Blood Moon
Sydney Alexis
XIII
Word came from Crycus' spies that the king was growing weary of waiting. Proof enough came when a shipload fully loaded with a small portion of the king's army arrived to accompany myself and my troops to his homeland. I had been expecting the ship for days, even going so far as having my wives decorate the mead hall and palace in decadent fabrics. The king was never known for his patience. I was actually surprised that it had last this long. When a traveling merchant brought word of a well decorated ship whose passengers were horribly lost, I knew it was them.
Provisions had been made to house the higher ranking officiates in the palace. The mead hall was large enough for the rest to bunk. I ordered the servants to start preparing the feast and rode out to the edges of my land and docks. Tuvok and several of my best men accompanied me.
Through the myriad of ships and twisting market lanes we rode. The people stopping, bowing and making way as the guards rode ahead, my colors emblazoned on their steeds. The air was thick with suet and fire, bile and urine, and the ever present hammer and anvil of the smithies. Between the hovels and swarms of ashen faces of the crowds grew the mast of a large ship coming in to port. She was still nearing her mooring point as my small troupe arrived on the well-worn planks.
Dock workers made their apologies and wormed through us to grab the mooring lines. The guards turned toward me, waiting for the signal to dismount, but I didn't budge. Strategically it was better to be on the horse--more impressive show of strength to distance yourself visually. That and I knew at least fourteen different ways to use the horse to kill those men for me.
I blinked against the noon sun, taking in the massive vessel. It's girth took up the space of two smaller merchant ships. The bow was covered in intricately carved symbols used to cover the mother tongue's blessing for the ship. My gaze was drawn to the colors flying from the rear. It was the king's crest complete with cross and Latin phrasing.
A plank was lowered to allow the men bridge the gap between the deck of the ship and the landing. The first across the plank was a well dressed man in full knight's regalia from the three hundred pound chainmail set to the ornamental sword. He would be an easy take. My swordhand was itching on the hilt.
"Crycus I presume."
His total lack of recognition of title did not go unnoticed by myself or my men. It was, in all likelihood an attempt to anger me and draw me into an armed skirmish with a king's soldier--an act of war according to the king's customs. His actions within the first few seconds of landing were enough to confirm that they had more than just one agenda to serve.
I allowed my swordhand to tighten visibly on my weapon in response. It was neither ceremonial in design nor was it unused.
"To what do I own the...'pleasure' of your visit?"
"His Royal Highness King Solomon sent us under orders to fetch you and your army."
I had to stifle a laugh wondering if this dolt practiced that line all the way here.
"Fetch? I am neither a dog nor am I expected or ordered to do anything of the sort. You came here to request I send assistance. Orders come from the king alone and, unless you were crowned in my absence from the motherland or you are carrying signed orders worded exactly as such from the king, I suggest you remember your station. I am a Lord not some backwater misfit soldier. You will address me with title and you will address me on your knees until your memory no longer fails you."
The seething hatred instantly melted across his face as a smirk dawned across mine. This truly was the expected, obvious move--the king sending an envoy of Christian men to 'fetch' me. The leader had to be a large, hunking man whom the king deemed a worthy fighter for Crycus. Time ago it would have been Thomas sent to do such a job. Of course I had never forgotten my place.
I waited a candlemark and still the man did not move to his knees nor did he address me in the method that was proper. I watched in my peripheral vision as Tuvok drew a dagger from his belt. With a glance I stopped him. This was my punishment to dealt out.
I released the stiletto concealed in my sleeve and watched it hit its target--a hairsbreadth from his heart. He grasped at the tiny blade and sank to his knees. A gurgling sound uttered from his mouth as the blade beside his heart beat in time with it. He was bleeding out slowly, eyes glazing over with death. Finally, he fell to his side, blood dripping from his lips into his beard.
In the time it took for him to die, the deck of the ship was covered with men with blades drawn. Yelling and clattering of chainmail against the wooden boards. The entire scene was pathetic; his men were too lacked after their long journey.
"Obviously the Old Coot isn't running his unit as closely as he once was. My men know that I do not accept any form of disobedience or disrespect to myself or my family. In return, I take care of my own. I will not have my men fighting along side any army that would turn on them.
"You may take my word and this carcass back to the king. Once he sees the markings on the blade, he will know that cause was had for me to take this life," I said, pulling the reigns to turn.
"If I may, Lord Crycus," the second across the plank began to speak and my view was drawn to him. The figure was cloaked but on his knees, head bend with the proper respect of the Old Days. "The king sent for you and your men. We were asked to leave as soon as possible."
"If the king wished my help, he would have sent more respectful emissaries."
"Solomon believed Sir Villers to be an honorable, Christian man, and, to some extent, it was true. However, he lacked esteem for those in power that do not follow the One God."
"And am I to assume that you do?"
"I was sent because I still follow the Old Ways, and, no, I do not expect you to believe me."
"The king doesn't tolerate men that follow that path."
The figure squared his shoulders, tensing ever so. It seemed as though I touched upon a sore spot--something I might be able to probe later on.
"He does if they fight well."
I laughed brusquely. "His methods of training are antiquated. His men poorly prepared." I should know. I killed all I faced.
It was an intentional barb. One that Crycus would have made, and, in actuality, one that I wholeheartly agreed with.
"Lord Crycus, you, yourself were trained under his methods, were you not?"
I laughed aloud once again, this time in humor. This one was quick. I motioned for him to stand. I shifted in my seat, placing both my hands on the mount rather than my weapons.
"Confidence and a strong will. You must be in command now."
"I am," he replied with no sense of ego, no anger.
"And how am I to address you?"
He lowered the hood of his cloak and turned toward me. For the second time in my life, I felt my heart palpitate. I'd never expected to see him again, but, in retrospect, that thought had been foolhardy. Out of all the squires present, he had shown the most promise. It was why I had agreed to take him.
The years had been kind to him in outward appearance only. He'd grown to be well toned, his skin darkened by hours working in the sun. The blade he wore was sharpened to a gleam but covered in knicks and gouges of battle. Face weary and deeply lined--wrinkles of worry and burdens too numerous to count. A scar on his eyebrow that ran past his left eye. Eyes that were hard, fathomless, and old. Hands that rested a little too easily on the hilt of his blade. What had become of him?
"My title is Sir Harold."
I felt Tuvok stiffen beside me in his saddle and knew that I had dropped character for much too long.
"Well, Sir Harold, preparations for the trip will need to be completed. In the meantime, accommodations have been made for your arrival--lodgings and food. There is a meal waiting for you in the mead hall. My second in command, Tuvok, here will show your men the way."
"Very well."
"Should you need anything else, just ask," I said, turning the reigns and guiding my horse off toward the palace. It wasn't until I had placed a fair amount of space between myself and Harry that I felt the weight in my chest loosen. Breath coming more easily.
I slowed my steed, letting her amble toward the fork in the road. I needed these few minutes to collect my thoughts. His presence here would serve to make things more difficult to remain secret. No doubt, they would be meeting up with the king's spies and learning the tidbits of intell they had managed to gather--odd patterns I had recently taken to, all the major movements I had made, anything out of character I had done not to mention the increased training. In all likelihood, Sir Harold would challenge me. If he had improved over the years as I had, it might be an even match.
At the fork, I loosened the horse's reigns, allowing her to drinking from the shallow pool there. To the left, was the path to the castle where the wives were busy packing up their belongings and servants were preserving foods for the long trip. To the right, I heard the tale-tell sounds of my army practicing. When my ride had had her fill, I steered her toward the right.
I rode straight to the training field where Neelix was schooling the men on archery--long distance, multiple arrows, and battling with them in close contact. His discerning eyes were following the line, making a mental list of those to place in the archery league.
There was beauty in the plump man's movements. Smooth and calculated with no hint of the rigidity that he moved with when he walked. On the battlefield, in the silence and expected pattern of war, Neelix was, surprisingly enough, a hardened professional. His forte had proven to be long distance weaponry and guerilla warfare. Tiger traps, trip wires, and laying false trials were his preferences. He'd taught them all.
I observed from a safe distance, watching Neelix watch them. In the shadows provided by the trees, I regained composure. I willed myself not to think of the one eventuality I thought I would never face--Harry. Time was he'd held Tuvok's place in my esteem. I'd watched him train and work with troops the way Neelix was now. I closed my eyes for a brief seconds, shook my head, and forced myself to focus on Neelix. Tuvok trusted him well enough to leave some of the training in his hands. Personally, I was indifferent to him. With the escalated time table, I found myself needing to make a decision. It was true enough the men trusted him, myself, and Tuvok. Neelix though...he was more approachable to them because he was lower on the command chain. He was not all business in training; he would joke with them when situations because serious, he took time out to meet all of their families, and he saw to it that each man had the supplies they needed. The latter fell under his position description. Meeting the army's family did not. There was a time I made it a point to do that, but I was quickly cured. Holding grieving widows as they pound on your chest and weep on your shoulder was enough. They always blame you, scream at you, ask you why you didn't protect their husbands never wanting the real answer--you were too busy protecting yourself.
An handful of candlemarks after my arrival, one of the brighter soldiers noticed me and dropped to his knees. The others followed suit as I finally rode toward them.
"As expected, the king's army has arrived. You will need to be more aware of your surroundings now more than before. In all likelihood, their scouts will be out trying to get a sense of how well prepared you are. Never forget that you are my men not the kings and that no man outside this grouping is to be trusted."
"But, Lord Crycus, I thought we were the king's army through you as his extension," the unsure voice said. A path was cut of the men on either side of the speaker. I stopped my steed in front of him. Had he not been a strong fighter and had this not been a morale boosting speech, I would have cut him down.
"Neither the king nor the king's men have made nor will make any preludes to you, and, if they do, it is only because you are a means to an end. In their eyes you are pagans with swordarms that exist solely to serve your purpose and to be cut down by the hand of their god. You are pawns to them, and they will treat you as such. On that battle field you can only trust yourselves and those you see around you.
"It is for this reason that Neelix, Tuvok, and myself will be stepping up your training. You will be ability grouped by your best weapons and will learn mastery level techniques on them. Those of you with multiple weapon skills will be pulled aside and serve as my knights. You will need to be prepared for the king's proficiency testing and jousting.
I swung down off my horse, my hand instantly falling to the hilt of my sword as I paced in front of the gathered men. They looked weary and lean. Their skin darkened deeply by the sun. Many long months of training had made them hardened physically and mentally. I knew, instinctively, they were ready to battle. That they were nearly at their peak level. I
"Your progress has been steady over this year. When we began, some of your could scarcely raise a sword blade off the ground, and, today, some of you have mastered it. Others have found their skills lie with other weapons or medicine. You have come a long way and, though I have not said it before, I am proud of your progress. In my opinion, you have earned a short respite..."
My speech was cut into by the uncharacteristic whoops of shock and joy.
"However, I expect to find you all back in good health and spirits on the sunrise of the third day. Dismissed."
The footfalls of my army rushing back toward town muffled the sound of hooves beating a slow path to the training grounds. As a result, I visibly reacted to Tuvok's unexpected voice. The Moors tried hard to hide his amusement.
"Sir Harold requested the use of the training grounds as expected."
I nodded mutely. It was standard practice after a long voyage.
"Good. It will give us an opportunity to see how well trained the men are."
"As well as divide our men into appropriate categories."
"Solomon enjoys the standard prop and circumstance of the Old Ways. He will, in all likelihood, expect me to joust against his best man."
"And when was the last time you did so?"
"Fifteen years ago...give or take. Unless you count that time in Cairo. Of course...I was on a camel and my lance was actually more a stalk of papyrus."
I turned to see Tuvok's raised eyebrow and had to fight the urge not to laugh.
"There are not enough dinars in the world for me to tell you that story."
"And dare I ask when the last time you jousted was Tuvok?"
A snort came in response.
"That long?" I said, laughing.
"Perhaps you can ask young Sir Harold to practice with you."
"Perhaps," I replied curtly, ending the friendly banter from before.
Tuvok paused, looking out across the practice field. I followed his gaze through the well worn dirt and the deep gouges in the earth. Past the targets and discarded arrows to the walls surrounding the city.
"He was my squire," I said it simply in a low voice that only Tuvok would be able to hear.
"Will his presence here be a problem?" The question was worded carefully, each word spoken clearly. There was an unspoken question behind it and I had to force back the bile in my throat as I replied.
"He helped me see my family to Elysian Fields, Tuvok. I cannot repay his kindness to me that night by ending his life without cause. I will simply need to be more cautious."
"You will need to tell Kathryn."
"It has been my experience that, should you wish a person to act naturally around someone, the best course of action is to take none so far as warning them."
"Perhaps," he replied simply.
"You think my decision unsound?"
A beat. Tuvok's gaze remained on the earth as mine had before.
"Before this date, I have found your choices to be logical...calculated for the most part, however, Kathryn has a tendency to do the unexpected. I have noticed, on several occasions, she has called you by your given name. While only in the presence of myself and you, she never took into consideration that someone might be listening in to your conversations. Whether consciously or not, one slip as such is enough for them to identify you."
"And you suggest that a half truth is better than none?"
"It is your choice ultimately, but I believe it would be the correct move. It would make Kathryn more aware of her speech and actions toward you. It would make the circumstances more real to her."
I nodded, taking his suggestion under advisement.
"Do you still wish for the upper ranking men to be housed in the palace? I'm sure accommodations could be made..."
"It's standard practice, Tuvok. Not doing so would make them more suspicious. Just be sure to stow any equipment we don't want stolen in servant's quarters..."
"And lock down rooms in royal areas to draw their attention. Understood."
"Make sure all of my wives had guards with them at all times, and set up patrols of the taverns in town. Tell them to expect trouble tonight."
"And should any of the men cause problems?"
"Throw them in the dungeon until they sleep it off."
"Understood, my Lord."
I left his side, remounting my horse.
"This evening, we will be having the standard feast to celebrate their arrival. It is customary for all dignitaries to attend."
"I shall endeavor to attend, Lord Crycus."
"Until then, the day is yours, Tuvok," I said, riding out of the field toward the fork in the road.