The Lords Of The Crimson River

Chapter 11

It was longer than Blade expected before Duke Cyron called him to a private meeting to hear the story of how he came to be an exile and a wanderer. Blade had plenty of time to prepare his «cover» story. He used all his experience in intelligence work, and drew freely on several Home Dimension medieval romances, a couple of historical novels, and some of the more romantic episodes of English history. The result might have made a fairly good novel in itself. Blade made mental note to write it down, in case he was seized with a desire to take up writing historical novels if he lived to retire! Certainly the story seemed to convince Duke Cyron that he was not only a Lord but a man who could be trusted. Three days after the meeting, he was invited to a private dinner in the Duke's chambers, with Alsin, Chenosh, and Miera, as well as Cyron himself.

«You've seen how much our Lords are willing to spend on their pleasures, haven't you?» said Alsin. He was sipping wine as he spoke, but Blade knew the question was more than casual. He'd seen another of those looks passing between Alsin and Duke Cyron over the candied fruits. Then the servants left one by one, until the lordly guests were alone and Alsin himself was pouring the wine.

Blade nodded. «I've seen the spending, at least. I won't judge the pleasures. Most of them aren't what I would care for, but I've lived a very different kind of life for many years. I've had less time for pleasures of any sort than the Lords of the Crimson River.»

Another look passed between the Marshal and the Duke. Blade wondered if they had a telepathic link. So far he hadn't found one with Cheeky, but he and the feather-monkey seemed to understand each other well enough without it.

Duke Cyron sighed. «Do you think perhaps, Blade, the Lords' pleasures are excessive and that harm will come to the Duchies? I cannot command you to speak plainly, but I will be much happier if you do.»

Now we're getting close to the heart of things, thought Blade. Aloud, he said, «If the Duchies have no enemies, they can afford to waste lives and wealth this way. It's not good, but nothing really bad will come of it. The question is: do the Duchies have enemies? I imagine they do.»

«You judge correctly. I expected you would, and I thank the Fathers I was not disappointed.» The emotion in the Duke's voice was so strong that both Alsin and Chenosh looked embarrassed. Blade felt a twinge of guilt. The Duke was clearly about to reveal his most cherished secrets to a man who'd won his confidence by an elaborate set of lies.

Once the Duke started explaining things his voice was clear, steady, and strong. For a while Blade was able to see him as he must have been at Blade's age-a strong, proud, and wise leader of men. The pride was still there and so was the wisdom, but now he had to do most of his work with the strength of younger men.

The seven Duchies of the Crimson River won their independence when both the East and West Kingdoms had civil wars within a generation. All seven Dukes fought side by side against the Kingdoms, then went their separate ways as soon as the fighting was over.

The two Kingdoms did just the opposite. Generation after generation, the Kings hammered their Lords into obedience, if not always into loyalty. For the last fifty years the two Kingdoms had been united and peaceful. Their wealth increased rapidly, and so did their armies.

Meanwhile, the seven Duchies and their Lords slid further and further into petty warfare and expensive vices. Every year they wasted enough wealth to raise an army, as completely as if they'd thrown the gold straight into the Crimson River.

«The warfare does give us some advantages,» said Alsin. «Our Lords are better fighters, tougher, stronger, more experienced than most servants of the Kings. But our warfare also kills too many Lords and divides the rest so they will not willingly fight side by side. Either Kingdom can put into the field twice our strength in mounted Lords, to say nothing of Helpers. It is said that King Handryg of the West is even arming peasants!»

Duke Cyron shook his head. «I have heard this vile rumor, but I refuse to believe it is anything more. King Handryg has much that is unlordly about him, but he is not a fool or a barbarian.»

Blade couldn't help feeling that anyone in this Dimension who didn't see that arming the peasants would give him an enormous advantage was an even bigger fool. He also knew that he'd be thrown out of Castle Ranit, possibly without his head, if he breathed a word of that thought.

Either Kingdom could have conquered the Crimson River lands twenty years ago, if they'd been ready to pay a high price. The Lords would sell their lives dearly, and the two Dukes whose Duchies controlled the passes to the Kingdoms were both honest and intelligent men. One of them, Duke Pirod of Skandra, was probably the best military mind along the Crimson River. The other, Duke Ormess of Hauga, had one of the strongest armies in the lands.

However, the time might come when the price for conquering the Crimson River would drop sharply. It would certainly come sooner if the Duchies remained divided and the Lords went on with their private quarrels and vices.

Then one of the Kingdoms would surely strike. King Fedron of the East was young, tough, a formidable soldier, and ruthlessly ambitious. King Handryg of the West was older, but he had the larger army. He might want to end his long reign with the glorious achievement of conquering the Duchies.

Either way, the Crimson River lands would suffer. The Dukes and Lords would fight for their honor even if they had no hope of victory. They would keep the war going until they were killed and their lands ruined. Duke Cyron painted a nightmarish picture of Alsin reduced to a mercenary in some foreign Lord's service, his grandson Chenosh a clerk or priest, and Miera forcibly married to some King's lowborn minister.

Blade couldn't help noting that neither Cyron nor Alsin said a word about the fate of the Crimson River's peasants during these years of warfare. They would have to worry about murder, starvation, torture, and rape, not just loss of rank, wealth, or honor.

Again, there was nothing to be gained by raising the point.

Besides, if the Duke had a plan for preventing the war, he'd be saving the peasants in spite of thinking only about the Lords. Blade began to wish the Duke would finish the «background briefing» and get on to the plan.

He didn't have to wait long. «Conquering the Duchies will still cost the Kingdoms too much if we all stand together,» said Cyron. «It has been my hope for many years to find a way to unite the Duchies. Now I think the coming of Lord Blade gives us that way.»

«You rest many hopes on me, Your Grace. I hope not too many.» Blade wasn't being falsely modest. He honestly didn't know what was expected of him.

«You have traveled far, seen much, and thought deeply,» said the Duke. «You bring to the Crimson River knowledge gained elsewhere. And you do not come from either Kingdom. All this makes you unlike any Lord I have known these past fifty years. Even if you are not good enough, Blade, I will not live long enough to wait for someone who might not be better and indeed might not come at all! I must do the best I can with your help. If that is not good enough-well, the Fathers do no honor to those who sit like frogs waiting for the snake to strike.»

Cyron knew he had two of his fellow Dukes on his side, the two who held the passes. That meant four Dukes to win over or defeat. From what he knew of them they'd be hard to win over in the time available. On the other hand, all four of them had weaknesses which might be turned against them. The skills of all the men in the room now would be needed for this, but if they all worked together… Blade found himself wanting to hear more than tantalizing hints about the «weaknesses» of the other four Dukes, but didn't expect Cyron to tell him until he'd sworn to aid the Duke's plans.

Once all seven Duchies were willing to follow Cyron's leadership, they would be a match for either Kingdom. Then they could negotiate with the Kingdoms as equals, promising their allegiance to whichever King offered the better price. The Duchies would lose some of their independence; but they could hardly hope to keep that anyway. Instead they would gain a favored position under their new King, and they would be spared a destructive war.

Blade had one more question. He thought he knew the answer already, but he wanted to hear what Cyron and Alsin had to say. «If the Duchies end up willing to follow Your Grace, what is there to keep you from making them a third Kingdom, with yourself as King?»

«If I were twenty years younger or if my son were alive-nothing. As it is»-Cyron shrugged, and for the first time that evening he really looked his age-«I am past eighty. My lawful heirs are a grandson unseasoned in war and a granddaughter. Miera cannot inherit a crown at all, and Chenosh could not do so without much dispute. There would surely be enough warfare over the succession to undo all my work.»

He looked sharply at Blade. «I have also thought of adopting an heir. But there are already men nearer to me in blood than you. Even they would not be sure of an undisputed succession. So that custom of the old days offers us no help.»

«I had no ambitions to be adopted as your heir,» said Blade in a level voice, and he decided to take a gamble. «If you had not done this for your bastard son Marshal Alsin, you would surely not do it for an outland Lord.»

Cyron blinked. «You speak rather sharply for one who is, as you say, outlander.»

«I think I speak the truth, too.» Blade was sure now that the physical resemblance between Alsin and Cyron was no mere coincidence, and he was also sure that by speaking bluntly about their relationship he had done the right thing. Cyron now had to either make him an ally or kill him, and no man would kill a potentially useful ally merely for plain speaking. Besides, Blade was getting tired of all this verbal fencing. It was time to get to work.

«Yes. Alsin is my illegitmate son. So he could neither become my heir, nor do what you can do.»

«And what is that?»

«Marry Miera, and become Captain of my Guards. That will bind you to me in blood and battle oath, so that you can act and speak for me. When you have done these things, we can set about the work you seem so impatient to begin.»

Blade smiled in spite of himself. Cyron might be nearsighted, but when it came to seeing what made other people tick he missed very little. Blade poured himself more wine, conscious that Miera's eyes were on him all the while, then drank half the cup before speaking.

«As to marrying Miera»-he turned to face her-«my lady, it is for you to say whether you will have me as a husband or not. Is it your wish?»

«Blade, if you-«began Alsin irritably, but the Duke waved him to silence, and Chenosh glared at him. Miera was clutching the tablecloth in one hand and her knife in the other, so tightly her knuckles were white. Gently Blade reached over and pulled the knife out of her hand.

«Yes, my lord,» she said finally, so quietly that Blade had to strain to hear her. «Yes, yes, yes, yes.» For a moment it looked as if she were going to faint. Then her hand leaped out and clutched Blade's, and her smile seemed to light up the whole room. For a moment Blade had eyes for nothing else except that smile.

Cyron's almost apologetic cough brought him back to reality. «What about the Captaincy of my Guards?»

«I'll answer that when you've answered a question of mine,» said Blade. This would be the bluntest question yet, but also the least dangerous. He'd gone too far for the Duke to turn against him now. «What happened to my predecessor? Did he really fall from his horse? And if he did, was it an accident?»

Chenosh answered, in spite of yet another sharp look from Alsin. «Lord Blade, I swear by the Fathers and my friendship for you that he whose place you take did fall, and by accident.» Then he smiled. «I will not swear that the accident wasn't a piece of good luck for us, though.»

The Duke nodded. «I add my word to his. Would we have set aside a faithful or at least useful servant before we could even be sure you would join us?»

«Wise men would not, that is true. But I did not know how faithful he was. Also, I have seen many strange things done in plots and conspiracies.»

Alsin snorted. «You've seen nothing, compared to what you'll be seeing here.»

Blade looked around the table and decided this was probably true. Then he looked at Miera again. Her green eyes were full of tears, but met his steadily. At least there was one person in this room he could trust!