Lord of Janissaries (94 page)

Chai pulled a piece of sausage from inside his robe and munched it cautiously. It might have to last him for several days until the starmen led their Guards away.

Let it be soon.
Chai had long practice in hiding, but being able to endure it was not the same as enjoying it. For many reasons it would be best if the Guards departed swiftly. The Lord Mason had found that four of the children’s rooms had been empty far longer than the others, but he hadn’t understood. Now it was too late. The four who went south would surely complete their mission. . . .

Still, one must be sent to warn the Lady Tylara that this house had been found. When the messenger and the four who went south returned, all the Children of the Wolf could move to the other house, the house on the Littlescarp that no one would ever find. Then let Mason rage.

Oaths? What were oaths to those destined for Vothan’s Hall, chosen by Vothan the Chooser to do His will in this world?

9

Gengrich looked up at the grey sky. The villagers standing in front of him would probably think he was praying to Yatar for the wisdom to give fair judgement. Actually he was trying to guess if it was going to rain before he reached home.

The sky said nothing about either rain or judgement. He could wait on the rain, but the judgement had to be given now. The villagers had given up half a day’s work to bear witness before their lord; they would resent no judgement almost as much as a bad judgement.

Here goes nothing.

“I have heard all the witnesses from the villages of Fallen Eagle and Oak Creek. I have prayed to Yatar for guidance. Now I, Lord Gengrich do Zyphron, do give this as my judgement in the matter of the strayed cow of Oak Creek.

“I judge that the cow was indeed found unlawfully in the pastures of Fallen Eagle. I also judge that the cow strayed because of negligence by the herdboy, Bemis son of Nestor.”

The faces of the Oak Creek people looked as grim as the sky. “I also find that the herdboy was trying to herd the cow back home when the men of Fallen Eagle came upon him. Therefore they had no cause to beat him so that he has been unfit for work these past ten days. They also had no cause to hurry the cow along so that she miscarried of a heifer calf.”

“That old screw would’ve miscarried if we’n tapped her w’ a feather!” shouted someone from Fallen Eagle. “Everybody knows that!”

“That cow was as healthy as yer big wind, Kuris!” came an equally loud reply from the Oak Creek side.

Now voices were raised on both sides, and a few fists. It would be knives and flails next. Gengrich signaled to Boyd, who shouted: “Silence for the Lord’s judgement!” and signaled to the guards. The thump of pike-butts striking the ground brought results.

“I therefore find that the offense of Fallen Eagle is the greater, and they owe a fine of four silvers plus two silvers toward the cost of healing the herdboy. I have also learned that this is the cow’s third miscarriage. I will therefore buy her from the village of Oak Creek for eight silvers, that she may be slaughtered and provide a feast for both villages. If at that feast they will also swear peace with each other, I shall send bread and wine from my cellars.”

Gengrich studied the crowd and was relieved to see long faces turn to smiles. A few villagers from Fallen Eagle still looked sullen, and a few of the Oak Creekers made rude gestures, but it looked as if the feud had been headed off.

“I thank you for your loyalty in bringing this matter before me. Yatar grant you warm beds this winter and good crops and sleek beasts next year.”

Fat bloody chance
, he added to himself. Aloud, he called for his horse.

They were riding past the stumps of the oak trees that had given Oak Creek its name when Boyd pulled close to him. “Arnie, how’d you know about the cow’s miscarrying? She looked like it to me, but you’re a city boy. No offense meant.”

“I’m a city boy who knows how to use spies. One of Vinicianus’ people went in disguised as a traveling shoemaker. He kept his ears open and his mouth shut until he got home.”

“Oho.”

The bridge over the creek had fallen during the last bunch of earthquakes, but it hadn’t rained for a couple of days. They forded with the water no higher than the bellies of the horses, and were checking their gear on the far side when four men in Gengrich’s colors rode up leading one of his warhorses.

“Lord Gengrich! A message from the Lord Vinicianus. He begs you to return at once to the castle. He has sent a fresh mount.”

The horse was Buster, Gengrich’s favorite. If Vinicianus had risked sending
him
out, it must be something worse than a flooded privy. Still, he was supposed to hear cases in three more villages. . . .

“What is it?”

The messenger lowered his voice. “He says it is an important message from the north.”

“Very well. Alex, take fifteen men and ride on to the other three villages. Hear the witnesses—”

“Me? I’m no feudal judge!”

“You’re the best they’ll get today, buddy. Or do you want to spend half the winter patrolling their fields for barnburners and cattle thieves?”

“You put it that way, no. Okay, hear the witnesses, and then—?”

“Tell each of them to send a man to Castle Zyphron. I’ll give my judgement tomorrow.”

Gengrich waited until Boyd had picked his men.
Alex has his problems. But he takes orders and you don’t have to watch him every minute. It’s worth a few bribes to husbands and fathers.

* * *

Bloody tears ran from the staring eyes of the man in the bed. The fingers of his bandaged hands all ended at the first joint. His cheeks and nose were blackened ruins, stinking with infection and decay.

His moans rose to a gasping scream as Guilford unwrapped the bandages from one foot. Gengrich turned away, his stomach twitching. The foot was black halfway to the heel. The toes dangled in shreds of flesh, and the smell was beyond anything Arnie Gengrich could have imagined.

He forced himself not to be sick as Guilford snipped away the dead flesh, amputated the ruined toes, doused everything with antiseptics and ointments, and put on fresh bandages. When Guilford started on the other foot, Gengrich bolted for the door. As he went out he heard the screams turn into words.

“Evil—bandits—thought she sent them—didn’t know—killed—killed . . .”

Gengrich stopped. “Eh?”

Guilford shook his head. “No point in you staying, Arnie. That’s more sense than he’s made in the last couple hours. Go on, before I have to tend you too!”

Gengrich nodded and stumbled through the door.

He stood on the castle wall and drew in deep lungfuls of damp chilly air. He watched the carpenters at work on the south gate. The castle had come off pretty well in the last quakes. Not like Rustengo. The big port city was supposed to be one-third in ruins now, with a lot of the rest ready to fall down if you sneezed hard.

He wondered if that would take some of the wind out of Schultzy’s sails. Last time Mort had come for a visit he’d acted like a royal ambassador. Maybe he did have clout in Rustengo; he’d always been good at looking out for himself. Lucky too, and Gengrich had learned that luck counts for a lot.

Time, Mort. For you and me. We got anything the captain wants, time to produce it. We ain’t either one of us going to hold on down here much longer.

“Arnie?”

Guilford was standing behind him. “Yeah, Frank?”

“I gave him a knockout dose of babble juice. If he’s lucky, he won’t wake up.”

“That bad?”

“That bad. If I was a real M.D. with the whole nine yards I still couldn’t save his hands or feet. As it is, the gangrene’s spreading, he’s got hemorraghic fever, and he’s developing pneumonia. I’m surprised he got far enough for our patrols to pick him up.”

“He’s from up north?”

“Far as I can tell. From what he said before he went out of his head, he was some kind of clerk at Castle Dravan. Something made him think he and a couple of his friends were in danger. They cooked up a story about a dying mother and rode off in the middle of a snowstorm. They figured nobody would try to track them. If they didn’t come back at all, everybody would think the storm got them.

“It did get one of them, and that’s where—Karl, I think his name is—started the frostbite. Bandits killed another one south of Vis. Karl was going on sheer guts when he ran into one of our patrols.”

Guilford rummaged in his bag and pulled out an oiled-leather packet sealed with wax. “He had this sewn into the lining of his coat. I thought you ought to see it first.”

Gengrich drew a knife and slit the leather pouch open. A folded piece of parchment dropped out. He caught it and started reading.

“Jesus H. Christ!”

“Last time I called him, I got put on hold—” Guilford stopped at the look on Gengrich’s face. “Trouble?”

“Yeah, but—Frank, you really didn’t read this?”

“You had to cut it open, didn’t you? Is it hot?”

“Too hot to talk about here. It’s trouble, but maybe not for us. I need to talk with friend Marcus.”

* * *

The long-expected rain was turning to wet snow. Gengrich hoped Alex and his men would make it home safely. Meanwhile he was fighting the chill with a roaring fire and a jug of Guilford’s homebrew.

Marcus Julius Vinicianus sat across the table from him. He turned the parchment over and over in his fingers. He hadn’t taken a drink since he began to read. Finally he shook his head. “I find it hard to believe that Lady Tylara would employ assassins to kill the man who saved her from Sarakos.”

“Not just Caradoc. They suspect she offed Dughuilas. She set up somebody else, too.”

“And I am probably looking at him?”

“Got any better candidates?”

“No. You hold your people together as an organized force. Without you to control them your Earthmen would fight. Your local recruits would be divided and many would desert. By spring the Lord Rick could set any terms he liked for taking your surviving men back under his rule.”

“Just what I was thinking.” Arnold Gengrich drained his cup and refilled. “Which means I have to stay alive. That’s a real interesting proposition, seeing as how I also have to let these thugs try to assassinate me.”

Vinicianus looked down into his cup. “Does the wine speak, or did I hear you say you must allow an attempt on your life?”

“You heard me right.”

“Then—may I say that I honor your courage, but your judgement . . . ?”

“Is okay. Look, Marcus. This is something that can blow the captain’s alliance up north to little bits. If he stands by his wife, he’s at blood feud with Caradoc’s clan. If he dumps her, he’s not Count of Chelm anymore. No land of his own. That’ll make it hard for Ganton to keep him on as Captain General. And old Drumold will take his archers home. What’s he got left?”

“Anarchy. And the Time drawing closer. The priests of Yatar will not be pleased either.”

“
Nobody’s
gonna be happy if this gets out. The worst of it is we don’t
know
anything. All we have is this paper, and it’s not signed by anybody. No proof she did it.”

“But you believe—”

“I don’t believe in coincidences. Not big ones. If Caradoc hadn’t went west, things would have come apart.”

“I reached the same conclusion. Caradoc’s death was very convenient. Too convenient. What has this to do with letting them attempt your life?”

“Hard evidence. We let ’em try and catch one in the act. Give the kid to the captain for a present.”

The Roman looked thoughtful. “That would work. But you must catch your rabbit before you make a stew. You leave yourself as bait for assassins whose numbers and skills may be greater than we know.”

“Give me a better idea and I’ll take it.”

“Stay guarded.”

“How? I have to ride circuit to give judgement. And I can’t live with guards under the bed. Marcus, I am damned if I’ll sit on my ass in this room all winter!”

“I sympathize. But I would not trade places with you. Given the Lady Tylara’s reputation I would suppose she would not employ any but the most competent assassins.

“So. You seek evidence of the plot in order to trade with the Lord Rick. What else do you offer him?”

Gengrich shook his head to try to clear out the wine fumes. “I don’t get you.”