance. Let his visitor see him as he was.

  Besides, he was most certainly mad. Even this could be one of his fantasies. He could be anywhere - in bed, at his tables, even riding through the marshes - and only believing that these events were taking place. As he left his bed-chamber and passed through the room in which his model tables had been set up, he brushed at ranks of soldiers with his dirty sleeves, he knocked over buildings, he kicked at a leg so that an earthquake took place in the city of Koln.

  He blinked as he came out onto the landing, lit by huge, tinted windows at both ends. The light hurt his eyes.

  He walked towards the stairs which wound down to the great hall. He clutched a rail, feeling dizzy. His own infirmity amused him. He looked forward to his visitor's shock when he appeared.

  A servant hurried up to help him and he leaned heavily on the young man's arm as, slowly, they descended. And at last he reached the hall.

  An armoured figure stood admiring one of Count Brass's battle trophies - a lance and a dented shield which he had won off Orson Kach during the Rhine Cities Wars, many years be­fore.

  Hawkmoon did not recognise the figure at all. It was fairly short, stocky and had a somewhat belligerent stance. Some old fighting companion of the count's, when he was a mercenary general, almost certainly.

  'Greetings,' wheezed Hawkmoon. 'I am the present custo­dian of Castle Brass.'

  The figure turned. Cool, grey eyes looked Hawkmoon up and down. There was no shock in the eyes, no expression at all as the figure stepped forward, hand extended.

  Indeed, it was likely that Hawkmoon's own face betrayed sur­prise, at very least.

  For his visitor, dressed all in battered armour, was a middle-aged woman.

  'Duke Dorian?' she said. 'I am Katinka van Bak. I've been travelling many nights.'

  4

  News From Beyond

  The Bulgar Mountains

  I was born in sea-drowned Hollandia,' said Katinka van Bak, though my mother's parents were traders from Muskovia. In the battles between our country and the Belgic States, my kin were slain and I became a captive. For a while I served - in a manner you can imagine - in the retinue of Prinz Lobko­witz of Berlin. He had aided the Belgics in their war and I was part of his spoil.' She paused to take another slice of cold beef from the plate before her. Her armour was discarded and she wore a simple silk shirt and a pair of blue cotton breeks. For all she leaned her arms on the table and spoke in blunt, unladylike tones, she was not unfeminine and Hawkmoon found himself liking her very much.

  "Well, I spent much time in the company of warriors and it became my ambition to learn their skills. It amused them to teach me to use sword and bow and I continued to affect an awkwardness with weapons long after I had mastered their use.' In this means I succeeded in not arousing any suspicion as to my plans.'

  "You planned to escape?'

  'A little more than that.' Katinka van Bak smiled and wiped her lips. 'There came a time when Prinz Lobkowitz himself heard of my eccentricity. I remember his laughter when he was taken to the quadrangle outside the dormitories where we girls lived. The soldier who had made me his special protege gave me a sword and we duelled, he and I, for a while, to demonstrate to the prince the charming artlessness with which I thrust and parried. This was fine amusement indeed and Prinz Lobkowitz said that as he was entertaining guests that evening it would be a novel idea to show me off to them, something to make a change from the usual jongleurs and such who normally per­formed at such functions. This suited me well. I fluttered my lashes and smiled shyly and pretended to be pleased that I had teen granted such an honour - pretended that I did not realise they were all laughing at me.'

  Hawkmoon tried to imagine Katinka van Bak fluttering her lashes and playing the ingenue, but the effort defeated his imag­ination. 'And what happened?' He was genuinely curious. For the first time in months something was happening to take his attention away from his own problems. He rested an unshaven chin on a scabrous hand as Katinka van Bak continued.

  'Well, that evening I was presented to the delighted guests who watched me girlishly duelling with several of Prinz Lobkowitz's warriors. They ate much as they watched, but they drank more. Several of the prince's guests - men and women -offered to buy me for large sums and this, of course, increased Prinz Lobkowitz's pride that he owned me. Naturally, he re­fused to sell. I remember his calling out to me:

  ' "And now, little Katinka, how many other martial arts do you pursue? What will you show us next?"

  'Judging my moment to be the right one, I curtseyed prettily and, as if with naive boldness, said:

  ' "I have heard that you are a great swordsman, Your Grace. The best in all the province of Berlin."

  ' "So it is said," replied Lobkowitz.

  "Would you do me the honour of crossing swords with me, my lord? So that I may test my skill against the finest blade in this hall?"

  'Prince Lobkowitz was taken aback by this at first, but then he laughed. It was hard for him to refuse in front of his guests, as I'd known. He decided to indulge me, but said gravely:

  ' "In Berlin there are different stakes for different forms of duelling. We fight for a first body-cut, for a first cut on the left cheek, for a first cut on the right cheek and so on - up to duelling to the death. I would not like to spoil your beauty, little Katinka."

  ' "Then let us fight to the death, Your Grace," I said, as if car­ried away by the reception I had received.

  'Laughter filled the hall, then. But I saw many an eager eye looking from me to the prince. None doubted that the prince would win any duel, of course, but they would be gratified at seeing my blood spilled.

  'Lobkowitz was nonplussed, too drunk to think clearly, to work out the implications of my suggestion. But he did not wish to lose face in front of his guests.

  ' "I would not kill such a talented slave," he said jovially. "I think we should consider some other stake, little Katinka."

  ' "My freedom, then?" I suggested.

  ' "Neither would I lose so entertaining a girl ..." he began. But then the crowd was roaring at him to take more sporting an attitude. After all, they all knew he would play with me for a while before delivering a token cut or disarming me.

  ' "Very well!" He smiled and shrugged and accepted a blade from one of his guards, stepping from his table to the floor and taking up a fighting stance before me. "Let's begin." I could see that he intended to display his own skill in the manner in which he would prolong the duel.

  'The fight began clumsily enough. Awkwardly I thrust and insouciantly he parried. The crowd of guests cheered me on and some even began to make wagers on how long the duel would last - though none wagered that I would win, of course.' Ka­tinka van Bak poured a cup of apple juice for herself and swal­lowed it down before going on with her story.

  'As you have guessed, Duke Dorian, I had become a swords-woman of no mean ability. Slowly I began to reveal my talent and slowly it dawned on Prince Lobkowitz that he was having to use more and more of his skill to defend himself. I could see that he was beginning to realise that he fought an opponent who might well be his match. The idea of being beaten by a slave -and a slave-girl, at that - was not a pleasant one. He began to fight seriously. He wounded me twice. Once in the left shoulder and once in the thigh. But I fought on. And now, I recall, there was absolute silence in the hall, save for the sound of our steel and of Prinz Lobkowitz's heavy breathing. We fought for an hour. He would have killed me if he could.'

  'I remember,' said Hawkmoon, 'a tale I heard when I ruled in Kohl. So you are the woman who ... ?'

  'Who slew the Prince of Berlin? Aye. I killed him in his own hall, before his own guests, in the presence of his own body­guards. I took him in his heart with a single clean thrust. He was the first I killed. And before they could believe what they had seen I had raised my sword and reminded them all of the prince's bargain - that if I won the duel I should
have my free­dom. I doubt if any of the prince's close retainers would have kept that bargain. They would have slain me there and then if it had not been for Lobkowitz's friends and those who had had ambitions upon his territories. Several of them gathered round me to offer me positions in their households - as a novelty, you understand, rather than for my battle-skill. I accepted a post in the guard of Guy O'Pointte, Archduke of Bavaria. On the spot. The archduke's guard was the largest there, you under­stand, since he was the most powerful of the nobles assembled. After that, the dead prince's men decided to honour their mas­ter's bargain.'

  'And that is how you became a soldier?'

  'Aye. Eventually I became Guy O'Pointte's chief general. When the archduke was murdered by his uncle's family, I left the service of Bavaria and went to find a new position. And that, of course, is when I met Count Brass. We've served as mercen­aries together in half the armies of Europe - and often on the same side! At about the time your count settled here in the Kamarg, I went east and joined the permanent service of the Prince of Ukrainia, where I advised him on the reconstruction of his army. We put up a good defence against the legions of the Dark Empire."

  'You were captured by the Beast Lords?'

  Katinka van Bak shook her head. 'I escaped to the Bulgar Mountains, where I remained until after you and your com­rades had turned the tables on them at the Battle of Londra. It fell upon me to help restore Ukrainia, the prince's youngest niece being the only surviving member of the family. I became Regent of Ukrainia, through no particular wish of my own.'

  'You have renounced that position, then? Or are you merely visiting us incognito?'

  'I did not renounce the position and I am not visiting you in­cognito,' said Katinka van Bak firmly, as if chiding Hawkmoon for trying to hurry her in her story. 'Ukrainia was invaded.'

  'What? By whom? I thought the world at relative peace!'

  'So it is. Or was until a short time ago when we who dwell to the east of the Bulgar Mountains began to hear of an army which had gathered in those mountains.'

  'The Dark Empire resurgents!'

  Katinka van Bak held up a chiding hand to silence him.

  'It was a rabble army,' she went on. 'Certainly it was that. But I do not think it was the remains of the Dark Empire army. Though it was vast and had powerful weapons at its disposal, no individual comprising it resembled another. They wore different styles of clothing, carried different kinds of weapons, be­longed to different races - some of which were by no means human. Do you follow me - each one looked as if he belonged to a different army.'

  'A band comprised of soldiers who survived the conquerings of the Dark Empire?'

  'I think not. I do not know where these came from. All I do know is that every time they ventured from their mountains -which they had made their own and turned them into an im­pregnable fortress - almost - no expedition ever sent against this army was ever successful. Each force was wiped out. They kill whole populations - to the last new-born baby - and strip villages, cities, whole nations of everything of value. In that respect they are like bandits, rather than an organised army with some ultimate purpose. These seem to attack countries for loot alone. And as a result they extend their activities further and further, returning always with their booty, their stolen food and - very occasionally - women, to their mountain strong­hold.'

  'Who leads them?'

  'I know not, though I've fought them when they came against the Ukraine. Either several lead them or none does. There is noone to reason with, to parley with. They seem moved only by greed and a lust to kill. They are like locusts. There is no other description which fits them better. Even the Dark Empire allowed survivors, for it planned to rule the world and needed people to serve it. But these - these are worse.'

  'It's hard to conceive of an aggressor worse than the Dark Empire,' said Hawkmoon feelingly. 'But,' he added quickly, 'I believe you, of course, Katinka van Bak.'

  'Aye, believe me, for I'm the sole survivor. I thank the life I've led. It has given me the experience to know when a situation is lost and how to escape the consequences of such a loss. No other creature remains alive in Ukrainia or many other lands beyond the Bulgar Mountains.'

  'So you fled to warn the lands this side of the mountains? To raise an army, perhaps, against this - powerful rabble?'

  'I fled. That is all. I have told my story to anyone who will listen, but I do not expect much will be done as a result. Most will not care what has happened to folk dwelling in such dis­tant parts, even if they believed me in the first place. Therefore, to try to raise an army would be fruitless. And, I'll add, any hu­man army which went against those who now occupy the Bulgar Mountains would be utterly destroyed.'

  'Will you go on to Londra? Count Brass will be there by now.'

  Katinka van Bak sighed and stretched. "Not immediately, I think. If at all. I am weary. I have been riding almost without pause since leaving Ukrainia. If you do not object, I'll remain at Castle Brass until my old friend returns. Unless I have a whim to continue on to Londra. At the moment, however, I have no inclination to move beyond these walls.'

  'You are, of course, fully welcome,' said Hawkmoon eagerly. 'It is an honour for me. You must tell me more of your tales of the old days. And you must give me your theories about this rabble army - where it might have come from, and so on.'

  'I have no ideas on that subject,' said Katinka van Bak. 'There is no logical explanation. They appeared overnight and have been there ever since. Discourse with them is impossible. It is like attempting to talk reasonably to a hurricane. There is a sense of desperation about them, a wild contempt for their own lives as well as yours. And the clothing and forms of the sol­diers, as I have said, is so disparate. Not one alike. And yet, you know, I thought I recognised one or two familiar faces in the throng which swept over us. Soldiers I'd known who had been dead these many years since. And I'll swear I saw Count Brass's old friend, Bowgentle, riding with them. Yet I heard Bowgentle was killed at Londra ...'

  'He was. He was. I saw his remains.' Hawkmoon, whose in­terest up until now had been relatively faint, now became eager to hear all Katinka van Bak could tell him. He felt he was on the verge of solving the problem he had been working on all this time. Perhaps he had not been so insane, after all. 'Bowgen­tle, you say. And others who were familiar - yet dead?'

  'Aye.'

  'Did any women ride in the army?'

  'Yes. Several.'

  'Any you recognised ...?' Hawkmoon leaned across the table, staring intensely at Katinka van Bak.

  She frowned, trying to recall, then she shook her head so that her grey braids swung. 'No.'

  Tslot Yisselda, perhaps? Yisselda of Brass?'

  'She who died at Londra, too?'

  'So it's said.'

  'No. Besides I should not have recognised her. She was a small child when last I saw her.'

  'Ah,' said Hawkmoon, resuming his chair. 'Yes. I forgot."

  'That is not to say she could not have been there,' went on the warrior woman. 'There were so many. I did not see half the army which conquered me.'

  'Well, if you recognised Bowgentle, perhaps all the others were there - all those who died at Londra?'

  'I said I thought the man I saw resembled Bowgentle. But why should Bowgentle or anyone else who was a friend of yours ride in such an army?'

  'True.' Hawkmoon drew his brows together in thought. His eyes had lost their dullness. His movements had become some­what more energetic. 'Say that he and the others were charmed, perhaps. In trances. Forced to do the will of an enemy. The Dark Empire had powers which could make such a thing pos­sible.'

  'It is fanciful, Duke Dorian ...'

  'As would sound the History of the Runestaff, if we did not know it to be true.'

  'I agree, but..."

  'I have long cherished an instinct, you see,' Hawkmoon told her, 'that Yisselda did not die at Londra, for all there were many witnesses to her death and burial. It is also possible that none of ou
r other friends died at Londra - that all were victims of some secret Dark Empire counterplan. Could not the Dark Empire have substituted bodies for Yisselda and the rest, then borne the real people away to the Bulgar Mountains - captured others, too? Could you not have fought an army of Dark Empire slaves, controlled by those who escaped our vengeance?'

  'But so few did escape. And none of the Lords lived after the Battle of Londra. So who could be making such plans, even if they were likely. Which they most decidedly are not, Duke Dor­ian.' Katinka van Bak pursed her lips. 'I thought you a man of sense. A practical soldier, like myself.'

  'I thought so once - until this idea came into my mind - that Yisselda still lives. Somewhere.'

  'I had heard that you were not wholly your old self ...'

  'You mean that you had heard I was mad. Well, madam, I do believe I am mad. Perhaps I have indulged in mad follies, of late, but only because the idea - the central idea - has truth in it.'

  'I accept what you say,’said Katinka van Bak evenly. 'But I would need considerable proof of such a theory. ‘I do not have an instinct that the dead live...'

  'I think Count Brass has,' Hawkmoon told her. 'Though he would not admit it. I think it is something he refuses to con­sider for he fears that he would go as mad as he thought me to be.'

  'And that could also be,' agreed Katinka van Bak, 'but again I have no evidence that Count Brass thinks as you say. I should have to meet him again and talk with him in order to test your words.'

  Hawkmoon nodded. He thought for a moment and then said:

  'But suppose I have a means of defeating this army? What would you say? If my theories led me to the truth concerning the army and its origins and that they, in turn, led me to an un­derstanding of its weaknesses.'

  'Then your theories would be in a practical direction,' Ka­tinka van Bak said. 'But unfortunately there is only one way to test them and that involves losing one's life if one is wrong. Eh?'

  'I would willingly take that risk. When I fought the Dark Empire I soon realised there was no way to overcome it by dir­ect confrontation, but if one sought weaknesses in the leaders, and made use of those weaknesses, then they could be defeated. That is what I learned in the service of the Runestaff.'