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Legend - David Gemmell
- Дата:20.06.2024
- Категория: Разная литература / Прочее
- Название: Legend
- Автор: David Gemmell
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Описание онлайн-книги Legend - David Gemmell:
Druss, Captain of the Axe, was the stuff of legends. But even as the stories grew in the telling, Druss himself grew older. He turned his back on his own legend and retreated to a mountain lair to await his old enemy, death. Meanwhile, barbarian hordes were on the march. Nothing could stand in their way. Druss reluctantly agreed to come out of retirement. But could even Druss live up to his own legends?
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15
For ten days work progressed. Fire gullies ten yards wide were dug four feet deep across the open ground between Walls One and Two, and again between Walls Three and Four. These were filled with brushwood and small timber, while vats were placed along each gully ready to pour oils to the dry wood.
Bowman's archers hammered white stakes in the open ground at various points between walls, and also out on the plain before the fortress. Each line of stakes represented sixty paces, and his men practised for several hours each day, black clouds of shafts slicing the air above each row as the commands were shouted.
Target dummies were set up on the plain, only to be splintered by scores of arrows, even at 120 paces. The skills of the Skultik archers were formidable.
Hogun rehearsed withdrawals, timing the men by drumbeats as they dashed from the battlements, across the plank bridges of the fire gullies to scale the ropes to the next wall. Each day they became more swift.
Minor points began to occupy more time as the overall fitness and readiness of the troops increased.
"When do we add the oil?" Hogun asked Druss, as the men took an afternoon break.
"Between Walls One and Two, it will have to be filled on the day of the first attack. Until the first day we will have no real idea of how well the men will stand up to the assault."
"There remains the problem," added Orrin, "of who lights the gullies and when. For example, if the wall is breached we could have Nadir tribesmen racing side by side with our own men. No easy decision to throw in a lighted torch."
"And if we give men the duty," said Hogun, "what happens if they are killed on the wall?"
"We will have to have a torch duty," said Druss. "And the decision will be relayed by a bugler from Wall Two. An officer of cool nerve will be needed to judge the issue. When the bugle sounds the gully goes up — no matter who is left behind."
Matters such as these occupied Druss more and more, until his head swam with plans, ideas, stratagems and ploys. Several times during such discussions the old man's temper flared and his huge fists hammered the table, or else he strode around the room like a caged bear.
"I'm a soldier — not a damned planner," he would announce, and the meeting would be adjourned for an hour.
Combustibles were carted in from outlying villages, a seemingly endless number of despatches arrived from Drenan and Abalayn's panicked government, and a multitude of small problems — concerning delayed mail, new recruits, personal worries and squabbles between groups — threatened to overwhelm the three men.
One officer complained that the latrine area of Wall One was in danger of causing a health hazard, since it was not of regulation depth and lacked an adequate cess pit.
Druss set a working party to enlarge the area.
Abalayn himself demanded a complete strategic appraisal of all Dros Delnoch's defences, which Druss refused since the information could be leaked to Nadir sympathisers. This in turn brought a swift rebuke from Drenan and a firm request for an apology. Orrin penned this, claiming it would keep the politicians off their backs.
Then Woundweaver sent a requisition for the Legion's mounts, claiming that since the order was to hold to the last man, the horses would be of little use at Delnoch. He allowed that twenty should be retained for dispatch purposes. This so enraged Hogun that he was unapproachable for days.
Added to this, the burghers had begun to complain about the rowdy behaviour of the troops in civilian areas. All in all Druss was beginning to feel at the end of his tether, and had begun to voice openly his desire that the Nadir would arrive and the devil with the consequences!
Three days later his wish was partly answered.
A Nadir troop, under a flag of truce, galloped in from the north. Word spread like wildfire, and by the time it reached Druss in the main hall of the Keep an air of panic was abroad in the town.
The Nadir dismounted in the shadow of the great gates and waited. They did not speak. From their pack-saddles they took dried meat and water sacks and sat together, eating and waiting.
By the time Druss arrived with Orrin and Hogun they had completed their meal. Druss bellowed down from the battlements.
"What is your message?"
"Open the gates!" called back the Nadir officer, a short barrel-chested man, bow-legged and powerful.
"Are you the Deathwalker?" called the man.
"Yes."
"You are old and fat. It pleases me."
"Good! Remember that when next we meet, for I have marked you, Loudmouth, and my axe knows the name of your spirit. Now, what is your message?"
"The Lord Ulric, Prince of the North, bids me to tell you that he will be riding to Drenan to discuss an alliance with Abalayn, Lord of the Drenai. He wishes it known that he expects the gates of Dros Delnoch to be open to him; that being so, he guarantees there will be no harm to any man, woman, or child, soldier or otherwise within the city. It is the Lord Ulric's wish that the Drenai and the Nadir become as one nation. He offers the gift of friendship."
"Tell the Lord Ulric," said Druss, "that he is welcome to ride to Drenan at any time. We will even allow an escort of 100 warriors, as befits a prince of the north."
"The Lord Ulric allows no conditions," said the officer.
"These are my conditions — they shall not change," said Druss.
"Then I have a second message. Should the walls be contested and the gates closed, the Lord Ulric wishes it known that every second defender taken alive will be slain, that all the women will be sold into slavery and that one in three of all citizens will lose his right hand."
"Before that can happen, laddie, the Lord Ulric has to take the Dros. Now you give him this message from Druss the Deathwalker: In the north the mountains may tremble as he breaks wind, but this is Drenai land, and as far as I am concerned he is a pot-bellied savage who couldn't pick his own nose without a Drenai map.
"Do you think you can remember that, laddie. Or shall I carve it on your arse in large letters?"
"Inspiring as your words were, Druss," said Orrin, "I must tell you that my stomach turned over as you spoke them. Ulric will be furious."
"Would that he were," said Druss bitterly, as the Nadir troop galloped back to the north. "If that were the case, he would truly be just a pot-bellied savage. No! He will laugh… loud and long."
"Why should he?" asked Hogun."
"Because he has no choice. He has been insulted and should lose face. When he laughs, the men will laugh with him."
"It was a pretty offer he made," said Orrin, as the three men made the long walk back to the Keep. "Word will spread. Talks with Abalayn… One empire of Drenai and Nadir… Clever!"
"Clever and true," said Hogun. "We know from his record that he means it. If we surrender, he will march through and harm no one. Threats of death can be taken and resisted — offers of life are horses of a different colour. I wonder how long it will be before the burghers demand another audience."
"Before dusk," predicted Druss.
Back on the walls, Gilad and Bregan watched the dust from the Nadir horsemen dwindle into the distance.
"What did he mean, Gil, about riding to Drenan for discussions with Abalayn?"
"He meant he wants us to let his army through."
"Oh. They didn't look terribly fierce, did they? I mean they seem quite ordinary really, save that they wear furs."
"Yes, they are ordinary," said Gilad, removing his helm and combing his hair with his fingers, allowing the cool breeze to get to his head. "Very ordinary. Except that they live for war. Fighting comes as naturally to them as farming does to you. Or me," he added as an afterthought, knowing this to be untrue.
"I wonder why?" said Bregan. "It has never made much sense to me. I mean, I understand why some men become soldiers: to protect the nation and all that. But a whole race of people living to be soldiers seems… unhealthy? Does that sound right?"
Gilad laughed. "Indeed it sounds right. But the northern steppes make poor farmland. Mainly they breed goats and ponies. Any luxuries they desire, they must steal. Now to the Nadir, so Dun Pinar told me at the banquet, the word for stranger is the same as the word for enemy. Anyone not of the tribe is simply there to be killed and stripped of goods. It is a way of life. Smaller tribes are wiped out by larger tribes. Ulric changed the pattern; by amalgamating beaten tribes into his own, he grew more and more powerful. He controls all the northern kingdoms now, and many to the east. Two years ago he took Manea, the sea kingdom."
"I heard about that," said Bregan. "But I thought he had withdrawn after making a treaty with the king."
"Dun Pinar says the king agreed to be Ulric's vassal and Ulric holds the king's son hostage. The nation is his."
"He must be a pretty clever man," said Bregan. "But what would he do if he ever conquered the whole world? I mean, what good is it? I would like a bigger farm and a house with several floors. That I can understand. But what would I do with ten farms? Or a hundred?"
"You would be rich and powerful. Then you could tell your tenant fanners what to do and they would all bow as you rode past in your fine carriage."
"That doesn't appeal to me, not at all," said Bregan.
"Well, it does to me," said Gilad. "I've always hated it when I had to tug the forelock for some passing nobleman on a tall horse. The way they look at you, despising you because you work a smallholding; paying more money for their hand-made boots than I can earn in a year of slaving. No, I wouldn't mind being rich — so pig-awful rich that no man could ever look down on me again."
Gilad turned his face away to stare out over the plains — his anger fierce, almost tangible.
"Would you look down on people then, Gil? Would you despise me because I wanted to remain a farmer?"
"Of course not. A man should be free to do what he wants to do, as long as it doesn't hurt others."
"Maybe that's why Ulric wants to control everything. Maybe he is sick of everyone looking down on the Nadir."
Gilad turned back to Bregan and his anger died within him.
"Do you know, Breg, that's just what Pinar said, when I asked him if he hated Ulric for wanting to smash the Drenai. He said, 'Ulric isn't trying to smash the Drenai, but to raise the Nadir.' I think Pinar admires him."
"The man I admire is Orrin," said Bregan. "It must have taken great courage to come out and train with the men as he has done. Especially being as unpopular as he was. I was so pleased when he won back the Swords."
"Only because you won five silver pieces on him," Gilad pointed out.
"That's not fair, Gil! I backed him because he was Karnak; I backed you too."
"You backed me for a quarter-copper and him for a half-silver, according to Drebus who took your bet."
Bregan tapped his nose, smiling. "Ah, but then you don't pay the same price for a goat as for a horse. But the thought was there. After all, I knew you couldn't win."
"I damn near had that Bar Britan. It was a judge's decision at the last."
"True," said Bregan. "But you would never have beaten Pinar, or that fellow with the earring from the Legion. But what's even more to the point, you never could have beaten Orrin. I've seen you both fence."
"Such judgement!" said Gilad. "It's small wonder to me that you didn't enter yourself, so great is your knowledge."
"I don't have to fly in order to know that the sky is blue," said Bregan "Anyway, who did you back?"
"Gan Hogun."
"Who else? Drebus said you had placed two bets," said Bregan innocently.
"You know very well. Drebus would have told you."
"I didn't think to ask."
"Liar! Well, I don't care. I backed myself to reach the last fifty."
"And you were so close," said Bregan. "Only one strike in it."
"One lucky blow and I could have won a month's wages."
"Such is life," said Bregan. "Maybe next year you can come back and have another try?"
"And maybe corn will grow on the backs of camels!" said Gilad.
* * *Back at the Keep, Druss was struggling to keep his temper as the City Elders argued back and forth about the Nadir offer. Word had spread to them with bewildering speed, and Druss had barely managed to eat a chunk of bread and cheese before a messenger from Orrin informed him that the Elders had called a meeting.
It was a Drenai rule, long established, that except in time of battle the Elders had a democratic right to see the city lord and debate matters of importance. Neither Orrin nor Druss could refuse. No one could argue that Ulric's ultimatum was unimportant.
Six men constituted the City Elders, an elected body which effectively ruled all trade within the city. The Master Burgher and chief elder was Bricklyn, who had entertained Druss so royally on the night of the assassination attempt. Malphar, Backda, Shinell and Alphus were all merchants, while Beric was a nobleman, a distant cousin of Earl Delnar and highly-placed in city life. Only lack of real fortune kept him at Delnoch and away from Drenan, which he loved.
Shinell, a fat, oily silk merchant, was the main cause of Druss's anger. "But surely we have a right to discuss Ulric's terms and must be allowed a say in whether they are accepted or rejected," he said again. "It is of vital interest to the city, after all, and by right of law our vote must carry."
"You know full well, my dear Shinell," said Orrin smoothly, "that the City Elders have full rights to discuss all civil matters. This situation hardly falls within that category. Nevertheless, your point of view is noted."
Malphar, a red-faced wine dealer of Lentrian stock, interrupted Shinell as he began his protest. "We are getting nowhere with this talk of rules and precedent. The fact remains that we are virtually at war. Is it a war we can win?" His green eyes scanned the faces around him and Druss tapped his fingers on the table-top, the only outward sign of his tensions. "Is it a war we can carry long enough to force an honourable peace? I don't think it is," continued Malphar. "It is all a nonsense. Abalayn has run the army down until it is only a tenth of the size it was a few years ago. The navy has been halved. This Dros was last under siege two centuries ago, when it almost fell. Yet our records tell us that we had forty thousand warriors in the field."
"Get on with it, man! Make your point," said Druss.
"I shall, but spare me your harsh looks, Druss. I am no coward. What I am saying is this: If we cannot hold and cannot win, what is the point of this defence?"
Orrin glanced at Druss and the old warrior leaned forward. "The point is," he said, "that you don't know whether you've lost — until you've lost. Anything can happen: Ulric could suffer a stroke; plague could hit the Nadir forces. We have to try to hold."
"What about the women and children?" asked Backda, a skull-faced lawyer and property owner.
"What about them?" said Druss. "They can leave at any time."
To go where, pray? And with what monies?"
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