The Cry of the Icemark

12



The wide square in front of the Basilea’s palace was lined with people. In the center a pyre had been built using thick stakes of oak, layered level on level so that it soared into the sky like a wooden pyramid. Soldiers were pouring oil and other flammable liquids over the already fuel-drenched wood, and draping the battle colors of the Icemark over two platforms that had been constructed at the top. One was set a yard or so below the other and had Baroness Theowin’s striking hawk insignia placed before it, while the topmost one had been dressed with Redrought’s personal device of the fighting bear.

The sky was a heavy, dark presence threatening more snow, and a bitter wind scythed through the silent ranks of people, causing them to draw their winter cloaks tighter about themselves. In front of the masses stood ranks of housecarls, their armor glittering redly in the light of the torches that each soldier held, and from the buildings that faced the square, long banners of mourning snapped and fluttered in the wind, their deep purple almost black against the brilliance of the snow.

The people had been waiting for more than an hour now, and despite the freezing cold they gave no impression of impatience. All of them were aware that they were about to witness one of the most important events in the history of the Icemark. A great warrior-king and his loyal vassal were to be cremated in as spectacular a ceremony as the heir to the throne could muster, considering the circumstances of war and invasion.

In more normal times the dead monarch would have been cremated on the plain before the city of Frostmarris, and once the flames had died, a mound would have been raised over the ashes. But Princess Thirrin had decreed that the ashes of her father, mixed with those of the Lady Theowin, would be gathered in an urn and no burial mound raised until she had returned to the capital at the head of a liberating army.

A slow drift of snow began to fall, settling on the huge pile of wood in the center of the square and adding fresh layers to the frozen and impacted ice that coated every surface. Oskan Witch’s Son had said there would be a light sprinkling but nothing that would interrupt the funeral, so the people put up their hoods and simply hunched their shoulders against the weather.

Suddenly a fanfare of deep-toned horns rang out, and the housecarls snapped to attention. A murmuring buzz ran through the crowds, and every head craned to see along the main road that led to the citadel. In the distance the gates of the fortress slowly opened, and a long procession filed out. Those citizens at the back where the road entered the square now had the advantage, because they could plainly see the Princess Thirrin in full armor, marching at the head of an escort of housecarls and warriors of the Hypolitan. Beside her walked the Basilea, and just behind them came the witch’s son and Maggiore Totus. The soldiers marched in a square formation surrounding a wide bier that was being carried on the broad shoulders of ten werewolves.

A collective gasp rose up from the people at the sight of the Wolffolk marching with the soldiers. Until Thirrin’s alliance with King Grishmak they’d been the sworn enemies of the Icemark, and most citizens still found their presence within the walls of a city frightening and strange. But as the crowd watched the approach of the procession, the huge creatures kept perfect step with the escorting soldiers, and the sense of their restrained ferocity added a dignity to the funeral beyond that of even the most disciplined troops.

A silence descended, broken only by the slow rhythmic tramp of marching feet. None of the citizens wept. Redrought had been a good King, as far as that affected the lives of the people. He’d demanded no new taxes; he’d threatened no new tithes; and his appetites and interests hadn’t put any extra burdens on the society of the Icemark. What’s more, he’d died doing his job, trying to defend the country from invaders. That was something he’d been good at.

But to most of the citizens the King was a remote figure, and it was hard to relate to his death in a directly emotional way. They were more interested in the practicalities of his successor. Would Thirrin be able to defend the country, and therefore their lives, from the invading Polypontians? So far she’d done well, carrying out the evacuation of Frostmarris with skill and control, and then defeating the enemy cavalry that had pursued them. She’d also shown an amazing ability to form alliances with the most unlikely … people.

In many ways the ordinary citizens found it easier to accept the idea of an alliance with the Wolffolk and with the Oak King and Holly King than the ruling aristocracy did. They were realists who were happy to accept any friendship that would save their skins. Only those who knew that one season’s harvest stood between them and famine truly understood that yesterday’s sworn enemy can be working beside you in the field the next day. Only fools skirmish in their backyard when war is knocking down their front door.

In the meantime they watched the slow advance of the funeral cortege. Not only was it free entertainment in the dark days of the winter but it gave the people a chance to gauge the morale of the ruling elite. If they looked worried, the people had every right to be terrified.

The procession tramped slowly into the square before marching a complete circuit of its perimeter. Thirrin’s face was set in rigid lines, and both Oskan and Elemnestra, the Basilea of the Hypolitan, seemed preoccupied by other matters. Only Maggiore’s scholarly curiosity caused his eyes to dart from one interesting sight to another as he observed the fascinating funeral customs of the country. The people of the Icemark collectively relaxed. There were no signs of anxiety anywhere on the part of the ruling elite.

As the bier passed close to the crowds, many heads craned to see the bodies of King Redrought and the Lady Theowin. The snow the Wolffolk had packed around them had perfectly preserved them, and they both looked suitably stern and warriorlike. The fact that they also looked as though they were sleeping added further to the emotional distance that the people felt, and a strange carnival atmosphere developed as the crowds began to applaud. Thirrin’s composure slipped for a moment, and she looked at the crowds sharply, but then her expression relaxed. Her father would have probably preferred clapping and cheering to weeping. It was, after all, a sign of appreciation.

The procession then approached the pyre, and the escort of soldiers stamped to a halt, allowing the werewolf pallbearers to march forward and slowly climb the stairway that had been built into the huge stack of wood. The crowd now fell silent as the creatures placed the bodies of King and vassal onto their respective platforms and draped them with their personal banners. As they withdrew, the housecarls began to tap sword hilt and ax haft on their shields. Gently and slowly the sound grew and swelled, rolling around the square as it rose to a massive crescendo that echoed back from the lowering clouds and stone buildings. Then slowly it died away to silence as the Wolffolk resumed their positions among the soldiers.

Thirrin had prepared no speech and had called on no others to speak. In her silence lay her grief. In the lack of speech and oration lay the country’s loss. Quietly she stepped forward and, without turning, held out her hand. The Basilea joined her and gave her a compound bow of the Hypolitan and a single arrow, the end of which had been wrapped with pitch-soaked linen. Thirrin fitted arrow to string and drew it back. She nodded, and the Basilea lit the linen-covered head and withdrew. The Princess raised the bow high and loosed the flaming arrow, and it streaked like a tiny comet against the background gray of the heavy clouds.

The crowds followed its course as it arced skyward and then fell in a graceful parabola to land deep in the piled stakes of the pyre. Immediately a small flame licked about the fuel-drenched wood and began to grow. The Basilea now gave a signal, and the female soldiers of the Hypolitan all raised their bows and loosed a rain of flaming arrows onto the pyre. After this the housecarls rushed forward and threw in the blazing torches they’d been carrying, and the pyre erupted into a huge ball of fire that sent a blast of heat against the crowds.

The housecarls resumed their positions and stood watching as the fire settled down to a steady blaze. Now the Wolffolk threw back their heads and began the eerie and mournful howling of their kind, the notes rising up through the octaves and then slowly descending to a silence.

Thirrin watched as the flames roared up to a great height, illuminating the gray and white winter city with golds and fierce reds. She tried to keep her mind clear as the incredible heat slowly unmade the body of the man who’d been her teacher and guide from the time of her earliest memories. She tried to believe that she was watching the honorable funeral rites of a man who was no more important to her than any other great warrior. But the image of a hugely bearded, laughing face kept forcing its way into her mind’s eye. His bluff and gruff kindness had comforted her through many of her childhood hurts and disappointments, but it was the memory of his ridiculous fluffy slippers that finally made her weep.

The sight of the stern young warrior-maiden with tears rolling down her rigid cheeks was an image that many of the people in the watching crowds would remember most about the funeral of Redrought Strong-in-the-Arm Lindenshield, Bear of the North, King of the Icemark.

The council chamber was surprisingly only half full, considering the importance of the meeting that Thirrin had called. At the table there was only the Basilea, the ten members of the ruling council, and five commanders, while Thirrin’s contingent included herself, Oskan, Maggiore Totus, and all of the officers who had marched north with her.

The new Queen of the Icemark was still getting used to the idea of full command and power, and she’d been arguing with her aunt the Basilea for almost half an hour before the meeting had even properly begun.

“I will have all my commanders here at the council, including those of the Hypolitan army!” Thirrin said icily. “Not just those that Hypolitan tradition allows.” And she clasped her hands behind her back in an attempt to stop them from shaking.

Basilea Elemnestra held her niece’s angry gaze for a moment and then said with quiet venom, “But our men are not trained to take part in meetings such as this!”

“Men have positions of command in your army, don’t they?”

“Yes. And anything they need to know will be conveyed by their immediate superiors.”

Thirrin kept her voice low and measured. The slightest waver would show just how scared she was of her formidable aunt. “So they receive all news and plans at secondhand and are robbed of all immediacy. It’s not good enough, Basilea. I want my orders to be heard directly, not conveyed by someone else who may not give the precise emphasis and weight that I want.”

“It’s not possible for all officers to be at every conference and council. Some commanders will always receive information at secondhand,” the Basilea argued.

“True. That cannot be helped in armies of any great size. But you want to bar at least ten middle-ranking commanders who could easily be at this briefing simply because they’re men, and I will not have it. It’s unjust, ridiculously old-fashioned, and most important it is an inefficient way to conduct military business. Do you really think that General Scipio Bellorum would allow such hidebound traditions to compromise the workings of his war machine?”

“Bellorum is a murderous barbarian; I couldn’t possibly say how he would act.”

Thirrin took a deep, steadying breath. She was determined to at least look as though the Basilea didn’t worry her. “He is the most successful general the known world has ever seen! He took a huge and cumbersome military monster and turned it into a deadly efficient fighting force within five years. And in the last ten years of his command he’s added three countries and five new provinces to the Polypontian Empire. If we’re not to become the fourth sovereign state to be turned into just another administrative area within his Imperial ambitions, we’d better learn to think and act like him. And that means efficiency, and the ability to recognize when the worst enemy we have is ourselves! Now, as Queen of the Icemark I order you to send for your commanders or I will invoke the power of my office and have you replaced by a Basilea who sees sense — aunt or not!”

Maggiore Totus watched his former pupil with a delighted satisfaction he was beginning to expect. Thirrin had already surprised him several times since the war had begun, by showing an accelerating ability to cope with situations that were beyond anything she’d experienced before. However, he thought to himself, this was a very delicate situation. She couldn’t afford to alienate any part of society in this time of extreme crisis, and how she resolved this conflict could affect the outcome of the war.

The Basilea sat in silence for a moment, obviously weighing the content of her niece’s threat. At last she nodded, spoke to a guard, and sent her off to fetch the male commanders.

Thirrin silently breathed a sigh of relief. Ten minutes of uncomfortable silence then followed until the first of the officers began to arrive. Thirrin greeted them with a smile and, understanding perfectly that they’d never been to such a meeting, personally directed them to their seats. She then explained why they were all there.

“This is a council of war. We have five months before the spring begins to clear the roads of ice and snow. In that time I intend to train a fighting force the like of which has never been seen in the Icemark before. It must be efficient, disciplined, and well equipped. I’ve already given orders for the armories to increase their output, and the fyrd has been called. In a matter of days the raw recruits will be coming in, and it is the job of the regular army to train them.”

The most confident of the Hypolitan male officers raised a hand, and Thirrin nodded at him to speak.

“I presume, then, that the training methods for the fyrd are to be changed in some way, Your Highness.”

“No,” Thirrin answered. “They’re to be added to. The period and method of basic training will be the same. But then I want each and every fyrd member to be given the same instruction as the housecarl regiments. I want no elite corps in my army; every soldier is to be a member of the elite!”

For the next hour Thirrin outlined her plans and answered questions on every aspect of her strategy, from instruction to housing and supply. She was horribly aware of the massive task that confronted them and the fact that everyone was relying on her to lead the way. Fortunately she’d already thought long and hard about the issues and had a ready solution for most potential problems.

At last, when all possibilities had been examined, she sat back and smiled. “There’s one more issue that needs to be discussed. I intend to go on a Royal Progress to meet with the Vampires in The-Land-of-the-Ghosts.”

She waited quietly for the uproar of objections to die down and then continued, “I intend to go for one simple reason: We need allies.”

“But we’ve already made alliances with the Wolffolk and with the Holly King and Oak King,” Elemnestra pointed out. “Why risk your life by going to the Blood Palace of the Vampire King and Queen?”

“I’ve discussed this issue with my advisers, Maggiore Totus and Oskan Witch’s Son, and we all agree that if the Icemark is to survive this attack from the Polypontian Empire, then we must have more allies. In fact, the more the better. We must never forget that we’re trying to defend our little country from the largest, most efficient army the world has ever seen. And you all know that it is commanded by the most successful general in all remembered history. Even with the help of the Vampire King and Queen our survival remains doubtful, but without them we are certainly lost.”

“Then send a trusted ambassador in your stead. We can’t risk losing our Queen at this time,” cautioned the Basilea.

Maggiore Totus coughed apologetically and stood up. “That has been considered, but we decided that as relations with The-Land-of-the-Ghosts are at a particularly … low ebb, it would take a diplomatic mission of the highest standing to repair and reestablish proper links. Especially as we will be asking for military aid at the same time.”

“Can you guarantee the safety of the Queen?” Elemnestra demanded.

“Madam, none of us can guarantee that we will be alive to take breakfast tomorrow, let alone the safety of the monarch of a war-torn country. But there are times when risks must be taken for the general good.”

“Then you must take an escorting army with you.”

“And make the Vampire King and Queen think we’re trying to invade?” Thirrin said. “No. I will take a small escort of ten cavalry and twenty infantry.”

“How can we be certain that The-Land-of-the-Ghosts won’t try to invade now that we’re distracted by war in the south?” one of the Hypolitan commanders asked.

“For two reasons,” Thirrin answered easily. “First, none of the border fortresses has reported anything unusual in the way of troop movements, and second, we’re a buffer zone between the Empire and their own lands. Added to that is the fact that the Polypontians are creatures of science and rationality. The Vampire King and Queen would be objects of complete loathing for them: things to be stamped out and purged from the earth. If the Icemark falls, their lands will be next on Scipio Bellorum’s shopping list, and there’d be no option of citizenship in the greater realm of the Empire for any of their … people. They’d all be wiped out. This fact will be our greatest bargaining point in the coming negotiations.”

She looked around the table to see if there were any more questions before going on. “I’ll be taking Oskan Witch’s Son with me, but Maggiore Totus will stay here. The journey may get both hard and hazardous, and I want no casualties among my advisers.”

Another of the male commanders of the Hypolitan raised his hand and she turned to him.

“How will you let the Vampire King and Queen know of your intentions? Surely you can’t just cross the border and expect a friendly reception?”

“Our allies the Wolffolk will smooth the way there. I’ve already been in touch with King Grishmak, and he’s agreed to send emissaries to the Blood Palace. By the time I reach the border, Their Vampiric Majesties will know I’m coming,” Thirrin answered, more confidently than she felt.

“You could, of course, be walking into a trap of your own making,” the Basilea pointed out.

“I could,” Thirrin agreed. “But as we have already said, there are times when risks must be taken. And as this is the case I’ve decided to take as many precautions as I can.” She stood up and, raising her voice so that all could hear her clearly, she announced: “I now name before you all Basilea Elemnestra, my aunt and loyal vassal, as my heir. In the event of my death or disappearance she will be declared Queen and lead you all in the struggle against the Polypontian Empire. I present to her now the Great Ring of State that will be given back to me on my return from embassy.”

Thirrin took the ring from her finger and handed it to the Basilea, who took it with a look of bemusement on her face. Maggiore was as surprised as everyone else by this gesture but, smiling secretly to himself, he had to admit it was the perfect way to heal the rift that had been caused by Thirrin’s insistence that the male staff officers should be present at the meeting. Her growth into her role as Queen of the Icemark was now almost complete, thought Maggiore, and perhaps her Royal Embassy to The-Land-of-the-Ghosts would add those indefinable finishing touches that would make her a truly formidable monarch.

Scipio Bellorum watched his army thoughtfully from his vantage point high on the hill. From here it was possible to follow the tactical patterns precisely as cavalry moved against the disciplined blocks of infantry. He’d ordered live rounds to be used in practice maneuvers and had allowed himself a casualty rate of ten percent. A little wasteful perhaps, but there was nothing like the threat of blood to sharpen a soldier’s concentration, especially when that blood might be his own.

He was well aware of the setback his first invading army had suffered, and now that the snows had come he knew it would be several months before he could send in any substantial reinforcements. It had all been a calculated risk — the snows had been late and there had been a chance that he could have established a strong bridgehead before the spring. Well, that chance had slipped through his fingers, and now he had to make the best of the situation.

The only real problem, as he saw it, was how to keep his troops in tip-top battle readiness over the slow winter months. It was all too easy for a fighting unit to lose its edge. But if he kept them busy with war games and allowed the cannons to use live ammunition as well as the muskets, then he’d have created conditions as near to war as it was possible to get without taking the field against an actual enemy. Horribly wasteful of men and ammunition, of course, but the army could sustain it. And it would be easily justified when he led a fresh and battle-ready invasion force into the Icemark next spring.

He smiled quietly to himself: At least he would be in a state of complete preparedness when the thaw came. No need to wait for regiments to make their way along recently opened roads. They’d all be in position, just waiting for his order to advance.

A short while later he became aware of a pleasant hunger — there was nothing like maneuvers to stimulate the appetite. A little beef for dinner tonight, he thought, cooked very rare, with one of those fine red wines from the latest of my conquests. The two would complement each other perfectly.