Rally Cry (11 page)

"Nothing but a little bluff work now, Hans. The weapons have them half scared already. Just relax and I'll be out shortly."

"Take care, colonel," Hans said, and to Andrew's surprise the sergeant reached up and patted him lightly on the arm.

Andrew could not help but smile at this momentary break with formality, something he had not seen since Hans found him in the hospital at
Gettysburg and the old soldier had burst into tears at the sight of him.

"All right, Kal, let's get this over with."

He bowed again to Tanya, and as he did so he could not help but notice the beauty of the girl, and the proud look of her father that Andrew had shown such formality to one of his class.

"They're in there meeting with him right now," Mikhail said coldly, the disgust in his voice obvious.

"Ah, my son, so that disturbs you."

"It is an evil," Mikhail replied, looking straight into the prelate's eyes.

"But of course," and as he spoke Rasnar beckoned to his personal secretary to pour some tea.

"Well done, Casmar," Rasnar said, waving for the priest to withdraw.

"It is good to know that there are loyal members to the holy church such as yourself, Mikhail," and as he spoke he made a sign of blessing over the bearlike warrior and beckoned for him to take a seat.

"It is good you came and talked to me over these last several days," Rasnar continued smoothly, sitting down beside Mikhail. "I can see why you are distressed by this foolish decision of your brother to make a peaceful agreement with the blue devils."

"There are others who feel as I," Mikhail growled. "My brother is a madman. Even if the devils are humans, they are foreigners, and thus suspect. They even make the holy sign of blessing backward and thus mock you and our holy church, yet still Ivor will deal with them."

"Abomination," Rasnar replied smoothly.

"Since Ivor received that demonic gift to cure his weak eyes he has been bewitched by them."

"Perhaps he has been driven mad by the gift," Rasnar said softly.

Rasnar fixed the warrior with his gaze. Of course, he knew that each of them was playing a game with the other. As an illegitimate brother to Ivor, Mikhail had no direct hope to the throne of the arch boyar—as long as his brother lived, that is. And of course the appearances in his chambers over the last several days were an open bid for support.

"You realize," Rasnar said quietly, "that I have often wished that things had been somewhat different."

"And how is that?" Mikhail asked cautiously.

"Just that I have always wished that your father had brought your mother to the altar rather than Ivor's," the prelate said evenly.

"My brother should be the bastard," Mikhail growled darkly. "That fat damned weak-eyed fool. I should be the boyar of Suzdal, dammit—I should be the one!" As he spoke he pounded the table with his fists.

"Exactly as I've often thought and wished," Rasnar replied.

And of course you would be far more pliable, the priest thought, still smiling in an understanding way.

"You know, of course," Rasnar said, "that holy church would view a change with the utmost understanding and would speak well of it from the pulpit. If the bluecoat leader should fall, I daresay his fellow demons would quickly be defeated,
then
their weapons would be properly stored away in the hands of the church where they rightfully belong."

Mikhail looked darkly at Rasnar.

"But the church would be willing to give several such devices to its most loyal servants," Rasnar added dryly, and Mikhail smiled.

"It is time for my morning prayers," and the tone of his voice was one of dismissal. "But know, my
friend, that
your loyalty to holy church will bring you blessings."

With a bow Mikhail turned and started for the door.

"I will remember your name in my mass this morning, but act quickly, my friend, for such a chance to have then-leader away from protection might not come again," Rasnar said, and the warrior turned, looking back at the prelate with a crafty smile.

The door closed, Rasnar could not help but chuckle. So the brother was willing to knife brother over this issue. He had none of the guile of Ivor. Most likely his pride had been wounded by the encounter on the road and the incident over the glasses, and now it could only be salvaged through destruction. He had planted the suggestion of Mikhail being the translator, but that damned peasant had ruined that idea as well. Mikhail never was one to understand diplomacy; he could well imagine what he and his confederates were planning to do at this very moment.

The father of Mikhail and Ivor had led the
boyars
revolt against the church power, stripping its direct right to the tithe of the peasants and declaring that the boyar of Suzdal was the supreme ruler of the church.

It was time to wrestle that control back, and perhaps the bluecoats could be the catalyst. Mikhail would be most pliable
indeed,
and when there was no longer a need an accident could be arranged and then the church would rule and nobles would answer, as it had once been.

"Casmar!"

The door opened and the young priest entered, bowing low.

"Order up a mount and courier.
I might have orders to go out to the prelates of the other cities within the hour."

"I want them to swear full allegiance to me alone," Ivor said evenly, "to serve as my guard in time of war, to enforce my rules in time of peace. Tell them that."

Kal turned away from his lord and looked across at Andrew.

"Ivor
says,
peace between you and him. You help him and he
help
you in return."

Andrew nodded sagely, putting on a display of profound thinking. In spite of the rifles and artillery he knew the Suzdalians had the advantage. If need be they could simply starve them out, or just swarm over them, using their thousands of peasants in wave attacks. They needed time to repair the ship and gain their bearings. If at a later date things got too uncomfortable, they could always pack up and leave for some other place. He had to come to some sort of an agreement, even if it meant serving this nobleman for now.

"It sounds as if it might be acceptable, but there must be guarantees."

Kal looked back at Ivor.

"He begs to accept."

Ivor grunted an assertion.

Andrew leaned over to Emit, and regardless of the issue of politeness he started to whisper.

"Do you somehow sense this Kal isn't quite translating straight?"

"Son, he's had only six days to learn what he has—don't push the man."

"Still," Andrew said, "I think that peasant is smarter than the entire lot of them, maybe sharper than all of us as well. I wouldn't be surprised if for every word he acknowledges knowing he's picked up ten on the side."

"What is it that those two are whispering about?" Ivor asked, looking at his two guests with a jaundiced eye.

"My lord wishes to know if you will accept his offer as stated," Kal said, looking back at Andrew.

Andrew sat silent, fixing Ivor with his gaze.

"We shall want our own land, on the river, between the sea and this city. If we wish to leave, we must be free to do so."

Kal listened carefully to what was being said. He thought he understood correctly the part about the land. How was he going to get past this one? So far he'd played it off successfully, letting each side hear what he
wanted,
speaking in a gray area and making each think that the other was eager for an understanding.

But the land issue would be tough. No one demanded land of a boyar, it was given. He knew as well that the bluecoats wished to stay together and to live alone while Ivor wanted them separated and scattered.

Kal looked over at Ivor.

"They are eager to be your vassals."

He hoped that Ivor would make some concession for that.

"Then tell them that they will be broken into small groups and assigned to serve under my border watchers."

Kal gulped, for there was no way he could get around this arrangement.

In the background, Kal heard a muffled shout, and the unmistakable sound of steel striking steel.

Ivor, ever the warrior, reacted in an instant. Kicking back from the table, he swung out his two-handed sword and raced for the door.

Barely had he reached it when the low rounded portal smashed in on its hinges. Kal, knowing what was coming, dived under the table and scurried for the far corner of the room.

Dance with the wolves and get bitten if the music stops, he thought ruefully.

"Mikhail, you bastard!"
Ivor roared.

Ivor fought desperately to hold the door but gave back before the crush. As Mikhail cleared the doorway, swinging his two-handed ax low, other warriors piled in after him.

There was a thunderous explosion. Startled, Kal looked up to see Andrew holding a short metal tube, with smoke powering out.

There was a moment of stunned silence as all turned to face Andrew. The man next to Mikhail crumpled to the ground, blood pouring from his mouth.

"Those who die killing demons go to paradise," Mikhail roared.

With a wild shout his cohorts poured into the room after him.

"Ivor, to me!"
Andrew shouted. The boyar, still trading blows with his brother, looked back to the bluecoat. Realizing that he was about to be surrounded by men pressing in to either side, Ivor broke off and rushed back to the far corner of the room, where Andrew and Emil stood back to back.

There was another roar, and another, and two more warriors were pitched to the ground, the one next to Mikhail spraying those about him with a shower of blood and brains.

"Emil, take the gun!" And tossing the revolver to the doctor, Andrew unsheathed his blade and pressed up to Ivor's side. A warrior, nerving himself, rushed in on Andrew, battle-ax raised high. Turning, Andrew jumped aside,
and with raised point drove his weapons into his opponent's throat. The pistol barked again, knocking another man over.

"Two rounds! Hold them!" Andrew shouted.

"For what, damn it?" Emil cried, and the pistol barked again, bowling over a man coming straight at him with lowered spear.

Screaming with rage, Ivor cut at his brother, who warily kept to the side of the room, putting Emil between himself and his attacker.

The pistol exploded again, bowling over a man who had leaped atop the table with a crossbow. The weapon snapped off as he pitched over, driving the dart into the ceiling.

"Goddammit!"
Emil roared, hurling the now empty revolver at the next warrior approaching him. The warrior went down, a chair shattering across his back. Kal stood up, holding the broken back of the chair, and reached down and scooped up the empty revolver.

Closing his eyes, he squeezed the trigger as another warrior closed in. The weapon clicked on an empty chamber, but the warrior it was pointed at stopped dead in his tracks anyhow, his face pale with fear.

"The magic is gone!" Mikhail shouted. "Finish them!"

There was a moment of silence as if both sides were somehow taking measure of the other. Warily, another warrior closed in on Andrew, who, not waiting for the
attack,
leaped forward, catching the man in the face, driving his blade through bone and muscle. His victim fell back, screaming.

Suddenly there was an echo of gunfire from out in the hallway.

"Hans, in here!"
Andrew roared.

A volley of musketry tore down the hallway. There was a wild explosion of action as the warriors still pressing into the room turned to face their new foe.

"Present, fire!"
Another volley echoed out, and the attackers, with wild shouts of panic, broke and poured out of the room. Mikhail, shouting with rage, made one last blow toward Ivor and, turning, fled from the room, Ivor storming after him.

Andrew, running after the boyar, slammed him up against the wall.

"My men will shoot you!" Andrew screamed.

Ivor, his face contorted with rage, started to turn on Andrew, but Kal rushed forward, shouting an explanation.

"Colonel!"

"In here, Hans."

Pointing his carbine at chest level, Hans pushed his way into the room. When he saw Andrew a slight smile crossed his lips.

"A little fun in here, I see," he said grimly, poking one of the bodies with the toe of his boot.

Hans stuck his head back out the door.

"Well done, boys. Let the others chase the dogs down." He came back into the room.

Andrew patted the sergeant on the shoulder.

"Saw about thirty of these heathens stroll into the palace looking rather grim, so I thought it'd be best for me and some of the boys to kind of follow behind just to make sure everything was all right," Hans said softly, looking about the smoke-filled room.