Kneeling on the step below her, Gy brought to his lips and kissed first the embroidered hem of her skirt, then that small hand on which the massive Ring of Kuhmbuhluhn fitted so loosely. That done, he arose and gathered her into his strong arms.
Though his voice was not so deep as had been his father’s, it was every bit as warm and gentle. “Mother mine. Little mother Giliahna. It has been so long and I have so missed you.”
Prince Gy II of Kuhmbuhluhn proved to need little of the guidance which Giliahna had promised. He slipped into his place and duties as easily as sword into sheath. The polish he had gained at the court of Pitzburk stood him in good stead. He knew and automatically assumed the proper procedures whether granting audience to ambassadors or sitting at judgment in the city court on a case of two merchants accusing each other of unfair competition.
A truculent western noble, who had openly declared that what with the dry summer and the resultant damage to crops in the west he and his peers could not and would not render the usual taxes, was seen by Gy alone. Within an hour, he emerged, all smiles and praises of the young prince.
When asked by Giliahna how he had so quickly wrought such a change, Gy had grinned. “The western harvest was poor, but not so poor as he would have had me believe. Even so, I agreed to accept a sixth, rather than a third, this year; then I appointed him my official surrogate to accept and forward the grain and silver.”
Giliahna wrinkled her brow. “But, Gy, how can you be certain that such a man will deal honestly?”
Gy’s grin widened. “Little mother, I’m sending some of my own clerks—to save him the trouble and expense of hiring such, of course—and if he tries to steal from my revenues, I’ll simply shorten him … by a head.”
And Giliahna knew that the young man was perfectly capable of carrying out that threat, for when an especially predatory and ruthless band of cashiered Freefighters and assorted outlaws began to pray upon the trade road between Kuhmbuhluhnburk and Getzburk, the new prince mustered his horse guards and every resident or visiting nobleman and fosterling who was not too old or too young, and sent gallopers to bear word to both the High Lords in Kehnooryos Atheenahs and to Duke Randee of Getzburk-York that he was campaigning to crush and extirpate the robbers and that he did not mean for borders to stop him.
Old Count Looiz of Kohlzburk, who had soldiered for nearly twenty years before succeeding to his own inheritance and titles and now was Duke Randee’s marshal, met Gy just north of the border with an escort of heavily armed nobles.
After polite greetings, the grizzled veteran got down to business. “Lord prince, Duke Randee is every bit as anxious to do in these scum as are you and he regrets that he cannot join you himself since he much valued the friendship of your late and much-lamented father. But the thrice-damned Iron King has been foraying in force across the northern border, and the duke is up there now with the bulk of our army.”
“When your message reached him, however, he bade me come and assist you as best I can. Lord prince, my gentlemen and I are at your command.”
Mounted foresters and hunters of both realms quickly scouted out a large, sprawling forest camp, and after a long, cold, wet, supperless night, the force struck at dawn. More than two score bandits were slain or seriously wounded, which meant death too. A dozen and a half were captured more or less hale. A number of captives—mostly female and all much-abused—were freed, along with fourscore horses and mules and a fair quantity of assorted livestock. And there was considerable inanimate loot “liberated.”
For all their disparity in numbers—there had been only an eighth as many Getzburkers as the southern force—Gy saw to a precise halving of the booty between the principate and the duchy. Even Count Looiz protested that his lord’s allotted share was too much, for all that he went about grinning like an opossum. But Gy was adamant, pointing out that the action had been fought on the duke’s land and that, as the camp had been situated in Getzburk, the duke could—in strict interpretation of law—claim it all, were he so minded.
“Though, if he did,” Gy chuckled and clapped Count Looiz on the shoulder, “he’d have a war on his southern border, too.”
Back in Kuhmbuhluhn, the prince formally tried his nine captives, found them all guilty of highway robbery, maiming, stock-stealing, rape, kidnapping, extortion of illegal ransoms, murder and numerous other offenses. After public torture and mutilation, all nine were hanged in slow nooses.
But as to the other matter of which his father had bespoken Giliahna, Gy simply shrugged. “My princedom is at peace, I am not yet twenty and there is no urgency to assure the succession. In good time, I’ll wed and bed and sire.”
When news of her father’s death reached the Principate of Kuhmbuhluhn and Giliahna broached her decision to journey to the duchy of her birth, possibly to not return to Kuhmbuhluhn, Gy and all the councilors tried mightily to dissuade her, but she was adamant and spoke to them in terms they could both comprehend and appreciate as the Middle Kingdoms noblemen they basically were, for all their principate’s nominal Confederation allegiance.
“My Lord Gy, gentlemen, I must go back to Sanderz-Vawn on a matter of personal honor and of the honor of my house. A great injustice was done to me and my brother in years agone, and if he be unable or unwilling to go back, then it be my bounden duty to redress that wrong in the blood of those who perpetrated it. Your generous offers of lands and wealth make me feel truly humble in the light of the obvious love for me which impelled them, and please believe that the love I feel for Kuhmbuhluhn and for you all is no less in quantity or quality. But, noble gentlemen that you all are, you must recognize that satisfaction of this, my debt of honor, must come before other considerations.”
The men grouped around the table nodded, one and all—in their minds blood debts took precedence over all else.
Old Archduke Rohluhn scratched at his skimpy white hair. “How many troops will my lady require? And can she estimate for how long the service?”
Before she could answer, Gy snapped, “Stop quibbling, uncle! Our lady is a Princess of Kuhmbuhluhn. She shall have at least one squadron of our horse guards—say, three hundred full-strength lances. And I’ll command them; this business will be settled in short order, I trow!”
Giliahna repressed any trace of her mirth at his still-boyish enthusiasm, saying rather, “Lord prince, as you know, the High Lords permit organized bands of Freefighters to enter and leave the Confederation at will; but what do you think their reaction and that of the Prince of Karaleenos, in whose domains my home duchy lies, would be to an incursion of nearly one thousand household troops of Kuhmbuhluhn led by the reigning prince, himself?”
The aged archduke and several other veteran councilors nodded, and Duke Djaikuhb of Rahbzburk said, “My lady is right, my prince. Before you’d got five leagues south of the border, you’d find yourself boxed in by Confederation dragoons. They’d politely ask your business, then they’d politely point out the decrees of the High Lords forbidding the maintenance or the movements of private armies save on the frontiers, then they’d politely escort you and your lances back to Kuhmbuhluhn and, in a month or so, a messenger would arrive from Kehnooryos Atheenahs with a politely couched reprimand.”
And so, Giliahna left Kuhmbuhluhnburk with only a dozen horse guards and her immediate retainers, conveyed in two coaches and three wagons. Upon hearing that there was a rumor that Duke Hwahltuh of Sanderz-Vawn had died of slow poisoning, Gy would not rest his entreaties until Giliahna agreed to include in her party a Zahrtohgah physician, one Master Fahreed, and his apprentice, Raheen.