Oarsman of the Princess

By Lee Willard

No matter which prince her father chose for her, the others promised war so he believed the only way to keep the peace was to marry her off to a bishop of Karasis, whom all princes would have to respect, not only because of their religious faith, but because of the might of the vast republic at the western end of the canal. The one she preferred had far too small an army so that sending her to him would certainly cause his death.

My duty was to row the princess fifty one miles to the great Temple in Yuhal, far to the west on the ancient canal. There would be nineteen of us, including guards and domestics, on the grandest barge the canal had ever seen. I felt the honor at being one of those chosen, but also the dread because five miles of our row was thru the land of one of the princes vying for her and thirty one miles thru the lawless wilds of the Aitol where we were not even sure the canal is navigable. We had only four warriors with us, far too few, I thought, to brave the savage tribes of the Aitol even if all we carried was bulk cargo.

This story happens in 951bc., long before the Instinct when violence was possible. This is probably the most violent story in the Lee Willard collection, though there have been many larger wars on Kassidor. This story is really about the stupidity of war.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lee Willard
• Release date: Apr 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005968212

Lee Willard

I am a retired embedded systems engineer and sci-fi hobbyist from Hartford. Most of my stories concern Kassidor, 'The planet the hippies came from' which I have used to examine subjects like: What would it take to make the hippy lifestyle real? How would extended lifespans affect society? What could happen if we outlive our memories? How can murder be committed when violence is impossible?I have recently discovered that someone new to science fiction should start their exploration of Kassidor with the Second Expedition trilogy. To the mainstream fiction reader the alien names of people, places and things can be confusing. This series has a little more explanation of the differences between Kassidor and Earth. In all of the Kassidor stories you will notice the people do not act like ordinary humans but like flower children from the 60's. It is not until Zhlindu that the actual modifications made to human nature to make them act that way are spelled out. To aide that understanding I've made The Second Expedition free.I am not a fan of violence and dystopia. I believe that sci-fi does not just predict the future, but helps create the future because we sci-fi writers show our readers what the future will be and the readers go out and create it. I believe that the current fad of constant dystopia and mega-violence in sci-fi today is helping to create that world, and I mention that often in reviews and comments on the books I read. I also believe that the characters in those stories who are completely free of any affection are at least as unnatural as the modified humans of Kassidor.In my reviews, * = couldn't finish it. ** = Don't bother with it. *** = good story worth reading. **** = great and memorable story. ***** = Worth a Hugo.

Book preview

Oarsman

Of

The

Princess

Smashwords edition Copyright 2021 Lee Willard.

The following is a work of fiction, any resemblances to any real people, places, things or excuses for going to war are purely coincidental.

The planet Kassidor at 61 Cygni and the premise that the social changes of the 1960’s originated there is a creation of Lee Willard.

This is dedicated to the Swordmistress of Farmsea for the inspiration.

In this translation of ‘Po’ the honorific in the dialect of pre-ydlon spoken in this time and place has been generally translated as ‘your highness’. At times it may be ‘sir’ or ‘madam’ but the word ‘Po’ was reserved exclusively for royalty, the rulers and their close family, and not just any person of higher status.

Oarsman of the Princess

She was the pride of the principate, and getting her to her betrothed in the Temple was of vital importance. Three heirs of the caravan masters sought her and to each of them it was important that she didn’t make it to the Bishop of the Sixth Tenet. For many reasons the lands of the Caravan Masters were a powder keg and the hymen of the most beautiful princess of her generation could be the spark to set it off.

My duty was to row her fifty one miles to the great Temple in Yuhal, far to the west on the ancient canal. There would be nineteen of us, including guards and domestics, on the grandest barge the canal had ever seen. I felt the honor at being one of those chosen, but also the dread because five miles of our row was thru the land of one of the princes vying for her and thirty one miles thru the lawless wilds of the Aitol where we were not even sure the canal is navigable.

1. On Third Cynd

2. Oarsman

3. Ptondrin Palace

4. Before Khanitone

5. Pestra's Plans

6. Into the Aitol

7. A Bishop's Trials

8. The Loss of the Princess

9. Captive Slave Girl

10. Rescue Mission

11. The Fog of Missed Battles

12. The Fog of Battle

13. The Fog After Battle

14. Dawn in Aitol

15. Family Ties

16. Noon in Aitol

17. On the Barge

18. The Hens'nAtics

19. Dark Alliance

20. Ekervaik Bridge

21. Last Orders

22. In Yuhal

23. Military Action

24. Vemnya and Ishthoeneg

25. In My Grasp

26. Before the Bishop

1. On Third Cynd

Iynambi finally lay down for bed. Her chambermaids curtsied their way out of her room, leaving only her father Nextrus, heir to Caravan master Kustun and Prince of Orazig, in the room with her. She was exhausted, Cynd had passed Nixitombuur this Nightday so with the dawn, she would be three decades, recognized as adult at last. With the dawn she would begin her journey to the great Temple at Yuhal and her marriage to an aging bishop.

The celebration of her coming of age had begun with Nightday lunch and lasted til fortieth hour. Since darkmeal she been on her feet, dancing with every male the prince was beholding to. The most tiring part of all was the watchful eyes of the grannies, making sure she remained chaste til the bishop claimed her.

Her hymen was probably the biggest political prize in the lands of Karasis these days, and bearing it was tiring. She’d been blessed with a perfect figure, flawless skin and even color so even if she thought her features were a little heavy, there was no body in any royal line like hers in this generation. You really must be tired, her father said as she curled up, you’re not whining about your betrothal.

At least I’ll get this weight out of my vitals, she said about her virginity.

I’m sorry, if I could have given you to anyone else without precipitating war, you know I would. I care about your happiness.

I can’t believe anyone would really go to war over me.

If I had three daughters as beautiful as you, probably not, but without, and with three powerful princes vying for you, he didn’t count her first choice as powerful, I just can’t chance it. I value your happiness like nothing else, and were you not royalty, I’d give you to the suitor of your choice, of course I would.

She wouldn’t say it was not her beauty but her ripeness that made the princes vie for her. She also knew there was more to the political situation than her figure, there were disputes over water usage and maintenance of the canal. There was also military strategy, With you and Teddahike you have Inepen sandwiched, he can’t fight you on two fronts, she’d argued this with him since she finished her tutelage over twenty years ago. Teddahike and Exanthii were not her first choice. He was already twelve, though he was still a mighty man in spite of the craggy face and bushy brows and the grey at his temples. Exanthii was ancient, built in the first age like all the old principates, its peasants were poor and primitive. Teddahike was not as generous a ruler as Nextrus or Tzeken.

I will not send hundreds of men to their deaths, her father said.

It won’t come to that, she said, he’ll see that he’s beaten and back down.

Never. Resistance will just make him more determined.

Yes, she sighed, you’re probably right. Inepen was a harsher ruler than Teddahike by far, that was part of what repelled her. He would know his adversaries had no stomach for war while he could conscript and sacrifice a thousand men without a trace of remorse. He was a strong man for sure, and five decades of age, but short-tempered and disfigured by a sword stroke that nearly cost him an eye.

You get some sleep, her father said and stroked her back, you’ve got another big day tomorrow.

The new week dawned warm and humid. The city of Orazig surrounds the palace, which stands at the end of the dam that holds back the canal. Three water wheels meter out the irrigation water on that dam and turn the millstones of the city’s granaries. At the top of the dam was the harbor, where the canal widened to three hundred yards. The sun slanted in from the east, nearly horizontal at this early hour.

Her barge awaited her in the harbor. The nearby quays had been cleared and thousands had turned out in their finest to see the princess off. Her father’s troops in their maroon finery and feathered hats stood in a double row lining her path to the barge. She was expected to show regal bearing as she strode from the carriage to the barge between the lines of troops in their finery, but probably only looked frozen with fear.

The barge itself was the crowning glory of Orazig’s navy. Each hull started as a huge enra tree, one that had somehow developed just the right curve to make a bow, a hundred feet above the ground. Each hull had been painstakingly carved out til it was less than an inch thick. They were connected with coachwood rails, and a twenty foot wide and sixty foot long platform built between the hulls. On that were set the luxurious tents of the princess and her staff with an aisle down each side.

In each hull, her oarsmen stood, ten big bulls of men with strong backs, arms and thighs, many with thick beards and none over ten decades of age.

Her guards, the four chosen to accompany her on this journey, were the most trusted men Nextrus had. Each was a finalist in archery, swordsmanship and survival. Each was sworn to give his life for hers. They greeted her as she stepped off the gangplank and onto the deck.

Imuda was the most physically imposing. His jaw was strong, his brows hooded, his teeth big and white. His muscles were the talk of the principate and balladeers wrote lyrics to their power. He was the least personable of them all however, and when she needed a protector she preferred him only in the most dangerous of situations.

Tormidru was the best looking. He was still a powerful man, if third in strength of the group, but smoother than the others and still in his third decade himself. He was the best archer of the four. His father had been a renowned captain in her father’s service who had been killed in a skirmish with Ptondrin while she was two and twenty one. His very presence stirred her juices, even though he was not of royal blood. She had to hide that of course, but was loath to cloak her body so thickly in the heat of noon and he would be close enough to her at times.

Tuutamaiya was the best swordsman in the land. His hair was the color of old wood, the lightest on the barge. Some said a Nordic slipped into his bloodline somewhere. She was educated and knew there were Nordics only a few years by caravan to the south. They were savage, living in caves and rock-piles and surviving the cold of dark in their highlands with big fires and strong drink. Tuutamaiya liked his drink also, but only when permitted and never to the point of belligerence, only to the point of telling tales and laughing easily. He was in his fifth decade already, and would be retired from the guard when it ended if a captain’s post couldn’t be found for him. She doubted one would.

Ylixa was wiry and fast, deadly with a rapier, as agile as a nyobba and at least as cunning. He was the most formal with her as he was with everyone. He was serious about his training and serious about his assignments.

In entourage on the barge would be her chambermaids, a cook and porter who would also do duty as huntsman. Her own space was the central third of the tented space, higher than the rest, with more tapestry and embellishment. Four more porters would be remaining behind, but they carried her wardrobe for the journey in two large chests that they put on each side of her bed. The bed was canopied and screened like hers in the palace, but much more lightweight and without the scroll work and gilding.

When she was two, she was enthusiastic about being a princess, proud of the attention as the most desirable royal woman of her generation. By the time she was two and twenty, and her pertinent features were already as they are today, she had met every prince in the world of Karasis between two and a half and twelve decades of age. She tried to be polite with all of them, it was expected of her. She was taking their measure as she did, as they were taking hers.

The one she wanted was Tzeken, prince of Tyi. It was a more recent land, founded in the fourth age. It was free of the ruins of the ancients, on a bluff of its own a day’s ride to the north, even closer to the onionlands. It was a small principate in population but vast in area, as well as distant. Reaching it was an overland journey, for Tyi was not on the canal. Like the principates of the second age, Tyi had no caravan master at the pinnacle of its lineage, but the others were on the canal because they’d all been part of Hest’s great empire in the second age. Because Tyi had not been part of that ancient empire, some claimed their rulers weren’t really royalty.

If she was plainer, she could have selected Tzeken, her father would have made the arrangements, it wouldn’t be a political issue and there would have been little fanfare. If she was plainer, such a beautiful man as he would never apply to be her suitor. Tyi was different, a prince wasn’t disowned if he took a common wife, in fact there had been several and they were some of the greatest queens in its history. He would never take a plain wife, he knew beauty was a sign of strength, and she had strength to go with her beauty.

She longed to see the children she could bear him. She also longed to be in a distant land where all the petty politics that marred the worlds of the canal and caravan masters were far away. Her children would learn that a ruler’s strength comes from his people, not from his arms.

Because of those politics, she was being sent to the Temple, the one thing no prince dared oppose. There she would wed a man already in his fifteenth decade, a man she feared might not be able to pierce her hymen for it was as strong as everything else about her. Even so, she was likely to be five or ten by the time he died, because the Temple has retained secrets from the days of old and some bishops have lived into their twenty third decade. By thirteen she would be too old to bear children by any man and hardly attractive enough to interest the slaughterhouse gutsman.

There was a groan of big horns as they cast off. The oarsmen showed off their synchronization as the captain began thumping his tuumbei. The oarsmen trained to the signals of that hand drum, and their captain, Duruud was a forceful hand on it.

There was a bedlam of cheering as they pulled away from the dock, almost drowning out the beat in spite of Duruud’s heavy hand. The adolescent she was at two and twenty would have been over the top with glee over the grand celebrations. The adult she was now did not take much pride in this, but rather dread over the voyage she was undertaking.

The initial canal, from Khanitone to Exanthii was built in the first age. Most of the canal had been built in the second age, but was dry from the start of the third age, til the middle of the fourth when the Temple and the republic of Yuhal had undertaken the project to rebuild it. All the old principates had been ‘not until you do’ing