Part 11 (1/2)
”We've need o' craftiness, if we're to avenge Culloden,” Hector declared. Charlie knew he referred to the battle in 1746, when the last Jacobite force was defeated, but it seemed late to do anything about that.
Near sunset, an honor guard fetched them. They tramped out of the castle through an awed silence. Every native in the neighborhood had gotten the word and come to watch-close-packed lines of amber-skinned beings in mostly drab clothes, held back by armed troopers in ring mail or jerkins. The procession went to the north sh.o.r.e of the island, where a course had been marked on the beach.
Surf boomed, nearly invisible in a chill, thick fog which tolled over the waters. That mist smelled of salt and seaweed, but the low sun turned it golden. Solemnly, Lord Dzenko removed Hector's cap and placed on the furry round head a purple fruit the size of a clenched fist. The Hoka stood unflinching, nothing but love and encouragement in his beady gaze. Mishka took Charlie's arm and, just as gravely, strode fifty huge paces over the sand before he stopped and turned.
A few trusted warriors accompanied them. n.o.body was allowed near Hector and Dzenko. Spectators along the strand were dim blurs in the mist.
”May the G.o.ds guide your aim,” said Mishka as he put a c.o.c.ked crossbow in Charlie's hands.
Another soldier whispered, ”How sure our baron is of the Prophecy's fulfillment, that he stands right beside the target!” For at this distance, both of them were lost to sight.
Charlie hefted the weapon. Its wooden frame was cold and damp. He was astonished at the weight. The cord that powered it had been wound tight. The short quarrel rested in a groove in the stock. Its razor-sharp steel head would go clear through Hector if it struck him.
The human hesitated. Mishka was standing close, able to see what he did entirely too well. Charlie tried moving the crossbow around, but these warriors were made of stern stuff. Although the deadly quarrel swung past their noses, none of them blinked.
Abruptly a gust of wind brought a streamer of fog which turned everything hazy. Charlie swung the weapon to his shoulder. He had to miss but dared not be obvious about it. Yes, he thought, this must be the right aim, to put his shot safely out into the waves. He squeezed the trigger. The crossbow tw.a.n.ged, banged, and slammed back against him.
For a moment, only the surf spoke. Then to his stupefaction, cheers began to lift from the crowd he could barely see.
”Struck! Struck fair and square! . . . Cloven through the core! . . . A wondrous firing, nay, incredible, miraculous! He is the Prince of the People! Rejoice, rejoice!”
Through the fog loomed the lean figure of Dzenko and the stocky one of Hector. The baron held in his left hand the halves of a bellfruit, in his right a crossbow quarrel.
”Congratulations, my Prince!” he shouted.
”We didna doot ye for a meenute,” Hector added.
Night brought clear air and a nearly full moon. The moon of New Lemuria is smaller than that of Earth, but also closer. It shows larger and brighter in the sky and raises higher tides.
Charlie looked out the window of the upstairs room, upon a castle turned to silver and shadows. The hush of night contrasted with the din of evening's celebrations. Charlie was alone with Dzenko.
The n.o.bleman sat near a brazier which glowed to fight off the chill. He toyed with a knife such as every Talyinan carried. Candle flames made the blade s.h.i.+mmer against gloom.
”You faked that test,” Charlie accused him. ”You knew I'd aim wide and out to sea. You arranged for n.o.body to be near enough to see what happened. As soon as you heard my bow go off, you palmed the bellfruit on Hector's head and let a split one fall from your sleeve, along with a quarrel.”
Dzenko smiled. ”Sir Hector believes you struck truly, Prince,” he answered.
”A Hoka will believe anything, if it suits his fancy!” The adulation lavished on Charlie the past hours had emboldened him. ”Why did you do it? You've visited the League compound often. You know I'm not allowed to meddle in your politics.”
”But you are allowed to travel,” Dzenko pointed out. ”If the natives choose to interpret your actions in special ways, that's scarcely your fault, is it?”
”Do you really mean for me to do those silly Feats-or rig them for me the way you did this one?”
Dzenko stroked his whiskers. ”We can but try.”
”I won't!”
”I fear you must.” Dzenko's tones stayed low and smooth. ”The whole of Roshchak has the news. Already boats must be bearing it elsewhere. I warned you what the reaction would be to an impostor. Well, what of the reaction when hopes are blasted? Besides your own life, Charles, think of the other lives that would be lost, as people rose in rebellion and, lacking proper military guidance, got cut down by Olaghi's army. No, face the fact: You have a destiny.”
”To do what?”
”To help overthrow a cruel tyrant. I know you Earthlings want to see more freedom in this world. Well, for years Olaghi has been taking away what there was.”
”I, well, I have heard-from Toreg and Mishka-some complaining about you barons having to pay heavy tribute and reduce the size of your armed forces. But that's just your cla.s.s and the professional warriors who feel hurt.”
Dzenko shook his head sadly. ”Prince, consider. Where can we barons get the means to pay off Olaghi, except out of our commoners? And in addition, his tax gatherers squeeze them directly-heartlessly. Those who are ruined by it must go either into beggary or into Olaghi's immediate service. I suspect that is the real purpose behind the new taxes, not any need of the kingdom. And as for whittling down the household troops of the barons, it does more than make them unable to revolt. It means they can no longer patrol their fiefs well. Thus bandits and pirates are again rising up to prey on the people.” He lifted his knife. ”Prince,” he said, and his voice rang, ”by this, my steel, I charge you to help me right these grievous wrongs. If your spirit be true, you cannot refuse.”
Charlie understood that he had no real choice. Unless he could somehow give Dzenko the slip, he was in the baron's power. If he didn't cooperate, he could be quietly murdered-or maybe tortured till he yielded.
Yet was Dzenko's cause an evil one? Charlie harked back to various unhappy remarks which Pomfrey had let drop. The Plenipotentiary frankly wished that Olaghi had never been born.
Suppose he, Charles Edward Stuart, did play out this charade of the Five Feats. As clever a leader as Dzenko would find ways to make them come out right. Afterward, Dzenko could be left in charge of the kingdom. He was said to govern his own province effectively, and he should be far more agreeable to suggestions from the League than Olaghi was.
As for Charlie, he saw himself as a liberator, a man on a white horse-no, yachi-riding down the streets of Bolgorka, capital of Talyina, while crowds cheered and threw flowers. Later they would erect statues to him. . . .
”My father will be frantic,” Charlie protested weakly.
”I will send him a message that you have decided to accept my offer of a guided tour through the whole realm,” Dzenko answered. ”He can proceed on his voyage. I have League funds available, to buy pa.s.sage home for you and your companion after you have completed your mission.”
”My father will be furious,” Charlie said, but without force. When he heard the facts, Captain Stuart would have to admit that his son could not have behaved otherwise.
t.i.tle: Hokas Pokas Author: Poul Anderson & Gordon R. d.i.c.kson ISBN: 0-671-57858-8 1983 by Poul Anderson & Gordon R.
Copyright: d.i.c.kson Publisher: Baen Books
6.
Songs of Experience: The Tiger
For the sake of discretion and, he said, the youth's personal safety, Dzenko sent Charlie off before dawn, in care of Mishka, to a hunting lodge he owned in the woods. There the two of them spent four days. Mishka taught his charge the rudiments of the knightly arts-yachi riding, the use of weapons, the correct forms for boasting of one's own prowess. Charlie declined to study shmiriz guzzling.
In the evenings they talked. Far from being an ignorant roughneck, Mishka was widely traveled and had many stories to tell. He had been born in another province to a poor fisher family. After an adventurous career as a sailor, he enlisted in Dzenko's guard largely because he wanted to be near the League compound and learn more about the strangers from the stars. In a few years he had risen to the top. He had been saving his pay and hoped before long to retire to his birthplace and marry.
He in his turn asked eager questions. When Charlie remarked that he must be exceptional, Mishka said not. Though most Talyinans were illiterate, respect for learning was ingrained in the peasantry, as well as the aristocracy.
”Then you can't believe this nonsense about my being the Prince,” Charlie said.
”M-m, I don't know,” the trooper responded. ”My father always taught me the Prophecy was a direct revelation from one of the G.o.ds. You wouldn't want me disrespectful of my father, would you? Of course, maybe you're not the Prince.”
”I know I'm not.”
”Do you? Nothing in the Prophecy says he'll be aware of it himself till after the Five Feats have been performed, any more than it says he'll've been born on this world. We just took for granted he would be. Let's wait and see how things go, hai?”
Charlie almost blurted forth how the first deed had been faked but stopped himself in time. Mishka's code of honor would not let him admit his lord might have acted less than ethically-not without much better proof than was available here. Such an accusation would only lose Charlie his friends.h.i.+p, and the human felt very alone.