Manly Wade Wellman - Novel 1986 (17 page)

They watched her — Wulf, Djalout, Mallul,
Ketriazar, Daris, Yaunis,
Lartius
. She declared her
coming to Thrysdus with all her usual confidence. In a moment of silence around
the fire, Wulf heard the softest of soft voices, like a mutter in a dream. Her
spirits were speaking to her, telling the future. He had never learned to be
used to those voices, nor to anything else about the Cahena.

“So Thrysdus is like a fortress?” she said. “We’ll
see.”

There was more direction of the same plan tomorrow
as the last two days. Let the Moslems run, unless there was some sort of stand.
And let the runners go, let them run, gather in only officers.

Moslem food was brought them. Wulf relished slices
of smoked fish. At last the council broke up and Wulf went to where Susi and
Djalout had made camp. Susi muttered prayers for the rest of Gharna’s soul, but
Wulf could not make out what gods were addressed.

At dawn, yet again the advance across broad
country the Moslems did not try to defend. There were no dead bodies to show
where defense, if any, had been attempted. Birds twittered in trees. Great
camel-loads of plunder plodded behind the advancing warriors. The Moslems had
brought much equipment, much provision, with them, and had abandoned it in
their flight. Wulf wondered what they ate as they ran.

The army passed a sizable sprawl of houses, large
enough for a town. In its midst stood a clay-plastered church, with a clumsily
made cross of rocks on its roof. People cheered them and fell prostrate as the
Cahena rode among them. A pursy, flush-faced man in a swinging black robe came
and bowed at her stirrup.

“I’m the bishop of these Christian people, great queen,”
he rolled out impressively. “Our prayers are answered. God has sent you to
destroy these infidels.”

“Thank you,” she said gravely. “But give your own
thanks to your God for my brave men, my wise chiefs, who have made victory
possible.”

He flourished the sign of the cross at her.

Bhakrann had been given command of the strong
contingent sent to observe, perhaps to occupy, Cairouan. The main force fared
on until the vast pile of Thrysdus rose on the horizon, rosy brown in the late
afternoon sun. Small houses clustered around it and outside those, orchards and
vineyards, spreading like dark, hugging clouds over the ground.

The towering central structure of Thrysdus,
red-brown in the last rays of the sun, looked like a mountain, ruinous though
it was at the top. The Cahena led her staff to the forefront of the army. A
scurrying press of people rushed out past the orchards and vineyards to greet
them. They fell on their faces around the hoofs of the Cahena’s horse, and
several talked at once.

It seemed that the Moslem garrison had fled
Thrysdus without stopping to pack. All who remained were civilians — Jews,
Christians, even some Moslems — who now rejoiced at the flight of their
arrogant masters.

The Cahena spoke graciously to all these, but
authoritatively to Wulf. “Take a couple of hundred men and ride in,” she said.
“Make sure that the enemy is really gone, and send word back to me.”

“At once, Lady Cahena.”

He chose two squadrons of Djerwa, one of them the
following of poor Uchia. Several men of Thrysdus volunteered to guide him. He
took his following along a street fringed with plastered
huts,
and straight to a broad entrance to that huge stone building at the center of
everything. People were there with torches and lanterns to light them.

They came into a wide central arena, open above to
the evening sky. Undoubtedly it had once been skillfully sanded, for headlong
races or for combats of men and beasts, but now it was green with grass, the
blades nibbled down by horses or cattle. Wulf guessed that it was more than
five hundred paces long and nearly that wide, and on all sides of its oval
expanse
rose
sloping bank after bank of seats, enough
as he judged to hold all of the army that followed the Cahena. The men who had
guided him swore again that the Moslems had fairly scuttled away.

“They left food cooking,” declared one. “Some of
them even left their wives — pretty wives, at that.”

Wulf quickly sent parties to ascend on all sides
of the arena and explore every corner of the building. They hastened to do
this, while he waited in the arena with those who held the horses. The patrols
came back to report that all was safe. Back of the seats were corridors and
chambers, fountains of water from some system of conduits, disordered baths,
and here and there kitchens with bubbling pots and meat roasting on spits. Wulf
sent a swift rider to carry this information to the Cahena.

While he waited, he and Susi made a tour of some
of the passages and rooms. Sure enough, food was on fires in several places,
but Wulf did not taste it and posted guards in the kitchens to keep others from
helping themselves. He surveyed with pleasure a great steambath with perfume in
the air, a library of rolled manuscripts,
a
system of
pipes with running water. He encountered several people, most of them women who
simpered at him behind their veils and vowed that they considered him and his
companions as deliverers.

The Cahena and her staff rode into the great open
oval, having halted the main body of the army outside the houses of Thrysdus.
She and Mallul dismounted to hear what Wulf had to say about the situation.
Fires were lighted here and there on the arena’s grassy level, to dispel the
dark. The Cahena herself visited the chambers of the lower tier, and chose a
spacious room with a window looking outward on the corridor. Another room
opened into it from behind.

“Put my things in here,” she directed. “Light a
lamp. Mallul, you can choose a room close by. Wulf, what have you learned about
the retreat from here?”

“That there wasn’t much of an armed garrison, but
a number of officials. They got out long before we came in sight.”

“Bring together all those chief men we captured,”
she said. “Tomorrow, when we’ve set up full possession here, I’ll assemble
those prisoners to talk to.”

She visited the kitchens, peered steadfastly into
pot after pot, murmured over them, and then pronounced them safe to eat.
Warriors found bowls and spoons and served themselves. The Cahena herself ate
only sparingly. She ordered Mallul to see that the herds of horses and camels
and cattle had good grass outside the houses and orchards, with guards to watch
over them. Finally she went to the apartment she had chosen. Many of the
warriors spread their rugs and cloaks on the stone seats of the arena and slept
gratefully.

Wulf and Susi were content to find an adequate
square cubicle, with a single window opening upon the corridor and a stout door
with a bar inside. Susi was soon asleep. Wulf lay wakeful, pondering the army’s
position and the problems it must face. The dwellers at Thrysdus had welcomed
the victors in; he had noticed fraternization between Imazighen warriors and
townspeople. Girls and young women had been especially receptive. Indeed, some
of those were cuddling up to warriors on the great stone benches. But that sort
of easy acceptance might mean an equally easy rejection if a strong enough
enemy force came back. Wulf knew he must make ready for any change in the
fortunes of this war.

When he did sleep, he dreamed of a vast plain on
which rose a sort of forest of Imazighen tombs. Among those things, he thought
he saw a prowling shape as black as charred wood, near at hand but stealthy. In
his dream he followed it, sword drawn, and glimpsed the curved horns on its
head. Khro, he dreamed of Khro, and was glad to wake up at dawn, wash and eat,
and report to the Cahena.

Hassan’s captured officers had been assembled in
the arena. There
were
something like eighty of them,
enough for a squadron, all handsomely turned out in fine turbans and mantles.
They drew together in a close group, and the Cahena with her attendants stood
at the parapet below the lowest bank of seats. She wore her blue cloak, and her
cascade of black hair was bound at the temples with a silk band of gleaming
white.

“I’ll speak to them,” Wulf heard her say to
Djalout. “My Arabic isn’t of the best, and so I ask you to translate what I
say.” She turned to look at Wulf. “Listen to how he translates, Wulf. See that
he doesn’t misquote me.”

“Would I ever do that?” Djalout smiled, unabashed.

The Cahena, too, smiled. Then she faced her glum
audience, and raised her voice:

“You’re men of importance, the officer-companions
of your general, Hassan. I don’t want to hurt
you,
I
don’t want to make you even uncomfortable. Swear to me now, by the name of
Allah your
god, that
you won’t try to escape while
you’re with us, and we’ll treat you as our guests until we see how to send you
back to your own friends.”

Djalout translated. There was a moment of silence.
Then one of the officers stepped clear of his fellows. He was tall, lean,
hawk
-faced. His beard was shot with gray.

“We swear to that, Queen Cahena,” he said, and a
murmur of agreement rose through the gathering.

“You all swear?” prompted the Cahena. “
Does
any of you not swear?”

None offered a denial. She looked them over
searchingly.

“We’ll arrange your return to Hassan,” she said.
“He should be glad to buy you back. We’ll send one of you with a message to
him. We’ll offer an exchange. Each of you can buy us something we need — good
horses or camels, maybe weapons, maybe gold. Is this a fair offer?”

Djalout explained.

“Fair and kindly, by Allah!” shouted back the
spokesman with the gray-shot beard.

“Then you are guests here,” said the Cahena again.
“I’ll send one of you at once, to give your general our terms. Choose somebody
to take that errand.”

There was a buzzing conference among the captured
officers. One voice seemed to protest loudly. The spokesman moved forward again
to address the Cahena.

“Great lady and queen, we asked for our young
companion Khalid ibn Yezid to ride on this errand, but he refuses.”

Khalid moved gracefully into the open.

“Queen Cahena, I do not want to go to Hassan. I
ask that you let me stay here.”

She looked down at him and she smiled radiantly.
“You don’t want to go back to your friends?”

“I want to stay and make new friends among you.”

As Khalid spoke, the others pulled away from him
and stared. Still the Cahena smiled down upon him.

“You wish to turn from being a Moslem?” she asked,
and Djalout translated.

“Mighty queen, I don’t need to turn from being a
Moslem to see that you are great and compassionate and beautiful,” said Khalid,
and Djalout rendered his words into Imazighen.

“Well,” said the Cahena, “stay if you want. I’ll
talk to you later.”

The other officers chose their spokesman to ride
to Hassan. The Cahena ordered that a horse be given him — his own, if it could
be found among the captured stock — and a water bottle and provisions. An
escorting rider would go with him, to get him past whatever was happening with
Bhakrann’s men at the town of
Cairouan
.

To the others she said, “We’ll find quarters for
you to have while the exchange goes forward. You’ll be well treated. If you
want to talk to any of us as friends, I’ll permit that.”

The gathering murmured, as though in applause. A
square-built Moslem said, “You show great mercy, Queen Cahena, and Allah, who
is merciful, sees mercy when it is shown.”

“Thank you,” she said grandly. “Now, my people
will assign you to quarters and see that you’re provided for.”

Turning, she left the parapet. Wulf and Djalout
and others went with her. She walked into the corridor behind, and to the
spacious chamber she had taken for herself. Stopping inside the door, she
raised her head as though to listen.

“My voices,” she said. “They speak here.”

Wulf had a sense as of a hum somewhere, but could
make out no words. The Cahena looked around at them.

“Fetch that young Arab, what’s his name —”

“Khalid ibn Yezid,” supplied Wulf.

“Fetch him to talk to me. I take it that those
others aren’t particularly glad that he said he wanted to stay with us.” She
looked around again. “Have someone bring wine, good wine if we brought it
along. We’ve captured lots of food here, but the Moslems don’t drink wine, at
least they say they don’t.”

Obediently Wulf went to find Khalid, who still
waited in the arena. They went back to the Cahena’s door. The others had left,
and at her beckoning gesture Khalid entered and she shut the door, with Wulf
still outside. He frowned. Would she be safe alone with Khalid?
Probably.
She knew how to read minds, whether to trust those
minds or not.

A hand touched the sleeve of Wulf’s tunic. He
turned. There was Daphne, bunching her cheeks to smile.

“You think
it’s
good
here, Wulf?” she chattered to him. “My father’s going to take over a forge here,
one deserted by the Moslems, but he wants things brought from his Tiergal
place. He’s joining a party riding back there, and he’s left me to look after
things this end.”

Her smile grew wider; it was almost
conspiratorial. “Our new forge, the place where we’ll live, is below here.” She
pointed down. “If you
come
visiting, you won’t miss
it.”

“Thanks,” Wulf said. “Just now, I have about
eighty details to look into.”

She pouted as he turned away.

His first detail was to attend to the captive
Moslem officers. He went down into the arena, where they still stood together
as though waiting for dismissal. Susi went for a horse for the one who would
take the Cahena’s message to Hassan. Then Wulf explored here and there for
living quarters for the others. There were plenty of chambers, and he assigned
them two to a chamber. He spoke in Arabic, and several replied in friendly
fashion.

“Your great queen is merciful to us, but you
weren’t,” said one. “I never saw a champion strike such blows as you struck.
You should be a Moslem, one of us.”

“If I’d been one of you, I’d have been on the
losing side,” said Wulf, smiling. “Maybe killed, if I’d have been chosen to be
killed.”

“Chosen?”

“Something in this country chooses men to die in
battle.
Something with horns.”

“An ifrit,
a djinn
,” said
the Moslem.
“A creature of Satan.”

“Undoubtedly,” agreed Wulf. “Maybe we’ll talk more
about djinns and ifrits while you’re here.”

He went to busy himself in organizing a patrol
system for guarding Thrysdus, bodies of armed men to range through and around
the place to observe in all directions, with subchiefs in command of each. He
told himself that the Djerwa would be best at such a duty, and that Lartius’s
men from the Cirta district would be poorest. He finished his duties for the
day by assigning camp areas here and there outside the arena, with quarters
inside it for the chieftains. Finally he went to a steambath, which refreshed
him greatly. When he dressed and came out, he was told that the Cahena invited
him and her other lieutenants to an evening meal.

Her spacious lodgings had been decorated with
figured hangings and set with cushioned furniture. Wulf found himself in
company with Ketriazar, Yaunis, Lartius, Daris, Mallul, Djalout and Khalid. The
Cahena introduced Khalid as a new ally, an adviser to whom she listened with
profit.