The Chronicles: Notomol Ch. 12

- "I believe that Kolasovets told you what happened in Stonje." said Notomol.

- "To a degree."

- "They sent mercenaries. We forced the mercenaries to retreat into the steadings. Then they got sick. The sickness spread, but it affected more of them than it did our people. They died of it - in large numbers."

- "Is that why you left?"

- "In part. We were having trouble feeding everyone, too."

I waited. He obviously wanted to tell me something, and he would do so when he was ready.

"We intercepted a letter, many months ago, from Meldoi to his father. Meldoi is Duke's Beghel son; he was given the mercenary force to put down our rebellion in Stonje. He failed. That reflects poorly on his sire. In fact, there were two letters. The first said that the situation was under control. I can only suppose that it was meant to be shared. The second letter told the truth. The mercenaries were sick, and starving. They couldn't leave the shelter of their steadings to search for food. For one thing, we attacked them whenever they did. For another, there was little precious little food for them to find."

- "Kolasovets told us about that."

- "Good. So he told you about the ambush at Norwood, as well?"

- "He did." Notomol's band had intercepted a convoy of wagons carrying food and supplies to Meldoi. They defeated its escort, and captured almost all of the wagons.

- "Well, we intercepted another letter." said Notomol, with a little grin. It made him appear boyish. I kept forgetting that he was no older than I was.

- "Good news?"

- "Meldoi admitted to his father that he wasn't sure they could survive another winter in Stonje. He claimed to have dealt with most of the rebels, and assured the Duke that the province was pacified."

I had to laugh. "You all left! And he's claiming victory?"

- "I'm sure that the Duke is well aware of where we are by now. But Meldoi asked for help - again. So I had Cinna and a few friends watch the road into Stonje."

- "Ah. I wondered where he had gotten to."

- "Cinna caught an Izumyrian courier with a small escort. They were carrying a letter from the Duke to his son. Meldoi was ordered to leave small garrisons in each of the steadings, and to bring the bulk of his troops back to Hvad town."

- "Really?" I hadn't thought that the Northern Duke was a fool. But this was ... not wise. If a large garrison was afraid to leave the shelter of a steading, a smaller number of soldiers would be little better than prisoners inside the walls. He should have simply abandoned the steadings entirely, and brought all of the troops back. I said as much.

- "I agree." said Notomol.

- "But now it won't happen."

- "Oh, it will. We'll make sure that Meldoi gets the letter. He may have it already; the Izumyrians sometimes send multiple copies of a message, to make sure that it gets through."

- "You're going to ambush them." I said.

- "Yes. I want your advice, Guenna." he said. "Part of me thinks that we should hit them on the march, from two directions. I suspect that they'll fold at once, and run - if we leave them an escape route."

- "And what does the other part think?"

He took a deep breath, and slowly released it. "That we could have them all. Or most of them."

- "Isn't that the better choice?" I asked. "Why isn't it?"

- "If we take the first option, and leave them an escape route, they'll run. We can do damage without suffering many losses. We hurt them, and their morale suffers another blow. But if we trap them, with no way out, they may fight to the bitter end."

- "Especially if they've heard what happened to our last prisoners, you mean?"

- "No. We never took prisoners when they were mercenaries."

- "Never?"

- "They're only here for profit. Plunder and rape. I'm not saying that the soldiers never do that - they do. But the soldiers are here out of duty, or misguided loyalty to their lords. These mercenaries didn't have to come. They're a plague. You don't take rats prisoner."

- "Alright." I said. "Then think like the Northern Duke. Put yourself in his place. Imagine that Meldoi returns with a smaller force than you expected. It's obvious that they've been in a fight, and that some of his men were killed or captured. How would you feel?"

Notomol smiled. "Angry. Furious, even."

- "Absolutely livid. But what if ... only a few stragglers managed to escape? Another disaster - and one that you can't hide. Your son revealed to all as a failure, and another force crushed. Not just decimated, but destroyed."

Notomol thought about it. I liked that about him - that he generally thought before he spoke. Then he smiled again.

- "Thank you, Guenna. I'm glad that I asked your advice."

- "Anytime, Notomol." I was very glad that he had. But I couldn't resist asking. "Why me, though?"

He looked me in the eye. "Giedra says that you saved the Duchess - and your family and friends, from the Izumyrians. I've also heard - from several sources - who was really responsible for those victories in Mahuc. And who avoided an Izumyrian trap. I've also appreciated your contributions to ... well, with every Council of Captains we've had since you arrived. I can't thank you for bringing me the Duchess and Prosquetel, but I can thank you for all the help you've given me with them."

***

Notomol left behind a small force to guard the Duchess, and to watch for the Izumyrians. The non-combatants were all warned to withdraw a little further into the hills and the forests. Prosquetel, Iduallon and Gerimir were left behind along with a young Captain named Hallar. Notomol made sure to let Hallar know that he, and not Old Whitehair, was the one in command.

Every other fighter we had marched towards Stonje. The Uplander and female contingent, under Giedra, counted over 40 fighters. But it was the size of our total force that amazed me.

- "450." said Berilde. "Give or take a few."

It was an army. Many, admittedly, had never been in a fight before - much less a battle. Notomol had wisely decided to include most of the neophytes in this venture. This was an opportunity to give them some much-needed experience, hopefully without getting them killed.

I'd told Giedra about Notomol asking my advice. She deserved to know. I was also ... proud? Proud that Notomol valued my advice, but also proud of his strategic acumen.

- "I get it, Guenna. He's amazing. We all understand."

Then she saw my face, and Giedra immediately felt awful.

"I'm sorry, Guen. I was just teasing. I didn't mean to hurt you."

- "I know. I'm ... just being foolish."

- "No. Lying with Gerimir was foolish. Leaving Nareven was foolish. This is ... different."

My friend did understand me. We hugged, and she shed a few tears to accompany mine.

Notomol's army reached Norwood. The moment I saw the pass, I couldn't believe that anyone had marched through it. If there were any enemies within a hundred leagues, I would never have taken this route. It wasn't until I saw heavy wagons, pulled by beasts of burden, that I understood.

They needed a road, and this was it.

It wasn't easy to hide so many warriors, but Notomol and his people knew the land like the backs of their hands. Meldoi and his mercenaries suspected nothing as they marched into Norwood, with eleven wagons carrying the little plunder they'd been able to accumulate.

I didn't know how many men they had, because we were posted further along, near the end of the pass. Orsho was there, with Aldur the Wall, and some 100 veteran fighters. When all of the Izumyrians were into Norwood, Dubek and another 100 warriors closed the pass behind them, and attacked the rear of their column.

Meldoi had put out an advance guard, and kept a rearguard. But he had neglected flank guards. He never saw the 200 Hvadi and Upland fighters waiting to close the trap.

We were above them, atop these little shale cliffs. Paksyalta, Tugan and Krissika had a field day, with targets aplenty who could not reach us.

The Izumyrians soon concluded that their only way out was forward. Orsho was wounded, which shook the confidence of our men holding the neck of the pass. Giedra saw it, and led some of our people into an attack. Liesma was with her, of course. Tota was beside them, and she proved us right. She wasn't quite in Nameless' class, but she could hold her own.

Aldur wouldn't give ground, and Paksyalta managed to kill a prominent officer. The Izumyrian push faltered.

It turned out that there were only 140 men in the Izumyrian column. 35 were killed. Less than ten escaped. The remainder were captured.

Among the prisoners was Meldoi, son of Duke Beghel.

***

The mercenaries had several wagons filled with plunder. They were rather indiscriminate looters, from what I could see: even Uplanders wouldn't have stolen some of those things.

Sixty-six of the prisoners were mercenaries. Notomol had them all killed - every last one.

I should have been horrified. But he had said from the beginning that they never took mercenaries prisoner. In some ways, I thought, it wasn't as bad as what we'd done to the Izumyrian soldiers. Those men had been promised their lives if they surrendered. The mercenaries, on the other hand, should have known what was coming.

We took the wagons and the remaining prisoners and returned to our camp. Orsho had been wounded, and Rion had suffered a bad gash on her arm, but only one of the Uplander men had been killed. Our casualties had been light.

It was a great success, and our fighters were in high spirits. Orsho, Dubek, Aldur and Giedra had added to their reputations, but everyone knew that this was Notomol's triumph. It was another significant victory, at little cost to us, and we now had the Duke's son as a bargaining chip.

Our confidence in ourselves - and in his leadership - were very high, and they remained that way even as the last days of autumn bled away.

More refugees came in, including some people from Hvad town who were afraid to go back to their homes. Food was apparently running short there, and prices were ridiculously high. The boatmen had ceased bringing in produce, and many farmers outside the town were hiding the harvest rather than bring it to the Izumyrians.

We wouldn't grow fat, but we would be able to support ourselves.

- "We'll have to move next year, though." said Kolasovets. "Especially if our numbers keep growing."

The winter was fairly mild. That's not always a good thing, for farmers. But it was ideal for us. We trained our newest recruits, and got to know each other better. That was a mixed blessing.

I already disliked Eiven Cloudy-Eye on principle, because of how he had treated Senderra. But when he began spending his time with the Duchess and Prosquetel, currying favour, I liked him even less.

Aldur was ... well, a bit boring. Dubek was rather crude. I'd grown up with my father, Inisian, Hedyn, and Vingoldas, all of them very different from the Hammer. Dubek was a dangerous fighter, and very brave. I was awfully happy that he was on our side, but he wasn't my favourite person. Giedra seemed to enjoy his company, though, and often asked me to accompany her, along with Rion and Eliv.

I liked talking with Senderra and Kolasovets. Evane and Dusca were usually there, although they rarely spoke. Inita, it turned out, could hold her own in a conversation. Even Berilde admitted to liking Inita. It was a good sign; I was still worried about my bodyguard.

Of course, the person I most wanted to speak to had very little time. Notomol always had people around him - always. He came by twice, when we were training our female fighters, just to see what we were doing.

- "How do they look?" he asked me.

- "Good. There are a few with real potential. We found another girl who's quite good with a bow. Paksyalta is working with her. And Tota is wonderful."

- "I heard that she did very well at Norwood." he said. "Could I meet her?"

Tota was delighted. As for me ... well, that was my longest conversation with him over the first month of winter.

But one night, fairly late, he came by the campfire that we shared with Senderra and her crew. Most of the women were asleep. I was adding a few more pieces of wood to the fire.

- "I'm sorry." he said. "I should have realized that everyone would be asleep."

- "I'm awake." said Senderra.

Could she not have been a sound sleeper?

- "Then I'll stay for just a while." said her brother. He smiled at me. "If you don't mind, of course."

- "You're welcome anytime." I said.

Notomol asked his sister about Evane, and Dusca, and Kolasovets and Inita.

- "Are they ...?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

Senderra chuckled. "Close. Closer. In another year or two, I think he might actually kiss her. We think that she'll probably kiss him first."

- "That's good. Very good." said Notomol. He did seem genuinely pleased. How much had he missed, these past few years, because of the burdens of command? He had the respect of hundreds of fighters, and I know for certain that the non-combatants admired him as well. He had the love of a beautiful, accomplished woman. But had he suffered from not being able to spend enough time with his closest friends, or even his sister?

- "Are the Duchess and her crew wearing you down?" asked Senderra.

- "Not so much. I can avoid them, for the most part. Guenna knows what that's like, I'm sure."

- "If you have dreams of killing Prosquetel and Iduallon while they sleep, then I do."

Notomol laughed at that. But he did have a serious question for me.

- "How did you learn - to come up with battle plans? To strategize."

I had to think about it. "From watching my father, of course. I mean - not battle plans. It was more simple situations. How do I get my three daughters across a lake, without a boat, and with only one hand? Or, how do I face down four thugs with only a teenage boy and a ten-year old girl with a bow on my side?"

- "Really? I haven't heard that story."

- "I have." said Giedra. She wasn't sleeping at all. "It was glorious. Tell it, Guen."

- "Mmm. Tell it." said Rion.

Apparently, no one around our fire was asleep - except for Liesma, who snored. They'd all known, somehow, that Notomol was there.

I told the story - and that led to another story, and another after that. Giedra chipped in with her own tales, and repeated her claim that if she hadn't liked Sulcen so much, she might have stolen my father from her.

- "Only if you shared him with me." said Rion.

- "He sounds like a great man." said Notomol. "I wish I'd met him."

- "You may yet." said Giedra.

***

It wasn't an especially difficult winter for us. We weren't in Stonje. There was no disease. The land hadn't been exhausted, or over-hunted. That would only happen if we stayed here for another year or two, and that was something that Notomol did not intend.

The Izumyrians in the town had it much tougher. The boatmen weren't bringing in supplies, and local farmers weren't bringing their produce to the markets.

So the soldiers went out to take it.

Duke Beghel organized columns of his troops. The horsemen would arrive, almost without warning. Soon thereafter, the infantry would follow, with wagons, ready to carry away the food. Farmers were promised that if they supplied the army, they would be paid.

At first, the troopers actually carried barrels of coins. But then the officers found it more profitable to simply keep the money, and use force to make the farmers reveal where the food was hidden. They seemed to think that a few beatings and the occasional hanging would be sufficient to compel cooperation.

They began to find empty farms. People had gone into the forest, taking their livestock with them. The officers had the farms burned, and then sent parties into the forest to track down the runaways. Sometimes these soldiers came back with food, or with prisoners who could be made an example of. Sometimes, though, the soldiers came back carrying their own wounded. In one case, they didn't come back at all.

Punitive expeditions were launched into the woods. Fifty or even one hundred soldiers would go into the forest, searching for fugitives and caches of food. The results were disappointing - from an Izumyrian point of view.

We learned of these things from refugees who came to join us, and from another pair of guslars who had left the hard-hit town. To my surprise, Adrastas and Obran wanted nothing to do with these two new guslars.

One of them, Nafni by name, was honest enough to admit the truth.

- "We deserve it." he said. "Even before the invasion began, we thought that Izumyrian ways would catch on in Hvad. We guslars would become menestrels, or joglari. We even began learning their songs, and practicing with flutes and drums."

I wasn't sure that I could even imagine what that would sound like.

"Then the soldiers came. It shames me to admit it, but we thought that we might prosper. The Izumyrians had no interest in Hvadi songs or tales, but those of us who could perform to their liking had a ready audience."

- "But that changed?" I guessed.

- "It did." said Nafni. "The soldiers much preferred musicians from Izumyr, and stopped calling on us. They looked down on us for being Hvadi. We understood enough of their language to know what they really thought of us. And now our own people shunned us for having stooped before the invaders. I haven't performed in almost a year, but I began to transform myself into a chronicler."

- "What's that?"

- "A chronicle is a history - a record of what actually happened. The songs and tales that guslars perform are wonderful. Sometimes, though, they are exaggerated. Or they only tell a small part of the whole story. Everyone loves 'Borna's Bucket', but what more do they know of Ljudevit, except that he was Borna's Hand?"

- "He was the father of Payl's children." I said. "And he killed the Northern Duke, at the cost of his own life, to prevent an invasion of Hvad in Borna's day."

Nafni was stunned. "How? How do you know this?"

- "He was my great-great-grandfather."

Nafni the Chronicler fell in love with me on the spot. He immediately decided to devote several chapters of his chronicle to the Uplands. He attached himself to me like a leech. I tried to foist him off on Giedra, with only partial success. Nafni saw the potential for a song about Giedra, but couldn't quite fit her into his history.

"Write the song first." I suggested. "Once you've gained some status with the Uplanders, more of them will trust you, and be willing to tell you their stories. You may even regain some standing with the Lowlanders if you can perform a new song or two."

- "Guenna Golden Tongue, advisor to guslars." said Giedra, with a big grin.

- "Be quiet," I said, "or I'll tell him that you're Borna's illegitimate grandchild."

- "Just one of many." she laughed.

***

More refugees arrived. Some were from Mahuc. They reported that the boatmen were now ferrying people across the river for no charge.

A few fighters came in from Pitve, and three men arrived from Yelsa. The news they brought was even harder to believe.

The Izumyrian Duke was stripping troops from all of the other provinces. He left garrisons in all of the Bans' steadings, and all of the Hospodars' as well. But he called on most of the heavy cavalry and all of the 'surplus' foot soldiers to join him in Hvad town.

Notomol sought me out, to discuss what it meant. I was surprised when he arrived with Dubek in tow - and not only him, but also Ban Lemek and Mailis of Yeseriya.

- "What do you think it means?' he asked me.

- "He's gathering an army. It'll be directed at us." That much was obvious.

- "So we think." he said. "But listen to this - Ban Lemek, if you will?"