bl.necroscope2-第8部分

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or　them…selves。　Like　the　Khazars　before　them；　they　are　putting　aside　the　sword　in　favour　of　the　plough。　If　we　strike　now　they'll　fall　like　grass　beneath　the　scythe！〃　Then；　all　the　Boyars　banded　together；　crossed　the　river；　struck　deep　into　the　southern　steppes。　We　killed　the　Pechenegi　wherever　we　found　them。
　〃But　by　then　I　had　heard　rumours　of　a　greater　peril　in　the　making：　to　the　east　the　Polovtsy　are　rising　up！　They　spill　over　from　the　great　steppes　and　deserts；　expand　westward…soon　they'll　be　at　our　doors。　When　the　Khazars　fell　they　left　the　way　open　for　the　Pechenegi。　And　after　the　Pechenegi？　Which　is　why　I　thought…why　I　dared　to　think…that　perhaps　the　Vlad　would　give　me　an　army　and　send　me　east；　to　put　down　our　enemies　before　they　wax　too　strong。。。〃
　For　long　moments　Prince　Vladimir　simply　sat　and　stared　at　him　from　eyes　half…lidded。　Then　he　quietly　said；　〃You've　e　a　long　way　in　a　year　and　a　month；　Wallach。。。〃　And　out　loud；　to　his　guests：　〃Eat；　drink；　talk！　Honour　this　man。　We　owe　him　that　much。〃　But　as　the　feasting　continued　he　got　up；　indicating　that　Thibor　should　walk　with　him。　They　went　out　into　the　grounds；　into　the　cool　autumn　evening。　The　wood　smoke　was　fragrant　under　the　trees。
　A　little　way　from　the　palace；　the　prince　paused。　Thibor；　we'll　have　to　see　about　this　idea　of　yours…this　eastward　invasion；　for　that's　what　it　would　be…for　I'm　not　sure　we're　ready　for　that。　It's　been　tried　before；　you　know。〃　He　nodded　bitterly。　〃The　Grand　Prince　himself　tried　it。　First　he　tackled　the　Khazars…Svyatoslav　ground　them　down　and　the　Byzantines　swept　up　their　pieces…and　then　he　had　a　go　at　Bulgaria　and　Macedonia。　And　while　he　was　at　it　the　nomads　laid　siege　to　Kiev　itself！　And　did　he　pay　for　his　zeal？　Aye；　however　many　sagas　are　written　about　him。　Nomads　sank　him　in　the　river　rapids　and　made　his　skull　into　a　drinking　cup！　He　was　hasty；　you　see？　Oh；　he　got　rid　of　the　Khazars；　all　right；　but　only　to　let　in　the　damned　Pechenegi！　And　shall　I　be　hasty　too？〃
　The　Wallach　stood　silent　for　a　moment　in　the　dusk。　〃You'll　send　me　back　to　the　southern　steppe；　then？〃
　〃I　might；　and　I　might　not。　I　might　stand　you　down　from　the　fighting　entirely；　make　you　a　Boyar；　give　you　land　and　men　to　look　after　it　for　you。　There's　a　lot　of　good　land　here；　Thibor。〃
　Thibor　shook　his　head。　〃Then　I'd　prefer　to　return　to　Wallachia。　I'm　no　farmer；　Prince。　I　tried　that　and　the　Pechenegi　came　and　made　a　warrior　of　me。　Since　then…all　my　dreams　have　been　red　ones。　Dreams　of　blood。　The　blood　of　my　enemies；　the　enemies　of　this　land。〃
　〃And　what　of　my　enemies？〃
　〃They　are　the　same。　Only　show　them　to　me。〃
　〃Very　well；〃　said　the　Vlad；　I'll　show　you　one　of　them；　Do　you　know　the　mountains　to　the　west；　which　divide　us　from　the　Hungarians？〃
　〃My　fathers　were　Ungars；〃　said　Thibor。　〃As　for　the　mountains：　I　was　born　under　them。　Not　in　the　west　but　in　the　south；　in　the　land　of　the　Wallachs；　beyond　the　bend　in　the　mountains。〃
　The　prince　nodded。　〃So　you　have　some　experience　of　mountains　and　their　treachery。　Good。　But　on　my　side　of　those　peaks；　beyond　Galich；　in　that　area　called　the　Khorvaty　after　a　certain　people；　there　lives　a　Boyar　who　is。。。　not　my　friend。　I　claim　him　as　one　who　owes　allegiance　to　me；　but　when　I　called　in　all　my　little　princelings　and　Boyars　he　came　not。　When　I　invite　him　to　Kiev　he　answers　not。　When　I　express　a　desire　to　meet　with　him　he　ignores　me。　If　he　is　not　my　friend　then　he　can　only　be　my　enemy。　He　is　a　dog　that　es　not　to　heel。　A　wild　dog；　and　his　home　is　a　mountain　fastness。　Until　now　I've　had　neither　the　time；　the　inclination；　nor　the　power　to　winkle　him　out；　but…〃
　〃What？〃　Thibor　was　astonished；　his　gasp　cutting　the　Vlad　short。　〃I'm　sorry；　my　Prince；　but　you…no　power？〃
　Vladimir　Svyatoslavich　shook　his　head。　〃You　don't　understand；〃　he　said。　〃Of　course　I　have　power。　Kiev　has　power。　But　all　so　extended　as　to　be　almost　expended！　Should　I　recall　an　army　to　deal　with　one　unruly　princeling？　And　in　so　doing　let　the　Pechenegi　e　up　again？　Should　I　form　up　an　army　from　farmers　and　officials　and　peasants；　all　unskilled　in　battle？　And　if　I　did；　what　then？　An　army　could　not　bring　this　Ferenczy　out　of　his　castle　if　he　did　not　wish　to　leave　it。　Even　an　army　could　not　destroy　him；　his　defences　are　so　strong！　What？　They　are　the　mountain　passes　themselves；　the　gorges；　the　avalanches！　With　a　handful　of　fierce；　faithful　retainers；　he　could　hold　back　any　army　I　muster　almost　indefinitely。　Oh；　if　I　had　two　thousand　men　to　spare；　then　I　might　possibly　starve　him　with　a　siege；　but　at　what　expense？　On　the　other　hand；　what　an　army　cannot　achieve　might　just　be　possible…for　one　brave　and　clever　and　loyal　man。。。〃
　〃Are　you　saying　you　want　this　Ferenczy　taken　from　his　castle　and　brought　to　you　in　Kiev？〃
　〃Too　late　for　that；　Thibor。　He　has　shown　how　he　〃respects〃　me。　How　then　should　I　respect　him？　No；　I　want　him　dead！　His　lands　then　fall　to　me；　his　castle　on　the　heights；　his　household　and　serfs。　And　his　death　will　be　an　example　to　others　who　might　think　to　stand　apart。〃
　Then　you　don't　want　his　thumbs　but　his　head！〃　Thibor's　chuckle　was　throaty；　without　humour。
　〃I　want　his　head；　his　heart；　and　his　standard。　And　I　want　to　burn　all　three　on　a　bonfire　right　here　in　Kiev！〃
　〃His　standard？　He　has　a　symbol；　then；　this　Ferenczy？　Might　I　enquire　the　nature　of　this　blazon？〃
　〃By　all　means；〃　said　the　prince；　his　grey　eyes　suddenly　thoughtful。　He　lowered　his　voice；　cast　about　in　the　dusk　for　a　moment；　as　if　to　be　doubly　sure　that　no　one　heard。　〃His　mark　is　the　horned　head　of　a　devil；　with　a　forked　tongue　that　drips　gouts　of　blood。。。〃
　Blood！
　Gouts　of　blood　soaking　into　the　black　earth。　The　sun　had　touched　the　horizon　and　was　burning　red　there　like。。。　like　a　great　gout　of　blood。　Soon　the　earth　would　swallow　it　up。　The　old　Thing　in　the　ground　trembled　again；　its　husk　of　leather　and　bone　slowly　cracked　open　like　a　desiccated　sponge　to　receive　the　earth's　tribute；　the　blood　that　soaked　through　leaf…mould　and　roots　and　black；　centuried　soil　down　to　where　the　thousand…year…old　Thibor…creature　lay　in　his　shallow　grave。
　Subconsciously　Thibor　sensed　the　seeping　blood　and　knew；　in　the　way　all　dreamers　〃know〃；　that　it　was　only　part　of　the　dream。　It　would　be　a　different　matter　when　the　sun　had　set　and　the　seepage　actually　touched　him；　but　for　now　he　ignored　it；　returned　to　that　time　at　the　turn　of　the　tenth　century　when　he'd　been　merely　human　and　had　gone　up　into　the　Khorvaty　on　a　mission　of　murder。。。
　They　had　travelled　as　trappers；　Thibor　and　his　seven；　as　Wallachians　who　followed　the　Carpathian　curve　on　a　trek　designed　to　get　them　deep　into　the　northern　forests　by　the　onset　of　winter。　In　fact　they　had　simply　e　from　Kiev　through　Kolomyya　and　so　to　the　mountains；　but　they'd　taken　all　the　paraphernalia　of　the　trapper　with　them；　to　substantiate　their　story。　It　had　taken　them　three　weeks　of　steady　riding　to　reach　the　place　in　the　very　lee　of　the　sheer　mountains；　（a　〃village〃；　consisting　of　a　handful　of　stone　houses　built　into　the　hillside；　half…a…dozen　semi…permanent　cabins；　and　a　smattering　of　gypsy　tents　of　cured　skins　with　the　fur　inside）　which　the　current　incumbents　called　Moupho　Aide　Ferenc　Yaborov；　a　mouthful　they　invariably　shortened　to　Ferenc；　which　they　made　to　sound　like　〃Ferengi〃。　It　meant　〃Place　of　the　Old　One〃；　or　〃of　the　Old　Ferengi〃；　and　the　gypsies　spoke　of　it　in　lowered　tones　and　with　a　deal　of　respect。
　There　were　maybe　a　hundred　men　there；　some　thirty　women　and　as　many　children。　Half　of　the　men　were　trappers　passing　through；　or　prospective　settlers　uprooted　by　Pechenegi　raids；　on　their　way　to　find　homes　further　north。　Many　of　the　latter　group　had　their　families　with　them。　The　remainder　were　either　peasant　inhabitants　of　Ferengi　Yaborov；　or　gypsies　e　here　to　winter　it　out。　They'd　been　ing　since　time　immemorial；　apparently；　for　〃the　old　devil〃　who　was　Boyar　here　was　good　to　them　and　turned　none　away。　Indeed；　in　times　of　hardship　he'd　even　been　known　to　supply　his　wandering　occasional　tenants　with　food　from　his　own　larder　and　wine　from　his　cellars。
　Thibor；　asking　about　food　and　drink　for　himself　and　the　others；　was　shown　a　house　of　timbers　set　in　a　stand　of　pines。　It　was　an　inn　of　sorts；　with　tiny　rooms　up　in　the　rafters　which　could　only　be　reached　by　rope　ladders；　the　ladders　were　drawn　up　when　the　boarder　wished　to　sleep。　Down　below　there　were　wooden　tables　and　stools；　and　at　one　end　of　the　large　room　a　bar　stocked　with　small　kegs　of　plum　brandy　and　buckets　of　sweet　ale。　One　wall　was　built　half　of　stone；　where　burned　a　fire　in　the　base　of　a　huge　chimney。　On　the　fire　was　an　iron　pot　of　goulash　giving　out　a　heavy　paprika　reek。　Onions　dangled　in　bunches　from　nails　in　the　wall　close　to　the　fire；　likewise　huge　coarse…skinned　sausages；　black　bread　stood　in　loaves　on　the　tables；　baked　in　a　stone　oven　to　one　side　of　the　fire。
　A　man；　his　wife　and　one　scruffy　son　ran　the　place；　gypsies；　Thibor　guessed；　who'd　chosen　to　settle　here。　They　could　have　done　better；　he　thought；　feeling　cold　in　the　shadows　of　the　looming　rocks；　the　mountains　whose　presence　could　be　felt　even　indoors。　It　was　a　gloomy　place　this；　frowning　and　foreboding。
　The　Wallach　had　told　his　men　to　speak　to　no　one；　but　as　they　put　away　their　gear；　ate　and　drank；　spoke　in　muffled　tones　to