by John F. Carr
Arminta punched him in the arm hard enough that it hurt. “I’m not that important.”
“Your modesty is one of the things I love about you, darling. The truth is that Queen Lavena is a young lady in a hostile court, who doesn’t know anyone, let alone who’s important and who’s not. Her husband, who is anything but popular, is a thousand marches away--and may not return alive. She needs all the friends and support she can garner. This was a good place for her to make an appearance: Lavena knew that she’d receive a warm welcome from you, that all the important nobles and ladies in Hos-Harphax would be in attendance and that she could appear gracious by giving you that expensive necklace--and cement her ties to us.”
“Indeed, my love! Once could purchase a barony for the price of the diamonds and emeralds in that lovely piece.”
“Exactly. I’m certain that was Lavena’s plan. Every princess, duchess and baroness in attendance was drooling over it! Now, they’ll all be conspiring to win her grace and invite her to family weddings and Name Day celebrations in hopes of a similar gift.”
Arminta’s face was stricken. “Now, I feel like I’ve been used.”
“Don’t look at it that way darling. It’s just politics as usual. It comes as natural to Lavena as stalking a mouse is to a cat. You’re the unique one in the Harphaxi Court, my love. You actually enjoy helping people and doing things to make the world a better place. In doing so, you also bring out the best in other people.”
“Well, that makes me feel better.” She gave him a hug.
“Good, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’ve grown accustomed to being a cynical bachelor. Looking out for someone else is new to me.”
“Well, you’re getting better at it, my husband.”
He bowed.
“Have you found a place yet to quarter the army?”
“No. I want to stay far away from Thaphigos Town and that bore Zylannos. He was drunk before the wedding, during and after! If he’d put his hands upon your little brother once more, I would have had to pummel him into the next moon!”
“Zylannos is disgusting; I can’t believe King Lysandros crowned him a Prince. I must admit, my father hadn’t succumbed to your charms until you grabbed that pederast by the scruff of his neck and took him off to the stairway for a good talk. Now, my father believes the sun and moon revolve around you and is telling everyone what a wonderful and powerful son-in-law he has.”
“When I saw your father grasping his dagger hilt, I decided it was time to act. I didn’t want anything to mar our wedding, or put your father any higher on Lysandros’ enemy list.”
Arminta nodded. “You’re right, bloodshed would have ruined the celebration. But will humiliating Zylannos in public cause you any difficulties in carrying out King Lysandros’ orders?”
“Lysandros ordered me to remove the Agrysi threat; that happened the moment word arrived in Thaphigos that I was in the area with an army. At this moment, there are no more Agrysi soldiers in Thaphigos, or Hos-Harphax for that matter. He also ordered me to protect his interests in this area. The King, however, did not ask me to refrain from putting his errant Prince in his proper place.”
“Will Prince Zylannos be able to rule once we’ve returned to Greater Beshta?” she asked.
“Now that the Agrysi forces have left, there’s no one inside Thaphigos who offers any real military threat to his rule. After twenty winters of incessant warfare, most of the castles are in ruins and many of the peasants have starved or fled. The people of Thaphigos would accept Hadron himself as a ruler if it meant an end to warfare. Furthermore, these days I don’t believe even Kalvan himself could raise three thousand able-bodied fighting men in the whole Princedom! And I don’t want to camp anywhere near the border, either.”
“Afraid we might get embroiled in the warfare in Hos-Agrys?”
“Yes. We’ve already learned from our agents that Soton and his army have set sail from Thebra City for Agrys City. If Soton gets into trouble besieging Agrys City and asks for my help, I’ll have a hard time refusing him if I’m only a day or two’s ride away. I have no desire to support Soton or Styphon’s House. If Roxthar has his way, he’ll turn Hos-Agrys into another Hos-Hostigos. And I refuse to be a part of that.”
“We could stay here in Argros. My father has given us a border tarr as part of my dowry, Tarr-Dodra. It’s an old castle and needs to be refurbished but with some work it would hold our army through summer. It’s on a hill and it’s only a two-day’s ride to Thaphigos.”
“A great idea! Is this it here?” he asked, pointing to the map.
“Yes, it’s about a day’s ride from Argros City. But far enough away from Agrys Town that Soton will find it time-consuming to send his couriers.”
“There’s no place in Hos-Harphax far enough away to discourage Soton should he get a wasp in his breeches! Let him beseech away, it will do him little good.”
“It has other advantages,” Arminta said with a smile. “It’s close enough we can visit my family, but far enough away we can work on one of our own.”
Phidestros smiled. Now that’s a job I’m going to enjoy!
THIRTY-EIGHT
Kalvan’s Army of Greffa was now about two hundred marches into
Greffan territory. Between the Mobile Force, the Mounted Rifles, three thousand dragoons--mostly shot with a scattering of pikeman and halberdiers, about half the Royal Cavalry and two thousand Urgothi stradiots, Kalvan had over twelve thousand troopers and the flying batteries to throw at Greffa City. Not to mention the new thirty-two pound brass gun, Galzar’s Mace, which was being towed on a long ox-wagon some fifty marches behind the army. General Alkides, who was staying behind at Thagnor City to man the walls, had argued that they should bring two of the rifled sixteen-pounders with Galzar’s Mace.
Kalvan had disagreed; the two cannons were much more important to the defense of Thagnor. If he couldn’t storm Grefla with two flying batteries of twelve guns apiece and Galzar’s Mace, then it was a doomed exercise to begin with. Besides, his mission was more of a diversion than a serious attack, meant to draw off King Theovacar and force him and his army back to Greffa City.
For the first time since fleeing from Hostigos, Kalvan was beginning to believe that things were finally improving for him and his people. The Thagnor City defenses were almost complete and Lysandros, or whomever was in charge of the Grand Host, could spend all year battering them with round shot and still get nowhere. Chartiphon had raised and trained a substantial force in Rathon, enough men to maybe turn the war. If his forces could hijack the Styphoni supply trains or even keep them from arriving, the Grand Host would find itself in deep waters come fall. Let them eat shoe leather for a change!
Captain-General Errock came riding up from the van, his horse lathered. “Your Majesty, according to our scouts, there’s a village ahead holding between forty and sixty militiamen.”
“What’s the name?”
“Vagnor, sire.”
“Verkan, do you know anything about this village?”
General Verkan nodded. “Vagnor’s a small outpost, population roughly three to four hundred. It’s a road junction and trading center for local fur trappers and hunters. There are a few small farms for local greens and grains.”
This part of Greffa, the other side of the Thagnori border, was mostly unsettled with first-generation forests, mostly of oak, sycamore, ash and maple trees.
Kalvan turned to Errock. “Any military to speak of?”
He replied, “A few guardsmen, probably a squad. Some local militiamen, most of whom could shoot a bow, crossbow or the occasional smoothbore. Nothing against Hostigi firepower.”
“What kind of walls?”
“From the scouts’ report,” Errock said, “wooden palisades, towers and some blockhouses with a small gun or two, sire. Nothing we couldn’t smash down in a day or two with our artillery.”
Kalvan tugged his beard. “I’d like to settle our differences now before we have to come back through
this way come summer. I don’t like leaving combatants in my rear, either. Do you think we can negotiate a surrender?”
Errock chewed on his mustache for a moment. “I believe so, Your Majesty, as long as we allow them to save face. I’ll talk to the representative of the town-moot and see if they’re willing to play along. Theovacar’s taxes in the marches are high and there’s little love for him or his tax-gatherers.”
The King’s advance party arrived at Vagnor in about a candle. Kalvan was surprised to find the wooden palisade and blockhouses right out of American Colonial history. It wouldn’t have surprised him if Daniel Boone had ridden out of the gates. There were a couple of farms in a cleared area outside the walls and some out-buildings, but all appeared deserted.
Captain-General Errock, Uncle Wolf Tharses and Grand-Captain Vanar Halgoth with twenty of the Royal Bodyguard formed a parley group and entered through the town gate. While he was waiting, Kalvan had his horse fed and watered at a nearby stream.
“Verkan, what sort of reception should we expect at Greffa?”
“Despite Theovacar’s limited forces, he’s probably left a good-sized garrison of several thousand men under a loyal commander. Five thousand at most. He has to keep a strong garrison in the City as the King has a lot of unhappy nobles who’d love an opportunity to rebel. The nomads are quiet and haven’t been sighted in great numbers any closer than Lyros so far this campaign season. Still, most of his defenses will be aimed at stopping a barbarian incursion.
“Naval power has the most weight in the Upper Middle Kingdoms so Theovacar would never expect a land attack against his capital from Thagnor, which will give us the element of surprise. Morthron, by way of the Erkfryn River, has been the traditional Thagnori invasion route to Greffa City, which is why they are so closely allied. The only real problem we’ll face is the Great Walls. With your guns, they shouldn’t hold out more than a moon half.”
“I pray to Galzar that you’re correct, Verkan. If we can bag Greffa City in less than a moon, we’ll be able to return to Thagnor and hit the Grand Host from the rear. Now that would be a surprise!”
Verkan grinned. “One the Styphoni are guaranteed not to like.”
Kalvan heard an uproar, some shouts and cries, from within the village. He turned and ordered Verkan to organize a sortie party while they waited.
Suddenly the town gates opened and Errock and his party came riding out smartly with half-a-dozen of the villagers. As they approached, Kalvan saw that several of the villagers had been roughed up.
“Any problems?” he asked.
Errock shook his head. “Sire, when the headman here suggested they surrender the village, some of the Royal soldiers got upset and started pushing the locals around. Our men put a quick end to that. This is Headman Yagar. He has a request.”
“Yes, Headman, what do you wish?”
The Headman jumped off his horse and fell to the ground to grovel. Kalvan shook his head in disgust and motioned for him to rise. If this is the way Theovacar and the Grefftscharri nobility treat all their subjects, the whole state is rotten to the core.
“Your Majesty, King Kalvan the Great, I would ask for only one thing. That you have your soldiers fire in the air one time and then we will surrender the town. I would not like it to be said that not a single shot was fired in our capitulation.”
“That will be done. Anything else?”
“Only that you take the Royal Greffan soldiers with you as prisoners; otherwise, they will kill us all as soon as you have left.”
“So it shall be. We will also leave fifty of our men to make sure that none of Theovacar’s loyalists try to re-take the town.”
“Thank you, thank you, Your Majesty!” the Headman said, bowing and scraping.
II
The League of Dralm Council met at Tarr-Kryphlon to formally declare war on Styphon’s House. General Hestophes was given a seat at the foot of the long plank trestle table that ran down the center of the Great Hall. Along both sides sat eight of the eleven Princes of Hos-Agrys, including Prince Aesklos of Zcynos who had lost a leg fighting for Styphon’s House several years before. Also seated were Duke Mnestros and his father, Prince Thykarses.
The latest news was that Grand Master Soton and his fleet had reached Agrys Harbor and defeated the Agrysi Navy. It was hardly a surprise, even to Hestophes, since the Agrysi Navy was small, poorly fitted and undermanned. Those Princes whose realms were closest to Agrys City appeared somber or nervous. He suspected that they were worried they’d find their princedoms at war or overrun before they had time to return.
After the Highpriest of Dralm made the opening invocations to Dralm, Speaker Kyphanes, Prince of Meligos, addressed the assembled princes. Kyphanes was a tall man bent by age and worry. There had been rumors in the past that he was in the pay of Styphon’s House, but a team of three intelligencers had been unable to uncover any link to the False Temple. In truth, he was a chronic worrier and resistant to change. In many ways, Kyphanes was the embodiment of the worst features of the Agrysi nobility, overly cautious and distrustful.
“My fellow Princes, it is only with great reluctance that I open this meeting of the Council of Dralm. I had prayed to the Allfather that we might avert the coming conflict, but the hounds of war have been unleashed. Grand Master Soton and his army are invading Hos-Agrys without provocation. It is up to the League to help our King and stop the Styphoni before they sack the City and hunt us down one at a time.”
There were nods of agreement from most Princes, but a few looked askance.
Prince Kyphanes looked as though he’d just bit down on a bitter seed. “It is my recommendation that we declare war on Styphon’s House and send an army to support our Great King.”
Prince Ptophlos of Orchon jumped to his feet. “Where was Demistophon when Orchon was invaded by Prince Nador of Pellor? I had to spend my last gold piece and mortgage my palace to get enough mercenaries to keep that Zygrosi cur from adding my domain to his holdings. The King refused to even answer my pleas. As I recall, none of the rest of you were eager to help, either!” Ptophlos plopped back down in his seat, his face set in a grimace.
Hestophes was beginning to resent all the time he’d wasted sailing to Port Glarth and the long overland journey that had followed. I would be a lot more useful back in Thagnor fighting the Grand Host than refereeing this bunch of wastrels.
Prince Thykarses rose to his feet. “We can argue over past mistakes and feuds, or we can concentrate on the crisis at hand. No one here, Oath of Galzar, has more reason to distrust and dislike our Great King than myself. Demistophon sent gold and money to my younger brother to foster a rebellion that only ended when he died in battle.”
The assembled Princes nodded as they recalled the rebellion twenty winters ago that had almost split the Princedom of Eubros in half.
“However, I ask that we do not turn away from the hard light of day. Styphon’s House will not be content with taking Agrys City and the surrounding territory. No, they want to put one of their puppets onto the Throne of Light and in the seat of every House in Hos-Agrys! If we do not pick up arms to defend our Kingdom, Styphon’s House will roll up our Princedoms like a Lyrosi rug. Remember what happened when we dithered over supporting Great King Kalvan of Hos-Hostigos? Now the war has come to our Houses.
“If Styphon’s House defeats Demistophon, those Princes who are in the Union of Styphon’s Friends will retain their titles but lose most of their powers. The rest of us will be planted in the soil and badly remembered by our subjects, or we will face Investigation by Archpriest Roxthar!”
Everyone at the table paled at the mention of Roxthar’s Investigation.
Prince Ptophlos shook his head. “How do we know that these tales are true, and not just Hostigi lies to garner our support?”
Hestophes jumped up, knocking over his chair in the process. The resulting crash got everyone’s undivided attention. “Because I was in Hos-Hostigos. I saw the battered peasants and eyeless women and
children, and the unending cries of those who had survived the Investigation. Hadrons Own Work! Anyone accused of being a follower of Allfather Dralm was ripe for torture. Anyone with a grudge against a neighbor could report them as a follower of Dralm and they would be Investigated. Many tens of thousands were Investigated throughout the Princedom of Hostigos and only a few hundred lived to tell about their ordeal. And those who did would have been better off dead!
“We know that Arch-Butcher Roxthar is bringing his Investigation along with Master Soton’s army and the Red Hand of Styphon to Hos-Agrys. Do any of you believe that Roxthar will leave Agrys until every man, woman and child--regardless of rank and wealth--has been Investigated? If you do, you are worse than fools!”
Hestophes went into further detail about Roxthar and his Investigators. By the time he was finished, all the Princes were in various shades of shock and Hestophes realized why Duke Mnestros and his father had withheld this vital piece of information.
Mnestros rose. “I vouch for his words. I saw the miserable wretches, broken in body and spirit, left in the Investigation’s wake! It is time to wake up and face the truth. Styphon’s House has broken the contract between man and the True Gods; they are now working for demons. What else could this Styphon be, to allow such practices in his name?”
One of Prince Varion’s retainers burst into the Great Hall and rushed over to whisper some words in his master’s ear. Varion rose to his feet. “My fellow Princes, two more visitors of import have arrived to inform our Council.”
A moment later Primate Xentos, wearing his white robe with a blue eight-pointed star edged in gold, entered the Hall as if it was one of his properties. Xentos’ beard and hair were snow-white in contrast to his sun-darkened face. He was followed by a barrel-chested man, wearing a battered breastplate and of obvious military bearing with a bald head and a big mustache.
A sudden hush fell over the Hall.
Hestophes had seen the soldier before, but not in this guise. He wracked his memory trying to remember his name. Wasn’t he one of the men at the Royal Foundry? Yes, he remembered the big mustache, but before there’d been a full head of hair: Master Aranth!’ Yes, that was his name. A former Greffan soldier who was one of the camp guards. I heard he’d died at the Foundry with all the others.