The Eaorl (The Casere Book 2) (29 page)

‘Alhart? Yes, the son of Lasren is now Eaorl again. Mundy is dead.’

The old man nodded. ‘That is good – it is said that Mundy was not his father’s son.’ He looked in the direction of Azali. ‘Do you seek to remove the Eaorl of Azali as well?’

‘I seek to remove all the Rakians.’

He nodded slowly. ‘It would seem that you have both the means and the desire. A rare combination. Still, it would be sad if Seoirse were to die – he has treated us well – despite what you see around you here. Things could have been worse – he protected as much as he could but the wiga were never under his authority.’

Conn was getting increasingly suspicious of old people. ‘Any other advice?’

The old man chuckled. ‘The best advice I had was from my grandfather. He said that not everything is always as it seems’.

When Derryth and Uileog joined him they headed out to join the fyrd as it marched. Derryth looked behind him at the old guy as they passed, shaking his head in confusion.

Conn noticed the action. “A problem?’

‘No… it’s just …I don’t really know. What did he say?’

‘Never judge a book by its cover… or something similar.’

Given that it was midsummer, and harvesting was happening, Conn had his fyrd do its best not to destroy fields as this harvest was the difference between life and death for many. They reached Azali by sunset two days later, and set up camp around on the outskirts. After arriving in the village, they learnt that there were about twenty Ratakians behind the palisades with the Eaorl; of which only about five were wiga, and the wiga had collected hostages from the village – young women and children. Conn assured the villagers that he wouldn’t storm the walls and get anyone killed unnecessarily. Conn pointed to the fields.

‘Shouldn’t you have started harvesting already?’

The friman shrugged. ‘We do not have the manpower – many that were here were Rakians and most have fled.’

‘Would you like my men to help?’

It was too good an offer to refuse and seven hundred men can make short work of a fair acreage in a couple of days.

Meanwhile, he sent a request to those holed up behind the palisades that they should surrender. They refused, so Conn decided that some evening entertainment was appropriate – he had the MacLeod pipe band play – he had three members in his fyrd – intermittently throughout the night – just let they get to sleep and then wake them up. All through the day as well.

Derryth had never heard of the concept of cruel and unusual torture but he would have put bagpipe music on the list if he could.

On the second night, he started complaining. ‘If this doesn’t work today – I’m joining Wilgar’s fyrd.’ He stopped to consider. ‘He doesn’t have bagpipes does he?’

Conn said no.

‘Good, I changing fyrds.’

‘He had drummers.’

‘Drummers? Gyden, I hate drummers as well. War should be silent – all this noise is driving me crazy.’

They had a small catapult with them; it fitted to the back of pack mules and then could be assembled for whatever purposed he wanted. They had perfected a rotten egg stink bomb and they started hurling those over the walls.

Derryth shook his head. ‘You have a very nasty streak.’

‘I should be killing innocent people instead?’

‘Tough call… bagpipe music and stink bombs. I’m leaning towards death – certainly if I’m on the inside.’

To Derryth’s great relief, a rider came out from the village at sunrise on the third day with a white flag to request a parley. Conn agreed; told him to send the Eaorl anytime he wanted; he would be happy to chat, and his safety would be guaranteed.

A while later, a Ratakian with a girl came riding out.

Conn laughed. ‘He must think that we wouldn’t kill him in front of his child.’

Conn had the visitors escorted into his tent and provided stools for the Eaorl and his daughter. Behind Conn stood Derryth and Uileog. When the Eaorl saw Derryth, he paused in shock, but regained his composure. Behind them was a carefully staged arrangement of a hundred wiga in tabards and shields. To one side stood fifty Twacuman wiga. It would have been an intimidating sight.

‘Your name?’ Conn asked as he sat down.

‘Seoirse, Eaorl of A…’

‘Stop, I don’t recognize that title, so tell me who you really are… before this charade.’

He considered his position for a moment, before answering. ‘Seoirse il Soloes, Folctoga, – my father was the Eaorl, and my brother is the current Eaorl. This is my daughter Séarlait.’

‘I am Conn il Taransay, Eaorl of Hama in Lyciak. I’m also a friend to the Aebeling of Moetia, Bran, who was murdered by Rakians under the guidance of Ancuman. I’m very annoyed. Last week we liberated Tegeste, and by the end of this year I will have liberated all of Silekia from Ratakian control. This is Uileog, the son of the Eaorl who sat in this village before he was removed by Rakians, and who is going to be Eaorl again tomorrow. You have two options; one that allows you to live or the other that requires you to die. I’m REALLY annoyed that you are hiding behind innocent women and children. What I …’ Conn paused. ‘You said Soloes?’

Seoirse nodded and waited for Conn to continue.

He stopped, contemplated for a moment, and then poured himself a glass of wine, before poured a second that he passed it to the Eaorl. ‘Try this, tell me what you think. I’m a little disappointed that it hasn’t travelled well on the back of a mule. Next time you are in Atrak, you are welcome to drop in and try a better vintage – if of course you are still alive. If you are dead, it is an opportunity missed. Atrak is a town that must be seen to be believed.’

He poured another glass and gave it to the daughter.

‘Séarlait, isn’t?

She nodded. She took a sip.

‘How old are you, Séarlait?’

She answered strongly, defiantly. ‘Seventeen.’ She continued to sip the wine – it was very sweet and delicious.

‘And you are not bedda?’

She was surprised at the question, but chose to answer. ‘Not yet, soon I am to return to Rakiak, to my uncle’s house. I have had offers…’

Seoirse was struggling to follow the discussion. ‘Eaorl, you were giving me two alternatives. One that I could get to live and one when I get to die? I’m unclear which one I should be choosing?’

‘Yes I was, wasn’t I? But you haven’t said what you think of the wine.’

Seoirse was getting quite confused. ‘My apologies Eaorl. It is definitely the best I have ever drunk…’

‘You need to get out more but it is good. Where was I – yes, life and death questions? Well, I’ve scrapped that – I’ve got a better idea. I’ve just remembered a discussion I had recently. Soloes is part of Silekia, and you are mostly Silekians, correct?’

Seoirse nodded. ‘We were given away to avoid a war.’

Conn pointed to Derryth. ‘Do you know who he is?’

‘No, I don’t know him personally but he is Twacuman – our brothers is arms for hundreds of years. I will be honoured if I may shake his hand later. Just don’t…’

Conn ended the statement for him, ‘don’t know how it is possible for him to be here?’

‘Yes… I though it rude to ask given…’

Conn released his jacket button and removed the medallion. ‘Do you recognize this?

Seoirse looked and then shook his head slowly, taking in a deep breath. His daughter looked at him curiously.

‘It is the medallion of the Feorhhyrde. He who is given that medallion is called friend by the Twacuman – and they always help their friends’.

Derryth nodded. ‘I’m going to draw a line at herding animals in the future though.’

Seoirse didn’t understand the joke, and Séarlait was just confused. He continued explaining to his daughter. ‘The ancient Casere had two symbols of power – that medallion and a Torc. The Torc has been lost for centuries….’ He stopped talking as Conn held up his wrist and showed the gold band around his wrist.

‘It isn’t…?’

‘It is… so now that we have established that we are all family here, I have an alternative that doesn’t require you dying – or Séarlait being sold as Theow.’

Séarlait looked startled as Seoirse held out his mug and Conn filled it with wine.

‘It sounds workable…’

‘Father! The Eaorl hasn’t even suggested anything and you have given up…’

He looked at her. ‘The Feorhhyrde you mean – he can ask the Twacuman to murder us in our beds and we can have a dozen wiga in and outside the room and we won’t be able to stop them.’

Derryth smiled, ‘We are very talented….’

Seoirse had another glass of wine. ‘So what am I agreeing to?’

His daughter turned away in displeasure.

‘If Séarlait agrees to be bedda to Uileog – and he agrees – you and your family can stay. We will give you the position of Thane. I am told that you have treated the tilia well; as for the other Rakians, that will be Uileog’s decision as to how he can use them.’

He looked to Uileog, who shrugged. She was particularly beautiful.

Seoirse took a mouthful of wine and nodded. ‘Seems very reasonable to me…’

‘Father! You can’t just give me away to some … stranger...’ She did a quick look up and down his frame. Uileog was a good looking young man.

‘Why not? We get to live; you get to be bedda to an Eaorl who is a friend – and not an enemy – of the Feorhhyrde; win, win in my book.’ She looked away. He raised his voice, ‘Séarlait! Do you know why you are here and not in Rakiak already?’ She shook her head. ‘So I can keep the defiling hands of the Healdend and his “friends” off you. You are beautiful. They will want you for themselves, and if you want to know what that entails, you should ask your mother about her experiences with the Healdend…’

He turned back to Conn.

‘Eaorl, I’ll go back and go through the pretence of making a decision. I’ll also have to subdue a few wiga – been wanting to gut one of them for some time – a cousin of Fallon who likes to claim that he will take Séarlait as bedda once Fallon raises him to Thane. Over my dead body. Anyway, I’ll leave my daughter here to get to know her future bedda.’ He stood up and shook the hand of both Uileog and Derryth, before returning to Conn. ‘Do you perchance want the rest of that skin of wine?’

Conn handed it to him. ‘No, it’s all yours.’

‘Thank you; I’ll be back in a half an hour.’ He looked at his daughter who was still sulking. ‘No, make that an hour.’

‘Father!’

The Eaorl rode back to the village while Séarlait stomped. Conn called her over to the tent, and told her to sit down. She did so under sufferance; she looked down and her arms were folded over her chest.

‘Have you ever heard of silk?

She looked up. ‘Silk? I have – isn’t that some kind of a very expensive cloth?’

‘It is. Now, I’m a bit limited in what I can offer today but I do have something you might be interested in.’ From the extra supplies they carried, Conn had a Happi coat, made of silk, brought to him. It was worn by both men and women under the gambesons – as added protection against arrows.

He handed the garment to her and she held it up to look in wonder and then she caressed the super fine and deeply colored material for some time.

‘It truly is magnificent. Thank you.’

Silk has no enemies – only fond friends.

‘As a gift from me to you for becoming bedda, I will arrange for a full trunk of the best clothing – including silk – in Lykiak to be delivered to you as soon as reasonably possible.’

Derryth was sitting beside Conn. He looked at him in disbelief. ‘Trying to bribe a young girl with clothing – how weak do you think she is? She will never agree…’

Séarlait interrupted him. ‘The latest fashion from Lykiak? My cousin said that there is some in Rakiak and that it is ridiculously expensive… how big will the trunk be?’

By the time the Eaorl had returned, they had decided on the size of the trunk and even done some sizing so it would fit properly. Seoirse was expecting a fight but did not get one. Conn asked him about the wiga.

‘He died far too quickly… I’ll have to pay wergild now for the girls in the village he had defiled. Once he was dead, the others lost heart.’

Most of the fyrd was already on the move when he returned, and Conn performed the bedda ceremony, and left Uileog in charge – he had a squad of a fifty wiga to enforce his will, should it come to that.

Seoirse had a last word before he left. ‘Who is in Tegeste now? Is Mundy dead? I’m sure he killed his father and brother.’

‘Yes; young Eirnin is back in charge.’

The ex Eaorl was surprised; ‘So he lived? Excellent. It is good to see the house of Alhart surviving. We are light on the ground.’

Conn felt like swearing. ‘So you are also of the house of Alhart as well?’

Seoirse nodded. ‘After Fiontan resigned as Eaorl; he was reduced to Thane. A hundred years later his descendants had inherited both Tegeste and Soloes, both houses having run out of sons.’

‘And there still is a Thane?’

‘Ceolred? Yes, he is in Soloes on the coast – he lives in a small fishing village. He maintains his ancestor’s anger.’