Lord of Janissaries (111 page)

AFFAIRS OF HONOR

20

Rick reined in at the top of the small hill. Castle Armagh was visible ahead. He dismounted. Time to walk the horses. Ten minutes every hour. Every movement was an effort, and he felt as if someone had been standing on his back.

Only ten more miles, he thought. We’ve made good time from Dravan in the last week. Ten more miles. Fifteen minutes in a car. An hour in a four-wheeler with no roads. Half a day’s ride for us. Silently he cursed the
Shalnuksis
and all their works.
But if they hadn’t taken you off that hill, where would you be, Galloway?

Dead, I expect. But I wouldn’t be responsible for saving civilization for a whole planet.

* * *

Fields of young wheat filled the valley between the road and the hills. It looked like they’d have a good crop, enough to feed the region, with a lot left over to be stored in the Caves.
If we can keep Strymon’s army from trampling it. Or burning it. Or burn it ourselves, only I won’t do that. Sure, we’ll have plenty for a couple more years. But then the Time will come, and the
Shalnuksis . . .

Rick couldn’t see the fields on the other side of the hills, but he knew what they held. Tangles of
surinomaz
—madweed, as the locals called it—tended by convicts and slaves under the watchful eyes of armed guards.
I wouldn’t blame the slaves for running. Cultivating madweed’s hard work. Dangerous, too. But if we don’t grown the stuff, we’ll have nothing for the
Shalnuksis
, and they’ll bomb the planet just to keep it in the Stone Age. And if I tell myself that often enough, maybe I’ll believe it’s all right to be a slave master. Maybe.

* * *

As they approached Castle Armagh the gates opened and four blue-robed priests of Yatar rode out. When they were closer, Rick saw that their leader was Yanulf.

What’s he doing here? Rick wondered. His place is at Edron. Or with the Wanax. There’s not much here but mercs and madweed, and those are my job, not his.

“Hail, Lord Rick.”

“Hail.”

Yanulf gestured, and the junior priests and apprentice who’d ridden out with him drew away. “I would speak with you alone,” Yanulf said.

Rick waved his guards back and rode on with Yanulf. “Bad news?”

“The worst,” Yanulf said.

Worst.
“Tylara’s dead.”

“No, my lord. Captured by Prince Strymon. Morrone lost half his force, and both he and the Eqetassa were taken.”

“But she’s alive.”

“Yes, when last we heard. But there is more you should know.”

Rick studied Yanulf’s expressionless face. “If she’s being mistreated—” He shuddered. Yanulf would remember what Tylara had suffered from Sarakos as well as Rick did. Better.

“It is not that. My lord, she rode out through the lines of her archers, and alone charged the enemy cavalry.”

“That doesn’t make sense—”

“She is the leader of a clan of Tamaerthon. Could she believe she has lost the favor of God?”

Rick glanced at his watch and reined in. “Time to walk,” he said.

“My lord—”

“Give me a minute.” He dismounted carefully and walked ahead.

Lost the favor of God. Yeah, and her husband, too. And all her husband’s friends. And—

Damnation, she tried to talk to me. Why didn’t I give her the chance?

“Who brought the news?”

“The boy Culin. When Apelles saw the Lady Tylara captured, he sent his servant to me, and followed his lady into the camp of the enemy.”

“Good man. I owe him. I suppose he’s getting messages out through the priests of Yatar in Strymon’s army?”

“Of course. Those who serve Yatar know that the Time approaches, and who their true friends are.”

Rick glanced at the front of Yanulf’s robe, where a pectoral cross lay over the circled thunderbolt of Yatar. “How do you feel about the unified faith?”

“Some accept, some do not. Those who accept help as best they can.”

“Strymon permits the new faith in his camp?”

“A quarter and more of his soldiers have accepted it. How could he not?”

“Oh. Thanks. I didn’t know you’d made that many converts.” He walked on a few paces, then turned. “If the priests can get messages out, I can get one in.”

Yanulf nodded. “It can be done.”

“Thank you.”
And what in hell will I say to her?
He laughed bitterly.
“Come home, all is forgiven.” Now how the hell do I say that in a message that half the priesthood’s going to read?

“What will you do?” Yanulf asked.

“Get the hell up there and see how many of Ganton’s people will help me get her out.”

“Calm. I know you wish to act, but think first. Prince Strymon has a reputation for honor, and surely will not demand excessive ransom. If you attempt a rescue, she may be killed. I am no soldier, but most battles hastily begun are easily lost.”

Rick was silent for a long moment. “All right. I’ll get the stuff I came here for and go back to Dravan. By then we’ll know more. If that—If you can send messages into Strymon’s camp, send him this one. If he harms her in any way, by spring a year from now there won’t be a living thing left in his kingdom.”

“I will send the message, but I doubt it will be believed.”

“Tell him anyway.”

* * *

Gwen and Siobhan acknowledged the sentry’s salute and turned down the hall toward Octavia’s chambers. Voices reached them before Gwen was close enough to knock at the door of the royal apartment.
If Octavia ever finds herself at the head of a legion, she’ll have no trouble making herself heard. That’s for sure.
She motioned Siobhan behind her and stepped close to the door.

“—abandon Edron, which has never fallen save by starvation or treachery? We have provisions for at least two winters. If you know of traitors among us, tell me now lest I suspect you of being one of them!”

Octavia’s command was answered by an incoherent chorus of protestations.
She must have half the ladies of the court in there. This sounds interesting.
Gwen glanced back down the hall. The sentry was out of sight. She waited, one hand poised to knock.

“. . . much of Morrone’s host escaped Piro’s Hill and will soon fight again. The Wanax will take the field against Strymon with the knights Morrone couldn’t muster. Tamaerthan pikemen will join him. Tamaerthan pikes and archers alone once defeated a Roman legion! And then there are the star weapons— God knows how many
guns
we can field against Strymon. It is the host of Ta-Meltemos that should be thinking of fleeing to safety! Not us.”

“But, Your Majesty—you cannot—”

“Your son, Prince Adrian—” This round of protestations was slightly more coherent.

“No. I am the daughter and the granddaughter of soldiers, who held their posts where God and Caesar sent them. Can I do less? What honor does it bring them or your Wanax if I teach my son to flee at the first sign of danger?

“I cannot. I will not. Enough of this nonsense. I will hear no more.” Octavia’s tone held all the finality of the headsman’s axe.

“That’s our cue.” Gwen took Siobhan’s hand and led her down the hall away from the sentry. They turned the corner and flattened themselves against the wall as ladies-in-waiting bustled out of Octavia’s apartment.
Not this way, ladies. You’re already annoyed that Octavia booted a couple of you out of your rooms for me when we evacuated the University. You don’t need to know that I’ve heard the queen dressing you down like raw recruits.

Gwen waited until the ladies had left the corridor, then motioned to Siobhan to follow her back down the hall. She knocked at Octavia’s door and a maid admitted them. Octavia was sitting on a window bench, pretending to knit. Gwen had taught her Earthstyle knitting, and the queen was quite good at it—when her hands weren’t shaking.

Octavia turned a pale face to Gwen as the Earthwoman entered. “I expected you earlier. Did you hear those mewling biddies? Do they think they can find any place that’s safer than Edron? Strymon will never get this far. Ganton will see to that.”

Octavia’s smile was strained. Gwen realized that the girl was as scared as any of her ladies.
She’s just hiding it better. Goes with being Queen, I guess.
Gwen smiled. “Forgive me. I don’t doubt the Wanax will make short shrift of Strymon.”

“I’m glad to hear you believe that. But . . . I’m frightened. We will surely win, but at what price? We’ve already lost four thousand good men slain or taken, and Lady Tylara and Lord Morrone are prisoners.”

What price indeed. If I had the answer to that question, I’d be Yatar or some other Higher Authority. As it is—
“I’m scared too Octavia. But we’ll just have to do the best we can. One thing, you might admit to your ladies that you’re worried about your husband. Most of them are probably scared for their men too.”

“Thank you, Gwen. Will you—will you give me advice and counsel? Yanulf returns today. When he rides north with the host, you’ll be the only one I can talk to.”

“Of course.” Gwen realized she was thinking of the power that position would give her.
What’s worse is that I don’t despise myself for it. Is this what they mean when they talk about doing well by doing good?

A faint knock sent Octavia’s maid to the door. “The Lord Chancellor of the University, Lord Warner, craves audience with the Wanaxxae Octavia and the Lady Gwen.”

“Come.”

Octavia and Gwen sat side by side to receive Larry Warner’s graceful bow.
He’s becoming quite the courtier. I wonder how many ladies he’s courted into bed?

“Your Majesty. My report on the University’s contribution to our coming victory. With your permission?”

Octavia laughed. “Lord Rick has made it
very
clear that the University is no part of either Drantos or Rome. You need make no report to me.”

“Well, Majesty—” Warner was obviously amused. “That’s true, but I am supposed to report to Gwen, and besides, I’ve brought some troops to add to the defenses of Edron.”

“Ah. Proceed, then.” Octavia smiled. “You may speak to Gwen or to me, as is most appropriate.” Then she laughed.

“Yes, ma’am,” Warner drawled. “All the essential records and equipment from the University are safe in Edron now. The Romans withdrew most of their University cohort to support the defense of the south, but since most of the threat is from the south, that’s not as bad as it sounds. Still, it left us with not much more than Rustengans and other craftsmen too old or too young to go to war, and some random Tamaerthans from the major clans.”

“All the clans?” Gwen asked.

“Most of them.”

Gwen nodded in satisfaction. “Good. Then any clansmen who attack the University will be at blood feud with their own relatives.”

“Right. Anyway, the Roman tribune wanted to take the whole cohort, but Lucius convinced him he’d better leave some of them with us. So he and his centurions rolled dice to see who’d get to leave. I think he used his own dice, because he got to go himself.”

“Larry, what’s the bottom line?” Gwen asked in English.

“Yes, ma’am. Well, the University is defended by the Tamaerthan clansmen, the worst half of the Roman cohort, the city militia, and God Almighty. I’ve brought a token century of Romans, a company of Tamaerthan archers, all the University craftsmen who think they’re militia and volunteered to travel, and the First Balloon Squadron, commanded by Your Servant Warrant Officer Warner.”

“Balloon? Larry—”

“Well, I admit it’d do more good out west, but it’d take forever to get it there.”

“The Wanax wishes each to fight whatever enemy is closest,” Octavia said. “I think you will soon find many of them close enough.”

“Yeah—Yes, Majesty. I’m afraid you’re right.”

“That’s good strategy. It’s even better politics,” Gwen said. “Fighting the enemy where he is has got to be better than just defending your own land. Drantos has no national army. Rome sends troops where they’re needed.”

“Maybe the ironhats will learn and maybe they won’t,” Warner said. “Anyway, we’re here, and I no sooner got here than we were ordered to join Ganton’s army. We move out tonight. What am I getting into?”

“I don’t know how many troops the enemy has,” Gwen said. “But I can tell you what the Wanax’s forces are.” She looked to Octavia and got a tiny nod of approval. “With your people—and I expect he can use your aeronauts—he ought to have nearly ten thousand, plus the field guns, and seven mercs with rifles. Eight, counting you.”