Robert Adams - A Cat of Silvery Hue

Nearly a hundred and fifty years of witnessing and sometimes attempting to ameliorate Aldora’s infatuations and tantrums had vouchsafed Milo great familiarity with her character. And although he had known her but bare days, he also recognized Mother Mahrnee, old Hwahruhn of Morguhn’s youngest widow, for a woman similar in many ways to Aldora—which might be part of why Ahndros loved her. She loved him, as well, and would violently oppose any attempt on Aldora’s part to rewin the nobleman’s affections. A stand-up fight betwixt the Undying Lady Aldora—who, like Milo, could not be slain by steel-could have but one certain outcome, and the rebellion had sown enough discord in Morguhn without the addition of a so surely tragic duel.

The Confederation troopers, guided by the young thoheeks’ Freefighters and Kindred, fanned out through the duchy. Their orders were simple and merciless: take anyone suspected of being noble or priest alive, if at all possible; burn all Ehleen churches; reclaim and garrison all Kindred property; slay any non-noble, male or female, who essayed either fight or flight; slay any non-noble discovered in possession of sword or pike or war gear, burning his home, if possible; burn any village or hamlet found to be harboring rebels.

While the cavalry went ravening through the countryside and the main army marched from the trade city of Kehnooryos Deskahti, which had been secured earlier, Milo left Aldora to command the Morguhnpolis garrison and rode with a large force under the nominal command of Thoheeks Bili upon the duchy’s two remaining cities, Theftehrospolis and Lohfahspolis. Neither were actually cities, only large villages wherein a nobleman had his seat, nor were they walled.

Nor did either resist. The people of Theftehrbspolis, indeed, welcomed the troops with open arms, having been much bedeviled of late by small bands of rebels fleeing across the nearby southern border. They proved as unreservedly loyal as their lord, Vahrohneeskos Ahndros, who had come by his grievous wounds in defense of Thoheeks Bili and the High Lord. Lohfahspolis, formerly seat of Vahrohneeskos Stehfahnos, the first noble rebel to die, was found to be as bare of life as had been Morguhnpolis. The thoheeks allowed the troopers free rein in looting the sprawling village, and himself, sent back a groaning wagon of loot from the late Stehfahnos’ palace. Then the torch was put to every structure, not even the privies being spared.

Nestled as it was in the far southeast of Morguhn, a long day’s ride from Morguhnpolis, with the Great Southern Forest lying between it and any other occupied area, Horse Hall—and Lady Hehrah, its chatelaine—remained blissfully unaware of the abysmal failure of the rebellion and the utter rout of the crusaders.

The komeesa, who now considered herself to be Hari’s widow, lolled in the very lap of her dreams. Not only was her faith now the only allowed faith in the county—and, she surmised, in the duchy—but at long last, after many dragging years of suffering the unwarranted persecutions and gainsayings of her barbarian husband, she was victorious. Savoring her triumph, she laid a heavy and pitiless hand upon Horse County and all who dwelt there.

The threescore or so inhabitants of Horse Hall village had not been particularly upset when the priest and hall men had come and taken the child, assuming that bluff old Lord Hari would shortly ride in and either return the boy or explain why he was needed at the hall. But when, the very next morning, some of the same hall men had come and, after beating the village headman senseless, had seized, bound and borne off his pretty young wife, grinningly informing all and sundry that their hysterical captive was henceforth to have the honor of being Lady Hehrah’s love girl, there were mutters of an appeal to the komees, upon his return from Morguhnpolis.

Danos, confirmed captain of the komeesa’s guard after his report of Gaios’ demise, had laughed harshly. “Then you bastards will have a damned long wait! That blaspheming pagan is now burning in Hell, his stinking corpse so much offal. You had all best heed me. Heed me well!

“My Lady Hehrah now has the power of life or death over you and your wives and your snotty brats. It is her right to claim whatever, whomever, she wishes. It is your duty to render her honor, to accede freely to her every request or demand. If you fail in this, your duty, you will be made to suffer or to die for the crime.”

The stunned villagers stood, silently listening to the cold, sharp words of the arrogant horseman, aware of their helplessness against so many armed men.

Danos continued, “Now, my lady feels that this village has been too long without a House of God. Since God is Lord of all, He must be served with the best we can offer. The Holy Pavlos, sub-kooreeos of this county, will be here shortly to bless the shack whence this wench came; it will be used as a church until you have time to build a proper one.”

Then they clattered out of the village toward Horse Hall.

But within a few hours they were back to seize another child. And after that, another … and another … and another!

When, a week after their first incursion, Danos led his men into the village, it was empty, deserted. The trail led into the forest, but knowing that horsemen would be at a disadvantage in the dense, trackless underbrush, Danos halted his troop and rode back to the hall.

Although Lady Hehrah was violent in her rage at being denied the simple, holy pleasure of a sacrificial ceremony whenever she felt the need for one, Sub-kooreeos Pavlos was mightily relieved. His throat was grown raw from so much chanting, and the shrill screams of two or three victims each day were just too much, setting his nerves on edge and his head to throbbing. Also relieved were those servants whose chore it had been to bury the hacked little corpses; digging was, after all, hard work.

One balmy dawn, a pair of men rode big warhorses along the Forest Road. Sacred Sun’s rays sparkled and glittered upon the polished surfaces of their three-quarter armor. The faces of the two riders were remarkably similar in cast as well as grim expression. So alike were they that one might have surmised them brothers, since both appeared of middle years. But they were actually father and son, though a bare sixteen years separated them in age.

Behind them, in column of twos, rode a score of Thoheeks Bili’s picked Freefighters and three full troops of Confederation kahtahfrahktoee or heavy cavalry.

At the place where an almost invisible game trail crossed the road, Komees Hari Daiviz and Vaskos Daiviz drew rein and conferred with Captain Linstahk, commander of the Confederation troops.

“This is the way of which I spoke last night, Gaib,” said the komees. “We’d best leave half a troop here, in case the swine flee along this road … though I doubt me they’ll head into Morguhn.”

The young captain frowned thoughtfully. “Why not a platoon then, Lord Hari? Surely thirty of my troopers will be sufficient to deal with any number of the scum we’ve encountered so far.”

The old nobleman shrugged. “Whatever you think best, Gaib, for you do know your men better than I.”

So it was that the chosen platoon, grumbling as soldiers always have and always will, watched the last of the long, single column finally disappear among the trees, heading roughly west and south.

The mixed column, paralleling the course of Forest Creek, clove to the woods path almost to the unmarked border between Horse County and Sheep County, domain of Komees Djeen Morguhn, forded the creek and then followed another game trail and a succession of tiny glades, heading almost due south. They rode in silence—no bugle or shouts, all orders being transmitted in hushed tones from each rider to the one behind. They rode with visors down and beavers up, bows strung, arrows nocked, swords out, though due to the narrowness of the ways they traversed, targets were left slung.