by Tony Roberts
The service over, the soldiers marched along the floor of the vast valley, heading along and to either side of the single road.
Eyes watched their progress, and the word was passed back. It wasn’t long before the Venn army realised they were being shadowed, for the riders on the horizon stayed with them, and kept them in sight. Once Alcazui sent a group of knights chasing after one of them but the scout vanished, galloping off into the vastness of the countryside and the knights returned disappointed. It reinforced the general attitude amongst the Venn soldiers that the Kastanians were cowards who were too afraid to face them in battle, and would skulk behind walls and rocks.
Seven days after invading Kastanian territory Alcazui began to get daily reports of thefts from the camp and unknown shadows gathering in their wake, always moving in at night to rob from the stocks piled up. Guards were doubled but the thefts continued. It was irritating. They came to a village but it was empty; all the items of value had gone and tracks around the settlement spoke of the population fleeing a short time before.
Alcazui ordered the place burned to the ground nonetheless. The villagers watched from the hills with hate in their eyes. The Kastanian scouts amongst them pointed to the soldiers and told them that this was what lay in store for them if they accepted Venn rule. They were encouraged to prey on the invaders. The Bragalese villagers needed no encouragement.
A day after leaving a pall of smoke in their wake the Venn army came to a halt; standing across their path was another army, shields lined in a wall, spear points gleaming in the late spring sun. Alcazui sat in the saddle glaring at the line of men blocking his path towards Zofela, now only four or five days distant. The flags fluttered green and dull red, the colours of Mazag.
He waved his diplomat forward. “Go speak to those people; tell them we have no argument with Mazag. Remind them of our unity under Sonos against the heretics. If they refuse to listen, invoke the wrath of Sonos upon them. Take the priests with you.”
Godin Terbar, the diplomat, took his cue and, accompanied by two priests dressed in black and holding their sun symbols of Sonos, walked out ahead and crossed the distance between the two forces and halted in front of the Mazag line. He announced himself and the commander of the Mazag army, General Vanist, a tall, lean man with deep-set eyes and a hard, cruel mouth, rode out with his aides and faced the Venn delegation.
“Greetings, noble Mazag friend,” Godin said in heavily accented Mazag. He doubted the peasant Mazag would have bothered to learn a refined tongue like Talian. “Venn brings you blessings of the day upon you.”
Vanist eyed the delegation in front of him coolly. He had little time for priests and their fanaticism; they got in the way of enjoying life with their don’t do this and don’t do that policies. As for the diplomat, he looked typical of his kind; furtive, dishonest, false and slippery as a slitherer. He’d rather have them all erected on poles and left to rot in the sun and leave people like him to go on with matters in a more honest and direct manner. He merely nodded and awaited Godin’s next words.
The diplomat cleared his throat and opened his arms wide. “We are all followers of the one true god, Sonos, so there is no reason for you good people to protect the idolatrous Kastanians. We merely wish to convert this region to Sonos, an act I am sure you and your king will approve of.”
Vanist’s eyes roamed over the heads of the delegation and came to rest on the Venn army. He quickly assessed their fighting strength and composition, and knew that although he was slightly outnumbered, he had enough spearmen to thwart the opposition should they try to force the route to Zofela. “Will he?”
Godin’s face clouded and he turned to the priests. The senior priest stepped forward, a stern self-righteous expression on his face. “Dare you oppose Sonos? Dare you risk bringing down the wrath of Sonos upon the heads of you, your army and your kingdom by this foolish act of standing up for cowards who do not have the stomach to face us here in their own land?”
“I do not speak to priests,” Vanist declared. “Go pray to Sonos away from men who have better things to argue over than your false belief that Sonos listens to your foolish prattle.”
The priest gasped in shock. Nobody had ever dared speak to him like that before. “You heretic! You shall burn on the Holy Pyre for such blasphemy!”
“And are you going to try to pull me from my equine, cleric? You try and you’ll be riddled with arrows.” He signalled with his gauntleted hand and a company of rough-looking archers stepped through the ranks of spearmen and raised their bows. “Now go away and bother me no longer.”
The priests held up their symbols. “Sonos will protect us!”
“Not from these archers. They are from Kral, mercenaries I have recruited. I believe they fled from the burning of their kinsfolk by your fellow priests. They have little love for Sonos. Now step back or they shall be too tempted to exact revenge for the deaths of their countrymen.”
The priests paled and retreated back to the safety of the Venn ranks. Godin was now left alone to face Vanist.
The general continued. “What you require is for me to go back on an agreement – an alliance, no less – signed between representatives of the King of Mazag and the Emperor of Kastania. I cannot break that bond without authority from my King, therefore I am afraid you will have to wait here until word comes back from my capital. It should take no more than two cycles.”
“Two cycles?” Godin was outraged. “We cannot sit here until the autumn! We don’t have the supplies! This is madness.”
“Invading Kastania is madness. It is not for me to explain away why Venn had decided to take this step, but no doubt you see your recent territorial gains as a prelude to greater things. Bragal is not only in the Kastanian area of influence, it is in Mazag’s too. As is Kral,” he glared at Godin, and then the waiting Venn army.
Godin breathed out a few times, trying to keep his rising temper under control. “A clash here between us would achieve no purpose, would it? I’m sure a little reasonable bending of the alliance wording wouldn’t go astray.”
“A clash, you say?” Vanist once again regarded the Venn army. “I have four hundred and fifty spearmen and a company of archers. Try to attack and your army will bleed to death on my spear points. You have cavalry which my spearmen absolutely love, believe me, and while your general is trying to work out how to extract his dying shock troops from my defence, my archers will fill your peasants with so many shafts they’ll run back the way they came. You’re not facing children here, diplomat; you have Mazag’s Army of Valchia in your face.”
Godin bared his teeth. “Duke Dominik will not be pleased to hear that you, General, have defied his decree that Bragal be conquered in the name of Sonos.”
Vanist sneered. “Sonos? I think not – it will have been in the name of the glory of Venn and Duke Dominik. And, besides, the Duke isn’t here so I don’t know whether your words are true or not. I cannot let you pass until I receive an order from my liege.”
The Venn diplomat spun angrily on his heel and stamped back to Alcazui. He gave the army commander a brief description of what had transpired. Alcazui rubbed his chin thoughtfully. The Mazag general had been right about the abilities of his troops. Only a fool would charge a line of prepared spearmen, and the majority of the Mazag troops were just that. They had decent archers too, better than anything he had, and Vanist’s bodyguard were better armoured and armed than his cavalry, although in a fight he was sure his cavalry would win, albeit only by bleeding themselves virtually dry. There was no option but to find another way round the roadblock.
He nodded to Godin. “Take a diplomatic mission to Zofela. I want to find out what their attitude is. I doubt they’ll take kindly to your presence, but I must know how prepared they are and what their situation is. Your mission will be permitted to pass through. Take two men. You should get there in a couple of days without being weighed down by the baggage we have here.”
The diplomat nodded and went off to
prepare for his journey. Alcazui beckoned his captains to gather round. “Very well, this is the situation. That Mazag force is blocking our direct route to Zofela. I want scouts to go out and find another way through. It won’t be by road so we may have to take what supplies we can from the wagons and abandon them here. At least it would free us to move faster. Ensure the men all have a sevenday’s supply of food and drink with them. It all depends on Godin’s findings at Zofela. Make camp here in the meantime and make sure it’s fenced – I don’t want any damned brigand sneaking in and stealing from us.”
Godin was allowed through by Vanist, who even provided an escort for the three Venn men. The general simply didn’t trust them to go directly to the town. They may have worshipped the same god but he disliked any Talian instinctively.
Godin followed the road and it wound its way past a few large mountains and rises, bending, twisting, but heading north-west all the time. Finally they climbed a ridge in between two heavily wooded mountains and at the top saw the valley stretch before them. Godin took in the panorama carefully. Zofela was half dismantled. He chuckled. They wouldn’t be able to stop any attack.
Astiras was advised of the approaching delegation and summoned Ganag Meri to his chamber. He sat himself in his makeshift throne, Isbel next to him, and Argan was sat next to Isbel, to watch and learn. Vosgaris stood quietly alongside Astiras, while two palace guards stood at the foot of the small dais. Other members of the Court stood in the background, crammed into the small space. At an announcement from Pepil, Godin was shown in and bowed low before Emperor Astiras I Koros, ruler of Kastania.
“I bring you greetings, your majesty,” Godin began. “Duke Dominik has charged me to bring you a proposal which he says you would be wise to accept.”
Since Godin didn’t speak Kastanian, Mr. Sen had been brought in to translate. Astiras’ face turned dark with anger. “Your Duke says I should accept his proposal, with one of his armies in my territory?”
Godin spread his hands widely, his swarthy face showing a regret he didn’t feel. “My Duke is a forthright man, and speaks his mind. He proposes you vacate the province of Bragal, grant the valiant Bragalese freedom and independence and in return the Duke offers to step in and protect their newly won independence. He furthermore proposes that in order to keep the peace between our nations, he will accept a minimal tribute of a thousand kromas per half year. Your empire will then enjoy the security of Venn’s protection.”
“What the black demons of the underworld are a thousand kromas?” Astiras demanded.
Frendicus cleared his throat. “Sire, that equates to around two hundred and fifty furims.”
Astiras snorted. “So, let me get this right. Venn demands we grant Bragal independence, leave and pay Venn a tribute for them not to attack us. Venn then take over the running of Bragal as ‘protectors’ of an independence that they have no intention of allowing?”
Godin’s smile slipped. “I would not put it in those terms, sire.”
“Too damned right you wouldn’t, but that’s the truth of it. Of all the effrontery, you take the treasure chest! What in the name of the gods would compel me to surrender my province to you people?”
“Sire, we are in control of Epros, Riliyan, Kral and Cratia. We are on two of your frontiers. Your armies are not big enough to face ours. We know of your financial problems and the fact your armies are small, under-armed and with low morale. Our forces are better armoured, full of fervour, purpose and have the means to carry the broken walls I have seen here. You would not be able to stop our attack. You are being allowed to leave now, unmolested, with your colours and honour intact. If you refuse, then my Duke will order the attack and unfortunately, all of you will either fall or be taken prisoner. I doubt your treasury would be able to meet our ransom demands, so you would spend the rest of your days as a guest of the Duke in Venn City’s deepest dungeon.”
Astiras shot up out of his chair, stepped down off the dais and swung his hand across Godin’s face, striking him hard. The Venn diplomat crashed to the floor and lay there, dazed, for a moment. Astiras loomed over him. “Go back to your kivok people, you blustering piece of filth. By the time I’ve finished with your much-vaunted army, they will be lining the roads of Bragal on the top of spear points! None of you will leave my realm alive. Get out of here.”
Godin slowly got to his feet, helped by his furious assistants. He wiped the blood from his mouth. “You are all doomed,” he said thickly. “Count your last days, Kastanians. It will be a pleasure to see you all fall and the flag of Venn fly from these ramparts.” With that he and the other Venn left, watched in silence by the Kastanians.
“We are going to have to recruit more soldiers to defend the town,” Astiras said, sitting back down. He was aware Isbel was staring at him, her displeasure radiating out at his actions. “Frendicus, do we have the funds to pay mercenaries?”
“Yes, sire. Even though we have made a loss this half year of over four thousand, with all the expense of the new building works, we still have enough to raise a few companies. The only new building work anticipated will be in Zipria – everything else in the empire has been funded and there won’t be anything new until next year.”
Astiras nodded in satisfaction. “Then, gentlemen,” he looked at Teduskis and Vosgaris, “you two are to take on the responsibility of raising three new companies from the native population. I want at least one of them to be archers.” He glanced at Argan, sitting wide-eyed in his chair. “Prince Argan will accompany you on your recruitment tours since he speaks the language as well as anyone I know.” Argan swung his head in surprise, then his eyes switched to his mother who was frowning. Astiras slapped the arm of his chair. “I want those slaves approached and given a choice – either sign up as levies and earn their manumission, or remain slaves until the day they die. They can earn the right to live in Zofela when it is rebuilt. That is my decree. Write it down,” he waved at a scribe standing to one side, recording the day’s edicts and events.
The Mazag diplomat stepped forward. “Sire, what of the Mazag? Our army is facing the Venn out in the open on your behalf.”
“And I – we – are grateful, my Mazag ally. Please send word to General Vanist to be ready to march back here and deploy his army out of sight to the west in the woods of the mountain slopes. I want those fools to think Mazag has deserted us and gone. Now Venn thinks we have an outnumbered garrison with broken walls, they will easily defeat us. I want them to come and be caught in a trap. Give us seven days and then he can march.”
Teduskis and Vosgaris grinned. It was a good plan. They were dismissed, and Meri left to compose a message to General Vanist. The trap would then be set.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Isbel was not best pleased. She waited though till Astiras and she were in their chamber alone before turning on him. “I wish you would think before you act sometimes, Astiras! First you commit a political assault on a diplomat by hitting that Venn – nobody ever does that! Venn will spread the word and everyone will know how we treat diplomats. You can rest assured, husband, that Venn will embellish what happened here to their benefit. You will be cast in the role of a monster, and our reputation stained beyond recall. Venn may even – with probable success – call other nations to support them in their war with us! And not satisfied with that, you then thrust our son into a dangerous assignment without even consulting me! Do not think I will sit idly by again in public if you do that again. I shall challenge you in front of everyone, so think next time you consider one of your numb-brained schemes!”
Astiras waved irritably at Isbel and walked up and down the chamber, his forehead creased in a frown. “The Venn scum deserved to be struck! He cannot come into my court and spout his vile delivery and not get what he deserves.”
“This is not a barracks where an arrogant new recruit cheeks his elders, Astiras!”
“No Venn comes here and acts in a non-diplomatic manner. If he had behaved like a diplomat then he would have h
ad his teeth intact. In any event, I wanted him away as I needed to issue my orders to that Mazag counsel and Teduskis. It all came to me at that moment, and the perfect means by which to smash these impudent porcines utterly. As for Argan, its time he started getting involved in official matters. War is going to come to him here and he can’t hide away in Court forever. He’s fluent in Bragalese, and Teduskis and Vosgaris will be with him. You worry too much, dear.”
“Astiras,” Isbel’s face was flushed red, “you’re still not listening! I was not consulted about Argan! I am his mother, and I have as much say in his wellbeing as you! I would appreciate it if you asked me first when these thoughts come into your head. Clear?”
“Oh, very well,” Astiras waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll speak to you next time. I cannot go back on my command, and the boy needs to see how we do things here. He’s nine the next winter, and getting closer to the time he’ll have to start collecting his own Court. He’s got two already.”
“Yes, I know,” Isbel said, not mollified in the slightest, “and I am going to have a say in who he has, not just you. Don’t you dare appoint anyone else without me agreeing to it,” she shook her finger at him. “The boy is sensitive and your clumsy methods of doing things are not good for him.”
“Oh, Isbel, he’s not made of glass; he’s a tough one. He survived that illness. He needs to learn about how things are done now, not next year.”
“And he is not going to fight in any battle!”
Astiras folded his arms across his chest. “Now who’s being clumsy? War and battles are my thing, and there is no way that boy is going anywhere near the field. He’ll be here in this castle when I go to fight the Venn.”