The Crown of the Conqueror

III

Smoke drifted across the setting sun, the haze rising from nearly a hundred chimney holes and bonfires. Half-dug into the hillside, their turf roofs extending over stone walls, the houses of the Linghar were squat dwellings, with narrow doors and glassless, horizontal slit windows. There was no wall or palisade; the only obstacles were the animal pens fenced with woven reed taken from the river bank at the bottom of the long slope.

It was not the homecoming Gelthius had dreamed of; nor the one he had expected.

For this first time since becoming a legionnaire, he felt uncomfortable in his armour and uniform. Sat in the back of the abada cart, spear and shield stowed beside him, he was keenly aware of his tanned legs jutting from under his kilt, and the weight of his breastplate. He looked at the other three legionnaires in the wagon: Muuril, Gebriun and Loordin; Haeksin was up front steering the cart.

"How are you feeling, boss?" said Muuril. "Good to be home?"

Gelthius said nothing, still uncertain about his position with the others. They seemed to have taken his sudden promotion in their stride, but Gelthius was under no doubts that he was the least experienced of all the men. Muuril especially gave Gelthius problems; three days ago he had been Gelthius's sergeant, now it was Gelthius that was in charge. Muuril had been nothing but supportive, but Gelthius wondered whether the sergeant would really follow orders if it came down to it.

They were watchmates above everything else, and Gelthius hoped that counted for something; which was why he had brought them with him on this mission. On First Captain Anasind's suggestion, he had picked the men he trusted most. Gelthius hoped they trusted him just as much.

"Hey up, they've seen us," said Haeksin.

Families were coming out of the houses, women and children sheltering behind their menfolk as they gathered on the road. There were spears and shields in the crowd, but as the cart rumbled to a stop a few dozen yards away, Gelthius sensed curiosity rather than anger.

"Gear up," said Muuril, grabbing his spear.

"Not yet," said Gelthius, laying a hand on the sergeant's wrist. Muuril's expression conveyed his doubts on this course of action, but he let go of his weapon.

Gelthius hauled himself over the side of the cart, landing ankledeep in a puddle. Cursing his Askhan sandals, he trudged up the hill, mud spattering his naked legs. He raised a hand in greeting.

"Is Naraghlin still in charge?" he called out. "Is he here?"

There was no reply from the sullen tribesmen, who had now formed a solid line from one edge of the road to the other, between the two outermost houses. Gelthius looked along the row of bearded faces, recognising most, though unable to recall many names.

He realised he had spoken in crude Askhan. He tried again with the Linghan tongue. The tribesmen exchanged looks and peered at Gelthius with renewed interest. One of them stopped forward, a young man not long out of his teens. Although much older than when he had last been here, Gelthius recognised him as Kalsaghan, Naraghlin's son.

"Who's asking?" said the youth. He stood with feet braced apart, shield held up to his left, a short spear in his right hand. His face was clean shaven, but his hair hung in long braids to his chest, bound with leather thongs. Older men closed protectively around him, spears ready.

"It's me, Gelthius." He pulled off his helmet so that they could better see his face. "Where's Naraghlin? I need to speak with him."

"Look at you, all dressed up in your Askhan costume," said Kalsaghan. "With your shaved head and your bare face, you look like a child."

"Rules," said Gelthius. "Come on, I need to speak with your father."

"He has nothing to say to you." This was from a red-headed warrior standing to Kalsaghan's left; a bear of a man Gelthius knew to be the chieftain's younger brother, Mannuis. "Go away."

"If I go away, the next time you see me, there'll be ten thousand Askhan arseholes with me," said Gelthius.

This was greeted with laughter.

"Really?" said Kalsaghan. "Ten thousand? They would be a long way from home if there were."

Gelthius tucked his helmet under his arm and strode up the track, stopping just a few paces from the line of warriors.

"It's true," he said. "Yes, they're a long way from home, and they're itching for a fight. Don't give them one. Stop playing around; tell me where I'll find Naraghlin. He's not gone to Carantathi with the others, has he?"

"I'm here, Gelthius."

The aging chieftain pushed his way through the crowd, wrapped in a thick cloak of a deep golden bear fur. He was about the same age as Gelthius, but his hair was a shock of white, his long beard the same. Bushy eyebrows stuck out from under the rim of his helmet and he used a staff for balance as he hobbled closer. There was suspicion in the chieftain's eyes.

"What are you doing here, Gelthius?"

"I come with a message from King Ullsaard of Greater Askhor," said Gelthius. He realised how grand that sounded as soon as he said it, and was not surprised to see several warriors curling their lips with derision. Naraghlin did not sneer. He simple nodded in a dejected way and waved for Gelthius to approach with a heavily veined hand.

"Couldn't make the council of chieftains," Naraghlin admitted with a sigh. He regarded Gelthius with rheumy eyes. "Too damned old for the journey."

"It's probably better that you didn't leave," said Gelthius. "It hasn't gone well for those tribes that had nobody to strike a deal with Ullsaard."

"So I've heard. Tell your friends that they can enter. Have them take the cart up to- "

The chieftain was interrupted by an astonished cry to Gelthius's left. A woman broke through the mass of warriors, greying hair fluttering as she ran across the road. She stopped short of Gelthius, staring at him with eyes wide in disbelief.

"Maredin?" Gelthius stared back at his wife, taken aback by her sudden appearance.

He had been so apprehensive about meeting Naraghlin, the thought of this reunion had been pushed from his mind; yet it had occupied his thoughts ever since the Thirteenth had marched duskwards from Magilnada at the start of the summer. Seeing her face, he had no idea what to say.

"What do you look like, Gelthius?" she snapped. "Dressed up like one of them Askhans and all."

Gelthius had to laugh. Ignoring her scowl, he threw his arms around Maredin and pulled her into a tight hug. Tears rolled down his cheeks.

"Never knew this day would come or not," he told her, burying his face in her hair, almost crushing her.

Maredin wriggled out of his grasp and glared at him, hands on hips. Gelthius recognised her scolding stance and stepped back out of instinct, one hand raised protectively.

"I suppose you'll be wanting something to eat, and a drink, no doubt," she said. "Is that right? Carted off by that debt warden, no word of explanation, and gone for more years than I can count. Now you're back, are you?"

"Don't start," Gelthius warned. "I will tell you everything, but I have to talk with Naraghlin first. Please, my love, wait for me at the house."

For a moment it looked like Maredin was going to argue. She contented herself with an angry huff and whirled away back into the amused crowd without saying another word.

"Wives, eh?" said Naraghlin, leaning on his staff as if the weight of the world bore down on his thin shoulders. "Still, you miss them when they're gone, don't you?"

Gelthius waved for the other legionnaires to drive the cart into the town. Muuril was the first to step down.

"What's happening, captain?" the sergeant asked, eyes narrowed at the Salphors. "Are we good?"

"Not sure yet," Gelthius replied in Askhan. "There's a lodging house up the next left fork in the road. Send the cart up there and tell the others to stay with it. I'm going to the chieftain's hall to speak with Naraghlin. Follow us."

"Yes, captain," Muuril said, smartly rapping his fist against his breastplate in salute. This elicited more laughter from the Salphors. The sergeant snapped a few orders to the men in the cart and fell in beside Gelthius.

The crowd parted as Naraghlin and Gelthius headed up the slope towards the summit, where the long hall of the elders stood. Two columns flanked the doorway, their tops carved in the likeness of a bear and a wolf. An embroidered banner hung between them, sodden with rain and tattered with age, depicting a youthful warrior facing a snarling wolf armed with nothing more than a knife. Beside the warrior reared a gigantic bear with a golden pelt. It was meant to be Naraghlin; an illustration of a remarkable feat of might from his childhood. Gelthius snorted, suppressing a laugh at seeing it.

He remembered that day, in the woods coldwards along the river. The wolf had been almost dead from its fight with a bear. Naraghlin had just finished off the wounded animal. Nobody had actually seen the bear. The omen of being rescued by a bear was good one though, and the group had agreed to spin a story to the elders when they returned with its ravaged corpse.

Gelthius hadn't known then that Naraghlin would later use the lie as proof that the spirit of the woods had blessed him; and killed the old chieftain to take his place as ruler of the Linghar. Gelthius had made the mistake of speaking out against this murder and had been left beaten close to death by Naraghlin's henchmen; he was warned never to speak the truth about what had happened in the woods that day, on pain of death.

That had been the start of Gelthius's woes, and as he followed Naraghlin into the gloomy hall, he wondered at the strange route that had brought him back to this place. One word from him to Ullsaard, and within a day, the town would be razed to the ground. Naraghlin and his cronies would be dead.

It was tempting, almost too tempting, but Gelthius reminded himself that it would not only be Naraghlin that would suffer. The legions were deadly efficient, but not very discriminating; there was no way to protect his friends without protecting those he disliked.

Naraghlin took off his cloak and spread it over the carved stump of wood that served as his throne. In the flickering of the fire pit, the chieftain's wrinkled face seemed animated, but there was little life in his eyes. Girls arrived with skins of mead, passing one to the chieftain and another to Gelthius. He sat down on the straw-strewn floor and signalled for Muuril to stand by the door.

Kalsaghan, Mannuis and half a dozen other local nobles entered, but Naraghlin dismissed them with a wave.

"Out! This is between the two of us," said the chieftain. He waited until the others had left before continuing. "What does your new chieftain want?"

"Swear loyalty to my king," said Gelthius. "Do not fight the Askhans."

"That's it?" Naraghlin swilled from the skin, mead glistening in his beard. "No tribute? No slaves?"

"That's not how the Askhans do things," said Gelthius. "Not if you agree."

"What then?"

"More Askhans will come here. They will show you how to build proper houses, sow fields of barley, improve the farms. They will bring boats and masons and many other men with crafts. They will offer the young men of the Linghar the chance to become legionnaires. They will teach you how to count in their way, and speak their tongue, and write, and read."

Naraghlin considered this as he took another mouthful of mead. He tossed the skin aside and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

"And?" said the chieftain. "If that was all, nobody would have fought the Askhans."

"The Askhans will remove the shrines in the wood and down by the river, and the wards over the doors, and will tell you never to talk about the spirits. An Askhan will come to the town and take over. You will renounce the title of chieftain, and your claim to rule. This Askhan will take taxes for the empire, and you will get nothing. If you behave yourself, you might get some land to keep for yourself."

"I'm almost dead, anyway, though I can't see Kalsaghan being too happy about that. So if nobody can talk about the spirits, who calls for the crow when I die?"

"Nobody does. Your body will be burnt and the ashes given to Kalsaghan to do with as he wants. That's how the Askhans do it."

Horror spread across Naraghlin's face.

"But if nobody calls the crow, I'll be trapped in my body when it gets burnt! Why would they do that to me?"

"It's the same for everyone," said Gelthius. "The Askhans say that there are no spirits, there is no crow to take us to Aleea. They say there is no Aleea to be taken to."

"But that's idiotic. If there was no Aleea, where do all the dead people go?"

Gelthius shrugged.

"They just laughed at me when I asked. They think people just stop when their body dies."

"No, no, I can't do this," said Naraghlin. "I'd be dooming the Linghar to torment and pain. If we do not make the tributes, the crow will not feed our fathers, and who will put the seed of the children in the belly of our women if there are no offerings to the dove? This Askhan madness has to be stopped."

"Nobody's done that for two hundred years," said Gelthius, standing up. "If you fight, our people will all be killed and the Askhans will grow crops and raise goats on the ruins of our homes."

"Then we will leave here, go towards the dusk and start over," said Naraghlin. "Our people have done it before, we can survive again."

"Maybe you're right," said Gelthius as he headed to the door. "But Ullsaard is a determined man. He wants all of Salphoria, one way or the other. Maybe you'll escape this year, but next year? The year after? The Askhans told me that they will rule all the lands between the seas. They're not going to stop."

"Unless we stop them," growled Naraghlin. "Aegenuis is uniting the tribes."

Gelthius stopped at the doorway and looked back, Naraghlin a huddled form in the glow of the fire, eyes staring into the flames. "It won't help. Think about it. I'll not be heading back until tomorrow. Don't throw our people's lives away."

Gelthius slapped Muuril on the shoulder and the two of them left the hall.

"Are they going to fight?" asked the sergeant, looking uneasily at the crowd of warriors waiting outside the long hall.

"I think they are," said Gelthius. "I'm going to get my family and then we'll leave. I think it won't be safe to stay here."