Authors: Michael O'Neill
Daray laughed, as he looked at with Elva and Derryth who rode with them. ‘You, two Twacuman and I are going into Gatina to ask questions! This should be fun. We are definitely crazy.’
The trip from over the mountains and into Gatina took over a week – and took a lot less time than it could have, as Derryth had been scouting routes through the mountain for some months, and this route was faster than any other. It did however bring them into Eaorldom of Gela; Gela was one of the smaller, less important domain is Gatina as it was high in the mountains and fairly underpopulated and impoverished. An upside was that being so isolated, the chances of being discovered was also remote, and for the last few months, Twacuman had been monitoring all activity in Gela. Conn expected that in a nation preparing for war, there would have plenty of abnormal activity, right into the extremities of the domain.
In fact, staying out of sight proved easier than expected in Gela, as settlements were few and far between and fields being ploughed were around the cotlif itself. The hills around the settlements provided adequate hiding places and Conn’s group joined the three Twacuman who had been camped here for a week.
They sat on a hill overlooking the main settlement – the Eaorl’s name was Brictnoth, and this was his home. It was far smaller than anything Conn had seen so far.
The Twacuman had determined that at least two delegations of wiga had arrived at the cotlif. They didn’t seem friendly visits as buildings were searched and horses and other livestock confiscated and driven away. Since then, the Eaorl and his wiga seemed intent on training; with daily exercises.
‘So do you think that it is this autumn or next?’ Conn asked the wiga who had been observing for him.
They shook their heads; they didn’t know except to say that the Gatinans were too incompetent to ever leave.
‘Why don’t I go and ask?’ Daray suggested helpfully.
Conn looked at him. ‘Ask – you can’t go down there – you are not Gatinan.’
‘True – but I look a bit like a Silekian, and half of Rakia has Silekian blood.’
‘But who are you supposed to be? I don’t think that they get many tourists around here.’
‘I don’t even know what a “tourist” is, but I could be a messenger – demanding an update on when the Eaorl and his wiga will be ready to march or something – you can write the letter for me. I’ll go in at dusk and leave at daybreak.’
Conn considered it for a moment. He couldn’t go himself and it would be helpful. ‘Very well – you can go. Remember one thing though – if you get it wrong and I have to rescue you, the entire village will disappear.’
They travelled further west until the road to the cotlif was near enough for Daray to slip onto the road. He changed horses with the Twacuman because his Hama bred stallion was much too expensive for a common messenger; messed his clothes up a bit and headed for the cotlif.
Derryth looked at Conn as he disappeared into the distance. ‘So how are we going to make the village disappear?’ he asked ruefully.
‘I’m thinking an epidemic of some kind – and Annisa is not going to be happy that she has to have a Gatinan Eaorl as a prisoner for a few years. I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that.’
They headed back into the tree line and took the long way back to their hidey hole in the forest. As it got darker, Conn stood looking at the settlement in the distance – nothing seemed abnormal so far; nothing to indicate that things had gone wrong – and there was nothing Conn could do until light anyway.
Elva appeared at his elbow. ‘I think you worry too much. He is a bright boy and you have trained him well.’
‘Still – I hate it when things are out of my control.’
‘So why don’t we go for a walk – we can find somewhere nice to fornicate...’
‘What – now?’
‘So that is a no?’
‘Don’t be silly – of course it’s not a no. I was just thinking we hadn’t … well … eaten … yet…’
‘We can eat later.’
‘I guess…’
As first light, Conn was ready and waiting to march down into the cotlif, sword swinging. He scanned the settlement with his telescope but houses and trees – and distance – prevented any useful knowledge being gained. He just had to wait and it wasn’t until mid-morning that they saw movement; they were relieved to find that it was Daray and his pack horse leaving and heading back down the road he came. It took another two hours for him to make it back to Conn’s position.
Conn admonished him. ‘You took your time!’
Daray laughed, took a large mug of coffee and made his report.
Conn’s message to Brictnoth, on behalf of the Healdend, was consolatory; he had heard of the heavy handed manners of his delegates and sought to make amends; his messenger was authorized to reimburse in gold the value of anything taken. Conn had decided that any suspicion on the arrival of Daray would be blindsided by him willing to hand over gold. Daray explained that after a long and tedious negotiation – which Daray was simply incompetent at – he handed over far too much gold. Brictnoth was so happy, however, that he brought out the mead and the ale and celebrated with the messenger late into the night.
‘So he got a little talkative?’
‘You might say.’ Brictnoth was not a fan of the pending war and had resisted providing resources he didn’t have. He told Daray that he had to be in Mazra by summer – and he hated Mazra in summer – it was just too hot. And in lamellar it was almost unbearable. He had no idea how he was going to survive around five thousand others – and where was he going to get the resources to last a year on the campaign – each Eaorl had to take his own food and supplies; the whole thing was a mess – and it was all the Rakian’s fault.
‘Rakian?’
‘I gather that the Healdend has a Rakian advisor – but I didn’t hear his name as his sons made him stop talking about it.’
Conn was happy with the information. ‘Well done. But why did you take so long to leave.’
He almost blushed. ‘I didn’t get a lot of sleep … I slept in and then they insisted I eat with them. The Eaorl had forgotten some cows that the Healdend had stolen from him that he wanted me to pay for.’
‘Why didn’t you get any sleep?’ Conn asked suspiciously.
Daray looked down. ‘The Eaorl has this younger bedda – she woke me after I’d been to bed for an hour or so. After she left, I over slept.’
‘Did she tell you anything useful?’
He nodded. ‘She did – the Rakian advisor died just over a month ago – apparently he was in a ship that was sunk by the Trokians.’
‘How did she know that and the Eaorl not?’
He smiled broadly. ‘I gather I’m not the first person she has visited in the middle of the night.’
They returned to Halani and after a few more days in the village, Conn parted ways with Caronwyn, Brina and Caewyn, and headed home. He had asked if he could leave Daray in Halani for the winter – Caronwyn was happy and even Brina agreed that he should spend the winter training in the forest. They didn’t tell Daray that he was a descendant of the Twacuman – he didn’t need to know – yet.
He had a new travelling companion; Oisin brought her to him. It was a beautiful little filly – a pinto, and the first foal of the mare that Oisin had ridden into Halani. Unusually she had twins – this filly and a little colt. The colt was staying behind.
Oisin didn’t lead her; she followed along behind. She didn’t have a lead or bridle because she didn’t need one.
‘I have a gift for you.’ Oisin said as she stopped.
‘For me? She is a bit small.’ Conn held out his hand and the filly walked up and sniffed his hand. She then walked forward and then head butted him in the chest, gently enough for him to stumble a yard backwards.
Oisin smiled. ‘Good, she likes you.’
Regaining his foot, Conn rubbed her neck and shoulders. ‘I’d hate to see what happen if she didn’t. So she is an Elfina?’
‘She is.’ Oisin paused to concentrate for a while. ‘You are right – she is not for you to ride. But you will know who she will belong to.’ Oisin hugged the filly and the filly responded with a neigh. ‘Take care of her.’
‘With my life.’
CHAPTER 16
Conn travelled back to Atrak for the winter; with Sileas busy supervising the construction of a huge stone keep and walls to protect the harbor, he thought he should at least do something – even just babysit the four girls. The keep was overkill but there was a huge supply of stone in the vicinity and an abundance of labor, and it seemed a shame not to utilize both resources for something meaningful. He also had the money – given that the workers paid him rent and bought their goods from shops he indirectly owned or supplied, the leakage was minimal. The rocks were being used to extend the harbor; it was going to be the best in Meshech; much to the Eaorl of Sabatah’s annoyance.
It was here that he received confirmation from Abrekan that a Gatinan vessel had indeed been sunk by one of his schooners; his vessel had gone to the rescue of a smaller Trokian ship that was under attack by several Gatinan warships and in the resulting battle, one of the Gatinan vessels had gone down with a significant loss of life. Conn could only presume that the Rakian advisor was on that vessel. They seemed to be playing a very dangerous game.
By late spring Conn was back in Lykiak, as were all the Eaorls. This summer was going to be the last opportunity for the Witan to choose a candidate for the position of Aebeling – and given that there was no way that they could agree, they spent an unnecessary amount of time discussing it. Fifty years ago, when Laoire il Lykia, the last Aebeling, died in a boating accident travelling to Sabatah, he died without a male heir. He had lots of relatives; but no male line relatives – indeed every Eaorl was his relative. The Eaorl of Asaak had a son now – but the baby was in no position to be made bedda to the daughter of the Healdend of Moetiak.
The Witan’s time was up to make a decision – though their inability to make a decision was in itself a decision. Conn would have delighted in pointing out the irony to the Eaorls, as the Healdend got to choose the next Aebeling of Lykiak, rather than them.
Conn’s company had been requested at the last meeting of the Witan. Daray, now twenty two years old, and Allowena, now seventeen, had both arrived back in Lykiak. Daray had just returned from his winter in Halani and he was taller, stronger and even leaner than before. Daray had worked him hard – as probably had some of the maidens in Halani. Daray had collected Allowena from Haran and brought her to Lykiak with him.
Daray and Conn headed for the Keep as requested.
‘Surely they have not been able to make a decision?’ Conn asked Daray, who had been spending time with his brother and uncle.
‘Not as far as I know. It is a harder decision now than before due to the increased wealth that has been generated for the Aebeling by your activities – if they can’t have it themselves, they are sure not going to elevate someone else to the position. That would not make any of them happy.’
‘Somehow I doubt they are going to be any happier when a Moetian turns up to claim the prize – and I gather there are a lot of petty nobles in the court of Moetiak waiting for a turn to impress the daughter – and be chosen by her to be the new Aebeling.’ Conn shrugged, speaking softly to himself. ‘Certainly doesn’t make me happy.’
Daray smiled broadly in his offhanded way, ‘If only we could be there to see what happens…!’ but stopped smiling when Conn nodded and replied that he was thinking that very thing.
As they entered the room the Eaorls were in heated debate – argument mostly, as to which of their sons would be best suited. More than once, they had discussed each possible candidate and each and every one had been vetoed by at least one of the Eaorl – too closely related, too distantly related, too smart, too thick. One’s excuse was that one was too short. They were all too short in Conn’s eyes. But of course there could be no resolution. There would be no way that they could make one of them greater than the others.
Another example of what happens when an irresistible force collides with an immovable object – chaos.
Conn waited until he had an opportunity to speak. ‘So I guess someone needs to tell them then.’
They looked at him sharply. Tonbert broke the silence. ‘Tell them? Tell who?’
‘The Moetian Healdend; tell them that Lykia awaits with pleasure the arrival in the spring of the new Aebeling and his bedda, the Healdend’s daughter,’ and before anyone could interject, he continued, ‘and of course it would be very rude for Lykia to send such a message by courier. It would behove Lykia to send a small fyrd to Moetiak to await the decision, and to bring them back safely to Lykiak. At least, that’s the way we would do it in Taransay.’
Mentioning Taransay always brought the worst out in the Eaorls. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, they wouldn’t accept that Taransay was superior in anything in Meshech – let alone Lykia.
The Eaorls looked around in discomfort at each other, except for Octa. He was becoming very used to Conn and his manoeuvring of the Eaorls for his own benefit; and he fought to control an urge to burst out laughing.
Tonbert continued; ‘And who should we send to deliver the message?’
Conn took his chance. ‘I think that Daray is the best suited. He has worked with the fyrd for three years. They respect him; and he is family to most of you. I think he would represent Lykia well.’ Daray of course looked at him in shock so Conn kicked him in the shin – just hard enough to get the point across – don’t react.
They of course fell into his trap and as Tonbert spoke, Octa choked on the ale he had started to drink. They looked at him with concern, but he waved them away.
‘Surely he is too young; I love the boy, but I think that he lacks the experience to represent the Witan of Lykia.’
Conn gave Octa an injured look as the Eaorl spluttered his beer into his beard. ‘Well, with the Witan’s permission, I guess I could go with him – unless of course any of you want to go?’
The Eaorls looked around at each other, each knowing that none of them wanted to make the arduous trip. They were all older, fatter, and more pampered than five years ago. Prosperity had reached all domains in Lykiak – a hard road journey was not something they liked doing. As they nodded amongst themselves, they conceded that it was probably the right thing to do.