Robert Adams - Revenge of the Horseclans

At that, Hofos bowed so far that Bili was sure the man’s forehead must soon bump against the flagstones. “Oh, Master of my master, Hofos is humiliated that he failed to recognize the redoubtable Thoheeks’ son. Hofos begs, he pleads, he most humbly beseeches forgiveness, he…”

Bili waved a hand impatiently. He had run into this kind of servant before, and knew Hofos for what he certainly was dishonest, unscrupulous, and backbiting to his betters, a vicious petty tyrant to his inferiors. Such a servant would never remain long in his employ, he had often vowed, for their unrelenting self abasement usually concealed an unrelenting hatred of their betters.

“Dammit, man, how could you recognize me, since I’ve been in Harzburk for ten years? Til forgive you. Sun and Wind, I’ll forgive you nearly anything, if you’ll just get on with it!”

Hofos bowed Bili into the hall’s foyer and conducted him to a sumptuously appointed bathingroom, where the majordomo issued a barrage of supercilious orders to a trio of bath servants, then backed out, bowing, and scurried off.

Shortly, the carven orkheads above the sunken tub commenced to spout. When the tub was filled and Bili had been expertly divested of swordbelt, boots, and clothing, the two girls and the man saw him safely into the steaming water. While he floated on his back, relaxing in the herbscented bathwater, the servingman departed with Bill’s boots and belt and weapons, while the older girl left with his clothing.

After a few minutes, the younger serving girl shed her sandals and her single garment and joined him in the tub. While she laved him from head to foot, he smilingly recalled the first time he had been so attended since his return two weeks agone.

In the northern lands, no more than one full bath per week was the norm among the nobility, though one usually sponged the dust from face and hands after a ride. If anyone at all attended a nobleman’s ablutions, it would certainly be a manservant or arming lad. So when he had first commenced a bath at Morguhn Hall and a pretty, sloe-eyed bathgirl, nude and smiling, had slipped into the water with him, he had reacted as would any Middle Kingdoms noble.

Since that time, Eeoonees had warmed his couch on a dozen nights, and his frequent conversations with her had elicited a plethora of forgotten or half-recalled facts about the distinctly different commoner-noble relationship in the Confederation. Among these nuggets of information was the fact that normally bathgirls were just what their title implied, not concubines.

By the time Komees Hari’s bathgirl had finished drying his body, the other two attendants had returned with his well brushed clothing, gleaming leather gear, and freshly polished brass fittings. A cursory glance into his belt purse assured him that the seal on the bag of gold remained unbroken, whereupon he pressed a silver half-thrahkmeh upon each of the three servants-which was far too much, as he knew, but these were the smallest coins his mothers had provided him.

At the doorway of the hall’s main room, Hofos stood to one side and bellowed, “Sun and Wind are kind. Now comes the Illustrious Bili, eldest son of our exalted lord, Hwahruhn, Thoheeks and Morguhn of Morguhn!”

Near the center of the high ceilinged chamber, beyond the circular firepit, an elderly and plainly garbed man slouched against the high table. But, when Bili entered, the old man left his place and strode to meet him with a slightly rolling pace which bespoke the fact that much of his life must have been spent ahorse. Bili assumed that this was Komees Hari.

The old nobleman’s hair was yellow white, his face was lined, and liver spots blotched his big, square hands and thick forearms; otherwise, he bore his fifty-six years admirably. For he was not stooped, though at five-and-a-half feet he was some six inches shorter than Bili, and his brown eyes glittered with intelligence. His grip on his visitor’s hand was firm until Bili actually succeeded to the duchy, he and the Komees were equals in rank and his friendly voice was deep and rolling.

“It’s as well that Hofos announced you, Bili, for I’d never have known you otherwise. You are most welcome in my hall. But… how fares Hwahruhn, lad?”

Bili shook his head and repeated all that his mothers had been told by Master Ahlee.

His host sighed. “Sacred Sun grant that when I go to Wind, it be a quick death, for if I could not ride among my herds … But it may not be so hard on Hwahruhn, for he has done little save read for near twenty years.” He sighed again, then draped a long arm about Bill’s shoulders.

Smiling, he said, “Come to my office, lad, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.

No introduction was needed to recognize the waiting stranger’s kinship to the Komees . Except for fewer lines in the face, black eyes and black hair shot with grey, he might have been Lord Hari’s twin. Nor would Bili have been hardput to name the man’s profession, for the calluses on his bluish cheeks and the bridge of his big nose, as well as the permanent dent across the forehead, could only have been caused by a helmet. White against the browned skin, cicatrices of old wounds crosshatched each other on every visible part of his burly body. As he came toward them, he favored his right leg, the thigh of which showed, below his short leather trousers, the purple pink puckering of a still healing injury.

His handgrip was as firm as that of the Komees and he precluded a formal introduction by announcing, “Now, it’s a real pleasure to meet you, young sir. I am Vaskos Daiviz, natural son of the Komees . Despite the wastage of much of my life in dissipation and varied misconduct, my father still allows me his name.” His disarming grin showed big, yellow teeth.

Komees Hari chuckled, but when he spoke a fierce pride suffused his voice. “I can think of no living man, Bili, who would not be honored to name Vaskos here his son! When he was fifteen, he enlisted as a spearman in the Army of the Confederation. Now he is a Keeleechstos and a weapons master, as well. To attest to his skill and valor, he holds the Order of the Golden Cat! And, when he returns to Kehnooryos Atheenahs from this convalescent leave, he is to be appointed a Substrahteegos. Could any man own a finer son?”

Blushing and fidgeting with embarrassment, the general-to-be gazed at the floortiles. Then, clearing his throat, he changed the subject before more could be said. “My father’s wine is superb, sir. But he must talk forever, ere he offers it. My wind is not so long and very little. Speech tends to dry my throat.”

Bili found that the wine was indeed superb. When, after the ritual of mutual healths and toasts to the High Lord and The Morguhn, the cups were refilled, Komees Hari apologized for the absence of his wife and daughters, chuckling ruefully.

“Your arrival, Bili, has set my girls all aflutter especially Eeyohahnah and Mehleesah, who are at or near marriageable age … though where I’ll get the gold to dower two more daughters is in the lap of Sacred Sun!”

He shook his white head. “I suppose that peace is wonderful for many of our Confederation, but it spells hard times for a man whose livelihood is the breeding of war horses, what with high taxes and a profusion of daughters to be adequately dowered.

“You see, lad, Vaskos is my only son. None of my wives’ male infants lived more than a couple of weeks; and, can I secure Council’s approval, he’ll be my heir. How could any Council refuse to grant legitimacy to a Strahteegos of our Confederation? Although after I’ve provided dots for Eeyohahnah and Mehleesah and little Behtee, my title, my sword, and my ledgerbooks are about all I’ll probably be able to leave him.