They had a few more beers before retiring for the evening, but by the time they had left the Bout Hall, Conn’s story of surviving the assassination attempt was all over town. He didn’t wake his theow to tell them, and Kelinda wasn’t interested in gossip.
By morning he had a group of very annoyed theow and despite his denial, they blamed him. A messenger came to ask them to visit the Mundborak at midday. With time on their hands, and a desire to escape further reprimands, Conn and Derryth went for a walk.
‘Try not to kill anyone today… please’ they instructed. It was no longer a singular voice.
Derryth was concerned. ‘I cannot understand why they are blaming me as well? What did I do?’
Conn and Derryth didn’t go far. Conn had heard the previous night that there was a horse sale in town the next day, and as Conn was looking to buy more horses, he thought he should see what there was available. Amongst the pens of small wiry ponies there was one pen that surprised Conn with their size and conformation – five tall grey geldings – that looked very much like some of the horses he was breeding in Meshech and the very horses he had in his stables. He asked the ostler of their origins.
The ostler was leathered, old and wiry like his horses and he looked at Conn with deep curiosity through intense and clear eyes; bark brown rather than black.
‘These? These are from Kerch. I buy them from breeders along the border – they rarely come to these markets. They also never sell stallions or mares. It is said that they were once the most treasured horses in all the nations – but many were lost in the great wave.’
‘I don’t know much about Kerch…’
‘Kerch is where the great town built by the Casere once stood. He was famous for many things – including his horses – they were bigger and stronger than any others. About these horses – which one do you want to buy?’
‘I’ll take the lot.’
He appeared shocked. ‘All five – these are very fine animals. Each is worth at least ten thousand Ryals each.’
It was a small fortune for a horse. ‘I agree.’ Conn searched into his pouch and took out fifty thousand in gold and silver coins – four year’s income for a frugal man. He handed them over. The ostler took the coins and then handed back ten thousand. ‘A discount for buying all five. So where would you have them delivered?’
‘To the White Dove Inn. For the Steward of Tashke.’
He looked back sharply at Conn. ‘So you are indeed the Steward of Tashke. I’ve heard mention of you. They say you are from Samria but you don’t look like a Samrian to me.’ He then turned and looked at Derryth, and bowed. Derryth bowed back. ‘And to have one of the Ancient Ones as your counsel – you are definitely not Samrian.’
Conn nodded. ‘It is true we are both from Meshech. Meshech is…’
The old man interrupted him. ‘I have heard of Meshech – but not for a very long time. Very interesting.’ He called over some boys from the livery and paid them a healthy tip to take Conn’s horses to the White Dove.
‘So why do you want these horses? I heard you have a lot already.’
‘I have a lot of ponies but Wiga need big horses – I would buy more if you have them.’
‘I do not. It is rare that I have this many – usually they give me one or two. I had very little expectation of selling them for what they are worth. But then, the Kerchians are a very strange people.’
‘How so?’
‘Well, since the destruction of the great town they have been waiting for the return of the Casere.’
‘Didn’t he die over eight hundred winters ago?’
‘He did – but still they wait.’ He opened the gate and the boys led the horses in the direction of the inn. Conn and Derryth then watched him go to another horse standing calmly. Beside it was a pack horse. Both seemed as old as him. He was soon ready to depart, and after mounting the animal, he rode back to Conn.
‘If you want more of these animals perhaps you should go and ask in Kerch. Because they are for wiga, perhaps they will sell you some – they have many more than they need.’
‘So how far away is Kerch?’
‘Two days to the border. After that I do not know but probably another four.’ He looked at Conn curiously for a moment. ‘You should go – I’m sure you will find a welcome if you have gold. The only reason they sell me these is because they have a shortage– and they need gold to buy theow.’ He bowed again to both Conn and Derryth.
‘Farewell, Meshechians. Good luck.’ He then turned his horses to ride out of town. He looked back. ‘But then luck is a fickle friend and a whimsical enemy. You should perhaps stick to faith.’
The two watched him ride away, as Derryth muttered to himself. ‘And if your faith fails you and you fall at the feet of your enemy, you can hope that the Gyden will give you better luck next time.’
Conn looked at him inquisitively.
Shaken from his contemplation, Derryth looked back. ‘The old ostler – what he said is something that Twacuman are taught as children. That luck, faith and hope are all things that pull us in directions that are not our destiny. They are all connected by fate – we are but leaves floating in a breeze.’
‘And the breeze is fate?’
‘Or it could be the tree and when it lets you go…do you have the feeling that we will not be able to find him again? I didn’t expect to hear that from him. Very strange.’
Conn agreed. ‘Least I know what I’m supposed to do next. I do wish I had clearer instructions.’
‘Cynilda will not be happy…’
‘I think she is getting used to disappointment.’
‘I hadn’t noticed.’
The Mundborak of Chois wasn’t happy either – not about the horses but about the attack on Conn the previous night and the death of her Steward. She was beside herself in embarrassment. ‘You realize of course what this means?’
‘I have an idea – everything that was his is now mine?’
‘Indeed. You are instantaneously the Steward of Chois, and as you have already impregnated the heir of Chois, she is now the Mundborak. I am at your mercy to dispose of as you wish…’
Conn looked at Eowen. He could tell that she was ready to face the disappointment. It was well established that Conn didn’t play the game by the same rules as everyone else. ‘Well, it may not come to that. I’m going to ask Eowen to make a choice. She can resign in favour of her daughter. If she chooses to not do so, with a heavy heart, I offer her for sale. I do not do that lightly as she is pregnant and I would not like my daughters to be raised outside of the care of their father.’
The Mundborak was surprised. ‘If she chooses to resign, her daughter Beornia is a child…’
‘Indeed – that means that you will have to stay as Mundborak. Who would I sponsor to buy you to become the next Steward?’
The answer was quick – too quick. Obviously they knew each other very well already. ‘Boden… he is the Folctoga … he had not the means but if he had a benefactor….’
‘And if Eowen is to be sold?’
The smile disappeared but the answer was the same. ‘Definitely Boden.’
Conn looked back at Eowen as she had a little tantrum, jumping up and down in one spot.
He placed his hand on her shoulder. ‘Do you need time to think about it?’
She stopped and shook her head. ‘No, I know the right thing to do – I just don’t like the answer.’ She turned and looked at her Aunt. ‘If I leave Beornia with you, will you raise her as your own?
Cearo looked doubly surprised at her question. Clearly she didn’t expect it.
‘Of course. You are both my family.’
‘And you will give me a village as Mundbora?’
‘Which ever one you want.’
She looked at Conn. ‘I presume you have a preference?’
‘I do – one with a port – and as close as possible to Utika.’
They both looked at him strangely. ‘Why Utika?
Conn lied. ‘Because that side is closest to Rasadi…’
They soon had the village decided, not that Eowen was happy at the choice. Conn was relieved to learn that he wouldn’t be able to take ownership until a winter had passed because it was a transfer rather than a capture. The current inhabitants had to be found a new home; the claim had a domino effect on the ownership of other demesne. Sorted, they went back to finalize other details.
‘Fugol has five theow besides me.’ Cearo advised, ‘Do you want to add them to your hird or would you have me sell them?’
‘Yes please – except for the Ancuman – Dorte? She made me a promise and I intend to have her keep it. Where is she now?’
‘She is under guard. You do realize that she tried to kill you.’
‘I do – I’m sure she was just following orders.’
Cearo laughed. ‘Perhaps. Anyway, she has already been found guilty of oath breaking and we were going to execute her tomorrow.’
‘Can you commute her sentence?’
She shrugged. Despite the fact that they were members of the same hird, there didn’t seem much concern for her well-being and imminent demise at the end of a sword. ‘At this moment you are the Steward. Mercy is within your power. Are you really sure you want her alive?’
‘I think so; but if you send her to me, I will decide. If we don’t come to an understanding, you can execute her tomorrow.’ Conn decided that then was the best time to break the news. ‘Also, Mundborak, after we have finalized those arrangements we will depart. We have a long way to go.’
‘I understand. I’ve heard that you are going as far as Bahal. That is indeed a long journey.’
‘No, not Bahal. We are going to Kerch.’
Pandemonium resulted.
Once quiet had been established, the question was asked.
Conn had his reason in mind.
‘Two reasons. For a long time I have been told of the history of the Casere – this is my chance to find out more. Chois is closer to Kerch than anywhere.’
The Mundborak was amused. Curiosity was hardly a valid reason. ‘And the second?’
‘They have lots of horses for sale – and I’ve bought five of them but I’d like a few more – preferably mares.’
‘I don’t hold up any hope of success. The Guardians of Kerch are notoriously protective of their lands and their horses.’ She paused further. ‘Anyway, who told you of their availability?’
‘An ostler – the one selling the Kerchian horses.’
She suddenly looked surprised ‘Nyle. His name is Nyle. I did not know he was here. He turns up every now and again. We don’t know where he lives or where he goes. He usually has a couple of horses for sale and he makes enough to survive for years. I have one myself. Ten thousand Ryals is a lot for a horse… but we think he is crazy. You would do well not to believe in anything he says.’
The next day they arranged for Boden to purchase Cearo, and for the formal adoption of Beornia. Conn was no longer Steward.
Prior to losing his authority, he spoke to Dorte; she was brought to see him with two wiga as her guards. They waited at the door. She looked at him accusingly.
‘So you would make me your whore?’
‘Not at all. I would just have you as a theow.’
‘So if I am not to be a receptacle for your puny manhood, why keep me alive?’
‘I prefer to be the judge, jury and executioner – otherwise I have an aversion to the death penalty.’
In Meria, execution was reserved for the highest of crimes – rapists and oath breakers. Oath breaking was a bit too broad in his view – though treason was acceptable. It was a fine line.
Conn continued. ‘Also, did you not made a promise – I thought the Axum took promises as sacrosanct?’
‘Yes – but I thought you would be dead. I didn’t think I’d have to keep it. I made no promise to keep you alive.’
‘Then I relieve you of your promise – you may return with the wiga to the dungeon.’
She turned to leave and then stopped. ‘But won’t I then be executed.’
‘Of course, you are an oath breaker. The Merians take their oath of hospitality seriously.’
‘So my choice is to have my head severed from my body or become your whore?’
‘As I said, I make no claim to your body. I have relieved you of your promise. As for you keeping your life, it is a better offer than you would get in any town in Axum. If you wish to live, stay. If you are happy to die, leave with the wiga.’
~oo0oo~
A couple of days later Conn led a very large contingent of riders out of Chois west on the road to Utika, and the many villages between. Dorte had decided to stay with them – ultimately anything seemed a better option than being executed.
It was a well-travelled road and they stayed at the many inns along the way. The second to last inn was where they were to turn south; following the coast line instead of crossing over the range via a pass through the high hills.
If they had continued west, they would have arrived at the last inn in Meria before crossing the border into Utika. If you turned south inside of crossing the river that defined the border, you would arrive at the small village of Merin – his future demesne. Located in a valley, Merin sat on one side of the river while Utika controlled the village on the other.
Having turned south, a day later they arrived at the last inn in Chois before entering into Kerch. It was a small fishing village and the Mundbora was a cousin of Beowen’s. Over dinner, they discussed what road they should take. The Mundbora was not encouraging.