Infinite Blue Heaven - A King and A Queen (30 page)

“What time is it?” I asked one of the bearers.

“About Midnight, Sire.”

“Good. Take me to Lord Bulya.”

We arrived at his lodgings, actually in one of the wooden buildings within the Fortress. He was alone, reading something when I knocked on the door. I could tell this because a table was set for two and a book was lying face down at his place.

“Ah! I have been expecting you.”

“Bulya.” I shook hands with him, as was my custom on informal occasions. He was, after all, a Lord.

I hobbled forwards painfully and eased myself into the chair.

“How is the leg?”

“Painful. I won’t be doing much wailing for a while.”

“Food?” He indicated the many plates with varous delicacies on them.

“Yes. I am starving!”

I loaded my plate with all kinds of meats, fish, pastries and fruit and started to eat. He poured me a cup of wine, knowing I preferred it to wine.

“I can’t wait to get back to civilisation,” he said in between sips of potka.

“Hmm.” I chuckled. “How did things go for you north of the mountains?”

He sat slightly more upright as he began.

“Well…” There was a long pause. “Passing the desert was difficult. Actually, very difficult. It was not too bad until Tiwa but after that we got very short of water. We carried as much as we could but it was unusually hot for this time of year. We could not move at Midday, as I expect you found, and so there was less time for rest and eventually the camels started to suffer. A few died and all of them had to go slower so the weaker ones could keep up. Then we could not find Hashma. I almost decided to forget it and head straight for the mountains but on the last night, I sent out the scouts and they fanned out as far as they could. One of them thought he heard a Kah-nikki bird and this lead him to the oasis. It was very fortunate the wind was in the right direction for him that night, or else I do not think any of us would have made it to the mountains.”

“When we arrived at the oasis, if it was the Hashma, I could see why it is almost mythical. It is just a pool in a rocky outcrop. But a huge sand dune on one side obscured the rock, it might as well not be there and the water is about twenty sachine down, in a tiny valley.”

* * *

Chapter Eight

“After resting for one day, we headed north,” he continued, “and about ten days later, with about eighty of my men and about forty camels dead, we finally reached the mountains. Some of the men had been killed, just for their water bottles. I would not like to have to do that march again.”

“We were a little further east of the Geldem-Ahmiz pass but berries and a few rabbits kept us alive until we reached the Ahmiz Fort.”

I interrupted him. “Were all alright there? Have they heard of Korim?”

“Ahh yes. They had not been attacked and yes, they have heard of Qureem, as he is properly called. Tradesmen from Ulan have occasionally come knocking on their doors and they have told tales of him.”

I waited for him to speak.

“The usual. A troublemaker.”

“Go on.”

“Well we could not wait so we ate and rested for a few hours and then left in the night. The camels had looked awful when we arrived and they looked little better now, but with plenty of water inside them, their step became steady and as we move east, north of the mountains, we were able to graze them peacefully enough at night. We knew that with plenty of grass, they would recovered.”

“Hm Hm.” He cleared his throat and shifted position, now leaning on the other elbow.

“As you know our lands to the north of the mountains, more or less a thin strip out to the bed of the old river, usually dry, are less well defined and most of it has been overrun now by, well, I assume Quareem’s forces. They have many small camps there and we soon had to move at night only, to avoid them. We took to the hills where there was more cover and where this separates from the main range into a long narrow spur heading eastwards, we kept to it. Soon we were moving like ghosts on this small range of hills away from the main mountains and the hills became shallower and less tree-covered and then they were little more than hillocks.”

“Two days before the attack, we found ourselves looking out from a clump of trees to a column of Enemy caravans, moving towards some red light on the horizon a little east of us. It is a wonder they never saw us, as two thousand camels are not easy to hide, even in the darkness.”

“I sent forwards my spies and they told us there was a track leading up into the mountains, where once there had been none. This must be the pass they have discovered’ I thought.”

“They also told me there was a large wooden gate there, with buildings lining a long causeway behind it and then a second gate. This they could not see clearly. We waited till day light and then I sent them forwards again. This was the morning of the attack.”

“They reported that, where two large rock faces marked the entrance to a narrow gully, there was a high gate, heavily fortified, with ramparts leading back on both sides and a platform above. It looked as if Quareem had blasted out the rocks with gunpowder to make it better defensible. But there was one way it could be taken.”

Here, Bulya looked pleased with himself. He glanced at his unlit pipe on the table and, for a moment, I thought he would light it but he didn’t.

“On one side there was a rough way up the rock and a ledge which led forwards and was above the parapet on that side. They must have built their defenses quickly because if they had taken their time, they would have blasted this away too.”

“We could actually hear blasting going on higher in the pass and as wagons went past every hour I guessed it would be easy to get gunpowder.”

“As it turned out I was right. We ambushed a few wagons and one of them had six kegs of gunpowder. So Quareem thoughtfully provided us with the way in. Ha!”

“At the appointed hour two of my men climbed on to the ledge and dropped lit bombs next to the gate, which promptly blew open! We were in. It did not actually take much work to finish them off and believe me, they were astonished to see us!”

“I bet.” I had finished eating now and burped loudly. I settled back with a full glass of wine to hear the rest of the story.

“Yes. I positioned one hundred men in the valley either side of the track leading to the doors, to ambush any wagons which approached and left about twenty men to repair the gates. When repaired the other men would man the garrison. With that the rest of us marched up into the mountains.”

“It is not so much a pass as a rough goat track up and over the mountains at a fairly shallow spot. It is still high and bitterly cold. We marched the camels all day and night to get here on time.”

“At the appointed hour we attacked the first of Quareem’s men higher up in the pass. We did not hear your trumpets by the way but we wouldn’t as you were probably a good few verst away. That is it really. The rest you know. Our main problem was stopping word getting back to Quareem about what had happened and this is hard with camels against horses I can tell you!”

“Hmm. You seemed to take a long time reaching the fort?”

Bulya leaned back with his tobacco and pipe and started packing it. I watched his face as he loaded it. A shadow of his arm performed the function of filling the pipe, behind him, on the wooden wall of the hut.

His face was calm and it was like watching for clouds on a cloudless day, watching for any emotion there. He always hid his feelings well but I wondered how disappointed he was by my Victory. I would like to find a way of touching that nerve. His face was now well furrowed with the lines of an old man and a man who had worried much. His eyes were a deep brown but I had only several times, in all our long lives, seen their colour and then only under harsh light and after a conscious effort. His eyes were usually in shadow. Oh yes he had a prominent brow and this cut off much of the light but it was almost as if he made an effort to keep his eyes from the light, or to keep the light from his eyes. He often turned this way and that, as if shy and tried to keep from being seen too clearly.

His nose, though, was fleshy, if slightly rosily veined form too much potka and his mouth was too, which suggested a sensuality and passion which he must have exercised in private. Indeed, from the stories Shakira had told me about suggestions he had made to her, I gathered he thought a lot of his bedroom technique. His teeth too, when they appeared between his lips were surprisingly well preserved and he lacked the gold teeth that many sported by his age. In all there was something about him, one did not quite trust. He never gave much away and perhaps it was just that one sensed one did not get the full picture.

“Hmm.” He cleared his throat. “We could not attack any of Quareem’s men until noon of that day. It was as you had instructed. If we had, they would have been ready for you.”

“And there were many lines of the enemy forces between the fort and your position?”

He smiled enigmatically, as if to say “I see where you are going with this”.

“No, not many. But enough, mainly small pockets and anyway, we had to move cautiously as we did not know what was there and we had no time for reconaissance.”

“A game of Chess?”

Bulya set up the Pieces, made of ivory and ebony, with elephants as the Castles, in the old style. We played and as usual, his aggressiveness was matched by his wiliness. He was a formidable player and often beat me. His mind was quick, more than that, he had a slow cunning that was quite prepared to wait for its satisfaction. I wondered if his method of play would give away anything at all about his current plans.

Within perhaps fifteen moves he had placed my Grand Cleric, on the left side under threat. He had been white, I having won the toss, and he opened with a classic saw tooth pattern but then his attack mounted on the left. The pressure on the piece forced me to consider a move rearwards and further to the left and, looking ahead five moves, I thought it seemed secure. Of course I was tired and my thinking not at its most clear. Had I thought ahead six moves, I would have seen the danger. As soon as I had moved to that square and he had moved his castle, I saw the new threat but it was already too late. It was a cheap magician’s trick, to focus my attention somewhere while the main threat was somewhere else, but it had worked. I thought of Shakira, alone in the Palace, and I had the immediate urge to go to her. My hand started to shake with anger but I forced it to be still. If Bulya was that devious and if there was a threat there, then it would have to wait. The Army could not leave yet and I could not leave without my Army. This man in front of me was such a brazen traitor and yet I could never find any proof against him. He looked me in the eyes and although I could not see his own, I saw a smile creep across his face.

“You did not seem too upset by Abdil’khan’s death.”

“I was. He was a good soldier, a good General. But this is war. Ask me again when we are in the comfort of the court and I will no doubt muster a eulogy for him.”

“But your thoughts are always hidden, Lord Bulya.”

“Not always.” He spoke quietly but seemed taken aback by my directness. He sensed an attack and I knew he must be vulnerable. His emotions must be running high after my Victory, unless of course, he had expected me to win and had other plans.

“Have you ever met the King of Ulan?”

He looked straight down at the board, averting his gaze.

“No, Sire.”

Bulya knew that when two men played Chess, rank was left outside the tent. The use of the word Sire was an indication that he was off balance.

“Bulya. We were friends once. I don’t know what happened but I do not want you as an enemy.”

“And you shall not have me as an enemy.” His brazenness was almost preposterous. He knew he had been found out and yet still he was defiant. There was a hint of ‘because you will no longer be around’ in his answer.

“You are to go to King Ulan, tomorrow and deliver my greetings as a diplomat. I will write a letter which you will deliver to him and you will return with his reply. I tire of this game.” I stood up.

“I too tire of the game,” said Bulya. Neither of us knocked over our King but neither claimed victory. It would be a draw.

I could do little for now but send Bulya on a pointless mission, one which might delay him from returning to Parat and would certainly remove his ability to plot among the soldiers.

Bulya left early in the morning. I did not allow him an escort.

For the next few days, we continued, at a leisurely pace, to repair the Fortress. I thought I would leave some men here when we returned to Parat and make it a permanent Fortress.

One problem we had to solve was what to do with the stream. It had been dammed by Quareem perhaps only days before we arrived and now there was a deep lake behind the fort.

It was dammed in a narrow gully, using piled rocks and mud and it took nearly three days with our engineers and some soldiers taking it in turns, knee deep in icy cold, rushing water, to clear it.

Finally the water flowed through its old bed in the Fortress settlement, between buildings and out through the gates and down the stony slope, before turning east, not far below the rise, and following the skirt of the mountains. It was good to hear the sound of rushing water there and before long many stumpy bushes, which had been just brown thickets, sprang back into green life. We made the Fortress habitable and soon it was a functioning village. The Cook’s men returned with the materials needed for embalming and the bodies of my Generals, Abdil’khan, Zhuan’zhuan, Yedigei and the youngest, Edil’bai were quietly embalmed.