Return to Fanglith

SEVENTEEN

A Norman sergeant, wearing helmet and hauberk, let us into Count Roger's castle at Mileto. I'd never been in a Norman-built stone castle, so I couldn't compare this with one of them. But it was a lot different from the timber castles that were usual in Normandy. The stone defensive wall was so thick that the small gate we went through was like an inky tunnel.

The grounds inside were like a big country estate with a wall around it. Arno told me it had been built for a Byzantine governor. There were no lights, not even a lamp by a door, and the moon was all but down, hidden by a hill. But even by simple starlight, the buildings were graceful, more beautiful than any I'd seen before on Fanglith.

I couldn't tell how many buildings there were. Quite a few. Some had wings, and courtyards of their own. There were gardens with privacy walls, and trees for fruit and shade. I could smell something in flower. But the walls had corner towers, one much larger than the others, to remind me that war was a way of life on Fanglith.

Arno had told me that Judith of Evreux, Roger's wife, really loved the place. I could understand that, especially if her father's castle in Normandy was like the castles I'd seen there. Arno didn't say so, but I got the idea that he liked this better, too.

We headed for the big stone tower. After Arno had warned the squires to say nothing about what had happened that night, they took the horses away to rub them down and feed them. Arno, Brislieu, and I went into the tower. Our "bedroom" was the large dark hall, lit by a single lamp-a bowl of oil with a cloth wick and a flickering small flame. I could make out other men sleeping-knights and sergeants no doubt. After each of us had gathered together his own little heap of the dry hay piled in a corner, Arno and Brislieu stripped off their hauberks. Then we wrapped ourselves in our cloaks and lay down to sleep.

They didn't smell nearly as bad as the Norman knights I'd been among in Normandy, or the monks in Provence, as far as that was concerned. What dominated my nostrils was the hay-a clean, pleasant smell. I wondered if they'd learned about baths in this new country they'd conquered.

Arno:

It had been a long enough day, riding in to Reggio, arranging for a ship with a horse hold, rinding and capturing the star man, and riding back to Mileto. But my mind was roiling like a kettle over a fire, too full of thoughts just then for sleep.

The star man! He was ignorant, carried no sword, spoke inadequately, had only a vague idea what to say or do. Even with his sorcerous weapons, which on two occasions I'd deprived him of, and with his sister overhead in their sky boat, he should have been dead long before this. Instead, since the first hour I'd known him, he'd gone from one dangerous situation to another, slipping through each as if, in truth, he was guided by some angel, or the Holy Spirit Himself.

I remembered my old training master, Walter Ironfist, telling us that the only lasting luck was the luck you made for yourself. And while I accepted that, the knowledge did not seem particularly useful. But in the case of this Larn, certainly his luck was beyond mere chance.

I could wish I'd never met him; yet I had. I seemed drawn to him, and despite myself I liked him. And if he, in some way, created luck, one might do well to share a project with him.

Once I'd seen Sicily and come to know it a bit, seen how wealthy Saracen princes lived, and Jewish and Byzantine merchants, I too wanted wealth. And it seemed to me that I could best become wealthy by being a merchant. Fighting, living in the saddle, sleeping among the rocks with one's hauberk on, saddle for pillow, hand on sword hilt and one eye open-it all has a certain flavor. Yet while I admit to relishing it, it was a life I would willingly sacrifice for wealth.

Obtaining wealth, however, takes more than sacrifice, else there'd be far fewer poor. But I am nothing if not smart-smart even for a Norman. I knew I could learn to be a merchant. I could even see how to begin, for here was a great demand for war horses, while in Normandy there was a good supply. Even the Prankish animals were adequate, and at a lesser distance. And like every Norman knight, I knew destriers; knew them well. All I needed was money to buy them with, and the luck and will and toughness to get them here from the north.

The money to start with, I obtained from the Battle of Misilmeri, where we'd killed Saracens by the thousands-killed them till those who yet lived surrendered to us. We'd been reeling from exhaustion by then, hardly able to stay upright in the saddle. Our arms ached, seemingly beyond our power to raise for another blow.

Nonetheless we'd dismounted. The more experienced among us summoned the energy to begin searching the dead, and as the rest of us watched, our exhaustion was forgotten. Those of us recently from Normandy could hardly believe the coins and gems the Saracen knights carried in their purses to ransom themselves with if captured. We cut pieces from their robes, made bags of them, and emptied their purses into the bags. And the rings of gold and silver, many set with precious stones! How many fingers were cut free of how many dead hands that day! We sergeants and knights chose the richest-looking bodies for our efforts, then left the poorer to the Lombard mercenaries and went to the quarters assigned to us.

And while, by Saracen standards, or Byzantine, or Jewish, we were not wealthy, any one of us was wealthier in gold, silver, and gems than almost anyone in Normandy.

I knew then how I could buy horses.

But that was not the end of it. For Roger had seen my strength and prowess in the battle-indeed, had heard of me from skirmishes earlier-and I was knighted. Beyond that, his brother Guiscard levied an unbelievable ransom on our prisoners, knowing it would be paid. And when in fact it was paid, Guiscard, royal in fact and power if not in title, distributed it among his army. I began to see myself not only with a great horse herd, but also sleeping on a soft bed, on silk sheets, with slaves and servants to tend my needs.

When I was able to obtain an audience with Roger, and tell him my plan to raise horses, he approved at once. For in every skirmish we were likely to have destriers killed or maimed, and their like were hard to come by in the south. And our Norman style of fighting depended on their size and strength and ferocity as much as on our heavier mail, our stouter swords. With our ranks closed and our great war horses between our thighs, we Normans are the greatest fighting men of all, not even excepting Varangians or Swabians, for all their fierceness and great frames.

If I could help solve the problem of enough good horses, Roger told me, then he would absolve me of the fealty I'd sworn him and let me go my way. I felt myself fortunate in having had such a noble lord, and in fact I was.

Then, on my way back to Normandy, I'd met the star man beside the road that comes down from the Cenis Pass into the valleys of Savoie. I could barely understand his speech, which was Provengal poorly spoken. He had seemed unarmed and as innocent as a girl- almost too innocent to survive beneath heaven. But then I learned what powers he held, glimpsed what force I might gain from him, and suddenly the life of a merchant seemed small and trivial. While wealth, it seems, was after all only part of what I wanted. Now I could see a kingdom, even an empire, waiting to be grasped by getting his weapons and skyboat into my hands. I had but to wait-bide patiently and strike when the time was right.

But the time was never right. And at last it had seemed to me that my best chance was to deal honorably with the star folk-Larn and his father and the great wolf that seemed to think and speak like a man. And finally I had it in my hands-the great warship of the sky, taken from their enemies by might of Norman arms, and by the star folk's own cunning and daring, which even a Norman could admire.

And then that great fool, Roland de Falaise, destroyed the warship, and with it all our knights and sergeants except Brislieu, whom I had sent on an errand. I know it was Roland who did it; no other could have been so perverse. The warship had burst in the air with a force unbelievable.

With that, my dream of empire had been in tatters. It seemed then that my only chance was to take the skyboat from the star folk. But my attempt was without cunning or force, ineffective, and my offer of fealty to them if they would take me with them to their world was both ill-advised and rejected. I was back to horses again, and to my earlier dream of being a merchant.

In time I almost convinced myself again that it was all I truly wished. And indeed I made much progress. Then I had eaten supper in the Greek inn near the cathedral, overheard the captain's tale, and found the star man once more.

And there it was again: The dream, the possibility, of empire! If I could gain their skyboat and their weapons, and use them cleverly…

Larn:

As late as it was, I didn't feel sleepy at first. For one thing, my thighs and rear end weren't used to riding horseback. And for another, I was chilly. But mainly I had stuff on my mind.

It seemed to me that as smart as Arno was, he wasn't in a position to be my number-one man on Fanglith. He wasn't the native leader I needed. The kind of man I should be looking for was someone already established in power. His Count Roger maybe, or even better, the duke, Robert Guiscard. Those guys already had armies, and ruled pieces of real estate that apparently were pretty big and important for a planet like Fanglith, where communication and transportation were so primitive. Give them communicators and air support and let their enemies see a demonstration by a turret blaster, and they wouldn't have to fight to conquer.

I shifted on my grass pile, trying to get more comfortable. Arno, I told myself, would be my front man, my introduction to Roger or Robert.

"It sounds as if you're getting it all sorted out."

Deneen's voice in my ear startled me, and I heard her laugh. "We're sitting about a hundred yards above you with the windows opaqued. There are so few people awake down there that Bubba can follow your thoughts. He's been giving us a running summary, "I've been thinking about possible rescue plans," she went on. "If you'd like, I can put Tarel down on the roof of the building you're in; there's a trapdoor in it. He could take a stunner and have a remote in his ear, and Bubba and I could guide him in finding you."

I looked at that. "Bubba, can you read Arno's thoughts?" I asked with my mind. "It would help to know more about what he's thinking."

There was a long pause, a minute or longer. Bubba's form of speech was hard to understand over a communicator, and I could picture him giving his answer to Deneen.

"Arno's still awake," she said at last, "but Bubba hasn't been paying much attention to him. He's not used to Norman French, or to the nonverbal mix in Arno's thoughts. The general tone doesn't feel threatening, but if you want, he'll monitor and see what he gets."

I knew that Bubba does better with people whose thought style he's used to. "Fine," I said. "If Arno's still awake, Bubba can monitor him for a while, and if he learns anything I ought to know about, tell me.

"Meanwhile, let's leave things the way they are-at least for now. I'll play things by ear, and you can bail me out later if necessary. I'm pretty sure Arno plans to take me to Sicily with him, and that's where I need to go anyway. That's where Robert and Roger are."

That's about all that needed saying just then. We "talked" a minute longer just for company, but I knew it was hard work for Bubba, so we ended off. Then I got myself as comfortable as I could and waited, scratching, for sleep. It seemed to me that, in spite of the lice and fleas, I'd rather be down here than up there: it was more interesting.

Now there was a different viewpoint for me! I was learning to relax and enjoy the situation. Give me a little time and maybe I'd make a good adventurer after all!