The Chronicles: Notomol Ch. 12

"The Duchess is also concerned by our leader's overly cautious strategy. Notomol has won some victories against the Izumyrians. That cannot be denied."

A cheer went up. I joined in immediately, as did all of the women around me. There was quite a bit of support for Notomol here.

Prosquetel, though, did not seem discomfited at all. Had he been expecting something like this? I didn't like his smug half-smile one bit. He waited patiently for the cheering to die down.

"Yes." said Prosquetel. "Yes, Notomol has won several fights. Yet here we sit, waiting for the enemy to re-take the initiative!"

Old Whitehair paused again. At this rate, none of us would get much sleep tonight.

"I would be the last person here to advocate a rash or reckless course of action. But a measured advance? And would we not collect even more support for every step closer to Hvad town?"

- "He sounds so reasonable." said Giedra, not bothering to whisper. "Do you think everyone else realizes that he's full of shit?"

I don't think that Prosquetel heard her.

- "The Duchess is not suggesting a change of leadership." he said - despite the fact that that was exactly what they were after.

"But a true leader should be responsive to the wishes of their captains and key leaders - most of whom are in favor of an advance on Hvad town."

Another pause. I realized that I was grinding my teeth.

"We are here to suggest that the army must move. The majority of the captains demand it."

With that said, Prosquetel backed up a few steps, and then gestured with one arm - towards Notomol. It was at once an invitation to speak, and a challenge.

Notomol then did precisely what I hoped he would: nothing.

He didn't move. He didn't answer. The silence lengthened. I heard a few chuckles. For the first time, Old Whitehair looked a little less confident.

- "Will you not answer the question, Notomol?"

- "Were you asking me a question?"

- "Will you order an advance on Hvad town?"

- "You've asked me that before, Prosquetel. The answer remains the same: no. Not yet."

Old Whitehair threw his arms in the air. It was a gesture that he'd prepared, obviously, a show of exasperation.

- "Then perhaps we should consider some changes." he said. "But - just to make certain that you understand ... I will now ask all the Captains who agree with me to come here - to stand beside me - to show you our displeasure."

Heras Koymil came forward, and took his place at Prosquetel's shoulder. A moment later, big Velik of the boatmen went to stand by Whitehair's other side. After another brief pause, Eiven Cloudy-Eye walked out. Heras Koymil grudgingly stepped aside to make room for him.

It had plainly been rehearsed. This was a performance, prepared in advance.

There was a bit of a stir, then, as Dubek stepped into the space between the two fires. Then he turned sharply, and went to stand close to Notomol.

Giedra was about to move, but I seized her arm.

- "Wait!" I hissed.

Prosquetel didn't seem at all dismayed by Dubek's move. That was potentially bad news for us.

Then a man I didn't know at all moved forward, and went to stand beside Velik.

- "This is Sarak, representing the men of Hvad town." said Prosquetel.

- "Now." I said. Giedra and I walked out towards the nearest fire. She had more sense of occasion than I did; she walked slowly, looking about her, challenging every single male who looked at her. I would have simply gone to stand by Notomol; she made a spectacle of it.

Nelime and Orsho did the same. Neither of them looked happy, but I think that they were disgusted by Prosquetel's manoeuvring. They wouldn't hesitate to show support for Notomol.

Old Whitehair was not the least bit put out. He simply looked to his left - and Aldur came forward, to join the group around the Duchess' spokesman.

To me, it felt like a betrayal. Notomol had arranged for Aldur to win his name. But these Niskadi - these Lowlanders - had different standards of honour.

A moment later, it got worse. Ban Lemek walked around the opposite side of the fires. Eiven Cloudy-Eye made space, so that the Ban of Mahuc could stand beside Prosquetel.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise, I suppose, but I will admit that I was disappointed. Lemek must have known it, too; he studiously avoided making eye contact with anyone standing anywhere near Notomol.

- "Are there any more Captains who will declare themselves?" said Prosquetel.

Mailis of Yeseriya came forward. She started on the right, and then crossed the space between the fires. She came to stand close to Giedra and me.

For the first time, Prosquetel looked unhappy. He hadn't expected that.

- "They put pressure on you, didn't they?" I said, to Mailis.

- "You have no idea."

- "Did they offer to make you a Hospodar?"

- "That, and wealth besides." she said.

- "I always liked you, Mailis." said Giedra. "Now I like you even more."

She smiled. "Thank you, Giedra."

Prosquetel had done a little counting. He was happy again.

- "I see four Captains on your side, Notomol: Orsho, Dubek, the Uplanders, and Mailis. Whereas on my side - the Duchess' side - I count seven: myself, Heras Koymil, Eiven Cloudy-Eye, Velik of the boatmen, Sarak of Hvad town, Aldur, and Ban Lemek of Mahuc. A rather conclusive majority, wouldn't you say?"

Dubek couldn't help himself. "Sarak? Leader of the Hvad town contingent? Don't make me laugh. By that standard, I'm a Duke of Izumyr."

It was a good sally, but Prosquetel was still smiling.

- "Will you accept this verdict, Notomol? Or must we begin the process of choosing a new leader?"

Notomol didn't answer him.

Adrastas did.

-"You are very rude, Master Prosquetel." said the guslar. "You have neglected to acknowledge Lady Nelime, one of the earliest and most important leaders of our rising."

- "I meant no disrespect to the Lady." said Prosquetel, quickly. "But I consider Orsho, her champion, as the true leader of her fighters."

Adrastas slowly shook his head. "Still disrespectful. I expected better of you. Do you not know the tale of Vidrik, Master Prosquetel?"

I wanted to throw my fist in the air and let out a shout. This was exactly what was needed.

The guslar proceeded to do just what he did best: tell a story. He related, in remarkably fine verse, how Vidrik had tried to take the leadership of the rebel band away from Notomol. Vidrik had won himself a following, partly because he was brash and forceful, where Notomol was not.

Vidrik was not interested in feeding or protecting the non-combatants, but he complained that they weren't being aggressive enough. The band split, and nearly half of the fighters followed Vidrik.

"They were successful, at first. But do you know where they are now, Master Prosquetel?"

Adrastas had mastered the dramatic pause a long time ago.

"They are all dead. Every last one of them. We should have forty more fighters here today, with a good leader. But we do not."

I don't think that anyone failed to understand what Adrastas was driving at. He'd also left Prosquetel and his 'majority' standing there, looking stupid, while he told his tale and delivered a lesson. He wasn't done, either.

"You have shown more disrespect, Master Prosquetel." said the guslar. "If Master Sarak can claim to represent the fighters of Hvad town, then can I not do the same for the fighters of Stonje - who, I might add, have done considerably more fighting than your 'company' these past few years."

- "I meant no disrespect, Master Guslar." interrupted Prosquetel. "Given your age, and your occupation ... of course we include you in our counsels in an honorary capacity."

- "Am I not a Captain? You have not drawn sword any more than I have. I killed two Izumyrians last year - granted, they were already wounded. When was the last time you got your hands dirty, Master Prosquetel? Perhaps it is your age - you are, after all, four years older than I am. But then, we allow you to attend our councils anyway - in an 'honorary' capacity, of course - because you speak for the Duchess."

Adrastas was a poet. I should not have been surprised that he could choose the very best words, for maximum effect. He was particularly adept at using Prosquetel's own words against him, returning them with a little extra sting.

"No, let us leave aside the question of how you can be a Captain if I am not. Let us address instead the manner in which you ignore or insult true captains. There is one who is not here tonight, because he and his scouts are on watch - at all times - to make certain that we are not surprised by a sudden Izumyrian move. His name is Cinna. I can only compare him and his men to one of your captains. Despite being asked to assist with the scouting many times, he and his friends prefer to ride their horses about, looking important."

Heras Koymil looked down. He knew when the shoe fit. I don't believe that he liked the feel of it. Neither did Old Whitehair, but he didn't have a quick response at the ready.

"Where do you think that Cinna would stand, tonight?" asked Adrastas. He didn't smile, or smirk. If this was a battle of performances, Prosquetel was outmatched; he'd brought a sharp stick to a sword fight.

"And here is yet another leader that you have disrespected." said the guslar. "Come forward, Kolasovets."

Prosquetel had made a mistake, by calling his meeting for dusk. It had given Notomol and Adrastas time to guess what he was up to, and to prepare. It also gave them a chance to find the little archer, and bring him here.

Kolasovets came to stand near us.

Big Velik the boatman laughed out loud. "What is he? Captain of the dwarfs?"

A couple of men laughed with him - but they stopped quickly when they realized how few had joined in. Kolasovets ignored them.

- "I am a former Guardsman." he said. "I joined Notomol at the Grey River. Motekin and I were his first two companions. That is not a boast; but simple fact. Along with Cinna, I have seen more fighting in our cause than any man or woman here."

Good for you, little man with the big heart, I thought. He was barely eighteen years old, but when he spoke from the heart, it resonated.

"I'm not sure that I'm a real captain, but the archers and the hunters have asked me to represent them. The archers have been a major part of every battle plan that Notomol has even drawn up - and the same is true of Guenna Veran's daughter as well, from what I'm told. We are proud of our accomplishments."

- "And so you should be." said Adrastas.

- "Damn straight." growled Dubek.

Kolasovets nodded. "Thank you." he said. "The hunters, on the other hand ... well, we no longer expect thanks from the fighters that we help to feed. The common people appreciate us. That's good enough. But in case there is any doubt, let me make this clear: the archers and the hunters stand with Notomol. Anyone who wishes to split our army, to go off on their own ... well, I wish you good hunting - because you'll have to do your own. We won't supply meat to anyone who betrays our leader."

I could've hugged him, if only he stood a little closer. Kolasovets left Prosquetel and company standing there dumbfounded. They'd never worried about where their next meal was coming from; they just expected some of the peons to serve it. That was food for thought.

Adrastas wasn't done with them. The venerable guslar was more than willing to kick an opponent while he was down.

"There is one more leader you've neglected - and disrespected." he said. "I call on Yadha Snakehand."

Now I will be the first to admit that in the clear light of day Yadha looked slightly ridiculous, with his bushy white beard and receding hairline, his scrawny limbs and archaic leather armour. But when he stepped out into the firelight, he looked magnificent, like one of the elder Gods come back to teach the people how to set a snare, or start a fire.

- "I speak for the hunters as well." he began (I couldn't remember him speaking so clearly; was his country accent part affectation?) "But also for the farmers and the foragers. You know, the people you see as useless mouths. Well, trust me - we know who the useless mouths are. After all, we've been providing the food for them for a long time now. You're welcome, by the way. What Kolasovets said about doing your own hunting? That goes double for us. Find your own damn food."

Yadha glared at Prosquetel and his 'Captains'.

"I've worked with Notomol these past few years - in very trying times." he continued. "I've known Orsho, and a few others, in my time. No disrespect to any of them, but this young man is the best. He has an eye for the ground, and he doesn't throw lives away needlessly. He's won every fight he led us into - and the one battle that went badly was an ambush, which he got most of us out of."

You'll forgive me for a little surge of pride, I hope: that sounded much like my own record.

"You want to tell Notomol what to do? You want to force his hand, or even replace him? Well, good luck with that. But you'll do it without Yadha Snakehand."

That said, the old codger stamped away.

There was a moment of quiet, then, as men - and women - digested what had been said. Some of them, obviously, had never been served a meal quite like this.

Prosquetel made an attempt to recapture the proceedings.

- "This is all very well ..." he began.

Adrastas cut him off at the knees. "It is very well. Men should know who feeds and sustains them between battles. But I've been counting Captains, Master Prosquetel - just as you suggested I should. On your side, I see six - not including you, of course, because of your age and purely 'honorary' role. But on this side, I see Dubek, Nelime and Orsho - who you insist on counting as one. Then we have Guenna and Giedra - another pair, a front line fighter and a strategist, though again you deny them recognition. Mailis of Yeseriya. Cinna of the scouts. Kolasovets. Yadha Snakehand. And me, of course, but I will accept my 'purely honorary' status - if you will too."

The guslar scratched his chin. "8 to 7. Or 7 to 6. Which do you prefer? Or should we count the fighters rather than the Captains?"

Senderra and I had tried to calculate those numbers, earlier in the day. By our reckoning, Notomol had the solid support of 350 fighters - not to mention the non-combatants. Prosquetel's Captains represented only 300 men. There were another 100-150 warriors who weren't attached to a specific leader, but we were very confident that they would side with Notomol and Adrastas rather than the Duchess or her spokesman.

The guslar had Old Whitehair pinned to the ground. Prosquetel gave up trying to wriggle his way out of it. Instead, he pretended that a confrontation had never been what he intended.

- "This was only ever about the strategy we will follow." he insisted.

- "Then let the leader explain his strategy. Listen, and support him."

Notomol finally stepped forward, to stand between the two fires. He hadn't said a word since Prosquetel had asked if he would advance on Hvad town. I had to admire his restraint; I wasn't sure that I could have done that myself.

- "Thank you." said Notomol. "I appreciate the show of support."

It might have been the words themselves, or perhaps it was the expression on his face - Notomol wasn't smirking, but his tongue was firmly planted in his cheek.

Dubek started laughing first. Giedra was among the next to join in. I saw Orsho laughing - or coughing - and Nelime pounding him on the back. Rion and Eliv let loose with an Uplander ululation that shocked those around them.

Notomol raised a hand, clearly asking for silence.

"This is not a game." he said. "It's not about who wins. We had a disagreement. That's all. I remember a similar difference of opinion - Adrastas referred to it. I still think of Vidrik, and what we might have done to avoid splitting our forces. I will tell you now: if we divide our army, we will lose. I'm convinced of it."

He looked down, as if gathering his words. It wasn't confidence; he had plenty of that.

"Prosquetel is correct in one sense. We have the Izumyrians at a disadvantage. The Northern Duke has called in troops from every province. Thanks to our efforts, we know that he will receive little comfort from Stonje. But if he is stripping the heavy cavalry from all over Hvad, and limiting his hold on the provinces to possession of the steadings ..."

Notomol went on to describe the strategic situation as he - as we saw it.

"Beghel is forming an army. With it, he intends to crush us. He has to. The longer he is forced to concentrate his troops, the longer the Izumyrians in the provinces hide in the steadings, the more likely that we will have several risings like ours, in Stonje."

I was watching faces, to see if Prosquetel's Captains were grasping this.

"If the Izumyrians can defeat us - conclusively - then they can send the heavy cavalry back to the provinces, and stamp out all opposition. For us, here, the problem is simple. We must keep Duke Beghel's attention focused on us - and we must not allow him to crush us. The longer he has to keep an Izumyrian army in the far east ... the better for everyone on our side."

I saw recognition in Lemek's eyes. It should have been there much sooner; Notomol had already explained his intentions to us.

"If I can offer battle under advantageous conditions, I would consider it. But my main goal, at this point, is to threaten the Izumyrians, without offering them an opportunity to defeat us. Are there any questions?"

There were. Plenty of them. But not from Prosquetel and his allies.

***

Sarak of Hvad town and two of his companions were badly beaten the night after the great meeting. There were no broken bones, but someone urinated on the three men after they were unconscious.

***

- "I'm sorry." said Ban Lemek.

- "Are you?" I'd almost liked the little weasel, at one time. He'd pretty much admitted that I was the best strategist in the Duchess' army in Mahuc. He had even told Prosquetel so. But when push came to shove, he'd sided with Old Whitehair in the effort to unseat Notomol.

- "They put pressure on me, as they did on Mailis. I have to consider my position, and that of Mahuc, after the war is over."

- "Don't you think we should try to win the war, first?"

Lemek rolled his eyes. "Obviously. But there are forces at play here which you just don't understand."

- "Because I'm an Uplander? Or because I'm a woman?"

- "Political forces, Guenna. Not military ones. You are an Uplander. You aren't familiar with the tensions and rivalries between Hospodars, and between Bans. Can you imagine how different things would be if the Ban of Stonje was here? How that might affect Nelime and Orsho? Don't you realize that five of the six Bans aren't here?"

- "It sounds to me like you're jockeying for position, Ban Lemek."

- "Of course I am! That's the whole point! We're riders."

- "Well, I don't have a horse in this race." I said. "And I don't believe that Notomol does, either."

***

I told Giedra and Senderra about my conversation with Lemek.

- "You have to tell Notomol." said his sister.

- "I intend to."

I went looking for him, with only Berilde beside me. He wasn't in the first two places we visited. No one seemed to know where he was. We ran into Dubek, and asked if he had seen Notomol.

- "He's gone to the little grove with the spring. You know it?"

- "Yes. Thank you."

But at the entrance to the grove, I saw Prosquetel, with Iduallon and Gerimir. They were talking to Adrastas, who was flanked by Obran and Marmos. That was odd; Marmos never left Notomol's side.