The musketry was dying down as Harmakros' irregulars drove out the last of the Zarthani Knights' auxiliary horse-archers, the rearguard of the Holy Host. So far Kalvan could see only two or three small fires in the village; the heavy rain had soaked the thatch and shingles enough so that they would not burn easily. Not that either side was actually trying to set the village on fire, although the Ruthani mounted bowmen were devilishly hard to kill. Still, they were only fighting to give the survivors of the Holy Host a head start, while Harmakros was mostly trying to keep them from returning to Phyrax Field.
Torches glowed on the battlefield itself, where the Hostigi search parties were collecting enemy wounded. They also had orders to keep away the local peasantry until the fallen weapons and armor were gathered up, but so far the peasants didn't appear to be a problem. Maybe the sheer size and slaughter of the battle had scared them away; the usual here-and-now battle involved fewer men than were contained in one of the wings of either of today's two armies.
Against the torchlight Kalvan could see a rider making his way up the ridge. As he reached the crest, Kalvan recognized Phrames, undoing his red scarf. That scarf had been one of Rylla's name-day gifts to Phrames; on any other man it might have been a calculated insult to Kalvan, but on Phrames it was a symbol of his loyalty to his Great Queen.
"Well done, Phrames. In another moon you can have Rylla embroider the arms of Beshta on that scarf." Kalvan's mind shied away from the thought that even now there might not be any Rylla.
The silence was so long that Kalvan wondered if perhaps he'd overestimated the wits Phrames had left after today's fighting. The moon was disappearing again and another thunderstorm seemed to be building in the southwest, so he couldn't make out the Count's expression.
Then he heard Phrames clear his throat. "Your Majesty-Kalvan. I-I am your servant in-all things. Then a soft laugh. "But don't you think this is selling the colt before the mare has even been brought to stud?"
"No. We are going to have to remove Balthar's head-if it is still on his shoulders. We haven't found his body, and most of the Beshtans ran like the blazes as soon as it was safe to do so. I suspect he'll be giving Our Royal Executioner some business, and all his kin and ministers-"
"Don't forget his tax gatherers."
"Especially his tax collectors. That means nobody of the House of Beshta left except his brother Balthames, who is going to have to remain content with Sashta, or he'll join his brother. That leaves the Princedom of Beshta vacant, and if there's anybody else who deserves it more, I'd like to hear who you think he is-"
"There are many, Your Majesty. Harmakros, Alkides, Hestophes, even Prince Sarrask-"
"Yes, Harmakros and Alkides were invaluable. So was Sarrask. But it was you who held the left wing together after Ptosphes' retreat."
Kalvan held up his hand to block further argument. "I know the First Prince did everything that was humanly possible. But you performed a miracle. If the Knights had rolled up the left wing and hit our center on the flank-well, right now we would not be having this discussion. Nor would there be a Great King of Hos-Hostigos to reward his brave and loyal subjects. Furthermore, to win this war with Styphon's House, Hos-Hostigos is going to need all the miracle workers we can get.
"Also, announcing the new Prince of Beshta before we've settled accounts with the old one has a few other advantages. First, it will keep people from worrying that I'm the kind of Great King who likes to collect vacant Princedoms. I understand they are not popular." An understatement if there ever was one. "We will expect a share of the vacant estates and the treasury, but that is traditional.
"Second, you're popular in Beshta, Phrames. The people and even some of the nobles may rise up against Balthar as soon as they know whom they're rising for. That may save Us the trouble of his execution. It will certainly save Us a good deal of fighting and some lives. If We asked the Beshtans to rise without naming a new Prince, it might look as if We like starting rebellions. That would Us even more unpopular. But naming a successor to a prince attainted for treason-again, that's traditional."
"There is wisdom in all that you say, Your Majesty, but- What's that?"
It sounded as if the battle were starting all over again for a moment-gunshots and shouts, then Kalvan recognized cheers. A short while later he recognized two familiar riders approaching at a trot, both carrying torches. One was Verkan, the other Aspasthar, and both of them had grins that practically met at the backs of their heads.
"The Great Queen and baby are safe!" hollered Aspasthar.
Kalvan was struck speechless.
Aspasthar gentled his pony, then dismounted to kneel before Kalvan.
"Yes, Sire. Both Queen Rylla and the new Princess of Hos-Hostigos are well."
"How-how did they choose you as messenger?"
Aspasthar blushed. "Your Majesty, they didn't exactly-you see, I was listening outside the birthing chamber. When I heard everybody being so happy, I knew what had happened. With all the excitement, I thought it might take a while before they told someone else to ride to you, and I was certain that you would want to know right away, so I got on Redpoll and rode off. But I became lost and had to ask Colonel Verkan for help-"
"And insult my honor into the bargain," Verkan added laughing. He told the rest of the story while Aspasthar blushed even brighter.
Kalvan wanted to run around waving his arms and shouting at the top of his lungs, but he did have his royal dignity to preserve. The boy also had a reward coming.
"Aspasthar. You have earned yourself a good-news bearer's reward. Ten Hostigos Crowns. It shall be paid to you tomorrow, and then you will take it to your-to Baron Harmakros and give nine Crowns of it to him for safekeeping. You are also to say that it is the Great King's command that you be thoroughly thrashed for riding out as you did with no authority or permission, putting yourself in danger and insulting Colonel Verkan as well!"
Aspasthar only had to gulp twice before he stammered, "Y-Yes, Your M-M-Majesty!"
Kalvan turned away and took a few stumbling steps. If there is anybody to thank-thank you for Rylla and our daughter. Now, what to name her-
Kalvan took the offered jug and swigged from it without thinking. For a moment, he felt as if he'd swallowed a mouthful from one of the Foundry crucibles. Nothing was this strong except high-proof corn liquor! Had they gone and invented distilling behind his back while he was off fighting the war?
He sniffed the neck of the jug. Not bourbon, not rye or any other kind of whiskey-just good winter wine. It was only fatigue and battle strain and not having eaten anything for twelve hours that made the winter wine taste so potent.
"Aspasthar demonstrated good sense in one thing," Verkan said. "The lad tied two jugs to Redpoll's saddle, and took some cheese and sausage as well. Probably stole them from the kitchen, of course. Drink up, Your Majesty."
Kalvan took another sip, then felt rain on his face and shook his head. If he drank any more, he'd either have to be carried back to Tarr-Hostigos or else stand here in the rain like a barnyard turkey, his mouth upturned until the rain filled it and he drowned.