Down Styphon!, page 24
part #8 of Kalvan Series
Euriphocles whistled. “What crawled up Lukthos’ tunic?”
“After learning about Kalvan’s victorious takeover of BlethaTown without a shot fired, it appears our ally is worried that if Balph falls, Ktemnos City will follow right behind. He fears that Kalvan may already have a replacement waiting to occupy the Golden Throne, as he did in Hos-Bletha with the Orphan Prince.”
Euriphocles shook his head. “I doubt even the Usurper has planned that far ahead.”
Styphon’s Voice laughed. “Neither do I, but I sent a message to
Archpriest Theomenes in Ktemnos City and he planted the suggestion in the Great King’s ear. Lukthos is a candle with a short wick, and I knew he would buy the story.”
“Yes, he’s still not firmly seated on the Golden Throne. There are many among the Ktemnoi nobility who would like to see him slip.”
“Not as long as we prop him up,” Anaxthenes replied. “And he knows it."
TWENTY-EIGHT
I
Captain-General Hestophes took a deep breath and waited for the fireworks to begin: Great Queen Rylla’s audience chamber was filled to bursting with hotheads and even hotter tempers. Besides himself, Prince Phrames was the only cool head in the room. King Chartiphon was insisting that he was not going to stay behind again while Queen Rylla and Prince Sarrask went jaunting off to Old Hostigos and had all the fun. Rylla was insisting that Prince Phrames had done a great job managing the Kingdom’s affairs while they were off besieging Tarr-Ceros, but that he couldn’t guard the Kingdom all by himself—not with King Chartiphon gone.
Chartiphon insisted that Phrames could protect their thrones, and that his Chancellor could manage his own Kingdom’s affairs just fine without him. “Your Majesty, I’m not going to allow you to travel through the wilderness to Hostigos without my—”
“Allow!” Rylla exploded. “As I recall, I stopped allowing you or anyone else to manage my affairs when I became of age, including my father!”
Chartiphon shrugged. “You’re all that’s left of Old Hostigos. I left Tarr-Hostigos, at Kalvan’s request, and what happened? Your father and Harmakros died. Xentos left for Agrys City a long time ago, and no one knows whether he’s alive or dead. If I lose you, I’ve lost everyone and everything.”
Chartiphon’s voice was filled with such a plaintive note that even Rylla noticed and shook off her anger. She reached over and put her hand on top of his. “I know you’re only trying to protect me, Uncle. But I need to help fight this war, too. Kalvan would prefer that I stay home with our babies, but I need to see our land, that is, whats left of it. This land is too rocky and cold. I want to return to Hostigos. It’s my duty.”
“I understand, Your Majesty. I still intend to bring part of my army and accompany you. Is my lifetime of soldiering not enough for you?”
Rylla sighed. “You can come. But I will never forgive myself if anything happens to you....”
The old soldier straightened up. “I’ve learned from the Great King how to lead from behind. I’m not about to leave a widow with three children to rule in my stead!”
Hestophes was shocked. The old dog must have had another child while I was in Hos-Zygros.
“Fine,” Rylla huffed. “You can join us. How many troops will you be bringing?”
“I can bring six thousand men, four thousand horse and two thousand foot, without compromising the safety of Rathon,” Chartiphon said proudly.
Maybe the time has come for Kalvan to enthrone Chartiphon as Great King of Hos-Rathon, Hestophes thought. He would have to bring that up the next time their paths crossed. One of the character traits he most admired in his Great King was Kalvan’s ability to take pleasure in his subordinates accomplishments and enjoy rewarding their successes. No other king or noble in the Five Kingdoms would have ever elevated him, a publican’s son, to the nobility, much less made him a royal captain-general, no matter how great his military exploits.
“Prince Phrames, how many men will you need for the proper defense of Thagnor and Our Kingdom?” the Great Queen asked.
“With six thousand men and the city militia, I can hold the city for a year. The Kingdom’s princes have enough troops to hold their lands. Since peace has been declared with Grefftscharr, there has been no hint of war from any of our neighbors. I might worry about King Hyrum of Dorg, except the nomads from the Sea of Grass hit him very hard last year. Several towns were sacked and burned; he’s got too much rebuilding work to do in his realm to trespass on anyone’s lands. Furthermore, now that Grand Master Soton no longer poses a threat to us, most of our neighbors want to ally themselves with Nos-Hostigos. I believe I can say with certainty, never has there been less chance of war in the Middle Kingdoms than at the present time.”
Rylla nodded. “I agree. Captain Halgoth, my husbands envoy to Warlord Sargos, whom he was trying to enlist in the war against the Order of Zarthani Knights, returned with a refusal. Sargos claimed that the headmen and sachems of the various clans and tribes in the Sea of Grass refused to join under his banner. Many of the chiefs are still recovering from the previous summers losses, while those who were successful are busy enjoying their spoils. So there should be no trouble from the southwest.”
That was the first Hestophes had heard of Ranjar Sargos and the Great King’s request. Rylla liked to keep information tight to her bodice, which was a problem for her top underlings. Sarrask didn’t mind as long as he got an opportunity to wield his sword. Hestophes, on the other hand, found it problematic. He was supposed to be Captain-General of the Army of Old Hostigos, but far too often found himself lacking essential information. If he hadn’t owed Her Majesty so much, he might have balked at returning to Hostigos without Kalvan. He knew that if he didn’t go and something bad happened to the Great Queen, he would never be able to forgive himself. Much less explain his reasons for staying behind to Kalvan.
“When will we be leaving?” Sarrask, Prince of Ragyath, asked. “I can bring six thousand cavalry to add to the army.”
“Soon,” Rylla replied. “I’m only waiting for the depot teams to return.”
As winter had wrapped up, Great Queen Rylla had sent out large teams of quartermasters to set up depots along the Nyklos Trail so that the army wouldn’t have to bring so many victuals for them and hay for the livestock during their trek.
“As soon as the first team returns, we will leave. With King Chartiphon’s army, we will be taking over eighteen thousand troops, twelve thousand of them cavalry.”
With that number of men, Hestophes thought, we should be able to march right into Harphax City, much less retake Old Hostigos which these days probably didn't have more than a thousand soldiers in all of the former princedoms combined. I wonder what Rylla is really up to?
II
Governess Tymolara indicated with a hand signal that the boys were to follow her to one of their secret chambers where they could speak in private without fear of being overheard. They followed her like puppies, running ahead, then falling behind. They had sword practice scheduled in another half candle and were excited. When they reached the fourth intersecting passageway, she had them turn left and then walked to a battered wooden door that was deeply recessed into the stone wall. According to palace rumors, the chamber had once been where former Great King Demistophon’s father had kept his concubines hidden from his wife. Now, the room was filled with discarded furniture and decaying tapestries. She burrowed her way through the clutter and the boys followed her to a small alcove in the back of the chamber.
Once they were seated, she put the candle on a small sconce on the back wall. The candle sputtered, then burned strongly again, illuminating the small chamber filled with broken stools and other junk.
“What is it, Lady?” asked Dementros.
Rythor and Altos both nodded.
“I have learned more about the Prince-Regents plans for you, Dementros.”
The young man’s eyes lit up. “Is he going to put me in the front lines?”
She shrugged. “I fear his plans do not include you reaching Balph alive.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, his voice trembling.
She had no idea exactly what the archpriest had planned, other than the planned battle assassination for Dementros; but, he was in her charge, and she knew that if she let him leave with Archpriest Grythos, he would never return. “His plans have changed. He’s going to drown you at sea.”
“What, that’s not an honorable death!” the boy squawked.
“No, nor is the Arch-butcher Grythos in any way an honorable man. Their plan, once the transport is underway, is to wake you in the middle of the night and tell you to put on your armor. Then they’ll take you up to the main deck and throw you overboard where you will sink to the bottom like a stone.”
To the boys, the image was so real that they all turned white as virgin snow.
“B...b...but,” sputtered Dementros. “That’s murder!”
“Yes, Grythos wants you gone so that when he returns to Agrys City he can mount the Golden Throne himself. If the Styphoni are successful and defeat Great King Kalvan, who can stop him?”
The boys shook their heads.
“No one,” whispered Althos.
“Right,” she said.
“What can we do?” Dementros asked.
“I have a plan,” she replied. “I have already spoken with an apothecary, one who lives in hiding and is unrecognized.”
The boys understood that. Ever since the Styphoni had taken the capital city, many followers of the former king, as well as worshippers of Dralm and Yirtta, had gone underground, living in the city’s nooks and crannies.
“This apothecary has given me a potion that, when taken in small quantities, mimics a deadly illness. I will administer this potion to you a few days before the army is scheduled to depart for Balph so that you will be too ill to leave with them.”
“But,” sputtered Dementros, “this is not honorable—”
“Shut your mouth, boy! You know nothing of honor. This will save your life. Tell me, what honor is there in drowning in the ocean depths or having your neck slit open?”
Dementros shook his head in confusion.
“You have responsibilities, Dementros. To your Great King, to your subjects and to the Throne.”
“But I’m not really—”
“Don’t ever say that out loud, don’t even think it! You are the true prince of Hos-Agrys and your people need you. Think of how proud of you this would have made your father.”
He gulped. “Yes, Governess. I will take the potion.”
“Good,” she replied. She looked pointedly at the other two boys. “Do you understand what we are going to do and why?”
“Yes,” they both replied quickly. They weren’t stupid and knew full well that they too would share their prince’s fate should Grythos get his hands on them.
“Now let us pray to the Allfather. First, that our Great King Kalvan defeats the godless Styphoni and destroys Balph. Next that Archpriest Grythos is killed during the siege. And, finally, that Hos-Hostigos is once again restored to its former glory.”
* * *
TWENTY-NINE
I
Kalvan pored over the deerskin maps of the Southern Kingdoms, trying to compare them to familiar maps he’d grown up with. Bletha Town was located near Atlanta, Georgia, while Dalthrax Port was in the same spot as Savannah. The Sylos Road ran directly from Dalthrax, where a good part of his army had wintered, to Bletha Town. The best path to Wilmington, or Balph here-and-now, was the old coastal road, Route 17. Here-and-now it was called the Balthros Road. Ktemnos City was located about where Norfolk, Virginia was in otherwhen. The successor great king to Cleitharses was Great King Lukthos, who, from all indications, was deep into Styphon’s pockets. After Balph fell, he would take his army there just to finish off the last of the Styphoni.
With the addition of several Blethan princely armies, his force had grown to number over forty-five thousand men, and he wanted to get them to Balph by the most direct route. He wasn’t at all eager to tackle all the swamps and streams of central Georgia and South Carolina. The mosquitos were bad enough as it was....
At least, now that most of the soldiers were bivouacked in Bletha Town they had conquered the cholera problem. He knew from his study of history that one of biggest killers of pre-industrial armies was not fighting, but disease. God help them all if there was an outbreak of the plague. Another reason to transport as many soldiers as possible by sea travel. Plus, they could transport much of their supplies and foodstuffs via the ocean and wouldn’t have to bring everything in the baggage train. After their initial loss, the Styphoni warships had left them alone.
Still, Kalvan needed his warships riding herd over the transports, providing protection. During the winter, he had sent Rylla a dispatch telling her to send all the ships she could spare to Dalthrax Port. As soon as the ice melted, she’d sent the entire fleet, except for the gunboats: sixteen armed schooners and twenty-two transports had arrived within the last week. The boats from the Saltless Seas weren’t designed for ocean travel, but the schooners’ guns and Greek fire made them the most dangerous warships here-and-now.
He felt his stomach rumble and smelled the fresh odor of baking bread; it permeated everywhere in town. Every bakery in Blethan Town was baking bread for the army. He hadn’t had time to introduce yeast, and wasn’t sure where to get it. Mental note: Have Brother Mytron look into brewer's yeast. He suspected that unleavened bread had a longer shelf life, but the local loaves quickly got tough, probably as bad as the seabiscuit the British Navy lived on in the Age of Sail. Fortunately—and thanks to his wife’s foresight—the incoming ships had their holds filled with fire-seed, weapons, parched corn, dried beans, squash and sausages—not necessarily in that order. This campaign they weren’t going to be caught short on either foodstuffs or gunpowder.
He heard a discreet knock on his chamber door and Cleon stuck his head in. “Great King Valthros to see you, sire.”
“Send him in.”
“Your Majesty,” Democriphon said, as he bowed with a flourish. “You called?”
“Yes, Colonel—I mean Valthros.”
Great King Valthros smiled openly. “I still have a hard time believing all the events of the past few winters myself. I’d always dreamed of being a great soldier, but never royalty. My family were barons in Old Hostigos, but not overly wealthy. They did provide me with a good tutor, which turned out to be their most important legacy considering all the parchments I have to read and sign.”
Kalvan nodded his agreement. “I know you went into this great king business reluctantly, but you’ve done a good job. Your princes admire and look up to you, and you have the loyalty of our soldiers and subjects. There is one problem that we need to address.”
Valthros looked puzzled. “Whats that, Your Majesty?”
“Prince Mythros told me that if the real Prince Valthros had a child, you would step down when he reached his majority. Is that true?”
“Yes, at the time I was reluctant to take the throne, and that seemed like a convenient escape clause. Now, I’m sorry I ever agreed.”
“I know the Prince is a valued vassal; we would hate to lose his trust and loyalty. What are the chances of the true prince ever having issue?”
At this, Valthros smiled. “Slim to none. He’s made sport with more milkmaids than Duke Skranga, and has yet to produce an offspring.”
Skranga was a notorious cocksman and if the real prince hadn’t produced an heir yet, the chances were good that he would never do so. “That’s good to know,” Kalvan said. “But it is a good lesson: Don’t make promises you cannot guarantee to keep.”
Valthros blushed and looked uncomfortable. “I won’t make that mistake again, Sire.”
“Good,” Kalvan replied. It appeared that Democriphon’s years in Hos-Bletha had done him a lot of good. Gone was the cocky and arrogant young Colonel in the mold of General Custer. “Now, I have some bad news for you.”
He paled. “What, Your Majesty?”
“We’re going to have to leave you behind. I need someone here I can trust to make sure any Styphoni sympathizers don’t start causing trouble. We need our supply line to be as secure as possible.” Kalvan could read the hurt on Valthros’ face. He held up his hands, palms out. “I know it’s asking a lot, but I need you here.”
Valthros did his best to keep a stiff upper lip. “Yes, Your Majesty. Are you sure? Prince Mythros could do just as good job as I can of holding Bletha Town and our supply line.”
“Maybe. But, if the army were to suffer some kind of reverse, I want someone I can trust with my life holding the reins of power.”
That seemed to mollify Valthros. “Yes, Your Majesty. I will do my best to keep Hos-Bletha firmly in your camp. It will give me a good opportunity to work with the militia as well.”
“Have you introduced all the elements of the Hostigos Great Charter?”
Valthros shook his head. “I wasn’t secure enough in my powers to announce it and make it stick. I was able to outlaw slavery in the princedoms I ruled, but not serfdom. The right to declare war upon their neighbors is going to be a tough one to enforce, but after Balph falls I don’t believe anyone will challenge it.”
“Good,” Kalvan replied. “I’ll look forward to your progress. Do understand, I value you and your loyalty to Hostigos. When this war is over, we will frame an alliance that will bind our two houses together for all time.”
II
Prince-Regent Grythos came charging into Prince Dementros’ bedchamber as though he was assaulting an enemy fortress—all he needed was a sword in hand to finish off the image. “What is wrong with you, boy?” he demanded. “We’re leaving for Balph at first light tomorrow morning. The Prince is supposed to be coming with us.”
The boy attempted to speak, but his words were jumbled and barely discernable.
“Young Dementros is deathly ill, Your Highness,” Lady Tymolara answered. She knew, after two years of living in the same palace, that the Archpriest didn’t like to see his plans thwarted, and reacted accordingly.
