The Marquis (11 page)

It was not until the third day and two days into Larsa that it was clear that people actually lived here, and on the morning of the fourth they spotted a group of riders in the distance.

‘About twenty in this group – just a small patrol. They seem in a hurry so they must have heard the cows.’ Conn reported as he observed through his telescope.

‘Can’t imagine their eagerness…’ Derryth added

Conn moved his squad of ten riders into position and waited. ‘And remember,’ he instructed, ‘no-one dies unless it is unavoidable.’

Derryth was bemused.  ‘I’ve always preferred the kill and ask questions later method – it’s safer.’

The twenty riders ran into the ambush about thirty minutes later.  They were riding, far too carelessly, following a path that followed an old water bed. As they arrived in the vicinity of Conn’s men, two things happened; a tree fell over in front of them and a firecracker landed in their midst, and as the horses ‘overreacted’, men either fell off or spent all their energy staying on their animals as Conn’s bowmen appeared on both sides.

‘Stand down or die.’ Conn called out and for added confirmation sent an arrow that landed in a tree trunk a foot in front of what appeared to be the leader of the troop.

The Larsans reached for their swords and waved them about pointlessly looking at the bowmen on the ridges. The leader of the troop looked around and yelled.

‘What is the meaning of this outrage – who are you to tell us to stand down. This is our land.’

‘That is true, but Wiga who can kill you if you don’t do as I say are telling you to stand down. So why don’t you put down your weapons so that you don’t get killed. You have much more to lose if you don’t.’

The inevitable being inevitable, the Folctoga instructed his men to put their weapons on the ground.

‘You may keep your weapons,’ Conn added as he walked down the hill, ‘just don’t go swinging them around the place. You might hurt yourselves.’ Conn waited till they had all replaced their weapons into their scabbards. ‘So who is in charge here?’

The man who had yelled stepped forward. ‘That would be me. I am Ostoric, second Folctoga of the Eaorldom of Kosala. Who are you and why have the Samrians invaded?’

‘My name is Conn, Marquis of Caledonia in Samria. This is Derryth il Halani.’

Ostoric ignored Conn and instead bowed respectfully to Derryth. ‘Welcome, friend of the Ancient Casere. We are honoured that one of the Twacuman would grace our lands. It has been many moons since your last visit.’

Derryth returned the greeting and then looked at Conn, smiling. ‘I told you that someday, somewhere, someone would appreciate me more than you.’

Ostoric looked back at Conn. ‘I ask again; why are wiga from Samria invading Larsa? We have an agreement.’

‘Not invading, passing through. We are on our way to Sytha – with cattle.’

‘Cattle? So that is what that noise is…it sounded like cattle but so much louder? How many are there?’

‘Six thousand head… I understand that this kind of thing used to happen?’

‘SIX thousand…so many.’ Ostoric was old for a Folctoga – which struck Conn as curious. He considered the question for a while before responding. ‘That is true – I remember my grandfather mentioning his grandfather speaking of it when I was a child. I understand that it was something we looked forward to – but it stopped.’

‘It seems that it stopped because the Larsa did not keep their side of the agreement.’

‘I know nothing of that. That is for Eaorls and Healdend to know about.’

‘Talking of which, if we were invading, you could do nothing to stop us.’ He looked at the group of young and old wiga. ‘Where are your strong and able?’

‘Our wiga have accompanied the Eaorl to Larsak to deal with some trouble with rebels and assassins and on some succession issues.’ He was about to continue when he reconsidered. ‘It is a complicated affair and it is best if our Eaorl’s bedda explains it to you. If you follow us back to the town, I’m sure that you will be made welcome. You and your cows.’

The Larsans collected their horses and waited for Conn to join them. They were silent as Conn and Derryth rode up on the Elfina.

The Folctoga was impressed. ‘Your wiga are the best I have ever seen, Marquis, and your horses are magnificent. Am I right to assume that you are riding the famed Elfina?’

Balios responded with a neigh, to which all the horses responded. He was obviously establishing rank.

The old timer smiled. ‘I’ll take that as a yes.’ He turned his horses, ‘Our village is about six hours away.’

Conn sent riders back to the herd master and followed the Larsan riders home. Young and old, they were obviously well trained. Their dress was the same as the Samrians, tunics and a coarse chain mail armour. Instead of linen, however, their cloth was wool. It was also obvious to Conn that they were the same tribe as the Moetians, and their Gyden would be Badb. He looked forward to having a chat to her…

Samrians seem to be largely pastoralist as well – except that the objects of their activity were sheep – and they seemed to have a range of varieties. Conn looked forward to getting his hands on some. Ostoric sent riders ahead to clear the trail for them.

The group arrived in good time at the village. It was small, spread out and almost utterly defenceless. Obviously these people had never experienced a war of any kind or not for a very long time. Roundhouses were spread out over a big area and were each surrounded by yards containing a few oxen for ploughing, some pigs and lots of sheep. Fields were either ripening, fallowing or being ploughed. They had a three field rotation system – something that Conn’s farmers had stopped doing ten years ago – for which they needed ox. Horses seemed to be limited in number. Ostoric said that the Eaorl of Anga was responsible for breeding oxen while the Eaorl of Avanti bred horses. Everyone else bred sheep.

‘Seems like almost yesterday that we farmed like this.’ one of his wiga commented.

Conn sent his men to set up tents for the night, with instructions to avoid damaging anything, while Ostoric took him to see the bedda of the absent Eaorl.  The main house was not noticeable bigger than the others and they alighted from their horses into a mix of mud and animal sewerage. Lambs were everywhere –presumedly orphans being hand raised.

Derryth looked at Conn with a troubled brow. ‘This is when I thank your boot-maker – and look to find ten men with shovels.’ He struggled through the mud into the roundhouse. ‘Am I getting that soft? You have been a very bad influence on me, Taransay. Do you think they have a shovel?’

They squelched their way into the roundhouse. The floor inside was muddy and the room was filled with smoke. Derryth coughed. ‘Yep, I am getting soft.’

The Folctoga made the introduction to the women that were the bedda of the absent Eaorl Bernmund. Although initially nervous and surprised – and extremely grateful that Conn did not have ill intent, they made the pair welcome. It was soon filled with people – obviously privacy was not a consideration and Conn and Derryth found them consulting the village, and it was some time and late before Conn had a full picture. Derryth was of course something out of a bed time story – everyone had to see him and shake his hand.

‘OK, let me see if I have this right. Every twenty or thirty years, all the Eaorls gather together with their eldest sons so that the daughter of the Healdend can chose one to be the next Healdend and her joint ruler. How many Eaorls are there?’

‘Six. When the Healdend died without an heir, they had difficulty in choosing a replacement. Finally they came up with a system of sharing the position. One of the Eaorls only had a daughter – so they elected him the first new Healdend, and it was agreed by them and Badb that the Healdend would only ever have daughters and the eldest daughter would chose to be bedda to the next Healdend – who she would choose from the eldest sons of the other Eaorls. That was a compromise against a war. Larsa had always been a peaceful nation.’

Conn nodded. That much he now understood. ‘But things have not been so peaceful over the last two hundred years – and it is not this time?’

‘No – my own son was almost killed by an arrow last summer. He was riding with his troop near the border with Samria and an arrow missed him by a few feet and killed one of his friends. They tried to find the attackers but they had raced back over the mountain. They could not identify them.’

Conn had another question. ‘Did they notice anything unusual about their horses?’

The Folctoga nodded. ‘Yes, they were golden – just like some of the horses that your men ride.’

Derryth looked at Conn. ‘That would explain why the Ancuman were taking so long on their border patrols. They have been trying to assassinate people.’

That discovery startled the bedda. ‘But they are never to come here – they are only allowed in the town. Our Eaorl had banished them from his demesne.’

‘When were they banished?’

‘Three – four years ago. A troop of Ancuman travelled through our demesne and into Samria and then back again.  Travel into Samria is forbidden by the Healdend. He was most cross to find them travelling west.’

‘Did many return?’

The bedda looked at the men. About half was the consensus. These were the assassins who killed the Healdend.

‘Are there many Ancuman in Larsa?’

One of the bedda looked sheepish. ‘There are several in my father’s donjon. I am Eberga il Avanti – to our east, it is the richest of the Eaorldoms. My family has been Healdend several times.  My grandmother’s mother was of … Axum? I believe that is the land where she came from.’

Conn and Derryth looked at each other in feigned surprise. ‘Can you tell me when your family was Healdend?’

‘Of course, Osman was the 9
th
Healdend – he ruled from 809; Omund was the 6
th
Healdend form 718, and Lir was the 4
th
Healdend – he ruled from 680. I had hoped that I would have a son who would be chosen to be Healdend – but I have not been blessed with a boy. I have a single daughter.’

They parted ways with the bedda and returned to their camp. The next morning Conn assisted the herd master to negotiate the cost of their passage through the demesne. Conn expanded his gene pool by buying some of their cows and horses at prices greater than what they paid to buy Samrian cows. He wanted to buy sheep but no one was interested in droving them as well. Everyone went away happy.

The old map they had indicated that they would now go north – over the range. Conn wanted to stay on this side.

The Folctoga shook his head. ‘The ancient road is over the mountains. There is only one way up to the highlands and that is through the Larsa side of the mountains. I heard that there is a river that comes down from the highlands into the demesne of the Eaorl of Malla, and the cattle make their way up beside the river. I have never heard of anyone trying to go via Meria. We have nothing but trouble with them – the Merians are uncivilized and raid across the border all the time looking for theow. A special demesne to the east of Avanti – the March of Rasadi – was even established by the Healdend to deal with the problem.’

So, despite his misgivings, and with the old Folctoga in tow, they headed north for the Eaorldom of Matya; a full two weeks ride north for them and the herd.

Having crossed the mountain, they headed downhill towards the ocean, tracing the course of a river. Conn split his wiga into two groups; he didn’t think the herd was in danger but he wasn’t certain so kept two hundred wiga under Brys’ command with the herd, and a single company with him. He went on ahead, having sent a messenger ahead two days previous.

Despite the messenger, the people of Matya were nervous about the arrival of the fyrd; they hid in their buildings and peered around the doorframes.

Conn looked at the Folctoga. ‘I don’t think your messenger did a good job.’

He smiled. ‘I don’t know how anyone can say – there are several hundred big men on big horses with big swords coming your way – don’t be afraid! Oh, and they are followed by over six thousand cows.’

Derryth readily agreed with him. ‘He has a point. Perhaps you should send a small man on a small cow to let them know.’

Conn sighed. ‘Sometimes you are just no help at all.’

Leaving the cavalry outside the village to set up camp, they started to ride into the village. Before long Conn found a small scruffy girl walking alongside the stallion. She at least wasn’t scared.

She looked up. ‘Hello, my name is Beowen. My father is the Eaorl.’

‘Hello Beowen. My name is Connor.’

‘That is a big horse. He is very beautiful…’

‘And happy that you think so. Would you like to ride with me?’

‘Yes please; that would be very nice.’

Balios stopped without instruction and Conn stooped down and picked up the small girl, and sat her on front of the saddle. She broke into a big smile. Derryth rode beside Conn and she introduced herself to him as well. When they arrived in the centre of the village, he set her down and she waved and ran off.

Derryth watched her run away. ‘There is something unusual about that girl. I can’t quite work it out.’

‘She is certainly not scared of us. Makes a change.’