“I suppose she trotted out that ancient slander that I had forcibly raped every woman and girl in her retinue; that would be like her, dying or no. Well, Martuhn, I didn’t I did seduce a goodly number of the sluts—only the younger and better endowed ones, of course—and possibly”—the duke grinned slyly—“a few seductions were a wee bit more forceful man the rest, but most succumbed easily enough to my manly charms.
“Of course, the tales with which the strumpets alibied themselves to her were likely an entirely different kettle of fish. But what the bloody hell did that tiresome woman expect? She had never been a proper, willing wife to me, and after her father died she removed herself and her entourage clear to the end of the north wing of the old palace and kept her chambers barred and locked to me, her lawful husband, while she daily ate herself fatter and fatter until in the end she resembled nothing so much as some bloated, loathsome garden slug.” The duke poured and quaffed another goblet of brandy, took several deep breaths, and asked, “Did you swear oaths to her? Tis rumored that you promised to wed her sister, Alex’s widow, replace the present nobility with scions of the older houses and restore the ancient system of landownership, relegating all of the presently free farmers to the status of landbound serfs.” Martuhn shook his head. “Her grace required no oaths of me, your grace, and I swore none.”
The duke nodded. “That much, at least, I’ll believe of you, Martuhn. I discounted the rumor when first I heard it, and it’s obvious that none of the farmers and none of my gentry put any stock in it either. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have such strong support in those quarters. “And that’s really my case, Martuhn. There are numerous other scurrilous tales have been brought to me, but I don’t believe one in ten. As for the matters just covered, I honestly don’t know whether you’re the prince of all liars or simply a born leader and ruler and too honorable for your own good. But you have become a threat to me and to my continued reign. One of us has to go, and it will be you.
“Probably a prudent man would either have you quietly assassinated or hang you on trumped-up charges. But you served me well and faithfully for too long for me to stomach that, Martuhn. But go you must, and soon. “It’s now a week and two days shy of the new moon. When that moon is old, I shall expect you and your company to be on the road. You might go east—King Ehvin is still embroiled, I understand, and consequently hiring mercenaries. Or South—for that matter, the civil war in Mehmfiz is far from resolved and both sides are rich, as is the looting.”
Martuhn hung his head briefly, then straightened it and his body to the erect, unmoving posture of a soldier receiving orders. “It will be as your grace wishes, of course. But, your grace… 7” “Yes, captain?”
“My… agreement with the nomads, you will honor it?” “Of course not, man!” snapped the duke. “Don’t be a fool. It was a good ploy to get our wounded back though, I grant you that much.”
“Your grace, I gave the chiefs my word of honor and—“
“And, as I said earlier, you may have too much belief in your honor for your own good, captain. Those bastards will get no uncontested passage over my lands, I trow, not after they butchered most of my nobles and hunted me and the rest like beasts of the chase. If cross they will, let them go north for a few hundred miles to where it’s a mere stream.”
“But, your grace, my pledged word…”
Tcharlz had once more grasped the sword. He raised it and brought the flat crashing down on the desktop, his eyes sparking with rage. “Enough, I say, captain; I’ll hear no more of this matter! And if you want to keep your tongue to leave the duchy with, I advise you to recall my previous warning. Dismiss’” At last, the guttering lamp flame flared once and died and Martuhn could no longer see the interior of the yurt or even the young woman who lay pressed close against him. He could now feel her soft warmth, smell the clean fragrance of her hair and sense the muted thunder of her heart. He realized before his thoughts again wandered back into the tumultuous recent past that he was beginning to truly love Stehfahnah. Immediately he had returned to the citadel, Martuhn sent Nahseer across the river to seek out and fetch back the war chief. Milo returned with the Zahrtohgahn in the small, speedy little sailing boat that same day, and the captain put the recent events to him bluntly.
At the end, he said, “And so, if your folk are to cross on the cable barges, it must be done soon. Nor will you be able to count on a peaceful transit of the duchy; now you must all be prepared to fight for every foot of ground. Tcharlz is no tyro at any aspect of arms or armies, and he bears intense hatred for you all, based upon your defeat and pursuit of him. If he can quickly raise an army—“ “You doubt, then, that he can, Martuhn?” asked Milo. The tall captain nodded. “It’s possible that he won’t be able to soon muster any effective numbers, for various reasons. To wit: Before the debacle at Traderstown, he had legally adopted me, recognized me as his heir and made me count of the city of Twocityport, as well as his senior military commander. When it seemed that he was dead, both the older nobility and his own, newer noble houses pledged themselves wholeheartedly and unasked to me… and they, none of them, seemed at all pleased at his return.
“I am certain that both the dukes had expected me to hold Traderstown to the last man against you and yours, but I could see early on that it was indefensible against any determined assault, so I opted to withdraw in good order with all my infantry—the bulk of whom were drawn from the free farmers of this duchy—and all those others I deemed worth saving. The result of that action is that the common country folk of the duchy now hold me in far higher esteem than they do Tcharlz.”
“So, you don’t think they’d willingly respond to a call to arms from their duke?” inquired Milo.
“From the way all the people—noble and common alike—spoke whenever I stopped to bid someone farewell on my way back here from Pirates’ Folly, those who didn’t actually refuse would most of them assuredly drag their feet mightily. You see, they all recall that Tcharlz made war on me, besieged me in this very fortress once before—that was in the matter of the Steevuhnz boys, you may recall—then suddenly forgave me everything and secured my alliance to go to Traderstown and fight you. They now seem to feel that this present business is but another family spat that will sooner be done with if Tcharlz and I have only our personal troops to carry it on, and the duke has precious few after Traderstown. “Nor can he summon up the specter of ‘barbarian invasion’ to spur a muster, for—thanks in no small part to the public relations done by you and your chiefs’ when you were scouting out your proposed line of march through the duchy—the country folk know that you are men like themselves, not the bowling, unwashed savages you have so often been depicted as being.” Milo wrinkled his brows. “But how about mercenaries? Even if your own company remains loyal to you, there must be others that Duke Tcharlz can hire on.” Martuhn nodded. “Normally there’d be plenty wandering along the river valleys in search of employment, but with a full-scale war going on some days east of here, on the north bank of the Ohyoh, and a multisided civil war in Mehmfiz to the south of us, the few companies not working aren’t worth anybody’s hire. “Now Tcharlz just might get more support from his home county, but the north-south roads have never been well maintained, for strategic reasons’, so it will take them a bit of time to march up here. And, even with those, if he can raise an overall total of four hundred troops, I’ll be more than surprised.” Milo still looked worried; the lives and well-being of thousands of his clansfolk rode on his decision here.