Ravenheart (30 page)

11

C
ALL
J
ACE WAS
not a naturally pessimistic man. He had learned early that luck mostly favored the brave and the willing. He did not assume that events would always go the way he desired, but he trusted in his instincts, his intelligence, and his courage to win the day.

He had been clan chieftain of the northern Rigante for eighteen years and in that time had eased the Varlish from his borders. He had managed that feat by using a mixture of political skill and cunning allied with a daring that had at times been breathtaking. The lands of the Rigante were rugged, full of deep forests, high mountains, and treacherous passes. Any foe intent on destroying his people would have to risk losing thousands of men in a sustained war of attrition without major battles, thus depriving any enemy general of glory. Such a war, Call knew, would be immensely costly and politically ruinous. Only the king, far in the south, could call upon an army of the size needed to win a final victory.

The Moidart could not.

Call had understood this from the first. Yet when he had replaced the dying Laphrain, the Black Rigante had been in disarray. Beetlebacks patrolled their lands, Varlish businesses had been set up in the valley, and no clansman was allowed a sword or a pistol. Laphrain had been a good man, but he could not see the dangers.

Call Jace had. For the first two years he did nothing overtly to encourage the Varlish to believe he was an enemy. In secret,
however, he formed five raiding parties and sent them out to harass and rob merchant caravans to the east of Black Mountain. None of the men wore clothes that could identify them as members of his clan. They were for all intents and purposes merely outlaws. On Call’s instruction they also raided Varlish farms, stealing livestock and burning buildings. The Beetlebacks ceased to patrol Rigante lands, their time taken up trying to hunt down the raiding parties. Occasionally they succeeded, though not one clansman allowed himself to be taken alive.

In the meantime, without constant Beetleback patrols, Call began installing defenses in the high passes: stockaded walls of thick timber and solid gates of oak. With monies gained from the raids he also brought in a store of muskets and pistols.

Within four years he had bought out the Varlish businesses within the Rigante mountains and had set up several forges, ostensibly producing iron implements for farms, plows, scythes, nails, and such. But they also crafted swords and knives. Young men of the Rigante were then trained in blade skills.

Only then did Call Jace apply the first overt pressure to the ruling Varlish. The new colonel in charge of the Beetleback forces was a man named Gates. He had been sent in by an angry Moidart with orders to eliminate the outlaws. Soon after his arrival Call Jace stepped up the raids. Gates’ position was becoming untenable, and he was days away from being relieved of his duties and summoned home in disgrace. Call Jace then invited him to visit the valley, along with twenty of his men. When they arrived, Call greeted them wearing a beautifully wrought half saber with a bronze fist guard.

“Welcome to you, my friend,” Call said warmly, stepping forward and pumping the man’s hand. “It is good to see you. Come inside and relax. I have food being prepared and a fine Uisge ready for you.”

The colonel, a weary, disillusioned veteran, stared at the
sword and then into the pale eyes of the Rigante chieftain. “The law states—”

“You are the law here, Colonel Gates,” Call said swiftly, linking his arm with the colonel’s and leading him into the great house. “We will discuss it over a drink.”

Call took Gates through the central hall, where the feast fire was blazing, past the long room with its massive rectangular table surrounded by twenty chairs, and then into the private inner study. Here there were comfortable chairs set before a small fire. Call filled a silver goblet with Uisge and handed it to the officer.

“You cannot wear a sword, Master Jace,” said Gates. “It is a hanging offense for a clansman.”

“As I understand it, that law was passed against clansmen who rose against the crown twenty years ago. The Black Rigante never fought against the crown. Hell, man, the king has never even been this far north. The real concern here should be these outlaws who are terrorizing peaceful communities. They must be a real worry for you. I know how difficult it is to hunt such men in this terrain, but in the south I expect they blame you for not putting an end to the misery.”

“Aye, they do. They have no idea of the problems I face. Even so, Master Jace, the sword—”

“Do not concern yourself over such a small matter. Since you have been a good friend to the Rigante, I have decided to help you in the matter of the outlaws. I am sending out some of my own men to scout for them and protect the citizens. You cannot be expected to provide protection and hunt down criminals with a mere two hundred men. The task is impossible. My warriors will patrol the farms and the roads leading into Black Mountain while your Beetlebacks hunt down the scum responsible for the atrocities.” “Your men will patrol the communities?” “Aye. We will catch these miscreants together. Then you will receive the thanks of the Moidart. Your reputation will be restored. No more endless days and nights riding the mountains in the snow and the rain. Perhaps you will get a promotion
and return to the south. We will be sorry to lose you, but at least we will know we have a friend there.”

Colonel Gates drained his Uisge. Call refilled the goblet. “Aye, it would be good to catch some of these swine.”

“We’ll do it,” Call said soothingly.

The new policy worked well, the raids lessening dramatically.

Three weeks later the colonel was back, this time even more agitated. Once more Call took him to the study, though this time the officer refused Uisge.

“By the Sacrifice, Call, your men are
armed
. Rigante warriors have been seen carrying swords and knives.”

“How else could they protect communities from the outlaws?” asked Call. “Ask yourself this: How many raids have there been around Black Mountain since your plan came into operation? None. Are the merchants and farmers content with you? Yes, they are. Have the outlaws been driven back into the wild lands? Yes, they have. Everything you have done has been a huge success.”

“But we have caught no one, Call.”

“Your men killed five of them only last week at Col Rasson.”

“Killed, yes. None were taken alive. We thought we had one of them cornered up on Jallis Crag, but he leapt to his death rather than be taken.”

“It is only a matter of time before you catch one, Colonel. Either that or the outlaws will move on, seeking easier prey. Either way you have succeeded.”

“I don’t know, Call. One of the farmers has complained that your men have demanded tribute for the protection offered. He has, quite rightly, refused to pay. Did you know your men were doing this?”

“It is a costly business patrolling the farms. The men who do it cannot work on their own lands. But all payments are voluntary and offered freely. If the man does not want to pay, then he doesn’t have to.”

“Even so, this whole business is beginning to worry me.”

“Put your mind at rest, my friend. Soon you will be summoned back to Eldacre in triumph. Think of it. Your reputation restored, your fame acknowledged.” Gates had seemed mollified.

Then Call’s raiders had intercepted a courier carrying messages to the Moidart. Gates had written that he was convinced Call Jace himself was behind the raids and that more men were needed to “pacify the Rigante.”

Two weeks later a large band of “outlaws” ambushed the colonel and thirty of his men, killing them all. Call Jace sent an urgent message to the Moidart, explaining that violence and intimidation were getting out of hand in the area and requesting more troops to protect the citizens. His own men, he said, had hunted down the outlaws, killing fifteen of them and driving the others south. In a separate incident the farmer who had refused tribute was found with his throat cut.

The Moidart did send more troops, this time under a fierce and ruthless colonel named Rollin Baynock. Colonel Baynock summoned Call to his headquarters. The wily Rigante leader arrived without weapons.

Baynock was a stocky man, round-faced and small-eyed. His mouth was thin-lipped, and his receding chin was hidden by a bushy black beard. He was sitting at his desk when Call was ushered into his office at the barracks in Black Mountain. He did not offer the Rigante leader a chair.

“I have read the reports of my predecessor,” he said. “This arrangement of yours ceases now. All swords held by the Rigante will be surrendered within the week. Your men will no longer patrol. You understand me?”

“Of course, sir. I was merely trying to help.”

“We need no help from highlanders.”

Two days later Rollin Baynock and twelve riders failed to return from a routine patrol near the Col Rasson pass east of Black Mountain. A second patrol found their bodies in a gully. Rollin Baynock’s tongue had been torn from his mouth.

Within weeks the Beetleback force had doubled to four hundred men, but raids and murders continued.

Call Jace wrote to the Moidart, politely questioning the tactics employed by the new colonel and pointing out that at least a thousand men were needed to adequately safeguard the area. The Moidart responded by inviting Call Jace to visit him in Eldacre. Call reluctantly refused on the grounds that he had recently injured his leg and was confined to his bed.

The new colonel died in a brief fight at Rattock Creek when a volley of musket fire tore into his troops as they crossed the narrow bridge.

Once again Call wrote to the Moidart, requesting more troops while assuring him that he and his Black Rigante could far more effectively patrol the area than could forces from the south that did not have intimate knowledge of the terrain. He also offered to have his men escort the wagons carrying tax revenue on their twice-yearly journeys back to Eldacre. “It surely will not be long,” he wrote, “before these outlaw vermin realize that the wagons contain far more riches than the farms and businesses they are attacking.”

His warning proved curiously prophetic, since from that moment every tax convoy was attacked and robbed, the men guarding them killed.

Two more colonels came and went within the year. One died from a heart seizure in his office, and the other was recalled in disgrace when the second of the tax convoys was taken. Then came Colonel Lockley, an elderly man with a fine record. He rode to Call’s house with only two Beetlebacks and accepted the hospitality of the Rigante leader.

“Fine Uisge,” he said, sipping from the same silver goblet used by the murdered Colonel Gates.

“Aged in the cask,” Call told him.

Lockley had deep-set quiet eyes that masked a fierce intelligence. The conversation that followed was coded. Call knew that Lockley was almost certainly aware of his involvement in the raids. “The Moidart has graciously allowed me to see your correspondence over the years,” he said. “You have proved remarkably astute in predicting the outrages of the outlaws.”

“Sadly, that is true,” agreed Call. “It hurts me that my advice has not been heeded.”

Lockley gave a thin smile. “The north has become a major drain on the resources of Eldacre. It seems to me there are two choices. Either we bring up an army with cannon and utterly destroy the enemy or we find a way to resolve the situation without such … expense. I would prefer the latter.”

“As would we all,” said Call. “My view has always been that having my men patrol the area would take away the need for large forces being deployed and also allow greater effectiveness for the troops under your command. They could then be used where most valuable, scouring the wild lands for brigands and thieves.”

Lockley eased himself back into the deep leather chair, pushing out his booted feet toward the fire. “Which would, of course, involve armed Rigante.”

“Of course. How else would they fight outlaws?”

“Indeed so,” said Lockley. “This idea was employed by one of my predecessors and worked to great advantage. Attacks were few, the tax revenues got through, and the community was content.”