Mamelukes

by Jerry Pournelle

  “Do you know what you’re starting?” Rick asked.

  “No, Sir, and neither do you,” Warner said. “But after watching that Parliament, I think Ganton’s going to try no matter what you do.”

  Rick looked to Tylara and got a confirming nod.

  “He is a Wanax determined to satisfy his nobles, particularly when they urge him towards what he wants to do anyway,” she said. “Yes, he will press his claim.”

  “Will he do it well?”

  Tylara sighed.

  “On that matter you have as much knowledge as I. He is young and vigorous and has charm. His men will follow him and he is not a lackwit.”

  “But will he win?”

  Tylara’s shrug said volumes.

  “So the question is, how are we better off, helping him or dragging our feet?” Warner demanded. “We help him and he wins, maybe he resents our help, but that’s the worst of it. We drag our feet and he probably loses. He’ll blame the loss on us. He’s not going to like it much, and we still have to save the bacon depending on just how bad he loses. We sure won’t be better off than we are now. He wins without us, he’s going to be pissed off and have the strength to do something about it. Either way isn’t much of an upside, is it?”

  “So just how do you propose we conquer the Five Kingdoms?” Rick demanded.

  “I don’t know, Colonel, but if anybody can do it, you can.”

  Tylara nodded.

  “I have not always agreed with Lord Warner,” she said. “But you have always said he is right more often than he is wrong. And he is not wrong in this, My Lord Husband. If it can be done, you will do it. And what choices have we? We cannot retire to our estates and pretend there is no world outside our walls! The world is all around us, inside our very keeps! You explained that very well to Prince Strymon. The Time is upon us, and we each do what we must, and on you lies the heaviest burden of all.”

  “Oh bloody hell, I don’t want to fight anymore,” Rick said.

  “Seem to remember you telling us that what we want isn’t always a factor,” Warner said. “Skipper, would you get mad if I tell you to shut up and soldier?”

  CHAPTER SIX

  AMBUSH

  The scene at the Ottarn battle camp wasn’t much different from what it had been hours before when Rick led his troops southward after Ganton’s abrupt dismissal. The King’s officers had made little progress in forming up a route column, and now it was too late in the day to begin travel. An advance guard might make it onto the road before dark, but the main body of the army and all the supply trains would be here at least another night and probably longer.

  “Stinks here,” Bisso said.

  “There isn’t enough wood to burn the dead,” Rick said. “There’ll be plague if they don’t get out of here pretty soon.”

  “What you reckon they’ll eat?” Sergeant Bisso asked. “This area’s been picked over by three armies.” He glanced at Jamiy, Rick’s Tamaerthan orderly, and cocked one eyebrow. “Think even the clans could find enough to eat here?”

  Jamiy shook his head, pleased to have been brought into the conversation by the star lord. Sergeant Bisso had a reputation for being surly.

  “I would not think there is enough to support field mice, much less an army.”

  “Maybe they’ll eat mice,” Bisso said.

  “It’s happened before,” Rick said.

  “Can’t say much for their security,” Bisso said. “Nobody’s said boo to us.”

  “As if they knew we were coming,” Jamiy said.

  “Think so? Nah, they just know who we are,” Bisso decided. “Anyway, there’s a royal page. You! Lad! Please run to the Wanax, and give him Lord Rick’s compliments. The Warlord of Drantos requests a meeting.”

  “The Warlord of Drantos requests audience with the Wanax of Drantos,” the page said formally. “It shall be told.” He paced off, not quite running, conscious of his dignity.

  “With luck I’ll catch Ganton alone,” Rick said. “Jamiy, when I go into the Royal tent, you wait outside in case we need anything. Bisso, I’d appreciate it if you’d nose around, see what rumors you come up with.”

  “Sure, Colonel. There’s enough owe me, least I can get is a drink. Maybe some information too. Jamiy, I’ll be hanging out with the Mounted Archers.”

  “Given they’re not so happy at staying behind, maybe they don’t know so much as other outfits,” Rick said.

  “Yeah, maybe, Colonel, but whatever they do know I’ll find out for sure.”

  Rick dismounted at the royal tent. Four sentries stood outside. None left his post to help Rick dismount. Jamiy waved one of Rick’s Tamaerthan bodyguards to hold Rick’s stirrup as the royal sentries watched dispassionately. Long cry from the Battle of Vis, Rick thought. At Vis the entire army had refused to move until Rick was out of danger.

  And maybe that’s the problem, Rick thought. Ganton knows a lot of his troops think more of me than of him. Maybe that’s it. But it sure feels cold here . . .

  The page looked out from the tent flap, waited until Rick was dismounted, then opened the tent entrance.

  “The Warlord of Drantos,” he said formally.

  “Lord Rick, I had not expected to see you so quickly.” Ganton was standing at the other end of the command tent. With a wave he dismissed three courtiers who had been engaged in earnest conversation as Rick came in. They left without acknowledging Rick in any way.

  “Nor I you, Majesty, but I think the matter urgent. My greetings.”

  “Greetings. An urgent matter, you said, and as you see I have dismissed my advisors. Tell us.”

  “Majesty, your Parliament has urged you to press your claim to be High Rexja.”

  “As you know. You were there.”

  “And you accept that.”

  “Yes. I am no longer accustomed to being examined as I was when I was a pupil, Lord Rick. Were we not so close, I might resent your tone.” Ganton spoke evenly, and in low tones, but Rick wondered if any of the guards and nobles in and out of the command tent would hear.

  “Your pardon, Majesty, but I must be certain of your intent,” Rick said. “The matter is one of both importance and urgency.”

  “That is twice you have mentioned urgency. How so?”

  “If you intend this course, our best chance is now,” Rick said.

  “Our best chance. You believe I cannot win without you?”

  Rick spread his hands.

  “Do you, Sire?”

  “I confess uncertainty,” Ganton said. “But only to you. It would hardly do to let my doubts become public.”

  “Agreed. Doubly agreed,” Rick said. “More. You are able, and you learn fast. I think you could win without me. I also think it would take you much longer, and cost much more.”

  “Then let us heartily agree, for I said the same thing to the Lord Speaker not three hours ago,” Ganton said. “So. I take it you have plans. But first, surely, you will return to your own lands to drive out Lord General Ailas and his army.”

  “No. We want that army there,” Rick said. “Sire, an army in Chelm isn’t defending the capital of the Five Kingdoms. Which is where we shall be as quickly as we can travel there.”

  “But our forces are not yet assembled—”

  “And theirs are worse scattered,” Rick said. “Strymon returns to the Green Palace with all the force he can muster. That is a long way from Aachilos. Whatever he finds there, it will take time to sort it out, and he won’t be looking for trouble. True, he may not respond to a summons from the High Rexja to defend the realm, but he will probably defend the realm against predations, even against you. Then again if Toris has his wits, or Issardos does, they’ll pardon Strymon and summon him. All that will take time. So if we strike fast and hard, by the time he can arrive you will be host to an Electoral College. Called by you, to chambers you control, in Aachilos where the elections are always held. It is but a short step from there to having that College name you High Rexja.”

  “You w
ould kill Rexja Toris?”

  “No, but I have no hesitation in deposing him,” Rick said. “For cause. Incompetence for one.”

  “He may be even less competent than you know,” Ganton said.

  “I’ve heard those rumors too. If so, all the better. Leave him the throne. The College meets, and we say we have no designs against the High Rexja, but the realm must be governed. We pray the College will proclaim you, as both heir and regent. And we lock the old man in a place of comfort where the only women he can father children on will be whores.”

  “That would have been more pleasing to Prince Sarakos than to Toris. But what if Akkilas lives and that head was indeed that of the tanist?” Ganton asked.

  “We deal with that when the time comes. If we have to, we shoot him.”

  “And the religious wars? Chancellor Issardos supports Vothan. We have converts among Strymon’s army because Ta-Meltemos has long been a land where Yatar prevails, but the Five Kingdoms officially rank Vothan at least Yatar’s equal, and the priests of Vothan hold by far the most influence in the capital.”

  “The best way to win converts from a religion is to show it is a religion for losers,” Rick said. “When you hold Aachilos you may build a great cathedral to Yatar and Christ, and that, I think, will be the end of the matter.”

  “I do not understand you, Lord Rick. You were no enthusiast for my claims as High Rexja.”

  “I am no enthusiast for more war, Sire,” Rick said. “But on reflection I believe it best for all if we unify the realms of Drantos and the Five, with Drantos in the lead. We will endure the Time better. I should think you would be pleased of my aid, Majesty.”

  “Why? Was there doubt that it would be offered?” Ganton asked. “I am pleased to have your aid, Warlord, but I shall be more pleased to have it when I am ready to make use of it. Did you think I had not considered pressing forward instantly? Do you believe yourself the only strategist in Drantos? No, no, My Lord, I have looked at these possibilities as carefully as you, and with better counsel.

  “You wish me to press onward, with the enemy’s best army to my southwest. On your land, but without you to oppose it there is nothing to prevent Ailas from marching swiftly to the defense of his capital. And there is another army between us and Aachilos.”

  “Scattered in defeat, Majesty,” Rick said.

  “Scattered and dispersed, but even as we speak it is called to muster again by Matthias, a competent enough general. Then to the east there is Strymon with all his force. Strymon who will have left spies to watch us and who will know our every move. Strymon, the best general on Tran it is said, with his army intact and ordered well enough that he was able to march homeward while we squabble over meager spoils! No, My Lord Rick, I think not. It is well to be bold, but it is another matter to be foolhardy.

  “Return to your lands. Expel Ailas while I gather the strength of the realm and see to my borders. Time enough to press this claim when that is done.” Ganton smiled thinly. “I am always pleased to see you, Lord Rick, but I do not expect to see you again while Ailas is entrenched in our County of Chelm. My thanks for your suggestions. Good day, My Lord, I will not detain you longer.”

  * * *

  The True Sun was down, and the Firestealer was making long shadows into the thickets. Rick rode along the darkening road in silence. Jamiy and his guards had not spoken a word since they saw his mood after his interview with the Wanax.

  Handed me my head, Rick thought. I suppose I should be gratified, we tried to teach him to think independently. But not independently of us!

  The worst of it was that Ganton might be right. It was a chancy business, charging forward without supply lines. Not as chancy as Ganton thought. Murphy’s raiders were operating ahead, and the private reports Murphy sent to accompany his grisly trophies made it clear the Fiver armies were scattered and no organized force stood between the border and the capital. Should I have told him that? But Ganton was in no mood to listen.

  A strange meeting, Rick thought. As if he expected me to come, and had his answer ready. But how would he know I was coming? Or what I would propose?

  “Ambush! Alarm!” The shouts came from the mounted archers who served as advance guard for Rick’s party. There were insistent hoof beats from the road ahead. A dozen horsemen, lightly armed, had burst past the advance party and were charging directly at Rick, sabers raised high, the nearest not a hundred yards away.

  “Kill the traitor!” “For the glory of Vothan!” “Vothan calls!”

  “Dismount to receive cavalry!” Bisso shouted. “Jamiy, look to the Colonel!”

  Jamiy spurred his horse to get between Rick and the charging enemies. He was only just in time before the raiders were on him. One engaged him. The others charged past, ignoring the orderly, their eyes fixed on Rick.

  “Vothan calls! Kill the traitor! Vothan calls!”

  Rick fumbled at his shoulder holster. His pistol was buckled in, his shield hung on the cantle of his saddle. Jamiy had bought him a moment, but only that. The nearest enemy was no more than five yards away, saber raised high—

  Bisso must have been just behind him. His H&K battle rifle sounded like the crack of doom. Rick’s ears rang with the muzzle blast, but the first enemy screamed in pain. His saber dropped. Bisso fired again. The man stayed in the saddle, but he rode past without striking. Bisso fired a new burst, and the charging group parted, flowing around them. A saber grated on Rick’s chain mail, then they were past.

  His ears rang. Someone shouted, but he couldn’t make out what was said. Jamiy was down, out of the saddle and sprawled on the ground. His bodyguards were scattered. Then he saw dust rise ahead, and a dozen new shapes in the gloom. More enemies! Grimly he drew his pistol, but there was no one between him and the new force. This was defeat.

  Dimly through the ringing in his ears he heard “For Yatar and Christ!” The newcomers were his own advance guard, turned to pursue the enemy that had broken past them. Now other mounted archers came up to form beside Jamiy and shield their commander. He heard new battle cries.

  “Tamaerthan! For Lord Rick!”

  And as suddenly as it had begun, the attack was over. More assassins rode past at a gallop. Two were down. The others escaped.

  “Pursue!”

  “Hold!” Bisso’s shout stopped the pursuit before it began. He looked to Rick for instructions.

  You handle it, Rick thought. You or somebody. Not me, I don’t even know what just happened. I’m too damn old for this, I never was a good tactical commander and I’m dead tired—

  Bisso frowned, then rose in his stirrups to shout.

  “Let ’em go. You, Cambyrly, take five more Tamaerthans and scout ahead. You’ll be safe enough, they’re after the Colonel, not you. Adams! Take your partner and play connecting file between us and the advance guard. Now who’s got the best horse here?”

  A young Tamaerthan lord limped up. “I do.”

  “Yeah, Sean, but you’re hurt.”

  “Not badly, and my horse not at all.”

  “Good man. Okay, you go with the advance guard there and when they get far enough out, leave ’em behind you and ride like hell to the camp. Come back with Balquhain and some reinforcements. And make sure Lady Tylara knows the Colonel’s okay. Colonel, you all right?”

  “I’m fine, Sergeant. Jamiy!”

  His orderly was down, but he seemed able to sit up.

  “Medic!” Rick shouted.

  “None with us, Colonel,” Bisso said. “Jamiy, you bleeding?”

  Jamiy nodded dully.

  Bisso dismounted.

  “God Almighty, no wonder you’re bleedin’,” he said. “Hang on, I got to tie that off. You two, see he gets to the surgeon as soon as we get to camp. Colonel, all due respect and we need to get movin’ before those creeps come back with an army. My Lord Dugready, is there some reason you’re not riding to camp?”

  “On my way, Lord Bisso.”

  Bisso nodded acknowledgment.

&nb
sp; “Okay, Colonel, let’s get moving.”

  “I’m worried about Jamiy—”

  “Yes Sir, and if you get killed, we all go. The troops will get him back to camp, and there’s nothing you can do they can’t. He’s got a hell of a slice on his shield arm, and he needs sewing up, but neither one of us is going to do that. So let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Suppose hell, Colonel. Okay, troops, move out.”

  Rick let himself be led away, towards the camp and safety.

  * * *

  Warner inspected the dead attacker.

  “Looks like a Fiver to me, Sir. And you say they were shouting about Vothan?”

  “Sure were,” Bisso said. “‘Favor of Vothan!’ That sort of thing. And ‘Kill the traitor,’ who I reckon is the Colonel here. That’s sure who they were after, Mr. Warner.”

  “The interesting thing is, how did they know to be there?” Warner asked, and Rick nodded.

  “That’s been bothering me, too.”

  “Pity they didn’t leave anything but dead behind,” Warner mused. “Bad luck, that.”

  “Nope,” Bisso said. “Not luck, Mr. Warner. They led their wounded off, and this guy they finished off. The bullet didn’t kill him, it was that arrow that done it, and one of his own shot that from one of them small crossbows.”

  “Kill their wounded rather than let them be captured,” Warner said. “Tough bunch. Did you go through his things?”

  “Yeah, mixed bag, the kind of stuff you’ll find on any trooper after a few weeks on campaign. Loot, this and that. But nothing pointing to where he came from, leastwise nothing I get any feeling from.”

  “I’ll go over it later,” Warner said. “Religious objects?”

  “Both Vothan and Yatar stuff,” Bisso said.

  “But no cross? Nothing Christian.”

  “No, Mr. Warner.”

  Tylara burst into the command center.

  “My Lord. They say you are all right—”

  “I’m fine, sweetheart. Not a scratch on me.”

  “Christ be thanked. Sergeant, I am told there were a dozen, in ambush, and that they made directly for My Lord Husband, to kill him.”