“You see now why this should not be seen in open court,:’ Yanulf said. “And why young Apelles referred the matter to me.”
“Sure. You’re trying to undermine civil authority,” Rick said.
“Nay, lord!” Apelles said. “We are loyal.”
I’m sure you think so. But if nothing else, you’re inventing benefit of clergy, which apparently they don’t have here. Still, the priesthood of Yatar, as organized by Yanulf, is the nearest thing to a literate civil service I have. They also have a monopoly on paper. I can’t do without them.
“First,” Rick said, “I hadn’t known how serious Enipses’s labor problem is. We’ll have to do something about that.”
“At harvest time there will be labor shortages everywhere,” Yanulf said. “It has always been so.”
Rick scribbled a note: “Get Campbell working on a reaper.”
“There is a machine,” Rick said. “A way to harvest grain—grain! Where is the place for Hestia in this vision of Polycarp’s?”
“As the mother of Christ,” Yanulf said. “For as you know, the Christ was born of a virgin. Polycarp preaches a doctrine which he calls ‘Immaculate Conception,’ under which Hestia took on the flesh of a mortal in order to bear a son to Yatar.”
“And you believe this?”
Yanulf frowned. “I know not what to believe. One thing is certain, the prophecies of The Time are true. And they were revealed by Yatar himself. The Romans know much of The Time, and thus must once have known Yatar.” He shrugged. “Perhaps Polycarp is correct, their Jehovah is Yatar. The names are not unlike.”
“Fortunately we need not decide the matter today,” Rick said. “For the problem at hand, I will remit some of Enipses’s taxes. You will send a persuasive emissary to bear that pleasant news. Someone who will persuade Enipses that it would not be wise to make great changes in the governing of Yatar’s caves. Someone to point out that neither Wanax Ganton nor I nor Eqetassa Tylara would favor Bacreugh’s cause.”
“That may be sufficient,” Yanulf said.
“As to Nictoros, I will issue a pardon.”
“Who will make up what you remit to Enipses, lord?” Apelles asked.
“We’ll have to work that out,” Rick said. “Maybe you could see to it?”
“We will do that,” Yanulf said.
Sure you will, Rick thought. And that’ll fall on some poor schmuck who’s irritated his local priest. But what the hell can I do?
I can get Campbell working on that reaper.
When dusk came, Jamiy brought in lamps. Rick sighed. They still hadn’t managed good lamps. These burned a mixture of oil and naptha, and gave better light than the older tapers, but the light was still too dim, and gave him a headache. One day, he thought, I’ll need spectacles, and I won’t have them. And then what? But this has got to be done.
Ganton had summoned the chivalry of Drantos to the high plains. Rick was horrified. He could see no use for that many undisciplined heavy cavalrymen. Useful or not, though, they had to be fed. Wagons, horses, grain, all had to be found and sent in a steady stream, and since the bheromen had contributed their share and more, a lot had to come from the free towns- who weren’t anxious to provide it. Writs had to be prepared, spies sent to find new sources of wealth to tax, constables sent to harass the obstinate. . . He worked for two more hours.
“It is time, lord.”
Rick looked up from his paperwork to see Padraic.
“The night meal is prepared. You wished to be called,” Padraic said. “The Guards wait outside.”
“Thanks. Come in, Padraic. There’s wine over there. Pour some for both of us, and sit down.” Rick carefully stacked the papers and parchments and leaned back in his chair. Far out to the west he saw moving lights in the semaphore tower, and wondered what message was coming in.
When Padraic brought the wine, he lifted his glass. “Cheers,” he said, and laughed when his archer captain looked puzzled.
“An expression from my home world,” Rick explained. “Tell me, how have the men taken the news, of Lord Caradoc’s promotion?”
“Well, lord. It gives hope to all, that one may rise high if one has talent and is willing.”
And loyal. Let’s not forget that one. “Yes. Well, here’s to Lord Caradoc!” They touched glasses and Rick drained his, then held it out for a refill. “Tell me, Padraic, you were raised in Tamaerthon—what do you know of Bacreugh?”
There was a crash as Padraic dropped the pewter goblet. He bent quickly to pick it up and refill it.
Rick drew his Colt and clicked off the safety. He held the pistol concealed below the table. “Sit down,” he said. “I think we’d better talk.”
“Aye, lord. How did you find out?”
“I have ways.” What the hell have I found out? “Now tell me about it.”
“Lord, there is little to tell. My grandmother is sister to the mother of Mac Bratach Bhreu, and thus I am kin to Bacreugh. It was a kinsman who approached me.”
“What did he offer?”
“He said that a friend to Bacreugh wished to speak with me, and that he would offer me honor and gold,” Padraic said. “I told him that I have honor enough, and it may not be had for gold. Lord, what should I have done? For I cannot betray my kinsman, and indeed he said nothing of importance.”
“What did he say?”
“Only that. Only that Bacreugh—he said a friend to Bacreugh, but I surmised that the friend would be Bacreugh himself—wished to speak with me, and it would be much to my interest to do so; that he would offer me honor and gold, and I need do little—but what I would be required to do he did not say.”
Rick thumbed the Colt’s safety on. “But you guessed?”
“No, lord.”
“Then why did you drop the goblet?”
“I had heard you can hear thoughts, lord. I had not known it was true until now. For I was at that very moment wishing I knew what Bacreugh wished of me.”
“You can do better,” Rick said. “You must know they intended for you to kill me. Or to let one of them get past you and do it.”
“Nay, lord, I do not know it. I know only that Bacreugh wished to make an offer—and that he is a kinsman, as was the man he sent to approach me.”
“What other kinsmen have you within the Mounted Archers?”
“Only Caradoc, lord.”
“That’s right, Caradoc is your kinsman—he is kin to Bacreugh, then.”
“Aye, lord. He is related much as I am.”
“Did you tell him about this?”
Padraic laughed. “No, lord. Lord Caradoc is—quick to defend his honor. I was his chosen under-captain. He might have seen an offer to me as an insult to him, a matter for blood. And I cannot think he would wish blood-feud with his own kin.”
There was a furious knocking on the door. “Captain!” someone shouted. Rick recognized Elliot’s voice.
“Come in, Sergeant Major.”
Elliot was breathless. He held a paper in his hand. “Just decoded this from the semaphore, Captain. They’ve spotted a satellite over Castle Dravan!”
28
Elliot put the decoded message on Rick’s desk. “Just as you told ‘em, Cap’n. Right after the True Sun set and while the ‘Stealer was low on the horizon, they saw a bright light moving across the sky.”
“Direction?”
“Southwest to northeast.”
“Has to be a satellite,” Rick agreed.
“I checked the shrine,” Elliot said. “Nothing on the radio, and there’s been somebody there all the time.”
“Hmm. They don’t want to talk with us.”
“Not yet, anyway.”
“So the next question is, who is it? Shalnuksis or a human? They’re a little early for surinomaz, and I’d think they’d know that. They’re making observations they don’t care to have us know about. Any ideas on that?”
“None I like.”
“Me either,” Rick said. He took a blank sheet of paper and began to write. “REWARD THE OBSERVER.
THEN COME AT ONCE. BRING CHILDREN. IMPERATIVE ARMAGH THOUGHT MAJOR AREA OF INTEREST.”
He handed it to Elliot. “Get this coded and see that it goes off to Tylara.”
Elliot glanced at the paper. “Maybe it’d be best for the kids to stay at Dravan.”
“I thought of that, but— If they’re here to drop bombs, I’d rather Tylara stayed at Dravan too. In the caves.”
“Think she’d do it?”
“No.” Rick took the message and crossed through the words “BRING CHILDREN.”
Elliot nodded agreement. “Not likely anything’ll happen.”
“Not this time,” Rick said. “Not this time.”
The field stank of too many men and too many horses. Even in the headquarters tent which was carefully placed upwind of the main encampment, the smell was there, despite the moaning hot wind that blew down the Westscarp. Lordy, I want to go home, Art Mason thought.
The adjutant brought in a paper and handed it to Mason. Art examined it and whistled. “If we don’t do something pretty soon,” he said, “we’re not going to have any army left.”