- Chapter 68






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PART VIII
 
February, 1541 A.D.
 
Chapter 68
Vlad found that attempting to cobble together his rule over the Duchy was complicated by the atrocious weather and snow. That and the bad roads. The attempt of Emeric's troops to oppose him was equally hampered by the same. Only Emeric's men also had to contend with a hostile local population and Vlad's highly mobile infantry and light cavalry—who knew the country and knew where and when traveling was possible. Still, Vlad was now the de facto ruler of a j-shaped section of Valahia. The hold-out was in the southwest, where Ban Ilescu of Irongate held sway, and the lands away from the Carpathians where Emeric and his troops effectively enforced the myth of the new true Duke. Rumor—slow and garbled—had it that the boyars were having a hard time of it there, enforcing the will of Emeric. Vlad had already had two gristly packages delivered from new supporters in the lands he now controlled—at least for the winter: the heads of two boyars.
He'd also had more money and news from Elizabeth. Both had been very very welcome. She was incredibly well-informed about the movement of King Emeric's troops.
Vlad knew that spring and summer would be bitter warfare. He would—by the information trickling east, face the full might of an angry Emeric. Many thousands of troops, a lot of heavy cavalry—something he had very little of himself.
Since the incident with the rescue of the women and children from the stockade, relations between the Hawk clan Mongol and the duke of Valahia had been remarkably amicable. It had given him something he'd previously lacked: a source of food for his troops.
* * *
"It's a problem," said Bortai to Erik, at one of their frequent meetings, with the dimple that betrayed the fact that she was trying to keep a straight face. "For the last century at least, the subclans have kept their restive youngsters from causing too much trouble by sending them off to go and raid the Székely. Loot is important. And so is keeping them from starting fights with other clans or going off wife-stealing."
"I thought that was forbidden," said Erik.
Bortai shrugged. "Yes. But the Yasa code was poorly enforced after the Great Khan's death. Clans spent more time fighting each other than anything else. It has crept in a little again. It was the way the Mongol did things. And we are retentive about our traditions and beliefs."
"I suspect that they're popular with men who have little other chance of finding a wife."
She dimpled. "Probably. Older men marry too many wives. Still, if the kurultai goes to plan . . . we will give them plenty of opportunity for warfare to the north and east."
"Your people could do worse than to strike a deal with Vlad. They can provide you with what Eberhart calls a manufacturing base. And they are a good market for your sheep."
"And our breakdown horses," Bortai giggled. "The generals were saying—after the fight in the pass—that we should really sell the Khan-over-the-mountain better horses. And then they were saying 'no, eventually he'd use them against us'."
"Still. The Holy Roman Empire proves that very different people can live at peace. They turn the aggression outwards."
"Chinngis Khan proved that," said Bortai, cheerfully.
Erik nodded. "But I don't think that light cavalry can ride over all opposition any more. Cannon and fortifications have got better."
She nodded. "And men softer. More . . . living in cities."
"Is that all bad? I wouldn't choose to do it, but for others . . ."
She pondered that one. It was plainly an idea she'd never contemplated. But the one thing about Bortai was that she would think about new ideas. Intelligently. She was, Erik suspected, just as traditionalist as his mama. But she had was some flexibility and adaptability. "I suppose so. For other people. Someone must smelt iron and grow grain. But not me, please. I like space. Even the lands of the Golden Horde grow too crowded for me," she said with a chuckle.
"You should see the plains of Vinland," said Erik, dreamily. "You could ride for a month and not see the end of them. And there are few people there. There were no horses, and without horses people cannot survive there. The distances are too great."
They ended up talking about Erik's daydream until Manfred came looking for him. Erik was embarrassed. Where had the hours gone?
They rode, as planned, to see Vlad. And, as the weather turned too miserable for the drill they'd planned, ended up talking about strategy for Vlad to use the next summer.
"In truth, we're relying on massed fire," he said to Manfred, when asked about what he hoped to do about heavy cavalry.
"If you hold most of the castles and fortifications, that may work. At the moment," said Erik, with brutal honesty, "You're relying on the ability of your infantry to run away on horseback and your light cavalry to shield them in their retreat. Come spring Emeric will have more light cavalry than you can muster, and you'll need places to run to, because between the Croats and the his knights you're going to get herded and crushed. But if you tie up his men trying to take castles—and being attacked if they don't, it will improve things for you. Infantry firing cannons and rolling rocks and pouring boiling oil can stop heavy cavalry."
Vlad nodded. "I am sending messengers southwest. To the man Emeric wishes to replace me with. I have received messages from him."
"Expect treachery," said Manfred.
Vlad blinked. "Oh. I suppose so."
"I think I had better lend you Erbart of Brunswick. He's used to double-talk and what it means. And he can fill you with his theories about what a state needs."
Vlad nodded eagerly, completely missing the sarcasm. "I've thought a lot about it. Roads and bridges, I think . . ."
"Excellent. Just the sort of thing he'd say. Now if we can introduce you to Doge Dorma, you could start on trade too," said Manfred.
"The Danube has such potential," said Vlad, not noticing Manfred's expression.
* * *
"Ban Ilescu has sent a message to Prince Vlad."
Elizabeth shrugged. "You said that he had proved a weak reed, Emeric. That he'd not managed to rally anything but the area he effectively controlled to him, anyway. Kill him and start afresh."
"It's a bit more complicated than that, Aunt. Vlad has somehow reached an accommodation with the accursed Golden Horde. The Mongol numbers and strength have built up over the last few years. They've been turning their attention north, up to now. Nothing but petty nuisance raids into our territory."
"I sense this is all going somewhere, Emeric," said Elizabeth, allowing just a hint of asperity to creep into her voice. "So why don't you actually tell me what you are getting at. What does this have to do with Ban Ilescu of Irongate?"
He scowled at her. "Just that. Irongate. At the moment he controls the little river traffic that there is. The Danube is a gateway to Hungary. One I need to control. All I can think that that traitor Vlad could offer the Mongol: Irongate and access to my inner kingdom. If they did come up on barges, they could land anywhere. Attack anywhere. Especially if he sells them cannon. He has somehow, curse him, found someone to make him guns and cannon."
"Oh. Well, set your mind at ease about that. I have certain allies in waters of the Danube. I can take your unfaithful vassal's castle away from him. Just like that." She snapped her fingers. "Shall we have a look and see just what he is doing.?
Emeric nodded delightedly. "And I wonder why I had never thought of using the barges myself. I'll have some prepared. With cannon."
Elisabeth did not say, "good, that will keep you busy and out of my way for a while," or "your father wasted time and money on that idiocy," but she thought it. Instead she said: "I will foment some distrust of the Mongol with Vlad. Send him some tale of planned treachery. That will help."
Emeric rubbed his hands in glee. "Come spring they're in for a surprise," he said, as he followed her into the room where she had suitable preparations made for the summonsing of a minor demon. She had had other plans for the summonsing, but those could wait. A pot bubbled slowly on a charcoal brazier in the far corner. She went and stirred it, on her way to collect the candles.
"You've taken to cooking, Aunt?" commented Emeric, sniffing.
"Merely rendering fat for certain special candles. Certain tasks cannot be done by underlings, as you know," she said coolly. "Sometime you will have to see to doing something about this unseemly haste that priests show to baptize babies."
"It makes you look like a hedge witch."
She looked down her nose at him. "I do not like the comparison or implication, Emeric. My power is not drawn from old ambivalent goddesses or herbs. I've done my best to stamp that out."
She took out the candles and made the nine circles complete. Wrote certain names in an ink that was very prone to clotting despite the spells she used to counter that. A small blot could change meanings, and free something that might, at best, devour her. Elizabeth often wondered if that, or symbolism, was why it was required for these summonsings. She called up something that made Emeric blench. Not her. She'd seen worse. Although, this one was a tricky one. "I abjure you once. By the dark power that is given to me by great Lucifer, by Ashteroth and Baal'zebub and all the lesser names: show only the truth." She repeated it thrice.
The thing in the pentacle smiled toothily. It had many teeth. "Of course, mistress. As if I would do otherwise."
"Not now, you won't. Show us Ban Ilescu of Irongate."
An image appeared, as if floating in the air. The man was seated and eating soup. He was a rather noisy soup eater, and they could hear him, clearly.
"It is fish soup. Sterlet," said the demon.
Emeric sighed irritatedly. "How valuable . . ."
And someone said, "M'lord, there is a messenger here from Prince Vlad."
"Show me this messenger," Emeric snapped.
The demon ignored him. Showed instead the Ban putting down his spoon, and taking the message, and reading it."
"Let us see what it says!" shouted Emeric. Elizabeth had to push him back. The fool would have broken the enclosure.
The Ban, of course unaware he was being watched, smiled. It was not a nice smile. "'He will be just in addressing my claims'. Ha. Now the horse-trading begins."
He set the message aside, and continued to eat his soup.
At length someone coughed. "Will there be a reply, M'lord?"
The Ban nodded. "Oh yes. But not until I have thought it over. See the messenger fed and given a bed."
"He would not stay, M'lord."
"How trying. But the last messenger got there. Now what do we have after this soup?"
* * *
Emeric's General Muiso was was doing his best to avoid conflict without telling his master. "It would be difficult to take his fortress. The island is well defended. It is about a mile long and walled. Then there is the citadel itself . . . Your Majesty, it would be possible to take it by siege—but there are fields on the island itself. To bombard it from the water is not to be thought of, to bombard it from land . . . firstly the range, and secondly it is in the mouth of the gorge. The terrain is vile. Steep. Forested. It will take time to get the guns up there, and they're going to be further away from the island than will allow us any accuracy. The city of Orsoua and the castle there—his secondary fortress, would be easier," said the General. He coughed. "And, Your Majesty, the Irongate gorge is not easy to navigate. There are some cataracts, the Prigada rock . . . It is possible, Your Majesty, but far from easy. Do you wish me to make preparations to seize the castles? We will need to commit quite a lot of troops to it."
Emeric slammed his fist into his hand. Sighed. "No. I will see if . . . alternative means cannot be made use of."
* * *
"Yes," Elizabeth Bartholdy said. "In the middle of the water, isn't it? Yes, there is something I have wanted to try for a while. They do not like being dry, of course. But the river spreads its net a long way. With the power I will release from that blood . . . I think soon men will run screaming from it. But the island will do for a start. The Irongate will be in the hands of those who will devour ships crews that come too close."
"You talk of power, Aunt. But all I seem to have done with your machinations this time is lose it. And send my money to my enemy," said Emeric sourly.
"Ah. But that is because you look too closely. You do not see the the syzygy. The pattern between great events. The old ones on the land have held power for a long, long time. But once power lived in rivers—some seven thousand years ago. There are carvings on the stones beside it that show you the evidence. And the river-things did not share that power; they were worshiped and took what they needed from their acolytes. That time will come again, but this time, I will rule. I will control all of them. I have had an arrangement with the Vila now for many years. I give them what they desire; now I will give them more—for a price. And I will take the other ones into bondage, for my purposes." She laughed.
"Seven thousand years. Surely there is nothing left."
She snorted. "It draws its strength from the forces of nature and the stone of the mountains, the movement of the sun and moon, and those will soon be in alignment."
"Who and what are these things you seek to bind?"
"Various ancient magical rulers. And wolves."
"Wolves?"
She shrugged. "The wolves made a compact with a tribe of stone-workers. And between them they made a compact with a power of air and fire. The forest, the Leshy, which gives allegiance to the earth, joined with them. But the compact must be renewed. If one, just one, the one that draws from all of them, can be constrained to make the same bloody bargain with the last of the old water order, my Vila friends . . ."
Emeric shook his head. This was out of his depth. He took part in some rituals. He used a few simple spells. But Elizabeth had destroyed the other magic-users and workers far more thoroughly than the Servants of the Holy Trinity had. "How did you find all this out?"
"I have my sources," she said, loftily.
She did. Demonic ones. Emeric could only hope that she had checked them against more tangible and less deceptive sources.
 
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