Лео Франковски - The Flying Warlord
"And how about that one?" I said.
"What are you trying to do?" screamed the ambassador.
"Well, I figured that if we could get every Mongol to cut his fool throat, we wouldn't have to fight a war next spring." The room exploded in laughter.
"Were I not forbidden by my lord Batu to fight, I would kill you here and now!"
"It wouldn't be much of a fight, especially since you don't have a sword anymore. Why, any of our women could beat any of your fools with a sword. Even little Krystyana over there could take on any one of you, and she's had six children."
"Could 1, my lord? Could I really fight him?" Krystyana said as she eagerly stepped out from the crowd. She was in court dress and so of course was unarmed, but she had borrowed her husband's sword with such vigor that Sir Piotr had a thin trickle of blood running down from his left ear.
"Well, I was just talking, Lady Krystyana. This is a diplomatic meeting, and not the place for a fight."
"Ah! You make a foolish boast and then you try to wiggle out of it! I say that you must back up your boast!"
"I suppose, if you insist. Sir Piotr, what do you say about this? She's your wife, after all."
"My lord, when she's in this mood, I've found it's best to let her have her own way."
"Very well then, pick your best swordsman," I said to the ambassador.
"Let the lady choose her own executioner," he said with a greasy smile.
"I want that one," Krystyana said. "He's wearing the most gold, and I get it when I win, don't I?"
"To the victor goes the spoils, my lady," I said.
"Good! Of course, I can't fight in this silly outfit!" She said, as she stripped her clothes off. The Mongols were all wearing armor and she was proposing to fight naked!
At this time, Poland didn't have a nudity taboo, so a naked lady wasn't all that unheard of, but the duke had let it be known that he wanted a complete coverup in his own court, and thus far, no one had ever dared defy him. I glanced at the duke again, but he just looked up at the coffered ceiling.
The Mongol acted as if he was just going to walk up and murder her. Krystyana parried his blow easily and gave him a horizontal cut on the forehead.
This startled the man, and he started hacking in earnest. It got him nowhere. He might have been good at saber fighting on horseback, but his footwork was almost nonexistent. The parries used on horseback are different from those used on foot, and are slower, since on a horse you have the animal's neck between your legs and it gets in the way.
But mostly, he'd never seen a rapier before, whereas Krystyana had often fought rapier against saber. She'd beaten me that way quite a few times.
So she played with him. She added a vertical cut to the one horizontal one on his forehead, making a perfect Christian cross. Then she put a cross on each cheek, and during all this had not taken a cut herself.
She was making the Mongol look like a buffoon, which was wonderful. She was savvy enough to realize that we had to take people's minds off the dead bodies on the floor.
The crowd was going wild, and the ambassador was turning livid purple.
"She's making a Christian out of him!" Piotr yelled.
"Does that count as a Baptism?" somebody shouted.
"No! That's Extreme Unction!" another wit called back.
"Krystyana, didn't your mother tell you not to play with your food?" yelled someone else.
She was working at cutting the Mongol's armor off when I said, "I think you've made your point, Lady Krystyana. Kill him and be done with it."
"Yes, my lord. On the count of four! One! ... Two' ... Three! . . . "
And she skewered him, straight through the heart, on the count of four. Then she bowed to the duke and to the crowd, picked up her clothes, and retired. The applause rocked the castle!
I turned to the ambassador. "With regards to your request for submission, the answer is no."
"And who are you, to say this thing? What is your name and station?"
"I am Baron Conrad Stargard."
"What! I have been talking to a mere baron?"
"Surely you didn't expect our duke to dirty his lips by talking to such as you? I'm the lowest ranking man up here!"
The Mongols turned and left, leaving their dead on the floor.
The duke stood and motioned for me to follow. Once we were alone in his privy chamber, he turned and glared at me.
"Damn you, Conrad! I asked you to conduct a preliminary interview, not to set policy for me!"
"Yes, your grace. I guess I sort of got carried away."
"You 'sort of got carried away'? Were my father still on the throne, you would be carried away in a coffin!"
"Yes, your grace."
"Yes, your grace!' Is that all you can say?"
"Well, your grace, what other outcome could there have been? Surely you never considered submitting to them! You know what has happened to every other people that has done that. They make insatiable demands, require hostages, and ruinous tribute! Poland under the Mongols would be a living hell until they killed us all! Then it would be a dead one!"
"I know, I know. But there was no need to make them mad! You've told me that their plan is to simultaneously attack both Poland and Hungary. After what you've done, they just might come at us alone with all their forces! King Bela can put two knights in the field for every one that Poland can, and I include Sandomierz, Mazovia, and the Teutonic Knights as being with us!"
"Then maybe I've done some good, your grace. If I've made them mad enough, they'll go straight back to Batu Khan without talking to the other Polish powers. There was always the chance that they could have split us up, or talked some of the others into being neutral."
"That would never have happened, Baron. We may not be united, but we Poles would always stand together against a foreign aggressor."
"I hope you're right, your grace. But the Crossmen aren't Poles, they're Germans who have no great love for us. The Duke of Mazovia is a fourteen-year-old boy! Who can tell about a child?"
"Perhaps the Teutonic Knights are a cipher, but if the Duke of Mazovia's youth causes problems, they will be in the Other direction, entirely. He might rashly charge into certain slaughter, but he won't prove a coward."
"Yes, your grace."
"As to the Mongols, well, we'll talk to them again tomorrow."
At this point, a page knocked, entered and announced that the Mongol party had left Wawel Hill.
"Damn!" the duke said. "Baron Conrad, go after them and see what you can do about extending the negotiations."
"Yes, your grace," I said, fully intending to do just the opposite.
I had had my people dress, not in armor or even dress uniforms, but in civilian court garb, and our embroidered velvets shone in all the colors of the rainbow and then some. Some of the colors that Piotr wore had to be unique!
Since we were all riding Big People, we caught up with the Mongols within the hour.
"Hello, ambassador. You left without your honor guard!" I said.
"More of your insolence, Baron Conrad? You call this bunch of fops an honor guard? Why, none of you are in armor and half of you are women!"
"What's more, they're our better half Why should we need armor in our own country? None of our people would harm us and these woods were cleansed of wolves years ago. Haven't you ever been in a civilized country before?"
"I've seen silly fools before, riding sleek horses."
"Speaking of which, can those little ponies of yours run? What say we race, say from here to the River Bug."
His men had four spare mounts each and he could see that we didn't have any. He said, "Are you suggesting a wager, Baron?"
"Why not? Shall we say a bag of gold to the winner?"
He insisted on seeing my gold, but we made the bet. We soon left them in our dust. When we were about six miles ahead of them, we stopped by a brook and broke out a picnic supper. We were well into it before the Mongols caught up with us, their horses lathered with sweat.
"Care to join us, ambassador?" Krystyana shouted and waved. "There are plenty of leftovers!"
"A Mongol eats in the saddle!" The ambassador was not amused. They rode on.
We passed them again a while later, and I slowed down to chat. "I notice that you have changed horses already. Surely those little things can't be tired yet!"
"Changing horses is the custom of my people," he said stiffly.
"As you like," I said, "but it's obvious that this is not a fair contest. We'll try to make it more even."
With that, Anna and I went to the front of his column, circled ahead of it, ran back to the end, then back to the front again, literally running circles around them. The others in my party joined in the fun, laughing and shouting while the Mongols galloped stoically forward.
Toward dusk, we again left them behind, and when they caught up with us, we had a big campfire going, and Cilicia was dancing for us around it. Piotr and two of the Bankis were playing recorders and the rest of us were keeping time by beating on saddles and swords. A glass bottle of wine was being passed around. I was stretched out with my back to a tree.
Cilicia timed it such that they got a good eyeful of her magnificent nude body, then ended the dance by failing naked into my arms.
"Again you work to humiliate me," the ambassador said. "What manner of devil's spawn are you riding?"
"These? Why, they're just ordinary Christian horses. In fact, these are all just mares. We keep the stallions for battle, when you really need something big and fast. Haven't you seen good horses before?" I asked.
"We have fought Christians before. All the Russias do homage to us! But they did not have such animals as these!"
"Oh. Well, those were Orthodox Christians. We're Catholics. There's a difference."
"Your false gods have nothing to do with your horses!"
"Don't tell them that! They might get mad. They're all very religious," I said.
"Bah! They might be fast, but they would never last through a campaign. Sleek horses like those must eat grain! They'd starve if they had to travel across the steppes!"
"Well, we have a lot of grain for them to eat, but in fact they prefer fresh grass when they can get it. And in a pinch, they can eat darned nearly anything. Anna! Come here, girl!"
The ambassador looked astounded as Anna came up.
"Anna, this man doesn't think that you can get along without grain. Would you please eat that tree for him?"
Anna looked at the pine tree I'd pointed to, winced, and made an expression of a bad taste in her mouth. Then she looked wistfully at a young apple tree near by.
"Oh, okay. Eat the apple tree instead."
Before the dumbfounded Mongols, Anna and a few of her daughters ate that tree right down to the ground, biting off chunks of wood and chewing them up.
"Well," I said, "this has been a pleasant diversion, but we didn't bring our camping gear with us. There's an inn a dozen or so miles up the road, right on the River Bug. We'll wait for you there and collect on the bet."
"Mongols prefer to sleep under the stars!"
"Suit yourselves. You're welcome to the fire, but be sure to put it out when you leave. Forest fires, you know."
The Big People came when we called them. We saddled up while Cilicia put her clothes back on and galloped off into the pitch-dark night. Big People have the most amazing eyesight. They really can see in the dark.
It was another of my Pink Dragon Inns, one I hadn't visited before. The innkeeper promised to wake me when the Mongols arrived, but they never came. Later the next day we got word that they crossed over into Russia a few miles upstream.
"They cheated on their bet!" Sir Vladimir said.
"Don't worry," Sir Piotr said. "We'll collect in the spring."
Chapter Twelve
All the factories were idle and no one manned the machines. The mines were no longer functioning and the furnaces were cold. The farms no longer had farmers and the countryside looked abandoned.
Right on schedule. The winter of the war was coming and almost every able-bodied young man in southern Poland was training for combat. Our propaganda, appeals, and sometimes outright orders had borne fruit, and from all the lands controlled by the duke came a hundred thirty thousand new men to Hell. In a few weeks, a square mile of nearly empty buildings became the most populous city in Europe. Every skilled man I had was needed to train the new troops, and if we lacked some piece of military equipment, we would just have to do without it. There was no time to build more.
Squires and pages found themselves knighted and training their own lances of six men each. Knights were now knight banners and even captains, and above that we were hard-pressed to keep the command situation from becoming chaos.
Hell itself was chaotic, or at least it must have seemed so to the new men that arrived. There were big signs everywhere, but half of the new people couldn't read, and there was no time to teach them. We even got to painting some men's barracks number on their sleeve so that they could compare it with the numbers over the doors to find their bunks.
But somehow, arms and armor were issued and fitted, men were fed, and training went ahead full blast. There was very little skull work in the training schedule now; the men were not taught to read and write, and there was little mention made of strategy and tactics. We already had all the leaders that we were going to get, and we had only four months to train the men who would do most of the actual fighting.
It was drill and drill and drill, with pike and axe and gun. Even the sword was de-emphasized, since it takes years to make a swordsman. The new troops were issued axes as a secondary weapon. Most of these farmboys already knew how to use an axe.
And amid all this work, doing something that none of us had ever done before, dealing with six times as many people as we had ever handled before, trying to keep track of millions of details without the aid of a computer or even a decent bureaucracy, my liege lord, Count Lambert came visiting.
"Baron Conrad, there is a very serious matter that I wish to speak to you about."
"Yes, my lord?" Shit. A brand new steamboat had just sunk the first time it slid down the ways, six tons of battle-axes had been found to be improperly heat-treated, and we seemed to be out of size-five shin guards. What did he want?
"Can we speak privately?"
"Of course, my lord." I led the way back to my private office, leaving Piotr to track down the fifty-five cases of missing maps.
"It's my daughter, Baron Conrad. She's come to Poland, and I'm worried about her."
"Your daughter, my lord? I'd forgotten that you had one. Well, except for the children that you've gotten off your peasant girls-but I gather you aren't talking about one of them."
"No, no, of course not. I mean my real daughter, the child of my deceased wife."
"I'm sorry, my lord, but I hadn't even heard that your wife had died."
"I suppose that we can allow for the fact that you've been inordinately busy lately, and of course you never met the woman. She lived with her relatives in Hungary for her last eleven years, and of course our daughter was with her. But now that she is dead, my child has returned to me."
This sudden outbreak of parental love surprised me. I'd never known the count to get sentimental about anything before, and his habits with the girls at Okoitz were such that he must have fathered hundreds of children. Oh, he always made sure that the girl was married off properly, and with a decent dowry, but his interest always stopped at that point. Why bring the problem to me?
