Robert Adams - Horseclans' Odyssey

But that would be killing the goose, he reflected; the last river lord who had tried that stratagem had gotten every ounce of gold that he needed for that particular project, but while he was otherwise engaged, the merchants and shipowners had loaded their families and portable possessions onto their ships and set sail for healthier ports. Some of his Pahdookahport shippers and merchants were, in fact, a portion of that very exodus. If he could only lay hands to as little as a hundred pounds of gold… But the duchy was bled white, legally, and this distasteful business seemed the only way.

The merchants’ council was the first group to come to the castle, and, although their rates were as steep as he had known that they would be, they Seemed to know just how far they could push him and did not venture beyond that point; and, save one, all were in favor of extending the duke the sizable loan. The one dissenter was Urbahnos, the self-styled “Lord,” though the man held no title that any ruler along the Ohyoh River would recognize and honor. The duke wondered if it was his imagination working upon the open secret of the Ehleen’s terrible mutilation that made him think to hear a higher tone to the unfortunate man’s voice.

“Your grace is quick to come to us when he needs assistance—and very expensive assistance at that—but when is he willing to assist us, eh?” Old Gaib Fai, senior of the council in age, wealth and standing, spoke in his usual whining voice, constantly rubbing together hands that looked as fleshless as the feet of a bird. “Urbahnos, yer outa place to tawk to the duke lak thet. Duke Tcharlz, he’s allus bin a good’un, not oncet has he evun thawt “bout doing suthin’ to his honest, law-’biding merchants and factors and shippers, lak a puling pocket-king I kin recawl done to me and sum others, oncet.” Urbahnos’ lips twisted in a mirthless smile. ‘I’d lay long odds, old man, that Duke Tcharlz has, indeed, thought about doing that very thing… and more than once; but he knows better than to commit Such a folly.

“No, the only nomads who interest me are my two dear little adopted sons, illegally held for many long months by the infamous Count Martuhn at the citadel in Twocityport Baron Lapkin himself pled my case before your grace many weeks past, and your grace at that time did promise the return of my two sweet sons—although your grace refused to force this ducal officer to pay blood price for my two valued and loyal retainers slain by this officer’s troops; nor would your grace even make the effort to bring to justice my escaped slave, Nahseer—a ruthless, sadistic and highly dangerous man, who injured and robbed me before escaping.

“As for those nomads across the river, I have no fear of them for I am leaving Pahdookahport immediately your grace makes good his sworn word and returns to my loving arms my two small sons, Bahb and Djoh. My house is sold, and my animals, slaves and bulkier effects, but I refuse to be a party to this loan, not to a single bent copper of it. Do you all hear? This trouble is not my affair and I’ll not be involved in it” Tcharlz inwardly squirmed for a few moments, then the perfect solution to the problem occurred to him. “Master Urbahnos, I have expended time and resources in attempting to obtain those boys for you, as I promised you I would; I still would be so engaged, had not this nomad threat arisen, so do not try to throw the lie in my teeth, Ehleen.

“Count Martuhn is a very stubborn man—every bit as stubborn as am I—and it is his desire to adopt those boys himself, nor does he trust you. He thinks that your plan is to get the boys out of my sphere of influence and then sell them as slaves. Do you have this intent, Master Urbahnos?” Dark blood suffused the Ehleen’s features and his black eyes blazed with what appeared to be anger. “Of course not, your grace! The concept is outrageous, ridiculous. I… I…” “If you’ll hold your temper and your tongue for a few moments, Master Urbahnos,” Tcharlz admonished, “I’ll tell you and these other men—in strictest confidence, understand; if one word of it comes back to me from whatever source, my operatives will surely trace it back and excise the loose, flapping tongue—of how you may lay hands on the nomad boys.

“In all legal matters, masters, possession is now and has always been nine-tenths of the law, which is why I had to resort to using diplomacy against Count Martuhn. But if you, Master Urbahnos, were in possession of the boys and a-ship for points east… d”you get my drift?”

“I should just ride a coach into that citadel, I suppose, big as brass, and say, ‘Lord count, I have come for my sons.’ Is that it, your grace? Fagh, the man would let that savage, Nahseer, kill me… if he did not do it himself!” Urbahnos answered hotly.

Tcharlz shook his head patiently. “Within ten days—less than that, I hope—both I and Count Martuhn will be on the other side of the river and neither of us will be able to return quickly; the boys will be alone in the citadel with a bare handful of guards, if that. Hire you some tough men, ride to Twocityport and retake what is legally yours, man. That’s what I’d do, in your boots.” The next day, as he was on his way to his conference with the council of shipowners, a few of whom were also on the council of merchants, he was approached by one of his host of bastards, Sir Huhmfree Gawlin, and three other gentlemen.

“Huhmfree, lad!” Grinning, he clasped the young man’s hand in his own big paw and clapped him on the back affectionately. “Have you, then, raised your lances so soon? Now, here’s an obedient subject for you, gentlemen—never one to dawdle when his duty calls.”

“Your grace,” said Huhmfree, “my force and I shall be in the appointed place at the appointed hour. However, these gentlemen and I, we have a matter most urgent which we must discuss with your grace… in private, if it be your pleasure.” The duke frowned, then shook his head vehemently. “However important or urgent, Huhmfree, it will just have to wait until I’ve driven off those damned Horseclanners, over the river yonder. At this very moment, in fact, I’m due to grovel before a pack of commoner swine for a few pounds of gold to buy me troops and horses and supplies.”

“Your grace… Tcharlee?” The eldest of the group of gentlemen, a venerable, white-haired and -bearded figure with the still-erect bearing, the movements and the stance of an old soldier, stepped from the knot and extended a veined and bony hand to touch the duke’s arm.

His every feature radiating true and unabashed pleasure, the duke half turned to embrace the ancient warmly. “My steel, but it’s good to clap my eyes on you again, Uncle Peetu. You frequent my court far too seldom, in recent years, and I find myself often yearning for the sight of you, for the sound of your voice.” “You know why I am so infrequently in public, Tchariee… ah, your grace,” answered the old man softly, his faded-blue eyes misting slightly. Tcharlz nodded once, stiffly; his lips became a thin line. “And you know that I, that we all, grieve with you, uncle, though perhaps not so broodingly as you. Were you ever able to determine just what happened, what was the exact fate of your granddaughter?”

The aged man nodded his grim-faced head, his eyes hard and frosty as arctic ice. “I but recently learned, thanks to Sir Huhmfree’s invaluable assistance, who bore sweet Mahrtha away, to where and at what powerful man’s order, and I learned how and by whose hand she was murdered. I come to you seeking justice, Tchariee, although were I a younger man or were my sons still living, I’d handle the matter myself.”

The duke pursed his lips. “Is this the matter of great urgency of which Huhmfree spoke, uncle?”