The Coming of the Horseclans

18

“When the Lady Petrina—she who had been the wife of the High Lord, Pavlos—had been exiled, all had assumed that she had journeyed to Kehnooryohs Makedonia in the north as she was a noblewoman of that land. Such, however, had not been the case. A branch of her house resided in Karaleenos and to them she had flown, to reside there for nearly fifteen years, she and her bastard daughter. Not quite a year before Alexandras’ death, Lady Petrina took seriously ill and, when she realized that she was dying, she had her relatives send for Paiohnia, widow of Pavlos’ son, Philo, and mother to Zenos—he who had at birth been confirmed Lord of Karaleenos by the strahteegohee-regents. In return for a promise that the Lady Paiohnia would take in and provide for her bastard daughter, Lady Petrina gave her certain information and swore her death-oath as to its veracity. On the basis of this information, Zenos’ mother dispatched agents to begin lengthy and exacting investigations in various quarters. Of course, as years had passed and men had died and records had been destroyed or lost, and Paiohnia and Zenos—whose mind had been that of a man, even while his body had still been that of a boy—were fully aware that any hope of success lay in the provision of overwhelming proof at the outset, and the received information must needs be sifted and weighed and placed in order. Some thirteen moons were required to effect their purpose. When all was collected and arranged, they entrusted copies of their documents to a noble of their court, a man but newly arrived from Pahlyohs Ehlahs, Lukos Treeah by name. As he was unrelated to any of the principals, they felt that he would tend to- make a better emissary than a member of any of the older families.

“When received privately by the strahteegohee, Lukos’ skillfully delivered message—backed, as it was, by irrefutable proofs—first shocked and stunned, then overjoyed the driven-to-distraction old men. Harried by Nikos, who insisted that, as they had once set precedence over custom in the case of Philos’ son, they not only could, but should do so again and set aside the claims of Alexandras’ legitimate issue, in favor of confirming him, Nikos, to the position of High Lord. Furthermore, he had broadly hinted that should they be so unwise as to foil him, he was not above raising sufficient armed might to take what they would not give! The strahteegohee had, in recent times, oft repented their rashness in disinheriting Zenos, however good an idea it had seemed at the time. Now, Lukos Treeah had saved them.

“The painstaking efforts of Zenos and his mother and their agents had produced solid substantiation of one earth-shaking fact: Alexandras and Nikos had been born bastards! On her deathbed, the Lady Petrina had sworn that never had she conceived of her husband, Pavlos, and that the true paternity of Alexandras and Nikos had been the same as that of her girl-child—namely, the Strahteegohs, Vikos Pohtahmohs. One of the strongest proofs of the brothers’ bastardy was the fact that never—never hi any living person’s memory and never in any existing records—had a Pahpahs man or woman sired or produced twin offspring, and the same was true in the noble house of which the Lady Petrina had been a scioness; on the other hand, four of Vikos’ brothers had been twins, as had his mother, his maternal grandfather, and other near relations, and his father’s father had been one of triplets. In addition, the Pahpahs stock had been mentally and physically sound, until Alexandras; but many of Vikos’ ancestors were known to have been rather peculiar. Therefore, the strahteegohee commenced preparations to announce all this to the Council of Nobles and to pave the way for exiling all of the spurious Pahpahs and inviting Zenos—proved to be Pavlos’ only legal heir—to assume his rightful status.

“But Lukos Treeah moved first! His initial lightning-maneuver was to marry the widow of Alexandras, then to have every one of the old strahteegohee murdered. As first one, then another of Alexandras’ illegitimates met with a variety of fatal ‘accidents,’ Nikos saw how the wind was blowing and took certain measures of his own. When his attempt on the lives of Lukos and his wife and adoptive children failed, Nikos took his household and retainers and possessions aboard a speedy ship and fled. ” “Now Zenos and his mother were unaware of the murders of the strahteegohee and the other developments in Kehnooryohs Ehlahs, so Lukos was able to continue putting them off for some little time—at least until all conditions were to his satisfaction. When at last he saw fit to apprise his erst-while employers of the radical changes he had effected, their forseen reactions were such as to play directly into his hands.

“Lukos Treeah was gifted with a silver tongue. It is said that he could have talked a viper out of biting him and, after a few more minutes, have persuaded said animal to make him a present of its skin! So it was that, by the tune Zenos and his mother awakened to the fact that they had been duped and bamboozled out of the game, Lukos had both the Council of Nobles and the Army and Navy solidly on the hip. When Zenos and his Karaleenoee marched across the border, Lukos had himself declared Dictator, imposed martial law, and set about jailing or killing, as suspected supporters of Zenos, all those who had opposed him in his meteoric ascent to power. Feeling his position to be secured, he then led his troops to meet Zenos’ advancing host.

“And this same Lukos, who had never before commanded troops, proved to be a military genius of the first magnitude! For nearly two weeks, he maneuvered his numerically inferior force—marching and counter-marching—until he had Zenos just where he wanted him; then he struck. In a six-hour battle, he soundly trounced the Karaleenoee. When his troops would have pursued, he held them back, re-formed them, and, after an all-night march, struck again. The orderly retreat of Zenos’ army became, after that attack, a rout. At the head of his victorious forces, Lukos pursued to and across the border, turning back only when arrows and stones, shot from the walls of Kehnooryohs Theevahs, began to fall among his vanguard.

“After that victory, there was no stopping him. By acclamation, the Army proclaimed him High Lord and the cowed Council of Nobles could only add their own acclaim in compliance. At Lukos’ death, Alexandras’ eldest, Pavlos, succeeded him, as he had been childless. Pavlos had virtually worshiped Lukos—who had indeed proved a good ruler and had been the only father Pavlos could remember—so, at his own accession, he declared his surname to be Treeah-Pohtahmohs and his family and descendants have been so known.

“Never again in his lifetime did Zenos Pahpahs of Karaleenos—truly the rightful heir to the title of.High Lord—attempt a full-scale invasion of Kehnooryohs Ehlahs, but, in the centuries since, the wars between this province and that have been frequent, bitter, and intense, though never very rewarding for either antagonist.

“Then, about a century and a half ago, there was a fratricidal struggle hi the House of Karaleenos. The losers fled to Kehnooryohs Atheenahs, where they settled under the protection of the then High Lord, Petros Treeah-Pohtahmohs. Since then, there has seldom been a time when a Pahpahs was not a high officer in the armies of Kehnooryohs Ehlahs.

“That Lord Alexandras who is coming to speak with you served the present High Lord’s father, Basil, for nearly all his life. He was a tremendously popular Strahteegohs—not only with the Ehleenoee, but with every manjack of the barbarian mercenaries, who seldom have any use for any Ehleenoee officer. When Basil died, however, Lord Alexandras’ luck ran out. Basil’s son and heir, Demetrios, could not have been less interested in affairs military; in fact, everything in his domain was considered in value only as it was useful in the promotion of his personal pleasures. A covey of officers and high nobles, Lord Alexandras among them, commenced a conspiracy to replace Demetrios with a High Lord at once less hedonistic and more militaristic. They were, in some way, found out—some say that Lord Alexandras’ own son betrayed them on a promise of leniency for his father and family. If such a promise was ever made, it certainly was not kept. Deme-trois had the would-be conspirators and their kin hunted down and put to death with incredible savagery or immured under his palace to be dragged forth and further tortured or maimed whenever he became bored. Some few escaped, fled to Karaleenos or the barbarian kingdoms or oversea, and Demetrios placed huge rewards for their capture and return to him—alive. It had been generally held that Lord Alexandras was dead, but now it seems that he never even left Kehnooryohs Ehlahs and has indeed been in hiding within less than forty leagues of Demetrios’ very capital!

“As regards the man himself, he is a throwback, almost as different from most of the Ehleenoee of today as would be Hwahlis Linsee or Djeri Hahfmun or any other of our people. As a young man, at the court of Basil—who, though infamous for his cruelties and dissipations, was all man, something his son is not—Alexandras Pahpahs stood out like a sore thumb. He was ever the direct antithesis of the fop, affecting plain clothing and unadorned, serviceable weapons and gear. He is fluent in every language and dialect used on this coast, and has a phenomenal memory for names and faces and dates and events. They say that he never forgets anything that he reads and he reads not only Ehleenokohs, but Old Merikan as well. The numbers of his defeats may be counted on the fingers of one hand and, though he is wont to make quick decisions, they are invariably sound decisions. Though he has been known to encourage or condone some rather gruesome practices in warfare, in command he is fair and eminently just. He is honest to a fault, brutally frank, and worships personal and family honor as a god. He is clean and decent and his tastes are simple and natural. He is now sixty or thereabouts.”

Milo soon discovered that Mara had been right about Lord Alexandras Pahpahs. He was so bluntly frank as to be almost disconcerting. The moment that the amenities preceding their private meeting had been attended, he launched into a series of probing questions.

“My Lord Milos [from the start, he had Ehleenicized Milo’s name], for what possible reason did your people come to this land? You are horse-nomads, you need plains and prairies, endless expanses of graze for your herds and flocks, and you’ll not find them hereabouts. This is farming country. If your purpose is simply one of despoiling this land, then moving on to another, you’ll find no ally hi me, quite the contrary, sir. The rulers of this land and people have served my kin ill; but only the rulers, never the land or the people who live on it. The people are one with me. They are as my flesh and I shall defend them to the last drop of my blood! So, then, tell me why you are come to Kehnooryohs Ehlahs.”

Milo told the old fighter as much of the truth as he felt he should know. “Lord Alexandras, for many hundreds of years has this tribe been nomadic, but no more. In the time of the gods, the sacred ancestors came from the sea—from ‘the Holy City of Ehlai beside the shining sea’—and it was long ago prophesied that, in due time, they should return to the sea and rebuild their city. When the tribe comes within sight of the sea, they shall cease to be nomads. They will but wait there for a sign, a sign that will tell them where Wind, Who blew them here, wishes them to begin their rebuilding.”

The old Ehleen nodded. ” The Prophecy of the Return’? Yes, I’ve acquired some little familiarity with the customs and legends of the western peoples, Lord Milos. However, as I remember having heard, your tribe was to be led back to the sea by an immortal god. Are you then a god, Lord Milos?”

“No, Lord Alexandras,” replied Milo. “I am but a man like you.”

The Strahteegohs eyed him shrewdly. “What is your family name, Lord Milos?”

“Though I am clanless, in my capacity here,” responded Milo “my clan is Morai.”

Lord Alexandras shook his head. “That is your name, among the nomads, Lord Milos. But you are no nomad, that much is obvious. For one thing, you’re too tall and big-boned; for another, there’s your coloring, had you a beard and civilized clothing, you could walk the streets of any city of this realm without drawing a second glance. It is quite clear, to me, you are an Ehleen! Judging by the idioms of your Ehleeneekos, I should say that you came from Kehnooryohs Makedonia and that you are noble-born. You have no need to feel shame for your present status, you know. Whatever dishonor caused you to leave your homeland has apparently been long expunged, for a stranger who lacked for honor could not have risen to your present exalted position among these people. I greatly admire the western nomads, Lord Milos. I admire their bravery, their honesty and then- inflexible code of honor. These are qualities which my own ancestors possessed, which—to my shame—their descendents have lost. I could not watch this land despoiled and its people extirpated; but even a barbarian king could rule it better than the present kakistocracy. That the new ruler should be an Ehleen of noble lineage is even better. This is why I ask you your family name, Lord Milos.”

It was Milo’s turn to shake his head. “I reiterate, Lord Alexandras, no matter what I may appear, I am no Ehleen! I am Milo Morai, War Chief of this tribe.”

The old nobleman’s features darkened and his lips became a tight line and the words which next issued from between them were clipped, short, and sharp as a new-honed blade.

“I do not believe you, Lord Milos! For some cryptic reason, you wish to delude me. And you obviously take me for a fool. I am not! Until you decide to be candid with me, I can discern no point in continuing discussion of an alliance. Now, will you tell me your Ehleen name?”

“Oh, ’Lekos, ’Lekos, ever were you pig-headed! With a bone in your teeth, you’re stubborn as a hound. I should have thought that age might have vouchsafed you some measure of wisdom,” said Mara as she advanced into the room.

She was garbed as an Ehleen noblewoman, jeweled and cosmetized, her hair elaborately coiffed. Milo had never seen her like this.

But Lord Alexandras obviously had! He paled and rapidly crossed himself with a trembling hand. “Dear sweet God!” he whispered. “Lady Mara! Lady Mara of Pohtahmohs! Am I mad? Was the wine drugged? Or are you a ghost out of the past, come to haunt me?”