Helliconia spring, p.36
Helliconia Spring, page 36
While auxiliary trades grew up to cater for the new obsession, Aoz Roon furthered his plans for turning his hunters into light cavalry. They drilled incessantly. Old objectives were forgotten. Meat became scarce, promises of more meat more plentiful. In order to stave off complaints, Aoz Roon planned his first mounted foray.
He and his lieutenants chose as their target a small town to the southeast, by name Vanlian, within the province of Borlien. Vanlian was situated on the Voral, where that river broadened into a valley. It was protected on its east side by tall crumbling cliffs honeycombed by caves. The inhabitants had dammed the river to create a series of shallow lakes in which they bred fish, the chief item of their diet. Sometimes traders brought the fish, dried, to Oldorando. Vanlian, with over two hundred inhabitants, was larger than Oldorando, but had no strongholds equivalent to the stone towers. It could be destroyed by surprise attack.
The marauding cavalry numbered thirty-one. They attacked at Batalix-dawn when the inhabitants of Vanlian were out of their caves and attending to their fish harvest. Although their town was surrounded by ditches backed by steep embankments, the hoxneys climbed this fortification with ease, and bore down on the helpless people, their riders uttering wild cries and striking out with their spears.
Within two hours, Vanlian was destroyed. The men were killed, the women raped. Huts were burned down, fires were started in the caves, the dykes regulating the artificial lakes despoiled. A celebratory feast was held among the ruins, with much of the local small ale consumed. Aoz Roon made a speech praising his men and their mounts. None of the cavalry had died, although one hoxney had been mortally wounded by a Vanlianian sword thrust.
The victory against tall numerical odds was achieved so easily because the local people were aghast at seeing brightly clad men riding in on bright steeds. They stood with mouths open to receive their death blow. Only youths and children of both sexes were spared. These were forced to round up their livestock and move off in the direction of Oldorando, driving pigs, goats, and cattle before them. Under the eyes of six cavalry selected as guards, they took a day to make a journey that Aoz Roon and his triumphant lieutenants achieved in an hour.
Vanlian was hailed as a great victory. More conquests were called for. Aoz Roon tightened his grip, and the population learned that conquests call for sacrifices. The Lord addressed his subjects on this question when he and his cavalry had returned from another successful raid.
“We shall never want again,” he announced. He stood with his arms akimbo and his legs apart. A slave stood behind him, holding Grey’s rein. “Oldorando will be a great place, as legends say that Embruddock was in bygone days. We are like phagors now. Everyone will fear us, and we shall grow rich. We will take in more land, and have more slaves to tend it. Soon, we shall raid Borlien itself. We need more people, there are not enough of us. You women must bear your men more children. Babies will soon be born in the saddle as we spread far and wide.”
He pointed to a wretched huddle of prisoners, guarded by Goija Hin, Myk, and others. “These people will work for us, just as the hoxneys work for us. But for a while we must all work doubly hard, and eat less, so that these things come about. Don’t let me hear you complaining. Only heroes deserve the greatness that will soon be ours.”
Dathka scratched his thigh and looked at Laintal Ay with one eyebrow up and one eyebrow down. “See what we’ve started.”
But Laintal Ay was carried away by excitement. Whatever his feelings for Aoz Roon, he believed many of the things the older man said to be true. Certainly, there was no excitement like that of riding on hoxney-back, being at one with the lively creature, and feeling the wind on one’s cheek and the ground thundering by below. Nothing so wonderful had ever been invented—with one exception.
He said to Oyre, gathering her to him, “You heard what your father said. I have done a great thing—one of the greatest things in history. I have tamed the hoxneys. That’s what you wished, isn’t it? Now you must be my woman.”
But she pushed him away. “You smell of hoxneys, just as my father does. Ever since you were ill, you have talked of nothing but those stupid creatures, good only for their skins. Father talks only of Grey, you talk only of Gold. Do something that makes life better, not worse. If I was your woman, I’d never see you, because you’re out riding all day and night. You men have gone mad over the hoxneys.”
The women in the main felt as Oyre did. They experienced the bad effects of hoxney-mania without its excitements. Forced to work in the fields, they no longer enjoyed a sleepy afternoon’s visit to the academy.
Only Shay Tal took a close interest in the animals. The wild hoxney herds were no longer as plentiful as they had been. Taking alarm at last, they moved to new grazing grounds to the west and south, in order to avoid captivity or slaughter. It was Shay Tal who had the initiative to breed from a mare and a stallion. She set up a stud by King Denniss’s pyramid in which foals were soon being born. The result was a strain of domesticated and mild-mannered animals, easy to train for whatever job was required.
One of the best mares she christened Loyalty. Over all the foals she exercised great care, but her special attention was directed towards Loyalty. She knew that she now held by a halter her means of leaving Oldorando and getting to far Sibornal.
XI
WHEN SHAY TAL WENT
In sun and rain, Oldorando expanded. Before its industrious inhabitants realised what had happened, it had crossed the river Voral, had leaped the marshy tributaries to the north, had stretched out to the corrals on the veldt and the brassimip patches in the low hills.
More bridges were built. None was heroic like the first one. The corps had relearnt the art of sawing planks, carpenters came forth—among both the free and the slaves—for whom arches and joints and abutments presented few problems.
Beyond the bridges, fields were planted and fenced, sties were built for pigs and pens for geese. Food production had to be dramatically increased, to feed the increasing numbers of domesticated hoxneys, and to feed the slaves needed to tend the extra fields. Beyond or between the fields, new towers were built along the old Embruddock lines, to house the slaves and their keepers. The towers were built according to a demonstration given by the academy, using mud blocks instead of stone, and rising only to two stories instead of five. The rains, heavy on occasion, washed away the walls. The Oldorandans cared little for that, since only slaves lived in the new blocks. But the slaves themselves cared—and demonstrated how straw harvested from the cereal fields could be used as overhanging thatch, to preserve the mud buildings and keep them intact even in heavy rainstorms.
Beyond the fields and new towers were bridle paths, patrolled by Aoz Roon’s cavalry. Oldorando was not merely a town but an armed camp as well. Nobody left or entered without permission, except in the traders’ quarters—nicknamed the Pauk—developing to the south side.
For every proud warrior mounted on a steed, six backs must bend in the field. But the harvest was good. The ground gave forth abundantly, following its long rest. Prast’s Tower had been used in cold times to store first salt, than rathel; now it stored grain. Outside, where the ground had been beaten flat, women and slaves worked to winnow an immense pile of grain. The men turned over the grain with wooden paddles, the women flapped skins tied to square frames, fanning away the chaff. It was hot work. Modesty went by the board. The women, at least the young ones, threw off their smart jackets and worked with naked breasts.
Fine particles of dust rose. The dust stuck to the moist skins of the women, powdering their faces, lending their flesh a furry appearance. It rose in the air, creating a pyramid above the scene, gold in the sunlight, before dispersing to fall elsewhere, deadening footfalls on stairs, staining vegetation.
Tanth Ein and Faralin Ferd rode up, closely followed by Aoz Roon and Eline Tal, with Dathka and younger hunters riding behind. They had returned from a hunt and had brought in several deer.
For a minute, they were content to sit in their saddles, watching the women at work. Among the women were the wives of the three lieutenants; they paid no attention to the jocular remarks of their lords. The frames fanned the grain, the men leaned indulgently forward in their saddles, the chaff and dust flew high, flecking the sunshine.
Dol appeared, walking slowly, heavy with child, and Myk the aged phagor walked by her, driving her geese. With her came Shay Tal, her skinniness emphasised by the plumpness of Dol. When they saw the Lord of Embruddock and his men, both women paused, glancing at each other.
“Say nothing to Aoz Roon,” Shay Tal cautioned.
“He’s amenable just now,” Dol said. “He hopes for a boy.”
She strode forward and stood by the side of Grey. Aoz Roon looked at her but said nothing.
She slapped his knee. “Once there were priests to bless the harvest in Wutra’s name. Priests used to bless newborn babes. Priests cared for all, men and women, high and low. We need them. Can’t you capture some priests for us?”
“Wutra!” Aoz Roon exclaimed. He spat into the dust.
“That’s no answer.”
His dark eyebrows and eyelashes were dusted with the golden pepper in the air as he switched his heavy glance beyond Dol to where Shay Tal stood, her dark narrow face as blank as an alleyway.
“She’s been talking to you, Dol, hasn’t she? What do you know or care about Wutra? Great Yuli threw him out, and our forefathers threw out the priests. They’re only lazy mouths to feed. Why are we strong while Borlien is weak? Because we have no priests. Forget this nonsense, don’t bother me with it.”
Dol said, pouting, “Shay Tal says the gossies are angry because we have no priests. Isn’t that right, Shay Tal?” She looked appealingly over her shoulder at the older woman, who still made no move.
“Gossies are always angry,” Aoz Roon said, turning away.
“They’re twitching down there like a bed of fleas,” Eline Tal agreed, pointing at the earth and laughing. He was a big, red-cheeked man, and his cheeks wobbled when he laughed. More and more, he had become Aoz Roon’s closest companion, with the other two lieutenants playing rather subsidiary roles.
Stepping one pace forward, Shay Tal said, “Aoz Roon, despite our prosperity, we Oldorandans remain divided. Great Yuli would not have wished that. Priests might help us become a more united community.”
He looked down at her, and then climbed slowly from his hoxney, to stand confronting her. Dol was pushed to one side.
“If I silence you, I silence Dol. No one wants the priests back. You only want them back because they’ll help fortify your craving for learning. Learning’s a luxury. It creates idle mouths. You know that, but you’re so damned stubborn you won’t give up. Starve yourself if you will, but the rest of Oldorando is growing fat—see for yourself. We grow fat without priests, without your learning.”
Shay Tal’s face crumpled. She said in a small voice, “I do not wish to fight you, Aoz Roon. I’m sick of it. But what you say is not true. We prosper in part because of applied knowledge. The bridges, the houses—those were ideas the academy contributed to the community.”
“Don’t anger me, woman.”
Looking down at the ground, she said, “I know you hate me. I know that’s why Master Datnil was killed.”
“What I hate is division, constant division,” Aoz Roon roared. “We survive by collective effort, and always have done.”
“But we can only grow through individuality,” Shay Tal said. Her face grew paler as the blood mounted in his cheeks.
He made a violent gesture. “Look about you, for Yuli’s sake! Remember what this place was like when you were a child. Try to understand how we have built it to what it is now by united effort. Don’t stand in front of me and try to argue differently. Look at my lieutenants’ women—tits swinging, working in with everyone else. Why are you never with them? Always on the fringe, mouthing discontent, whining.”
“No tit to swing, I’d say,” Eline Tal said, chuckling.
His remark had been intended for the delectation of his friends, Tanth Ein and Faralin Ferd. But it also reached the alert ears of the young hunters, who burst into jeering laughter—all except Dathka, who sat silent, hunched in his saddle, alertly surveying the participants in the momentary drama.
Shay Tal also caught Eline Tal’s comment. Since he was distant kin to her, the remark stung the more. Her eyes glittered with tears and wrath.
“Enough, then! I’ll stand no more abuse from you and your cronies. I’ll worry you no more, Aoz Roon, I’ll argue never again. You’ve seen the last of me, you thickheaded, disappointing, treacherous bully—you and your little pregnant cow of a bedmate! At Freyr-dawn tomorrow, I leave Oldorando for good. I shall depart alone, on my mare, Loyalty, and no one will ever see me more.”
Aoz Roon flung out his arm. “No one leaves Oldorando without my permission. You’re not going from here until you grovel at my feet, begging to leave.”
“We’ll see about that in the morning,” Shay Tal snapped. She turned on her heel, clutched her loose dark furs about her body, and made off towards the north gate.
Dol was red in the face. “Let her go, Aoz Roon, drive her out. Good riddance. Pregnant cow, indeed, the juiceless creature!”
“You keep out of this. I’ll settle this my way.”
“I suppose you’re going to have her killed, like the others.”
He struck her across the face, lightly and with contempt, still looking after the retreating figure of Shay Tal.
It was the night period when everyone slept, though Batalix still burned low in the sky. Although slaves twitched in the dreams of dim-day-sleep, some of the free were still about on this occasion. In the room at the top of the big tower, full council was met, consisting of the masters of the seven old corps, plus two new masters, younger men from newly constituted corps, the harness and lorimers, and the outfitters. Also present were Aoz Roon’s three lieutenants and one of his Lords of the Western Veldt, Dathka. The Lord of Embruddock presided over the meeting, and serving wenches kept their wooden cups filled with beethel or small beer.
After much argument, Aoz Roon said, “Ingsan Atray, give us your voice on this question.”
He was addressing the senior master, a greybeard who ruled over the metal-makers corps, and who had as yet said nothing. The years had curved Ingsan Atray’s spine and turned his scanty hair white, so that the great width of his skull was emphasized; for this reason, he was regarded as wise. He had a mannerism of smiling a great deal, though his eyes, barricaded behind wrinkled lids, always looked wary. He smiled now, squatting on the skins piled on the floor for his comfort, and said, “My Lord, Embruddock’s corps have traditionally protected the women. Women, after all, are our source of labour when the hunters are in the field, and so on. Of course, times are changing, I grant you that. It was different in the times of Lord Wall Ein. But women also serve as channels of much learning. We have no books, but women memorise and pass on the legends of the tribe, as is seen whenever we tell the Great Tale on feast days—”
“Your point, please, Ingsan Atray…”
“Ah, I was coming to it, I was coming to it. Shay Tal may be difficult and so on, but she is a sorceress and learned woman, widely known. She does no harm. If she leaves, she will take other women with her, and so on, and that will be a loss. We masters would venture to say that you were correct in forbidding her to leave.”
“Oldorando’s not a prison,” Faralin Ferd shouted.
Aoz Roon nodded curtly, and looked about. “The meeting was called because my lieutenants disagreed with me. Who agrees with my lieutenants?”
He caught the eye of Raynil Layan, nervously stroking his forked beard.
“Master of the tanners corps, you always like to air your voice—what have you to say?”
“As to that—” Raynil Layan gestured dismissively. “There is always the difficulty of preventing Shay Tal leaving. She can easily slip away, if so disposed. And there is the general principle…Other women will think…Well, we don’t want discontented women. But there’s Vry, for instance, another thinking woman, yet attractive, and she gives no trouble. If you could rethink your order, many would be grateful to you….”
“Speak out and don’t mince your words so,” Aoz Roon said. “You’re a master now, as you wished, and don’t have to cringe.”
Nobody else spoke. Aoz Roon glared at them. All avoided his gaze, burying their faces in their cups.
Eline Tal said, “Why are we worrying? What’s the odds? Let her go.”
“Dathka!” the lord snapped. “Are you going to grant us a single word tonight, since your friend Laintal Ay has not put in an appearance?”
Dathka set down his beaker and looked directly at Aoz Roon.
“All this debate, this talk of principle…it’s rubbish. We all know you and Shay Tal long wage great personal war. So you decide what to do, not us. Kick her out now you have your chance. Why bring us into it?”
“Because it concerns you all, that’s why!” Aoz Roon pounded his fist on the floor. “By the boulder, why does that woman always have such a grudge against me, against everyone? I don’t understand. What rotten maggot chews at her harneys? She keeps on the academy, doesn’t she? She sees herself in a long line of female troublemakers—Loilanun, Loil Bry, who became Little Yuli’s woman…. But where would she go? What would happen to her?”
His sentences seemed wild and disconnected.
No one answered. Dathka had spoken for all of them; all were secretly aghast when he said what he did. Aoz Roon himself had nothing more to say. The meeting broke up.
As Dathka was slipping away, Raynil Layan grasped Dathka’s arm and said softly, “A cunning speech you made. With Shay Tal out of the way, the one you fancy will head the academy, won’t she? Then she’ll need your support….”
