Robert Adams - The Death of a Legend

Between his eyrie and that tower sprawled a commodious stone-and-timber palace. It could be called nothing else, being far and away too large to be designated bouse. Light was now commencing to pour from windows that looked to be glazed, and a host of figures were to be seen scurrying hither and yon between the main structure and its semi-connected outbuildings.

The prince waved down at the brightly lit building. “Sandee’s Cot, young cousin, our destination. You and I, your lady, nobles and officers will bide there this night The Teenéhdjook and your troopers, Ahrmehnee and common Moon Maidens will find comfort in yon tower, along with the bulk of my own men. Those few from here will be seeking out their own homes, of course.”

As the prince told it on their slow walk down to the cot, the late Count Sandee had fallen in a battle against the outlaws a few months back. He had died without issue—legitimate or otherwise—and so his mark and county were being held for the crown by the grizzled old warrior who had been seneschal, Sir Steev Stanlee—severely, hideously scarred, missing most of his front teeth, all of the right and part of the left ear, as well as all or part of several thick fingers. The old fighter bustled about his multitudinous duties with a stiff-legged limp which told the experienced eye the tale of a once-smashed knee, but for all his old scars and maimings, he was friendly, jolly and virtually abrim with a hearty gallows humor which instantly attracted Bili.

The central chamber of Sandee’s Cot was not so long as that of Morguhn Hall—Bill’s birthplace and home in the Duchy of Morguhn, far to the east—nor so wide, nor were its furnishings and hangings so rich or so varied, but it was nonetheless at least comfortable, wanned and partially lit as it was by the wide and high fireplaces at either end.

Smoky tallow lamps were set in highly polished wall sconces and in man-high standing holders the length and breadth of the room, imparting along with their dim and flaring light a -persistent burned-meat odor. But on the dais which supported the high table, tapers of fine beeswax in candelabra of chiseled copper gave illumination for the prince, Bili, Rahksahnah, Vahrtahn Panosyuhn, Vahk Soormehlyuhn, Vahrohneeskos Gneedos Kahmruhn of Skaht, Senior Lieutenant of Freefighters Frehd Brakit and old Sir Steev.

Those at the high table commenced their meal with a clear meat broth, pungent with dried onions, garlic and herbs, then went on to succulent little fishes, each coated with meal and fried to crispness; fresh-baked breads and roasted potatoes and mounds of pickled cabbage, turnips and parsnips accompanied the roasted and boiled meats—mutton and pork for the lower tables, lamb and kid and larded venison for the high. Then they were served salty, double-baked breads and various cheeses, along with cellar-hung apples, strawbarrel pears and assorted nuts for the distinguished guests.

Cracking nuts for himself and Rahksahnah in his powerful hands, Bili felt that he had not dined so well since last he had left Morguhn Hall, months agone. When he had washed down the sweet nutmeats with a swallow of honey ale, he addressed himself to the prince.

“Prince Byruhn, your vassal sets a truly noble table. It has been long since I feasted so well and fully.”

Byruhn chuckled good-naturedly. “Do not expect any better than that we all just enjoyed even at my father’s court, Duke Bili. It ever is a great pleasure to me, being a man who admittedly takes an abiding joy in his victuals, to visit Sandee’s Cot, for the meals if nothing else.

“The vales herein are rich and well watered, the black loam lies deep over the bones of the mountains, and Sandee’s folk are consummate farmers and stockmen, fishponders and hunters. Were all my father’s lands so productive and well tended…” He sighed, and a look of dark sadness crossed his face. “It be enough to make a strong man weep in pure frustration, noble cousin; for all or, at the least, full many of the vales and glens hereabouts could produce similarly, were we but able to at last extirpate these damned renegade outlaws, so that full-time farming and stockraising would be not only possible but worthwhile. “As matters now lie in this part of the realm, the miserable folk outside the few safe glens, such as this one, are sore afeared of giving any appearance over that of bare subsistence, lest the damnable raiders come and strip bare their lands and barns and homes and fields. And I, alas, have never been able to number enough skilled fighters to smash these outlaws… ere now.”

Bili wrinkled his brow in puzzlement. “Were our two positions reversed, my lord prince, I’d simply drum up the spear levy, put pikes in the hands of every man I owned between the ages of fifteen and forty-five, and set my retainers to drilling them. I’d use my mounted force to harry the outlaws, nip the bastards so shrewdly and so often that they’d have to finally come to me and stand at bay. Then I’d use my seasoned fighters to hold them in place, like a good pack of veteran boarhounds, until the levy could be force-marched up to butcher the scoundrels. My lord is a wise and war-canny man—I am much surprised that either he or his royal sire has not done such as I just detailed, long since.”

Old Sir Steev snorted, his scarred face twisted in utter disgust. “Oh, aye, and in my lord duke’s own lands, wherein I doubt me not that such a commoner levy would have man-parts a-swinging betwixt their two legs, such a strategy would doubtless work… and often has, in times agone. But not here, my lord duke, assuredly not in these lands, and most assuredly not with these eternally cursed Ganiks!

“Not in a land mainly peopled by mealy-mouthed, addle-pated, god-haunted buggers who’ll scream blue murder if they be raped or robbed and some few of our poor overworked garrison not be near about to prevent it or, at least, avenge it, but who’ll not themselves raise a hand to aid themselves or even keep a steel dirk or a spear on their farms!”

With a heavy sigh, the prince responded to Bili’s look of consternation. “If you are thinking, my young cousin, that such as Sir Steev has described be most unlike the breed of burkers, you be assuredly right, it is not. But then, outside the safe glens, very few of the landworkers be descended of Kuhmbuhluhners. Most of the folk over whom my house holds tenuous sway are an exceeding strange people who had drifted into this stretch of mountains only a few years earlier than did my forebears and their few thousands loyalist supporters.

“These non-Kuhmbuhluhners cannot be called a tribe, for they are not—they none of them recognize any central chief or any council of elders. Each family group is, rather, ruled by the eldest able-bodied male member. Few of these families are more than very distantly related, blood-wise, for they almost always cleave strictly to their own, all manner of incest being their way of life for generations if not centuries. Only their common religion, their most unusual customs and singular habits mark them as similar.”

Bili sought through his recent memory for a moment, and at last he located that endless word used by the two Ahrmehnee headmen. “These, then, these non-Kuhmbuhluhners, would be what the Ahrmehnee call Orgahnikahnsehrvaishuhnee, lord prince?”

Prince Byruhn nodded. “Aye, that’s one of their names for themselves, though in practice it’s usually shortened to Ganik. They are a stiff-necked, self-righteous people who boldly claim direct descent from the very Earth Gods themselves. They prate on endlessly of the beauty and the purity of their bare, drab, deprived and religion-dominated life-style. They never cease to proselytize among any folk who are happier than they are, and they have even been heard to solemnly attest that had the Earth Gods, the folk who ruled these lands of old, adopted their own narrow and cheerless beliefs, the War of the Gods might never have occurred!”