by John Norman
My attention was then returned to the meeting of the council of captains. A motion was on the floor that a new preserve in the northern forests be obtained, that more timber for the arsenal be available. In the northern forests Port Kar already had several such perserves. There is a ceremony in the establishment of such a perserve, involving proclamations and the surrounds of trumpets. Such preserves are posted, surrounded by ditches to keep out cattle and unlicensed wagoners. There are wardens who watch the trees, guarding against illegal cutting and pasturage, and inspectors who, each year, tally and examine them. The wardens are also responsible, incidentally, for managing and improving the woods. They do such work as thinning and planting, and trimming, and keeping the protective ditch in repair. They are also responsibel for bending and fastening certain numbers of young trees so that tey will grow into desired shapes, usually to be used for frames, and stem and sternposts. Individual trees, not in the perserves, which are claimed by Port Kar, are marked with the seal of the arsenal. The location of all such trees is kept in a book available to the Council of Captains. These preserves are usually located near rivers, in order to facilitate bringing cut trees to the sea. Trees may also be purchased from the Forest People, who will cut them in the winter, when they can be dragged on sleds to the sea. If there is a light snowfall in a given year, the price of timber is often higher. Port Kar is, incidentally, completely dependent on the northern timber. Tur wood is used for galley frames, and beams and clamps and posts, and for hull planking; Ka-la-na serves for capstans and mastheads; Tem-wood for rudders and oars; and the needle trees, teh evergreens, for masts and spars, and cabin and deck planking.
The motion to obtain a new preserve carried. I abstained from voting, not having been convinced that a new preserve was needed. I supposed it might be, but I did not know; i had not been convinced; so I had abstained.
But why should Cos and Tyros come against Port Kar at this time? But it was a rumor, I reminded myself again, forcibly, a rumor, a baseless rumor. I was angry. I again forced the thought from my mind.
I now had the means whereby I might purchase yet two more ships for my fleet. They would be deep-keeled round ships, with mighty holds, and high, broad sails. I had alread, to a great extent, selected crews. I had projected voyages for them to Ianda and to Torvaldsland. Each would be escorted by a medium galley. They would bring me, I conjecture, much riches.
I took the note from the boy, who appeared suddenly beside my chair. He had long hair, and wore a tunic of red and yellow silk. I recognized him, he being a page of the council.
The note, folded, was sealed with a disk of melted wax. The wax did not bear the imprint of a signet ring.
I opened it.
The message was simple. It read, printed it block letters: I WOULD SPEAK WITH YOU. It was signed, also in block printing, SAMOS.
I crumpled the paper in my fist.
"Who gave you this message?" I asked the boy.
"A man," he said. "I do not know him."
I saw Lysias, with his helmet, with the two golden slashes, with its captain's crest of sleen hair, on the arm of his curule chair. He was looking at me, curiously.
I did not know if the message truly came from Samos, or not.
If it did, doubtless he had come to learn that Tarl Cabot was now in Port Kar. But how would he have come to know this? And how could he have come to understand that Bosk, fighting man and merchant, was the same as he who once had been a warrior of the towered city of Ko-ro-ba, the Towers of the Morning? Doubtless he wished to summon me to his presence, that he might recall me to the service of Priest-Kings.
But I no longer served Priest-Kings. I served now only myself.
I was angry.
I would ignore the message.
At that moment a man burst into the hall in which was sitting the Council of Captains.
His eyes were wild.
It was Henrak, who had worn the white scarf, who had betrayed the rencers. "The arsenal!" he cried. "The arsenal is afire!"
11 The Crest of Sleen Hair
The Captains leaped from their chairs, crying out. Great chairs fell bounding down the tiers of the council chamber. The Scribe at the table before the thrones was on his feet shouting. Papers were scattering to the floor. Feet were pounding toward the great double door, leading to the hallway beyond, leading out to the tiled piazza fronting on the hall of the council. I saw pages scurrying about, in their red and yellow silk. Ink had spilled on the great table.
Then I saw that Lysias, with the captain's crest of sleen hair on his helmet, had not stirred from his chair.
And I saw, too, that the Scribe who normally sat his attendance at the right arm of the empty throne of Henrius Sevarius, the Fifth, in the council chamber was gone.
Outside, in the distance, through the great door, flung open, I heard cries of alarm, and the clash of weapons.
Then I saw Lysias, his hair tied behind his neck with the scarlet string, rise. He placed on his head his helmet.
He unsheathed his weapon.
So, too, did my steel leave its sheath.
But Lysias then, weapon at the ready, backed away, and then turned and fled through a side door, leading from the council hall.
I looked about.
A small fire was burning to one side, where a lamp with candle had been knocked to the floor, in the rush toward the door.
Chairs lay knocked over, furniture was broken. The floor was covered with papers.
The scribe at the central table, that before the empty thrones, stood numb behind the table.
Other scribes came and stood with him, looking from one to the other. To one side, cowering, stood several of the page boys.
Then, staggering, bloody, the quarrel of a crossbow protruding from the emblem on his velvet tunic, a captain reeled into the room and fell, clutching at the arm of one of the curule chairs. Then, behind him, in the groups of four and five, crying out, many bleeding from wounds, weapons brandished, and sometimes bloodied, there came those captains who could.
I went to the place before the thrones.
I indicated the small fire burning to one side, that which had been caused by the fallen lamp with candle. "Put it out," I told two of the frightened pages. I resheathed my sword.
The two pages leapt to do my bidding.
"Gather up and guard the book of the Council," I told the Scribe who had been at the great table.
"Yes, Captain," said he, leaping to seize it up.
I then, throwing papers to the floor, scattering ink, lifted the great table over my head.
There were cries of astonishment.
I turned and, step by step, carrying the great table, advanced toward the large door leading to the hallway.
More captains, their back to the room, fighting, falling, were retreating through the door.
They were the last of the captains.
Over their heads in the doorway I flung the great table.
Its great weight, to screams of horror, fell crushing upon men who, with shields and swords, were closely pressing the captains.
I saw, wide with horr in the apertures of their helmets, the eyes of men pinned beneath its beams.
"Bring curule chairs!" I ordered the captains.
Though many were wounded, though all could scarcely stand, they leaped to gather up chairs and hurl them into the doorway.
Crossbow bolts flashed through the chairs, splintering their backs and sides. "More tables!" I cried.
Men, and scribes, and pages, too, came forward, four and six men to a table, adding the tables ot our barricade.
From the outside some men tried to climb the barricade, and break it down. On its height they met Bosk, in his hands the wine-tempered steel of a Ko-ro-ban blade.
Four men fell reeling backward, tumbling down the chairs and tables. Crossbow bolts flashed about my head.
I laughed, and leaped down. No more men were trying to climb the wood of the barricade.
"Can you hold t
his door?" I asked the captains, and the scribes and pages there. "We will," they said.
I gestured to the side door, through which Lysias and, I assumed, he who had been scribe for Henrius Sevarius, had escaped. Several of the pages, incidentally, and some of the scribes had also fled through that door. "Secure that door," I told four of the captains.
Immediately they went to the door, calling scribes and pages to help. I myself, taking with me two captains, went to a rear corner of the great chamber, whence, via a spiraling stairwell, the roof of the hall of council might be attained.
We soon found ourselves on the sloping roof of the hall of the council, shielded and turrets and decorative embrasures at its edge.
From there, in the late afternoon sun, we could see smoke from the wharves and arsenal to the west.
"There are no ships from Cos or Tyros in the harbor," said one of the captains standing near me.
I had seen this.
I indicated wharves. "Those wharves," I said, "are those of Chung and Eteocles?" "Yes," said one of the captains.
"And those," I asked, indicating other wharves, farther to the south, "are those of Nigel and Sullius Maximus."
"Yes," said the other captain.
"Doubtless there is fighting there," said the first captain.
"And along the wharves generally," said the second.
"It seems," I said, "that the holdings of Henrius Sevarius, patron of the captain Lysias, are untouched."
"It does indeed," said the first captain, through gritted teeth.
Below in the streets we heard trumpets. Men were shouting.
We saw some waving banners, bearing the design of the house of Sevarius. They were trying to urge men into the streets to support them.
"Henrius Sevarius," they were crying, "Ubar of Port Kar."
"Sevarius is proclaiming himself Ubar," said the first captain.
"Or Cladius, his regent," said the other.
We were joined by another captain. "It is quiet now below," he said. "Look there," I said. I pointed down to some of the canals, cutting between the buildings. Slowly, moving smoothly, there oars dipping in rhythm, from various sides, we saw tarn ships moving toward the hall of the council.
"And there!" cried another captain, pointing to the streets.
There we saw crossbowmen fleeing, in lines along the edges of the buildings. Some men-at-arms were joining them.
"It appears," said one of the captains at my side, "that Henrius Sevarius in not yet Ubar of Port Kar."
At the far edge of the piazza, in one of the bordering canals, nosing forward to take a berth between two tiled piers, we saw a ram-ship, medium class. Her mast, with its long yard, was lashed to the deck. Doubtless her sail was stored below. These are the arrangements when a galley moves through the city, or when she enters battle. On a line running from the forward starboard mooring cleat to the stem castle, furnishing cover for archers and spearmen, there flew a flag, snapping in the wind. It was white with vertical green stripes on its field and, over these, in black, the head of a Bosk.
I could see, even at the distance, leaping from the prow of the ship to the tiles of the piazza, running across the large, oblique-looking, colored squares toward the Hall of the Council of Captains, the great Thurnock, with his yellow bow, followed by Clitus, with his net and trident, and by Tab, with my men. "Estimate for me," I said, "the damage to the arsenal,"
"It appears," said one, "to be the lumber sheds and the dry docks." "The warehouses of pitch and that of oars, too," said the other.
"Yes," said the first. "I think so."
"There is little wind," said another.
I was not dissatisfied. I was confident that the men of the arsenal, in their hundreds, almost to the count of two thousand, would, given the opportunity, control the fire. Fire has always been regarded as the great hazard to the arsenal. Accordingly many of her warehouses, shops and foundries are built of stone, with slated or tinned roofs. Wooden structures, such as her numerous sheds and roofed storage areas tend to be separated from one another. Within the arsenal itself there are numerous basins, providing a plenitude of water. Many of these basins, near which, in red-painted wooden boxes, are stored large numbers of folded leather buckets, are expressly for the purpose of providing a means for fighting fires. Some of the other basins are large enough to float galleys; these large basins connect with the arsenal's canal system, by means of which heavy materials may be conveyed about the arsenal; the arsenal's canal system also gives access, at two points, to the canal system of the city and, at tow other points, to the Tamber Gulf, beyond which lies gleaming Thassa. Each of these four points are guarded by great barred gates. The large basins, just mentioned, are of two types: the first, unroofed, is used for the underwater storage and seasoning of Tur wood; the second, roofed, serves for heavier fittings and upper carpentry of ships, and for repairs that do not necessitate recourse to the roofed dry docks.
Already it seemed to me there was less smoke, less fire, from the areas of the arsenal.
The wharves of Chung, Eteocles, Nigel and Sullius Maximus, I conjectured, from the blazings along the waterfront on the west and south, would not fare well. The fires at the arsenal, I supposed, may have been even, primarily, a diversion. They had surely served to draw the captains of Port Kar into the ambush prepared for them outside the hall of council. I supposed Henrius Sevarius might not have wished to seriously harm the arsenal. Could he come to be the Ubar of Port Kar, it would constitute a considerable element of his wealth, indeed, the major one.
I, and the three other captains, stood on the sloping roof of the hall of the council and watched the ships burning the wharves.
"I am going to the arsenal," I said. I turned to one of the captains. "Have scribes investigate and prepare reports on the extent of the damage, wherever it exists. Also have captains ascertain the military situation in the city. And have patrols doubled, and extend their perimeters by fifty pasangs." "But surely Cos and Tyros-" said one of the Captains.
"Have the patrols doubled, and extend their perimeters by fifty pasangs," I repeated.
"It will be done," he said.
I turned to another man.
"Tonight," I said, "the council must meet again."
"It cannot-" he protested.
"At the twentieth hour," I told him.
"I will send pages through the city with torches," he said.
I looked out over the city, at the arsenal, at the burning wharves on the west and south.
"And summon the four captains," I said, "who are Chung, Eteocles, Nigel and Sullius Maximus."
"The Ubars!" cried a captain.
"The captains," I said. "Send for them only a single page with guard, with his torch. Summon them as captains."
"But they are Ubars," the man whispered.
I pointed to the burning wharves.
"If they do not come," I told him, "tell them they will no longer be captains in the eyes of the council."
The captains looked at me.
"It is the council," I said, "that is now the first power in Port Kar." The captains looked at one another, and nodded.
"It is true," said one of them.
The power of the captains had been little diminished. The coup intended to destroy them,swift as the falling of the assassin's blade, had failed. Escaping into and barricading themselves within the hall of the Council, most had saved themselves. Others, fortunately as it had turned out for them, had not even been in attendance at the meeting. The ships of the captains were usually moored, beyond this, within the city, in the mooring lakes fronting on their holdings and walled. And those who had used the open wharves did not seem to have suffered damage.
The only wharves fired were apparently those of the four Ubars.
I looked out over the harbor, and over the muddy Tamber to the gleaming vastness beyond, my Thassa.
At any given time most of the ships of Port Kar are at sea. Five of mine were, at present, at sea. Two were in th
e city, to be supplied. The ships of the captains, returning, would further guarantee their power in the city, their crews being applicable where the captains might choose. To be sure, many of the ships of the Ubars were similarly at sea, but men pretending to the Ubarate of Port Kar commonly keep a far larger percentage of their power in port than would a common captain. I expected the power of the four Ubars, Chung, Eteocles, Nigel and Sullius Maximus, might have been, at a stroke, diminished by half. If so, they might control, among themselves, a force of about one hundred and fifty ships, most of which were still at sea. I did not expect the Ubars would cooperate with one another. Further, if necessary, the council of captains, with its power, might intercept and impound their ships, as they returned, one by one. I had long felt that five Ubars in Port Kar, and the attendant anarchy resulting from this division of power, was politically insufferable, with its competition of extortions, taxes and decrees, but more importantly, I felt that it jeopardized my own interests. I intended, in Port Kar, to accumulate fortunes and power. As my projects developed I had no wish to suffer for not having applied for client-hood to one Ubar or another. I did not wish to have to be sue for the protection of a strong man. I preferred to be my own. Accordingly I wished for the council to consolidate its power in the city. It seemed that now, with the failure of the coup of Henrius Sevarius, and the diminishment of the power of the other Ubars, she might well do so. The council, I expected, itself composed of captains, men much like myself, would provide a political structure within which my ambitions and projects might well prosper. Nominally beneath its aegis, I might, for all practical purposes, be free to augment my house as I saw fit, the House of Bosk, of Port Kar.