by John F. Carr
Were it not for Lysandros’ seal on his letter, Sthentros doubted they would have arrived at all. He’d seen the avaricious looks aimed at his princely garments and the appraisal done by knowing eyes.
This madman Roxthar must be stopped before I have nothing left, he told himself.
As they drove through the outskirts of Hostigos Town, he was appalled by the sights that met his eyes. He had hoped beyond reason that the Styphoni had left his future seat intact. Even carrion birds keep their nests dean, he thought. However, the farms they passed were knocked down or burnt, their fields left untended with crops ridden into the ground. He prayed that things would improve when they reached Hostigos Town proper.
As the carriage entered the town, he saw it was not to be. Many of the buildings were still standing, but most of the facades had been stripped of wood to fuel the Grand Host’s insatiable appetite for firewood. As the coach drove through the streets, he saw work parties disassembling houses and stores, throwing lumber on huge wagons and carts. At this rate, all of Hostigos Town will be stripped to its foundation within a moon!, he railed to himself. He wanted to stick his head out the window and order these varlets to stop pillaging his town, but he was afraid of these wild-eyed soldiers who’d feasted on Hostigos’ bones for moons. They looked more like bandits than soldiers to his eyes.
Sthentros suspected these men would have no compunction about stopping the carriage and pulling its passengers out, robbing and killing them on the spot. The carriage was hushed; the three friends to whom he’d granted Hostigi baronies looked frightened and shocked by the sights that met their eyes. His daughter Lavena looked bored. “When are we going to get to the palace, father?” she asked.
“Soon. We’re almost to Palace Road. I’m hoping that King Lysandros will let us stay at the Palace until he returns to Harphax City.”
She snorted. “Of course, he will.” She almost preened. “All I want to know is when he’s going to marry me officially. I can already see myself as Great Queen of Hos-Harphax--and cousin Rylla thought she was the grand one!”
“By the looks of it, that probably won’t be for awhile, my dear.” Lavena was spoiled and petulant, but she was ruthless about getting her own way. He loved and indulged her because she was his only child and the spitting image of her Aunt Demia, who’d been the love of his life. Had he been Prince of Hostigos, Demia would have been his wife, instead of marrying that hayseed Ptosphes.
Boar Lane was blocked by wreckage; it looked like a supply wagon had crashed into a carriage with broken barrels and boxes scattered across the road. High Street was clean and the carriage turned left up the hill toward the palace. Tranth’s Hall was still standing, a good sign. Some of the businesses, mostly inns and taverns and brothels, were still open and there were people on the streets, mostly scurrying about quickly as if afraid of drawing attention to themselves. I’m going to have to put a firm stop to this insane Investigation.
As he stepped out of the carriage in the public square, Sthentros looked up at the Palace, realizing that it looked nowhere as grand as he’d imagined. Everything about Hostigos Town was small and dingy, even after discounting the war damage. Living in Harphax City had changed his perspective forever. Turning this backwater town into a major city was going to be the work of a lifetime. The first job would have to be a complete restoration and rebuilding of the Palace.
Even before that, however, he would have to see Great King Lysandros and demand that this horrid Investigation be brought to a halt. He’d met Roxthar himself and the Archpriest seemed like a reasonable man. Maybe the problem was that no one had treated him as an equal. Everyone said such horrible things about him behind his back, it was bound to make him suspicious and bad-tempered. He knew how to deal with those types.
After all, wasn’t his daughter engaged to a Great King? It wouldn’t have happened, if he hadn’t been there to orchestrate it. Lavena, for all her virtues, was too quick to answer love’s summons. He’d had to coach her and order her to play the temptress. It had worked, too. It hadn’t hurt that the new Great King was anxious to produce an heir to cement his reign over Hos-Harphax.
They were met at the gate by one of the Palace stewards.
“I’m Prince Sthentros of Hostigos and I seek an audience with my Great King.”
“I’m sorry, Your Highness, but I am under strict orders to admit no one. Not even Roxthar himself, can cross this threshold.” There were two big halberdiers standing behind him, with expressions that made it obvious they knew their job.
Sthentros knew how to approach these petty functionaries. He gave the man his most ingratiating smile. “Our great friend, King Lysandros, probably does not know of our arrival. It was requested by the King himself. He wants to see his fiancée.”
The word “fiancée” got the steward’s attention.
“Please come into the antechamber. You can wait there while I inform His Majesty that you have arrived. How would you like to be announced?”
“Prince Sthentros of Hostigos and his daughter, the Princess Lavena. That will do.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” the steward said as he bowed, then quickly scurried away. His guests appeared impressed.
It took most of the afternoon before the steward returned and by then even Sthentros’ enthusiasm had waned. Things will be a lot different once Lysandros is gone and out of my life!
Lavena, who could make herself comfortable anywhere like a kitten, was curled up on one of the marble benches. One of his retainers had given her his fur cloak to rest upon, not surprising her father in the least. Men always scurried to win her favor.
The steward looked self-important and had a twinkle in his eye, indicating that he’d enjoyed his visitors’ discomfiture. Sthentros made a mental note to learn if the steward had purposely kept Lysandros in the dark about their arrival. If so, he’d personally see to it that someday the churl got the whipping he deserved!
“Come with me, Your Highness. You too, Princess.” When the others started to rise from their benches, he shook his head. “The rest of you can wait for your Prince.”
Lysandros was in the private audience chamber seated on a throne formerly belonging to Prince Ptosphes. I never liked that bumpkin, Ptosphes, but he did have more manners than this Great King.
Lysandros rose to his feet, opened his arms and waited for Lavena to fall into them. He whispered some endearments into her ear and then offered her a seat. Meanwhile, Sthentros was left waiting while they talked for a quarter of a candle, stifling every yawn and the urge to throw a screaming fit. With his luck of late, it might end with him in the Palace dungeon.
Finally, the King looked up and said, “Welcome, Prince, to your new lands.”
He did his best to ignore the irony of the King’s welcome. “I’m glad to finally be here, Your Majesty. However, it appears that Archpriest Roxthar’s enthusiasm to rid Hostigos of heresy and non-believers has completely depopulated the Princedom!” He hadn’t meant for his voice to grow so strident, but he was still in a state of shock after his journey through the former Kingdom of Hos-Hostigos.
“You’ll have to talk to the Investigator about that. I’m sure he’d welcome the opportunity to learn your opinions concerning his labors on Styphon’s behalf.” Lysandros all but guffawed at the last. Even Lavena had to gulp down a chuckle.
Then the Great King drew himself up, and his face hardened. “You’d best mind your own business when it comes to the Temple’s work, or you’re liable to find yourself under Investigation.”
“Roxthar has that much authority?” He couldn’t help that his voice squeaked.
“You are a former Hostigi, are you not?”
“Yes, but--”
“Then you are subject to Investigation, regardless of what services you have done for the Throne or for Styphon’s House. I suggest you not try Roxthar s patience, better yet, try to avoid him at all costs.”
Sthentros shivered. He didn’t consider himself a coward; he had fought as a C
aptain at the Battle of Fyk. He didn’t like fighting, but he didn’t run from it either--although some envious courtiers labeled him a coward when he declined to serve after Fyk. However, for all his faults, King Kalvan had graciously accepted his resignation and allowed him to purchase the services of a younger and more martial captain to serve his feudal obligations. Maybe Kalvan--despite his ignorance and outlander ways--was not the worst of sovereigns.
“But, do as you like. Lavena and I are to be married tomorrow; there is no need to wait upon my return to Harphax City. There are other plans in motion that might require my absence from the Capital for an extended period of time. It is now time to put my thoughts to the future,” the King finished, looking at Lavena with lust in his eyes.
Sthentros shuddered. His daughter appeared flattered and was encouraging the King! What was a father to do? He had to remember that having the Great King for a son-in-law would guarantee his crown for life. And, if by some chance, his daughter should come to be with child and carried the King’s heir; well, he might find himself the second-most powerful man in all of Hos-Harphax. Certainly, this unpopulated, impoverished and ruined Princedom wasn’t going to do a thing for his social standing.
EIGHT
Kalvan was growing tired and thirsty. Vanar Halgoth, the Captain of his Tymannian Guard, had been tutoring him in Urgothi for over two hours. Word had reached him that Tortha the Trader’s ship had finally arrived and he was working with Vanar to pass the time until he arrived. With Styphon’s Grand Host at his back and a refugee population over a half a million strong and growing daily, it was becoming obvious that he and his Hostigi subjects were soon going to be moving westward. Since Urgothi was the lingua franca of the Middle Kingdoms, Kalvan had been taking language lessons for the past moon.
In high school, he’d studied three years of German as part of his college preparation for the ministry; his father had raised him to be his successor at his small Altoona parish. He’d had a gift for languages and taken another two semesters of German at Princeton. After he dropped out of Princeton, he had joined the US Army and fought in Korea until the war ended. He had been deployed to Germany for a year after the Korean Armistice. There he became fluent in German; unfortunately, Urgothi was about as close to modern German as the Anglo-Saxon of Beowulf was to modern English.
With another moon of hard work, he’d be able to speak it reasonably well--if not like a native. Rylla was resisting his efforts to have her and baby Demia, who was now beginning to talk up a storm, learn Urgothi. He’d even hired a local Urgothi resident as a maid for Rylla to help her learn. Rylla was still convinced they were going to return to Hostigos after the Grand Host departed--fat chance!
She didn’t want her baby to learn a foreign language that she would never use. Kalvan was slowly convincing her that the more languages Demia spoke the better a ruler she’d be, on the off-chance that there was no male offspring. That argument was finally taking hold, Praise Dralm.
Language lessons were thirsty work and between the two of them they had finished off a small cask of ale. While Kalvan had limited himself to two goblets, he’d lost count of Halgoth’s intake. The giant Urgothi warrior was big enough to have made linebacker for the Steelers. He also had a bottomless pit for a stomach. He gave his bell pull a yank.
“Cleon?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Any further word on when Trader Tortha will be arriving?”
“No, Sire. I’ll send one of the pages, Aspasthar--Oh, I forgot, he’s now in charge of the cadets. I’m sure I can find another page in the kitchen.”
“Please, do so.”
Cleon left the Great King’s audience room, which had once been Prince Kestophes’ private chamber. For now it was the acting headquarters for the Great Kingdom of Hos-Hostigos--or the rump kingdom consisting of three Princedoms of Kyblos, Nyklos and Ulthor. And, maybe not for long once the Grand Host of Styphon went on the offensive.
For the life of me, why are they still stalled outside Hostigos Town?--if that’s what it is still called, Kalvan asked himself. He’d heard rumors that Lysandros had renamed Hostigos Town and was now calling it Lysandros Town, after himself.
As rumors went, it had credibility on its side since Lysandros’ ego was big enough to make such an act of self-aggrandizement believable; still, for Kalvan’s money’s worth, it was just a bit too pat. Besides, what would the new Prince of Hostigos, Baron Sthentros, have to say about it? Quite a bit, knowing Sthentros. Find a way to eliminate that traitor!’Then after a moment’s reflection, he decided that the next despot Lysandros appointed Prince of Hostigos might not be so vain and arrogant; he might even prepare for their return. Nix that!
What he needed was somebody in Hostigos Town to watch over his interests. Duke Skranga, who was stirring up mischief in Hos-Bletha, would not be available for another assignment for a long time. Colonel Ranthar had asserted that the Duke was essential to their mission in Bletha in his last dispatch. Furthermore, Skranga was too well-known in Hostigos and Hos-Harphax to be an effective agent; he knew next to nothing about affairs in the Upper Middle Kingdoms. However, he could get things done like no one else. Note: Find a good agent to replace Duke Skranga.
“Cleon, please bring my guest another cask of ale and me a cup of hot chicory.”
Halgoth yawned mightily, blowing out three oil lamps in the process. “Your Majesty, I’m not used to talking so much. You’re getting a lot better with my tongue. I need to sleep off this ale.”
“Of course, Vanar. You may retire to your chambers.”
“Thank you, Sire.”
“I’ll still have my tea,” he said as Cleon began removing the empty cask and goblets. Yes, hire.
When Cleon exited the room, Kalvan looked at the new deerskin map nailed to the chamber wall where he could openly study it. This map displayed the Upper Middle Kingdoms--what he had known back in otherwhen as the Great Lakes States. The map was dotted with cities, towns and villages; it was more densely populated than even Hos-Agrys. The borders of Grefftscharr were in red and included almost half the map; however, many of the princedoms, like Thagnor, were only loosely allied to Greffa.
Presently, there were seven Grefftscharri Princedoms, although Lyros was a subject of the Kingdom of Grefftscharr in name only. At the time the Iron Trail was in operation, Ult Greffa (Duluth) had been the capital of Grefftscharr. To the north of the old capital, Greffa included all the iron-mining regions of Minnesota (the Mesabi and Vermilion Ranges). To the east it included the copper-mining Keweenaw peninsula of Michigan. Note: find out from Tortha if the Grejftscharrers have mined the copper in the Keweenaw peninsula?
The northern shore of the Zaffryth Sea (Lake Superior), being part of the inhospitable Canadian Shield, was vacant except for some mining camps and not part of Grefftscharr, which left it to the local Ruthani and Urgothi barbarian tribes.
The next oldest possession was Helmout, the upper Mississippi with its capital, Helmout City, at Minneapolis-St. Paul, head of navigation on the Great Mother River (Mississippi). Interestingly, this Princedom was oriented east-west, its main concern being the movement of trade between Ult-Greffa/Zaffryth Sea to the east and the Raudnyr (Red) River to the west. To the south, the Princedom of Helmout bordered on Dorg.
The Princedom of Rhinnar included the Kemfryth Sea (Lake Winnipeg, which the Urgothi and Zarthani considered one of the six Saltless Seas) which was considerably larger than Lake Ontario and just slightly smaller than Lake Michigan. Rhinnar City was located on the Kemfryth Sea, at the mouth of the Red River. This Princedom was responsible for the Lake of the Woods land route to Ult-Greffa for portages/canals on the un-navigable lower stretch of the Raudnyr River (Red River), between the city of Kemfryth (Winnipeg), Manitoba and the Lake itself. On the northeast, Rhinnar extended to the Cobfryth Sea (Hudson Bay) for the fur trade. On the west, beyond Lake Manitoba, it controlled as much of the Saskatchewan River as it wished, which wasn’t much. The borders of the Princedom were fairly c
lose to those of the Province of Manitoba.
The Princedom of Brythar controlled all of the Raudnyr (Red) River territory south of Kemfryth City. Brythar was responsible for the land route to the Wyssel (Missouri) River, which followed the Velfryn (Sheyenne) River valley and reached the Wyssel north of Ovyng (Bismark), about where the Wyssel made its turn from flowing east to flowing south. With the small remaining traffic on the Iron Trail, there was little interest in the Velfryn valley route, which was mostly left to local tribes, although Brythar claimed control all the way to the Wyssel. Brythar City was on the Red River, near Fargo/Morehead.
Thagnor was a Grefftscharr vassal only in name. Prince Varrack was the latest in a series of pirate princes who ruled at their own whim, rather than the dictates of the Grefftscharrer kings. Thagnor controlled the passage between the Sea of Hassfryth (Lake Huron) and the Aesklos Sea (Lake Erie). Thagnor owned the salt mines of Thagnor City and claimed suzerainty over Gytha Town (Windsor, Ontario). Thagnor was notorious for its undisciplined politics, to put it mildly. It owned southeastern Michigan up to Fyttandlan Bay (Saginaw Bay) to the border with Zykthos, which was between the City of Karphya (Alpena) and Thagnor.
The Princedom of Zykthos was semi-independent, being claimed by Vulthar, Thagnor, and on alternate Thursdays by King Theovacar, and played off all three against each other. Politics in the Princedom of Zykthos were almost as interesting as those of Thaphigos of Hos-Harphax.
The Princedom of Greffa was the home of Greffa City (Chicago), the capital city of the Kingdom of Grefftscharr. Greffa was sometimes called Neu-Greffa. The Kings of Grefftscharr were always Princes of Greffa first. Greffa controlled the southern end of the Sea of Galfryth (Lake Michigan), the portage from the Chicago River to the Illinois River. It also controlled the Kankakee River and by treaty with Morthron the Erkfryn River (Maumee River).