The rain had finally let up and beams of golden sunlight were lancing through the trees of their makeshift council site. For an army on the move, it was not an unusual place to hold a Council of War-the nearest hall was five miles away and in ruins. The arching trees overhead gave it the interior spaciousness of a cathedral. Instead of a Catholic bishop or priest giving the sermon, it was Uncle Wolf Tharses, who was wearing his official uniform, a wolf's head hood and wolfskin cape over a mail hauberk.
His usually open and placid face was a mask of fury. "It is wrong, what the Styphoni are doing in Beshta, wrong in the eyes of Galzar Wolfhead, the God of War, and wrong in the name of all the other true gods. War is to be fought among men, not helpless women and children." There was a chorus of agreement from the assembled princes and commanders of the Army of Hos-Hostigos.
This is all true, thought Kalvan, but where were Galzar's priests from Hos-Ktemnos and Hos-Bletha? On the other side, saying most of the same things about Kalvan and Hos-Hostigos, he answered himself cynically.
"Galzar is Judge of Princes and the Wargod will judge both the devil-worshipping Styphoni and the bootlicking Harphaxi, who use Styphon's gold to wage this unjust war against the subjects and people of Hos-Hostigos. It is the field of battle, not the nursery, that is the courtroom of Galzar. Styphon's House has not only declared war against Hos-Hostigos, but also the Palace of the Gods. I have sent Rynnos, Highpriest of Xyphos Town, to Galzar's High Temple in Agrys City to seek a Ban of Galzar on all the armies of Styphon's House!"
That, here-and-now, was an unprecedented declaration of war upon Styphon's House by the only other temple in the Six Kingdoms that had any teeth. Under the Ban of Galzar, any mercenaries fighting for Styphon's House would have to renounce their colors and retire from the field of battle. Kalvan wasn't sure just how many mercenaries were included in the Grand Host, but it had to be a quarter to a third of their force. The only problem was no single highpriest of Galzar could declare the Ban; it had to be decided upon by the Temple Highpriests. It might be a month or two before Rynnos traveled to Agrys City, presented their case against Styphon's House, the case was adjudicated and word sent to all the Six Kingdoms.
Of course, Styphon's House would renounce it and say it was a vicious smear campaign against Styphon's House by the Daemon Kalvan and Tharses himself would have to appear before the High Temple, with his witnesses, and the whole thing would drag on until the war was over, or until no one cared anymore. No one was more concerned about their virtue than the schoolyard bully, and Styphon's House was the Great King of all bullies!
"This is a war against all the gods, by the foul brood of the false god Styphon. When we destroy the army of Styphon, we shall not only kill his evil spawn, but also save our lands from this vile plague that threatens all of the Six Kingdoms. Kill the False Styphoni!"
There was a chorus of "Down Styphon!" and the meeting began to break up. Kalvan motioned Prince Ptosphes over.
"Prince, I have a favor to ask."
Ptosphes' face looked drawn and his color was bad. Camping out in the night air after riding eight to ten hours, day after day, was taking its toll. "Anything you ask that is mine to give is yours, Your Majesty."
Kalvan prepared himself for an explosion. "I want you to return to Tarr-Hostigos. Wait, let me explain, before you speak! It's been over a day now and we still haven't heard back from Colonel Verkan or any of the other Mobile Force. We have too much territory to protect and not enough men to cover it all. I believe we can still beat the Styphoni, but it could be close, very close."
Ptosphes nodded tiredly, not even trying to interrupt.
Kalvan wasn't sure whether if that was a good, or bad, sign. "In case- and I'm only trying to prepare for the worst possible outcome-should we lose the upcoming battle I want someone back at Tarr-Hostigos that I can not only trust but depend on. Harmakros is still at the castle, but he's in no condition to act as the commander of our rearguard. And I need someone to keep an eye on the Princess."
The First Prince nodded. "With his leg gone, Harmakros can no longer sit on a horse. I will do as you ask, Kalvan. I am a stubborn old fool-no, don't protest. But I am not blind or addled. My body has slowed down and it needs more time to rest. Some days my breath is so short, it is hard to breathe. Yes, I will return to Tarr-Hostigos and prepare for the Grand Victory celebration for when the Army of Hos-Hostigos comes home with the head of Roxthar mounted on a pole!"
Surprising himself, Kalvan gave his father in law a big bear hug. "Thank you, Ptosphes. I will miss your wise counsel."
"I see Rylla over there. It's best that I tell her myself."
"Of course."
He heard the shouting and suddenly everyone within sight quickly drew a sword or pistol-or both. Kalvan relaxed when he saw it was Prince Sarrask of Sask, leading at pistol-point a reluctant and fully armored Prince Balthames into the clearing. Three of Sarrask's Bodyguard with halberds at port arms followed behind.
Prince Balthames, who was dressed in silver plate more appropriate for a parade than a field of battle, was shaking badly. The visor to his armet helm was up and Balthames' handsome face was beet red, although it was hard to tell if it was from being roughed-up, anger or embarrassment.
Sarrask spoke first, "I thought it was odd when I noticed Balthames was not at the meeting, since earlier I had seen this popinjay put on his fancy armor."
Kalvan could remember a day when Sarrask's Bodyguard wore more silver than Styphon's Temple Guard. These days they dressed in good Arklos plate and their armor was rain-proofed with liberal smears of sheep tallow and pig fat.
"So I had one of my guardsmen follow him and he found this traitorous swine with his guardsmen trying to loot our paychests! He reported back to me and I took my Guard. We killed Balthames' henchmen and brought him back for Your Majesty's Justice."
There was more to this than met the eye; Kalvan knew that for certain. Sarrask's daughter Princess Amnita and Prince Balthames had been married in an arranged dynastic marriage; it was one of convenience, since she liked dashing cavalry captains while he preferred boys. Last spring she had become with child and Balthames had banished her from Sashta, after beheading her current lover. Now, the Princess was under-foot, pregnant, miserable and making Sarrask's life "like being a manure shoveler in a bull's pasture," as Sarrask so colorfully put it.
"The uppity bugger has run through the Sashta treasury, giving patents to all his boyfriends. Now, he wants our gold and silver!" Sarrask's last words came out in a snarl.
Balthames wore a petulant sneer. "It's only your word against mine! You're an even bigger liar than that harlot you call a daughter!"
It took Captain Vanar Halgoth to hold Sarrask back from tearing his son-in-law limb from limb. While he had lost a lot of weight, the Prince of Sarrask was still a big man, only now it was muscle, not fat, he was carrying.
Kalvan made a calming motion with his hands to Sarrask. He turned to the Prince's Bodyguards. "What did you men see?"
"It's like the Prince says," the tallest Bodyguard answered. "We saw this character steal away from camp with a score of his men-at-arms to the baggage train and try to take the paychests! We didn't have to hear 'kill them' twice before we ran 'em down and cut 'em to pieces. After all, that's our silver they're takin'!"
The other Bodyguards nodded their agreement. One of them stepped forward and said, "I was one of the paychest guards. Prince Balthames took us by surprise and had his men aim their pistols at us. Told us 'we'll kill you if you move.' Then they used hammers to knock the locks off. They were stealing our gold and silver, all right."
"I believe these men have given a brief but accurate account of what just transpired," Kalvan stated. "What's your story, Balthames?"
"You'd take the word of these, these… commoners?"
"Yes, now give me your account before I make my judgment."
Prince Balthames looked wildly around him for a sympathetic eye or friendly face. He found neither. His face fell. "Look, King Kalvan, everyone knows that the Styphoni out-number us better than two to one-this war is hopeless. In another night or two they will be fighting in Sashta Town. I just wanted what was mine; I wouldn't have taken it all. I wanted enough gold to go to Agrys City and live like a Prince, not some pauper- is that so wrong?"
Kalvan nodded to Vanar, who released Sarrask from his hold. He turned to Captain Simodes, "Take my Bodyguard and round up all the nobles within a candle from the camp."
"Yes, Sir." Simodes mounted his horse and rode off to the temporary headquarters.
Kalvan knew what had to be done, but he wanted witnesses. It wouldn't do to have rumors running about the camp about why Balthames was executed. It was bad enough he had to deal with this mess just before a major battle.
When enough nobles had gathered, including Prince Ptosphes, Prince Pheblon and Tythanes, Prince of Kyblos, Kalvan recounted Balthames' treachery. Before he was finished, there were shouts of "behead him" and "shoot him out of a cannon!"
Balthames face turned as white as a sheepskin.
Prince Sarrask looked at Kalvan and said, "King's Justice."
Kalvan nodded.
Sarrask pulled a pistol out of his green and gold sash, while Balthames looked on in disbelief. "I'm a Prince…"
Sarrask raised the pistol up, as a paralyzed Balthames watched it like a pigeon hypnotized by a snake. He quickly marched over to the Prince, slammed down his visor, put the gun barrel to the eye slit and fired.
There was a sound that reminded Kalvan of a car backfire. The suit of armor danced spasmodically a few times, then fell into a quivering heap. Blood dripped out of the airholes and visor slit.
Sarrask squatted down over Balthames and pulled a long, thin boning knife out of his right boot, which he stuck through the helmet's eyehole. "Let no one say he did not die like a Prince." He pulled out the bloody knife, with a sucking sound, and wiped the blood on his dun-colored breeches.
The Prince turned to his Bodyguards. "Take this piece of offal to the privy trench and bury him."
"What about his armor?" the tall one asked.
"Strip him naked," Sarrask said. "Anything you find is yours."
The guards left with grins, telling all and sundry what a grand prince they served.
Kalvan's stomach felt queasy, but military justice had to be quick, irrespective of rank, firm and cruel-or the result was anarchy. They had hanged three rapists the day before and Balthames hadn't even blinked. Well, what's fair was fair-equal justice under the law. And one less quisling-like his brother Balthar of Beshta who turned coats in the middle of the battle of Tenabra-to worry about.
Sarrask approached him with a pewter mug of brandy for him and one for Halgoth. "Let's make a toast, Your Majesty."
One of the Prince's Bodyguards rushed up with another mug, which the guard proudly gave to his prince. "To thieves and cowards, may Hadron feast on their bones!"
"Hear, hear!" Kalvan answered.