The Eaorl (The Casere Book 2) (22 page)

It was perhaps the most devious thing Conn had ever done. He almost felt like reprimanding himself.

With Fainche on board and with her luggage below, Conn watched as Njil skilfully manoeuvred the large vessel out into the open sea. They were to head NNE for several hours before turning south. Conn joined the captain on the bridge.

Together they looked at the skies – the weather was suddenly not looking good.’

‘I don’t understand – there were no clouds in the south before. We had a clear day…’

The intended course was Kadash on the southerly bearing

‘If that is as bad as it looks, we should have stayed an extra day. It is a very strange storm.’

Conn shook his head, remembering. ‘Njil, I hate old people.’

‘So do I, but what has that got to do with the storm?’

Conn told him of his conversation with the old lady in the village.

‘So where do we head?’

‘Keep on this bearing and set course for Moetia. I don’t know why but let’s do it anyway. Old people are driving me crazy…’

Njil gave the orders and the ship hoisted more cloth and almost immediately picked up speed for its new destination.

Some hours later, as Conn stood at the bow, Fainche came to see him.

‘I understand that we haven’t changed direction. So if we are not going to Kadash, where are we going?’

‘Moetiak I think.’

‘You think? I thought you were in charge.’

‘Not always – it seems that Badb wants me to do something for her.’

‘Badb – the Moetian Gyden?’ She thought for a while before asking. ‘I did not know that you followed the instructions of Gyden?’

‘I don’t think I do – but what do I know. Do you follow the instructions of Gyden?’

She ignored him. ‘Halla said that the Gyden Lilith herself restored her bands – because you asked her too. I don’t believe it of course – I think that you did something to fool them all.’

Conn laughed. ‘Believe what you want. I don’t believe much of what happens either. When things are both implausible and improbable, it is time to look for a new explanation; as an old friend of mine once told me.’

She stood for a while before asking – a question Conn did not expect. ‘And it is true about the Cirice at Gatina? That the heart-stone has been restored?’

‘Indeed. And your cousin Synne is the head Folgere.’

‘Synne! I thought she was dead… she should have died years ago…’

‘She even gave me the necklace that you are wearing.’

‘This?’ She took it off immediately, and made as if to throw it over the side of the ship. It didn’t leave her hand, though it shook as if she was suddenly shivering. She finally placed it back around her neck. She looked back at him. ‘You are ruining everything. I don’t understand why. You are not Twacuman or Priecuman – you are nothing!’

‘Well, nothing is a bit strong. And there is only one reason – because it has to be done – the same justification you used to betray your cousins in Gatina.’

Conn could see the anger and frustration in her face and she was silent for some time as they felt the schooner racing through the waves. With the winds behind them, it was possibly the fastest that it had ever gone. Even Fainche was in awe.

‘This is a magnificent ship.’ She couldn’t leave it there. ‘But just because you have the best ships doesn’t mean you will win – we will triumph in the end.’ With that she turned and walked away, returning to her cabin. Njil had joined them and watched her leave.

‘Best ships, best weapons, best men…oh, I don’t know, I think we stand a fair chance.’ he said to the departing figure. ‘Eaorl, with this wind, we will be there in about seven days.’

‘Travel as fast as you can – this wind is here for a reason.’

A couple of days into the voyage, Fainche decided to talk to him again. He thought it was because he was bare chested, despite the cold winds, doing his daily tai chi on the deck. Their conversations were fairly truncated events.

She started with. ‘So Fara is actually dead.’

‘Yes, she is – she is buried in Mylae. We buried all of them.’

‘ALL of them.’

‘The whole warband that was sent to stop me taking Tabiti’s heart-stone is dead – all twenty of them.’

‘Now you are trying to tell me that you and a single Valkeri took down an entire squad of Ancuman wiga. Just when I start to believe you, you go and ruin it.’

‘Oh, I had some help. I had a few Twacuman wiga with me.’

She laughed out aloud. ‘Twacuman are NOT going to go into Rakia and kill Ancuman for any…’ She stopped when Conn leant forward and showed her his medallion. He wore two medallions – one was the pentacle design of his mother’s. It sometimes hid the medallion given to him by Caewyn.

‘You haven’t noticed this?

She went white. ‘Feorhhyrde – you can NOT be the Feorhhyrde!’ She sat on the bench and held her head in her hands. ‘This is NOT happening to me…’

‘Well, I don’t know what you think IS happening to you, Fainche, but just think what stories you will have to tell when you get back. It is not anything new to the Ancuman, however, they already know. I think they said pretty much the same thing.’

Fainche turned, tears in her eyes and stomped down the stairs, back to her room. It would be days before she spoke to Conn again.

The Schooner was making good speed towards Moetiak, but as they got closer to turning south into the Moetian Bay, the weather was again a problem. For some reason, Conn was not surprised.

‘What is the closest deep harbor?’ Conn had deep harbours constructed all over and some were complete and some not.

‘Batra is complete. I’ve even been there – three weeks ago.’

‘Good, head there. I suspect we are not to enter Moetiak via the harbor.’

Batra was a good option; Arlen’s brother Aghy was now the Eaorl and he had a very good relationship with him. It was another two days before they arrived in the town.

On the last night at sea, Conn was in his cabin and someone knocked on his door.

‘Come in.’

It was Fainche and she wasn’t nearly as formally dressed as usual. She was wearing a light shift and coat that showed her mature and well developed body, even in the faint light. She didn’t look well; she was hot and flustered.

‘Fainche. How can I help you?’

‘Remember I said that I don’t fornicate with men…’ She came into the room and closed the door. Luckily Conn had the largest cabin on the vessel.

‘I do – I remember thinking what a shame…’

She smiled – it wasn’t something she normally did. ‘Well, I have fornicated only twice before – when I was sixteen. I was … initiated … by a Folgere... and then by… another...’

‘A male Folgere? Since when have there been male Folgere in Meshech…?’

‘He wasn’t Priecuman.’

‘Oh. So the Ancuman have male Folgere. That I didn’t know.’

‘Anyway, I have never desired to fornicate with a male since. For one thing it was not a pleasant experience. However, since I have been on this boat that has changed … I cannot understand why…’

Conn could. The red gemstone dangling over her breasts and Tabiti was having an impact. She continued.

‘I have been fighting the desire. But it is no longer a desire – I now have a desperate need to fornicate with a male – just once. I know I have been somewhat rude to you over these last weeks and it is a lot to ask but I couldn’t ask any of the others…’ She pulled off her shift and sat naked on the bed.

Conn was conciliatory. ‘Well, I’m not one to hold grudges.’

~x192~

Aghy was surprised on three accounts; to see Njil again so soon, more so to see Conn after so long, and extremely surprised to have the niece of the Healdend of Rakian in his village. He stood beside Conn on the new docks as everyone disembarked. Conn had brought him up to date, and requested horses to carry them to Moesiak.

‘And I need five wiga to ride with me. I’m not sure how many are available in Moesiak.’

‘Of course.’

Aghy sent his Folctoga out to organize riders and horses and for them to be ready to leave at first light. They walked to the donjon. Aghy was confused.

‘I have heard nothing from Moetiak to suggest that there is a problem. Do you have any idea what is going on?’’

‘None, but I do have a bad feeling about all this – and the weather was weird.’

As they walked, Conn commented on the extensive improvements to his once very modest demesne.

‘After I’d heard about what had been done in Susa by your craeftiga, I went myself to investigate – and then Njil kindly took my Reeve with him to Atrak to learn more. He was very impressed that I asked Njil to take me next time. We have been working hard ever since. ’

Inside the hall, Fainche was even so impressed that she commented.

‘It would seem that an Eaorl in Moetia is richer that even the Healdend of Rakia – such is your luxury. I was impressed with Cyme but yours is in some ways superior.’

‘Probably because this is a new building; thanks to the Baron…’

Fainche interrupted ‘Baron? What is a Baron?’

Aghy explained. ‘A Baron ranks lower than an Eoarl but is above a Thane. It is a new creation in Moesia. We only have one so far.’

‘But they are now in Troakia and Gatina as well – I am the Baron Barek in Moetia, Baron Gambi in Gatina, and the Barons Ushu and Hebal in Trokia.

She looked at Conn. ‘I have never heard of such a thing – I presume that this is your doing?’

He nodded and she shook her head again in frustration. Despite their one night of lust, there was still a big divide between them.

Aghy had food and drink brought out, and they ate as they talked. Conn explained what had been happening in Gatina and Trokia. After dinner, Aghy asked, ‘So is there anything else you need me to do?’

‘Yes; please send a message to Susa and ask Aerlene to send a full company of Silekian wiga to Moetiak? Wilga should be there by now.’

‘Of course.’

Fainche had been quiet for a long time, but she could no longer hold back. Her curiosity got the better of her.

She addressed Aghy, ‘Eaorl, with due respect, why do you do as he’, she pointed to Conn, ‘asks? He is not even Moetian? And even if he holds title in Moesia, it is lesser – the Baron thingy.’

Conn interjected. ‘Baron of Barek to be precise.’

Argy smiled as he answered. ‘Possibly hard for you to understand, Fainche, and it is a long story, but the short version is that he made my brother an Eaorl, and removed a curse from my house that made us all ill. Also, things seem to turn out better if you do what he says and a lot worse if you don’t. Just ask the Healdend of Kania – an example of someone who didn’t do as Conn asked.’

Fainche was stunned. ‘Why – what happened to Gorman?’

Conn had been unsure if news of Gorman’s demise had made it back to Rakia, and this indicated that it hadn’t. Arlen had informed him that the ransom request had not been well received – the response from Rakia was “they have failed – feel free to execute them”. Consequently, Arlen now had all the Rakians working for him; they were ultimately grateful to have a home, having been rejected by their Healdend.

Only a few had been ransomed home – those with particularly strong connections to the former Healdend and Eaorl of Dor – which is why Conn made the ransom demand for the Rakian prisoners in Trokia a single lot. All or nothing. It must have seriously upset Fallon and Alric. Conn didn’t want to be left with five hundred prisoners.

Argy answered for him. ‘Gorman died – Esras is now Aebeling of Kania.’

Conn shrugged; ‘I asked nicely.’

By the time they retired to their rooms in the new Inn – one of Conn’s design with bedrooms, stuffed mattresses, and bath and waste water systems – it was late and they had consumed a lot of Lykian wine. Conn finished his bath, and was dressed only in the cotton yukata that had been provided for his use, when he answered the knock on the door. It was Fainche. She was wearing only her yukata and it appeared to be a size too small. She was also still wet from her bath and the yukata clung to every curve of her excellent body.

‘You know I hate you.’

‘I do.’

‘Well, despite that, I feel I need to fornicate with you again.’

‘Perhaps you should come in then.’

Fainche said, ‘Thank you’, and walked into the room, shedding her yukata as she entered. She was all business.

~x195~

It was early morning when Conn and his entourage said their farewells to Argy and left Batra at the trot. The following days were cooler than usual and overcast, with showers it allowed them to travel quickly. They rode late into the night each day, exchanging their horses at the liveries along the way, and left early every morning. Sadly the Inns were not up to the “Hilton” standard, so Fainche had to resort to asking Conn to go for a walk with her to search out some corner of the village that they could fornicate away from prying eyes. Her needs seemed undiminished.

After four days they arrived within sight of Moesiak, and Conn decided to make his way inside unannounced. The guards at the gate house were veterans from the Trokian War who still wore their medals proudly – and they agreed not to tell anyone until the morning. ‘Luckily’, it also decided to rain a slow miserable drizzle as they arrived, and they were safely entrenched into the “Boar’s Head” without being noticed.

At the livery, Conn ordered extra horses to be made ready for immediate departure and hurried into the attached Inn. There he arranged for five of his private security detail to get ready to leave, and sent a boy to raise Finghin from his slumber. As they waited for Finghin, they changed into dry clothes and sat down to eat. Conn was in range of the Cirice now and he opened his mind to Badb, who was strangely uncommunicative – but concerned about something. Gyden were sometime extremely unhelpful.

Finghin arrived as soon as he could; the stableboy had handed him a Lykian gold Ryal as a clue. Conn was sitting in the back private room eating when he arrived. He expressed his surprise.

‘Thane – or should I say Eoarl, what are you doing here? Why have you come unannounced?’

‘I’m not sure yet – how are things in the donjon?’

‘Fine as far as I know – though Driscol has taken to his bed – not a day ago.’

‘You haven’t seen him?’

‘No – only his medics – and I understand they don’t know what is wrong with him but I hear he is feeling better today – he has a new medic.’

Always suspicious of change, Conn asked if he knew anything about the Medic.

‘I though he was one of yours. I heard he had been trained in Gatinak…’

‘Not one of mine. And Alduni?’

‘He is with Bran – they have gone to Farah – Alduni’s uncle, the Eaorl Penda died last week – his horse fell on him. He was only thirty six. Bran and Alduni have gone to pay their respects.’

‘Let me get this right – Driscoll is seeing anew Medic who is Gatinan, and days from death, while Bran and Alduni are away – and travelling together back from Farah. How many men does he have with him?’

‘The usual – about twenty.’

‘Did he take any Valkeri with him?’ Because of Ana, Conn had arranged for squads of Valkeri to move to Moesiak – as well as Susa.

‘No, he said he didn’t need them.’

‘I wonder why. Anyway, somehow I don’t think it’s going to be enough.’

He stood to leave. He instructed the four wiga who were waiting to get the horses.

‘Finghin; do what you have to do to find Ana – tell her that Driscol has been poisoned and that the Medic is an imposter and there will be an assassination attempt on him – sometimes soon. Get her to tell the Valkeri. They will believe her.’

As Conn headed outside to his horses, he noticed that Fainche was waiting for him on horseback.

‘Are you sure?’ he asked her. ‘You are welcome to stay.’

‘I think I’ll go for the ride’ was all she said.

‘It will not be a sightseeing tour – at worst it will be a complete waste of time.’

She shrugged. ‘Be that as it may…’

Waiting for Conn was one of his black gelding; young, he was a third generation horse, and although not perfect, he still two hands taller than everything else there. The Chief Groom explained that he had been left by Aerlene a week previously; he had gone lame but he was fine now. Conn was very grateful, and minutes later they passed through the main gate. Conn stopped to ask the guards if anyone unusual had left recently.

‘No one unusual; mostly Moesians, some Lykians, some Trokians, and a couple of Gatinans.’

‘The Gatinans – they were merchants?’

They looked at each other searching for an answer. ‘They didn’t have any pack animals – they said their animals were out of town because they got lame. They were looking for replacements.’

‘So which way do they go?’

‘Towards Farah. They will have to pass the other gatehouse so they will be able to confirm if they passed.’

The Gatinans – though Conn was sure they were in fact Rakians – had indeed passed the other gatehouse; and had continued on towards Farah. Farah was typical four day ride from Moesiak. Conn was intent in doing it in less; each rider had an extra horses, and when they go to the livery at the ferry crossing, they swapped the tired horses for others. Conn kept his black gelding however; he was worth two of any other horse.

At the ferry, the Rakians had increased to ten in number – and over the river, they now numbered thirty. Conn wondered where these men had been hiding all this time, but Farah was fairly rough country and it backed on to a huge mountain range. There would be plenty of places to hide.

What was certain was that they were catching them – ever so slowly. They also weren’t travelling on the roads all the time and every now and then the trail would divert off the road to avoid a minor settlement.

On the third day, the Rakians had divided into two groups; Conn presumed that they must be setting a trap somewhere ahead. As far as Conn could tell, they were half a day from the town of the Eaorl of Farah; and like most of Moesia, the population was sparse, settlements were intermittent, and the rest of the demesne was forest and bushland. There were many places ideal to ambush someone if that was your intent. For them to choose this place, they must know that the Aebeling was near – there must be a traitor inside the entourage.

Conn split his group into two as well; he sent Aghy’s men one way and kept his Lykians with him. He had trained them; he knew what they would do, and he knew that they would follow his instructions to the letter. He told one of them to kill Fainche if she made a noise; a suggestion she thought was joke until she saw Conn’s expression – and the look on the wiga’s face.

It was soon clear where the trap was; the roadway followed a natural valley between two hilltops; and the hilltops on either side provided perfect cover for bowmen. From his outlook, Conn used his telescope to see that a party of riders was about to head into the ravine from the other end – Bran’s group.

A new course of action presented itself and he told his wiga to hasten up the side of the valley and attack those hidden. He would attack from the front. Not good policy but his best option at this time.

Fainche looked at him as he prepared his bow. ‘What are you going to do exactly?’

‘Create a diversion so too many of my men don’t die.’

‘Isn’t that your men’s job.’

‘Not unnecessarily.’ With that he kicked the horse into a canter and as it hit the flat he kicked it into a gallop towards the oncoming riders perhaps a mile away. Big, fit and strong, the gelding gained speed as he went.

It didn’t take long for the Rakians to realize that the rider galloping towards Bran was going to interfere with their plans, and they commenced their attack earlier than they would have liked – and by exposing themselves to the Moesians, they exposed themselves to Conn’s bow. After about five died from too far a distance then they understood, they took cover in the trees – to find that Conn’s wiga were arriving from behind. Forced down the hillside, they concentrated their fire on Conn. The Bran’s wiga had gone into a defensive mode, to protect their Aebeling, and Conn hoped that they didn’t fire at him as well, but the golden sun on his shield was clear enough.

He continued to fire as he galloped; and the Rakians continued to fall. As he got closer, Conn felt arrows being deflected by his shield and armour, but unfortunately the horse was not so protected – the gelding staggered – he had been hit with arrows, and he valiantly struggled to stay upright as Conn prepared for the inevitable fall. Conn loosened his feet from the stirrups and as the gallant horse drew its last few breaths, its head fell forward and Conn threw himself over the side; pushing himself away from the dying horse and using his life of training to complete a barrel roll as he hit the ground. As he completed the roll, he stood as Rakians leapt down the embankment to finish the job.