Conrad Starguard - The Radiant Warrior Part 1

The Radiant Warrior.

Adventures of Conrad Starguard.

By Leo Frankowski.

Prologue.

She unloaded the temporal canister, glanced quickly at her new subordinate, loaded it with her last superior, and sent it two and a half million years uptime. One contact every fifty years and that for only a few seconds. Life this far back was a b.i.t.c.h.

The new arrival was biosculpted into a male version of herself, a type twenty-seven protohuman. He was barely four feet tall, skinny and with dark brown skin. He was also naked, since clothing wouldn't be invented for millions of years.

She switched off his stasis field.

He looked up at the stalact.i.tes hanging above him from the cave roof. Confused, he looked over at her.

"Surprise! You son of a b.i.t.c.h!" she shouted. "Welcome to two and a half million B.C.! Welcome to a hundred years of dodging leopards and eating grubs and s.h.i.+vering up in a tree all night, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d, because it's all your fault!"

"What? Where am I?"

"The where is eastern Africa, you lucky boy, but the fun part is the when! You're in the Anthropological Corps now and you get to do the exciting work of tracking protohuman migration patterns!"

"This must be some sort of a joke! And you are the rudest and the ugliest woman I've ever seen!"

"Watch your language, buster! I'm your boss and will be for the next fifty years. And if you think I'm ugly, just wait until you see yourself in a mirror, not that we have one."

"What is going on here? None of this makes sense! I was in twentieth-century Poland, doing my paperwork, when the monitors came in and I woke up here. And I look like you?"

"Yeah, minus the floppy t.i.ts, ugly."

"But ... why?"

"Your file says it's a punishment detail for gross incompetence. You completely failed to brief a new subordinate on security procedures! She left the wrong door open. And the Owner's own cousin, who had never heard of time travel, got transported back to Poland's thirteenth century, ten years before the Mongol invasions. Then the Owner himself found his cousin in the battle lines during the invasion. The man had been there for ten years before he was discovered! There was nothing they could do about it without violating causality. When you screw up, you don't fart around!"

"But ... without notification, without trial?"

"You mess with the Owner's family, you're in deep s.h.i.+t, boy!"

"Well ... what are you doing here, then?"

"You don't recognize me? I suppose I should be crushed, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d, but I'm not. I'm the woman that you failed to brief, you s.h.i.+thead! I've been in this lousy pest hole for fifty years because of you, and now I've got fifty more to get you back for it!"

"Surely, madam, there's no reason to be vindictive about it. After all, if we're both in the same boat-"

"A boat wouldn't be this bad, b.a.s.t.a.r.d! We are in the middle of a b.l.o.o.d.y wilderness with nothing to eat but carrion and grubs! There's nothing to do but wander around after a tribe with less brains than a bunch of morons, and n.o.body to talk to that has a vocabulary of over forty words except each other."

"h.e.l.l yes, I'm vindictive! And I'm going to stay that way for the next fifty years!"

He rolled over and groaned.

She looked at him. "Well, in fifty years, my replacement will be the dolt at the thirteenth-century portal who should have caught your screw-up. Then you get to be his boss. It gives you something to look forward to." He groaned again.

Chapter One.

FROM THE DIARY OF PIOTR KULCZYNSKI.

My name is Piotr Kulczynski. I am an accountant. I was taught my craft by the lord I serve, Sir Conrad Stargard.

He is a good lord, and well loved by his people, for he is a giant in mind, body, and soul.

His learning is renowned above that of all other men, and scarce half a day pa.s.ses when he does not create some useful device or demonstrate some new technique or sing some new song. He has built great mills and efficient factories for his lord Count Lambert and on his own lands, gifted to him by that count, he has thrown up huge buildings in but a few months. Our Church of Christ the Carpenter at Three Walls is reputed to be the biggest in Poland. Sir Conrad says that soon we will be making iron and steel in vast quant.i.ties, as well as a sort of mortar called cement.

He is vastly tall, and must bend his head to pa.s.s through any normal doorway. For his buildings at Three Walls, he decreed that the doors be tall enough to let him pa.s.s with his helmet on. He claims that the next generation of children will be, some of them, as tall as he, because they will be eating properly. The carpenters built as he required, but they laughed that any children of his size must be of his get.

His prowess in battle is above that of all others, and but three days agone he defeated one of the greatest champions in Poland, the Crossman Sir Adolf, in Trial by Combat. He not only destroyed that Knight of the Cross easily, he actually played with the man while he did it, first throwing away his s.h.i.+eld and then his sword, winning the fight with his bare hands to show that G.o.d was truly on his side.

And he is a saintly man, kind to those in need and always ready to help the poor, the aged, the oppressed.

The very Trial I mentioned was caused when, out of pity for a gross of Pruthenian slaves, he beat seven Crossmen in fair combat, killing five and wounding a sixth almost to the death, then saving that man's life with his surgical skill. He met that caravan of slaves when he was traveling a great distance to ransom a casual acquaintance with a vast sum, to keep that man from being hung.

And he has been blessed by G.o.d. At the Trial, after he had defeated his opponent so easily, he was foully attacked by four other Crossmen. With my own eyes, I saw four golden arrows fall from the sky, killing the. men who would have harmed the Lord's Anointed.

Yet he is my enemy.

Never would I do harm to my lord, nor even think evil of him, for evil is far from all his words and deeds.

But since I was a small child I have loved Krystyana.

Before I dared profess my love to her, she was chosen by Count Lambert to be one of his ladies-in-waiting.

I could do nothing while she warmed Count Lambert's bed, and those of his knights, for she went to this task willingly. Yet I was consoled, for it is the custom of that lord, once one of his ladies was with child, to marry her to one of the commoners of his village. My father promised to talk to Count Lambert and to Krystyana's parents when the time was right, and I thought that one day within the year I would have my love by my side.

But then Sir Conrad came to Okoitz. He came from someplace to the east, though from exactly where is a mystery, for a priest laid a geas on him that he may not speak of his origins.

I was among those to whom he taught mathematics, and he paid the priest to teach us our letters. He gave me a responsible position, keeping the books of his inn, his bra.s.s works, and now the city he was building at Three Walls. This made me a man of some substance, which bolstered my claim to Krystyana's hand.

Then Count Lambert sent my love, along with four others, with Sir Conrad to the vast lands awarded him.

Sir Conrad gave all five ladies positions of considerable importance, and it is his custom that no woman may be forced into marriage, nor even strongly encouraged, but that each may marry the man of her own choosing, or even not marry at all.

My love Krystyana has never looked kindly on me. Even when our positions force us to work together-for she manages the kitchens that feed Sir Conrad's nine hundred people, and I must account for every penny spent-she treats me coldly.

Long have I been convinced that could she but lay by my side for a single night, her love would come to me. Yet I see no way that this could happen.

Today at Count Lambert's town of Okoitz, Annastas.h.i.+a-one of Sir Conrad's five ladies-was married to that fine young knight Sir Vladimir. It was a beautiful ceremony, with Sir Conrad giving the bride away and all the ladies crying. But Krystyana's thoughts were plain on her face, and I knew that she would not be content to marry anyone less than a true belted knight, and that knight, Sir Conrad.

So I wait while hope dwindles.

FROM THE DIARY OF CONRAD SCHWARTZ.

The evening after my Trial by Combat, I was annoyed to discover that my loyal carpenters were so convinced that I would lose and be killed that they had made a beautiful coffin for me, and that my loving masons had cut me a fine tombstone. Now they wanted me to tell them what to do with the d.a.m.n things! I ranted for a while about their lack of faith. Then I rejected my first three thoughts about where these things should be stuffed, deciding that the man who had lost the fight didn't deserve any special favors from me.

The coffin was really a nicely carved rectangular chest, without anything overtly morbid about it, so I told them to carry it back to Three Walls. I'd use it for storing clothes.

We threw away the stone, and much later I found it used as an outdoor table, with my name still carved on it. I should have smashed the d.a.m.n thing.

I was also miffed to discover that most of my workers had bet against me when I fought Sir Adolf. One of them explained that it was the sensible thing to do. After all, if I won, they knew that their futures were secure, but if I lost, they would each need every penny just to survive! It still left a bad taste in my mouth.

I was able to talk to the Bishop of Wroclaw just before he returned to his cathedral. He was actually in the saddle when he granted me an audience.

"Your excellency, I now have a city of over nine hundred souls without a full-time priest. But I don't want just any priest. I want a man who is capable of running an entire school system. Is it possible for me to get such a scholar?"

"That's interesting, my son, for not three days ago I got a letter from an excellent young scholar looking for just such a position. I shall write him immediately on my return to Wroclaw. Yes. It will be nice having an intelligent Italian in the diocese."

He gave me his ring to kiss, and rode off before I could reply. I had to wait for someone to come all the way from Italy? That could take a year!

Sir Stefan and his father, the baron, were leaving at the same time. There was a lot of bad blood between us, starting last winter over a disagreement about working hours. Since then, a number of other things had caused friction between us, and the man had become my avowed enemy. Everything I did seemed to fan his hatred, and I had just about given up trying to get him off my back. As he left, he bit his thumb at me in insult.

"It's not over, Conrad!" he shouted.

Christmas at Okoitz was as raucous as it had been the year before. With my people there as well as Count Lambert's and the workers from the cloth mill, the church was no longer big enough to hold us all. They cleared the dyeing vats, was.h.i.+ng tubs, and other equipment out of the first floor of the cloth factory, and we held the affair there.

Along with Count Lambert and myself, Sir Vladimir, his two brothers, two of his sisters and all of their husbands and wives, plus his parents sat at the high table along with the priest and the priest's beautiful wife. Added to these were my four remaining ladies and Count Lambert's current six (he was trying to cut down). Thus twenty-four n.o.bles were available for the peasants and workers to take out a year's aggressions on. You'd think that the pranks would have been spread around a bit more, but Count Lambert and I still caught the brunt of it.

At least this year I knew what to expect, and could psych myself up to play the clown before I had to do it.

They selected a King of Misrule by pa.s.sing out bread rolls with a bean in one of them. As luck would have it, the bean came to one of my topmen, the men who climbed to the tops of the huge trees to cut them off so that the trees could be felled. The topmen were all extroverted Yahoos, and I had not been polite to them lately.

The Queen of Misrule fell to one of the clothworkers, a remarkably attractive young woman who at least looked the part.

I won't bore you with the buffoonery that went on. Count Lambert and I left as soon as possible and retired to his chambers.

"Gad! I swear it gets worse every year!" Count Lambert said as he took off the yard-long codpiece he had been forced to wear. He filled two silver goblets from the silver pitcher on the sideboard and handed one to me.

"I can't see how next year could possibly get rowdier, my lord." I took off the pointed wizard's hat I'd been given and took a long pull. The drink was what I needed, though in fact it was wretched stuff. The lack of gla.s.s bottles and decent corks ruined medieval wine pretty quick. Most of it was drunk in the year after the grapes were squeezed, and n.o.body ever considered recording the vintage; wine didn't last long enough to age.

"Just wait. On some matters a peasant can be very creative. But there's nothing to be done. Custom is custom." He sat down on a chest next to a table and motioned me to the one opposite. A chessboard was already set up.

"Still, my lord, it marks the end of quite a year." I picked up a p.a.w.n from each side, shook them in my cupped hands and concealed one in each fist, offering them to him.

"It has been that. Think! A year ago today was the first time I'd met you. One might say it's our anniversary. A year ago yesterday you killed that brigand, Sir Rheinburg, who had been infesting my lands and killing my people. And three days ago you killed Sir Adolf right here on my tourney field. Counting your battle with the Crossmen on my trail, that makes three fights in one year!" He had chosen black and was moving his pieces out in the Dragon variation that I had made the mistake of showing him.

"More than that, my lord, depending on what you call a fight. By the time I got here, I had been involved in four separate acts of violence." There wasn't much I could do about his opening but make the standard replies.

Seeing his eyebrow raise at "four," I said, "There was my first run-in with Sir Adolf where he bashed me in the head. Then one night on the river at Cracow, Tadaos the boatman killed three thieves who were trying to murder him. You know about the irate creditor on your trail, and the fight with Sir Rheinburg's band of hoodlums. The fight with the wh.o.r.emasters' guild in Cieszyn took out three of the thugs, and against those child molesters, Sir Vladimir and I killed or maimed six out of the seven Crossmen."

"I guess I can't count the incident at the ferry at Cracow last summer, since it started when I got a rock on the side of my head and it was over before I got my wits back. The rabies victim wasn't a fight. He had me so scared that I killed him out of fright. It was simple murder." The opening was over, and Count Lambert was moving from a Sicilian defense into a strong center position.

"That last thing you mentioned, this 'rabies victim,' was a vampire. They must be killed. You did right, Sir Conrad. But think, in about a year you have been in what?-say ten bits of action. You forgot your brawl with Sir Stefan. Do you realize that I haven't had the chance to draw my sword in earnest in four years?

And I must spend a third of my time on the road."

"True, my lord, but you always travel in the company of a dozen armored knights." Now what the devil was I going to do about that d.a.m.n bishop?

"Dog's blood, but you're right! From now on I'll travel in simple garb and I'll travel alone! Let the rest follow an hour behind! That ought to get some action going."

"My lord, I was just talking idly, trying to get your mind off your chess. I never meant to get you killed!" I was being forced into the comers where I couldn't maneuver.

"Well, d.a.m.n the chess! I know! I'll fill two saddlebags with silver, and try to hide the fact. Word will spread like a covey of scared rabbits!" He took my queen's bishop.

"Please, my lord. Your life is important to me." I slaughtered his knight in return.

"Well, thank you. A touching sentiment. But a man must keep his hand in, musn't he?" He took my knight with his p.a.w.n! Now why the h.e.l.l? ... Oh no!

It was best not to let this run too long. "You never told me how your beehives were doing, my lord." I castled, but I knew it was too late.

"What? Oh, wonderful! Twenty-nine of your hives caught themselves bees. We only harvested six of them, but think! From what you said, that means there must be twenty-nine wild hives out there. Add that to the twenty-three I left, and that means fifty-two new hives next year, for a total of seventy-five! And every man of mine will have at least a gross of hives next summer! In a few years, we'll have honey pouring out of our noses!" He continued his merciless attack.

That last simile bothered me because like most engineers, my mental imagery is entirely too graphic. I see things while people are talking. The image formed was of honey coming out of Count Lambert's nose and being licked up as soon as it filtered through his thick moustache. Sometimes I wish I was a dull person.

"I wish my own had done as well. By the time I got to my lands last summer, it was a bit late in the season.

My gross of beehives only got me eight colonies." I made a try at forking his king and rook, but he saw it and blocked.

"A pity! Shall I harvest one more of mine and send it to you?" He pushed an innocent-looking p.a.w.n.

"Thank you, my lord, but no. You know my customs. I always eat the same as my workers. Split between nine hundred people, the harvest of one hive would come to about one honey cake each. In a few years, we'll have enough to make mead." I was forced to trade a bishop for two p.a.w.ns.

"Mead! I've heard of that. My grandfather was said to have loved it. But who could afford to drink it now, honey being as rare as it is? I doubt if anyone still knows the way of making it. Do you know?" He took my queen's rook, hardly glancing at the board.

"It happens that I've made several barrels of the stuff. It's simple enough, and in truth, my lord, it was better than what we're drinking. I'll show your people how when the time comes."

In modem Poland, the making of alcohol in any form is illegal without a state license. In America, where I went to college, any adult may make wine or beer, up to two hundred gallons a year, which is a lot. One of my dorm brothers was over twenty-one, and-purely in the interest of studying ancient technology-we had produced seven plastic garbage containers of the stuff, mead being the cheapest palatable drink that is easily made. I recall that it was under two dollars a gallon, buying honey wholesale and making mead of twelve percent alcohol.

"Sir Conrad, I know that I have said this too many times before, and that you have always proved me wrong. But what if you should die? What if no one else remembers how to make it?"

My position was untenable. I saw a forced mate in five moves, and Count Lambert would probably see a shorter one. I tipped my king over, acknowledging defeat. Count Lambert started to reset the board for another game, turning the board so that I would play black.