Chapter 31
The death of Etron and the subsequent death of his killer was like the start of a fever in the City. The mutual disdain with which the High Guards and the Mathidrin had treated one another slipped easily into almost open warfare.
The more decorative and ornamental Guards were easy prey for the Mathidrin. Outraged by the abuse and scorn levelled at them loudly and publicly, they would eventually respond with some form of ineffectual violence and finish up being soundly trounced for their pains. Beatings and woundings grew daily.
The older Guards, and those whose Lords kept to the old traditions, were, in general, less abused and more able to handle such abuse as did come their way. However, they took the hurts deeply, and slowly and inexorably the Mathidrin found their swaggering domination of the City being resisted by a quiet and grim opposition. The more experienced Guards might be difficult to provoke into street brawling, but they began to ensure that no insult to their own went unanswered.
Apart from the avenging of Etron’s death, their reprisals were almost good-humoured, and offending Mathidrin were found wandering in conspicuously public places bound and trouserless, or covered in paint or horse manure, or otherwise bizarrely decorated.
This interlude, however, passed all too quickly, and soon there accumulated a bloody, if covert, record of wounding for wounding and, eventually, killing for killing. The Mathidrin soon found how to provoke the High Guards into open and public combat. They turned their attentions increasingly to the citizens of Vakloss. Anyone who failed to step aside quickly enough, or who did not have a sufficiently respectful look on their face, or who happened to be conveniently available, was liable to be roughly handled, and anyone who offered any protest or resistance would be severely beaten.
Shopkeepers and stallholders had their goods ‘commandeered’ and could look to have more taken, or their premises wrecked if they demurred. Fear began to spread through the streets of the City and the roads of the countryside like a fen mist-dank and evil-smelling.
Many of the Lords, frustrated by their own impo-tence, acquiesced in the silent vendettas being pursued by their Guards, but it took no great military experience to smell an organized ambush in the new tactics adopted by the Mathidrin.
‘Chew on your sword hilt.’ The order went out from Lord right down to cadet in troop after troop. The hope being that no response would cause the Mathidrin to abandon this strategy. All knew that it was only a faint hope and soon a certain fatalism began to possess the Lords as, rather than ceasing their actions, the Mathidrin increased them.
The Lords appealed to Dan-Tor and again he faced them individually and plied them with inconsistencies. ‘I’ll look into what you’ve reported, but there’s so much conflicting evidence. The Mathidrin have hard and unpleasant tasks to perform at times, rooting out disaffection and even treachery. They suffer a great deal of abuse and provocation from the people and they may well make mistakes from time to time, but… ’ a small gesture of admonition, ‘… they don’t always get the co-operation from your Guards that they might expect.’ Then a dismissive gesture of tolerant understanding. ‘However, I appreciate your men may be finding it difficult to adjust to their new roles. Soldiers are usually strong in pride.’
When pressed, he would grow stern, or perhaps confidential, with an affectionate arm placed around the shoulder. ‘I fear that difficult times lie ahead of us all. You must understand, there are forces at work that seek our very destruction.’ Then the well-established threat would seep into the edges of his reply. ‘These enemies are both without and within. More will become clear at the accounting of the Lord Eldric and his co-conspirators but, rest assured, there are more guilty parties than the four we have and I want none to escape because the Mathidrin are occupied dealing with the petty rivalries of the Guards.’
Thus the Mathidrin excesses continued and wors-ened, and the Lords’ faint hope fluttered out in the terrible winds that started to blow. From cadet right up to Lord came the message. ‘Lord, we can suffer our own humiliation, but the innocent are being trampled. We can no longer stand by.’ The Lords’ fatalism turned to black hopelessness-Dan-Tor’s subtle poisons took their toll and growing suspicion and doubt bound them with unseen shackles.
The High Guards, however, were not privy to such corrosive doubts, nor overly interested in the niceties of the Law. What was happening was manifestly wrong. Their Lords might not be able to act, but it was the sworn duty of the Guards to defend the people of Fyorlund.
So the citizens of Vakloss began to see an increasing number of High Guards casually patrolling their streets. The immediate significance of this did not become apparent until tales began to spread of Mathidrin being subjected to the treatment they themselves had been meting out. The clandestine war broke out openly and in earnest. Initially, clinging to a shred of their Lords’ will, the Guards used staves instead of swords but, with the inevitable action and reaction of violence, these were soon discarded and the distinctive sound of sword on sword began to ring through the streets with increasing frequency.
While the Mathidrin were superior in numbers and, as individuals, temperamentally inclined towards bullying and street brawling, the High Guards were better disciplined and better led, and invariably put their black-clad opponents to flight.
For a little while the streets became safe again as the Mathidrin retreated to lick their wounds. But, as if motivated by a sterner resolve than was apparent in their actual fighting, they reappeared in larger and more malevolently inclined groups.
Again their victims were the ordinary citizens of Vakloss whom they now actively terrorized. Again the High Guards responded, but casualties were mounting and the superior numbers of the Mathidrin began to tell.
‘They’ll wear us down,’ became the view of the High Guards organizing the resistance. ‘There are just too many of them.’
Opinions were divided. Some were for continuing as at present, modifying their tactics to swift running attacks and ambush; others wanted to use their horses to make up for their smaller numbers. Others wanted to, ‘String our bows. Thin them out at a distance. They’re not fit to meet sword to sword anyway’. A faint murmur even began of a large decisive strike against the Mathidrin barracks and a confrontation with Dan-Tor, or even the King.
That was beyond the pale, and such talk was squashed with some vigour. But the words had been spoken and were not without tactical relevance. The older heads realized that what had begun as punishment patrols, justifiable, albeit of dubious legality, were, with talk of cavalry tactics and bowmen, sliding tragically close to becoming a major conflict and armed defiance of the King. The Lords would not be able to turn their gaze away from that. And yet, what else could be done? The more astute detected a pattern behind the Mathidrin’s behaviour. It was intended to provoke just this impasse. Death by attrition, or destruction through open rebellion. And it was working. Working very well.
The doubts among the officers led inevitably to indecision and a consequent fall in morale amongst the High Guards as their casualties grew and no effective response was ordered. Gradually the streets returned to the Mathidrin, now raucous in their triumph. But their laughter was as strained as it was harsh, and their arbitrary mistreatment of the people lessened as they too felt the atmosphere of the City becoming tense and heavy, full of foreboding, as though a storm were brewing, a storm waiting for that last tiny speck of moisture-laden dust to release the unrestrained fury of its accumulated power.
Dan-Tor stood on a high balcony and looked out over the City. He smiled to himself. True, he was disappointed in Urssain’s failure to obtain reliable information from within the High Guards. Their loyalties had proved remarkably resistant to his lures. But then, he shrugged, this was of no great significance. The High Guards’ very loyalty told him all he needed to know about them and how best to handle them. A little detailed information from time to time would have spared Urssain some losses and morale problems, but they were unimportant. Besides, his apparently ready forgiveness of tactical failures by Urssain was another small tie to bind the man with.