Lord of Janissaries (69 page)

Rick cursed as he drank the bitter caffeine drink that for want of a better word he called tea.

His orderly watched the footman carry out the soiled breakfast dishes, then turned back as Rick cursed again. “My lord?” Jamiy asked.

“Nothing,” Rick growled. “Leave me.”

“Aye, Lord.” The orderly hesitated. “You are to see Chancellor Yanulf this morning.”

“And then Sergeant Major Elliot, and after that I have letters to dictate,” Rick said. “Yeah, I know. Give me this much time.” He held his fingers half an inch apart, indicating about ten minutes: the time it would take for a standard beeswax candle to burn down that far. Time measurement was not very accurate on Tran . . .

What the hell does Yanulf want, coming here from Edron without notice? I’ll find out soon enough. Another goddamn day of work and another night alone. Why didn’t I figure a reason for Gwen to stay—

Because, you damned fool, your wife would kill you. More likely kill Gwen, and it isn’t just a figure of speech. Besides, it isn’t Gwen you want, it’s Tylara. Remember?

Yeah, and it really is. Only—

Only nothing, buster. Forget it! What’s next? Your wife doesn’t understand you? Tell that one often enough, and it’ll be true. Or maybe that’s what you want? You could do it. You have the guns. Leave Tylara, go to the University and shack up with Gwen. You could change the whole history of the planet that way. Of course, all this stuff you’ve worked for goes down the tubes, but what the hell, a good lay is worth a lot, right?

Sure, with Isobel and Makail growing up to hate me. There’d also be the Caradoc problem.

“Hell,” he said aloud. “It’s not even tempting.” He drained the cup of lukewarm bitter tea.

* * *

Yanulf was attended by Apelles and two acolytes. The acolytes were dismissed at Rick’s study door, but Apelles came in with the Chancellor. Yanulf looked older, as if he’d aged a year in the past few months, but his voice was as hearty as ever. He greeted Rick warmly, and Rick stood to clasp the priest’s forearm before they sat at the conference table.

“And what brings you from the capital?” Rick asked.

“Not good news, I fear,” Yanulf said.

“I didn’t think it would be.”

“This could be a matter for the Eqeta’s Court,” Yanulf said. “It would have been, had not Apelles sent the matter to me.”

Rick frowned. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Technically, he has interfered with your justice,” Yanulf said. “Yet I see not what else he could have done.”

Rick warily eyed the two priests. “Why not tell me?” he demanded.

Apelles looked to Yanulf, then back at Rick. “It is a matter that I cannot resolve, Lord.” He looked down at the table, then across at the maps, finally back to Rick. “A petition of right, on behalf of Nictoros, Priest of Yatar, was brought to me three ten-days ago. As is my duty, I sent forth writs inquiring into the matter, intending to lay it before you in open court.” He paused again.

“And instead you wrote the Chancellor.”

“No, Lord.”

“You just said you wrote to Yanulf!”

“Aye, Lord, but I did not write to the chancellor. I referred the matter to Yanulf, Archpriest of Yatar, for it is a matter which touches the very honor of our god!”

Oh, Lord, Rick thought. What are we in for? The classic confrontation between church and state? Becket and Henry II, played out here? “Suppose you tell me about it.”

Again Apelles looked to Yanulf, who nodded slightly. “Nictoros was born villein,” Apelles said. “Within the lands of Bheroman Enipses. During the rebellion against Wanax Loron, Nictoros fled the land and took refuge with Galdaf, Priest of Yatar.”

“Many fled in those times,” Rick said. “And I think I see the problem. Enipses is a loyalist. Supported Ganton during the civil wars, supports Tylara and me now. The baron wants his villein back, and the church won’t turn loose their priest. That’s an easy one—”

“He was found to have both intelligence and a desire to serve Yatar,” Apelles said, “and was made an acolyte, and in due time consecrated as Priest of Yatar. He later found favor with Bheroman Enipses, who appointed him to be priest in his own household.”

Maybe it’s not so simple, Rick thought.

“The war continued. Wanax Sarakos, aided by the starmen serving Colonel Parsons, invaded the land and drove Bheroman Enipses from his castle. Nictoros remained, as was his duty, and tended the caves beneath the castle. He fled only when the usurper placed there by Sarakos dismissed him.”

“He fled to Dravan,” Yanulf said. “And assisted me there. And learned from me. He learned much about The Time, and what must be done, and showed quick wit and understanding.”

And you liked him, Rick thought. “I see.” He tried to keep his voice noncommittal.

Apelles continued the story. “Then you, Lord, defeated Sarakos and brought the starmen to your obedience. When Bheroman Enipses returned, he dismissed Nictoros as priest of his household, saying that Nictoros should have accompanied him into exile rather than remaining within the castle. Nictoros departed, but you, Lord, were pleased to appoint him priest in the Eqeta’s free town of Yirik, where there are also extensive caves and a large temple of Yatar.”

Rick looked to Yanulf. “I don’t recall the appointment. On your advice?”

“Yes. The order was signed by the Eqetessa. I did not agree with Bheroman Enipses, but certainly there was no need for dispute. Yirik was without a priest, and I had high regard for Nictoros’ abilities.” Yanulf fingered the medallion hanging from his golden chain. “It was a mistake,” he said finally. “I should have sent Nictoros to a village beyond Enipses’ domains. Perhaps even outside Chelm. But I did not. Continue, Apelles.”

“Then, Lord, came your decree, requiring each bheroman to send laborers for the madweed. And other decrees, requiring grain to feed the madweed workers. These taxes fell heavily on Enipses, for he had lost many of his villeins during the wars, and thus last autumn much of his grain rotted unharvested before the rains destroyed it.

“Then came the Westmen, and still more taxes; but meantime The Time approaches, and Nictoros attempted to prepare as commanded by Yanulf.”

Uh-oh. I see it now, Rick thought. And—

“Bheroman Enipses accused Nictoros of interfering with the collection of taxes; of taking grain belonging to the Wanax, which is a treason. But instead of applying to you for a writ to allow his constables inside Yirik, he waited with patience. This was rewarded, for Nictoros foolishly travelled beyond the town walls, and Enipses had men waiting, who brought Nictoros before the bheroman’s court. He was found guilty; and sentence of death was passed. But, because the grain taken was placed in the caves of Yatar, and because Nictoros was a priest, the sentence was remitted to enslavement.” Apelles shrugged. “He was sent here to labor in the fields of madweed. You may imagine my amazement when as I inspected the fields I was greeted in ways known only to the priesthood, and I was given a properly drafted petition of right.”

That would be a surprise. The petition of right was a monopoly of the Yatar priesthood. It implored a ruler—bheroman, eqeta, even Wanax—to obey his own laws. It didn’t have to be granted, but once it was, the matter was for the courts.

“I still don’t understand. If you present me that petition, I’ll certainly grant it. Let right be done. Then it’s a matter for judges. Bheroman Enipses may not like it, but—” He stopped, because Yanulf was shaking his head. “What now?”

“If your judges examine the matter, they will find for Bheroman Enipses,” Yanulf said. “Nictoros does not deny taking grain gathered for taxes and placing it in the caves. Nor would he return it when Enipses demanded it. Nor did the bheroman enter the caves, nay nor threaten to, but with great respect pronounced that what was done was done, and new grain must be gathered for the Wanax.”

“But he arrested the priest,” Rick said. “I see. But—if he’s guilty, whatever possessed him to send in a petition of right?”

“Perhaps he believes he was right,” Yanulf said. “Perhaps I believe he was right. But it is not law.”

“Tear up the petition,” Rick said. “I’ll issue a pardon. Or you can draft one for the Wanax to sign.”

“Would it were so simple,” Yanulf said. “But it is not. The priests of Vothan know of this. They are asking Bheroman Enipses to dismiss all the priests of Yatar within his lands.”

“In whose favor?” Rick asked.

“Perhaps they will not be replaced at all,” Yanulf said. “Or perhaps by those who mouth the words of service to Yatar, but own allegiance to Bacreugh.”

“Who the devil is Bacreugh?”

“Bacreugh is a priest of Yatar, from an order formerly known mainly in Tamaerthon. He is allied with Mac Bratach Bhreu. A kinsman, in fact.”

“I see. Drumold’s only real rival. But why is he followed in Drantos?”

“He preaches words comfortable to the nobility,” Apelles said. “And he has made strong alliance with the priesthood of Vothan.”

“More,” Yanulf said. “You have been told of the vision of the Roman Bishop Polycarp?”

“Yes. Yatar and Jehovah are one. I wonder how the Jews will feel about that . . .”

“What are Jews?” Yanulf asked.

“Followers of Jehovah, but who believe the Christ has not yet come. They have strong dietary laws, and passionately believe there is only one God.”

“There are no such in Drantos,” Yanulf said.

“And now that I think of it, it’s not likely there are any on Tran.” Until now. How many of the mercs are Jewish? Bilofsky, I suppose. Lewin. Goodman. Schultz, only he’s still down south. None of them seemed particularly devout, but you never know.

“The priesthood of Vothan laughs at Polycarp,” Yanulf said. “And they do not favor the Roman alliance. Now through the followers of Bacreugh they seek control of the caves of Yatar. Bheroman Enipses may well yield those under his castle.”

“Bacreugh and his order should be suppressed. And the priests of Vothan made humble,” Apelles said.

Oh, no, you don’t. You won’t get me involved in religious persecutions. “I do not agree. But were it desirable, it would not be possible. Vothan has powerful friends.” Including some of my mercs. They may not be believers, but they’re superstitious enough. And a lot of the army is devoted to Vothan, or at least scared of him.

“You see now why this should not be seen in open court,” Yanulf said. “And why young Apelles referred the matter to me.”

“Sure. You’re trying to undermine civil authority,” Rick said.

“Nay, Lord!” Apelles said. “We are loyal.”

I’m sure you think so. But if nothing else, you’re inventing benefit of clergy, which apparently they don’t have here. Still, the priesthood of Yatar, as organized by Yanulf, is the nearest thing to a literate civil service I have. They also have a monopoly on paper. I can’t do without them.

“First,” Rick said, “I hadn’t known how serious Enipses’ labor problem is. We’ll have to do something about that.”

“At harvest time there will be labor shortages everywhere,” Yanulf said. “It has always been so.”

Rick scribbled a note: Get Campbell working on a reaper.

“There is a machine,” Rick said. “A way to harvest grain—grain! Where is the place for Hestia in this vision of Polycarp’s?”

“As the mother of Christ,” Yanulf said. “For as you know, the Christ was born of a virgin. Polycarp preaches a doctrine which he calls ‘Immaculate Conception’, under which Hestia took on the flesh of a mortal in order to bear a son to Yatar.”

“And you believe this?”

Yanulf frowned. “I know not what to believe. One thing is certain, the prophecies of The Time are true. And they were revealed by Yatar himself. The Romans know much of The Time, and thus must once have known Yatar.” He shrugged. “Perhaps Polycarp is correct, their Jehovah is Yatar. The names are not unalike.”

“Fortunately we need not decide the matter today,” Rick said. “For the problem at hand, I will remit some of Enipses’ taxes. You will send a persuasive emissary to bear that pleasant news. Someone who will persuade Enipses that it would not be wise to make great changes in the governing of Yatar’s caves. Someone to point out that neither Wanax Ganton nor I nor Eqetassa Tylara would favor Bacreugh’s cause.”

“That may be sufficient,” Yanulf said.

“As to Nictoros, I will issue a pardon.”

“Who will make up what you remit to Enipses, Lord?” Apelles asked.

“We’ll have to work that out,” Rick said. “Maybe you could see to it?”

“We will do that,” Yanulf said.

Sure you will, Rick thought. And that’ll fall on some poor schmuck who’s irritated his local priest. But what the hell can I do?

I can get Campbell working on that reaper.

* * *

When dusk came, Jamiy brought in lamps. Rick sighed. They still hadn’t managed good lamps. These burned a mixture of oil and naphtha, and gave better light than the older tapers, but the light was still too dim, and gave him a headache. One day, he thought, I’ll need spectacles, and I won’t have them. And then what? But this has got to be done.

Ganton had summoned the chivalry of Drantos to the high plains. Rick was horrified. He could see no use for that many undisciplined heavy cavalrymen. Useful or not, though, they had to be fed. Wagons, horses, grain, all had to be found and sent in a steady stream, and since the bheromen had contributed their share and more, a lot had to come from the free towns—who weren’t anxious to provide it. Writs had to be prepared, spies sent to find new sources of wealth to tax, constables sent to harass the obstinate . . . He worked for two more hours.

“It is time, Lord.”

Rick looked up from his paperwork to see Padraic.

“The night meal is prepared. You wished to be called,” Padraic said. “The guards wait outside.”

“Thanks. Come in, Padraic. There’s wine over there. Pour some for both of us, and sit down.” Rick carefully stacked the papers and parchments and leaned back in his chair. Far out to the west he saw moving lights in the semaphore tower, and wondered what message was coming in.

When Padraic brought the wine, he lifted his glass. “Cheers,” he said, and laughed when his archer captain looked puzzled.

“An expression from my home world,” Rick explained. “Tell me, how have the men taken the news of Lord Caradoc’s promotion?”