《A Gamble of Lords》


 Prologue

    "What a surprise, it''s not snowing!" Karachar''s companion Kitbuga whispered to the rider next to him, "But last time, five of our horses died in a blizzard while we were still two and a half miles below."


    "The world is changing like a galloping horse. I have been coming here for the last twenty years, but I have never seen so little snow." The experienced guide Karachar answered from the side. He looked around in awe. Karachar was the most skilled tracker in Baisungar Mirza''s party. He knew every grain of grass in the vast steppe. He drank in every tribe from the border of Seleonia in the west to the mountains of Azov in the far east. He also visited the major trading cities of Emiriya. He could tell what was going on the steppe by smelling the air.


    But that day, the ever familiar Orkhan mountain seemed to be a stranger to him. There was no snow even at twelve thousand feet. As the evening approached, there was no sound of any elk or a wolf. They rode for eight days. All that time, everything seemed to be overwhelmed by a strange silence. All the mountains were asleep like a hibernating mountain bear in winter.


    "We should camp here like today, Mirza!" the rider in front of Kitbuga dared to suggest. "Our horses are tired. The weakest horses will soon die if they don''t rest."


    "We have enough horses. Mayhap one or two will fall, I don¡¯t care." Mirza replied. He was riding a stallion, black as the darkest cloud in front of the column. The black cloak made of wolf fur on the armour seemed to blend him with the darkness of the evening. The inexperienced Mirza just had passed his boyhood in terms of age. He inherited the title Mirza, the title of a tribal warlord himself after his father Mirza Sanjar was perished in a battle with the Juchins at Oratepa somedays ago. But his position was not secure. His father''s Nahdi concubine, Hafsa, and her bastard son, Akhmad, were plotting from the harem how to wrest power. Next moon Hafsa was taking her son to meet the Khan. Perhaps that wretched wench would want to deceive the lustful old Khan by the magic of her black eyes and her impuding beauty.


    Among the nomadic tribes of the great steppe, after a Mirza''s death, his heir could only be him who received the firman from the Khan, the overlord of all the tribes or to whomever the elders of the tribe sworn allegiance deeming him worthy. The old Khan did not reply to Mirza Baisungar''s letter urging him for the firman. And although the elders of the tribe did not gather under anyone else''s flag, very few chieftains came to swore their allegiance to Mirza Baisungar. So, before Hafsa could go to the Khan, Mirza wanted to prove himself worthy in front of the tribe by offering sacrifice in the sacred cave of the great serpent, Azdaha, and collecting runes from the sacred cave. A perilous journey it was though, as no one in the known past ever found the way of that holy cave. Having the support of the elders of the tribe, Mirza would have little need of the firman of the weak Khan. Karachar knew that. That¡¯s the thing that brought this proud Mirza to seek help from a veteran like him, forgetting his caste pride.


    Mirza had very little time in his hands as he was urging the rest of the party. At any cost, he would have to return to the Urdu before two weeks. But many of his companions were dissatisfied with this relentless journey. Their horses were tired due to lack of rest. As they climbed higher, the number of animals that could be hunted, surprisingly decreased. But this Orkhan mountain, the abode of the great serpent Azdaha, was no more than a paradise for the mountain elks and yaks. "If anyone wants to go back out of fear, he can go," said Mirza, getting wind of rebellion on his companions'' faces. "When I¡¯ll go back after this expedition, I will open him from the guts to the balls."


    Almost every eyes in the group lit up in anger. Before anyone could say anything, Karachar said handling the situation, "Mirza, let us go a little further. Let the rest of the group feed the horses and get some rest. By that time, we will be able to find a place to make our camp at night."


    Mirza moved ahead riding his stallion without another word. Karachar and Mirza¡¯s sworn sword Gassan followed him, leaving their horses with the rest of the group. It was by then dark all around. The leaves were purple in colour. In the far distant horizon, the moon was peeking through the clouds and gazing at the vast emptiness of the great steppe below. The three of them moved ahead into the darkness.


    "Do you remember your first foray?" Mirza asked to break the silence.


    "Aye, Mirza. I was then only twelve, accompanied my father on my first expedition, the invasion of the city of Sarai. The Khan was then the father of the present Khan, Khan Tughlaq, Sly and opportunistic like a fox. He himself led our army. We deceived half of the Tsar''s army and drowned them in the Dniep River."


    "How many people have you killed that day?"


    "Five. I can¡¯t remember all of them. But I can recall the first one I killed. He was a monster of a Knight, riding a grey mare, but huge and wild as a stallion. We surrounded the Tsar''s army on the bank of the Dniep. He charged on us with his horse to break the encirclement. One of my father''s hands was blown off by his blow. As his entire body was covered with mail and plate armor nothing happened to him. I shot an arrow from very close with my bow which pierced through the eye slit of his visor. As I was parrying his last blow with my shield, he fell from his horse to the ground cursing me. Hearing of his courage, Khan Tughlaq arranged for his body to be returned to Sarai as a mark of respect."


    "Didn''t your hands tremble at the moment of firing?"


    "Did your heart tremble in fear, Mirza, when you decided to venture into the great Azdaha¡¯s cave on this impassable route to Orkhan mountain?" Karachar questioned.


    "If you had been in my tent at that time, you would have heard my heart thumping." Mirza shook his head. "But there was no other way."


    "That''s it, sire. Life and war sometimes bring us to a place where we have to act decisively without thinking much. Where there is no room for doubt, fear, apprehension or hesitation." Like a wise village elder, Karachar replied, "It was the same for me at that time. My blood froze like ice in my veins. But in front of that six-and-a-half-foot monster, shooting an arrow was the only way to save life, instead of running away in fear."


    "Bugger your wisdom!" Ghassan''s muttering and cursing on him and Mirza did not escape Karachar''s eyes. "For the sake of that obstinate fool Mirza and his wise elders, they had to come to the Orkhan mountain, so far away from their own Urdu. If Mirza had killed his half-brothers, neither Khan''s firman would have been needed, nor they would have to come to the Azdaha¡¯s mountain. Bloody fools like Karachar and Kitbuga could go to the seven hells with the offering to Azdaha and bugger themselves as much as they liked."


    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    But Karachar didn¡¯t react on that. Poor guy! Being Mirza''s bodyguard, he couldn¡¯t help go with Mirza despite his reluctance. Gassan proceeded with cursing Mirza and his campaign.


    The air was icy cold in the mountains. It was like a frozen knife through the whole sheepskin cloak and pierced through their bones. Snowflakes were hanging from the branches of the pine trees. The faint moonlight was glittering on it. It seemed like the pine trees were studded with diamond pendants. However, no sign of any animal was seen so far. The deer or birds call out to others about any ferocious animal or human movement on the way of the forest. Or packs of ferocious wolves sniffing the scent of a human howl together in excitement for the coming feast. But that forest was completely deserted. Karachar shook his head. There was something wrong here, due to which the ferocious wolves were also silent. Some of the pine trees were bent abnormally. Someone pushed them with great force. An unknown made his body shiver. Still he followed Mirza without saying a word.


    Gasan at last started to whine again, "Mirza, can you feel it? There seems to be something near us."


    Mirza looked back, "Your brain is frozen in the cold, nothing else. Drink some wine."


    "Gassan is right, Mirza!" Karachar agreed with Gasan''s words. "I found some bone marks. The bones are those of an animal that has been burnt and eaten. Not long ago but Just a few hours."


    "Surely any group of the Juchins came before us." Mirza shrugged.


    "The Juchins actually used to signal in advance. War is prohibited on Mount Orkhan. They have no reason to hide. Besides, if someone came before us, there would be footprints."


    "Do you think a dragon has come from the lost lands of Azov?" Mirza sneered.


    "I heard from my granny that the last dragon in the world was lost thousands of years ago during the time of Babek Biyamuz."


    "You can rest assured then. Dragons don''t live a thousand years." Mirza laughed.


    "I don''t know what is around us. But I sense the existence of something." Karachar expressed his apprehension, "We should stop here like today, Mirza! We could start again tomorrow after the rest of our party arrives."


    "Don''t talk nonsense! We do not stop before the second watch of the night." A glimpse of warmth was seen in Mirza''s voice.


    Karachar remained silent. He has seen many such green boys. Many such boys have died in the battles before his eyes. So he went on silently, watching around Mirza''s horse. He kept his ears watchful like a worried rabbit. He clutched the dagger in his right hand tightly. At that moment, the moon was completely covered by the clouds. Darkness was closing in on them. In the dim light of the torches, the path of the mountain forest was evoking an unearthly feeling in their minds. The breathing of Mirza¡¯s horse, the crisp sound of their shoes on the snow and the rhythm of the mountain air seemed to raise the wild tone of the steppe.


    But he could see nothing but determination in Mirza''s eyes. In a dreamy voice, Mirza said, "When I return with the runes of the Great Azdaha, all the warriors of the Black Sheep Barlas tribe will kneel before me and swear allegiance. Then it will be me, who will give the reply with a sword to that Khan. The debt of silence will be paid by blood."


    "The swords of the rest of the Barlas tribes will stand against you." Karachar warned. "Khan''s ancestors have been ruling us for three hundred years."


    "You, the elders yourselves told me that the rule of the steppe is that the warriors follow the one who is the strongest or the bravest. Do you think that the Khan is any of this two?"


    "A weak craven he is." Karachar agreed. As his blood was freezing in the cold, icy air. He drank a long sip of fermented horse milk to relieve his nerves.


    "And when I return, the Barlas tribes will know my courage and strength. I will unite them and the Juchins with them under one banner. Then I will lead them to conquer not only the barren steppe, but also the kingdoms of Emiriya and Seleonia to the west. To plunder the port cities of Tarumanagar across the mountains of the moon in the east." Mirza''s voice was startling like a dream like the glitters of the moonlight on the snowflakes hanging from the pine trees.


    "No one could ever unite the clans of the Barlas and Juchins, Honorable Mirza." Gassan commented. "Many a man had dreamt like you but couldn¡¯t."


    "I will have the means to unite them. I will present before them the runes of the great Azdaha. What do you think unites people more than faith or legends?"


    "Fear." Before Gassan could answer, Karachar replied in a rough voice as the leaves of the pine trees whispered to one another and the surroundings of the wood became hazy with his strange voice. A shadow appeared close by before them and hid again in the darkness.


    "Who''s there?" Mirza shouted in a voice mixed with anger and fear. Not getting any response, Mirza unsheathed his sword and galloped his horse towards it. They crossed a short ridgeway and stepped on a flat piece of land. Mirza''s horse jumped over the high snow pile ahead. Karachar and Gassan slowly climbed up behind. When they looked at Mirza, they saw his face frozen in fear. His eyes were bursting out. Countless bones, half-burnt animal bodies were scattered around on the ice. Coagulated patches of blood were spread around. Screaming Mirza''s horse reared. Unable to keep his balance, Mirza fell from the horseback. Karachar felt that the surrounding forest had suddenly come alive. The cedar, willow and pine branches were getting mad with the wind. Everything around them became dark. Only the sound of an unknown metal clashing with the of Mirza''s steel was being heard.


    A gust of hot wind blew from the right side towards Karachar. He tried to protect himself by kneeling down in lightning speed. The dagger of his right hand was raised above the head. He felt the scorching touch even from a few yards below. He looked ahead. Mirza''s frozen body sank into the darkness of the forest before his eyes. Gassan turned and ran by then. Karachar followed Gasan with all of his strength. His torch was dropped from his hand. Still, he ran like a blind man through the impenetrable darkness. Suddenly he stumbled on a rock and fell. As he tumbled down the mountain slope, he caught hold of a pine branch and lost consciousness.


    He couldn¡¯t remember how long he was senseless. When he woke, the moon came out completely from behind the clouds. The darkness was gone as the wood was flooded by the moonlight. His head seemed to be empty. He laid unmoved under that tree for a while. But when the forgotten fear ceased his thoughts again, he stood up and ran to find the rest of the party. Fatigued, his body was breaking down. It seemed like he was running for an eternity.


    A little further forward, he saw the frozen body of Gassan lying in the gorge below. It was not clear whether he was alive or dead. Ignoring him, Karachar continued to run. And arrived where the rest of the party had been left. But there was no sign of anyone. The fire they lit had just gone out. But there were no footprints of a single horse or man anywhere. The whole party was vanished away. Stunned as he contemplated the fate of his companions, he felt the touch of warm blood on his cheek. He reached the extreme of his panic when he looked up and saw the mangled bodies of all his companions and horses hanging from the branches of the tree above. With brutally sharp claws, someone cut them into strips and arranged them on the branches of a tree like pieces of meat from a butcher''s shop. All of a sudden all of his stamina was exhausted. His two knees dropped due to extreme exhaustion. Just then, in the forest ahead, he saw a pair of eyes staring at him, burning with eternal hunger.

 Chapter 1: Evran I

    There was a crispness in the cool morning breeze. The cloudless sky was heralding the arrival of fall at the end of the third month of summer. The dew drops on the yellowish grass were glittering like pearls in the sweet morning sun. They were heading to the port city of Danver. The youngest of the males in this group of forty was fifteen-year-old Evran. His peer in the group was only Lord Robert''s other squire, Arthur. Even among Lord Robert''s squires at New Castle he was Evran''s closest friend, and partner in boyish mischiefs.


    They were happy and excited about the trip. Lord Robert did not usually go anywhere with such a large party. Only when there was a tournament did he leave New Castle with his squires. But he did not attend the feasts or any other festivities of those tournaments. Neither Evran nor Arthur accompanied him to the tournaments he attended outside Normania, either in Celecia or in Gothia. Eldest of the squires had the privilege of accompanying him at that time. It wasn''t long since Evran and Arthur became the eldest of Lord Robert''s squires. As a result, they rarely had the opportunity to be with him outside of New Castle.


    Their horses were trotting along the road of the Yellow Meadow. First up was chunky ''Short Tom'' Forlon, head of New Castle''s Men at Arms, carrying the banner of House Clyde. The ancient glory of House Clyde seemed to be reflected on his fifty-year-old face. In one hand he held the reins of his sorrel mare, and in the other firmly held the white and red banner of House Clyde. The blue crown on the red crest proclaimed their allegiance to the ruling dynasty of Normania, House Titon. On the white ground below stood the golden lion, the sigil of House Clyde, rampant and aggressive. Woven beneath it in golden thread was House Clyde''s words, "We hunt in pride with pride." The Duchy of Danelaw in the western part of the Kingdom of Normania was ruled by House Clyde for three hundred years. Before that, they held the ancient castle of Lares under the kings of House Cielc for many years, as their loyal bannermen. In Scholar Roli¡¯s room, Evran read in an ancient scroll that, the most prominent among the clans that settled on this island in the north of the Seleonia continent following the great Darren Cielc during the Norman Conquest was the Clan Clyde. In the course of time, the lion''s pride gradually decreased in number in conflicts and struggles. The clan was gone long ago. And then only three male members of House Clyde''s line were alive.


    Duke Robert Clyde, the head of House Clyde, rode behind his standard-bearer. He was riding a black destrier in a serious and pensive state. Even though he was not yet forty, anyone by looking at his face would think he was close to fifty. The long face and gray eyes were manifesting his ancient Narman noble lineage. Looking at the well-formed shoulders and his body, anyone could tell that he was a fierce knight. ''Midnight '', the horse bearing this huge knight, was itself bigger than any other destriers. On the battlefield or in tournaments, any knight and his horse would break at first sight when they saw Lord Robert on the back of Midnight. Any knight and his steed on the battlefield or in a tournament staggered at the first sight of Lord Robert on Midnight''s back.


    Evran remembered when Lord Robert had first visited their village, Ashdown Hill to bring him to New Castle. That day was a dull afternoon of the third month of fall. The leaves of the giant ash tree for which their little village on a hill was named Ash Down Hill were turning brown in anticipation of winter. He saw the duke for the first time when he was returning home after playing with his friends. He was getting down from his horse, and his father was kneeling and kissing his hand. His father, Elmore, was the former kennel master of the kennels of the previous Duke, Lord Martin Clyde. He was expert at taming wild dogs and wolves. Evran heard in New Castle that everyone said his loyalty to House Clyde was like that of a dog or a wolf. But a few months after Evran''s birth, he left New Castle and moved to his village with his wife and infant child.


    The duke, nearly seven feet tall and with a battle-scarred face, seemed like a giant to him. The trimmed, short golden beard on his face could not cover his scars. Rather, it was looking uglier. He was saying something to his father. In response, he heard his father shake his head and plead, ¡°Please, my Lord, I pray to you. When Evran was born, I felt it was time to settle down in my family. It was time to return to my village. So, I left New Castle. We people of these hills and forests are hunters and archers from generations. We don''t have the skill and the chivalry of a knight running through our vein. Please, let my son grow up here, with his loved ones, with his pack. A lone wolf can¡¯t survive in the wilderness."


    Smiling, Lord Robert reassured his father, ¡°Elmore, how could you have saved my life from the blades of the enemy at the battle of the Ox Cross if you had not had valor in your blood! I am forever indebted to you. And that debt will be partially repaid if I can give your son a good future as a hero. As my square he will learn directly from me. Then, when he is knighted, I will bestow upon him the barony of this village and its vicinity.¡±


    None of his father''s arguments could sway the duke. The next day when the duke was returning to his castle at New Castle, Evran was riding beside him on a flea-bitten pony.


    Next to the Duke was Lord Wilhelm Clyde, riding a fine silver palfrey. He was the youngest among their three brothers. His appearance and disposition were in stark contrast to the other two brothers of House Clyde, Lord Robert and Sir Harris. Although quite tall, he looked like a cub rather than a lion compared to his brothers. Instead of House Clyde''s long face, which the other Norman lords called ¡®Horse face¡¯, he inherited the features of his Rumelian mother. He was a handsome man with a medium, round bright face. The golden facial beard was short and trimmed. His face was always smiling. Evran did not remember ever seeing him get angry or misbehave with anyone. Where Lord Robert loved war and tournaments, Wilhelm loved banquets, music and hunting. When he walked through the garden of New Castle in his silk robes, even the angels of heaven seemed less beautiful than he did. Men desired his friendship and women yearned for his company. Even though he was twenty-seven years old, he was still not married for some reason. Although not a warrior like his two elder brothers, his brain was sharper. Lord Robert once said that in whole Normania, only Walrus Black, King Henry III''s royal jester equaled Wilhelm in intellect. By profession, he was the royal spymaster of Normania. Although that was not suitable for nobles like him, Lord Wilhelm enjoyed the role. He spent at least six months a year at the Titon royal court in the capital Tow''s Mouth. He also had his own inn in the capital.


    That day Lord Wilhelm did not wear the golden robes of his house, unlike the Norman custom. Rather, he was dressed in silver, which matched the color of his palfrey perfectly. The beauty of this silver-colored horse with soft and silky snow-white mane, brought from Emiriya was like a reflection of Lord Wilhelm''s god like elegance. Though Lord Wilhelm did not come willingly on this trip, he kept his displeasure hidden behind his smile. Earl Godfrey of Danver invited the members of house Clyde, the ruling house of Danelaw, and his liege lords on his thirty-fifth name day. His intention behind the invitation was to offer the hand of his younger sister Henrietta to Lord Wilhelm.


    Evran saw Henrietta with Earl Godfrey at New Castle last year at the new year''s festival. Rather than the elegance and beauty of a woman, she has the behavior of a male warrior in her. she defeated the best wrestlers among Lord Robert''s men in the wrestling competition at that festival. Maybe she was better suited as a knight in Lord Robert¡¯s army than as the wife of his handsome brother.


    Lord Wilhelm had other reasons for his displeasure. House Percy was ennobled into the aristocracy only two generations ago. Earl Godfrey''s grandfather, Harald, was an ordinary sailor. Then he gradually invested in the spice business and became a rich merchant. Lord Rickard, Lord Robert''s grandfather, seeing his talent, entrusted the small port of Danver to him. That dyeing port regained its life in his hands. Danver became one of the largest ports in Normania and the heart of Danelaw¡¯s trade and economy. And as a reward, the newly founded House Percy got the status of Earl of that emerging port city. So, Lord Wilhelm had every reason not to agree to this match. But Lord Robert had a different point of view. As the third son of the house, it was difficult to find marriageable beautiful brides from the old noble houses for him. In Normania, the eldest son of the family received the inheritance. The rest of the sons received only a small amount of money from the estate. An old noble lord, therefore, would not usually betroth his daughter to a second or third son. They could only marry the daughter of a wealthy merchant or in the families that had just risen to the nobility.


    Not far behind them in a lavish coach pulled by four dray horses were Lord Robert''s lady wife, Elizabeth of House Godslamb of Northrob, the most beautiful woman of Normania, their daughter Roseline, and Robert''s old aunt lady Catherine. Lady Elizabeth was enjoying the countryside, looking through the window. Sometimes was laughing at jests thrown by Lord Wilhelm and her cheeks were turning red like an apple and her teeth were gleaming like pearls. Evran often used to look unblinkingly at her deep blue eyes. Her beauty reminded him of those princesses from the fairy tales, kept captive by an evil dragon in its dark castle.


    Lady Elizabeth''s carriage was being escorted by four armed guards, two on each side, followed by Evran, on a gray rouncey from behind. Her ladies-in-waiting and maids were coming in a four wheeled wagon behind them. Then came some of the household knights and men-at-arms of House Clyde. And, at the tail of this party was Arthur on his chestnut rouncey, overseeing the wagons and servants. Both of them wore leather tunics over cotton tops matching the golden color of House Clyde, Lord Robert''s sigil, the roaring lion embroidered on the chest according to Norman custom, linen trousers in the bottom part of their body, a short sword hanging from their waist, and leather boots on their feet. Arthur was taller than Evran, but of a leaner build. On his face was visible the greenness of the marshes of Danelaw. His green eyes twinkled with excitement. Evran on the other hand was of medium height but healthier. His skin had a slightly brownish tinge, and his eyes were gray, deep and curious. Even though he belonged to a common family from Ashdown Hill, his face would have been mistaken for that of a nobleborn. Arthur was quick and agile in combat practice. Evran, on the other hand, was steady and opportunistic. So, Arthur''s favorite weapon was the spear, and Evran''s the long sword.


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    The men were singing in unison the old folk song of Danelaw, "Of the happy days." Behind their backs hung the lion-painted shield of House Clyde. They marched, singing in a voice full of compassion and clanging their helmets held in their hands by their swords or spears in rhythm.


    ¡°Happy days were when your hand was by my side,


    Signs of your love, my features beautified.


    Happy days were when your words crucified,


    Then my soul resurrected, upward glide.


    Happy days were when the wine, we glorified,


    God was with me while by my side was my bride.


    Happy days were when your candle was my guide,


    And my heart, like a moth, your flames would ride.


    Happy days were when amidst knowledge and pride.


    The drunken laughter was dignified.


    Happy days were when we drank from the cup in our stride,


    And told tales of the things that we tried.¡±


    The Yellow Meadow seemed to be soaked with the anguish of that longing lover of the song. Evran¡¯s eyes filled with tears. Not for an old lover, but for their small wooden house in Ashdown Hill. It had been eight years since he departed from his family. Lord Robert said that only after receiving knighthood did a squire receive leave from his lord or knight. Before that, the test of restraint, discipline and patience had to be given. Lord Robert was kind but strict when it came to discipline.


    Evran was lost in his thoughts, before he was brought back to the present by Arthur¡¯s roaring laughter. He called out from behind, taunting him, "Look ahead, Evie, before you and your horse both lose your balls."


    Hearing Arthur''s jest, the soldiers and servants laughed loudly. At first his cheeks turned red with shame, but soon mischief flashed in Evran''s eyes. He turned his horse and ran towards Arthur. Arthur also spurred his horse to elude Evran. He ran from the back of the group and came to the very front and almost caught Arthur. Then he jumped on Arthur to throw him off the horse. Arthur, realizing his intentions, tried to jump down but couldn¡¯t. He got late because one of his feet got stuck in the horse''s stirrup. Finally, Evran fall on him and both of them got tangled and fell in the mud of the road. They smeared mud on each other and started laughing.


    "The two of them are just like two brothers growing up together." Evran heard Lord Robert say, looking at Lord Wilhelm with a smile. They stopped their horses and watched them.


    "At least they are better than us if we give an example of brotherhood." Lord Wilhelm quipped with his usual smile. ¡°Yes, because they are both equal in courage and valor. Not like us- One is a fearless warrior and the other is a charming coward who loves to hide behind women''s gowns.¡± Lord Robert sent the sarcasm rudely back to Wilhelm. He ground his teeth and looked straight at his brother¡¯s eyes, "Since you were old enough to hold a sword, you never took lessons from your elder brothers or rode a with them. While your two elder brothers took part in crusade, battles and tournaments, you enjoyed feasts and the company of women. Insulting your lineage, you spent money in the business of taverns and brothels. And then you took the charge of a spymaster. And yet you taunt me!¡±


    "Because our elder brother Lord Robert, the great hero of Normania, overshadowed us like a mountain. He has inherited the seat of or father, ancestral sword, banner of our house, and all other things by right. He rode the best horse in New Castle, the best armor given to him, he took the fairest beauty in the kingdom for his wife. And we grew like weeds beneath that banyan tree.¡± Lord Wilhelm continued with a mocking smile on his face. The muscles in his smiling face didn''t even move a bit, ¡°Harris wanted to be like you, but when he saw that the lion¡¯s share of the glory and fame couldn¡¯t reach him past the Lion of House Clyde, he made his choice. And so did I.¡±


    Seeing Lord Wilhelm''s displeasure, Lord Robert softened his tone, "I do not deny that I have the privilege of being the eldest son of the clan, but I did not deprive you of that, Willy." When you marry Lady Henrietta, I will give you the barony of Mohrsville. With the money Earl Godfrey will give you as dowry, you can build a keep of your choice. From where you and your descendants after you will rule forever.¡±


    "And yet you will not declare me your heir. And when you try to have children again after two years, if a son isn¡¯t born, you will relieve Harris from his duty as a Royal Guard and make him your heir. But in your opinion¡ªI know that¡ªthe future of House Clyde will not be left in the hands of a weakling. I refuse to take your gracious gift of that swamp of Mohrsville.¡± Wilhelm said as he turned his horse back. "And even my horse won''t fuck that half male bitch of House Percy."


    Coming out of the mud, Evran saw Lord Wilhelm halted beside Lady Elizabeth''s carriage. His mood was cheerful again. Lady Elizabeth''s soft voice and laughter could be heard from there.


    "The night of the clay! Where did you get such a nice armor made with mud?¡± Lord Wilhelm laughed at him. "Looks like some peasant girl has challenged you to a love fight in her paddy field on the way."


    Lady Elizabeth and Lady Catherine also laughed at Wilhelm''s words. His cheeks became red with shame. He lowered his head.


    "Poor boy! You also forgot to joke after staying with our beloved Lord Bob." Wilhelm patted him on the shoulder. "Go clean up quickly. Your Lord needs you.¡±


    In no time, Short Tom''s horn blown. The horsemen in front of the party had stopped by that time. Evran looked up and saw Lord Robert waving his hand at him. He galloped towards him in that muddy state. Lord Robert''s solemn face became solemner. Even in that temperate weather, drops of sweat were visible on his forehead. Lord Robert took off his gloves and gave them to him. Then he ordered, "Tell the servants to make camp here under the shade of that tree. We will have lunch here.¡± Evran sensed a tinge of worry and fatigue in his voice, "And bring my wine." Evran silently nodded. Then he sighed and walked towards the servants. Apart from Lord Robert''s strength, bravery, loyalty, honor, and all those good qualities, this one was his bad habit. He was a reckless drinker. Even though Evran never saw him get drunk and lose his balance, when he lost his temper or was depressed, he used to drink ceaselessly, forgetting everything.


    When they resumed their journey after resting for a while after lunch, the sun was slowly tilting to the west. Houses and crop fields were decreasing. Once they reached the edge of the forest, Mohr¡¯s wood, no more curious peasants were to be seen gazing inquisitively at their liege lord''s party or young peasant girls snickering at the soldiers. The fallen leaves of the first month of fall were crumbling under their feet on the forest path. The rest of the party was totally silent. The horsemen were beginning to drowse on horseback, and the men at arms were walking forward with their sleepy eyes in the afternoon sluggishness. It was the second day of their journey. At such a speed, they would reach the abandoned fort Old Castle by evening. Then it would take them three more days to reach Danver. Evran looked around and observed their party. Lord Robert was riding with half-closed eyes on Midnight''s back without caring much for the rest. There was no need for much caution as there was no fear of bandits on the road of Danelaw.


    "Let''s go for a race." Evran drew Arthur''s attention.


    "Lord Robert may scold us if we leave the party now." Arthur hesitated. "Don''t you see, he''s not in a good mood!"


    "If he says something, we¡¯ll say we went scouting." He assured.


    After a moment of hesitation, Arthur galloped after him. By that time, Evran had advanced quite a bit. Crossing the stone bridge in front, jumping over the canal, they raced forward laughing on the forest path.


    Sunset saw their swords and spears stained with blood when the rest of their party found them near the broken wall of the Old Castle. Their bodies were wounded in many places. There were several dead wild dogs lying around.


    "What new trouble did you cause?" Lord Robert asked anxiously.


    ¡°My Lord, this old man and his companion were attacked by a pack of wild dogs. We managed to save him. But his comrade died fighting.¡± Evran pointed backwards with his head bowed.


    Arthur grabbed the rescued man with both hands and brought him forward. He was aged above seventy. His ragtag cloak was torn off. A dog took a big chunk of flesh from his right shoulder. The wound in the chest was worse. Blood was oozing out from it.


    "He won¡¯t last long." Evran feared.


    "He looks like a man from Emiriya." Robert was surprised. "What is this old man doing here so far from his own country? Did he tell you anything?"


    ¡°He was calling for help in celician. We haven''t had a chance to ask anything yet." Evran answered.


    "Call our scholar first. We must stop his bleeding.¡± Lord Robert ordered.


    "There is no need for that, Prince." Groaning, the old man interrupted Robert in celician. "I came from Al Qahira. I was a Hakim of Bait Al Hikma in Al Qahira. I was wandering on Seleonian continent with a special purpose.¡±


    As he spoke, a lump of black blood came out of his mouth with a cough. When Robert went to catch him, he stopped him with his hand. He continued to say, "I have traveled around all the lands of Seleonia for years but have failed. In the end, I came to this island. But¡­.¡±


    The old man''s heartbeat stopped before he finished. Arthur closed his lifeless eyes. Short Tom brought the bag of the old man in front of Lord Robert. There were a few silver coins, a torn blanket, and a very carefully kept scroll. In his companion''s bag were some foods, clothes, and some papers with maps drawn on them.


    His companion''s bloodstained sword lay next to his corpse. Lord Robert asked to bring it up. Evran picked it up from the ground and wiped the sword with a piece of cloth. Then began to examine it. It was an Emiriyan curved sword. But its head was not pointy and as narrow as other swords, but broadened and was split in two. Evran couldn¡¯t identify the metal of the sword. But he realized that it was a much better metal than common steel. Lord Robert handed over the scroll to him.


    ¡°Read what is written in it. Then arrange the funeral for the old man. We will spend the night here inside Old Castle tonight.¡± He ordered them.


    Evran opened the scroll as his fingers trembled. It had something written in Aramaic. Aramaic was the sacred language of both the Trinitarian and Masharet religions. Both Evran and Arthur took early lessons in that language from Roli, the lord''s scholar at New Castle. So, he had no difficulty in reading. Evran began to read the text with a trembling voice ¨C


    ¡°???????? ?????? ?????????? ?? ???????? ?????????? ???? ??????????,


    ?? ?????????? ???????? ?????? ?????????????? ?????????? ????????????;


    ?????????????? ?????????? ???? ?????????? ???????? ?????? ????????????,


    ?????? ?????????????????? ?????????? ?????????? ???? ????????.¡±


    Then the last line was not written in rhythm: ¡°And then, the war of the North shall end, and the war for the world shall begin.¡±

 Chapter 2: Arthur I

    Arthur was not supposed to be guarding the camp there, on the ramparts of the Old Castle, as Duke Robert''s squire at that moment. He was a lower-born of the Norman peasantry. At the top of Norman society were the aristocratic lords. The Royals, Dukes, Earls, and Barons. Then, at the second level there were knights, clergymen, and scholars. The third level of society consisted of soldiers, rich prostitutes, merchants and craftsmen, and landed farmers. Those who were in the lowest position were the common prostitutes, landless peasants, and shepherds. Arthur didn''t even know what level his family belonged. He grew up in Lit Point since he was a child, as he could remember. Their squalid orphanage was in the slum below the hill, on which House Gray''s banner fluttered in the sea breeze on the castle¡¯s high towers. The homeless children of peasants, shepherds, and prostitutes grew up there, rolling around in the gutter and mud of the lower depths of society. Some would become part of the eternal cycle of society, becoming peasants and shepherds. Some would grow up as thieves or crooks. The girls would become prostitutes, or if they were lucky, Kirk''s priestess.


    Earl Hamilton Gray was kind. Breaking through the walls of his lofty castle, drops of kindness sometimes were showered on their orphanage. The remnants of the feasts were given to them as per the earl''s order. Someone frequently threw rotten meat, fragrant soft bread from the day before, and a variety of other appetizing foods through the windows of the castle. Sometimes children''s broken toys also fell there. Those who picked up the toys were the envy of others.


    Arthur often remembered a rainy day. He was playing on a haystack near the orphanage with one such broken wooden knight he had picked up. He did not know why Duke Robert had come to Lit Point that day. He stopped seeing him on the side of the road.


    "What is your name? Where do you live?" Duke called him over and asked.


    "Arthur." Then he pointed at his orphanage with his fingers.


    "Arthur! Arthur, do you know the name of the wooden knight in your hand?¡± he asked, smiling.


    "No, but I named him Rolf. Someday I will grow up to be a knight riding such a horse.¡±


    "Oh, you do. But then you must learn to ride a horse from a knight first.¡±


    "You seem to be a knight. Will you teach me?¡± Five-year-old Arthur asked the duke with a child''s innocent simpleness.


    Despite his solemnity, Lord Robert laughed loudly and took Arthur on his horse. And then, at that moment, here Arthur stood on the ramparts as Lord Robert¡¯s favorite squire, always loyal and devoted.


    Arthur was standing on the nearest rampart from the main gatehouse of Old Castle, leaning against the wall. The sky was moonless. This ruined castle was standing silently like a ghost in the pitch-black darkness, announcing its existence. The curtain wall was collapsing in places. The four main watch towers on the four corners were completely devastated. The interior of the castle stood burned for three hundred years, testifying to the barbarity of the Titon conquerors. Among the nearly destroyed buildings inside were the stables, smithy, armory, kitchen, granary, and barracks. The roof of the royal court inside the Great Keep was broken. Only the bedchambers of the Cielc royal family survived. Being the innermost part of the Great Tower, it was saved from the fire. The high library tower in the back was leaning. Its downfall was only a matter of time. The bushes and weeds of the surrounding forest were coming to swallow this thousand-year-old fort.


    Like Evran, he was not bookish. But he loved to listen to ancient ballads and traditional love songs from bards. Once, he heard a song about the story of this castle from a bard who came to New Castle. He sang how Darren Giantsbane had brought the Norman tribes from the frozen lands of the north to this island after defeating the swamp giants in battle. How the nine tribes of Normans established nine kingdoms throughout Normania. How the great Darren killed the mighty king of the giants, Mahar Maharbal. This green forest, Mahar''s Wood, or Mohr¡¯s Wood, was born from the green body of the giant king. Mohr¡¯s Castle was built by Darren himself by burning the giant''s body fat into bricks. Which was later called Old Castle, whose old glory was dusty, desolate, and ruined.


    Arthur didn¡¯t know how much of these stories were true and how much were fiction. But bards said that the lowest depth of the castle''s dungeons contained the ashes of King Darren in a statue of a bronze wolf. Scattered around him were the broken skulls of the giant king. Troubadours used to sing about Darren''s great court. Even the gods used to participate in feasts in his court. Darren himself was a demigod. Elenei, the Queen of the North, mated with Al-Father Vanagandr, who was disguised in the form of a dire wolf. This half-human, half-wolf hero was born from their union. The bards sang that Darren would return in the form of a wolf during the final war of the world to quench his thirst with the blood of the creatures of darkness.


    The orthodox priests of the Trinitarian faith used to say that Darren was a northern barbarian. He killed the aboriginal peoples of this land and occupied their kingdom, and that wolf-skinned barbarian was struck by lightning as a result of his bloodlust and sin. But few people in Normania believed the hateful, gaudy, and romance-less propaganda of the clergy. The Normans only outwardly accepted the Titon dynasty, the Celts and Gauths tribes that came with them, and the heathen trinitarian religion. But they always loved that hero of the ballads of the Norman poets. Who used to take the form of a wolf in the moonlight, who killed the magical dragon with his sharp teeth, raided the lost lands, and rescued his beloved Arragela, the moon goddess. They also hated the three new gods they were forced to worship: the Father, Mother, and Holy Son. For three hundred years, the people of Normania had been forced to participate in their masses and festivals. These three gods were worshiped only by the newcomer tribes and noble families of this country. And the Normans still secretly worshiped their deities of nature. Vanagandr, the sun god; Dimartr, the earth goddess; Fen, the water goddess; and Donor, the god of thunder and storms, were the gods to be ultimately worshipped by them. Even every Norman lord''s castle had a sacred god''s wood, where the ancient sacred tree pair of ash and oak stood proudly. The kings of House Titon could not help but show such little tolerance towards the Norman lords.


    Arthur didn''t know when his eyes were closed, thinking. He woke up to a sound somewhere nearby. Some predators were eating the carcasses of the wild dogs killed by them in the evening. He took the torch from the bracket hanging on the wall and looked down. These were a pack of foxes that came from the surrounding forest. They were eating the flesh of dead wild dogs in utter silence. Looking a little to the left, Arthur understood the reason for the silence of the foxes. A huge bear loomed nearby, chewing on a dog''s carcass. Bears were never used to sharing food with anyone. As a result, he would chase away the jackals as soon as he learned of their presence.


    Arthur saw a huge gray wolf suddenly emerge from the other side of the dead wild dogs. The foxes rushed towards him. Grrrr¡­. growling, the wolf bared its teeth. Its sharp teeth flashed even in the dark. Along with that, a pack of wolves came out of the woods. The foxes couldn¡¯t help but retreat slowly from the carcasses. But the wolf¡¯s growl disturbed the bear¡¯s feast. Annoyed, the freak stood up, leaving his meal. He ran straight towards the wolf. The foxes stood back to watch the fight. The rest of the wolves wanted to advance to help their gray leader. Baring his teeth, the gray wolf forbade them to interfere. Like a true leader, he wanted to lead from the front. Just as the bear was about to pounce on him, the wolf jumped out of the bear''s path. Although it was lightning fast compared to its huge size, the bear narrowly failed. The wolf stood still. Then it began to look around to see the movement of the bear. The bear attacked several times. The wolf was able to jump out at the last moment. In the end, the bear was unable to keep up with its momentum on the last attack and fell down. The wolf turned around in an instant and tore a huge chunk of flesh from the bear¡¯s neck, grabbing it with his sharp teeth. Fatally wounded, the bear couldn¡¯t get up. But without landing the final blow, the wolf left the bear and vanished into the woods with his pack, losing their appetite for dead dogs. The foxes surrounded the dying bear. Arthur moved away from the edge of the rampart and went down the stairs to the inner courtyard. But the events that happened a while ago started floating in his mind repeatedly. Arthur couldn''t get the thought out of his head.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    At the end of his watch, he returned to the great keep to wake Evran for his turn. As he passed in front of Lord Robert''s room, he glanced at it. His door was open. Lord Robert was awake in his bedchamber. A torch was burning in the room. Lord Robert was sitting on a chair in front of the table on one side. He was reading something in the dim light of a candle on the table. Hearing the sound of footsteps, he sensed Arthur''s presence.


    "Come in, Arthur." Lord Robert called without looking back.


    "My Lord, but Lady Elizabeth." He hesitated.


    "Eliza slept in another chamber tonight. You can come in.¡±


    Arthur entered. Lord Robert had a letter in his hand. There was a black envelope on the table with a broken seal with the sigil of spider on it.


    "A friend sent this letter from the capital. A messenger raven brought it to me when you left the party and went forward in the afternoon.¡± Lord Robert showed him the letter. He often used to share some secrets with his two favorite squires.


    "Bad news, my lord?" Arthur asked as his eyes widened.


    "The raven with dark wings brings dark news. Crown Prince Conrad met his demise at the hands of the Masharatees during the crusade in Emiriya. And King Henry the Third has gone mad with grief over the death of his son. Unable to bear this pain, he is getting weaker day by day. He is on the verge of death.


    ¡°So, his uncle, Lord High Chancellor Prince Gabriel, took over as the Protector of the realm of Normania. He has kept the news of Crown Prince''s death a secret till now."


    "Weren¡¯t you Prince Gabriel''s squire? Did he send this letter?¡±


    "No. But the person who sent it was once very close to me and the prince.¡± Lord Robert sighed. ¡°I may have to cut short our visit to Danver and leave for the capital from there. The situation there is getting worse every day.¡±


    Arthur did not fully understand Lord Robert''s words. He didn''t even understand why the situation in the capital was getting chaotic. As the duke of Danelaw, Lord Robert never gave his vassals any chance of court intrigue at New Castle. Lord Wilhelm''s banquets and feasts were usually held outside the castle in New Town. So, he never had the chance to experience the intrigues of the high lords. Lord Robert understood that and said, "You know that when a king dies, his eldest son becomes king. If he has no son, then the eldest brother among his own brothers sits on the throne. And next in line are the nephews and bastard born sons of the king.¡±


    "But, with the death of Crown Prince Conrad, the king has no sons and no brothers or nephews. Even there are no bastard sons of the king.¡±


    "You got it right. Such a situation had never happened before in Normania or in any state of Seleonia. When King Henry the Third dies, his cousin Prince John and the King''s only daughter, Princess Augustine, will both rise to claim the throne. There is no written law in the royal constitution or in the holy book of the Trinitarian faith as to which of them has the greater right. So, both Prince John and Queen Mary, mother of the young princess, are trying to seize power."


    "Who do you think is the true heir, John or Augustine?"


    "According to the ancient law of Norman tribes, even if the king''s child was a daughter, her claim comes before the king''s cousins. But most of the Norman lords would rather support the claim of a man than a girl." Robert stopped for a moment. He picked up the cup next to him and sipped it. Then he continued, "But whoever wants to sit on the throne, it is not possible without the support of Prince Gabriel."


    "Then why are you needed in the capital? Is Prince Gabriel trying to seize power himself in this situation?¡± Arthur asked.


    "Prince Gabriel is the one who has held true power in the royal court for many years. He could have usurped the throne long ago if he wanted. He will not do anything that is against his religion and honor. But he hesitates before taking any decision. Which makes the situation worse. As was the case before Prince Daniel''s rebellion. The passing years have made this old man more wary. He needed to announce the king''s new heir as soon as he heard of Prince Conrad''s death. Or there may be a repeat of the civil war from seventeen years ago. Those who are in the king''s council are more concerned with their own interests than the welfare of the kingdom. I will go there and try to prevent any new conflict. Or else the commonfolk of Normania will be the one who suffers most again.¡±


    They heard someone''s footsteps outside. Someone was standing there. Lord Robert fell silent. Then, to change the topic, he picked up a sword from the side of his armor. Arthur recognized that. In the evening, they brought this awkwardly shaped sword from the dead body of that old Hakim''s companion.


    "Amazing sword, isn''t it?" Robert commented. Then he handed it to him and asked, "Have you ever seen such a sword before?"


    "No, my lord. I have seen Emiriyan curved swords before in the armory. But I have never seen such a double-edged sword, splitted towards the head. Its metal also s different than normal steel.¡± Arthur shook his head.


    ¡°It is made of Mashadi steel. Look at the watery pattern on it.¡±


    Arthur examined it carefully. Numerous lines, like waves, have appeared on it. Its color is not as bright as that of a normal steel sword. Rather, its color is dull blue. Its handle is made of oak wood. The pommel was curved like a lion¡¯s face.


    "The craftsman clan of Mashad had gone long ago. So, no new Mashadi steel swords are seen anymore. This type of steel is rare in Seleonia. A handful of ancient families still have Mashadi steel swords in Emiriya.¡±


    "Do all Mashadi steel swords have two heads?"


    "No, I have never seen such a sword. But I have heard about this kind of sword. The imams of the Mawalid fraction of the Masharatee faith and the fedayeen assassins use these kinds of swords. Only very skilled warriors can wield it.¡±


    Robert took the sword from Arthur''s hand. Then he put it into the leather sheath and handed it again to Arthur.


    "What will be the fate of it now, my lord? Will you keep it as your personal sword?¡±


    "I always wanted to have a Mashadi steel sword in the possession of our house. I once crossed the Pale Sea with the Knights of the Order of the Vigil and went on a crusade to Emiriya. At that time, I tried hard to collect a Mashadi steel sword. But it¡¯s such an asset that money cannot buy. Luckily, I got one of these today.¡± The duke put his hand on Arthur''s shoulder. "But this sword is someone else¡¯s property. We have to hand it over to its rightful owner. Perhaps when the situation in Normania is normal, I will have the opportunity to go with you and Evran to Emiriya in search of its owner. Until then, I entrust you with this sword, Arthur. Always keep it with you and take care of it.¡±


    Arthur carefully picked up the sword and tied it to his sword belt. Lord Robert finished his wine and got up. Upon retiring to bed, he said, "I once heard from a Hakim in Emiriya that Prophet Adel Sharad presented such a double-headed Mashadi steel sword to his brother, the first Imam of the Mawalids, Al Ghalib, upon the prophet¡¯s return from his ascension. The name of that sword was ¡®Al Figar¡¯ in Aramaic, which means ¡®The one that differentiates¡¯.


    "Every good sword has a name. My lord, may this sword have a name until it is returned?¡± Arthur requested.


    "Look at its edge and weight, Arthur. You can cut a horse in two with a single blow. So, I name it ¡®Spine Splitter¡¯.¡± Saying that, he fell asleep.

 Chapter 3: Elizabeth I

    Twelve years had passed since Elizabeth set foot in Danelaw as the daughter-in-law of Lord Martin Clyde, Duke of Danelaw then. But even then, she could not get used to its nature. The moist, salty air from the western sea still made her yearn for her native land, Northrob. She still remembered the cool, dry weather of the north, cloudless, soft sunny days, and starry nights. She would remember knitting wool on winter afternoons watching the snow fall on the kirk''s porch at Lamb¡¯s Bridge Castle. Even then, Lord Dulsen Godslamb''s eye-blazing and luxurious banquets and tourneys, where the best knights of all Normania would attend, were afloat in her memory. The banner of the House Godslamb, on which the holy black sheep would hover on the walls of the castle just below the silvery banner with the crowned yellow and black regal fox of the Royal House. Behind its head was the celestial wheel; it carried a flag with the Holy Cross of the Trinitarian faith. This banner of green and white proclaimed the holy rule of House Godslamb, the representation of God.


    Elizabeth would recall those golden memories. Knights in colorful, polished, shiny armors would rush towards each other on horseback on those tourneys. The champions would crown her the queen of love and beauty. They were fascinated by her long red hair. They would fight hard to win for her. And the valor of the knights- their shapely bodies, their handsome faces, and their moving postures on horseback- would take Elizabeth to the realm of fantasy. Her teenage heart would flutter at the sound of their horses. At the end of the tourney, when everyone gathered in the great hall of their castle for the night feast, she would appear at the high table, enlightening the entire hall with her grace. And the knights of Normandy would welcome her by raising their cups.


    She wanted to be a queen. She wanted to be the wife of the handsome, silver-haired Crown Prince Conrad. Lying in her bedchamber at Lambsbridge Castle, imagining Conrad in silvery armor riding a sleek white horse, Elizabeth would feel wetness under her underwear in the lonely nights. Her body would shiver to receive Conrad''s imaginary caresses. But she was not to become Queen; she became the Duchess of Danelaw, Lord Robert''s wife. Her house had not enough blue blood in its veins to make her a queen. Although they were the rulers of the Duchy of Northrob, it had only been three hundred years since their family passed into the aristocratic ruling class. Gordon, the founder of their house, was an ambitious bellman of trinitarian kirk, who became a priest during the conquest of King Steaven Titon I. As a reward for infusing the rule of the foreign conqueror, House Titon, with the new religion, he received a barony on the northern border of Normania. Leaving the priesthood, he founded his own lineage, House Godslamb. Then each time the Norman lords rebelled against House Titon, their house benefited most each time. They became barons to earls, then earls to dukes. They got ownership of the port of Brunich. In exchange for the pearls and conch that their fishermen extracted from the North Sea, they received countless gold coins from the merchants of Emiriya and Tarumanagara. They became one of the richest houses in Normania. But noble blood was not something that could be obtained by royal favor, piety or gold, at least not as much as it was needed to be the bride of a crown prince. So, even though she was the greatest beauty on the Seleonian continent, she couldn¡¯t be the bride of prince Conrad. She couldn¡¯t help but be satisfied with being the duchess of damp, forest-covered, and gaudy Danelaw.


    On that day, Elizabeth was reminiscing about those colorful memories as she bathed in milk in the bathtub in the thousand-year-old bathroom of the queens of Old Castle. The maid servants spread rosebuds in her tub. The rose buds succumbed to the bloodiness of her lips and wanted to sink into the milk of the bathtub in shame. The attendants ointed her body with turmeric powder brought by the merchants of Tarumanagara. They spread musk brought from Mashriqi Sultanate on her long, red hair, which extended up to her feet. After the bath, she stood up. The attendants put a transparent silk corset on her shapely breasts. Then they put her on a black long gown. Her milky figure bloomed even more in the wide-necked gown. They dressed her in expensive silk socks. Then she put on soft leather shoes imported from the Zengvi Sultanate. After the bath, the wear and tear of the last two days'' travel was gone. She opened the door and stepped graciously outside on the balcony above the inner ward of Old Castle.


    The sun was just rising. Robert was still asleep in his chamber. He may have had too much to drink last night. Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. Excessive drinking was one of the many reasons she disliked him. Robert''s other two brothers, Harris and Wilhelm, also drank wine. But they had their limits. Even Prince Conrad drank a great deal of wine during the feast after the great tournament at Lamb''s Bridge, but it was nothing compared to Robert. The prince used to drink for the sake of pleasure. When the level of his drinking exceeded the limit, he would enliven the hall with laughter and jokes. And Robert drank in selfish solitude, shunning the festivities and tumult. Not for pleasure, but drinking was to him like a knightly vow, like a prayer. And he did not lose control, even after drinking so much. Rather, he would remain sober until he fell asleep. Which Elizabeth disliked even more.


    The guards of the second watch of the night were sleeping in their tents. The rest of the knights and warriors were tending to their horses and armor. In the morning sunlight, this abandoned prehistoric castle looked like the skeleton of a mythical monster. Elizabeth walked from one end of the long balcony to the other. She saw Evran in a corner of the courtyard. He was supervising the attendants, wearing a thin cotton tunic. The sign of nobility was evident in his tender face. Elizabeth scrutinized him. Though he was the son of an ordinary kennel master, he looked like the son of a noble lord. She found a resemblance between Evran and her first love, Prince Conrad.


    "Good morning, Evran!" Elizabeth called him with a sweet smile.


    Evran looked back at him and lowered his head in shyness. ¡°Good morning, my lady!¡± He said it in a shy voice, his face reddened.


    "How do I look?" she asked him, turning left to right and showing herself.


    "Ah, you¡­ you look wonderful, my lady." Evran said it with a trembling voice. He might be embarrassed to talk to his lord''s lady wife like that. Elizabeth giggled like a naughty girl at his embarrassment.


    "Dear Eliza, it is not fitting for a duchess to tease such a gentle boy." Wilhelm''s smiling voice was heard from the back.


    She turned back. Wilhelm wore a red satin shirt with a snakeskin belt around his waist. A heavy golden clock with the lion of House Clyde embroidered on it was draped over the shirt. He was wearing blue denim breeches and leather boots on the lower body. A bejeweled binocular hung from his hand. Wilhelm looked amazing with his golden hair and short, thick beard. Where Robert was solemn as a monsoon cloud, Wilhelm was like a colorful spring morning. She could never get along with the older, humorless Robert. It was hard to match the scarred-faced giant Robert to the knights of her fantasy. On the other hand, Wilhelm was always cheerful. He was not a knight, but like the knights of her imagination, he was handsome, chivalrous, and capable of winning the hearts of women. Robert always did his duty to her as a husband. But it was Willy who valued her feelings.


    "What else can a lady do when her brave husband is sleeping drunk? And her beloved, handsome, good brother may be following someone else!" Elizabeth said it with a frown in her eyes. Then she grimaced her face and said in a feigned emotional voice, "I see that I must take the company of a squire or a bard to relieve my grief."


    "Who else can I turn to but the most beautiful woman in the whole world? Tell me, oh goddess of love and beauty, what can I do to make you smile?" Said Wilhelm in a dramatic way. Then, kneeling, he kissed her hand.


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "Just get me out of here for the time being. I''m suffocating in this haunted castle.¡±


    "I don''t think we can leave before noon. And after noon, we may have to return to your beloved Lord husband¡¯s castle.¡±


    "What! Tell me what happened without riddling." Elizabeth frowned at Wilhelm''s words.


    "My friends sent some secret news from the capital during the night. My dear brother Bob himself may have known it a little differently. But today there will be someone who will change our course.¡± said Wilhelm with a mysterious smile. He suddenly pretended to notice her dress and said, ¡°Ah! You are wearing a black gown. It looks great, my lady. Very timely outfit.¡± Then he said to Evran, ¡°Dear Evran, go and fetch some flowers from the garden for our beautiful duchess. Then tell the maids to make her a crown of flowers.¡±


    Evran left. Elizabeth bit her lip. She tried to understand Wilhelm''s riddle. Wilhelm walked towards the wall, whistling.


    Elizabeth came down to the yard. She started walking restlessly. Suddenly, the sound of hooves came from a distance. Someone was riding towards the castle. She saw the guards on the wall and the gatehouse standing alert in a busy manner. Tom was standing at the main gate. Beside him stood a man holding a trumpet. As Tom pointed, the trumpeter blew it. Elizabeth heard the sound of hooves stop a short distance from the gate.


    "Hail King Henry III of House Titon and Duke Robert of House Clyde! Who are you, strangers? Introduce yourself before entering the castle.¡± Tom called out to the approaching riders.


    "Seeing the armor of the royal guard, don''t you understand who has come, bloody fool?" Someone shouted from the other side. The stranger said in a tone of command, "Open the gate quickly!"


    Tom became silent after being bullied in front of his subordinate guards. He ordered the guards to lift up the portcullis. The old, rusty portcullis was lifted with a heavy rattling sound. Elizabeth saw two knights in armor of the royal guard enter, accompanied by four squires. The silvery plate armor of the two knights glittered in the morning sunlight. They had the emblem of the royal house engraved on their breastplate. From their shoulders was hanging a silvery cloak. Their monstrous destriers were heavily armored. On the right side of each horse hung a shield with a six-pointed star, the sigil of the Royal Guard. First among the knights, the tall man dismounted. He took off his helmet and came toward her. He was almost as tall as Robert. His golden hair crossed his neck, touching his shoulders. The solemnity of Robert was somewhat noticeable on his long face. As his face was cleanly shaved, two light scars were visible on it. Nevertheless, his knightly valor was emerging better with it. The knight knelt down and kissed her hand. ¡°Good morning, my lady. You have become more beautiful since the last time we met.¡±


    Elizabeth smiled and touched his cheek gently with her hand. "Ah! Harry, how long has it been since you come last time? You remembered us at last!¡±


    "The scent of Danelaw¡¯s blooming rose spread all over Normania before crossing the border. How can I not come?" Sir Harris jested.


    Elizabeth smiled softly at that. Then she proceeded to greet the other knight of the Royal Guard. A lady''s grace and nobility were her courtesy. Even in the presence of dear Sir Harris, she did not forget to honor another honorable knight. Bowing, she said, "Welcome to Danelaw, good sir. Will you honor us by introducing yourself?¡±


    The second knight took off his helmet. Then he kissed Elizabeth''s hand and said, "I am Sir Robin Copper, servant of the Titon royal family."


    Elizabeth took a good look at him. She had never seen this knight before. She had never heard of a house called House Copper before. This knight was also young. He had just entered youth. That¡¯s why she had not seen him before in any tournament. To become one of the six knights of the Royal Guard, one had to show outstanding capability. She did not understand how this young knight had earned a place in the Royal Guard by showing such merit. It was Harris who revealed his identity: ¡°Sir Robin Copper was the squire of Lord Cutwell, the duke of Midsteave. His family are vassal house of House Cutwell. He was recently knighted by Prince Conrad. And Prince Gabriel made him one of the six members of the Royal Guard.


    "Sir Robin will go on a further journey. He and our squires must be rested."


    Elizabeth called the servants and sent Sir Robin and the other companions to rest. Sir Robin was observing her beauty with an intent stare. Elizabeth winked at him. She wanted to let him know that the gaze of the Royal Guard did not escape her notice. As they left, she took Harris to the Great Keep. She gently touched his shoulder. "Then, tell me, dear Harry, how can I serve you?" Should I take off your armor with my own hands?¡±


    "I have brought some very important news. I have to leave for the capital again today.¡± Harris said tiredly, ignoring Elizabeth''s erotic voice. "Where''s Bob? I need to meet him first."


    Noticing the look of disgust on Elizabeth''s face, he sighed. "So, Robert hasn''t woken up yet." Then call Willy. Let me discuss the matter with you and Willy first. Let¡¯s go inside the Great Hall.¡± Saying that, he took Elizabeth''s hand and went upstairs.


    In the small cabinet chamber adjoining the vast Great Hall of Old Castle, Elizabeth once observed the expressions on Harris''s face and once that of Wilhelm. Wilhelm was as calm and smiling as ever. Harris was tired and worried from the long journey. Elizabeth saw a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead. Wilhelm broke the silence by clearing his throat. "So, what is so serious that not a messenger bird from the royal court but a royal guard has arrived?"


    "The news is very confidential." Harris lowered his voice. "Prince Conrad has been killed in the crusade in Emiriya. His mummified body was brought to the royal keep only five days ago.¡±


    A muffled sound came out of Elizabeth''s mouth. She thought she might be hearing wrong. The image of the crown prince galloping on horseback with a lance floated before her eyes. Who could defeat such a skilled knight? she thought. Her eyes filled with tears. Wilhelm grasped her hand tightly, understanding her state of mind.


    "Even worse news than the prince¡¯s death is that His Majesty Henry III has died, unable to bear the prince¡¯s death. Until now, Prince Gabriel has kept this news inside the palace. Each royal guard was tasked with secretly conveying orders to all the powerful lords to go to the capital immediately. He did not even risk sending a messenger hawk.


    "Prince Gabriel''s intention is incomprehensible. Maybe he wants to impose a successor on the throne secretly with the great lords. But it won¡¯t be long before the secret is revealed. There will be bloodshed over claims to the throne.¡±


    "The deaths of the Prince and King Henry at the same time are very sad," said Wilhelm. But there was no sign of grief on his face. Instead, his eyes lit up like a hunting cat. He knuckled the ten fingers of his hands together. Then he lowered his voice and said, "The death of a monarch without a son means chaos. The time of rise and fall of the noble houses. If we can strike the iron while it is hot, we will have the power to decide the fate of Normania in our hands."


    "Do you think Robert can make the right decision?" Elizabeth asked in a worried voice. She was suppressing the grief over the crown prince¡¯s death by forcing it on her mind.


    "I don''t think so. That¡¯s why I am discussing it with you first.¡± Harris shook his head. "Meanwhile, Lord Mellis Cutwell, the Duke of Midsteave, is eager to rekindle the old feud with Robert. He is sitting in the capital, bargaining for support with all possible claimants to the throne.¡±


    "Duke Cutwell, Duke Godslamb, Earl Godfrey, so-and-so Duke and so-and-so Earl will all take part on this coming gamble, Harry." Said Wilhelm, climbing up on the cabinet''s oval table and swinging his legs. ¡°We have to be only a game piece in this great gamble if we rely on Bob. We have to do whatever is needed. You arrange to keep the captains of the royal army in your hand in the capital. So that they may take up arms for whom we support in due time.¡±


    "Tell your spies to be alert too, Willy. Tell them to watch over Prince Gabriel and the rest of the royal family, even the lords present in the capital. Now I go and see if our beloved elder brother is up,¡± said Sir Harris, getting up from his chair to leave the chamber.


    "My dear brother, you may not know that a spymaster''s wit is swifter than a knight''s lance." said Wilhelm with his usual mysterious smile. ¡°Even before you came, I got all the news. My friends in the capital are ready.¡±


    They came out of the cabinet chamber to the balcony. By then Robert had woken up. Elizabeth saw Harris walking towards the god¡¯s wood with Robert. Evran was standing outside, having made a flower crown, as Wilhelm had said. Wilhelm took it from Evran''s hand and put it on Elizabeth''s head. Then, as he was about to leave, whistling, he came back and touched her chin and said, ¡°I know you are saddened by Conrad''s death. But now is not the time to mourn, Eliza. Send a messenger hawk to your lord father to prepare his army. He''s getting a chance to repay the debt to some of the blue-blooded members of the royal family."

 Chapter 4: Shajarat Al-Durr I

    Shajarat Al-Durr was standing on the city wall of Al-Qahira and observing the comings and goings of ships on the white sea in the distance. There, a huge merchant ship with white sails was leaving towards Eskenderia, on whose masts fluttered the flag of the sun on the back of an elephant in the sea breeze. Its captain was from the far eastern Sultanate, the Sultanate of Mashreq. It was newly built at the shipyard of Al-Qahira. After being loaded with goods at Eskenderia, it would run from port to port on the continent of Seleonia in the north. Not far away, another ship was coming towards Al-Qahira with a white and green sail. A flag bearing the image of a black sheep fluttered proudly on the top of its masts. It came from a port in Normania, a kingdom north of the Seleonian continent It might be carrying pearls of various colors and sizes. These pearls would adorn the necks and dresses of sultanas like her or the young mistress of an old emir''s harem. And some pearls would go east again in camel caravans to the port city of Saba, then to the eastern lands of Mashreq, Mohini, and Tarumanagara. In exchange for these pearls, the sailors would take a shipload of precious crystals like turquoise, rubies, and sapphires brought from the land of Mohini. The kings and queens of Seleonia would paint their portraits with its powder. A deadly weapon of assassination, poison, would also be made by crushing these stones. Some powerful emirs, kings, or queens would die at the cold blue touch of that commotion.


    Shajarat Al-Durr continued to look out to the sea. The white foamy water of the pale sea was dancing wildly in the whirling wind. The murky waters of the turbulent River Hapi, flowing from the south through the heart of the vast desert of Nabia, and falling on the tumultuous waters of the White Sea, clashed incessantly. As a result, the whirpools created in the estuary were becoming more and more restless. Shajarat al-Durr''s heart was restless too. She was waiting for a royal hawk to bring news from Falisa. For the past two weeks, no messenger bird or qasid had come from her beloved Sultan, Al Sadiq. Not even a ship came from Falisa with letter from Al Sadiq. The last time the news arrived, the sultan had defeated the Seleonian heathens at the Battle of Gazalia and was pursuing them towards Falisa, their last stronghold on the coast of Emiriya. When the Sultan would remain busy at war, he would not pay attention to any other aspect. Not even to his beloved sultana, Shajarat Al-Durr. Still, Shajarat waited for her beloved, with a heart full of agony and eyes filled with tears.


    Most of her twenty-five years of life were spent waiting. She could vaguely remember waiting for her shepherd father to return in the evening with his flock of horses, sheep, and goats, sitting by the fire as a child in their tent on the Chuman steppe. Then she spent most of her childhood as a slave in the Urdu of the Barlas barbarians, after they raided her father¡¯s tent. She never saw her parents again. Nor could she know what happened to them. Shackled in the tent of her Barlas slaver while plucking wool from sheepskin, she only waited eagerly when she would get an opportunity to escape far away from the captivity of the Barlas barbarians. She would still wait when she was sold to a fat slave trader in Shahrizar at the age of eleven. That waiting was for a marginally better fate, not for redemption. By then, she had learned that a steppe girl had to live outside her own tent, either as a spoil of another nomadic tribe or as a slave in a distant land.


    That slave trader had an unclean, wrinkled old maid who would teach his slave girls songs, dances, and flirtatious ploys to entice the wealthy emirs. The elderly woman would do all kinds of atrocities on the girls in order to ease her resentment at having lost her youth. Shajarat would wait for her future buyer, in whose harem she at least hoped to be rescued from this unbearable torture, while enduring that old woman''s flogging. Sometimes the merchant would come to the chamber of the maids. His eyes were mostly on Shajarat. That pervert merchant used to satisfy his lust by abusing her in front of everyone. The merchant did not spoil her virginity. Her beauty had just started to bloom at that time. He kept her virginity intact as he realized that in her youth, she could outshine the world''s fairest maids in beauty, and he could sell her to any rich emir of Emiriya at a high price. But every night the merchant would ride on her in front of everyone. Enduring the touch of the merchant''s manhood on the cleavage of her hips each night, she waited to be auctioned in the slave market. She was finally put up for auction at Shahrizar''s slave market at the age of sixteen. The vizier of the Emir ul Muazzam, Emir Al-Fadl bin Sufiani, paid twenty thousand sun-marked gold dinars for her. She was bought by Al Fadl to give as a gift to the Emir ul Muazzam. But her burning beauty would drive even Al Fadl out of control. Before sending her to the Emir ul Muazzam, the lustful vizier, Al Fadl, used to lick every inch of her body for a month. Shajarat''s body and mind would both shake with hatred. But she used to pretend to have a lustful look on her face while being naked and waited to be sent to the harem of the Emir-ul-Muazzam.


    She got some relief in the harem of the Emir ul Muazzam, Muawiya bin Sakhr. The Emir ul Muazzam had five thousand female bodyguards around him. In addition to Chuman slave girls like Shajarat, slave bodyguards of various nomadic tribes brought from different parts of the world were trained to be the Emir''s bodyguards. He also had countless beautiful concubines in his harem. Though he was surrounded by so many beautiful women, Emir Muawiya had no ability to do anything. The wanton luxuries and overindulgences during his youth had made him impotent. Sometimes, the Emir tried to regain his lost wealth by bringing a naked Shajarat into his bed chamber. But each time, he would send her back after being disappointed due to his weakness. Shajart thought her wait for a comfortable life had come to an end. She thought she could spend the rest of her life in the harem of that impotent Emir without being touched by any other man. But in an irony of fate, she got involved with Al-Sadiq. She fell in love with her beloved sultan.


    With Al Sadiq, another chapter of waiting began for Shahjarat. On the way, Al-Sadiq received the news of his father¡¯s, Sultan Al-Nasir Yusuf¡¯s, death while he was taking Shajarat to Halfia after he snatched her from Muawiya''s harem. Al Sadiq went to war for the throne against his elder brother, Al Afzal, leaving her in the fortress of Kariban. In the fortress of Kariban, surrounded by a handful of bodyguards and servants, the eighteen-year-old Shajarat would wait. She used to stand on the ramparts of the fortress and wait day and night. As far as the eye could see on that horizon, her eyes would look for the traces of sand raised by the horses of the returning Sultan. Sometimes Al Sadiq would return, either after conquering a city or fortress or retreating in a battle. When she entered the palace of Al-Qahira two years later with the victorious Al Sadiq, she did not know that her wait was not over. She found her place as a concubine in the harem of the mighty Sultan Al Sadiq of the Gardi Sultanate. Where the sultan''s legitimate sultanas were daughters of powerful viziers or princesses of neighboring sultans, Al-Sadiq would hardly have the time or courage to care for an insignificant Chuman concubine, even if that concubine was the most beautiful woman in the world. Still, Shajarat waited. She would wait for those auspicious moments¡ªthe nights when she was called to the Sultan''s bed. Years passed by when the Sultan finally consolidated his power on the throne and gave her the status of Sultana. Even after two miscarriages, though she could not give the Sultan any children, he did not set her aside. Although Sultan¡¯s first wife, Ismat al-Din Khatun, was the Sultanatul Azam, or the elder of the sultanas, Shajarat''s influence inside the palace was no less than that of Ismat Khatun. By that time, she had also learned the game of power to cope with Ismat, the daughter of the grand vizier. Most of the Mamalik slave soldiers¡ªthe backbone of the army of the Gardi sultanate¡ªwere her native Chumans. With the support of her native soldiers, she could exert immense influence on the Sultan. From then on, Sultan Al-Sadiq used to spend most of the nights in the bed chamber of Shajarat.


    But the wait was not over for Shajarat. She thought she finally had her beloved as her own. But again, her sultan had to wear armor. For the seventh time, the heathen kings of the Seleonian kingdoms attacked Emiriya in the name of a crusade. Handing over the charge of Al-Qahira and the royal palace to her, the sultan rushed to war. Since then, she has been waiting for her sultan again. She was waiting for the sultan''s letter.


    The soft late afternoon sun fell on her face. The bright sun of the noon had become soft by then. The western wind from the river Hapi was touching her cheeks by removing her niqab over and over. She wore a long robe, like the elite Mashareti women, which covered her from the neck to the feet. On her forehead was an ornamented gold tiara. Her long, red hair was shining in the sunlight like it was being kissed by fire. She braided that hair and kept it in front of her right shoulder. Next to her stood a huge Nabian eunuch, holding an umbrella over her head. Behind her was her handmaiden with a fruit basket. The iced, fresh black grapes glistened in the sun. Seeing that, the maid couldn''t control her temptation to put one or two into her mouth. Shajarat was pretending not to see it.


    "Sultana, Ismat Khatun is going tomorrow to the fort of Dabus with her father, the grand vizier." Said the maid, gulping down a large grape. The sultanas used to gather information about the harem from their handmaidens. Thus, a sultana would always keep an eye on her other consorts. And if she found any fault in someone, she would point it out to the sultan and try to deprive her of the sultan''s favor. This maid of hers was very diligent in this work of information gathering.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Who did you hear from, Fatin?" Shajarat said this without turning towards her. "Is it really true?"


    "Aye, Sultana." Fatin shook her head. Then she came close to Shajarat and whispered, "I have received news from inside the chamber of the elder sultana. Please tell this frigging nigger to go away. Then I will say." She pointed to the umbrella holding Nabian Eunuch. Waving her hand, Shajarat ordered the eunuch to leave.


    "Buluk, the guard of Ismat Khatun''s chamber, told me. He comes to sleep with me at midnight every day. Khatun was telling this to her sister right in front of him." Fatin whispered.


    She narrowed her eyes and asked Fatin, "Buluk comes to you to do what? Isn¡¯t he an eunuch?"


    "Being an eunuch didn¡¯t end the hunger in his eyes, Sultana." Fatin replied with a naughty smile. "He just keeps staring at my naked body in the middle of the night and doing sweet talks."


    "Do you know who else will go?" Shajarat asked, interrupting the savory talk of her maid.


    "Sultan''s cousin, Emir Shirkuh, is going. And some Gardi and Nahdi Salars will accompany them. That''s all Buluk heard, Sultana.¡± Fatin replied. She was disappointed, as she couldn''t continue the bawdy conversation about Buluk the eunuch and her nightly adventure.


    "Tell Bybers to come here immediately!" Shajarat ordered the maid. She was lost in thought. Why would the Grand Vizier and his scheming daughter, Ismat, go to the fortress of Dabus? Shirkuh was going with them too. She never liked this brown-eyed general. He always had an evil plot in his mind. Shirkuh was the commander of the soldiers from the Gardi tribe, the Sultan''s own tribe. And the soldiers of the fortress of Dabus were from the Grand Vizier''s own tribe, the Nahdi tribe. Because of Sultan''s long absence and no news of him, they must have been looking for an opportunity for some conspiracy.


    "There is another interesting news, Sultana! Ismat Khatun¡¯s handmaiden is impregnated by the Crown Prince, Turan Shah.¡± Fatin giggled, leaving.


    She wrinkled her nose after hearing the name of Turan Shah. How could such a drunken and lustful son like Turan be born to such a personable father as the Sultan? she wondered. No doubt it was the fault of the Nahdi blood Turan Shah inherited from his mother. At the age of seventeen, Turan had all the traits to be as mischievous and unruly as he could be. And with the indulgence of his arrogant mother and sly grandfather, his wickedness increased a hundredfold. He even dared to enter the chamber of one of the Sultan''s concubines. As he was the only heir, Sultan did not punish him. Reaching the extreme limits of misadventure, he turned his evil eyes at Shajarat. Though Turan did not dare to do or say anything directly, Shajarat was familiar with the man''s gaze. Tuaran¡¯s lust did not escape her eyes.


    "What is the order for your servant, Sultana?" Bybers kneeled down in front of her, laying down his sword.


    Bybers, a fifty-year-old veteran Chuman warrior, was one of her confidants. As a child, he was sold as a slave to the Gardi Sultanate by Barlas barbarians. Like other Chuman slaves, he joined the Mamalik army, which was made up of slave soldiers. Due to his strict devotion to the Sultan, he earned the honor of royal bodyguard. The Sultan made him the sworn sword of Shajarat.


    "Have you received any news of the Sultan, Bybers?" She asked.


    "No, your grace." Bybers replied with his head down. "It has been seven days since the last messenger bird or any mail horse arrived. The Sultan is preparing to strike the final blow on the besieged city of Falisa. He is very busy with this."


    "Immediately send a spy to Falisa. How many Mamalik warriors are there in the capital?


    "Sultana, we have five thousand horsemen. And among the city guards, there are several Mamalik captains with their loyal infantrymen. Most of them are Chuman warriors.¡±


    "Do you know that the Grand Vizier and Shirkuh are going to Dabus with the Gardi captains?"


    Bybers looked at her in surprise. "What are you saying, Sultana? The Grand Vizier and the Honorable General Shirkuh will march toward Falisa with reinforcements."


    "I have got news that they will go to Dabus. The cat-eyed Nahdi wench, Ismat, will also go with them.¡± Her eyes lit up in anger. "Sultan has not been in the capital for a few days, and they have already started plotting!"


    "I am taking care of this, Sultana! Don''t worry. The loyal Mamalik soldiers are on your side.¡± Bybers said it fiercely. "I will send some of our Mamalik horsemen to follow them."


    "Just following will not do.You send two hundred Chumans in disguise.¡± Harshness was visible on her graceful face. "If it is seen that they are changing their course, they will be arrested. Until the Sultan comes back, they will be detained somewhere in the desert of Nabia. When the Sultan returns, they will be released with a ransom. That would make everyone think that it was the Nabian bandits who kidnapped them.¡±


    "As you ordered, Sultana!" Bybers bowed to her as he went up.


    Shortly after leaving, Bybers came back again with a Mamalik soldier, rushing. The soldier''s clothes were dusty and torn. It was clear that he had come from far away. He had a visible impression of fatigue on his face. He somehow knelt down. Then he opened his mouth with difficulty. His throat was dry and sore due to the long journey.


    "I am coming from the Shimber Fortress, Sultana! Two horses died under me in the restless march.¡± He said, panting. "Mamalik General Aybek sent me with the news of the Sultan."


    "What about the Sultan?" Shajarat asked in a worried voice. She smelled a bad omen. "Where is he? How is he? Why did it take him so long to send the news?"


    "The siege of Falisa has failed, Sultana! King Luther of Celecia showed up with his vast fleet, crossing the pale sea during the war. The Celecian army caught us from the rear.¡± He covered his face with both hands while saying. Then he started crying. "Our great Sultan is seriously injured. His life is in danger. General Aybek has sent me to you directly while keeping this news secret.¡±


    Shajarat''s heart fluttered. She found it difficult to keep herself calm. She asked in a cold voice, "And what about our army?" Where are the forces retreating from Falisa now?¡±


    "They are routed, Sultana! Some of the captains fled toward Halfia. Some went to Al-Beyt. General Aybek retreated to Shimber with the injured Sultan.¡± The messenger replied with a sigh. "Luther''s army captured Hylama and besieged the port of Numan from both the land and the sea. Numan''s small garrison will not be able to hold them back for long. After that, it might be Al Beyt''s turn, Sultana!"


    "I''ll leave for Shimber right now, Bybers! From there, I will go to Al Beyt with Aybek.¡± Shajarat said, turning to Bybers. "Make arrangements for my journey. And send messenger birds to all the Mamalik commanders with the news that Sultan Al Sadiq orders them to appear at once at Al Beyt. I am entrusting the royal seal to you.¡±


    "But, Sultana!" Bybers wanted to say something in a hesitant voice. Shajarat stopped him, raising her hands.


    "Give seven of the best guards with me." She spoke in a tone of command. Her throat was parched. However, Shajarat kept herself strong in front of Bybers. "And give three horses per person. The news of my departure should not even be heard by an ant."


    Bybers nodded in agreement. Shajarat walked towards the palace, giving him instructions: "You will leave immediately with five thousand Mamalik horsemen after detaining the Grand Vizier and his companions. We must protect Al Beyt at all costs.¡±


    The sun had already set when Shajarat was galloping towards Shimber with seven guards an hour later. The vast desert around them was silent. Only the whisper of the sandy south wind from the heartlands of the desert could be heard. This land of yellow sand and black rocks was the northernmost part of the Nabian desert. There was only greenery on both banks of the Hapi River, which runs through the desert. That fertile green land was called Mahrusa, or protected land, by the Nahdi people. The desert on both sides of Mahrusa and the turbulent sea to the north kept it protected. This western part of the Gardi Sultanate on the Nabian continent was the envy of neighboring sultanates.


    As they galloped, she suddenly felt a great pain from her waist to her lower abdomen. She felt a trickle of warm blood on her thighs. She realized that her menstrual cycle had started. Her body twisted in pain. Reluctantly, Shajarat ordered the guards to stop beside a hillock covered with bushes. Then she took a piece of cloth from her bag and went to the other side of the hillock to clean herself. As soon as she stood up, someone grabbed her face from behind. She felt the sharp touch of a dagger on her throat.


    "Your guards are scattered, Sultana! I can finish you and run away before they can do anything. So please listen quietly. I am not the enemy.¡± The attacker said it in a hoarse voice. He removed his hand from Shajarat''s face. "Luther''s army will not go for Al Beyt. They will march to conquer Eskenderia and Al-Qahira. You should prepare to protect Shimber. I''ll be around you. I will try to help you as much as possible. In return, I will ask for your help after the war.¡±


    Shajarat was frozen in fear. By that time, she had recovered. She turned back and saw the man. His face could not be seen, as it was covered with a part of his turban. She could only see his two sharp eyes. But she was reassured by not seeing any sign of hostility in those eyes. Shajarat asked in a low voice, "Who are you?"


    The man did not answer immediately. His horse came out from behind as he whistled sharply. "Remember me," he replied as he stepped into the horse''s stirrup. I am Sinan. Rashid Al Din Sinan. Leader of the Najjaries and Fidayeens.¡±


    Shajarat Al-Durr was stunned with surprise. By that time, the mysterious Fidayeen leader¡¯s horse had started to run. He merged into the darkness of the night in the desert before her eyes.