The Marquis (7 page)

Conn returned the welcome. ‘Mungan, I see you made it.’

He smiled. ‘I did but I arrived late and found myself in charge of transportation. I told them my tale of my sister, and cattle, being stolen by ruffians from Subari led by my old friend Wystan, and Sumy began to doubt my loyalty so put me in charge of getting everything up here.’

Besywan looked at Mungan in confusion. ‘You have met this man before? You only mentioned Wystan. Why did you not warn us?’

He shrugged. ‘I told you not to believe a word of what Agkell said. If he didn’t tell you that Wystan was being supported by a mercenary called the Earl of Rakia, from some place called Meshech, and that he was aided by a Twacuman, why should I? Agkell even knew of his exploits in this place called Meshech. I would have called him a liar and found myself in a dungeon. I prefer where I am, thank you.’

Stymied, Besywan looked back at Conn and then at Wystan and then at Geirnarr, as the Ancuman sat almost bemused, in the corner of the room. Besywan took a deep breath. ‘And the Ancuman have surrendered?’

Geirnarr shrugged. ‘A negotiated tactical retreat is my preferred choice of words.’

Conn agreed. ‘Indeed. And now that Mungan is here, I am entrusting him to escort you back to Samriak and to supervise your departure. You will of course not leave until I have arrived.’

‘I understand.’

‘I don’t.’ Besywan wanted to exert some authority. He said it forcefully. ‘You have no right…’ His sentence was cut short by an arrow that suddenly appeared in front of his eyes. The tail still wagged as the head was imbedded into the central pole of the tent. Besywan went white.

Conn looked approvingly at Derryth as he returned his bow to his side. ‘Impressive.’

‘Well, I didn’t have a lot of room…’ They both then looked back at Besywan as he regained his composure.

Conn gestured politely. ‘You were saying…’

The Marquis bowed, He was still shaking a little from the rush of adrenalin. ‘I apologize. I misspoke. Eaorl, I presume that you act with the authority of our new Wealdend…’

‘Indeed I am – but even if I didn’t I would expect you to do as I say. By the way, it is Marquis now. Thanks to the Wealdend, I’m now the Marquis of Subari – as well Marquis of Rila in Sytha.’

‘SUBARI, you can’t…’ he stopped and looked quickly at Derryth who had moved his hand to his bow. Defeated again, he continued. ‘Very well,
Marquis
, what is that you want me to do?’

‘I want you to do what you should do in this situation; ensure that all the dead are buried, help the wounded and continue on as usual. The Wealdend and I will return in the morning to discuss what happens after that. I will also send a medic to check that your medics are doing what they should.’

Besywan shook his head. ‘Our medics will be more than adequate, thank you.’

‘Let me be the judge of that.’

Besywan insisted. ‘We do not need your medics!’

Wystan interrupted. It was the first time he had said anything. ‘Besywan, don’t be a fool. Subari’s medics are the best I have ever seen.’ Wystan speaking was obviously unexpected, and it was confirmed by the look of contempt on Besywan’s face.

‘Wystan, I have not given you leave to speak to me…’ What happened to him next surprised everyone; and him most of all. Conn had moved quicker than anyone expected and before he knew what had happened Besywan found himself flying through the air and landing on his back. Winded, and struggling for air, the elder noble looked up to see Conn’s katana, inches from his face.

Conn’s voice was steel cold. ‘Next time you speak to anyone under my command in that manner, I will use this sword to separate your gonads from your body. Major Wystan is a senior officer in my fyrd. As your forces are defeated, at this moment, he outranks you. Have I made myself clear?’

Under the sword, Besywan nodded, his face white in fear. ‘Perfectly…’ he stuttered.

Conn turned and looked at the rest of them as Besywan struggled to his feet. ‘I will return in the morning with Efilda. I will see you all here then. I hope to see better manners next time.’

Conn went outside and joined the Cataphracts and they rode back up the pass and down into their camp. Dagrun was bound and gagged sitting on a horse. Everywhere men were at work repairing the damage of the battle or digging graves for the dead. Brys advised that their losses were small but every loss was significant in Conn’s mind. There were many more wounded. They were being treated by his medics.

Outside the main tent, they were met by Efilda. She seemed happy to see them alive but concerned still.

‘So is Dagrun dead?’

‘No.’ Conn pointed to the man gagged on a horse behind him. ‘We found him hiding behind several wiga. They were happy to give him up.’

Efilda laughed, as they watched him removed from the horse and carted inside the tent; ‘He never was of stern heart. I’m not surprised his own Ancuman wiga despised him.’ She looked at Conn seriously. ‘It would have been much easier if he had died.’

Conn agreed. ‘We have a plan.’

Derryth nodded. ‘A good one too. I’m going to make arrangements.’

Suddenly serious, she looked at them both. ‘You are not going to murder him, are you?’

Both shook their heads. ‘Nothing terminal.’

They went inside and Dagrun was still irate. Ungagged he yelled at his sister when he saw her. ‘Sister, what is the meaning of this outrage – how could you set these… these … barbarians against your own people?’

Efilda slapped him. He reeled back and made to retaliate but saw Conn step forward.

The Wealdend in waiting was livid. ‘How dare you accuse me of setting barbarians against my own people? Your “barbarians” murdered your brother and my daughter – my beautiful daughter…’ She turned away to hide the tears in her eyes.

Dagrun continued unabated. He pointed to Conn. ‘Tell him to let me go immediately – I am your Healdend.’

She turned back to look at him and shook her head. ‘You are not my Healdend – not since you sent assassins to kill my family.’

He looked down, momentarily embarrassed. ‘It was not of my doing – I had nothing to do with that. I had no idea that was going to happen like it did.’ He looked up. ‘Although I am sorry, it matters not – I am still rightful ruler of all Samria. Release me immediately! You have no right to treat me like this!’

There was no reasoning with him so Conn had him gagged, and dragged away to a tent where he was to be kept under guard. Derryth returned and looked at Conn, nodding.

Efilda was concerned again. ‘He is not to be killed… I cannot condone that even if I do not forgive him for what he allowed to happen.’

Conn assured her that he would not be harmed, and as he walked with Derryth out of the tent.

‘A midnight escape attempt, you say?’

Derryth nodded. ‘And he didn’t see the cliff…’

‘And fell into the river...very sad…’

‘Must have drowned because there is no body…’

‘And out of respect, we looked.’ Conn nodded. ‘I think we can make that work.’

~oo0oo~

Being so high up the mountain, the snow melt was feeding into fast streams. The stream that passed close to their village led into the river that entered the sea close to the town of Subari. As it turned out, the tent that Dagrun was being held in was nearest the bank; and there were no buildings between his and the water’s edge.

It was late at night when the alarm was raised that Dagrun had escaped his tent and wiga went in search of him, including inside the hospital where the Ancuman wiga were being held. Later, conflicting reports of witnesses seeing him climbing the banks of the stream or swimming down the stream were circulated, as well as reports of him falling into the river.

In the morning, additional troops went to look for the missing Healdend, with instructions to follow the river all the way to the sea. By midmorning, however, rumours of his demise were circulated, including messages sent to the waiting Marquis of Samria that they were delayed because the Healdend had escaped.

When they finally arrived to meet with the Samrian Marquis, it was late morning. The Wealdend’s entourage included all the Ancuman prisoners they had; some able to walk and some on horseback, albeit not their own. Brys handed them over to Mungan and Geirnarr, with instructions to leave the next morning for the arduous march back to the town of Samria. It would take weeks.

Inside the tent the Eaorl waited and when Efilda arrived, they greeted her warmly. She was after all related to them all. When she got to Mungan, she told him that his sister was fine. She then turned serious, and spoke louder, so that everyone could hear. ‘Marquis, in respect to your sister’s reputation, I had little choice but to make her bedda to Wystan – without your consent… I apologize… but it seemed the right thing to do under the circumstances.’

He nodded knowingly. ‘I understand and respect that you did what you thought was right…’

They both turned and faced the collected nobility of Samria. Conn thought he would do his speech first.

‘Gentlemen. All very simple. My deal with Efilda is that I give her demesne of Samria and she gives me Subari. We are half way there. If you all make your pledge of allegiance or loyalty or whatever it is you do here in Samria that makes Efilda Wealdend then we can all be friends …’

As expected, Besywan, Marquis of Sumy stepped forward. ‘As grateful as we are for the removal of the Ancuman from Samria, it is not possible for us to do that here and now – that is a decision of the Witan looking at all candidates and… and … we have never had a Wealdend before. There are other of the male line who should be considered. It is simply not a decision that you – an outsider – can impose upon us.’

Efilda looked at Conn. ‘He’s my cousin of my father’s line.’

Conn nodded as ruefully as he could and turned and looked at Derryth and Brys and they nodded and left the tent. The tension in the room went up immediately. Even Besywan was concerned.

‘What just happened?’

Conn went to leave but turned back. ‘As I said, I agreed to make Efilda Wealdend. If she cannot be Wealdend, then my agreement is null and void and my fyrd will now be at war with Samria. I will then make myself a Healdend painted in the blood of every Marquis who does not pay for his life with the freedom of his children and every gold coin in his demesne. Gentlemen, I will give you a day’s grace before my men will start their advance. May the Gyden be with you… because you are going to need it. In case you haven’t noticed, I now have four hundred cavalry.’

He turned to go again. Besywan called out loudest amongst the clamour of voices. ‘Marquis… Marquis… let us not be hasty…’

Conn turned back.

Besywan continued. ‘That is not to say that we CAN’T have a Wealdend – it is just that we never have had one until now. And of course, cousin Efilda as eldest daughter of Beohart is of course a primary candidate and will receive every opportunity to be selected…’

Conn interrupted him by turning to leave again.

‘Wait… wait…Marquis, please. Let me confer with my fellow members of the Witan. Not all but a majority are here today. Will you give us an hour?’

He shook his head. ‘No. You have ten minutes.’

He was about to protest again but thought better of it. Conn continued. ‘I’ll wait outside.’

Outside he joined Brys and Derryth, who handed him a cup of hot coffee.

Derryth had a cheeky grin on his face. ‘You are a devious man. I’m going to remember what you said: “A Healdend painted in the blood of every Marquis who does not pay for his life with the freedom of his children”. It will be a bedtime story for my grandchildren to tell them about the evil ways of the Priecuman.’

‘You will tell them that I didn’t do it, won’t you?’

He smiled again. ‘Maybe, maybe not.’

As was to be expected, the Marquises of Samria soon agreed and went through a temporary but binding procedure to confirm Efilda as Wealdend of Samria. The next day Mungan left with all the Ancuman wiga, closely followed by Wystan and a battalion of wiga that he had cobbled together from the three companies he had trained in Subari, and three companies compiled from remnants of the Border Patrol. With his battalion in tow, Wystan left to take control of security in Samriak and prepare for the Wealdend’s arrival.

Before his departure, Conn held a ceremony where he pinned on the second star to indicate Wystan’s promotion to Colonel. He also awarded him a Gold Cross for bravery, and Sythan Service Medal for which he would get two clasps. There were many more who were awarded medals – including those that received a Bronze Star for Courage, having been wounded or killed on the battlefield.

The ceremony over, Brys took a thousand wiga back to Samriak while Conn kept the 1
st
Hama Battalion with him; now comprised of four hundred cavalry – along with an additional two hundred pack horses – thanks to the four hundred horses donated by the Ancuman.

The rest of the Samrian fyrd dissipated slowly over the next few days. Finally there was no one left but Conn, his cavalry, and the Wealdend of Samria, who Conn had suggested stay with him rather than go ahead with Wystan as he wasn’t yet totally convinced of her safety. Conn was in no hurry to depart; he wanted to allow Brys at least seven days to ensure that the town was safe for the Wealdend. While he waited, he investigated the countryside; especially those parts that belonged to him as Marquis.

A river divided his demesne and Sumy and as he followed it down to the sea he came to a very large natural harbour; unused, it surrounded by vast forests of trees and a lot of flat land before it eased it way up to the mountains.

It faced east, out into the vast bay. All the maps that he consulted on Sytha, indicate that Meria, although reportedly uncivilized, was reasonably close on the eastern side and to the north was Larsa. If relationships could be restored, this particular spot was ideally situated to become the hub of a trading network.

‘I think I’ll call it Caledonia.’ Conn was speaking out aloud.

‘Call what Caledonia?’

‘Here – this harbour.’

‘Why?’

‘I’m going to build a new town with a great port right here.’

‘And how are you going to do that?’

‘I don’t know – something will come to me…’

~oo0oo~

When Conn finally departed for Samriak, he allowed over twenty days for the journey– the pass and the town of Samriak were almost five hundred miles apart and they didn’t intend riding the whole way without several stops. Whilst not inconvenienced yet, the Wealdend was pregnant and morning sickness was still an issue. Their first destination was Sumy; the Marquis was not going to be a warm host given that things had not turned out as expected for him. That being said, he was happy about the demise of the Ancuman influence.

As they rode, they passed the many small villages that made up Sumy’s demesne and the Thanes watched nervously – despite assurances. Conn was intrigued to find that Sumy – and he expected all of Samria – had extensive fencing in place. Instead of keeping the livestock in, however, it was designed to keep them out; inside the barriers were the fields that they used to grow their wheat and barley. Being essentially pastoralists, most of their food was from their livestock, and the very extensive grazing lands that surrounded the villages allowed for large numbers of cattle.

Accordingly, they were more than happy to sell animals for slaughter as they had more than enough, or as Conn found out, for breeding purposes. He proceeded to purchase at least a hundred head of heifers from every Thane he stayed with; to be delivered to Subari. Gold turned enemies into friends – albeit temporary ones. He had more bulls coming from Meshech in the spring, and he needed to build up his herd. The Samrian beast was what he had started with before six generations of selective breeding. They did appear to have some wonderful traits that would complement his breeding activities in Meshech. The Samrians consumed more milk and cheese than any group in Meshech that he had seen, and their cows seemed to have greater milk production capabilities.

The Marquis of Sumy was surprisingly hospitable and as they sat and feasted in his hall, he asked why they had so many cattle; many more than they needed.

Sumy was happy to tell him what he knew. ‘Marquis, I think it is habit. There was a time when Samria was a major cattle trader. We took our cattle north and sold them as far away as Sytha. It would take an entire year for our people to return but it generated great wealth for us.’

Conn remembered hearing about that when he first met Lile – she had thought that he was Samrian.

‘When did you stop?’

‘I think perhaps over a hundred and thirty or forty years ago – the Larsans allowed raiders to attack and scatter our herds as we travelled through – our drovers were all killed on two occasions. They said that it was renegades and rebels, and they couldn’t do anything about it.’

‘So you stopped sending them?’

‘Yes, at great cost to us all. The plains east of here are where the cattle were finally brought together before heading to Larsa. They usually took over three thousand head of cattle, with the intention of selling over a thousand along the way and having a thousand left to sell in Sytha. There is a “cost” of using the roads between Samria and Sytha, and that was around five hundred head of cattle. Every Thane or Eaorl along the way was paid in livestock.

‘And they arrive well in Sytha?’

He nodded. ‘I understand that the high plains of Sytha are a rich grazing land – by the time the stock has passed through there they are very fat.’

After they departed Sumy, they headed west, and it was a well-established route, with inns and livery stables dotted along the road. The only thing in disrepair were the yards that were no longer being used to collect cattle for the trip to Sytha. It wouldn’t take a lot up work to get things functioning again.

Efilda had riding with her one of her new officials. His name was Beomon. Although lowly enough to be sent to the front with Dagrun, he was someone that Efilda had known since childhood and she trusted him. Following Conn’s suggestion, she had appointed him
Kaicho
, the most senior rank of five in the bureaucratic structure that Conn had established in Meshech, and that he had suggested she implement as well. Conn even arranged for him to have the uniform; a black sleeveless doublet with an embroidered pocket patch of black and purple depicting the Cross of Cerdanya inside a roundel with five gold buttons.  Under the doublet he had a cotton and linen shirt. It was much grander than the button-less layers of tunic that was the usual fashion in Samria. Conn joined him as he rode behind them. Sumy had joined them on the journey and he and his family were busying trying to impress the Wealdend. Conn was happy to escape the endless flattery.

‘Kaicho, tell me what you know about the Larsans. Nothing is too insignificant.’

~oo0oo~

After they had passed the inn on top of the mountain, they picked up speed as it was now downhill all the way to Samriak. Along the way they were met by Border Guard unit that formed an honour guard for Efilda as she passed, before continuing on their way to replace units already guarding the border with Larsa.

‘Is there a need? Are Larsans regularly invading Samria?’

Besywan shook his head. ‘Not really. There have been issues recently but only a few over a hundred years. One such time was when Caenwald was murdered… it also is more of a habit than anything else.’

As they got closer to the town it was quite impressive. The castle stood high on a mound and was visible from a distance. It was also clear as they got closer that the walls and donjon was made of stone and the quality was high – albeit that the streets were still mud and dirt and the roundhouses outside the walls were much like Conn had experienced over ten years ago when he arrived in Meshech.

‘Your ancestors were skilled masons.’

Efilda agreed. ‘I am told that of those that survived the voyage here, many were masons, and with a ready supply of resources in these hills, they chose to build the first town in stone. Of course, I can see avenues to improve based on my time in Subari.’

Colonel Wystan greeted them inside the outer walls made of timber palisades and stone guard towers. He assigned a squad to Efilda and personally escorted Conn and his men to their accommodation.

He smiled as he guided them through the streets. ‘You are lucky. The former occupants have no further use and it was built at great cost over the last few years. I didn’t even know it was here. The Ancuman destroyed a large portion of the old part of the town to build these barracks.’

It was indeed impressive. All timber structure but well-constructed to provide a home for well over five hundred cavalry.

‘It would seem that they had no intension of going home after squashing the rebellion.’

The Major agreed. ‘I have been speaking to my former colleagues that they were sure that they were the next thing to be squashed. They are all very grateful for your involvement.’

‘Glad to be of assistance. And the Ancuman wiga? Where have you put them?’

‘Nothing quite as elegant, I can assure you.’

After seeing that his men were cared for, Conn followed Wystan down the street to the main donjon, where he found a crowded great hall and Efilda waiting for him.

‘Marquis, it seems that on the news of the defeat, a palace coup quickly eventuated, and the Ancuman that remained in the town were quietly rounded up. Most survived the experience it seems and those that did are now in the dungeon. Now, let me introduce you to those of Samria that you don’t already know.’

Most of the Marquis, except for the Marquis of Sumal who was Colonel Wystan’s distant cousin, he had already met. Instead it was their daughters that vied for his attention inside the walls. Being a hot climate, the standard of wear was also light and provocative; instead of choli however, skirts – lehenga in cut and design – and blouses prevailed; with the lace tightened bodices cut to provide plunging cleavage and jutting bosoms.  It was going to be a long night.

Beomon, resplendent in his new uniform, had his staff guide Conn and Derryth to seats at the front as he escorted Efilda to a large wooden throne. She sat down as another servant brought a tray with a crown. Beomon, somewhat nervous given his rapid promotion, calls for quiet and addressed the crowd.

‘In the tradition of our people, we ask for a Folgere of Astarte to come forward to conduct the ceremony of anointment.’

There was silence as the call went unanswered.

Beomon continued, as he expected he would. ‘I then ask the two senior ranking members of the Witan to come forward and conclude the anointment, not by Gyden, but by man in her place.’

Conn was surprised to learn that the two senior Marquis were Mungan of Sarepeta and Besywan of Sumy. They came forward and each stood to one side. They then jointly held the diadem and placed it on her head. It fitted perfectly.

On release, they led the crowd in clapping, and then asked for silence.

Mungan spoke. ‘As behoves this situation, it is demanded of me to ask our Wealdend who she nominates as her heir.’

The newly crowned Wealdend rose to address the crowded great hall, adjusting the diadem as she stood.

‘I am grateful for your faith and your trust. At the beginning of spring our cause was lost – our fight in the mountains was almost over. I don’t know why or how – but I can only believe that it was the work of our beloved but absent Astarte who first blew us to these shores – but another wind blew in our saviour, Conn il Taransay. He is known by many names – I have already given him another – he is now the Marquis of Subari.’

Everyone clapped. Efilda waited for silence.

Derryth smiled and looked at Conn. ‘Just a few more and you will have a demesne in every domain in existence!’

Conn shrugged. ‘More work and responsibility... always a double edged sword.’

The Wealdend finally continued. ‘As for the question of my heir, I will name my unborn child.’

That only a very few knew. There was laughter as well as shock and then more silence.

She acknowledged Conn by hand. ‘The Marquis of Subari is the father – as he is the father of over forty children in Meshech. My child will be well connected – the Marquis of Rila in Sytha will be kin.’

Conn stood and took a little bow as she continued.

‘In the event that I do not carry to term and also in the event that my child is female, I nominate the eldest grandson of the Marquis of Sumy, Benen, as my heir – or should the event arise, as the bedda of my daughter.’

Despite being a female and supposedly not being directly involved in politics, it was soon obvious that Efilda’s declaration was a masterstroke.  The Marquis of Sumy didn’t know what to do. Conn learnt later that she had effectively adopted the child because he was not an adult, and he would be raised in her household. If she had nominated the Marquis or any of his sons – all Thanes, they would be a thorn in her side and a counter voice as Aebeling. This way, the mother of the child and the child itself would be under her roof and raised like her son.