'If not, their coming aggravates it,' added Trocero. 'Hurry- on your way, friends, and start the fortification, quick man! 'We have no time to lose.'
A gentle morning breeze fanned a hastily erected palisade and cooled the bloodshot eyes and aching bodies of its builders. When the camp followers - sutlers, water boys, women and children - sought to carry water from a nearby stream, a company of royalist cavalry appeared over a rise, galloped down upon them, and sent them flying for their lives. One old man and one young child, slow to move, were slain.
A rebel scouting party was overtaken and forced to flee. When they regained the camp, their pursuers galloped past it, shouting taunts and hurling javelins into the stockade. Conan's archers, summoned hastily, brought down two of the enemy's horses, but comrades snatched their riders up and carried them away. Thus, although no real attack was launched against the rebels, Conan's weary men were worn down by tensions and alarms.
At the evening conference Publius said: 'While I am not a military man, General, I think we ought to slip away during the night, ere Ulric brings us down or starves us out. He has the force to do his will, since sickness, like a grey ghost, stalks amongst us.'
'I say,' said Trocero, banging the table with his fist, 'hold our position while my Poitanians raise the countryside. If Ulric surrounds us then, the countryfolk can throw a bigger ring around him.'
With harvest time approaching,' Publius retorted, 'you'll find it difficult to raise a thousand. And farmers armed with naught but axe and pitchfork cannot withstand a charge of Ulric's armoured regulars. Would we were back in the Brocellian Forest, where our satyr friends could help us once again!'
Prospero put in: 'Aye, till the royalists learn to plug their ears - not longer. I say to launch a surprise attack this night on Ulric's camp.'
Pallantides shook his head. 'Naught more easily falls into confusion, with friend striking down friend, than a night attack with half-trained men like ours.'
The arguement went round and round with no conclusion, while Conan sat sombrely, frowning but saying little. Then a, sentry announced:
'A royalist officer and some fifty men have come in under a flag of truce, General. The officer asks to speak to you.'
'Disarm him and send him in,' said Conan, straightening in his chair.
The tent flap gaped, and in stalked a man in armour. The black heraldic eagle of Aquilonia was spread upon the breast of his white surcoat, while from his helmet rose the brazen wyvern of the Black Dragons. The officer saluted stiffly.
'General Conan? I am Captain Silvanus of the Black Dragons. I have come to join you with most of my troop, if you will have us.'
Conan looked the captain up and down through narrowed lids. He saw a tall, well-built, blond man, rather young for his captain's rating.
Welcome, Captain Silvanus,' he said at last. T thank you for the offer. But before I accept it, I must know more of you.'
'Certainly, General. Do but ask.'
'First, what brings you to change sides at this juncture? You must know that our position is precarious, that Ulric outnumbers us, and that he is a competent commander. So wherefore turn your coat today?'
'It is simple, General Conan. My men and I have chosen a risk of death in the rebel cause over a safe life under that madman - if any life under the king's standard can be called safe.'
'But why at this particular time?'
'This is our first opportunity. The Dragons reached Elymia yestereve, before the skirmish twixt Ulric's men and yours. Had we set out from Tarantia to join you, forces loyal to the king would have barred our way and destroyed us.'
'Has Numedides sent the whole of the Black Dragon regiment hither?'
'Aye, save for a few young lads in training.'
'Why does that dog denude himself of his personal guardians?'
'Numedides has proclaimed himself a god. He thinks himself immortal; and being invulnerable, has no need of bodyguards. Besides, he is determined to crush your rebellion and throws all contingents into Count Ulric's army. More march hither from the Eastern frontiers.'
What of Thulandra Thuu, the king's magician?'
Silvanus's face grew pale. 'Demons are sometimes summoned by mention of their names, General Conan. During the madness of Numedides, the sorcerer rules the kingdom; and if less foolish than the king, he is as heartless and rapacious. His sacrifice of virgins for his unsavoury experiments is known to all.' Fumbling in his wallet, he brought out a miniature painted on alabaster and hung on a golden chain. The painting showed a girl of perhaps ten years of age.
'My daughter. She's dead,' said Silvanus. 'He took her. If the gods vouchsafe me a single chance, I will tear his throat out with my very teeth.' The captain's voice shook, and his hands trembled with the intensity of his emotion.
A savage gleam of blue bale-fire shone in Conan's eyes. His officers stirred uneasily, knowing that mistreatment of women roused the ruthless Cimmerian's furious indignation. He showed the miniature around and returned it to Silvanus, saying:
'We want more information on Count Ulric's army. How many are they?
Nearly twenty-five thousand, I believe.'
Whence did Ulric get so many? The Army of the North had no such strength when I left the mad king's service.'
'Many of Prince Numitor's Frontiersmen, when they recovered from their panic, rallied and joined Count Ulric. And the regiment of the Black Dragons was ordered from Tarantia.'What befell Numitor after the rout?'
'He slew himself in despair over his failure,'
'Are you certain?' asked Conan. 'Amulius Procas was said ; ' to have killed himself, but I know that he was murdered.'
'There is no doubt of it, sir. Prince Numitor stabbed him- self before witnesses.'
'A pity,' said Trocero. He was the most decent of the lot, if too simple-hearted for a bloody civil war,'
Conan rumbled: 'This calls for discussion. Pallantides, find sleeping quarters for Captain Silvanus and his men; then rejoin us here. Good night, Captain.'
Publius, who had said little, now spoke up: 'A moment, if you please, Captain Silvanus. Who was your father?'
The officer, at the tent flap, turned. 'Silvius Macro, sir. Why do you ask?'
'I knew that when I served the king as treasurer. Good night.'
When the captain had departed, Conan said: Well, what think you? At least, it's good to have men deserting to us-not from us-for a change.'
'I think,' said Prospero, 'that Thulandra Thuu seeks to plant a new assassin in our midst. He'll but await the chance to slide a knife between your ribs, then ride like a, fiend from hell.'
Trocero said: I disagree. He looked to me like a straightforward young officer, not like one of Numedides's fellow-debauchees or Thulandra's ensorcelled minions.'
'You cannot trust appearances,' rejoined Prospero. 'An apple may look never so rosy and still be filled with worms.'
'If you will permit me,' interrupted Publius, 'I knew the young man's father. He was a fine, upstanding citizen - and still is, if he lives.'
'Like father not always is like son,' grumbled Prospero.
'Prospero,' said Conan, 'your concern for my safety does me honour. But a man must take his chances, especially in war. However much you guard me against a secret dagger, they like to kill us one and all, unless by some sudden change can reverse our fortunes.
In an instant there was silence as Conan sat brooding, his deep-set blue eyes focused on the ground before him. At last he said:
'I have a plan-a perilous plan, yet fraught with no more danger than our present situation. Tarantia is defenceless, stripped of her soldiery, whilst mad Numedides plays immortal god upon his throne. A band of desperate men, disguised as Dragons of the Household Guard, might reach the palace and — '
'Conan!' shouted Trocero. 'An inspiration from the gods I I'll lead the foray.'
'You are too important to Poitain, my lord,' said Prospero, 'It is I who-'
'Neither of you goes,' said Conan firmly. '
Poitanians are not greatly loved in the central provinces, whose people have not forgotten your invasion of their land during the war with King Vilerus.'
'Who then?' asked Trocero. 'Pallantides?'
Conan shook his full black mane, and his face glowed with the lust of battle. 'I shall perform this task as best I may, or die in the trying. I'll choose a squad of seasoned veterans, and we'll borrow surcoats and helmets from Captain Silvanus's men. Silvanus - I'll bring him, also, to identify us at the gates. Aye, he is the key to the city.'
Publius held up a cautionary hand. 'A moment, gentlemen. Conan's plan might well succeed in ordinary warfare. But in Tarantia you deal not merely with a demented king but also with a malevolent sorcerer, whose mystic passes and words of magic can move mountains and call demons from the earth or sea or sky.'
'Wizards don't terrify me,' said Conan. 'Years ago, in Khoraja, I faced one of the deadliest and slew him despite his flutterings and mutterings.'
'How did you that?' asked Trocero.
'I threw my sword at him.'
Do not count on such a feat again,' said Publius. Tour strength is great and your senses keener than those of common men; but fortune is not always kind, even to heroes.'
'When my time comes, it comes,' growled Conan.
'But your time may well be our time, too,' said Prospero. 'Let me send for Dexitheus. A Mitrian priest knows more of the world beyond than we ordinary mortals do.'
Conan gave in, albeit with ill grace.
Dexitheus listened with folded hands to Conan's plan. At length he spoke gravely; 'Publius is right, Conan. Do not underestimate the power of Thulandra Thuu. We of the priesthood have some notion of the dark, nameless forces beyond man's fathoming.'
'Whence comes this pestilent thaumaturge?' asked Trocero. Some say he is a Vendhyan; others, a Stygian.'
'Neither,' replied Dexitheus. 'In my priestly brotherhood we call him a Lemurian, coming-I know not how-from islands far beyond the known world, eastward, in the ocean beyond Khitai. These shrouded isles are all that remains of a once spacious land that sank beneath the waves. To outwit a sorcerer with powers such as his, our general needs more than material arms and armour.'
Trocero asked: 'Are there no wizards in this camp who would accept this service?'
'Nay!' snorted Conan. 'I have no use for tricksters such as those. I would not harbour one or seek his aid.'
Dexitheus's expression became doleful. 'General, though you know it not, I am much discomfited.'
'How so, Reverence?' said Conan. 'I owe you much and would not distress you without cause. Speak not in riddles, good friend.'
'You have no use for wizards, General, calling them charlatans and quacks; yet there is one you count among your friends. You have need of a magician; yet you refuse the help of such a one.' Dexitheus paused and Conan beckoned him to continue.
'Know, then, that in my youth I studied the black arts, albeit I advanced little beyond the lowest grades of sorrny Later I s'tw the light of Mitra and forswore all dealings with
demons and the forces of the occult. Had the priests
learned of my wizardly past, I should not have been accepted to their order. Therefore, when I accompany you on tin perilous mission -'
What, you?' cried Conan, frowning. Wizard or no, you are too old to gallop a hundred leagues You would not survive it.'
'On the contrary, I am of tougher fibre than you think. The ascetic life lends me a vigour far beyond my years, and you will need me to cast a counter-spell or two. But when I accompany you, my secret will come out. I shall be forced to resign my holy office - a sad ending to my life's career.'
'Meseems the use of magic for a worthy end is a forgiveable sin,' said Conan.
'To you, sir; not to my order, which is most intolerant in the matter. But I have no alternative; I shall use what powers I have for Aquilonia.' His sigh was heavy with tears too deep for thought.
'After it's over,' said Conan, 'perchance I can persuade your priesthood to make exception to the rigour of their rules. Prepare, good friend, to leave within the hour.' 'This very night?' When better? If we wait upon the morrow, we may find the camp hemmed in by royalists. Prospero, pick me a troop of your most skilful mounted fighters. See that each man has not one horse, but two. to allow for frequent changes. But do it quietly. We must outrun the news of our departure. As for the rest of you, keep the men busy improving our defences whilst I am gone. To all of you, farewell!'
The half-moon barely cleared the treetops when a column of horsemen, each leading a spare mount, issued stealthily from the rebel camp. In the lead rode Conan, wearing the helmet and white surcoat of the Black Dragons. With him rode Captain Silvanus, and behind them trotted Dexitheus, priest of Mitra, likewise attired. Fifty of Conan's most trusted soldiers followed, disguised in the same manner as the others.
I fader Silvanus's guidance, the column swung wide of the royalist encampment. When they were once again on the Tarantia road, they broke into a steady trot. The moon set, mid black night swallowed up the line of desperate men.
XII
Darkness in the Moonlight
The sun had set, and overhead a brilliant half-moon hung suspended in a cloudless sky. At the royal palace of Tarantia, the king's solitary supper, served on gold platters in his private dining-room, had been cleared away. Save for a taster standing behind the royal armchair, two bodyguards stationed at the silver-studded doorway, and the footmen who served the royal meats, none had attended him to join in the repast.
Thousands of lamps and candles blazed in the royal chambers-so bountiful the light that a stranger, entering, would wonder whether a coronation or a neighbouring monarch's visit occasioned this opulent display.
Yet the palace seemed curiously deserted. Instead of the chatter of lovely ladies, chivalrous youths and high-ranking nobles of the kingdom, echoes from the past reverberated down the marble halls, empty save for a few guards, on whose silvered breastplates the multitude of candles were reflected. The guards were either adolescent boys or greybeard oldsters; for when the household guard marched south to confront the rebels, the king's officials had hastily replaced the corps of the Black Dragons with lads in training and retired veterans.
The lamps and candles burned all night, as the king-fancying himself a sun god-deemed naught but the light of day at night worthy of his exalted station. Thus, scurrying servants hastened from lamp to lamp to assure sufficient oil in each and carried armfuls of candles from chandelier to chandelier to replace those that flickered out.
As the king's madness waxed, the courtiers and civil servants, normally in attendance, stole away. Foremost among these was Vibius Latro, who had offices and living quarters in the palace. The chancellor had sent a message to Numedides, begging a short leave of absence. His health, the note continued, was breaking down from long hours of work, and without a brief respite at his country seat, he feared he could no longer further the interests of His Majesty.
Having just flogged one of his concubines to death, Numedides, in rare good humour, granted his request. Latro forthwith loaded his family into a travelling carriage and set out for his estates, north of Tarantia. At the first crossroads, he veered eastward and, lashing his horses, raced for the Nemedian border two hundred leagues away. Other members of the king's official family likewise found compelling reasons for a leave of absence and speedily departed.
Numedides's throne in the Chamber of Private Audience stood upon a patterned Iranistani carpet, woven of fine wools artfully dyed to the colour of rubies, jades, amethysts and sapphires and shot through with threads of gold. The chair itself, an ornate structure, though less imposing than the Ruby Throne in the Public Throne Room, was tastelessly embellished with dragons, lions, swords and stars. The heraldic eagle of the Numedidean dynasty soared up from the tall back, its wings and eyes studded with precious stones that sparkled in the generous candlelight.
The king's silver sceptre-the ceremonial symbol of kingship - lay across the purp
le-pillowed seat, while the Sword of State, a great two-handed weapon, bejewelled of hilt and scabbard, reposed on one of the chair's broad arms.
Two persons stood in the chamber: King Numedides, wearing the slender golden circlet that was the crown of Aquilonia and a crimson robe bespotted with stains of food, wine and vomit; and Alcina, clad in a clinging gown of sea-green silk.
From opposite sides of the gilt throne they glared at each other. Alcina hissed:
'You mangy old dog! I will die before I submit to your perversions! You cannot catch me, you old, fat, filthy heap of offal! Go find a bitch or a sow to vent your lusts upon like to like!'
'I aid I would not hurt you, little spitfire!' wheezed Numedides. 'But catch you I will! None can escape the desires of a king, let alone a god! Come here!'
Numedides suddenly moved sidewise, in a feint at which lie showed himself surprisingly nimble. Caught unawares, Alcina leaped back, losing the protection of the ornate chair. Then, with outspread arms and clutching hands, the king herded her into a corner far removed from either pair of double doors, whose plastered frames adorned the walls to left and right of the ostentatious throne.
Alcina's fingers flew to her bodice and whipped out a slender dagger, tipped with the same poison that had slain Amulius Procas. 'Keep back, I warn you!' she cried. 'One prick of this, and you will die!'
Numedides gave back a step. 'You little fool, know you not that I am impervious to your envenomed bodkin?'
We shall soon see whether you are or not, if you approach me closer.'
The king retreated to his throne and caught up his sceptre. Then once more he stalked the trembling girl. When Alcina raised her dagger, he struck a blow with his silver club, hitting her hand. The dagger spun away and bounced across the carpet, while Alcina, with a cry of anguish, caught her bruised hand to her breast.
'Now, you little witch,' said Numedides, 'we shall-'
The pair of doors on the right side of the audience chamber sprang open. Thulandra Thuu, leaning on his carven staff, stood on the threshold.
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