The Marquis (30 page)

‘I have no idea – but we need a plan. Luckily we have some time. Hopefully years if she takes my advice.’

~oo0oo~

A day later, Conn farewelled Meria and headed back to Utika on the junk. By the time he arrived in the port, there was a huge crowd to meet him; the junk with the brown sails and huge yellow sun device was now well know. At the bottom of the gangplank Akelda and Renoth waited, and guided him and his entourage to the main roundhouse. The room was full of people and after the formal introduction to the assembled mass of nobility, he was invited to take his place as Steward on the main table. Conn surprised everyone by declining and in the outburst of excited chatter, he raised his hand for silence.

‘Merians of Utika. I wish to express my condolences for the loss of your Mundborak and her daughter. It was not my intention that they die in Rasadi, however that was the dice they rolled. With their death in battle, I acknowledge that the right to be Steward is mine – I can either take any available of the Blood to be my Mundborak, or by virtue of my daughter Elkilda. I however had decided to relinquish my claim; as is also my right. You must now choose who you would like to be Mundborak of Utika. Choose well.’

That of course caused a lot of discussion, claims and counter claims, but as predicted the choice was Akelda and Renoth. It may have helped that Conn spent his time solely with the pair. Later, they took their place on the main table and celebrations continued on late into the night.

  Conn returned in the morning for a more private discussion with the new leaders of Utika, and they discussed what rewards he would claim for his victory. Although miffed that he had already “stolen” Merin, Akelda had to recognize the transfer anyway, and had also to give a demesne for Elkilda as hers had “disappeared”. He chose the harbour village of Volsini, which also happened to be the closest village to Rasadi. He met with the current Mundbora and Steward and established a working relationship that would last until Elkilda was able to take the role of Mundbora.

In the days that followed he sold at auction all of the twenty theow he had gained in Merin except for the Sythans and the Larsan; but not before ensuring that he didn’t really want to keep them. Some tried very hard to entice him to keep them, but he suspected that he was going to have his hands full with three increasingly lusty Folgere. Giving them back their haligdoms had not proven to be a good idea.

After a couple of weeks in Utika, Conn boarded the junk back to Kerch. With everyone so pregnant, he wanted to get back in time to help if he was needed.

Cynilda, very, very, pregnant, greeted him at the docks as he disembarked, with the rest of his hird, and then scolded him as his introduced her to the new members.

‘Seriously? Three Sythans – Folgere no less – and a Larsan. And two more Twacuman – as well as a new daughter. How do you do it? You were only gone for the spring.’ She welcomed them all warmly – especially Hallvi and Wilric.

‘It was not my fault’ Conn protested. ‘Things just happen.’ He paused to consider. ‘Well, I guess Oselda is my fault. I could have sold her – but I had no choice about the Sythans.’

As they walked back to the roundhouse together, he observed all the modifications being undertaken in the village with the assistance of craeftiga from Meshech. In comparison to everywhere else in Sytha, the changes would be minor, albeit still significant. The craeftiga and their families had arrived with Sir Wilgar, on the armada of twenty ships; who had then returned to Meshech with timber as cargo. He was due back next spring.

Conn explained everything that had happened over the summer.

‘And you did not to get yourself killed. That would seem to have been an achievement because so many tried.’

‘What can I say – I bring out the best in people.’ He rubbed her tummy, exposed as it was beneath her choli. ‘Not so long now.’

She smiled. ‘It seems we have been waiting for your return.’

As it turned out it was only days before the two girls were happily and easily delivered; the first two of five to be born over the year – one was even a boy.

A couple of week after the births, Godhart arrived in Kerch. He had been maintaining his cover as a small trader travelling to Sinope, Utika and Merin for the last few months. He was pessimistic this time.

‘We were lucky to make it out last time. There seems to be an increasing number of Ancuman there – they seem to be gathering for some reason or other.’

‘Even in Nyssa?’

He nodded. ‘They are using whatever accommodation is available. The Steward of Nyssa is a Merian and is unhappy but seems unable to prevent Ancuman wiga coming in and taking resident in his town. They aren’t doing anything bad – just waiting.’

‘Anything too bad could cause a clan rising, and he wouldn’t want that.’ The meeting involved the troika of Kerchian leaders, the Twacuman, Conn, Godhart and Sir Njil – who had recently returned with supplies, armaments and more craeftiga from the Fellowships. This advice was from Egwahl.

‘How does one do that?’

‘A very long and tiresome process – the only one every successfully done was by the Casere and it took two years. But if the Ancuman started to devastate parts of Sinope, it wouldn’t take long at all.’

‘Anyway, we don’t want to start a war.’ Conn was contemplative. ‘But I agree, we need to do it sooner than later. Next spring might be too late given the activity of the Ancuman – and we don’t even know what they are trying to do. No, we stick to plan A enter Sinope via Nyssa at night. We just need some guidance to get into the harbour.’ He looked at Njil and the Twacuman. 

They nodded. Njil would travel to Sinope the day before Conn and get Derryth and the siblings close enough to shore that they could use a small boat to land. They would hide until Conn arrived the next night in the new moon; it would be pitch black and no one would be expecting a ship to arrive in the middle of the night. Far too dangerous.

~oo0oo~

Ten days later, Conn sat with forty wiga on a cog off the coast of Nyssa, waiting for a signal. They were in Egwahl’s cog and they were relying on his knowledge and experience in the port to get them in safely.

Egwahl was studying the horizon with the telescope. ‘Got them.’ He issued instructions and the small cog started to move slowly in the water. The breeze was ideal; strong enough to keep them moving but weak enough not to make them move too fast.

It was none the less excruciatingly slow making their way in to and then tying up on the docks. The harbour were in a small cove, and there were several ships tied up already, and they had to take care not to run into any of them; hard in the dark and certainly aided by the beacons.

As soon as the gangplank was down the small fyrd ran off, carrying backpacks. Derryth waited for them with Hallvi and she led them away to a warehouse that Egwahl had hired for his use. As a very minor trader, all Egwahl was able to secure was a berth way down the end of the docks, and some old ram-shackled buildings nearby. It suited Conn perfectly. No sooner had Conn disembarked did the cog moved out of the harbour and out to sea; guided by lights being shone by Njil.

Inside the warehouse, they regrouped, and with everyone present and accounted for they headed out of town, guided by the excellent night vision of the Twacuman, and into the forest. Luckily the village of Nyssa was reasonably spread out; with inns, warehouses and other trading facilities built in a disjointed and confused manner. The night was warm, and the sentries were not making a great effort to march far from the fires because it was so dark. It was also about three in the morning – when people are at their worst.

The Forest was dark – there being no moon – and outside of town, fields and wooded groves proliferated around the countryside; luckily forest groves were greater in number. As soon as it was light they found a safe place and hid for the day.

As they rested, Derryth reported on his finding.

‘About thirty Ancuman wiga; horses and all. They are waiting orders. Possibly in a day or two. They are also heading up the mountain.’

‘Now why would they be doing that?’

The next evening, with the farmers vacating their field, they headed out and up the mountain that separated the Tanais side from the Sinope side. By all accounts it was a steep mountain range that Conn’s information indicated was over two thousand feet about sea level at its peak. It was also never crossed; the peninsula that was Sinope was far easier to travel around the coastal roads. They were also the most guarded. After a second night using the Twacuman to guide them, it was now isolated enough to travel during the day. There was no one to see them so high up.

They rested often; mostly to preserve their energy in the heat, and not to be seen. After a day, and as they got closer to the mountain, two things started to happen; the first was that they were not having to hide from squads of Ancuman riders as they travelled along the edge of the mountain headed east. The wiga guarded groups of Pontian theow and they all carried tools.

The second thing was that Conn started to get a noise in his head. It was the sound of silence that a Cirice had when it didn’t have a haligdom.

Conn was intending to lead his men up and over the mountain but the actions of the Ancuman gave him cause to consider.

Derryth noted his hesitation.

‘We are going to plan B aren’t we?’

‘Why do the Pontians carry tools?’

Derryth took a deep breath. ‘I don’t know and neither do you… and you want to find out why.’

‘Exactly. Let’s follow them.’

Conn’s suspicions were confirmed after they were passed another group of horsemen. They didn’t have theow but they had an Ancuman Folgere in their midst.

‘I know why they are up here now.’ Conn declared.

The Twacuman looked at him, waiting. Conn continued. ‘There is a Cirice up here; and given by the number of men with shovels, I’d say it is under a mountain.’

‘Why would they dig it up; surely it is safer for them under rubble?’

‘That I don’t know. Of course, now that I know it’s here, I’d be digging it up anyway. Presumably Ashtoreth thinks I might find it and wants it destroyed before I do.’

‘What do we do?’

‘We keep following and then we watch and wait. And we attack before that Folgere gets anywhere near it.’

It was slower now because they had to circumnavigate the available paths to be able to get in a position, but finally on top of the mountain, they waited; they could see the Pontians hard at work with their shovels, pails and picks and digging into the mountain as Ancuman with whips and a Folgere with a bad mouth urged them on.

Conn waited impatiently. ‘They will rest soon. We strike then.’ He gave the order and everyone carefully moved into position.

Even the Folgere realized that the middle of the day was not a good time to be working so they called a rest and the Pontians went and huddled together eating whatever meagre ration they had. They certainly didn’t look overfed.

The excavation work were situated a valley between two high points in the mountain. In front of them the mountain climbed around five hundred feet. They had come from the right side from Tanais and if they headed down the left, it was towards Sinope. As a trained geologist, Conn could see where the mountain had collapsed on one side; a landslide – but it was hundreds of years old. The Pontians were trying to move the landslide.

‘What do you think?’ Derryth had come up to inquire. Conn had been studying the mountain for some time.

‘Remembers that someone called their Gyden Lilith of the Mountain? Well, this is the mountain. Under where they are digging is a cave and the Cirice must be there,’

He nodded. ‘Like Kadash; so it is an ancient one...’

‘Exactly, hence their desire to destroy it.’ Conn looked around. ‘Everyone ready?’

With the signal that they were Conn had his bugler sound the attack – or preparation therefore, and the sounds echoed over the mountain. The Ancuman scrambled to their feet, swords in hand, and Conn and the Twacuman walked slowly down the slope.

Their response was what Conn imagined; as soon as the Folgere saw Conn – he had deliberately left his helmet off, the Gyden saw him and even he could feel her anger. He had turned up unexpectedly again.

He screamed. ‘Attack, attack. Kill the Feorrancund! Kill the Feorrancund!’

A wise Folctoga would have withdrawn and reconsidered but they responded without real consideration and they raced towards him. A volley of arrow brought down those in front, whilst the second volley brought down the next. Common sense then prevailed, and the rest ran in search of cover, with Conn and Derryth in hot pursuit over the mountain side of several of them. As they stopped to ambush him, they quickly fell either to an arrow or Conn’s sword. Finally Conn paused; the sound of running had ceased and he knew that the Folgere was hiding in the trees two Axum wiga.

Conn called out.

‘Folgere! You are not leaving the mountain… but you could give yourself a fighting chance. You have your wonderful Gyden on your side – together you might be stronger than me…. and you may defeat me….because the day is lost … again. As for the two wiga – surrender or die.’

A voice came from behind a tree; Conn could see the end of a sword. ‘Axum do not surrender.’

‘A pointless death serves no one. Surely even you know that. And for Ashtoreth to suggest otherwise is wrong.’

The Folgere was outraged. ‘Infidel! How dare you blaspheme the beloved!  We are the only one that can speak for her – we know her words and her truth. You will die for those words!’

‘You are more than welcome to try.’

Conn had Derryth stay back as he advanced through the trees with his claymore. He ducked suddenly as a sword attempted to severe his head and rolled forward as another tried. He engaged one, driving the younger male wiga back. The elder Axum engaged as well and as Conn ducked and feigned his slash, the younger man advanced; right into the wakizashi as Conn dropped and sliced. He fell, and the older man watched him fall; rage on his face.

‘’My love! You killed my love!’ He then attacked recklessly until he also died; his hands gripping Conn’s dagger in his chest. Conn pushed him away, and retrieved his dagger and the man toppled over backwards.

With those deaths, the Folgere started to run down the hill; and Conn went in pursuit. It wasn’t long before the man was exhausted and Conn arrived empty handed with the Folgere pointing his curved sabre at him.

‘You know you will not win!’ he panted, ‘Ashtoreth will prevail’.

‘Perhaps – but at the moment I am winning and she is losing. Ask her.’ Taking his dagger from its scabbard, he pointed it at the Folgere. ‘Here is your chance for a major victory. Let’s play.’

It was clear that the Folgere had some training but his arm wasn’t the muscle that had been used most in the last ten years of his life. Conn tormented him with pain, and almost enjoyed the anguish he could feel that Ashtoreth was suffering. Finally it had to end and the Folgere over reached with his sabre and ended up impaled on the dagger, dropping his weapon. As Conn placed him on the ground, Conn reached for the necklace that held the haligdom and yanked it from around him neck.

‘You won’t need this anymore.’

He died with fear and anguish all over his face. Conn felt an unusual feeling of satisfaction and he hated himself for it. He usually took no joy in killing.

A quick search of the body to retrieve anything else of value, and Conn picked up the sabre and headed up the mountain.

‘I’ll tell someone to collect him for burial.’

Conn shook his head. ‘No, I think the wolves can have this one.’ He stopped and took a deep breath. ‘No, you are right. Have him collected and buried.’

Up on the top, there were a dozen Ancuman wiga still alive, but wounded enough not to be a risk. Conn went to work with the medics to deal with their wounds, while the Pontians were sent to work digging a shallow grave for the dead. It was only shallow because Conn was going to use the rest of their landslide to cover it up.

Conn met the leader of the Pontians at dinner time. His name was Brandur and he expressed his thanks at his rescue.

‘You are from Kapisi?’

Surprised as was to be expected, he agreed. ‘My father was a Thane – but now as you can see, I’m a common cottar.’

‘We’ll fix that.’  Conn told him about Godhart and Keowyn. He was the happiest that he had been in ages.

‘So what do you want of us?’

‘First, we need to continue what you were doing. We’ll talk later about after that.’

The next morning, with all hands on deck and a more directed approach with props and beams cut from the forest to dig a shaft directly toward the ancient cave. It was helped by Conn being able to direct them in exactly the right direction. By the sound of the ringing in his head. After two full day’s work, they had finally broken through, and eight hundred year old air greeted them.

They took their horn lanterns and entered the cave. Because of the landfall, it was quite a way in – over two hundred feet deep into the mountain. There they found the Cirice, a large internal cavern with a naked and lewd caving of Lilith – he could recognize her anywhere. There was significant damage to the room. Obviously the earthquake that had caused the landslide had caused accidents within the cirice as well – and on closer inspection of the idol, he saw that a hand and breast had been severed from the marble. Conn searched for the remains and in the dust and dirt he found it.  Although much had been destroyed, the breast, hand and blue sapphire were all still there, in large pieces.