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“You are dead certain then, Martuhn, that you can hold this place and protect those cables’ with the small number of troops you have?” “I am certain I can hold the citadel, Milo. I once held one just like it for over two years… and with a garrison of mostly untrained peasant pikemen. But so far as protecting the cables goes, well, I am critically short of seasoned bow-men, and, frankly, I’d expected to borrow a couple of hundred from you.” Milo compressed his lips and pinched his chin between thumb and forefinger for a moment, then raised his head and nodded briskly. “All right, two hundred archers; they’re yours. I’ll start them over as soon as I get back. However, with the possibility of hand-to-hand fighting to hold our landfall, I can’t deprive the tribe of any of its warriors. Far too many of them were lost in the battles across the river, as it is. Ill send you two hundred maiden archers—unmarried women of between fourteen and sixteen years; they’ll all be experts with either bow or sling, and fully war-trained, too, if push comes to shoving spears or swinging honed steel.

“Will female archers be acceptable?”

“If you don’t mind some of them coming back pregnant,” grinned Martuhn. “Most of my men are unmarried, too, and so far as I know, none of them are celibate, by inclination at least.”

Milo returned the grin. “As you’ve learned, Horseclanfolk are most uninhibited; none of those two hundred will be a sheltered virgin, of that you may be assured. So yours should be a happy garrison for however long the siege lasts.” And it had been as Martuhn had predicted. By the time Duke Tcharlz had realized that the nobles, gentry and farmers of the more northerly portions had no intention of responding in any numbers, by the time that some less than two hundred foot and horse had marched up from the south, thousands of the nomads were already within the confines of his duchy and their warriors could even be seen on the hills west of Pirates’ Folly. Nonetheless, being a stubborn man, he set out for Twocityport with his pitifully tiny force. Milo had ordered that none be slain unless necessary, and none were. Almost all the force finally made it to their set objective… afoot, which was the way that they had made most of the journey. On the second night out from Pirates’ Folly, a dozen of the great prairiecats had infiltrated the sentry patrols and stampeded the horses and mules. And each time more beasts were obtained from the free farmers and country gentry in any meaningful numbers, the same thing occurred despite stringent safeguards.

For this reason, among many others, Duke Tcharlz was in a mood of exceeding foulness as he paced the horse he had borrowed from the upper city across the cleared area to a spot just opposite the gate on the far bank of the moat Raising the faceguard of his helmet, he roared, “Martuhn, lower the goddam bridge! I’ve got to talk to you.”

Once again seated in the captain’s grim little ground-floor office, Tcharlz pulled off helmet and padded coif, ran the fingers of both hands through his short-cropped hair and whuffed a few times, then drained off the large flagon of beer his “host” had provided.

“Martuhn, you disobeyed me. I told you the nomads were not to cross over here, and you let them anyway. Nobody obeys me anymore around this duchy! I called for a general muster and the only troops that ever showed up were this piss-poor lot from my home county. And no sooner were they on the march with me than those big panthers of the nomads drove off every head of riding stock. “I should be furious with you to the point of murder… and I am in a way. But, too, I’ve been tumbling an idea around in my old head and now it’s smoothed off into a sure-fire plan.

“How do you think this nomad war chief would react to an outright gift from me to him of Traderstown to be a nomad duchy? In return, I would want some thousands of his warriors to add to my army… but for a very special purpose, mind you; they’re little use for set warfare.

“As you know, for years, I’ve wanted to expand east along the Ohyoh, but other matters have always cropped up to take the gold that I’d need for enough troops to succeed. So what well do is turn those thousands of savages loose on the Duchy of Maryuhnburk and, when they’ve bled the bastards white, I’ll magnanimously offer my assistance to that young whippersnapper of a duke, Frehdrik. Once that duchy is safely annexed, we can do the same thing to another of our dear neighbors. I’ll be a king yet, Martuhn!” Martuhn sighed, knowing in advance that the duke was not going to like all that he now had to say. “Your grace, yes, I disobeyed you, and you know why. In that honor which you deride I could do none else. But also, you had dissolved our contract, so I truly owed you no service of any kind. “So far as your granting ownership of Traderstown to the Horseclansmen is concerned, I think me that Milo of Morai and the other chiefs would laugh you out of their camp should you make that offer. They already hold that entire duchy by right of arms, and I doubt not that they could continue to hold it in the same way… if they wanted lands and city. But they want neither, your grace. Nor will they ever serve you as mercenaries in your never-ending schemes to see a crown set upon your head.” “Then they must not be allowed a free passage over my… over our lands, my son, and you must join with me to halt them. If we both call for a general muster, I’ve no doubt but that our people will arise. Considering what seems to be their line of march, the best place to stop the savages would be—“ Martuhn shook his head slowly. “No, your grace, I shall never serve you or this duchy again for any consideration or amount. Immediately the last of the tribe and their herds are across the river, I shall quit this citadel with all my company. We will then trek eastward with the tribe until opportunity presents itself. There is always a market somewhere for good fighting men, especially for a company of veterans.”

Tcharlz snarled, “Then don’t look to me for letters of reference, you whoreson blackguard! Ill damn you the length of both rivers as a forsworn would-be usurper, see if I don’t. And I’ll stop these goddam unwashed swarms of barbarians myself.”

Martuhn realized that he should have held his piece, but he asked gently, “And how will you do that, your grace? The only reason you arrived here at all was that I asked Milo to order that you and your men be spared, if possible.” The duke arose, his face empurpled, his eyes bulging. For a moment he could only splutter, such was his rage. Then he burst out, “And what gave you the right to beg a stinking, murdering nomad for my life? Better to have let them do your dirty work for certain this time around. They could’ve brought you my severed head as warranty of a job well done. Then you could have named yourself duke without any opposition.”

“Dammit, your grace,” snapped Mahrtuhn in clear exasperation, “how many times must I tell you that I do not want your damned duchy, ere you believe me?” “How can I believe a clear lie?” snapped Tcharlz in quick retort, adding somewhat bitterly, “For the duchy is yours even now in all save name. Why even in my own home county, the only fighters who answered my summons this time were my own relatives of various degrees of kinship and a few old comrades of days long gone.