Robert Adams - Horseclans' Odyssey

“A part of it, Tchariee,” replied the old man.

“Well, then, I’ll just have to make the time,” stated the duke baldly. Turning to his chamberlain, he ordered, “Sir Rahdjuh, have a keg of the dark beer and a few decanters of brandy—my private stock, mind you, man—taken to the shipowners and make your apology that I keep them waiting. Don’t go into any details with them… affairs of state, et cetera; you know it all, man, you’ve alibied me often enough.”

“But, your grace…” the chamberlain began, until a curt gesture of the duke’s hand cut him off.

“Not a word. Sir Rahdjuh! I feel the press of time as keenly as do you, but here’s a man I cannot deny. Before you were born, was Sir Peetuh Bohwlz risking his life and truly beggaring himself to help me consolidate lands and power. His five brave sons died while fighting under my banner, and his daughter’s husband suffered such grievous wounds that he has not walked again in thirty years. “But never has Sir Peetuh been willing to accept a single acre or one ounce of silver from me in return for all his and his house’s sacrifices. Now he comes asking an hour or so of my time. How can I refuse him, Sir Rahdjuh?”

“But, your grace…”

“I said, not one word. Sir Rahdjuh. I have given you a task to perform elsewhere. Do your duty, sirrah!”

The chamberlain knew better than to argue with his master when his voice acquired such a tone.

As soon as most of the foot soldiers had been called up and assembled in and around Twocityport, Martuhn scraped together enough mounts, of a sort, to place almost a hundred of his own mercenary infantry in saddles and sent them into the countryside by squads, each in command of a veteran officer or sergeant or, at least, a corporal. Their task to flush out any sound, sturdy beggars or vagabonds and bring them back for impressment into the ranks, to recruit among the uncommitted farmers and villagers and to chivvy along supplies due but not yet delivered to the marshaling point Because the heavy horse was to embark first, Martuhn kept his infantry units camped at a short distance from the city, leaving the closer campgrounds vacant for the imminent arrival of the cavalry, the only exceptions being his own company, the garrison archers and crossbowmen and the citadel engineers, whom he suffered to remain in the citadel.

Tirelessly, he threw himself and his staff into the tasks of organizing the minutiae of the call-up and movement of above ten thousand warm bodies; inspecting weapons and equipment and repairing or replacing, where necessary; sending home any who chanced to be seriously ill or diseased, especially if their ills were of a contagious nature; ruling upon the pleas for exemption, and these were many for many of these men were but bare weeks returned home from the last campaign when summoned again; receiving and inspecting supply shipments, then apportioning them, marking them for the various units and for their shipping times.

Whenever he was not in the citadel courtyard, which was now become a supply dump, or in one or another of the far-flung camps, he could be found on the cable docks, attending to the embarkment of supplies, remounts and replacements for the lancers and dragoons of Duke Tcharlz’s force already engaged against the nomads… and suffering as badly as had the men of Duke Alex, if the steady stream of casualties said anything. Nor was this intelligence unknown or unnoticed by the marshaled troops; desertions or attempted desertions rose afresh with each arrival of a bargeload of maimed, mutilated and demoralized lancers and dragoons from the fierce fighting on the west bank.

All that Martuhn could do was to order larger and stronger camp-security details posted on a twenty-four-hour basis and to supplement them with roving patrols of mule-mounted men from his own company of professionals. That, and hope that Duke Tcharlz and his heavy horse arrived on time or, best of all, ahead of schedule, that he might the quicker embark his foot The “hour” was now approaching three hours, since Tcharlz had closeted himself with Sir Peetuh, Sir Huhmfree and the other gentlemen of their entourage. He had pored over the entire “testimony” of the madam, Yohahna, twice and then reread portions’ a third time. The chamberlain had intruded three times; he was ordered out twice, and the third time Tcharlz had thrown his belt dagger at him. Finally, he slumped back in his chair. “Uncle, Huhmfree, gentlemen, had you or anyone else lodged such charges against some of these men, unsupported, I’d have adjudged you madmen. But how to discount such lengthy and detailed testimony… ?” “I am only sorry that there is no way I can be around to see these malefactors’ dragged here to Pirates’ Folly and fitted with fetters and lodged on the lower levels to contemplate until they can be brought to trial. The witness, this female monster, she still lives?”

Sir Huhmfree answered, “Oh, yes, your grace, we… I… have taken exceeding care in her regard. Those nursing and guarding her are all my good and unceasingly faithful folk.”

“Beware she doesn’t bribe them, boy,” growled Tcharlz. “After all in which she and these other scoundrels have been involved over the years—-and not one single cent of taxes paid to me out of their nefarious enterprises, I’ll wager you!—she must be richer than Duke Alex, over yonder.”

Sir Huhmfree smiled like a cat with a mouse between his paws. “She already tried that, your grace, and the folk she would’ve bribed came directly to me. I bade them behave with her as if she’d bought them, but to demand at least a part of the bribe in advance. They did my bidding, and thus I was able to get my hands’ on her hidden store of gold… all of it. And that, your grace, is how I have, this day, delivered to Sir Shawn Bailee, your treasurer, two hundred and six pounds of pure gold, about half in the form of various coin, the rest in two-, three- or five-pound sandmold bars.” At this, Duke Tchariz beamed beatifically on his bastard, Sir Peetuh and the others. “Sir Rahdjuht” he roared. “I know damned well you’re out there. To me, immediately!”

When the chamberlain had edged warily into the room (he knew that the duke did not have another dagger, but all five of these knights had at least one), Tchariz, appearing to be in a rare good humor, told him, “Chase those parsimonious, beer- and brandy-swilling swine of shipowners out of the castle. We no longer need them or their lousy monies.

“Wait, before you do that, send me my chief scribe; tell him to bring two more scribes, wax, ribbons and the seal. I’ll be issuing some arrest warrants’ for immediate service, so have Baron Hahrvee Sheeld stand by, and alert Master Kahks, down belowstairs, that we’ll need a good dozen of his lowest, dankest, slimiest cells, plus that many sets of the heaviest fetters to be fitted and riveted.”

The chamberlain nodded, rapidly making notes as the orders were given. Then he looked up and asked, “Your grace, if you will be issuing warrants, perhaps Baron Lapkin might be of an assistance? He has just ridden up from Pahdookahport and now waits in the anteroom of your audience chamber.” At his words, the chamberlain was deeply shocked to hear a Snarled string of foul curses and epithets issue from the aged lips of Sir Peetuh Bohwlz, from whom he never could recall having heard a single harsh or off-color word. Softly, but firmly, Tchariz said, “Hold your place, and your temper, just a bit longer, Uncle Peetuh. You’ll have every last gram of your vengeance soon enough. But this is a duchy of law and things must be done legally. “Sir Rahdjuh, courteously request that the learned and most honorable Baron Lapkin join us… oh, and I’ll have six of my foot guards outside the door to this chamber, at once.”