The Marquis Read Free

decidedly more olive than the very Nordic Conn. In fact, they looked just like his children.
    They looked at him fearfully, their hands in the air.
    Conn told them to put their hands down.
    One spoke. ‘You are not Ancuman.’ It was a statement rather than a question, but a question was in the tone. It came from a middle-aged woman. ‘You are Priecuman but you are not Samrian. This is very confusing…’
    ‘That is true – we are all from a place called Meshech.’
    ‘Meshech? Never heard of it…’
    ‘That I can understand because it is about eight weeks south by ship.’
    ‘Eight weeks? Amazing. The only ones that we know of that arrive from across the ocean are the Ancuman from a place called Kishdah. So is Meshech a part of Kishdah – and are you all minions of the Ancuman?’
    Conn laughed. ‘No, I am certainly not. The Ancuman and I do not have a healthy relationship. To date, it has been extremely unhealthy for them.’
    She looked relieved at this information, though not totally sure as to where they stood.  When she noticed Derryth, she was more confused, almost flustered.
    She addressed him directly. ‘Excuse me, but are you one of the people they called Twacuman – from somewhere called … Iladion?’
    ‘Yes, I am a Twacuman, but I am from Halani in Meshech. It would be my kin who are from Iladion.’
    ‘So what are you doing here? And what just happened then?’
    Derryth shrugged. ‘I don’t have an answer for either question.’ He looked at Conn.
    Conn first introduced himself and then his companions.  ‘I am Conn il Taransay, Eaorl of Rakia in Meshech, and Marquis of Rila in Sytha. This is Derryth il Halani, and Brys il Akarah, Major of my fyrd. As for us being here – I don’t know YET – but I do know I need to get my ship off that sand bar. Do you think you might be able to help?’
    ‘Are you under the employ of the Healdend of Samria?’
    ‘No, I am not.’
    'So you are not here to kill us or take us prisoner?'
    Conn shook his head again. ‘Nope, you are free to do whatever – as long as it doesn’t involve trying to kill us.’
    She laughed as she sent one of her men away to assemble her fyrd.
    ‘I think that opportunity has passed, don’t you? Anyway, since you are not Ancuman, and you have a Twacuman with you; we are delighted to be able to help. I just need to find all my men…your horses seem to have scattered them far and wide.’
    Balios joined them as they walked to the water’s edge. The woman looked at the horse walking beside them in amazement. ‘He is an Elfina isn’t he?’
    ‘He is. Have you seen one before?’
    ‘No, never. They haven’t been seen for hundreds of years. Probably seven hundred years. I imagine there are some in Iladion, but we haven’t seen anyone from Iladion for hundreds of years either, so we don’t know if they have any. I only know of them from stories about the expulsion of the Ancuman by the Casere. We arrived here after that time so all we have are the stories. It’s the colour; I was told that when a horse is touched by a Gyden, they go half white because they are blessed. It also helps explain why my fyrd was defeated by a herd of horses.’ She stopped and looked at him. ‘Did you say Marquis of Rila in Sytha ?’
    ‘Indeed – I was on my way there when I got deposited on your beach.’
    ‘So you were on your way from Meshech to Sytha and you ended up here – washed up on a beach. Have you executed your navigator?’
    ‘It wasn’t his fault.’
    ‘So who is responsible for such an error?’
    ‘In situations like this I like to blame the Gyden.’
    ‘Gyden? It is said that if a Gyden lands you in trouble, you haven’t understood the directions.’ 
    Conn laughed. ‘Directions? What directions?’ He then explained the conditions of the last five weeks.
    She sympathised. ‘Given your experiences, you are almost lucky to have made it this far. My name is Efilda il Samria, currently Wealdend “in opposition” to