Conan the Defender (Robert Jordan's Conan Novels 2)

“Be quiet, Stephano,” Ariane said, but she studied the Cimmerian’s face without speaking further.

“I am not civilized enough,” Conan told her softly, “to betray my friends.”

She nodded shakily. Stephano tried to cut her off, but she ignored him. “Taras hires warriors. He says that we need at least a thousand, but he will soon have that many. Our strength, though, is the people. Their anger is so great now, and their hunger, that they would pull Garian down with their bare hands, could they. Some know they will receive weapons. Others will follow. We have weapons for ten thousand, weapons smuggled across the border. Some no doubt by your friend, Hordo.”

“Ten thousand?” Conan said, remembering Hordo’s estimate of five.

“Ten,” Graecus said. “I’ve seen them. Taras showed me a storehouse full.”

And let him count them, too, Conan thought drily. “It takes a great deal of gold to arm ten thousand, even poorly. And more to hire a thousand already armed. You provided this gold?”

“Some part of it, yes,” Ariane said defensively. “But, as you know, we earn no great amounts, and most of what we have from our … our other sources goes to this inn.”

“There are some,” Stephano said loftily, “who despite their wealth believe that we are right and Garian will destroy Nemedia. They furnish Taras with what is needed to acquire arms and men.”

“Who are they?” Conan asked. “Will they support you openly, put their names behind you once you take to the streets?”

“Of course,” Stephano said, but almost immediately his loftiness fell into uncertainty. “That is, I suppose they will. You see, they prefer to remain anonymous.” He laughed shakily. “Why, not even any of us here has ever seen them. Their money goes directly to Taras.”

“What Stephano means,” Ariane said as the sculptor sank into silence, “is that they’re affrighted we will fail, and fear to find themselves upon the headsman’s block. ’Tis likely they think to manipulate us, and the revolution, to increase their own wealth and position. But if they do, they forget that we command the people. And a thousand armed men.”

A thousand armed men who had taken gold from these mysterious benefactors, Conan thought wearily. “But what is your plan? Not just to rush into the streets handing swords out to the people?”

Graecus smiled broadly. “We are not such fools as you might think us, Conan. Those of us who distribute the bread in Hellgate have found men who can be trusted, marked out those who will follow when the word is given. These will receive the weapons. We will lead them to surround the Royal Palace, while Taras takes the thousand to seize the city gates and lay seige to the City Guard in their barracks.”

“What of the Free-Companies, and the bodyguards?” Conan asked. “There must be three thousand such in the city, and those who have paid them will most certainly support the king.”

“Yes,” Ariane said, “but each will also keep his bodyguard close about him till he sees what happens. We can ignore them. If necessary, they can be rooted out later, one by one. A Free-Company of a hundred may be overrun by a thousand from the gutter to whom death is no more than an escape from hunger.”

She looked ready to lead such an assault herself, small head erect, shoulders back out-thrusting her breasts to strain the fabric of her shift, eyes alight with hazel fire. Conan knew her words were true. Men who welcomed death were fearsome opponents in the assault, though more easily dealt with in the long campaign. Whatever the outcome of this meeting, he must keep his company ready to move at all times with no more than an instant’s warning.

What he said, though, was, “What of the army?”

It was Graecus again who answered. “The closest troops are a thousand at Heranium and two at Jeraculum. They would take five days to reach Belverus, once they have been commanded to march, but will be too few to do anything to effect while we hold the city gates. As to the forces on the Aquilonian border, they will still have to decide to abandon the border, worrying all the while of what Aquilonia will do.”

“Ten days’ march from the border for a sizeable force,” Conan said thoughtfully. “Two days hard riding for a message to get there. So you can count on twelve days before you must face seige machinery and soldiers in numbers to assault the city walls. Perhaps it will be longer, but ’tis best to count on no more.”

“You have an eye for such things,” Graecus said approvingly. “We plan based on twelve days.”

“And will have no need for them,” Stephano pronounced with a dismissing wave of his hand. “Long before then, t

he downtrodden of the city will have risen to join us. A hundred thousand men will line the walls of the city, shoulder to shoulder. We will have called on Garian to abdicate—”

“Abdicate!” Conan shouted. The others started, staring at the walls as if they could see them listening. He went on in a lower tone. “You raise a rebellion, then call on Garian to abdicate? ’Tis madness. The Golden Leopards could hold the Royal Palace for half a year of siege, perhaps more. You have twelve days.”

“’Tis none of my idea,” Ariane said disgustedly. “From the first have I said we must sweep over the Palace in the first hour.”

“And slaughter everyone there!” Stephano said. “Then we are no better than Garian, our beliefs and ideals so much rhetoric.”

“I do not remember,” Graecus said slowly, “who it was first suggested we demand that Garian abdicate. On first thought, perhaps it seems best to do as Ariane wishes, attack the Palace while the Golden Leopards yet believe it is no more than another disturbance in the streets. But we cannot totally abandon the very ideals for which we fight. Besides,” he finished with a smile, as if he had found the solution, “it is well known that the hill on which the Royal Palace sits is riddled with a hundred passages, any one of which will take us inside its defenses.”

“Everyone may know of these passages,” Ariane said, her voice dripping acid, “but do you know where to find one of them? Just one?”

“We could dig,” the stocky man suggested weakly. Ariane snorted, and he subsided.

Conan shook his head. “Garian will not abdicate. No king would. You will but waste time you do not have to waste.”

“If he will not abdicate,” Stephano said, “then the people will storm the Royal Palace and tear him to pieces with their bare hands for his crimes against them.”