Eric Flint: Much Fall Of Blood

Benito knew then that he had been right to bring his grandfather into it. Enrico Dell'este would be taken seriously on this subject, by such a man. Benito Valdosta would not be. Not yet.

"Two things. Firstly, numbers. The warrior of the harsh lands can kill five times as many soft lowlander soldiers-but there are fifty men from the fat fertile lowlands to one from the harsh mountains. And the other factor is money. It is hard enough to scrape a living off these bare hills, let alone buy good weapons or keep a large standing army. The second sons of the mountains, and cold northlands too, go off raiding or as mercenaries because there is not enough food or land."

Iskander grunted irritably. "I accept that the Old Fox is right on this. But I have a people and a land to hold, and, yes, to reclaim that which was taken from us. We shape our fighting around harvests and fieldwork. Short sharp raids are our way."

"And you need the grain and cattle and sheep of the lowlands to keep your people alive in winter. But you cannot press your advantage, because the food needs to get home. So, you win each battle… and lose the fertile valley lands, because you cannot hold them. Or if the tribe moves to soft lands, they too become soft and lose their battles."

Iskander raised his chin, and stared down at Benito, eyes narrow. "So, Benito. The Old Fox's grandson does not lead me down this path only to tell me that I cannot win. How do we avoid this trap?"

Benito smiled. "I told you. You sit astride a trade route. In the long term, trade will bring your people far more than the loot from one raid, or even from one trade caravan. You can keep the second and even third sons home, as warriors. There will be fighting on the borders."

"More when there is a rich prize like a trade route to be seized, or competition to be blocked," said Iskander.

Benito drank some of the plum liquor. "Nothing is for nothing," he said with a grin.

Iskander nodded. "You speak very persuasively. What does Venice gain from this?"

"A route around Alexius. More traffic. And someone who will lose much trade if they go to war with us," said Benito.

"Clever, " said Iskander.

"It's this stuff we are drinking. Enough of it and anything sounds clever." Benito swayed to his feet. "I just hope Taki really does sail better when he's drunk or we may end up in Vinland instead of Corfu."

"Magic is not some cheap fairground trick, for the entertainment of fools, easily done and cheap in the price it asks," said Eneko Lopez, calmly but firmly. "And you know we do not act for earthly thrones or powers."

"This isn't exactly an earthly power," said Manfred wryly.

"It still means mixing in the affairs of governments, princes and kings, to say nothing of emperors."

"And what are the alternatives, Eneko?" asked Manfred. "That we should all sit on our hands waiting for the lightning to fall? You know as well as I do that Jagiellon has motives which reach far beyond mere geographical conquest. At least you should know that, seeing as you have told me so."

Lopez lowered his heavy brow and peered at Manfred from under it. "Don't play your semantic games with me, Manfred of Brittany," said the cleric grimly. "God gave us responsibility, so that we might use it. Not so that we could rationalize doing just what we wanted to do."

"Well," said Manfred, "At the end of the day it is your decision." He turned and walked out.

Eric followed, looking rather bemused. "I thought that you were going to make sure that he sent a message to the emperor?" he said, once they were outside.

"I have," said Manfred grinning, showing his large square teeth. "You cannot force someone like Eneko Lopez to do something by telling them that they must."

Eric raised an eyebrow, "So you tell him that he must not? That's Kari-level logic."

Manfred shook his head. "I set it out with impeccable logic and then leave it him to sort it out with his own conscience. I am pretty sure that in the next few minutes he will be consulting with those brothers of his, and will be in magical communication with Rome. Word will spread very rapidly from Rome. We have a good network that picks up information from there. I can pretty well guarantee that word will be carried both to Mainz and to Venice within the next two weeks if not sooner."

"Where did you learn to be so devious?" said Eric, shaking his head, "The right knightly behavior is to have threatened to knock his head off and then to have a good half an hour argument and shouting match about it."

"Would that have achieved anything?" asked Manfred, grinning. "I mean, it sounds like a lot of fun and very traditional, but Eneko is really not someone you can force to do anything. What we really wanted was for him to contact Mainz magically. He's not going to do that, no matter how we try, but this way we might get him to at least tell Rome."

"If it catches on, we could have the development of a new age of reason," said Erik dryly. "But I don't think the knights of the Holy Trinity are quite ready for this."

"It's the weight of all of that armor," said Manfred. "It weighs down on their heads-"

"And stops the brain from working," finished Erik. "It's an interesting theory, Manfred, but I know as many hidebound warriors on the plains of Vinland as I do among the knights of the Holy Trinity, and they don't wear armor."

"A good thing, too. Next thing I know you'll want me out of my armor. And I'm built to carry it. I must admit I really feel more comfortable in it. But I thought I'd beat you to your favorite argument about steel affecting our brains."

"I detect the fell hand of Francesca," said Erik with a wry smile. "I wonder how long the effects of her training will go on affecting you?"

"She is not someone that I am going to forget in a hurry," said Manfred, quite somberly.

"True," agreed Erik. Privately, he thought that his task was going to be considerably harder now. But there was also no doubt that Manfred was considerably wiser than he had been when he had first encountered Francesca, both about intrigue and in dealing with people. Much to his surprise, Erik regretted that she was going to be going to Alexandria and would not be continuing to journey with them. He had come to accept that she was an ally, and in her strange way, a kind of friend. But all he had said was that they had better tell the knights of Manfred's escort that they would be leaving Jerusalem quite soon.

Manfred nodded. "Eberhart is just waiting for some letters that will accredit the Mongol tarkhan as a diplomatic emissary of the Ilkhan. The Mongols are very stringent about the way that diplomatic missions are treated. I gather that the protection afforded to him would even extend to us if we were caught up in some fracas in their territories."

"Mighty generous of them," said Erik sardonically.

"It harks back a long way," said Manfred sententiously. "Apparently some minor emperor sent back the head of a tarkhan to Genghis Khan. Genghis declared war and hunted the emperor down, finally killing him on some remote island in the Black Sea. Believe it or not, I actually read about it. If they knew about the reading back in my father's court I would be a laughing stock. It's all the fault of you and Francesca. You have rotted my brain and kept me from the strong drink that would have preserved it. I need some wine to set this right."

"Any excuse," said Erik, "but I must admit that I am fairly dry, and the water in this town would give a camel the flux."

"Excellent," said Manfred. "Let us go and find Falkenberg. That way we can combine drinking with telling him that Eberhart is going to have us escort a party of Mongol diplomats."

"I am sure that will delight him," said Erik, grinning wryly.

"Well, I suspect the drinking part will."