Much Fall of Blood-ARC (79 page)

* * *

Bortai had been sitting talking to Dana, when the Wyvern arrived as silently as only it could. "He is talking to your brother."

Both of them stood up headed towards the great ger. "Not in there," said the Wyvern. "In some little store tent at the far side of the camp. My brother is listening to them."

Bortai arrived there, scattering people, curious, sniggering people trying to listen in. Just in time to hear her brother, prompted by his little friend no doubt, tell Erik that she snored.

"This has gone on long enough," she said angrily, bursting in. "Stop it. He's a good man . . ."

Kildai laughed. So by the sounds of it did half the audience outside.

"They are playing a practical joke on you, Erik. It is my fault."

He smiled at her. "I snore too."

Kildai stood up. He was still smiling. "All right, sister."

He faced Erik. "As her brother, you have my permission to pay court to her. But . . ." he held up a hand, looking much older than his years, "You will also need the permission of the Great Khan of the Golden Horde. And he is different person to me."

"But . . .!" protested Bortai.

"No buts," said Kildai, firmly. "Erik is not of the clan, not of the people. You are a very important person to me, to the clan. He must go and ask." He looked every inch a Khan, and she was proud of him, even if he was playing games with her. There was an element of payback there, she had to admit. Some of it was . . . fair. "I will see you in the ger of the Great Khan. You may want to ask your Khan Manfred to come and stand as your friend," he said to Erik.

Erik nodded. "Bortai . . ."

"Go," said Kildai, sternly above her protest.

* * *

Erik went back to Manfred's ger.

"We can't have you going like that," said Manfred looking at him. "I've a spare cotte. And Falkenberg. Come and trim his hair."

It took quite a while before Erik was considered ready. Manfred seemed to be in no hurry about it.

They walked together up the hill toward the great felt tent. People cheered. Manfred waved a lordly hand. Erik just walked.

The ger was a huge structure, needing whole trees for support. It was full. But people moved aside to let them pass.

Erik and Manfred came at last to the Great Khan's dias, and his chair. There, standing next to it, was Bortai. Looking as if she would either burst into tears, rip someone's ears off, or turn and run. Her face was very pale.

The Great Khan, dressed as befitted his station, looked at Erik.

"You're supposed to bow," said Manfred, prodding him.

Erik wondered whether he should turn and run. But he looked at Bortai instead. She looked as if she was going to faint. She was holding onto Vlad's little sister. So he smiled at her. And bowed respectfully to Kildai.

"You may advance," said the General of Khesig, Pakai.

They walked forward.

Kildai smiled. "Erik Hakkonsen. I have spoken to your Khan. I conferred with the Khans of the various clans, with my generals, and with my war-shaman. I have not forgotten that when every man's hands were raised against us, you stood as our friend. You did not know who we were, and you expected no reward. Your honor is a bright beacon." He stood up and walked over to Erik. "You are supposed to kneel," he said quietly.

Erik did. Kildai kissed him on both cheeks. "Let all of the Clans of the Golden Horde, know that this man is now one of us. To strike a blow against him, is to strike a blow against the Hawk Clan, the people of Golden Horde."

The people in the ger—and, by the sounds of it, right across the camp joined in the pounding of shields and cheering.

Eventually Kildai held up his hand for silence.

Erik had had time to think. Time to look at Bortai. Time to understand what the wyvern had said to him, and what it meant to the Golden horde. And more importantly, what it meant to Bortai.

"Now," said Kildai. "You had something to ask me about the Princess Bortai."

Erik shook his head slowly.

The vast ger was still.

"No," he said. "I have spoken to her brother, Great Khan. Now I must challenge her."

Kildai beamed. "You are one of us! But so far seven men have tried. They wagered a hundred horses, as is tradition. I think a few more might also have been that courageous, but that is a lot of horses."

"Khutulun's suitor wagered a thousand horses," said Erik. He noticed that David was also there, grinning, and whispering a translation to Manfred.

There were murmurs. Smiles. The people seemed pleased that he knew the story.

* * *

"But I do not have a thousand horses," she heard Erik say.

Bortai was as tense as drawn bowstring. Her gut was twisted up in a knot around her heart . . .

"Hell's teeth, Erik. I'm good for a thousand horses," said Manfred expansively. "Make it a thousand and one. I can't have you outdone by some other fellow. I will stake you a thousand and one horses, my friend. Any day and any time."

Someone translated. The crowd were silenced. A thousand and one horses! That put the wealth of the foreigner at a level that most Mongol could not dream of. That the foreign Khan put such a value on the Tortoise Orkhan was quite a revelation.

Erik stood still for a few moments, aware that he was being watched by most of the flower of Golden Horde Clans. Slowly he shook his head.

Bortai felt the bottom drop out of her world.

"No!" he said. "I will only wager what I have. And that I will do."

"And what is that?" asked Kildai.

"I said, Great Khan: I will wager what I have. Everything."

There was a stunned silence.

"It's not much. My horse. My gear. My land. Myself. My life if need be."

He turned to Bortai as if there were not several thousand people watching. As if they were the only people there. "Will you accept my wager?"

Bortai, for the first time in a lifetime of telling people exactly what to do, found that she had no voice. She sniffed determinedly. Maybe he knew the story. But it didn't matter. She knew Erik. He said from the heart, with absolute and utter conviction. He knew and understood the honor he was giving her, here, before the assembled clans. It would be remembered. It should be remembered. She still found her voice was weak. But she could nod, and say 'yes', so quietly that only he could hear.

The clans, however, could see the nod. "Fight!" the chant began.

"Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!"

* * *

The center of the ger was cleared. Erik faced Bortai. And he really did not know what to expect.

He learned quickly enough. Wrestling is a matter of strength among some people. Among the Mongol nobility, it was a martial art—as well as marital one. It was about using your opponent's weight and strength. And, however Bortai felt about him, she was not going to give him an easy time of it. Fortunately, he knew how to land and how to get up again. And she wasn't actually trying to kill him. After a few minutes, Erik was glad of that, and stopped remembering that his opponent was both smaller than him, and a woman. Instead he fought to survive, and hopefully, to win. Fortunately, the school of skills she had did not entirely match his own . . . of course that also meant that she knew throws that he didn't.

* * *

Bortai's heart sang. At last she'd found a man who . . . understood. Understood the balance between honor, duty and love. And, what was more, could wrestle. The honor he given her had to be repaid. She certainly could not lose easily.

And then, as he twisted neatly behind her, taking her arm in a pinion hold that she did not know, she realized that she would not have to.

And then, he let her go. Stepped back. "I would never defeat my wife," he said, smiling.

She bowed, acknowledging a worthy foe. "But perhaps you would kiss her," she said, smiling back at him.

They did.

Maybe the crowd cheered.

She didn't notice.

Maybe they would tell their children and grandchildren that they'd been there.

She didn't care.

"Caesar. It has been done and the babe and mother lived to tell the tale," said Falkenberg. "But it takes a skilled surgeon. Someone like Marco Valdosta. It is neither safe nor successful that often. But it has been done."

"Explain," said Dana, knowing that there was a listening wyvern in the ger.

So the knight did. Dana swallowed and was brave. But she wondered if she should tell him that a wyvern would be accompanying them on the Via Engata.

* * *

"So, you are married," Vlad beamed. "Congratulations! I am hurt that I was not invited, but at least Dana was there."

"Well . . . I didn't even know that I had proposed," said Erik, "And been accepted, months ago, before we even met you, Vlad. But we'll be having another ceremony in Iceland. You'd be welcome at that," he said ginning like a man who had just discovered that the world can be a very good place sometimes. It was after terce, and Bortai and Erik had just emerged from the same ger.

Vlad looked a little puzzled. "You had proposed?"

"I didn't have a very good grasp of the language," said Erik. "It was the second thing I said to Bortai."

She held on to him very proprietorially. "And I will make sure that he says it to no other young maidens! I need all of him." She licked her lips. Dimpled. "Again. I am teaching him the art of wrestling."

Erik blushed. "So what is the news out of Hungary?" he said hastily.

"Chaos. If I had the men and the inclination I could go a-conquering. But I have neither," said Vlad. "I have consolidated my Duchy. And that is good enough. It will take years to fix what needs to be fixed. I came because Dana sent word you would be going south to take the Via Egnata home."

"Well, yes. But the news is that some vessels have been sighted nosing their way up the Danube. Venetian ships. So we wait now for them. We plan to ride down there in few hours.

"Then we will have the gifting ceremony," said Bortai. "You will come, Khan-from-over-the mountains?"

"But of course, if I am invited. What will I have to do?"

"The bride and groom sit together. The bride's father or protector brings her portion, and puts it around them. Then the guests each place a gift for the couple around them. There is a big feast, and everyone gets very drunk. Usually some people fight," explained Bortai.

So Vlad joined them in the ride down to the Danube.

* * *

Sitting in the chairs, holding Bortai's hand, Erik was almost too stunned to take in the steadily growing pile of golden jewelry and coinage growing around them, until it got to waist high. "I hope they stop before they cover us."

Bortai smiled at him, laughing a little. "But I must be at least as rich as you. And anyway . . . it is part of the legend. Gold . . . they can always find more gold. But dreams and honor are more precious. This is the story which will keep their honor burning bright forever. They want have been here, to have been part of it, to have added to the pile around the poor mongol maiden and her khan."

Adige:

River to the west of the Venetian lagoon, barge-route to Verona, and thence the Brenner Pass.

Aquitaine:

An independent kingdom, encompassing parts of what in our universe would be France and England.

Armagh, The League of:

A loose alliance of Celtic/Nordic states.

Arsenalotti:

The workers at the Arsenal, Venice's state shipyard.

Ascalon:

A port in Palestine.

Aqua alta:

Winter high-water.

Auslander:

Foreigner—a term of derision

Bacino:

Harbor basin.

Barducci's:

A tavern well known for music.

Botega:

An artistic studio. A group of artists gathered together for commercial production of art, usually under a master artist.

Brenta:

River just to the west of the lagoon.

Bretagne:

Brittany. An independent Duchy, part of the league of Armagh.

Basse taille:

An enamelling technique.

Capi di contrada:

Officer of control.

Carnac:

Capital of Celtic Brittany.

Case Vecchie:

Great houses.

Chioggia:

Settlement on the West of the lagoon.

Chrysostom, John:

Charismatic preacher associated with St. Hypatia, at the breakpoint between this universe and ours, born 349 a.d.

Colleganza:

A collective trading venture.

Collegio:

Senators of the Venetian Republic.

Curti:

Lit. short—the
Case Vecchie
who had not been ennobled for many years.

Caique:

Eastern Mediterranean sailing vessel.

Cassone:

A carved chest.

Cotte:

A surplice-like garment—the predecessor of coat.

Dalmatia:

The Western Adriatic coastline. Once the source of much of Venice's timber.

Emeric:

King of Hungary.

Ferrara:

City-state in the Po valley in Northern Italy, known for steelworking, particularly swordsmiths.

Fruili:

Region to the northeast of Venice.

Fjells:

Peaks (Norse).

Godar:

Priest-chieftain.

Guidecca:

Long island across a wide canal from the Rialto Islands.

Galliot:

Small galley.

Hohenstauffen:

The ruling house of the Holy Roman Empire.

Hypatia, St. Of Alexandria:

Patron Saint of the Hypatian order. Neoplatonist philosopher and librarian of the great library at Alexandria. Her saving of the Library from the mob instigated by Cyril the Patriarch of Alexandria is, along with Hypatia's conversion to Christianity and alliance with John Chrysostom, the breakpoint between this universe and ours.

Ilkhan Mongol:

A Mongol khanate, ruling Egypt and much of the Near East.

Istria:

Peninsula to the south of Trieste. A Venetian possession.

Jesolo:

The marshes to the east of Venice in the Venetian lagoon.

Koboldwerk:

Cunningly wrought mail made by dwarves.

Longi:

Lit. long—a
Casa Vecchie
which has been ennobled for many years from before the creation of the Doge.

Marangona:

The bell which rang for half an hour from dawn, to summons the Arsenalotti to work.

Marciana:

The library and art gallery across the Piazza San Marco from the Doge's Palace.

Mestre:

Mainland port of Venice.

Murano:

Island in the Venetian lagoon reknowned for glassworks.

Marquetry:

Inlaid work in wood or ivory.

Popli minuta:

Lit. small people. Workers, commoners.

Misericord:

Thin dagger intended to penetrate joints in armor.

Narenta:

Large river on the Dalmatian coast.

Negroponte:

Venetian trading outpost on the east coast of Greece.

Outremer:

orig.
Outre mer
—Beyond the Sea; i.e., The East—on the far side of the Mediterranean.

Paulines:

The faction of Christianity taking its lead from the writings of St. Paul. In this universe the dominant religious faction in the north of Europe. More heirarchical and militaristic than the Petrine faction.

Petrine:

The "gentler," more tolerant southern faction of the Church.

Piave:

River flowing into the Venetian lagoon on the east.

Polestine Forts:

Venetian defences on the river Po against invasion from the North.

Pells:

Heavy wooden posts used for sword practice.

Poignard:

Dagger.

Ritters:

Teutonic knights.

Racasse:

Scorpion fish, with highly toxic spines.

Rebec:

Stringed musical instrument.

Scaliger:

The ruling house of Verona.

Schiopettieri:

Mercenary soldiers under the control of the Lords of the Nightwatch (
Signori di Notte
)—roughly equivalent to police.

Scuolo:

Guilds.

Signoria:

The Doge, Ducal councillors, heads of the forty, de facto the government.

Småland:

Part of Sweden, near Lake Vattern.

Spleto:

Lit split—a port in Dalmatia

Squalos:

Trans:

sharks. A Jesolo marsh gang of particularly unsavory reputation.

Swabian:

From Swabia—southwestern Germany.

Seizin:

The act of taking possession, and what is so held.

Surcoat:

Loose sleeveless garment with insignia normally worn over armor.

Tintoretto:

Artist.

Trompe l'oeil:

A still life painting designed to give the illusion of reality.

Veneto:

The region of northern Italy, which includes Venice.

Veneze:

People of Venice.

Vinland:

North America.

Visconti:

The ruling House of Milan.

Water-door:

In a city of canals:

a door straight into the water.

Zianetti's:

Student tavern.