True,' said Flavius, 'it's nothing but a strip along Thunder River, joining Conawaga and Schohira with Oriskonie ... and the city of Velitrium.'
'Aye. And this rump province will not keep its independence long, for Thasperas of Schohira and Brocas of Conawaga have gone to Tarantia to press before the king their claims to this poor remnant.
'Lucian well knows that his governorship will end when King Numedides bestows the land on one or the other or, perchance, gives parts to each of them. It's said that Thasperas and Lucian hate each other, so he gains both fortune and revenge by betraying Schohira to the Picts. That pay chest held a half-year's pay for nigh a thousand men – a tidy sum indeed. Lucian is said to be a gambler and, be like, is to his jowls in debt.'
'But, Conan, what fate will overtake the common folk of Schohira?'
'Lucian cares not a fig for them. He works for General Viscount Lucian first and last, as do most feudal lordlings.'
'Baron Thasperas would do no thing so foul, I know,' said Flavius.
'At least Thasperas did not recall the companies he sent in; as reinforcements after Tuscelan, and that cannot be said of Brocas. Still, I trust none of them. Besides, Lucian's plot Is no less fair than that whereby you Aquilonians took the Westermarck - at least, so think the savages.'
Anger tore at Flavius' devotion to his captain. 'If you so despise us Aquilonians, why do you risk your neck, fighting for us against the Picts?'
Conan shrugged, there in the moonless forest. 'I do not despise you, Flavius, or any of the other good men I have met among your people. But good men are hard to find in any land. The quarrels of lords and kings mean nothing to me, for I am a mercenary. I sell my sword to the highest bidder. So long as he pays me, I give him fair value in strength and strokes. Now, get up, young sir. We cannot ;.lay here babbling all night.'
IV
Moonlight on Gold
In the officers' quarters in the barracks at Velitrium, the fortress-headquarters of the Golden Lion regiment, four men sat in the yellow light of a brazen oil lamp, which swung from the sooty ceiling. Two were Conan and Flavius, both red-speckled from the myriad bites of mosquitoes. Conan, little affected by the gruelling day and night that he had survived in the wilderness, spoke forcefully. Flavius (ought the tides of sleep that threatened to engulf him. Each time he jerked himself awake, he forced his attention back to the two men who stared at him with searching eyes. Then
his eyelids would droop, his body slump, and his head nod until he jerked himself awake again.
The other two men wore parts of the uniform of Aquilonian officers. Neither was fully dressed, since both had been aroused from bed. One was a heavy-set man with a grizzled beard and a battle-scarred face. The other was younger, tall and handsome in a patrician way, with wavy blond hair that hung to his shoulders. The blond man spoke:
'Tis incredible, Captain Conan, what you tell us! That one of gentle blood, like General Lucian, should so foully betray his trust and his own soldiers! I cannot believe it. Were you to make such accusation publicly, I should feel obliged to denounce you as a traitor.'
Conan snorted. 'Believe what you like, Laodamas; but Flavius and I saw what we saw.'
Laodamas appealed to the older officer. 'Good Glyco, tell me, am I hearing treason, or have they both gone mad?'
Glyco took his time about replying. 'It is a serious charge, surely. On the other hand, Flavius is one of our better junior officers, and our Cimmerian friend here showed his loyalty in the fighting last autumn. This Lucian I know not, save in the way of duty since he came here to command us. I say naught against him without evidence, but naught for him, either.'
'But Lucian is a nobleman.' persisted Laodamas.
'So?' growled Conan. 'Laodamas, if you believe a title renders a man above ordinary temptation, you have much to learn about your fellow beings.'
'Well, if this fantastic tale be true... wait!' said Laodamas as Conan's blue eyes flashed menace and a deep growl arose in his throat. 'I gave not the lie to your story, Captain. I only said if. Now if it be true, what would you propose? We cannot go to our commander and say: 'Traitor, dismiss yourself from command and reside in the guardhouse pending trial.'
Conan uttered a short bark of laughter. 'I won't hazard anyone's neck without evidence. That pay chest should come across yon Thunder River soon, to be delivered unseen to the general. Flavius and I walked half the night to arrive ahead of it, reckoning the weight would delay those who bore it. If you two will finish dressing, we can intercept it before it reaches the shore.'
Muffled in cloaks against the chill and talking in low tones, four officers stood about the narrow pier that jutted out into the Velitrium waterfront. Several small boats, tied to a pier, bobbed gently on the sinuous tide of the river. The moon, nearly full, hung a misshapen disk of luminous silver in the west. Overhead, white stars wheeled slowly, while turning the surface of the river a ghostly mist was rising. Above the mist could be seen the shaggy silhouettes of trees on the farther bank.
There was little sound save the lapping of water against the piles of the pier and the faint scrape of the small boats as they nudged each other in the current. The cry of a loon came from afar. The other three looked a question at Conan, who shook his head.
'That's a real call,' he said, 'not a Pictish signal.'
'Flavius!' said Laodamas sharply. The lieutenant had slumped down with his back against a post.
'Let the lad have his nap,' said Conan. 'He has earned it thrice over.'
Soon Flavius was snoring gently. Laodamas looked toward the east and asked, 'The sky has paled a little. Is it dawn so soon?'
Conan shook his head. 'That's the false dawn, as they call if. The real won't come for yet another hour.'
Silence fell again, and the waiting officers paced noiselessly back and forth. As he paused to make a turn in his pacing, Conan brought up short.
'Listen!'
After a moment, he said: 'Oars! Take your posts.'
He nudged Flavius awake with the toe of his boot, and the four retreated to the base of the pier, crouching behind as much cover as they could find.
'Quiet, now!' said Conan.
Again there was silence. The moon had set, and without its competition, the stars blazed brightly. Then they dimmed
again as the eastern sky paled with the approach of day.
A faint rhythmic splashing and creaking became audible, and a black shape took form out of the mist and resolved itself into a row boat. As it came closer, the heads of five men could be discerned, rising from the indeterminate mass.
As the boat pulled up to the end of the pier, a man leaped out and made the painter fast to a cleat. With few words and much grunting, the oarsmen manhandled a heavy, bulky object out of the craft.
Four men, manning a carrying pole, hoisted the load to their shoulders. The fifth led them shoreward along the neck of the pier. In the waxing light, a keen eye could discern that the five wore the buckskin garb of Aquilonian scouts. At some time in the portage, thought Flavius, the Picts must have transferred their burden to these men.
As the five neared the base of the pier, Conan leaped out in front of them, drawing his sword.
'Stand or you're dead men!' he grated sharply.
The three other officers closed in with bared blades. For a heartbeat, there was silence.
The bearers dropped the chest with a crash. As a single being, they raced back to the end of the pier and leaped into their boat, rocking it perilously. One cut the painter with a knife; others snatched up oars and shoved off.
The leader also leaped back before the apparition of the giant Cimmerian, but he collided with the chest and toppled backwards over it. In a flash, Conan was upon him, catch inn his scrawny neck in an iron grip and pointing the blade of his sword against the fellow's throat.
'One word and you'll never speak another,' said Conan, eyes blazing through the shredded mists of dawn.
The other officers pushed past Conan and his hostag
e and reached the end of the pier. But the water-borne scouts were already rowing away, soon to be lost in the fog.
'Let the dogs go,' growled Conan. 'This one is Edric, the traitor who steered us into yesterday's trap. He'll tell us what we want to know, eh, Edric?'
When the scout remained silent, Conan said, 'Never mind, I'll have him talking soon enough.'
What now, Conan?' asked Glyco.
I tack to barracks. We'll use your room.'
Flavius said; 'Conan, how can we get both man and chest back to the barracks?' It takes four to carry the chest, leaving one guard for our prisoner.'
'Flavius, take this dog's knife away and bind his hands behind his back. His belt will serve. Now you take charge of it.'
Releasing his grip on the traitorous scout, Conan straightened his great back and heaved on the chest. 'Glyco and Laodamas, hoist this thing up so I can get my shoulder under it.'
The two officers put their shoulders under the ends of the chest- and, grunting, straightened up. Conan crouched, set shoulder beneath the chest and, with taut muscles crack-mi1, rose.
by the gods!' said Laodamas, 'I never thought mortal man could bear such weight.'
'Help Flavius bring the prisoner to the barracks. I cannot move this thing till the sun comes up.'
In the pallid light, they set out along the muddy streets. On came the scout, with Glyco and Laodamas on either side while Flavius walked behind, sword point goading the man's unwilling steps. Conan followed, weaving and staggering, but holding the chest fast upon his shoulder with arms on knotted ropes.
They reached the barracks as the first bird songs greeted the dawn. The sentry stared but, recognizing officers, saluted without comment.
V
The General is Saved
Minutes later, the five men sat in Glyco's quarters. The chest raised to show its glittering contents, stood in the centre of the small room. Edric sat on the rough boards, his wrists and ankles lashed together.
'Here's your evidence,' said Conan, still breathing deeply.
He turned to Edric. 'Now, fellow, will you talk, or must I try some Pictish persuasion?'
The sullen prisoner remained silent.
'Very well,' said Conan. 'Flavius, give me yon fellow's knife.'
Flavius drew the scout's knife from his boot top and handed it to the Cimmerian, who thumbed it purposefully.
'I mislike to use my own blade,' he mused, 'because heating it to red takes the temper out of steel. Now, set the brazier here.'
'I'll talk,' whined the prisoner. 'A devil like you could wring a confession from a dead man.' Edric drew a deep breath. 'We of Oriskonie,' he said, 'live far from the rest of the Westermarck and care little about the other province. Besides, the general promised to make us rich after we had delivered Schohira to the Picts. What have we had from our baron, or from the rest of you lordlings for that matter, but robbery and abuse ?'
'It is your place to obey your natural lords ...' began Laodamas, but Conan cut him off with a sharp gesture.
'Go on, Edric,' said Conan. 'Never mind the rights and wrongs of it,'
Edric explained how General Lucian had put him and other scouts to work guiding the Aquilonians at Velitrium into Pictish traps.
'We set the trap at South Creek so that the general could show good faith to his Pictish allies and get the pay chest from them.'
'How can a man like you betray your own countrymen for gold?' demanded Laodamas hotly.
Conan, brows knit, turned to the officer. 'Quiet, Laodamas. Edric, what was this trap the general set?'
'The wizard, Sagayetha, can master serpents from afar. His people say he puts his soul into the body of a serpent, but I... I do not understand such matters of vile witchery.'
'Nor I, nor any man,' said Conan, controlling the age-old horror that knotted up his vitals. He asked: 'Think you Lucian would in truth deliver Schohira to the Picts?'
Edric shrugged. 'I know not. I had not thought so far ahead.' 'Is it not likely that he would have betrayed you, too?
I live you and your comrades slain, lest any bear tales of his trickery to the throne of Aquilonia?'
'Mitra! I never thought of that!' gasped Edric, turning IMS head to hide his frightened eyes.
'Perhaps this wretch lies, and Lucian is a loyal Aquilonian after all,' said Laodamas. 'Then we need not...'
'Fool!' exploded Conan. 'A loyal Aquilonian, to sacrifice the company of good men merely to bait a trap? Glyco, how
'Have any survived the rout?'
Two score straggled back ere nightfall,' said Glyco. 'We dope a few more may —'
'But—' began Laodamas.
Conan smote his palm with a clenched fist.
They were my men!' he snarled. 'I had trained them, and I knew each one. Arno was a good man and my friend. They will pay for this treachery, whatever scheme the general may have had in mind. Glyco and Laodamas, go to your companies and choose a dozen men you can trust, tell them it's a perilous action against treachery in high places, and if they want revenge for South Creek, they must I. 'How orders. Meet me on the drill ground in half an hour.
'Flavius, take our prisoner to the lock-up and then join me.'
'Conan,' said Laodamas, 'whilst I concede your plan is sound, it is I should command the venture. I am of noble Mood and stand above you on the promotion list. This is
I1 regular...'
'And I stand above you, young man,' snapped Glyco. 'If you make an issue of rank, take command. Lead on, Conan; you seem to know what you're about.'
'If he does not,' said Laodamas, sulkily, 'we shall all hang for mutiny. Suppose the general cries to the men: 'Seize me those traitors!' Whom will they obey?'
'That,' said Conan, 'is a question time will answer. Come!'
On the drill ground, the three officers and their lieutenants lined up their two score soldiers. Briefly, Conan explained the Pictish trap and who had planned the massacre. He told off four men to carry the chest and said: 'Follow me.'
The sun had mounted the tops of the rolling Bossonian hills when Conan's group arrived at the generous dwelling wherein lived the commander of the Frontier Guard of Conajohara. Built on a slope, the house fronted on a high terrace, reached by a dozen steps from street level. At the officers' approach, two sentries on the terrace snapped to attention.
Conan stamped up the steps. 'Fetch the general!' ho barked.
'But, sir, the general has not yet arisen,' said a sentry.
'Fetch him anyway. This matter brooks no delay.'
After a searching look at the grim faces of the officers, the sentry turned and entered the house. A groom appeared in the muddy street, leading one of the general's chargers.
'Why the beast?' asked Conan of the remaining sentry.
'His Lordship oft goes cantering before his morning meal,1 replied the sentry.
'A magnificent animal,' said Conan.
The first sentry reappeared and said, 'The general is being shaved, sir. He begs you wait...'
'To hell with him! If he comes not forth to treat with us, then we shall go to him. Go, tell his Lordship that!'
With a small sigh, the sentry re-entered the house. Presently, General Viscount Lucian appeared with a towel around his neck. Although he wore breeches and boots, hi.1 upper torso was bare. He was a short, stocky man of middle age, whose well-developed muscles were growing flabby; and his black moustache, usually a pair of waxed points, looked - without the morning's pomade - frayed and drooping.
'Well, gentlemen,' said Lucian haughtily, 'to what emergency do I owe this untimely visit?' To a sentry he said, 'Fetch a stool. Hermius can finish my shave whilst I listen to my early visitors. Captain Conan, if I remember aright, I You seem the leader here. What is it you would say to me?'
'Few words, indeed, my lord Viscount,' growled Conan. ' But we have something to show you.'
He gestured savagely, and the soldiers waiting in the ;street below moved briskly up the steps and deposited the chest on the mosaic fl
oor of the terrace. Then they stepped hack.
Glyco and Laodamas studied the general's face like Bribes deciphering an ancient parchment. At the first glimpse of the chest, Lucian started, his face went pale, and he bit his underlip. But he stared at the bulky object, moving naught. There was no doubt in the hearts of those who watched him that the general recognised the chest, for the wine-red leather whereof it was fashioned and the gilt-dripped design of dragons incised upon it were unmistakable.
Then Conan lashed out with his booted foot, kicking the lid back upon its creaking hinges. The sentries blinked and Lucian flinched as the golden coins glittered in the sunlight.
'The time for lies is past, Viscount,' said Conan grimly, his steel blue eyes boring into those of his superior. 'The evidence of your crime is here before you. I doubt me not that King Numedides will call it treason; I have another word for it: foul treachery. Foulest treachery to betray into the death-trap your own soldiers who fought for you valiantly and blindly, trusting in you!'
Lucian made no move, save that he wet his lips with the the tip of his tongue, as delicately as a cat. His eyes were bright and unblinking.
Conan's eyes narrowed to slits through which burned naked hate.
'We saw the Picts give yonder pay chest to your man Eldric, and we have a full confession from him. You are under arrest...'
Holding the bowl of scalding water under the general's chin, the barber lifted his razor to make a stroke. Like a linking serpent, Lucian moved. He snatched the bowl from (he astonished barber and hurled it into Conan's face.
With amazing speed, he rose and, placing both hands upon the chest, gave it a mighty shove. It toppled off the la-race,, lid flapping; and turning over in its descent, it
spewed forth a golden shower of coins, a veritable rain of flashing precious disks.
A collective gasp of sheer delight came from the soldiers who had followed Conan and his fellow mutineers. As the chest crashed to earth, sending more coins bouncing and rolling along the street, the soldiers broke ranks to scramble for the money.
The Conan Chronology Page 579