The Bretwalda (The Casere Book 4) (30 page)

‘No; it’s an emergency. Steinvi would like your assistance on clothes – also some for her mother and aunt please.’

‘We have some prepared for them all.’ Disetha indicated that Steinvi should go in.

She looked at Conn incredulously. ‘You knew I’d ask?’

He nodded, ‘If not now, you would in three hours’ time. There are some things about women even I understand.’

It had been hard to get Steinvi to interact much with Disetha or any of the others. Disetha was even her kin but she refused to be drawn in to their group. Hopefully tomorrow things might be different. Conn understood that clothes could have that effect.

~oo0oo~

The evening was not just for fun; it was to bring in the new order; once the guests had been seated – some of the Jarls surprised at the seating arrangements again, and even more surprised at the guest list. The banners that draped down the newly limed walls gave a hint as to the new priorities. As well as the now seven Jarls, places were provided for the banners of the Guilds. At the front, three banners lay unfurled.

The herald did the first introduction. ‘Citizens of Alwa, stand for our host tonight; the High-Steward of Alwa, Volund, Jarl il Hatusa, and his bedda, Kelina, heiress of Hatusa.’ Much clapping and confusion resulted.

The guests were called in next – from the low to the high; starting with the heads of the new Guilds. Conn had even arranged for them to have the standard guild tunic from Meshech. They were thrilled. They then starting with Commodore Sir Njil followed by Derryth, Wilric. The others Twacuman declined to attend but Elfrea and Aga agreed – and the sight of Twacuman women in fine silk gowns caused quite a commotion. They looked magnificent.

Asbera was delighted with her handiwork. She was standing with her father watching the guests get called in. She was beaming.

‘Papa, now I understand why you enjoy messing with people’s heads.’

Asvi il Jamut and her daughter were next to enter. Steinvi smiled at him as they entered. She wanted to walk in with Colonel Vigbert il Axum, because she liked his uniform and thought it complemented her dress, but her mother insisted that she should not enter alone. Miffed, she nonetheless agreed.

‘Colonel Farrun il Nobatia, his bedda Vilotta il Calpe, and daughter Arna, Jarl of Sala in Saba.’ Then it was ‘Colonel Vigbert il Axum; and his aide-de-camp, Major Hamund il Uman.’ The son of the Jarl, Hamund was grateful for the acceptance – as well as the nice uniform.

After that, ‘His excellence Conn il Taransay, the Marquis of Kerch, Jarl of Mersin, Eaorl of…, Steward of …, and Thane of … (the list was long but Conn thought it suitable to impress the locals), and his bedda Vila il Jamut.’

A couple of days previous, Conn had gained three bedda – but he was now down to one. It transpired that the Jarl of Ridu was not a close confidante of the previous Aebeling by accident – he also happened to be cuckolding him on the side. The two girls Kolata had were very likely the Jarl’s as well because she received very little attention from the Aebeling. Conn could understand why – Vila was extremely sensual and Ketilerna was wanton. When approached, he was happy to release Kolata il Siri to the Jarl.

All the women were dressed in fashions unseen in Alwa – silks of bold colours, choli that was extravagant and sensuous, with sari that enticed and enhanced, over lehenga that weren’t meant to bend in. With her outright beauty and overt sexuality, Vila bought up the line with jaw dropping elegance. Conn’s children had done her proud. Whilst the boys were dressed in the standard military tunic, Conn wore a heavily embroided and luxurious Achkan coat over a cotton trousers and highly polished leather boots. The hand embroidery alone highlighted the cost of the garments.

The Herald now called in the folgere. ‘In the name of Ishtar,’ he boomed, ‘I call Eldwen, beloved of Ishtar.’ As the chief folgere, she got to sit at the head table with Volund. She was followed in by the other ten – and the arrival of the group in their long silken white gowns – largely transparent but tonight in two layers, provided a surreal ambience to the evening. One of the new folgere was Ketilerna il Sepinu. Formally bedda to the Aebeling of Alwa, after a night with Conn she felt herself called to Ishtar and Conn released her to be folgere. Sepinu was a demesne in Himyar.

With the additional of several others from the wiga and even from the families of Jarls and Thanes, there were eleven folgere in the castle now. Conn had gotten to know some of them over the last few days while others were initiated by Farrun or the Jarls. It was a hard job, but someone had to do it, Conn kept telling himself.

The last to be called was the designated heir – and the herald had to read his pedigree back to the beginning of the nation of Alwa. Finally, he called ‘The future Healdend, Sarun il Taransay, son of Kutidi il Alwa, with his companions Gelef il Masila and Sigdis il Igili.’

The girls were beautiful dressed for eleven year olds; embroided kurta over tight fitting churidar styled pants. Sigdis positively beamed – not because of her clothes but because of learning that was no longer theow – the Witan had decreed that anyone born of a theow to a Jarl or Thane was no longer to be considered a theow – and no one in the future would be born a theow. She was now simply the daughter of a Jarl – just the same as Gelef.

As Sarun entered the room, the last banner unfurled; a new banner for the house of Alwa – the crossed spears, sitting on a sun. All of those of the house of Conn would eventually have that sun sign in their new crests.

As he walked to the front of the room, Eldwen stood and waited for him. She asked him to stop and like the previous times with Ishtar, she fashioned a gold Torc from one of the many gold bracelets she wore and placed it around his neck. Conn now knew why they wore so much gold – the standard gift for consulting with a folgere was a gold bracelet. Officially accepted as Healdend by his Gyden, he now had to wait four years before he could be initiated and then rule in his own right. Nonetheless, he was now similarly adorned as his father, so he was on his way.

Chapter 12
The Jarl of Mersin

‘So what is the plan?’ Derryth asked. ‘I do like to see a good plan unfold – or unwind, whatever the case might be...’ It was seven days after the feast, and they were at sea, having just left Alwa-jo and said their goodbye. ‘Sometime the unwinding has better results than the unfolding…’

They were sailing up the east coast of Alwa, and it would take longer than planned as they had agreed to drop in and accept the hospitality of the Jarls of Kelan and Rezo on the way. They had a map of Mersin in front of them, created by his cartographers based on all existing maps in the Alwa-jo library. The island itself was huge – about forty miles by one hundred, and it had a huge mountain rage smack down the middle. Consequently, it was hard to attack and easy to defend.

Conn had done his research. ‘We are going to circle the island with all our ships – then I want a careful barrage of targets on the south side – nothing that is important obviously – but enough to draw their attention. We are going to land here.’ Conn pointed to the north east point. ‘No-one will expect us there.’

Derryth agreed. ‘I image that you are right – it is isolated and inaccessible. Perfect place to land several hundred horses and wiga. I just don’t know how you think you are going to get out of there – also if they do expect us to land there, we’ll be sitting ducks.’

‘It will be slow but we will be safer there than anywhere else – we can be on land before they have a chance to regroup.’

They entered the small harbour in the middle of the night; a new moon, and few whaleboats with a fifty men and Twacuman to see in the dark. Despite the pitch black conditions, it was however a perfect harbour, deep and easy to access, but it was right up against the mountains that protected it. The first to land was a company of Twacuman with Wilric leading. They immediately disappeared into the woods. From the docks, Conn, Farrun and Derryth slowly headed for the main inn in the small fishing town.

No guards, Conn walked into the bar. His arrival had the kind of effect that he always desired.

‘What the Gyden are you doing here?’

Conn looked around to see an old friend – if you could call him that – but one with more luck than he should have. He had not been killed by Conn on three occasions already. It was Geirnarr il Axum; released alive in Rakia, didn’t get killed in Larsa, saved from execution in Samria, and here he was – the barkeep in a fishing town on a small island in Alwa.

The girl behind the bar was the girl that had also not been killed in Samria – Conn had let her go free as well.

Some men at the bar reached for their swords but Geirnarr waved them down.

‘Quit now if you want to live – I’ve seen this man take apart three men ten times better than you – and I don’t want your decapitated heads rolling around my floor.’

A big burly guy stepped forward. ‘He is nothing – I can take him.’

‘Very well,’ Geirnarr continued, ‘I’ll bet this inn on the fact you won’t last fifteen seconds. You can have my children as theow – and even my bedda. What are you giving – except your life?’

The big guy stepped back a step. ‘All of that for fifteen seconds?

Geirnarr looked in Conn’s direction. ‘You are quite right – I misspoke – he looks annoyed. I’ll make it ten seconds.’

‘Ten seconds? You really think he can kill me in ten seconds?’

‘You are an idiot – I don’t think he will – I
know
he will kill you in less than ten seconds.’

‘You are just being silly.’ Nonetheless, he turned around and headed back to his chair, shaking his head. Conn walked up to the bar.

‘You turn up in the strangest places…’

‘I turn up in the strangest places!’ He was exasperated. ‘This is a small forgotten fishing town on a small forgotten island in the middle of Kishdah – which is lunars by sea from where you are supposed to be – and you say “I” turn up in the strangest places. I was just trying to keep away from you!’

‘Now that you put it like that. Some of your best please.’

‘I think you mean least bad. So what are you doing here?

‘I’m the new Jarl of Mersin. Hadn’t you heard?’

‘Remember I said “forgotten island”. No, I hadn’t heard. And as silly as it sounds – I believe you. So I presume that you are invading the island? I did hear that there are a lot of ships off the south coast – no one has seen them but they come in at night and bombarded the villages – their range is good but their aim is poor … their aim isn’t poor at all, is it. You have been distracting people again. I knew it all seemed stupid.’

Conn tried to drink the wine. ‘This is horrible. Surely you have something better.’

Geirnarr shook his head. ‘Sadly no – that is the best we have. Grapes grow well here but the varieties we have make poor wine. They are good to eat, but...’

‘So why don’t I get some of Aeaea’s best brought in from my ship?’

‘You have some of Aeaea’s wine?’ This was from a man sitting at the back of the room. They had been listening. ‘That is the best I’ve drunk.’

‘I do. I’ll send for it immediately – I have a few skins left.’ Conn went to the door and issued instructions. Within twenty minutes, a dozen Twacuman carried skins of wine into the room. ‘Now, I’ve had a few of my own varieties brought in as well – perhaps you might like to compare.’

Conn opened up a skin and handed it to Geirnarr. ‘This one is on me.’ The barman went and filled up everyman’s mug. In courtesy they didn’t drink until Conn had his cup full as well. As he took a mouthful, so did they. The big man almost whimpered; the delight in drinking a good quality wine after so much time was better than fornication. They drank slowly to relish every mouthful – they fought hard to not quaff down the entire mug.

When they were finished, Conn opened a skin from his estate in Haran – it was considered one of his best – but this wasn’t the best vintage. ‘Try this one – I think you’ll approve.’

Geirnarr took the skin and each had a mug replenished to the brim. Conn was last again – as host. ‘I would like you to consider the bouquet, and the texture of the wine as it hits your mouth; also the first taste and then the second. I think you will find it quite different.’

One man actually cried tears as he savoured his first mouthful. ‘This is amazing’ he sobbed, ‘it is better than Aeaea’s wine. I would sell my children for a skin of this wine.’ Other yelled at him not to cry into his wine – the salt would ruin it.

Their mugs empty, Conn opened up his third variety. ‘I have given you wines that are red in colour – this is a new technique. The wine is white. I’m sure that you will not be disappointed.’ The skins served all around, the anticipation was palpable, as they waited for Conn’s mug to be filled.

Conn sipped – the flavour was rich and sweet – it had aged perfectly. It was like nectar from a bee hive – only better. The reaction was silent; they sipped, and then they sipped again. Finally, one took a mouthful and rolled it around his mouth; his eyes rolling in his head in ecstasy. ‘There is nothing better anywhere than this wine.’

The man who had burst into tears previously, burst out sobbing again. ‘I have already sold my children – how will I afford this wine?’

Serious now, Conn posed the question. ‘Get me around the mountain in the shortest possible time, and I’ll get you a ship for free. You can all drink it or sell it – up to you.’

Geirnarr laughed. ‘Get you and …?’

‘Five hundred horses…”

‘And where are they?’

‘Outside… our at least several hundred are. Let’s go and look.’

Conn led the way outside as the fifty men – still sipping their white wine – filed along behind him. Light was starting to appear but the sun would be some time away. The small town was packed with wiga on horses; as yet another ship silently slid into the docks to unload the cargo of men and animals.

‘Well, I’ll be damned. I didn’t know anyone could do that at night.’ One said as he watched the animals file through the town.

The big guy who wanted to kill him earlier walked up to him. ‘A cargo boat of wine you say – but as Jarl won’t you kick us all out?’

‘Do you have any Axum folgere here?’

He shook his head. ‘There was a couple by accident but they met with accidents – I think one jumped off a cliff. Really sad event. None visit anymore – don’t understand why.’

‘Then you can all stay – there is room for any who want to work.’

‘Very well,’ the big guy nodded, ‘I’ll get you around the mountain. Do you want slow and easy, or fast and treacherous?’

‘Fast and treacherous sound about right.’

He raced off to get his horse and as they waited Conn asked Geirnarr who was in charge.

‘He calls himself the Thane. I think you know him – we have often had interesting discussions about our time in Meshech and Sytha. We normally end up crying but I’m not sure if it the wine or the stories. Both are very sad.’

‘Really – who is that?’

‘Torvarr il Axum; He was Folctoga under Fallon in Rakiak.’

‘I remember Torvarr – I have always been curious as to what happened to you all. Anyway – until the next time.’

‘No way; I’m coming with you – I want to see how this all ends.’

Their guide had returned and he then led Conn and Derryth and five hundred riders a merry old trail up and around the mountain; without the Elfina, Conn wasn’t really sure if they would have made it. By evening they were looking down over the valley that was the main town of Mersin. The next morning, they headed down the valley; it was clear that it was less than twenty miles to the coast, and the smoke from the settlements could be seen as it wafted up into the air. By midday they had not encountered anyone – aside from a few cotters who quickly realized that it was wiser not to be outside.

Conn’s instructions had changed. His schooners were now in plain sight off the coast – and it certainly was a treacherous coast line, but that didn’t mean that the Thane and his fyrd weren’t vigilant in the study of their enemy.

Scouts indicated that a hundred horses were off to the right and about two hundred were left of their current position.

Farrun had his own fyrd of two hundred riders and he took them to the right. Conn headed left, and after thirty minutes of riding they got into a position between the Thane and his town. He would be heading back this way any time soon as the schooners were tracking that way. Conn made sure by firing a flare arrow into the air.

‘I hate waiting.’ Derryth added as they sat on their horses.

‘You were complaining about riding a while ago. Maybe you are just getting too old for this.’

‘Maybe we both are.’

The sound of galloping horse broke their conversation and as soon as the riders saw them, the column screeched to a confused mess. The fact that Conn still waited confused the riders and made their formation longer to achieve. Finally, they sat on their sweating horse about a hundred yards from Conn’s line. The head rider pushed through the line and observed his enemy. Giving instructions, he rode forward until he was fifty yards away.

He yelled. ‘Geirnarr, what is going on?’

‘You have been invaded – they took my town last night.’

‘How did they get over the mountain so quickly?’

‘They bribed us. The Marquis can be very persuasive.’

‘Fools – all of you. I …’ He stopped. ‘Did you say the Marquis?

He rode forward until he could see the faces of those under helmets and gambeson. The brown tabards with the golden sun should have given it away.

‘Well, I’ll be damned. Is there no place that you don’t interfere?’

‘Apparently not,’ Conn answered. ‘It has been a long time, Torvarr.’

The Folctoga nodded. ‘Indeed – but not so long that I have forgotten. Is Kutidi well?’

‘Yes; she is in Aeaea. Bedda to the Jarl.’

‘I’m glad. I was fond of her.’ He looked at Conn’s fyrd. ‘I presume you have more?’

‘Another two hundred taking the other fyrd and five hundred on ships out there if I need them.’

‘I see. And exactly why are you here? I thought we had escaped the Bretwalda and the folgere – and you.’

‘I’m the new Jarl of Mersin. I invaded Alwa and have put my son on the seat as Healdend and got this as my reward.’

‘Seriously? A Priecuman is Healdend of Alwa?’

‘Only half Priecuman – his mother is Kutidi. Did you know she was the Aebeling’s cousin?’

‘No I did not. So you are the new Jarl?’ He looked around, firstly at his dishevelled group of riders and then Conn’s very impressive line and horses and well armoured archers. ‘I know when I’m beaten – again – so what do you want us to do.’

‘Let’s head back into the town and we can discuss it.’

Torvarr instructed that some riders should go ahead to clear the way while the rest should follow along behind after thirty minutes. He rode with Conn, and they were followed by his fyrd.

‘So tell me, Marquis, what are you actually doing in Kishdah? Even you wouldn’t just invade Alwa. There has to be more – and I am sure that someone is not enjoying the experience.’

‘It is a long story.’