Conflict of Interest: Part 7
by ZuiderZee.  (zuiderzee@hotmail.com)
Women in Power for the Wrong Reasons.





     For a gelding, Trooper had surprising spirit.  Ustreed wondered 
not for the first time or the last if the stable-keeper in charge 
hadn't missed in the castration process of this particular horse.  
Perhaps it had a spare set of testicles hidden on the inside, for 
although they didn't show on the outside, Trooper could behave like a 
true stallion under the right conditions.  Trooper simply didn't bite 
and kick other horses which made him far more valuable. 
     Trooper wasn't the fastest steed Ustreed had ridden, but his 
responsiveness and calm in the face of commotion made him an example.  
With an overall coat of grayish brown, he seemed to blend into the 
stony landscape of the high country.  Even his close-cropped mane and 
bobbed tail were the same neutral color.  Once again, it was his 
personality that distinguished him.  Ustreed chose his tack 
carefully, forgoing the brighter, newer leathers with older, more 
worn harness that didn't chafe.  Putting in on him was like adding 
detail to a sculpture.  Holding stock-still, he didn't bloat when 
Ustreed tightened the saddle straps.  Nearby in the stables, horses 
in their pens stomped and whinnied in the chill of the morning, 
wanting to get out and run.

     "It's unusually foggy this morning--" Poul, the chief stabler 
hammered in the last of five long iron nails into the paddock gate.  
"It's been so clear all the other mornings recently.  Keep clear of 
the borderlands.  The road brigands from Sury like to use the fog
to slip past our sentries.  They can be dangerous.  Stay on the path 
if you're going up to Grais Castle."

     Brandishing  a single javelin of the half score she intended to 
bring with her, Ustreed Hormgrud narrowed her eyes.  "It will take 
more than a little surplus moisture in the air to give any denizen of 
Sury an advantage over me."

     Poul didn't raise his voice to argue; he simply paused and 
looked up from his hammering to give her a challenging look.

     Ustreed rewarded him by hefting the javelin in preparation. 

     Stiffening his upper lip in contemplation, Poul glanced across 
the paddock to a single oaken post set deep in the ground.  Used to 
train horses to make tight turns, the weathered, upright beam was not 
quite six feet tall.  Any one of its flat, square side measured no 
more than four inches wide.  

     Unsderstanding his look, Ustreed mounted Trooper in a single 
smooth motion and settled into place in the saddle.  "Ten yards for a 
target of those dimensions isn't quite a challenge.  Even the 
slimmest of rogues is quite a bit fatter than that post.  Added to 
that the fact it doesn't move and you've got no real challenge.  
Twenty yards from a trot?"

     "Agreed!"

     Leaving the rest of the javelins where they were bound, Ustreed 
goaded Trooper down the length of the paddock.  The spotty mist which 
wafted through the paddock wasn't enough to obscure the target, but 
it did make the estimation of the distance much more difficult.  Once 
at the far end of the enclosure, she waited only long enough for a 
break in the fog before she made her run for the post.

     Poul saw enough to know she wasn't cheating.  Maintaining a safe 
distance, he watched Ustreed's intimidating approach from the far 
end.  Clods of damp dirt churned up under Trooper's hooves.  The lady 
knight levelled the javelin and launched it from the point she 
claimed.  The stabler did not dispute the distance, only to suppose 
it was more than twenty yards--not fewer.  With a harsh whistle, the 
weapon jetted from her outstretched hand, became a blurred line in 
the air and smashed powerfully into the post, splitting the wood.  
Like the beak of a hatching bird, the steel point peeped from the 
rear of the impromptu target.  Ustreed rode past the shivering shaft 
of hard wood, gloating in her victory.  

     "I needed to replace that post anyway."  Poul hopped down from 
the fence and quickly jogged to the cracked oaken beam.  Using all 
his strength, he tried to pull the imbedded javelin from its resting 
place.  He failed on many successive tries.  "I trust you won't need 
a tenth javelin this morning.  I'll have to pry this one out with a 
bar...which is unfortunately elsewhere.  You're a strong one, 
Ustreed, there's no doubt of that."

     "Let the javelin remain where it is.  Dig out the post and keep 
it safe.  Even at my young age, I need to start building a legend.  
Even the Pfalzgrafin demanded I set examples wherever I went.  If all 
goes as I plan, you'll have a piece of real history in your 
possession.  If not, then a conversation piece.  An impressive 
addition to your career as a stabler in any case."

     "So be it.  But don't forget what I said about the borderlands.  
We may be a mile high in the mountains, five days travel from the 
sea, but we're still plagued by pirates!"

     "Don't be naive Poul!  The few desperate rogues who haunt the 
shores of our rivers and tarns don't constitute a threat of piracy!  
What could be worth stealing besides the few nets and boats left out 
by careless fishermen?"

     "A fortune in sunken silver!  Seven lockers of pure sterling 
bars lost overboard when the Cumexian bandits tried to cross 
Kobelthal tarn...only to have the herzog's soldiers waiting on the 
far side.  Rather than lose the silver to Bruellen, they scuttled the 
boat and split up, swimming to safety.  Only a few of the rogues were 
caught.  The rest have been lurking about, looking for a chance to 
reclaim the lockers.  Bruellen has a strict order about going near 
the tarn.  He actually wants the bandits to try to get it back.  And 
when they do, he'll have them for sure."

      Ustreed gazed back with over-sophisticated scorn.  "You expect 
me to believe a brainless story like that, Poul!  A fortune in hidden 
silver...right in our own backyard.  And no one ever talks about it!"

     "With your reaction, it's no wonder why.  The element of 
incredibility does help discourage a lot of  trouble.  The tarn is 
wide and deep.  Even a horde of searchers could spend years on end 
looking for the lockers.  But..."

     "More legends?"

     "The last two winters have been mostly dry.  There haven't been 
the heavy rains in the fall.  The water level of the tarn has dropped 
considerably.  If there is little rain again this year, the level 
will continue to drop..."  Poul gestured with his hand above the 
ground.  It is just possible that if the level descends another 
fathom...the Cumexians may mount an effort to bring it back up.  
After all, we've been seeing more strangers on the roads these days.  
And the pirates may have accomplices in high places.  A fortune like 
that is definitely worth sharing..."

     "Our herzog...as well as I...would never strike such a deal with 
pirates!  It is our practice to destroy and imprison invaders.  This 
is dangerous talk, Poul.  Don't speak of this matter again."  

     Poul withered a little from her cold stare.  "It is the Suryish 
nobles I spoke of, Ustreed.  I have no desire to see our herzog 
corrupted by the lure of wealth."

     "I said no more!"  Ustreed rode back to the fence to pick up her 
javelins.  "I'm going to Grais Castle later his evening.  I shall 
remember what you said here today."

     "You'll also remember I said to be careful of strangers on the 
road....and to avoid the tarn."  Poul recovered some of his composure 
and humbly opened the gate.  "Promise me?"

     "I make no such promise.  There are good points in a soldier 
other than bravery.  Discretion is one of them.  You would be wise to 
keep your mind on running a fine stable and not...on the activities 
of criminals."

     Poul said no more, but shut the gate after Ustreed had gone.

     "It's all right...she's well on her way."

      "Funny...the things you overhear."  Schneer, the junior warden 
of Grais swung open the door of a vacant stall.  "You've done nothing 
wrong, Poul.  If anything, you've conveyed the wishes of the herzog.  
No one is go near that lake.  Especially not soldiers!"
 
     Frowning, Poul remained watchful for anyone else in the 
vicinity.  "Why did you have me tell her that, then?"

     Schneer brushed a spot of dirt from his pantleg.  "Curiosity and 
trouble-making are the province of the female, Poul.  I might have 
had her position, but the Pfalzgrafin seems to be a little prejudiced 
towards men.  If Ustreed Hormgrud is to be our next castellan at 
Grais...or fate forbid, our herzogin, she needs to demonstrate the 
quality of self-restraint. If she stays away from the tarn and keeps 
her knowledge of the treasure secret...then no harm is done."

     Poul brightened.  "I suppose not.  But what if she stirs up 
trouble.  What if she informs on me.  What if she...should suffer?"

     "All soldiers are expected to suffer, Poul.  Me, her, the 
herzog.  And you needn't fear about her informing on you.  The 
pirates history in Crenholtz is far more common than you'd imagine.  
You're scaring yourself.  Now, on the other hand...if the pirates 
make their move in the near future...the cleverer ones among us will 
be an excellent position to make the best of a...potentially 
unpleasant situation."  

     Schneer strode over to the post where Ustreed had hurled the 
javelin.

     "She's made her mark...I must simply make mine higher than 
hers!"  The junior warden
smiled a foxy smile.  His quick wit made him almost too crafty to fit 
the heroic image of the burly Crenish soldier.  "Make no mistake.  
The building of a future requires more than physical exertion.  It 
demands thought.  If Ustreed Hormgrud will not suffer me as her 
rival, then she will tolerate me as her partner...silent or not."

     "And if she should be killed?!"  Poul found stomach enough to 
take the side of
courage.

     "Then again, the childish rivalry will be no more..."

     End of Part Seven.
     To be Continued.