Njil laughed. ‘So you have sent Derryth to find a way through. Very thoughtful of you.’
‘I know; he was getting bored sitting around.’
~oo0oo~
When Derryth returned a few days later, he did so triumphantly, and excited that Njil had arrived with coffee and beer. Derryth was really thirsty. Sir Njil was ready to depart; he was going first to Rila with a load of timber, before returning to Atrak with marble and granite. Conn expected him back next spring. Timber was the one resource that Subari had more than enough of; it was covered in vast forests of pine, cypress and cedar, and a lot of manpower had been expended logging the trees and bringing it portside for loading. A second wharf and attached timber yard had been constructed especially for that purpose.
Conn proposed a toast. ‘To Derryth! The great explorer. You will be able to tell that story to your grandchildren as well.’
Derryth smiled sheepishly. ‘I can’t take all the credit. If I said I found the way through I’d be lying. Balios did.’
Derryth rode his own Elfina, one of Balios’ offspring, but Balios had decided to go with them on the journey. Balios was never locked up; he roamed freely and whenever Conn needed him, he was there. It was quite surreal. It seemed that he had determined that Conn didn’t need him and had followed Derryth, and had effectively taken over the expedition, much to Derryth’s chagrin. Balios was remarkably annoying for a horse because he really did have a mind of his own.
With the new arrivals from Meshech, Conn now had nearly two thousand troops under his command in Subari. Sadly, he only had three hundred horse, and most of those were essentially ponies. What he did have was a lot of bowmen and pikemen – and half the local fyrd, currently bowmen or lancers, had been trained as pikemen. From the equipment brought by Njil’s recent arrival and subsequent departure, they were now properly armed and equipped with new uniforms, armour, and weapons.
Sir Njil had brought more animals but these were fifty mules; who along with the new gang ploughs, planters and harvesting equipment would be essential for this year’s crop.
He had commented that Efilda didn’t look too well.
She thanked him for his concern. ‘I’m fine – excellent in fact. Just morning sickness.’
‘Morning sickness? Are you…’
‘Pregnant? Yes, I have successfully determined that the Marquis’s rumoured fecundity is no rumour … but it is what I wanted so I cannot complain.’
‘There are probably less stressful ways to find out. Perhaps you will be lucky and just have one child?’
‘I’m not counting on it.’
Following Sir Njil’s departure after the Spring Equinox, Conn led his team of “rustlers” west out of Subari toward the mountains. Efilda left him with the instruction that he was not to kill anyone. He promised – though he crossed his fingers when thinking of Ancuman. He did have Wystan with him; Brys was busying supervising the training of the fyrd and preparing them for the march north. They were going to have to walk over a hundred miles, and up several thousand feet in elevation, carrying heavy packs due to the lack of horses. Oxen carts would heave the really heavy “stuff”, albeit slowly. The arrival of mules had meant that the few oxen that they had could be spared from the farms.
Brys planned for everyone to be in the pass within 20 days after leaving the harbour. Conn intended to be there soon after.
Even on horseback, Conn’s progress was slow; Subari had been let go for over fifty years and there was not much left in terms of roads and clear pathways; with bush and forest reclaiming much of the land. With Derryth having already been to the mountains, it was much quicker than it could have been, and he knew deserted villages where they could get as warm as possible during the still cold nights. Once they hit the edge of the range, the going was even slower but Balios seemed to remember it as much as Derryth and he led the way. After three nights they were staring down into Sarepeta.
Half of Conn’s party were to stay; they were timber cutters and they were going to clear a path as best they could that would allow a herd of cattle to pass through and down the mountain.
‘So what is the Marquis’s name?’ he addressed the question to Wystan. He had been remarkably silent during the trip.
‘The Marquis’s name is Mungan.’
‘Do you know him well?’
He nodded. ‘I did – once. We trained together in the Border Patrol. I once called him a friend – perhaps my closest.’
‘Once?’ Conn led the way down the mountain.
‘Yes. He was not expecting to become Marquis – so like me was going to be a wiga and seek a command in the Border Patrol or the Town Guard. My father was a wiga, as his father before him. His father was the Marquis of Sumal. I was to follow in their stead. But when Mungan’s two elder brothers died of sickness, he suddenly became heir to his father and our relationship changed. And then there was his sister…’
Derryth shook his head knowingly, smiling. ‘Priecuman… and women… will they never learn…’
Wystan smiled back. ‘You are right. I should have known.’ He took a deep breath. ‘He and his sister had a different mother to his brothers who died. So at first his sister was not so important to demand a high dowry or a suitable match, and we talked of me taking her as bedda when I received my position as Folctoga. She was agreeable to the idea. Of course, as soon as he became Marquis, his favourite sister became very important indeed, and that discussion ended. Our relationship became difficult and eventually unnatural and strained. And then, of course, the assassination, and my rebellion with Efilda. It then became an embarrassment to him.’
Derryth was genuinely saddened by the story. ‘Wystan, your story is a tragedy. I will honour it by telling my children and their children.’
Laughing, Wystan thanked him. ‘Of course, that is not the worst part.’
The both turned and looked at him as he rode between them.
‘Yes, it gets worse. Some years ago, Dagrun sent Mungan to negotiate Efilda’s surrender, knowing of my past relationship with him. She of course refused, and Mungan went back empty handed. Before he left he secretly passed me a pouch. It had two letters. One was from him, promising me a March if I was to arrange to have Efilda die – he even gave me the poison, and the second was from his sister, Frithlyn, proclaiming her desire for us to be together. I don’t know if they were connected but…’
‘Very admirable’, Derryth added, ‘a master stroke of using Priecuman emotions in warfare. It will make a fitting end to the story. And very sad. Of course, when I tell it, it will be sadder still. Maybe she will die before you meet again, or something equally tragic. Perhaps you will instead…’
Despite the implication, both Conn and Wystan laughed.
~oo0oo~
Once down the mountain, it took another day for them to arrive on the open grazing lands of Sarepeta, and another day to find the main camp of shepherds and their wards. Conn surveyed the camp from a distance, they were safely ensconced into the forest.
After a while, Conn handed the telescope to Brys. ‘There is something very strange going on.’
‘Strange?’ He started to look through the telescope. After a few moments, he handed it back. ‘Not strange – but certainly unusual. That main tent is Mungan’s. The Marquis seems to be visiting his herds.’
‘Really.’ Conn looked again. ‘So how many wiga would he have with him?’
‘About ten. They are capable men – I trained with most of them.’
‘In that case we won’t kill them. I think we should have a chat with Mungan.’
Derryth shook his head. ‘I was worried you were going to say that.’
‘They have been cooking beef – roasted over a fire pit.’
Derryth changed his mind. ‘Beef you say. Well, that is completely different. Of course we need to chat to him… provided that he’ll be hospitable and share some of his food.’
By nightfall, they had positioned themselves much closer to the camp, and they waited until it was well after midnight before they made their approach. Mungan had posted four sentries and they very quickly disappeared; bound and gagged. Conn’s men replaced them standing guard. Brys led the rest to the tent that was the barracks while Conn and Derryth headed for the main tent. Inside were servants and the Marquis. There would also be a servant sleeping across the doorway; a kind of human alarm, and as he wasn’t “allowed” to kill anyone, they went around the back and cut the ropes trying the corners together. They then waited. Soon, the sound of a whistle was heard and they pulled back the fly and walked in to the tent.
Conn greeted everyone loudly. ‘Sorry to be a bother, but can I speak with the Marquis of Sarepeta please?’
People jumped out of their bedrolls in all directions. He wasn’t of course speaking in the language of the Samrians – although they did understand him, so that would have been a surprise in itself. Only one had the tenacity to leap at him with a sword. He parried, as Derryth held his bow and one of Conn’s wiga lit the lantern he was carrying, providing the room with flickering light.
Conn realized immediately it was a female, and quickly allowed her to overstretch her arm, before knocking the short sword from her hand. Crying out, she retreated, holding her wrist.
Mungan, had already cried out. ‘Guards! Guards!’ But there was no response until a head poked in through the door of the tent. It was Wystan.
‘Sorry, the guards are inconvenienced at the moment. They will get to you as soon as they learn how to untie their bindings.’ He walked in, looking around. ‘Hello Mungan. Long-time no se…’ He finally noticed the girl, holding her hand. ‘Frithlyn! What are you doing here?’
They responded together. ‘Wystan! What is the meaning of this outrage?’
‘Outrage? Let me tell you about a letter I received some time ago…’ He stopped himself, took a deep breath, and gestured in Conn’s direction. ‘Perhaps you should ask the Marquis of Subari…’
‘The Marquis of what?’
‘Subari. Also Rila. And Eaorl of Kadesh and some other places. He’s also a Baron or something, as well as a Thane. I tried but I can’t remember them all. The list is ridiculously long.’
The Marquis was about to speak again but Conn held his hand to stop him as wiga organized more light. With the increasing light, they noticed Derryth and shock registered on their faces. Conn directed them all to sit. He then had a bandage brought from his supplies – a silk one, and directed the girl to come to him. She did so reluctantly, and he got her to give her his hand. He then examined it, massaged it carefully, before strapping it in the bandage. The silk would take her mind off the pain. Not a word had been said.
Finally he addressed them. ‘Thank you Wystan for the introduction. Now, it’s a very long story but I’m going to cut it short. We could be here for days. My name is Conn il Taransay and this is Derryth il Halani, a Twacuman NOT from Iladion but from an island far to the south call Meshech. At the moment, I am the Marquis of Rila in Sytha and the Marquis of Subari in Samria. The other places named are in Meshech. You could call me a mercenary if you wanted because I’ve going to give Efilda back her demesne of Samria, and she gave me the March of Subari in payment – but that is not why I am here. I’m actually here to steal cattle.’
The Marquis was dumbfounded. ‘CATTLE! You came from Subari to steal cattle! How did you even get here – there is no path through the mountains.’
‘You have been misinformed. There is. So, how many cattle can you give me?’ Conn collected a package from one of his wiga and opened it up to reveal gold coins. ‘When I say steal, I don’t mean really steal. More like not take no for an answer. I’m looking for a bargain. I need cattle for breeding and I need more for food. I have a war to fight and people need to eat.’ He handed the gold to the Marquis. ‘How many can I have – and remember, your best price.’
It took some time for everyone to calm down, by which time the wiga had been released from their bindings and breakfast was being served. Roast beef from the spit. It had been sometime since Conn and his entourage had eaten anything other than fish. Before Njil had arrived with new supplies of herbs and spices, they were down to grilled fish steaks and fish soup. They were all sick of fish. Even the hundreds of chickens that Njil had brought with him would take time to breed enough offspring for them to start eating chicken; which was the same for the pigs, goats and sheep. Consequently, they devoured a huge portion of the meat.
By mid-morning, they had determined that Conn had enough gold to buy a thousand head, a significant number as it seemed that cattle were cheap because they had more than enough. They also negotiated that another thousand would be available in twenty days or so; if events allowed.
Wystan finally asked again why Frithlyn was there.
‘Staying out of Samria.’ She shuddered as she answered. ‘That debauched Folgere seems to think that he have a right to do with me as they wants. I will not submit to him or Dagrun. However, if I don’t, I do not have permission to be bedda. So I am in exile – self-imposed.’ She looked back at him. ‘Of course, things could have been different.’
He looked away, kind of sorry that he had asked.
Conn asked the same of Mungan.
He answered with a question. ‘I presume that you had something to do with Agkell and his adventure in Subari…’
Conn nodded. ‘Lovely man…’
Mungan smiled a thin smile. ‘Quite. Anyway, when he arrived back in Samriak he said that he was the survivor of a shipwreck – all seven boats had been destroyed and although there were many survivors, most had deserted. He also claimed that his Ancuman wiga had died ensuring that he lived, in a battle against Efilda’s wiga. He claimed that her losses were so significant because of the bravery of the Ancuman that she was now greatly weakened and that it was time for Dagrun to strike and revenge his companions. So Dagrun is putting together a fyrd to attack this summer. I had no desire to be in that fyrd, so I decided it was time to count my cattle.’ He paused to contemplate. ‘So you say you have lots of fish? Do you think you could send some our way? I’d love to have fish for a change.’
Conn assured him that they would. ‘Did Dagrun really believe the story?’
‘Yes. Probably because no one told him otherwise – that it didn’t sit right. There is no one in his circle other than Ancuman – including three of those Folgere bastards. But I didn’t believe it, nor some of the other Marquis. But there is little we can do.’
Conn told him what had happened. He didn’t tell him everything.
‘And you are going to defend the pass?’
‘Of course. It is always harder to attack than defend. I hope that my inferior force will provide sufficient support to Wystan’s to make Dagrun change his mind.’
Mungan nodded. ‘I wish you well.’ He looked at Wystan. ‘I apologise for that letter. That was never my doing. You know that I would never wish Efilda any harm. It was what I was instructed to do.’