Chapter 13
Peasant Fables
Milon, Bergeny
The Witch Queen's army consisted of six marching armies and six garrison armies. Each of these armies, or taxeis, consisted of twelve chiliarchies, and in Bergeny, Shahazz'in the governor-general divided those chiliarchies among the seven princedoms that comprised the kingdom. Three he kept in Lewenfort where he was headquartered and to the three restive domains bordering Skadia and Lothria, two apiece, which left one chiliarchy to each of the three remaining princedoms. This included Milon, which fell to the Orkish captain Gunrok.
Because the Prince of Milon had proven to be a man of understanding, Gunrok's warriors were camped outside the city walls. It may have been seen as an insult for the garrison to live in tents, but this accorded better with the nature of Gunrok's people and it was better for his warriors that they not adopt the soft city ways of the humans. Those soft city ways were no small part of the reason for their defeat and Gunrok would not see his warriors fall into the same trap.
Even with his precautions, however, garrison duty had a way of blunting a warrior's edge. Gunrok longed to return to the front, to taste real battle once more. He needed to do so soon before age could overtake his ability. Perhaps the coming spring campaign would be the opportunity he sought. In the meantime, though, it was his duty to keep the peace and ensure the obedience of the conquered humans.
Gunrok was receiving the morning report from his tagmatarchs. He noted that one of them, Ghullr, had another Ork at his side. If Gunrok remembered correctly, it was Grommwè, one of Ghullr's kentarchs. It was unusual for the tagmatarchs to bring one of their subordinates with them, so Gunrok expected unusual news when it was Ghullr's turn to give report.
"Lord Chiliarch," Ghullr said as he saluted Gunrok, "I bring news from Kentarch Grommwè."
Grommwè saluted and said, "Lord Chiliarch, I have lost touch with Grundl, one of my dimœrites. He was out collecting tribute and it has been ten days since I last heard heard from him."
Some armies may not have felt the need for constant communication, but in the Witch Queen's army, a runner was supposed to arrive every two or three days to give report. This was true for everyone from the lowly decadarchos with his eight-man file all the way up to the strategos giving an account of his army to the polemarch. It was much unlike the Orkish way, where a warchief need not answer to the overlord unless he failed, but the Witch Queen's polemarch was cunning in war and left little to chance. It had brought them victory thus far, which was enough to convince most Orks, those who were not mere brainless slabs of meat who did nothing more than throw themselves at the enemy.
"Perhaps the runner met with misfortune," Grommwè suggested, but he already knew what Gunrok would say.
"Another would have been sent by now, which is why you are here. Where was Grundl last you heard?"
"A village called Grau in the west."
"Then you march on Grau, Ghullr," Gunrok told the tagmatarch, "you and all your warriors."
"More than half my number are dispatched as Grundl's band, Lord Chiliarch," Ghullr replied.
"March with what you have and recall the rest. They can join you on the road. I will go with you to see what has become of Grundl myself."
"Lord Chiliarch, it could be nothing," Ghullr said.
"And it could be something," Gunrok countered. "If not, we shall stretch our legs and see the countryside."
"When shall we make ready?"
"At once," Gunrok said curtly. "You will set out within the hour. Now go."
Ghullr and Grommwè saluted and promptly withdrew. Gunrok then turned to the other tagmatarchs and told them, "Make it quick. I must make ready myself."
* * *
After four days of forced march, Ghullr's tagma arrived at the village of Grau. Still two enomotiæ had yet to catch up with them, but even without them, they numbered more than a hundred and fifty and there was a dozen more besides hand-picked by Gunrok to accompany him. Among those was Ulwyn, his witch advisor. She was a halfbreed but gifted enough in the mysteries to be counted among the wise women in spite of her tainted blood. Gunrok had no choice but to pay her a grudging respect for having ability enough to earn her place, especially given her natural disadvantages.
Grau was a village of some twenty to thirty households, enough to field half a knight's retinue by the old laws of the land. It would seem that fire had scarred some of the fields outside the village. Fortunate for the villagers that harvest time had already passed. Even if the Witch Queen would not usually take a tribute of corn, it was needed to pay ordinary taxes and their miserable lot would be even more miserable if they were found wanting when it came time to collect. Could that be where things went ill for Grundl?
Gunrok turned to the corneter and said, "Sound the horn."
The corneter blew one long blast followed by three short ones. It was a simple signal. The first blast announced their arrival and the three blasts were a summons for everyone in the village. The villagers ought to have known what it meant. It was the same call used when it was time for the annual tribute. That was why Gunrok's ill temper did not improve any when none but a lone figure emerged from the houses.
Gunrok imagined it to be the village chief. His best years were behind him, but his back was not yet so crooked, nor did he lean as heavily on his cane as those greatly enfeebled by too many winters. He doffed his cap to salute Gunrok, saying, "Greetin's, m'lord Captain. How may we serve?"
"Three blasts of the horn, what does it mean?" Gunrok asked him.
The chief looked at him nervously and said, "All're t' assemble, Lord Captain."
"Is this a village of but one man?"
"No, Lord Captain."
"Then all have not assembled, have they? Why?"
"The people fear m'lord Captain'd be wroth, so I alone come t' plead yer mercy."
"And why would I be wroth, and why would you need to plead for mercy?"
Gunrok, of course, already knew the answer and even a simple peasant like the chief likely knew that he knew. It was wise of the chief to not feign ignorance, but would his peasant wisdom be enough to save him from the snare closing around his neck? Gunrok would let the man's own words condemn him.
"Sir Grundl come fer tribute a fortnight past," the chief began, "an' we renner'd it as we ought, but then some witch laid low one a' his men, so he an' the rest goes t' catch 'er. They chase 'er out t' the field yonner, the one that's burnt. 'Twas a mandrake what slew 'em, had Sir Grundl's head in hand when they come back. The servin' men, they took their lives, what with their masters dead. We... we tried t' drive 'em off—the witch, the mandrake, the jackass knight, the pries' with flamin' eyes, the lot of 'em—, but they b'witched us t' sleep, an' once we woke, they was gone."
Just when Gunrok was thinking to credit the chief for his wisdom, he had to concoct this colossal absurdity. In his younger days, Gunrok would have cloven the man's skull in twain then and there, but the years had given him the patience to afford a man the opportunity to finish digging his grave before he was buried in it.
"Do you take me for a fool?" Gunrok asked the chief.
The chief blanched and cried, "No! Yer no fool, m'lord Captain, an' I weren't meanin' no offense. What I tol' was God's hones' truth, what I seen with me own eyes."
"You say there was a witch."
"Yes, Lord Captain. Small thing, but a slip of a girl, clad in skins, cover'd in strange markin's. Struck from the shadows, caught one o' yer men unawares, lur'd th'others int' the mandrake's trap."
"And you braved this fearsome witch to drive her off," Gunrok said, wholly unconvinced. "A wonder you did not burn like Grundl and his warriors."
The chief chewed on his lip. He seemed to feel the noose tightening. His instincts were fair but not keen enough.
"I will tell you a more likely story," Gunrok said. "There are traitors in this land who laid in wait for Grundl when he came to collect tribute. It would take no few to best thirty spears. How many men are in this village?"
"It weren't us, Lord Captain!" the chief cried. "We're leal, I swear it! We drove off the witch, we sent word t' our lord t' find 'er, we buried yer slain like they was our own! What more could we do!?"
"You buried my warriors," Gunrok said. "Then we will do the same for you and not leave your carcasses for the crows." He then raised his voice and shouted, "Kill them all! Leave not one stone standing!"
"Lord Captain!"
Gunrok struck the chief and he crumpled to the ground dead. Ghullr wasted no time echoing Gunrok's orders and the tagma descended on the village like locusts to a field of ripe corn. Amid the screams, the blood and the flames, Gunrok merely snarled in contempt.
"They esteem us too little if they think we can be deceived by such fables."
"Perhaps it is nothing more than a fable, Lord Chiliarch," Ulwyn said, "but what if there were truth to the man's words?"
"Witches and mandrakes, jackass knights and priests with flaming eyes?" Gunrok asked incredulously.
"Perhaps the man's words were misunderstood," she suggested. "What if he did not mean the plant mandragora but instead a man-dragon, a man-drake as it were?"
"Is there such a thing?"
"It is said that there are Dragons who roam the earth in the guise men, and the queer offspring of unions of Man and Dragon."
Coming from a halfbreed like Ulwyn, the latter notion not seem quite so fanciful.
"Are you saying that I should have spared them?" Gunrok asked. "That I should spare whatever remains?"
"They are under your authority, Lord Chiliarch," Ulwyn replied. "It is of little consequence, but the more you kill, the fewer remain to render tribute. Her Majesty the Queen will call on Lord Shahazz'in to account for it and then Lord Shahazz'in will call on you."
"Quelling rebellion in the land is more valuable than a few scrawny peasant children or a herd of ill-favored swine."
"If you are indeed quelling the flames and not stoking them."
"You question my methods?"
"Only your results, Lord Chiliarch, which remain to be seen."
Were Ulwyn not one of the Witch Queen's chosen, Gunrok may well have throttled her. For a halfbreed and a female to speak to a warchief so would warrant death, but because the power behind her was so much greater than his own, he had to restrain himself.
Because he was so ready to kill her, he was all the more reluctant to seek her counsel, even though that was her purpose for being there.
"How would you go about finding the truth of this matter without being made to look the fool if it is all fable?"
"Tell the lords that there are wild tales being spread among the smallfolk, of a young witch clad in skins in the company of a knight and a priest—we will leave out the man-drake for now. Spread the word to the villages to be looking for anything suspicious, of outsiders passing through these lands. Offer a reward for any word that would lead us to them. Even if they do not exist, eager eyes may uncover something else that seeks to hide from us."
"Very well," Gunrok said. "Have the scribes draw up orders when we return to the city. Word it as you see fit and I will put my seal to it."
Ulwyn bowed slightly and replied, "As you wish, Lord Chiliarch."
Gunrok scowled. This whole business did not sit well with him. Give him the open battlefield, let him face odds of a hundred to one. There he knew he would avail himself well, but slinking rebels and peasant fancies... They were as worms gnawing at the roots of the tree and in his hand was an axe, not a spade. Oh, that these creatures of fancy might be flesh and blood... Flesh he could rend, blood he could spill, but against whispers and phantoms, what could he do?