Robert Adams - The Death of a Legend

Sir Steev’s lined and scarred face looked worried, and the same disquietude was clear in his voice. “Lord prince, you have given me leave to speak freely, so I’ll say this: whatall you are doing with these lowlanders may not be truly wrong, but it’s not right, either, not by a long shot. Count Sandee would not’ve—”

“Pah!” Prince Byruhn waved a hand through the smoke he had just expelled. “Old Sandee was a senile, doddering fool, and he’s well dead, so far as the kingdom’s interests are concerned.

“And that, old friend, is all that should be of importance to either of us, just now—the good of the kingdom. You know and I know that my father must have more troops, a stronger force in the north… and soon. Yet there is, or has been, no way that we could strip the garrisons from the safe glens here in the south. “Oh, not because of fear for our own; the damned Ganiks know better than to try to take one of the glens. But without patrols to sting them now and again, those damned outlaws and their ‘peaceable’ kin would long since have so incited the Ahrmehnee that we would’ve found ourselves with an invasion from the southeast as well as from the northwest, and in such a sorry pass, you could kiss the kingdom goodbye. New Kuhmbuhluhn would be ground between the two like grist, and the only sure winners would likely be these contemptible Ganiks.

“What I am doing, what I am having the Kleesahk do for me—for us, all of us, really—-is eminently practical and vitally necessary… but it is clearly not honorable, and no doubt my overactive conscience will see to it that I suffer long and hard for it, in times to come.

“But for the nonce, old friend, I can see naught else I can do, am I to see the kingdom preserved for my nephew and his sons and theirs. I’ll see to it that all of these strangers are amply rewarded for those services they render the kingdom—land, if they want it, gold, if they prefer. Could anything be fairer than that, I ask?”

“Yes,” said Sir Steev, “although you’d prefer not to hear it The fair thing would be to allow them to choose freely, their minds unobscured by the craft of the Kleesahk.”

The prince sighed. “Another blunt, honest nobleman today.

And I agree with you… up to a point. But what you counsel is the one thing that I cannot afford to chance.

“Don’t you see, Steev, with these two-hundred-odd new troops to take command of this glen, I can take two thirds of the present garrison north, along with a good half of the other two garrisons. Not truly large numbers of troops, true, but perhaps enough to tip the balance at a crucial moment… and I feel that ultimate test looming closer with every fiber of my body.

“Then, when the outlaws are broken and the man-eating Ganiks have been started moving south, out of our lands and our hair, it will be another matter. Then we will be able to offer free choice to the strangers—either leave unopposed for their own homelands, bearing our sincere thanks and a bit of specie, or take their full oaths to me or to my father and receive lands and possibly a title, if they be gentleborn.”

Sir Steev just shook his head. “I can see why my lord prince feels that he must do as he is doing, of course, but still I like it not. It smacks of treachery, to me. and no good ever came from such underhandedness. But I am your man, as you well know, so I will do as I be bid.”

Prince Byruhn nodded. “I know, Steev, and I appreciate both your honesty and your loyalty. Here is what I want done. As soon as Duke Bili and his folk are on the hip, you are to form up all of the men who don’t have close family ties in this glen. I’ve figured it closely; that will leave some hundred and fifty men of fighting age to aid and be guides for the strangers, with the young’uns and the gaffers manning the gate and the outer defenses; it’s worked before and it will work again, I doubt me not, and it won’t be for long, in any case. I don’t think that even the hard-core outlaws will try to stand against so many armored professionals on those big horses, not they, who are afraid to stand and fight Ahrmehnee even, unless they outnumber mem on an order of ten to one.”

Sir Steev frowned. “But the Ganiks are all past-master bushwhackers, and these strangers don’t know the country, for all their skills and equipage and fine horseflesh.”

“Which is why,” Byruhn went on patiently, “every unit of them that rides out of here for whatever purpose will have guides from this glen—men who do know the lay of the land hereabouts. Duke Bili himself is extraordinarily gifted with telepathic abilities and certain other rare mental talents that Pah-Elmuh has recognized and noted, and he also has those two prairiecats, so there’ll be no bushwhacking of him and his immediate party by Ganiks or anyone else.

“As regards the others, well, our Elmuh desires to stay, ostensibly to see the wounded strangers healthy again, but I think his real reason is his desire to stay near to Duke Bili, and I am inclined to agree. I’ll only take four Kleesahk with me, leaving Elmuh and five others here; one or two accompanying each party should preclude any ambushers scoring on them.”

“And what of me, lord prince?” inquired Sir Steev. “Do I ride north with my lord or do I remain in Sandee’s Cot?”

Rather than answering directly, Byruhn asked, but gently, knowing beforehand that it was a sore point with the late middle-aged warrior. “Steev, are you not the only surviving son of the late Count Sandee?”

“Aye,” Sir Steev snapped, his eyes hard and his lips become a thin, straight line. “But never so acknowledged in the count’s lifetime, my lord, not even after your grace knighted me and the old man’s sons got on the right side of the blanket were all slain.”

“Nonetheless, Steev, you know and I know and my father and a goodly number of other folk, as well. Therefore, as you are widely known to be the last living son of Count Sandee, my father and I both agree that it were senseless to allow the title to remain vacant. Before I leave this glen, I intend to publicly invest you, old friend, and you will remain here as the kingdom’s Count of the South and, as such, in overall command of the three safe glens, their garrisons and the mobile units between. Is that answer enough to your original question, Count Sandee?” The prince paused, but when no answer was forthcoming, he snapped, “Well, man?”

Poor old Sir Steev gave every appearance of having been clubbed near senseless. He shook his head slowly from side to side and, although his lips moved ceaselessly, no sounds came from between them. At last, he managed to stutteringly mumble, “No… but I… no, your grace is… no, I’m… not worthy of such honor…”

“Poppycock!” snorted Byruhn. “If I say you’re worthy, if my father, the king, says you’re worthy, who are you to disagree, eh? And we do so say, Count Steev. By fire and Steel, man, you’ve served the kingdom the most of your life, and served well, too, else you’d not be a knight, gentle blood or no.”

The old knight had recovered a little, enough at least to speak more coherently. “But… but only my sire was gentle-born, your grace, and he never once granted me any kind of… and my mother was the daughter of a Ganik slave, got by a common man-at-arms, and…”

“And no one of us ever got the chance to choose our mothers… or our fathers, either, for that matter,” stated Byruhn baldly, “and the asinine beliefs of these half-mad Ganiks be damned; we have no choice but to play the cards that fickle fortune deals us, be the total hand good or foul. Agreed?”

When no reply was immediately forthcoming, Byruhn clenched his big right hand and slammed the side of the fist onto the tabletop to get his companion’s attention. He did.