Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) (66 page)

“No!”
The fist came down on the table with a loud boom. “No! This people will not be
sundered again, nor will we die in our thousands. I will not be remembered in
such a fashion! We shall retreat, even though every head be broken to that
end.”

“I
believe this to be true,” Jeff said with a deep sense of satisfaction.

“You
may depend on it,” Halric replied as he attempted to straighten the plank he
had cracked with his fist. “Let us attend to your needs. How many warriors do
you require?”

 
“No more than fifty. They will accompany me
east in the forest border, then south. I plan to attack and fire the engines
the Salchek are building to bring down Rugen’s walls. Before we discuss my
needs father, let us consider how we are to employ the warriors under your command.”

Jeff
let Halric run with his end of the plan to see what he would come up with.
Later, he had to admit he was impressed with Halric’s attention to detail. One
element, however, was lacking. The concept of holding a force in reserve was as
foreign to Alemanni thinking as that of a tactical retreat. It took awhile for
Halric to grasp the logic and common sense of it.

“Your
plan to hold the balance of our warriors in ‘reserve’ is understood.” Halric
let out an explosive laugh and waved a finger the size of a summer sausage at
Jeff. “How you do test me!”

Satisfied
that Halric had a solid grip on the tactics and was determined to succeed, Jeff
communicated the outline of their plan to Gaereth.

“I
like it. Halric will be a steady hand at the wheel. Combined with your raid to
the south it ought to be an effective one-two punch yet give the Salchek
nothing solid to counterattack.”

“How
are things shaping up at your end?”

“Looks
like quite a bit of the crops were salvaged, Jeff, and we’ve managed to house
all the people who came in from
outlying farms.
Carl’s trying to turn the infirmary into a real hospital and making some
progress. As you might expect, Rengeld has the city’s defense well in hand.
I’ll take a close look at the siege engines tomorrow morning.”

“How
did the city stand up to that parade of sakkas? I only saw ten, but I imagine
they were out in force south of the city.”

“They
were. Rengeld’s troops are trained down hard and shrugged it off. The civilians
were another matter. They sent a delegation to Imogo.”

“Let
me guess. A delegation of the wealthy, and fat cat merchants. Arrange a truce,
sue for peace, hand Rugen to the Salchek.”

“Basically,
but don’t be so hard on them, Jeff. You should remember that Belstan and Rogelf
could easily be included in the category of fat cat merchants if you didn’t
know them. I can only imagine the stories these folks grew up with. The Salchek
Army is one tough organization, and by all accounts was utterly ruthless last
time in town.”

“How
did Imogo deal with it?”

“Imogo
is a mercenary’s son and a king. He put out a hard line, but his cousins never
quit trying to stir a revolt so he hung them.”

Jeff
did an incredulous mental double take.
“His cousins? He hung them?”

“All
of them, plus three of the fattest cats. Their assets will go into the
treasury. This is an absolute monarchy, Jeffrey, not a democracy. It’s a time
of war and Imogo did what he had to. I find no fault with him.”

Silence
ensued. Jeff had experienced the authority of Imogo on several occasions. It
was both impressive and unsettling. Lese majesty, to trifle with kings, was
akin to cutting your own throat. He understood that from an academic viewpoint.
The reality was something else—the total absence of judicial process set him
back on mental heels.

“Let
it simmer, Grandson. We’ll talk tomorrow about the siege engines. Zimma sends
her love. You’re a lucky man, and don’t forget it.”

The
first meeting of the Tribal Congress started out tense. Halric was hard pressed
to maintain order as chieftains vied to have their warriors included in the
initial assault. Standing next to Halric, Jeff’s temper began to perk when two
chieftains leaped to confront each other. Nose to nose, they roared insults
back and forth until one of them brandished a battle-ax.

“That’s
it!”

Jeff
thrust himself between the chieftains, put a hand on each of their chests and
heaved. One crashed onto a bench, the other was caught on his way down.

“Enough!
You will all sit down and be silent!”

He
glared them back to their seats, but the atmosphere remained charged with anger
and suspicion. Jeff paced back and forth until his temper cooled and the hall
was silent.

“This
is not a small thing we speak of! Four tribes must quietly creep down near the
enemy in the dark and patiently wait making no sound until the sun renews
itself. With the sun’s first light they must attack, but only when commanded by
Halric to do so. Then they must withdraw from battle when bloodlust is at its
greatest and flee toward the forest as if defeated.

“Now,
let us examine our hearts! As leaders, you know the spirit of our people and
how difficult this will be for them. And yet, if we are to be victorious this
is what must happen. Are you concerned there are not enough Salchek to do
battle with? We are three thousand, they are nine thousand!”

Those
were respectable odds, the chieftains decided. It appeared there were enough of
the enemy to go around. Sitting back, they listened attentively. Jeff pounded
away at the need for absolute obedience to Halric’s commands, then turned the
floor over to him. Jeff’s tension gradually drained away as Halric moved into
the breech and took charge.

When
tactics were settled, deployment of various contingents agreed on and timing
understood, Halric described Jeff’s mission and the type of warriors he needed.
Before closing the meeting, he stood silently until he had the chieftains’
undivided attention.

“My
brothers and sisters, our destiny beckons. In this battle we will come to
understand whether we fight as Alemanni or as tribes. Our War Leader has
brought us opportunity to gain honor in battle, honor that was denied our
fathers. Yet we fight for much more—we fight for our homeland. Let us remember
the Telling and not die in our thousands. Your warriors must be made to
understand their place and duties. If you fail of this task, they will never
see their homes again.”

Afternoon
shadows had cooled the air when the chieftains filed out of the meeting hall.
The man and woman who had nearly come to blows walked with their heads close
together, voices hushed and urgent as they conversed. Other chieftains
dispersed shaking their heads as they considered all that had been asked of
them. They had gone into the hall thinking only about winning a place in
battle, but come out thinking about tactics. Gaereth contacted Jeff later that
afternoon.

“From
what can be seen, it appears that seven siege machines are under construction.
They must be fired before construction is complete. Right now they lie near the
periphery of Salchek forces in order to have easy access to the forest and
timber. It must be assumed that upon completion they will be wheeled near the
walls. Rengeld estimates this will occur in no more than four days.”

“He’s
familiar with siege engines? They’re high-tech around here.”

“Intimately
familiar. I am really impressed by that man, Jeff. From what I’ve seen so far,
Rengeld ranks right up there with the best military minds I’ve encountered.”

“Considering
the number of campaigns you’ve been through, and the men who have commanded
them, that’s one hell of a compliment.”

“And
fully intended. Rengeld sees an opportunity developing that he can’t pass up.
He plans to sally his cavalry corps through the south gate when the engines are
fully involved by fire. What do you think?”

“That’s
his entire cavalry force, five hundred troopers, and one hell of a bold plan. I
like it. Hit them hard with everything you have when they least expect it. I
think we can count on Rengeld to hold his effort until the Salchek are totally
focused on putting out the fires, or to scratch the mission if it falls apart.
Timing is going to be our biggest problem. Here’s what I have in mind…”

The
final disposition of forces was ironed out by the end of the next day. Jeff’s
unit was also taking shape as warriors reported in. His relief knew no bounds
when they all proved to be well seasoned.

“Next,
please.”

Jeff
had been screening applicants for some time. He looked up from scribbling notes
and studied a group of three flaxen-haired women. They resembled each other so
closely that the effect was stunning. When Jeff stood up to greet them his eyes
were not even with their chins. They seemed amused that he was so short. Jeff
had encountered that response so many times it no longer bothered him.

He
interviewed them and learned the women were first cousins from related tribes.
After they had been inducted into his unit, one of them waited until she could
speak privately. She was somewhat taller than the other two, reminding Jeff
that her name was Helwin.

“Magda
sends greetings. She could not attend this gathering, counting herself too
great with child.”

Time
staggered into slow motion. Magda pregnant? Could the child be his? That
possibility had never entered his mind when he was in Fastholm. How could it be
possible? Magda likely wasn’t human. As Jeff counted months his consternation
rapidly mounted.

If
the Alemanni gestation period was similar to that of terran females, Magda
might well have conceived during his stay in Fastholm. A range of emotions
gripped him, varying from exhilaration to guilt. She had shown no interest in
other men while he was there.

“Magda
fares well?”

“Her
strength and spirit were good when we departed. She was quite large although
still some months from her time, thus loathe to risk the journey. The decision
to remain behind was most difficult to endure, for Magda counts the child as
yours and wished to share her joy.” Helwin bowed. “You must know she is envied
by all the village women.”

Jeff’s
thoughts were elsewhere while organizing his troop. What would Zimma say? Even
if he were not the father, would that make any difference in her mind? She had
accepted Magda as family, but would she accept this? From what she had earlier
said, yes. From everything he knew and had experienced on Earth, no.

Guilt
was his constant companion throughout the day. He was not on Earth, the customs
and people were not of Earth. He knew that. In meeting Gaereth he had
experienced insights that profoundly underscored that fact. And yet he fought a
losing battle against twenty-seven years of indoctrination. Helwin’s
announcement had caught him totally by surprise and blown him back to Earth.

That
evening, seated in a chair, he stared into the fire that always burned in the
meeting hall. Gurthwin had to shake him in order to get his attention after the
hall emptied.

“You
must share what has so clearly come to possess your mind this day. What cloud
is it that has descended on your spirit, Jeffrey?”

“One
of personal responsibility and fealty. Will you hear what I learned this day?”

“If
you would speak your heart without presumption, Jeffrey.”

“I
shall without stint.”

Jeff
related what he had learned from Helwin. As required by Gurthwin, he let each
word be tested by his heart and not his head. Considering his academic
background, it was one of the hardest things he had ever done. Prompted by
Gurthwin, Jeff backtracked to his stay at Fastholm.

“And
so you could not leave. Were defeated.”

“I
have never before despised my very being.”

As
he talked and remembered how full of love and care Magda had been, Jeff calmed
down. So quiet and steady in her love. So healing. Jeff turned his head away
from Gurthwin as tears welled up and rolled down his cheeks.

“They
are but honest messengers from your spirit, Jeffrey. Look at me.” It was hard,
but he did.

“I
love Magda with all my heart, Gurthwin. What does this say about my
steadfastness in the very thing I earlier professed? To love and cherish Zimma?
And yet, searching my heart, I find that I do without reservation. She is
accepting of Magda and wishes for her to join us in family, yet I am once again
torn by old customs that insist I have betrayed Zimma. Customs that tell me I
cannot love two women without betraying both.”

“It
is abundantly clear you have not won release from your home of origin.”

“No
I have not, and fear this may never occur. I find that still I am consumed by
my former homeland and its ways. On Earth, in America, nothing is freely
offered—all things demand purchase. Most especially love and caring. There,
love between man and woman too often is measured out or withheld day to day in
reward or punishment. To me, it seemed no more than a collection of rules that
changed on a whim. Seldom could one determine why love was withheld, and thus
its offering could only be suspect.”