“Redbeard, it’s me, Cristal.”
“Oh! Lucky I didn’t spit you, you silly old woman.”
He let her go and she swung around to look at him. Still tall and well built, neat and tidy but a bit more worn now. His large red beard and moustache, jutting from under a many times broken nose, hung over the front of his shirt, combed and well kept.
“What do you want?” he asked neutrally.
“I wish to hire you and your band, about twenty men, for a simple escort job. Riding hard, it will take about nine weeks, perhaps ten all up. Pay’s good, job’s easy. Riding escort there and back. Drop off a Trader, who I’ll supply and return with two of my young relatives.”
Redbeard had already sheathed his knife, having worked for Cristal before and stood listening to her proposition. His discerning blue eyes never left her face as she spoke. When she’d finished, his first response was.
“You should be careful out on the streets, an old lady like you. You’re lucky to still be alive. Well, as there’s not much work around at the moment, I may be interested. What are the young fellows like?”
“One is a woman, about twenty five or six, the other, her brother, about two years older.”
Redbeard’s face changed slightly, a dour look coming over it.
“That makes it a bit more difficult. There are some of my mercenaries I can’t use to escort a woman. They’re a little too uncivilized and a bit frisky. It’s what makes ‘em good fighters. I’ll have to pay more for the ones I can trust for this mission.”
Cristal looked up at his troubled face.
“Don’t worry about the money. Here.”
She handed over a heavy purse.
“I trust you Redbeard, hire the best and be quick about it. What I pay means you can always hire the most trustworthy men. I may also need a private force of armed men in the months to come and you’re high on my list of those I’d like to lead it. Call at my house tomorrow, late morning. Alone. I’ll have the Trader and a letter for my relatives waiting, along with how to find them. Trugor in Myseline is not a big place. Speed is important. Until tomorrow.”
Before Redbeard could say anything further, she pulled the hood of her cloak further forward, ignoring the small trickle of now clotted blood on her neck and quickly hobbled off in character.
An innocuous old crone wandering the back streets of Belvedere.
Redbeard shook his head as she left. Who’d believe she was the richest woman in Belvedere?
By the time Cristal arrived home she was tired and sincerely glad Mendle had waited up to help her. She’d known Mendle since the venerable servant was a little girl washing dishes in the kitchens. Mendle had become more than a servant and was probably the closest thing to a friend Cristal had; though for the sake of propriety they acted out their roles in public. They sat companionably together in the drawing room as Cristal outlined her plan to bring her other two grandchildren to Belvedere.
“I don’t know whether it’s safer to leave my Grandchildren where they are or bring them here but more and more Draakon Reaver ships have been spotted in the Turquoise Sea and up around the coast of Myseline. Normally they use early morning fog banks to make surprise strikes from but now they are sailing the seas openly. Strangely though, there have been very few attacks on ship or shore reported. I smell a rat. A Dominion rat.
If the Dominion has made a treaty with the Reavers, we could be in for trouble. From what Arwhon told me, Trugor had very little answer for the Draakon Reavers last time they visited and I don’t want my Grandchildren to be in such danger. However, Belvedere itself may be the main target and come under attack, although it has never been taken before. We must bear in mind, the Empress Martine is unpredictable in the extreme.”
Mendle nodded, she had her own sources of information and although there were plenty of servants in the house to run errands, she went down to the markets herself once a week and could gossip as well as any fishwife.
“I hear things too. Food supplies, grain and such like being bought at goodly prices and taken off east. Southland don’t have much population in the east but Graswyn lies in that direction. I think you may be right Cristal, it could be time to sound the Council out.”
They finished their nightcap and retired to their respective bedrooms. Before sleep overtook her, Cristal wondered how Arwhon and his little band were faring.
Later that night when Redbeard reached his lodgings and opened the purse Cristal had given him, his eyes widened at the number of large golds she had parted with. True to her word there were more than enough golds to pay for the hire with quite a tidy sum left over. He resolved to foster stronger ties with the old lady, there was much more to her than met the eye.
Redbeard arrived alone at Cristal’s mansion at eleven o’clock the following morning wearing his worn travelling clothes and riding a large black stallion. By its stance and wariness it was obvious to Cristal the horse had been trained for war but how Redbeard came by it was anyone’s guess. His morning had been spent choosing, organising and provisioning a trusted group of mercenaries for the trip to the west coast. He now surely had the best force anyone could muster. They were waiting for him outside the city gates. Redbeard was introduced to the already mounted and waiting Trader, Randel, who was to accompany the mercenaries to Trugor.
Cristal handed Redbeard a letter addressed to Staril and Raleen of the Tsalks, which he tucked into a secret pocket inside his coat. Cristal then turned her attention to the mounted Trader for a moment or two before moving to his stirrup for a final quiet word.
“You’ve worked for me for ten years Randel and never put a foot wrong. Whatever profit you make Trading for my Grandson’s business in Trugor will be well appreciated. I’ll pay you a fair proportion of the profits, so in good years you’ll earn plenty. But, if I hear of you cheating; you’ll not live to go to trial. Understood. Succeed, and you’ll always have a position with me, should you want one.”
Randel nodded, a serious look on his face, it was all he could sensibly do in response to the very fair offer and he did value his life. There were vague rumours the old lady had her own form of justice and he wouldn’t dare to find out if they were true.
Cristal then moved to Redbeard’s stirrup and looked up to him as he comfortably sat his horse.
“The directions are simple. Straight up the Great South Road to Crossroads, turn west and travel up the Grand Valley, then down through Durhain’s Pass and follow the road west across Myseline to the coast. It will lead straight to Trugor. Beware of the town of Forbidden and do not stop there, travelling in either direction, for any reason at all. Understood?”
“Aye mistress. If this soft looking lump can keep up wi’ us, we should be back in about ten weeks all told. Give or take a week.”
The Trader glared at the sizable red bearded man but wisely said nothing. He was about to embark on the longest horse ride of his life, and would have cause, at the far end, to remember it for a long time. With a swift farewell to Cristal the two of them swung their horses around and trotted off through the gates of the mansion to join the rest of the band waiting beyond the city gates.
Cristal gazed at the walls surrounding her grounds, glad the Tsalks of previous generations had built them high and defensible. It was time for her to rest now, there was a Council meeting tonight and it could be a very interesting one.
Old Baldin, dressed as usual in his rumpled silk coat and tailored trousers, had the Chair. It was the grandest of the ten evenly spaced chairs surrounding the large, circular meeting table in the lofty auditorium. There was a small public gallery along two of the walls but generally Council Business was conducted in closed session. Baldin’s plump mottled countenance and receding hairline made him appear toadlike and he continually patted his sweating face with a white cotton handkerchief. He was a pompous individual. His family fortunes had been made tenant farming the rich lands to the east of Belvedere which supplied a lot of the grain for the city’s bread and ale; gr
ain Cristal’s business Traded in. His pomposity was tempered by fair dealings with his tenants; his farm rents were reasonable. During some of the hard years he even charged less than was usual and his tenant farmers made a good living. The huge tracts of farmland had been handed down through his family for hundreds of years.
Most of the Council members were old money.
Cradon, to his left, slim and business-like, dressed in a wool suit, owned many ships which plied the trade routes along the coast of the Turquoise Sea and due to his business acumen he made a good Treasurer for the Council.
Willem, to Old Baldin’s right was scrawny and birdlike, his sharp gaze darting back and forth around the large table. A lawyer from an old family of lawyers, he didn’t miss much and acted as Secretary to the Council. His notes were always true and accurate, pedantically so.
Besides Cristal, there were two other women on the Council of Ten, one, Trelin, the petite widow of a Duke whose family could be traced back to the founding of Belvedere. He was the Commander in Chief of Southland’s army, until his untimely death while hunting. The other, Kirta, a large plain-spoken woman who didn’t bother much with her looks, owned a lot of fish markets and virtually controlled the price of fish along the southern coast.
Two of the other men were old money, self proclaimed Dukes or such. The foppish Bertran who never said much but dealt in silks and fine clothes which came irregularly from Cheshwon, and Dalvan, a bear of a man who was the present Chief of the Guard.
Callandor, the arms dealer, was also a Council member, recently elected by the other nine. Like most of those sitting on the Council they all took just enough money from the system to be very well off without totally beggaring the population.
Most in Belvedere were happy with the status quo.
One member of the Council however, made a jarring exception to the gathering, interestingly enough sitting opposite the Chief of the Guard. He was lean and rangy but somewhat furtive, with lank black hair which fell slantwise across his forehead. Merdon did not usually volunteer information. It had taken Cristal ten years to get him voted onto the Council and some of the other Council members still questioned her wisdom at having a representative of Belvedere’s thieves and beggars present at Council meetings. Cristal was street smart and she knew, as in all well run cities, the thieves and beggars had their own Guild.
Merdon didn’t often say much but in some ways, some of Belvedere’s social advances had been brought about through his input. Advances like a hospice for the poor and food distribution to widows with children. He was proud of the fact that the women in the city who lifted their skirts for income, did it because they chose to, not because they had to.
One other person was present as a guest of the Council, the current Commander in Chief of the army, General Jorgen de Frie. He sat stroking his closely trimmed blond beard which framed a small, tight mouth beneath a hooked nose. His eyes, a striking blue, continually roved over the Council members but came back often to rest on the widow Trelin. Jorgen was anxious but tried not to show it. His promotion was many years earlier than expected due to that damned fatal hunting accident his predecessor had and worse than that, his own wife refused to take the accompanying seat on the Council, claiming her social life left her no time to attend to the affairs of the city.
So he was stuck with timid Trelin.
Traditionally, the Commander in Chief was represented on the Council of Ten by his wife so the army and Council could be seen as separate and independent bodies but could still have close communication. Not this time though. The General leaned back on his chair as the debate continued. Trelin it would have to be.
“But I tell you, the signs are there. Something is going on. Many Draakon Reaver ships in the Turquoise Sea but few attacks anywhere, grain heading east and little word coming back from our spies in Graswyn. It all points to a possibility of the Empress Martine making war again.”
General de Fries’ ears pricked up at the information Cristal offered.
Baldin coughed and Willem to his right smirked behind his hand before commenting. Cristal privately thought of him as a weasel.
“I think you are over reacting Cristal. Martine has been fairly quiet for a while.”
“Quiet! What do you call the abduction of the Prince and Princess of Barsoom?”
Willem spoke quietly. “We can apply a little pressure and negotiate for their return. Perhaps offer her some aid here or there.”
“Cristal’s right about the Draakon Reavers and it worries me.” Cradon’s comment was timely, as a ship owner he had lost many cargoes to the pirates in the past. They didn’t sink the ships, just sent them back empty to be refilled with more future plunder. However, when the Draakon reaved the seashore it was a different story, they killed unreservedly.
“My Captains report seeing many of the black ships with their red sails, out to sea, heading east. Why? Is there some sort of alliance going on? That’s what I want to know.”
He sat back in his chair breathing heavily from his outburst. It was Kirta’s turn to have some input.
“Some of you’rn not involved with makin’ an ‘onest livin’ don’t see what some of us other’ns do. There ain’t bin one Graswyn fishin’ boat in our ‘arbour for nigh on a two week. It’n be usual to ‘ave two or three a week, mebe more sometimes. Summats afoot. Cristal’s not a silly un and she sees stuff you uns don’t.”
For Kirta, it was a long speech. Finished, she sat back in her seat glaring around the table, arms folded across her matronly bosom.
Unexpectedly, the foppish Bertran added to the comments in his rather archly cultured voice.
“Here’s another. Not one Cheshwon ship has arrived in two months and not one ship sent to Cheshwon has returned so far. No news at all. This has potential to seriously impinge upon my finances I say.”
It was the soft unctuous voice sliding into the gap in the discourse which made more than a few ears prick up. Merdon had something to offer. He was giving, not taking. Cristal tuned in to him through some of the other Council member’s rude whisperings.
“The border with Graswyn has been closed to any coming out without a pass. Sure, grain is going in, the older stuff from the back of the granaries, as room is made for the coming harvest, along with some other items of trade but not much is coming out. Including information. I have intelligence.”
Merdon waved his hand in mock surrender in the general direction of the Chief of the Guard.
“Don’t bother asking, I have no idea where it came from, officially. A couple of daring lads did a bit of thieving in Graswyn and thought they had better leave because things were warming up. They travelled cross country and are now in Belvedere. They spoke of a lot more army units spread around the countryside over there. In fact they were just lucky enough to miss a couple. Why would there be more army units than usual in Graswyn if nothing is going on?”
Old Baldin banged his gavel once or twice. He loved banging his gavel. It gave him a sense of authority.
“Do we have a motion?”
Cristal responded immediately. “I motion that we stop supplies leaving Southland and start storing foodstuffs.”
“Seconded?”
“Aye.”
They voted and passed the motion.
“Any more business?” Old Baldin asked. “I would like to go home soon.”
Trelin, the widow of the deceased army commander spoke up. Normally she said little, just sitting and doing embroidery while the council met but her beloved Belvedere was possibly at risk.
“I think the army should immediately start training some new recruits and brush up on its fighting skills. What is your opinion General?”
Trelin smiled in Jorgen’s direction.
Jorgen de Fries was now on the spot. It was his first challenge at showing leadership and he grasped it.
“We have a force of four and a half thousand at the moment, down a thousand from the days we defended Belvedere and western Southland from the Domi
nion all those years ago. At that time the Empress initially managed to take the eastern half of Southland, containing most of the best farms, during the last Dominion expansion but because she attacked in Spring, her army couldn’t hold onto it because they ran out of food. If there is trouble coming I would definitely like to increase the number of men at arms.”
“Can we afford that?” Willem asked in general.
“We bloody well have to.” Cradon replied. “Money can be made available in the short term.”
Smiling sweetly, Trelin’s gentle voice again questioned the General. “What’s your assessment of the danger General?”
The Commander in Chief looked uncomfortable.
“Madam, as you know, I’ve only held this position for a short time. I have not yet had the opportunity to talk to all of my staff officers, particularly those from the border region of Graswyn, so I’m not fully informed at the moment. However, it’s my belief trouble is fomenting. The Empress is a very clever and ruthless ruler and there are just too many strange goings on occurring at one time for my liking. An extra thousand men should be enough for our army and they will require swords. I believe there are about that many in the armoury.”
Callandor, who not surprisingly acted as official armourer, nodded. “That’s about all there is. I suggest we recruit soon so the new men can be sufficiently trained to defend us properly.”
Old Baldin banged his gavel again. “Can we have a motion please?”
Callandor proposed it. “I motion that the armed forces be increased by one thousand men.”
“Seconded?”
“Aye”
Another vote was taken which was also carried. Cristal was secretly pleased with the outcome. It was much better than she had originally hoped for.
It was getting late, so official Council business was finished with and the Councillors rose and left the chamber. On the way out Cristal lingered and had a quiet word with Merdon.
The Ring Of Truth Page 34