The Conqueror Page 9

  “Tie her off, boy.”

  “Yes, sir.” The last kid’s sticky red hands flew, and then Garvin gratefully let go, albeit cautiously.

  The wire took the weight with no discernable problems. The hog hung upside down, swaying slightly.

  He grabbed the nearest trooper.

  “There you go. Now slice its throat and then you men can do the other ones.” They all stood there looking sheepish. “I want you to wait about a half an hour, right? Basically, after that you make a big long slit. Starting at the breast, you go from the breastbone right down to the pecker, the cunt or the asshole. Do not cut through the genitals or the asshole. Use a real sharp blade. Do not cut too deeply. A half an inch, maybe even less, that should be plenty, and then you carefully go through the second layer, without cutting into the intestines and all the shit, get it? We don’t want to spoil our King’s dinner, or our own for that matter. Then you pull all the guts out. Save all that because some of it’s good eating. After that, come and get me and I’ll show you what comes next.”

  They were only going to be given so many options. He turned away decisively.

  So.

  That is the way it is done, boys.

  His hands were pretty bloody, and he hadn’t done his tunic much good either.

  He strolled away to let them figure it out and have a few minutes away from the boss.

  They would have much to talk about.

  Chapter Nine

  Vall, Ambassador of the Great Khan, had arrived in Windermere with barely enough warning to have proper quarters prepared. The Khan’s official couriers had only arrived four days previously to announce Vall’s imminent arrival. Members of the party were to be installed in the largest apartments in the castle excepting her own and Theo’s. The higher-ranking were located in the southeast tower and up several flights of stairs. The foreign servants had been scattered where they could be fit in.

  It was the best they could do for an honored guest. Vall was a scion of a very old family. Vall held a province or two in his own right as one of the highest-ranking vassals of the Khan. He was the most important guest they had ever had, in that sense, in a world where virtually all ambassadors and prelates were of lesser or greater noble rank.

  His arrival had been a diplomatic success, and more privately, a kind of confirmation.

  Maidens, as many of the prettiest girls as they could scrape up on short notice, lined both sides of the steps to the keep. The tallest ones were at the bottom of the steps, the smallest at the top. Fitted with long, diaphanous white gowns, they had garlands of red roses in their hair and held bouquets of wildflowers, running riot now that the season had climaxed on the brink of autumn. Her maidens and common seamstresses had worked overtime to produce the gowns in the short time allotted. The children’s heads were all turned to face the Ambassador and his party as they dismounted from the enclosed carriages that Eleanora affected for all important state occasions. Their high, sweet voices chanted a traditional song of welcome. Drawn by matched teams of four dappled grey stallions, the road between the docks and the castle had been patched. Holes and ruts were filled in, in order to impress the dignitary and perhaps even make his ride a little smoother.

  The fact that it was also a military road would not be overlooked by Vall, whom she was certain was a perceptive and capable fellow, no matter what he looked like.

  Everything had been perfectly choreographed so far. Her own ministers, accompanied by Theo, had met Vall and his party dockside. The ambassador disembarked from the stately galley with his impressively-attired attendants. There were four ships in all, his and three more overtly military vessels. The message was not lost on her, for the word was that they towered above most of her own vessels. The procession proceeded through a couple of smaller riverside towns and then came the stunning first view of Windermere Castle. With something like a hundred and forty hair-dressers, barbers, food and wine-tasters, a personal meat-carver, masseurs and masseuses in Vall’s party, her chamberlain had been forced to make do. Her own household staff were scattered all up and down the town, with the younger males sleeping all lined up in rows, on cots. They were in the long rooms above the royal stables—a fact which had necessitated some cleaning and burning as it was dubbed.

  With Lowren’s recent example still foremost in their minds, security was tight but as unobtrusive as possible. For the duration of the official visit, some of her troops were sleeping in tents in the yard between the inner and outer walls.

  As soon as Ambassador Vall left, hopefully soon but one couldn’t simply shove him out the door again, repairs and new construction would begin on the town and keep’s fortifications. There was precious little time before spring and the season for campaigning would commence. With new earthen outer-works, and outlying bastions, their plans drawn up long beforehand, much could be done before the freeze. Much might also be done after the spring thaw, when the land tended to soften while sea ice still made navigation dangerous if not impossible. Work would go on until the battle was actually joined.

  Vall’s presence was not a good sign. He was a little more important than Windermere usually rated. She had no illusions about her status in the councils of kings and khans and emperors.

  While the Great Khan was paying her rather more attention than her small but prosperous kingdom might generally rate in strategic terms, these were uncertain times. The attention was most definitely unwelcome, but what could one do about it? She could hardly refuse to consult with her neighbor and quite frankly, greatest trading partner. As such things were labeled. Both nations regulated trade via the mechanism of duties on all major commodities. Such trade had always been mutually beneficial in the past.

  We must have something he wants, she realized. There was a sick feeling in her belly, mostly because no one had the slightest idea of what that might entail, outside of outright submission and no doubt a costly tribute. All of that would be wrapped up in the fog of a very uncertain future, with the Khan’s guiding hand in the selection or appointment for virtually every office. The technique was well-known, and he had a track record which she and her counselors had examined with great care. The Khan was raising the stakes. That much seemed obvious.

  Troops lined the road rising up from the town, four thousand of them in all, many hastily drawn from nearby garrison towns, all liveried in her household colors. They stood, with drawn swords presented, straight up the bridge of the nose, eyes looking straight ahead.

  Regimental officers saluted in turn from atop their mounts as the cavalcade drove by, with color-boys holding all flags butt to the ground and perfectly vertical.

  The only thing that might have spoiled the scene was the complete lack of any breeze at all, the resulting clouds of tiny black insects, and the sky, which had the curiously leaden-blue color that presaged a late-afternoon storm. Bulky thunderheads loomed to the west, making Windermere stand out in stark contrast with her hard vertical lines and pale stonework. As if to save the weather’s reputation, an errant shaft of golden sunshine came slanting down just as the first carriage pulled up. For a moment there it was sublime. Vall’s door was opened by a waiting attendant, and he got out, helping a female companion and then sneaking a quick peek around before his face turned and lifted to confront Eleanora.

  She stood three steps up from the bottom with outstretched hands.

  “My Lord Vall. On behalf of ministers and state, and the right good and honorable citizens of Windermere, I bid thee greetings.” She smiled, and bowed her head.

  The slightest bending of the knees conveyed the feminine version of a royal greeting to persons of importance. There weren’t very many of those who rated it, but any Ambassador of the Khan would have expected no less and he graciously tipped his head.

  He put his foot on the bottom step.

  “My Lord and Master, the Khan sends his greetings and felicitations. This is La-Eisha, first among my concubines.” Almond-shaped eyes stared at the Queen in unfeigned admiration of
the most juvenile nature.

  Vall looked around, a small, tired, extremely competent and as word had it, rather vain little man with the power to treat with kingdoms. Even under the traditional metal skull-cap, he looked prematurely bald, with curious, pale, bleached-looking eyebrows.

  “It looks like we’re in for a spot of rain, Majesty.”

  With a wry grin at the Ambassador’s unexpectedly mild wit, (but what else did we expect?) and now that Theodelinda was hurrying from her carriage to assist, Eleanora did her royal curtsy again, and then turned to lead the party inside.

  Feeling self-conscious and foolish, but with nary a trace of it on her calm features, she took the arm on the opposite side of the whore and conducted Ambassador Vall into the calm, measured quiet of her home.

  One step at a time, and they must all try not to say anything to provoke him.

  This visit was rather sudden and she wondered why he was here at all. The two countries had trade consuls in all major ports and cities on a reciprocal basis. Ostensibly, Talonna, the previous ambassador, had been relieved for reasons of ill health. Not that the former ambassador’s health issues couldn’t have been faked, but her own impression was that Talonna was a sick man and never should have been sent out in the first place. The whole episode was causing her to question and second-guess almost anything any foreign power or potentate did, or said, wrote, or reportedly did or said or wrote.

  ***

  After the usual round of state dinners, a festival of flowers and music, and other public affairs during which Lord Vall had been feted and lionized extensively, the time had finally come for a frank, face to face talk. There would be the minimum of attendants. It was early afternoon, when the palace could be strangely quiet. Breakfast was over, morning Court sessions had been cancelled, and the staff members were off in their own strange little worlds. How everyone could just disappear like that, and in such a short time, had always been one of the great mysteries of the queen’s life. She was more appreciative than curious and so she had never asked.

  Lord Vall had brought only his personal secretary to take notes and have charge of any documents he might wish to consult. For Lord Vall to carry his owned damned papers would be an imposition upon his dignity, and one of the highest order. Any rational person could see that.

  He at least had the grace to leave his concubines behind.

  Eleanora had Lord Pell, her own Minister of Commerce, and Gilbert, her private secretary, to make a full and accurate record of the proceedings. Eleanora had the feeling this was a vital consideration when dealing with just such a one as Vall, and not incidentally, his Lord and Master Jumalak.

  Theo and two beefy soldiers would be watching from hidden niches through small peepholes.

  Presumably Lord Vall was not here to assassinate her, but one never knew. Such things had happened, as they all knew.

  “Ah. At last. Now we can speak our minds.” Lord Vall looked like he had just swallowed a canary, or perhaps thought he was about to. “Thank you for all of the wonderful entertainment and hospitality, but we must, needs be, get down to a little work.”

  He had big, dark, expressive eyes and some rather effeminate mannerisms to go with them. The whole act was a kind of unspoken pantomime, she decided. Don’t be fooled by the fool act.

  “Yes, it’s good to be away from the madding crowd. This is our opportunity to finally get to know one another a little better, as people first, and those charged with the governing of a great people second.” Eleanora sat in a comfortable chair beside a crackling fire in one of the more intimate chambers in the part of the palace reserved for public reception. “We can never really forget, can we? I do my best to enjoy my people, and I like to think I give them something precious in return for my good fortune. I call it good government.”

  She smiled, and it was like a cobra spotting lunch.

  “So. Lord Vall. What can I do for you?”

  The Minister of Commerce quickly lifted a scented handkerchief and stifled a sudden, dry little cough.

  “Ah-ha.” Vall’s liquid eyes took in the Minister, smiling and sitting a little straighter. “Well! You did warn me about her Majesty, didn’t you?”

  None of the Khan’s ambassadors had been entirely without charm. That was part of the job, to appear nice at all times.

  Pell kept his eyes downcast, only coming back with a little shrug. But if truth be told, his hearing wasn’t the best these days and he really had to work to follow along sometimes. His useful days were becoming rather numbered. He was wondering if he would be able to adequately serve the Queen in this sort of thing.

  Vall beamed at the Minister of Commerce, a ruddy old gentleman, quick with an abacus or a tariff for that matter, but the sort of fuddy-duddy who would not, must not, could not say shit if he had a mouthful.

  A fine flush began to creep up Lord Pell’s neck under Vall’s unabashed scrutiny, and he avoided a quick glance from Her Majesty.

  When Eleanora spoke, it was with precision.

  “Yes. Ha-ha. That’s quite all right. Lord Pell did well to prepare you in advance for a conversation with me. Or my cousin Theodelinda, for that matter. We speak our minds when we can. When we have to. When we must. For she speaks for all of us in so many things…what is it exactly that we can do for our great Lord and Master, Jumalak, the Great Khan of the Hordes?”

  This time it was Vall’s turn to blush.

  “Well. It really isn’t like that.” He laid a special emphasis on the last word but she wasn’t buying it.

  He began again.

  “It’s really more a matter of certain, ah, clarifications.”

  “Ah.”

  Even Pell got into the act. There was something frosty in the tone—very few men could have projected it so well, so unmistakably.

  “Oh.”

  Eleanora had the sudden urge to reach over and pat him on the arm or something. He really was a dear sometimes.

  Lord Vall’s gaze switched to Lord Pell who returned a wintry smile, pale blue eyes gleaming at that ingenuously open visage.

  “We’ve never doubted your, er, frankness, nor the Great Khan’s, ah, sincerity, Lord Vall.”

  The Ambassador’s jaw dropped slightly. This was beginning to look like a tough reception.

  “And you’re right, Your Eminence—I did try and warn you.”

  Vall nodded thoughtfully, finally tearing himself away from Pell, whom he had met previously. At one time the fellow had been a member of a trade delegation to the capital and some other major cities of the Great Khan.

  At the time, he seemed competent enough, nothing more. He was quite a bit younger then, seven or eight years Vall recalled. But as he now saw him, perhaps there was more—much more, lurking behind a carefully-contrived surface. Competent back then—possibly still competent even in his old age.

  Eleanora sat there, strongly tempted to cross her arms, which she could not do as the wooden arms of this particular chair wouldn’t allow it, being too high and too close in to her sides. It was all she could do to clutch the front corners of the arms in white-knuckled impatience and tap her little foot where the gentleman, seated directly across from her on a low couch, could clearly and plainly see it peeking out from under her stiff silk brocade.

  If one must bluff, then at least look the part.

  “Very well, then. And it is good to be able to speak plainly. My compliments to the Queen, and I mean no disrespect or offense—but I can see that she is neither a fool, nor does she suffer fools gladly. This may save us a little beating about the bush as people say—”

  “Yes?”

  She waved Lord Pell off. Hopefully Vall would get to it.

  “The Great Khan offers his greetings and salutations—”

  “Aw, for crying out loud—”

  “Yes, yes. I’m sorry, it’s just that this is all so very difficult.” Vall was sweating now, something he was most distinctly unused to.

  He had gotten a little too accustomed to watching
other people sweat.

  It was devilishly hot in this room. He smiled, nodding when he realized it could be deliberate. It certainly could be…

  He reached for the water carafe. The Queen herself, and her minister, seemed cool and affable enough as they exchanged glances.

  Vall had heard of a monarch, eons ago, with ice packed into an overstuffed conference chair and a drain going through the floor. That king had a wonderful flue system and had ducted the heat under the floors of his palace. It was perhaps more myth than history, not that such systems weren’t built of course. They were just extremely expensive.

  Lord Vall took a deep breath, and waved away an offer of certain documents proffered by his man.

  “My Lord would like certain assurances.”

  “Of what?”

  “Lord Pell.”

  Queen Eleanora gave the Minister of Commerce a significant look. His brow lowered, his jaw worked this way and that, and he lowered his forehead, a very bleak look on his face as he regarded Lord Vall.

  There was something he wanted to say very, very badly.

  “What is it exactly, that our good friend and colleague across the sea, our brother the Great Khan Jumalak requires?”

  She nodded as the barely-chastened Lord Vall took the documents now, the Ambassador’s secretary leaving their chair to scuttle across on bended knee and supply them with copies for their own eyes.

  “Well. Bearing in mind the distinct possibility of peace being lost in the region—”

  Pell snorted at that, and she held up a hand again, with no real hint of impatience. It was just a command.

  “…and the likelihood that the Emperor Kullin, will continue to adhere to certain aggressive and provocative postures in the affairs of others…namely, and to wit, dominating by threats and belligerence his smaller neighbors, who are the mutual friends of both of our nations…”

  “You mean, like Sinopus?” Lord Pell nailed him with that one, or so he thought.