In view of Ulf self-assurance and obstinacy, the first stages of training went slowly. The Troice officers dealt patiently and philosophically with the problem. By almost imperceptible increments, the strong-minded mountain lads came to understand what was expected of them and to wear their uniforms with ease, and finally they themselves were instructing new recruits with attitudes of indulgent contempt for their awkwardness.
Meanwhile, along the upper moors and into the high glens, a tense quiet prevailed—the quiet not of restful ease, but the quiet of whispers and listening in the dark and held breath: an unnatural condition, affecting the landscape itself, as if the very mountains and crags and gorse and pine forests watched and waited for the first contravention of royal law.
Aillas sent Sir Tristano forth with a suitable escort to test the mood of the far places, and also to solicit further news of the self-proclaimed Daut knight Sir Shalles. Sir Tristano returned to report that he had received correct if somewhat cool hospitality; that the barons were disbanding their armed companies with calculated slowness; and that each house had a litany of wrongs to recite against its foes. As for Sir Shalles, he had not been idle, and appeared here and there to disseminate a wonderful variety of rumors. Sir Shalles, according to best report, was a stocky gentleman of intelligence and credibility, even though a number of his claims were either inherently ridiculous or self-contradictory; his audience could believe what it wanted to believe. He stated that Aillas and the Ska had formed a secret alliance; that ultimately the Ulf barons would find themselves fighting for the Ska. Sir Shalles reported that Aillas was subject to foaming fits, and that his sexual tastes were both freakish and rank. Sir Shalles also had it on the best authority that after King Aillas rendered the barons defenseless, he intended to impose a crushing burden of taxes upon them, and confiscate their lands when they could not pay.
"Is there more?" Aillas asked when SirTristano had stopped for breath.
"Much more! It is widely known that you are already sending shiploads of Ulf maidens back to Troicinet for use in the waterfront stews."
Aillas chuckled. "What about my worship of Hoonch the dog-god? And the fact that I poisoned Oriante so as to become King of South Ulfland?"
"Neither of those, yet."
"We must strike back at this energetic Sir Shalles." Aillas thought a moment. "Announce everywhere that I am anxious to meet Sir Shalles, that I will pay him twice as much as King Casmir does to roam the back counties of Lyonesse spreading tales about King Casmir. Do not yourself go; send messengers with the notice."
"Excellent!" declared Sir Tristano. "It shall be done. Now: another matter. Have you heard the name "rorqual1?"
Aillas reflected. "I think not. Who is he?"
"From what I can gather he is a Ska renegade, who became a bandit and took to the hills. Recently, I was told, he went to ply his trade in Lyonesse, but now he is back, in a secret keep close on the border between the Ulflands. There he has recruited a band of human brutes, and raids into South Ulfland. He has let it be known that he will attack, waylay, besiege and destroy any baron who obeys your rule; for this reason, those barons situated near the North Ulfland frontier are more than normally reluctant to fly your flag. All the while Torqual takes sanctuary in North Ulfland where you cannot go, at risk of arousing the Ska."
"A pretty problem," muttered Aillas. "Have you a solution?"
"Nothing practical. You cannot fortify the border. You cannot usefully garrison all the castles. A sortie into North Ulfland could only amuse Torqual."
"These are my own thoughts. Still, if I cannot protect my subjects, they will not think me their king."
"It is a problem without a solution," said Sir Tristano. "Is that opinion helpful?"
"Eventually Torqual will die of old age," said Aillas. "That might be my best hope."
II
TENSIONS PERSISTED ALONG THE UPPER MOORS. With simple conviction the Ulf barons asserted the changeless reality of the old feuds; they were neither forgotten nor forgiven. Passions were dissembled; retaliations were held in abeyance, while all waited to discover who first would defy the young king, and, with even more interest, how Aillas would respond to the challenge.
The tension broke suddenly, with a majestic doomsday inevitability to the circumstances.
The party at offense was none other than doughty Sir Hune of Three Pines House. In full and ponderous defiance of the law, he waylaid Sir Dostoy of Stoygaw Keep when Sir Dostoy ventured out on the moors for a morning's sport with his hawks. One of Sir Dostoy's sons died in the skirmish; another fled with wounds. Sir Dostoy himself was trussed and flung over the back of a horse like a sack of meal. His captors carried him up the slope of Molk Mountain to Goatskull Gap, down and across Blacken Moor, through Kaugh Forest and so across Lammon's Meadow to Three Pines House. There, Sir Hune made good his threat and nailed Sir Dostoy high on the door of the hay barn, after which Sir Hune called for his supper and ate with gusto while squires of the house used Sir Dostoy as a target for their birding arrows.
Aillas learned of the deed when the wounded second son rode reeling into Doun Darric. He was well prepared. Almost before Sir Dostoy's corpse was cold a strike-force of four hundred men, large enough to discourage intervention by Sir Hune's clan-fellows, yet not so large as to be cumbersome, was on its way to Three Pines House: up Malheu Valley with its train of wagons rumbling at best speed in the rear; along the Tin Mine Road with Molk Mountain looming into the clouds still to the east, then below Kaugh Forest and out upon Lammon's Meadow.
A half-mile to the east, on a hummock of rock, stood Three Pines House behind its fortifications.
Sir Hune received news of the royal reaction by messenger, and was taken aback somewhat by the swiftness of response. He admitted as much to Thrumbo, his Chief Archer. "Ha ha! He moves hard and he moves fast! Well then, what of that? We will hold a parley. I will declare my error, and vow to mend my ways; then we will spit a bullock and swallow a tun of good wine, and all will be well; let the Stoygaw curs yelp as they may."
Such was Sir Hune's first thought. Then, becoming uneasy, he wrote out a letter and dispatched it in haste to the houses of his clansmen:
Bring you and ail your true men to Three Pines, where we must set this foreign king into skreeking defeat! Come at once; I charge you by the donas of biood and the tokens of the dan.
Response to the letter was scant; only a few dozen men answered the call to war, and these lacked all zest. Sir Hune was advised a dozen times to take horse and flee over the hills into Dahaut, but by the time he had reached the same decision, the royal army had arrived at Three Pines House, and instantly placed it under investment.
Sir Hune had pulled up his gate and waited glumly for the summons to parley. He waited in vain, while with sinister efficiency the Troice contingents made their preparations. A pair of heavy mangonels was assembled; at once they began to lob great boulders up, over and down upon the roofs of the structures within the stone walls.
Sir Hune was dumbfounded and outraged; where was the call to parley he had so confidently expected? And he liked even less the sight of the gibbet which was being erected somewhat to the side. It was strong and high, and well-braced, as if prepared for much heavy work.