IV
Nestled as it was in the far southeast of Morguhn, a long day’s ride from Morguhnpolis, with the Great Southern Forest lying between it and any other occupied area, Horse Hall—and Lady Hehrah, its chatelaine—remained blissfully unaware of the abysmal failure of the rebellion and the utter rout of the crusaders.
The komeesa, who now considered herself to be Hari’s widow, lolled in the very lap of her dreams. Not only was her faith now the only allowed faith in the county—and, she surmised, in the duchy—but at long last, after many dragging years of suffering the unwarranted persecutions and gainsayings of her barbarian husband, she was victorious. Savoring her triumph, she laid a heavy and pitiless hand upon Horse County and all who dwelt there.
The threescore or so inhabitants of Horse Hall village had not been particularly upset when the priest and hall men had come and taken the child, assuming that bluff old Lord Hari would shortly ride in and either return the boy or explain why he was needed at the hall. But when, the very next morning, some of the same hall men had come and, after beating the village headman senseless, had seized, bound and borne off his pretty young wife, grinningly informing all and sundry that their hysterical captive was henceforth to have the honor of being Lady Hehrah’s love girl, there were mutters of an appeal to the komees, upon his return from Morguhnpolis.
Danos, confirmed captain of the komeesa’s guard after his report of Gaios’ demise, had laughed harshly. “Then you bastards will have a damned long wait! That blaspheming pagan is now burning in Hell, his stinking corpse so much offal. You had all best heed me. Heed me well!
“My Lady Hehrah now has the power of life or death over you and your wives and your snotty brats. It is her right to claim whatever, whomever, she wishes. It is your duty to render her honor, to accede freely to her every request or demand. If you fail in this, your duty, you will be made to suffer or to die for the crime.”
The stunned villagers stood, silently listening to the cold, sharp words of the arrogant horseman, aware of their helplessness against so many armed men.
Danos continued, “Now, my lady feels that this village has been too long without a House of God. Since God is Lord of all, He must be served with the best we can offer. The Holy Pavlos, sub-kooreeos of this county, will be here shortly to bless the shack whence this wench came; it will be used as a church until you have time to build a proper one.”
Then they clattered out of the village toward Horse Hall.
But within a few hours they were back to seize another child. And after that, another … and another … and another!
When, a week after their first incursion, Danos led his men into the village, it was empty, deserted. The trail led into the forest, but knowing that horsemen would be at a disadvantage in the dense, trackless underbrush, Danos halted his troop and rode back to the hall.
Although Lady Hehrah was violent in her rage at being denied the simple, holy pleasure of a sacrificial ceremony whenever she felt the need for one, Sub-kooreeos Pavlos was mightily relieved. His throat was grown raw from so much chanting, and the shrill screams of two or three victims each day were just too much, setting his nerves on edge and his head to throbbing. Also relieved were those servants whose chore it had been to bury the hacked little corpses; digging was, after all, hard work.
One balmy dawn, a pair of men rode big warhorses along the Forest Road. Sacred Sun’s rays sparkled and glittered upon the polished surfaces of their three-quarter armor. The faces of the two riders were remarkably similar in cast as well as grim expression. So alike were they that one might have surmised them brothers, since both appeared of middle years. But they were actually father and son, though a bare sixteen years separated them in age.
Behind them, in column of twos, rode a score of Thoheeks Bili’s picked Freefighters and three full troops of Confederation kahtahfrahktoee or heavy cavalry.
At the place where an almost invisible game trail crossed the road, Komees Hari Daiviz and Vaskos Daiviz drew rein and conferred with Captain Linstahk, commander of the Confederation troops.
“This is the way of which I spoke last night, Gaib,” said the komees. “We’d best leave half a troop here, in case the swine flee along this road … though I doubt me they’ll head into Morguhn.”
The young captain frowned thoughtfully. “Why not a platoon then, Lord Hari? Surely thirty of my troopers will be sufficient to deal with any number of the scum we’ve encountered so far.”
The old nobleman shrugged. “Whatever you think best, Gaib, for you do know your men better than I.”
So it was that the chosen platoon, grumbling as soldiers always have and always will, watched the last of the long, single column finally disappear among the trees, heading roughly west and south.
The mixed column, paralleling the course of Forest Creek, clove to the woods path almost to the unmarked border between Horse County and Sheep County, domain of Komees Djeen Morguhn, forded the creek and then followed another game trail and a succession of tiny glades, heading almost due south. They rode in silence—no bugle or shouts, all orders being transmitted in hushed tones from each rider to the one behind. They rode with visors down and beavers up, bows strung, arrows nocked, swords out, though due to the narrowness of the ways they traversed, targets were left slung.
In every glade, they found horse droppings and the marks of hooves; obviously a goodly number of horses were roaming far deeper into the forest than was either normal or safe—and Komees Hari was troubled by the fact.
“Dammit, Vaskos, Red Death must be easing into senility to let them stray thus! He knows the dangers of the forest, what with boars and bears and treecats, not to mention lack of proper graze. Why, in your grandfather’s youth, there was still a goodly herd of shaggy-bulls in this forest, and as late as ten years ago, I slew a damned big mountain cat not two hours’ ride from here!”
In the interest of continued sflence, the old lord had mind-spoken. With his mind open and receptive, he awaited Vaskos’ reply but received the mindspeak of another.
“My brother … my loved brother, Hari. Red Death sorrows that he has displeased his brother. But the two-legs from my brother’s hall hunt us. Hunt horses as they would hunt deer or boar, with spear and dart and arrow. So Red Death and his subchiefs fled here and have not been pursued.”
“My brother has not displeased his brother,” Hari beamed, simply and bluntly. “His brother did not know of the terrible things done by the two-legs of the hall. All are aware that King Red Death is both valiant and wise, and he did what he thought best; that he and his were not pursued shows the sagacity of his choice.
“But, my brother, come to me. There is like to be fighting this day and your brother would feel better with his brave, wise and fearsome brother betwixt his legs, when swords ring.”
There was infinite sadness in the king stallion’s mindspeak then. “Ah, my dear brother, Red Death cannot come to you, cannot even stand. In the first fight with the two-legs, Red Death slew two of them but took a wound which has turned evil, and he would long since have been food for the carrion birds or the scuttling creatures of the forest had not his valiant sons watched over him. Will not Red Death’s true brother come to this place and bring water?”