In the wavery light of the dim and flaring, flickering lamp, Bili did not at first recognize what the men all were staring upon with such fascinated horror. The great sword still stood up from the hairy body it pinioned, lamplight setting the golden hilt and crossguard, the jewels of the pommel and the gold and silver insets of the exposed portions of the wide blade to flashing like bits of fire.
But then Bili moved to where he could better see the focus of the others’ attention ... and the mighty axe dropped from a suddenly nerveless hand, while his bemused mind whirled with a chaos of half-formed thoughts.
That body pierced through with the royal sword of state of the Kingdom of New Kuhmbuhluhn, that huge, big-boned body, covered almost entirely with thick, curly, dark-red hair, that body lying dead in its own dung and blood, pinned to the floor by Bili of Morguhn’s single, powerful thrust, that body was not the body of the monstrous wolf Bili had slain. That body was the dead body of Byruhn, King of New Kuhmbuhluhn!
Two hours later, the sword of state had been cleaned and once more lay in its accustomed place, but now serving as the surrogate for a monarchy permanently extinct in the original line of succession, representing a dead dynasty. Thoheeks Sir Bili of Morguhn sat once more in the tall, canopied armchair, and the still-shaken councilors, white-faced and dumb, for this once, ranged both sides of the long walnut table. At the opposite end of the table, occupying a specially crafted, outsized seat, towered the hairy bulk of Pah-Elmuh, the Kleesahk.
“The ... the body,” Bili informed the council members, “is back on its couch in the chamber above. None saw what was borne from my suite, and as the guardsmen who did it are all Freefighters of my own squadron, none will ever know.
“Up in that chamber, the guardsmen and I found the corpse of poor Oodehn, the Kleesahk whose turn it was this night to bide with the late king. Oodehn still lay upon his pallet—his throat had been torn out, apparently, whilst he slept, for there was no slightest sign of any struggle or combat.
“New Kuhmbuhluhn is not my land and people, New Kuhmbuhluhnburk not my city, yet I feel strongly that those outside this chamber be told only that King Byruhn, after lying long near to death, finally succumbed of his fearsome head injury, on this night. Then let us get the body encrypted as soon as is decently possible.
“Insofar as the war and the siege and the impending set battle are concerned, since both of the monarchs to whom I swore my oaths now are deceased, I could—both legally and morally—march out with my squadron. But I shall not. I shall continue in my present capacities, if that is agreeable to all of you gentlemen, until the battle be won by our combined arms, the siege be broken and the Skohshuns put to flight.
“Meanwhile, I strongly urge that you all forget, forgo your rivalries and senseless grievances long enough to choose a successor to King Byruhn. Well, have not one of you a suitable candidate in mind?”
Archcount Sir Daifid Howuh cleared his stringy throat. “Actually ... no, your grace. With the ... the, ahhh, demise this eve of our lamented King Byruhn, the House of Mahrloh, the ancient, royal house of New Kuhmbuhluhn, be extinct.”
“Well, dammit, man, this is no time to quibble in regard to legal niceties,” snapped Bili peevishly. “If the main line be done, surely there are cousins, cousins-german, bastards—any degree of kinship will do at this point in time. You are going to need a single, strong authority in the wake of this Skohshun business and in getting the kingdom reorganized, are you to escape rebellions and civil war.”
“There be no way we’ll get that or eke anything approaching it,” remarked young Count Mak Kahnuh, “not out of the remaining kin of the House of Mahrloh, lord duke. With the sole exceptions of you and Pah-Elmuh, everyone in this room is of some distant blood kinship to the former royal house, but we’re none of us of close enough kin to lodge the claim of one above that of the others. That would be the surest road to unrest within the kingdom, to the very real possibility of a full-scale rebellion right here in this still-beleaguered city, Skohshuns or no Skohshuns. As regards bastards, there are none, in fact.”
“Oh, come, come, now, Count Mak,” said Bili, “Prince—rather, King—Byruhn was a very lusty man. He had at least one mistress he kept at Sandee’s Cot—that was common knowledge, there. Surely, he had many more over the years, here, there and elsewhere throughout the kingdom.”
Archcount Sir Daifid sighed. “At least a score and a half that come to my mind immediately, both of common and of noble antecedents; young Prince Byruhn was intensely masculine and he remained so throughout his life. But, your grace, he never, ever sired offspring; no single one of his many and legion bedmates was ever known to conceive of his seed, and that is fact.”
“Well, then,” Bili pressed on, “what about his nephew, Prince Mahrtuhn Gilbuht? Surely the old king, King Mahrtuhn, had seen to it that his chosen heir had wed and bred.”
The old archcount sighed once again, even more deeply. “Oh, yes, the young prince had been wed, twice, in fact. His first wife—my own little granddaughter, Mahrsha—died of a broken neck when her horse fell on a hunt, only six months a bride. His second wife—a younger sister of Sir Yoo Folsom—lived for nine years without ever conceiving of him.”
“She still lives, then?” inquired Bili hopefully.
“No,” replied the archcount in a low, embarrassed tone. “Her majesty died by her own hand some years agone.”
“And as well for everyone that she did, too,” snapped the eldest of the councilors, Duke Klyv Wahrtuhn. “That would’ve been a sticky, stinking business, helpful to none and exceeding hurtful to full many, had she not belatedly recalled the constraints of honor and duty to her house and her class.”
“Now just a minute, your grace!” a red-faced and obviously riled Count Djohsehf Brahk, Sir Yoo Folsom’s overlord, stood and almost shouted. “Adultery was never proven, and you know it! Both poor little Dahna and your ne’er-do-well nephew were dead before any of us knew anything had occurred. But I’m more than inclined to believe the letter she penned before she used the dagger. She was always an honorable woman—I’d known her from very infancy.”
Archcount Sir Daifid, virtually radiating hostility and bloodlust, shoved back his own chair to stand leaning across the broad table and shaking a bony fist at the younger man. “Son of a shit-eating bitch,” he snarled, “you’ve accused my late, lamented nephew of the foul crime of rape over and over again. I’d have long since had your wormy guts for garters, had I thought for one minute that any sane nobleman of this kingdom would believe, could believe you or your false and utterly baseless calumnies of the dead. But everyone who is anyone in New Kuhmbuhluhn knows the truth—your poor little Dahna was precious little less than an arrant whore!”
Three other councilors had arisen and were adding their shouted threats and insults to the cacophony when Bili grasped the hilt of the sword of state and brought the flat of the blade crashing down upon the tabletop—once, twice, thrice. “Sit down, and shut up,” he barked, when he had gained their attention, adding, in a tone that dripped sarcasm, “Gentlemen!
“Please understand me and do not think for one minute that I am but voicing a false threat. There are deadly-serious matters to be here considered, now, this day, this hour, this minute, and it is we—all of us—who must consider and decide. For long weeks now I’ve sat in on your so-called meetings and I’ve seen far too many of them devolve into name-calling, insults of the basest orders and threats of maimings, death and blood feuds, as you all dredged up—for little cause or none at all—disagreements dating back years or generations. In the current crisis, I’ll no longer tolerate such childish, selfish conduct from you, be clear on that point!