That’s what really touched the thing off, Y know, Mistuh.” Hwahruhn sighed again. “They were hired men in the service of Lord Urbahnos of Pahdookahport, the master of the three slaves, the man who wanted them back. He had offered a huge reward for their recapture, alive.” “Wai…” Wolf leaned forward in his saddle and spoke slowly and distinctly. “He ain’t a-gonna git them, mistuh, nor nobody elst, f r that matter. All three of ’em’s enlisted in the comp’ny of Captain Count Martuhn of Twocityport f r the rest o’ the war, and then—by the orders o’ His Grace Duke Tcharlz—they gets their freedom!”
Knowing that he had precious little time to spare, Duke Tcharlz and his columns descended on the phony war downriver with frightening speed, marching something over a hundred miles—cavalry and infantry, and much of it crosscountry—in a few hours less than five days. The young King of Mehmfiz and his three marshals, one of them an actual nobleman of his court, the other two mercenary captains, strove to fight delaying actions in keeping with the king’s promises to the Duke of Traders townport; therefore, to that planned end, they separated… and this was their downfall. One after the other, the wily duke forced them into open battle and decimated them, pursuing the shattered ranks far southward across the border and deep into the Kingdom of Mehmfiz itself. Nor did he and his troops simply war on fellow soldiers as his columns returned northward. They razed and raped, looted and burned and slew; no structure of less strength than a walled and well-defended town was safe from their savage depredations.
And, as Tcharlz had known full well they would, the court of Mehmfiz was quickly agitated by the grumblings of the nobles whose northern lands were being hardest hit by this large-scale raiding, even while the streets and alleys of the young king’s largest city were becoming clogged with lowborn refugees, each of them with grisly and horrifying tales to recount.
There was now but a single army left free and unpummeled in the north. It was the personal force of King Uyr, and, despite himself, Duke Tcharlz was beginning to develop a degree of respect for the young man, who seemed able to avoid trap after trap, to wriggle his force out of situations instinctively. Nor could this military expertise be that of mere experience, for the royal ruler of Mehmfiz was not that old and he had never before personally warred so far as the duke and his informants were aware. The manuevering had now crossed the border and was taking place over the battered northern provinces of Mehmfiz itself. Save for the two armies, these provinces—formerly among the richest of the kingdom—were become virtual deserts, empty of man. The fine crops not yet harvested had been either burned or trampled into the earth by hooves and booted feet. Harvested crops had been either looted or burned while the structures that had held them, fine halls and hovels alike, were become roofless ruins, their former occupants either fled southward or lying—their scavenger-picked bones scattered and bleaching on the ground—in or nearby those ruins.
Knowing that King Uyr’s intemperate alliance had already cost him and his kingdom dearly, and certain that—with but the single, small army to back him—the kinglet would be unable to further menace the states to his north, Duke Tcharlz was upon the verge of breaking off and marching his force back to Twocityport. Then into his camp came riding a delegation under a flag of truce. The meeting between the two leaders took place within the open parkland of a ruin that Tcharlz well remembered. It had been here that he had almost lost an eye to the toothsome, red-haired noblewoman he had been raping. Such had been his admiration of her spunk and spirit that when he was done with her he had, rather than turn her over to his officers and troopers, gifted her with a good horse and a purse of gold and even allowed her to keep her jewels. King Uyr seemed anything other than the utter fop that northern rumor named him to be. He was very short, but such was his dynamism that the duke found himself forgetting the difference in height There was an intense vitality in every movement of the young king’s wiry frame, and intelligence of a high order glinted from the depths of his gray blue eyes. When wine had been sipped—each had brought his own and after the opening amenities, King Uyr had leaned back in his scorched chair—both chairs and the heavy table having been dragged from out of the nearby ruins for the meeting— and, smiling ruefully, commented, “Well, my esteemed Cousin Tcharlz, you’ve played merry hell in these my northern counties, have you not?”
Tcharlz shrugged. “There is only one way to conduct warfare, lord, and that is to fight to win; the harder and bloodier you make it for your enemy, the quicker you win.”
The king nodded. “You have made it hard for me, cousin, damned hard indeed. Half a dozen of my richest, most powerful and most influential counts are constantly badgering me and would likely be fomenting a rebellion, had I not had the foresight to summon them all to my army, where I can keep an eye on them. It is partially at their behest that I meet you here.” The young monarch leaned forward. “What would you say if I asked that you and yours return north and I and mine return south, eh? You were wise to agree, cousin, for by this time Duke Alex has already at least invested your capital, if it has not indeed fallen to his arms.”
Tcharlz smiled lazily, catlike. “The town proper may be in that arrogant popinjay’s hands, King Uyr, but not my new citadel, I’ll wager you; and unless or until he holds that fortress, hell have no use of the port or of much of the town.”
“A half-finished fort won’t delay his army long, cousin,” said the king. “Oh, ho, ho,” laughed Tcharlz. “I’ve stolen a march on you, lord king, that I have. The fortress is completed, completed and garrisoned and in command of a veteran captain, Martuhn of Geerzburk. He’s a born nobleman of the eastern kingdoms, driven from his patrimonial estates by a greedy overlord. Now I’ve invested him with another county, and it is to his own interest to hold that citadel for me; and he can if any man can. The merchants of Pahdookahport have hired on their own mercenary troops, and quite a strong contingent of them, too. So have the rulers of my client states to the north of the Ohyoh. They’re none of them strong enough to go on the offensive, but if that dung-eating hound Alex should be fool enough to attack either of them, he’ll be badly singed. “So, my dear enemy, I can see no reason to curtail my romp here in the rich lands of Mehmfiz. Over the years of late, I’ve been vegetating, growing old and fat, while attending to affairs of state and letting hirelings do my fighting for me. After these last few weeks, though, lord king, living again the hard, strenuous, spartan life of a soldier on campaign, I feel and—so my gentlemen attest often—look at least twenty years younger than my actual years. “Since this raiding and riding and fighting so well agrees with me, and since, as I have told you, there is nothing of an urgent nature to summon me back to mine own lands, and since I have no lines of supply to hamper my movements or disturb my sleep—this, because my forces and I are living well off your lands, lord king—I can see no reason to desist just yet. “Perhaps after I have razed a few more of your counties and have finally chivvied you and your remaining forces to panting, bleeding tatters you will truly regret your and Duke Alex’s little scheme to forcibly divest me of that which is lawfully mine.
“Now”—Tchariz shoved back his chair and stood, hitching Ws sword back around for easier walking—“unless my lord king of Mehmfiz wishes to begin discussion of the terms of his surrender, I’ve matters to attend to in my camp.” The young king’s eyes flashed the cold fires of outraged anger for a moment, even as his knot of retainers snarled and grumbled curses at the impudence of this mere duke, but Uyr’s anger dissipated as quickly as it had appeared. “As you wish, Cousin Tchariz, as you wish. I have little need and no intention of surrendering to you. Rather, I came this day to suggest that we call it a draw and retire to our respective capitals.