Swords and Saddles Page 9

  As the cavalry lines approached the city, they rode through the empty tent camp of the former besiegers, who were still visible in the distance but running for all they were worth. On the walls of the city, defenders were waving swords, spears and axes over their heads and cheering. “Company B, halt! I guess we’d better find out who these people are and where we are, sergeant. Lieutenant Garret, hold the company here while the sergeant and I go parley.”

  Benton rode toward the walls, Sergeant Tyndall on his horse just behind. Spotting a cluster of figures near some blue banners embroidered with many-pointed stars, Benton headed that way, assuming they would be the leaders of the defenders. Holding up his right palm again, Benton checked his horse just under the walls. Still skittish from the battle, his horse danced sideways as more cheers erupted from overhead.

  Looking upward, Benton called out. “I am Captain Ulysses Benton, United States Cavalry. I wish to speak to your commanding officer, leader or chieftain.”

  A babble of noise broke out above in which Benton couldn’t make out a single familiar word, though some of the words teased at him in the way of sounds which share the same root as a word in a known language. Then the shouts died down rapidly as one of the defenders stood up on the rampart, gazing down a good twenty feet at Benton. This person wore a chain-mail shirt, with more mail forming a hauberk around the neck, what appeared to be leather trousers, and heavy leather boots which came up to the knee, almost meeting the mail shirt where it hung down. The chain mail was torn in several places where the blows of swords or axes had struck home. On the defender’s head, a bright helm topped with a white horse hair plume shone in the sun. Raising one hand to mimic Benton’s gesture, the defender called down a long sentence, not one word of which Benton could understand.

  But that wasn’t why he stared up, momentarily shocked into silence. The leader of the defenders, face streaked with sweat and dust, sword still wet with blood, had spoken in the unmistakable voice of a woman.

  All right, then. The leader of the city was a woman. Compared to the disappearances of Fort Harker and Ellsworth, that was a relatively easy thing to accept.

  Behind Benton, Sergeant Tyndall made a baffled sound. The captain turned in the saddle, facing the sergeant. “Did you recognize anything she said?”

  “Sir…cap’n…that’s a woman!”

  “It seems so, sergeant, now tell me if you recognized her language. Is it in any way related to Cheyenne or Arapaho?” He already thought he knew the answer. It hadn’t sounded a bit like a plains tribe language. If anything, some of the words had sounded vaguely European.

  “No, sir.” Tyndall shook his head. “Not them, and not Sioux or Pawnee. I’ve talked to some of the civilized tribes down south, Cherokee, Choctaw and the like, and it didn’t sound like none of them, neither.”

  “I think I’d recognize Shoshone,” Benton said. “It’s not Crow, either. Did it sound a little Spanish?”

  “Maybe a little, sir,” Sergeant Tyndall agreed. “But it’s not.” He scrunched up his face. “And I ain’t never seen a senorita like that, cap’n.”

  Looking closely, Benton could now make out the feminine features under the helm. Unless he was mistaken, as many as half of the other defenders might be women as well. “Amazons. In Kansas. Maybe that’s Greek they’re speaking.” The idea was absurd, but no more so than what he was seeing. “Lieutenant Garret!”

  Garret rode up, saluting.

  “You know some Greek, don’t you?”

  “Classical Greek, yes, sir. From Homer. Just a little.”

  Benton gestured upward. “Try it on her.”

  Gazing at the Amazon, Garret hesitatingly spoke a few words. The woman spread her hands to show she didn’t understand and called down again. “Captain, I - That’s strange. It almost sounds like a lot of languages, but it’s none of them.”

  Benton tried again. “We’re from Fort Harker, in the state of Kansas, United States of America.” He didn’t need a translator to see that no one on the wall recognized any of those names.

  The woman called once more, gesturing in a way that conveyed she wanted them to wait, then hopped down inside the wall and disappeared from view. After a few minutes, the sound of heavy objects being moved came from behind the walls, then the massive gates of the city swung open and the woman came out riding toward the cavalrymen astride a horse which seemed part Arabian and part plains pony. Behind her came a small party of other mounted fighters from the city, both men and women, though those all stopped perhaps fifteen feet from the cavalrymen while the woman came on until she reined in close to them.

  “No stirrups,” Sergeant Tyndall murmured. “Just like the others.”

  Benton checked, having been distracted just watching the Amazon ride up, seeing that her saddle did lack stirrups and had high ridges in the front and back, doubtless to help the rider keep a seat during battle.

  “Be careful, cap’n,” Tyndall added in a low voice. “Women can be tricky.”

  The woman crossed her arms over her chest and bowed in her saddle, speaking again in a way which conveyed authority, then held out her hands to show what she held. “Bread and salt,” Garret said in a surprised voice. “That’s an ancient gesture of hospitality, captain.”

  “She’s welcoming us?”

  “Yes, sir, welcoming us as guests. You’re supposed to take a little of both to show you accept the hospitality.”

  Benton kneed his horse forward a couple of paces, coming within easy reach of the Amazon. This close he could finally judge her age, thinking she was probably in her mid-to-late thirties, not all that different from Benton himself. Reaching carefully, Benton grasped the bread and took a bite, tasting a hearty loaf with a strange nut-like aroma which didn’t match any wheat variety he had encountered. With his other hand, Benton rubbed a finger in the salt, feeling the warmth of the woman’s palm under it, then raised the finger to his mouth and licked it.

  She turned to hand the bread and salt to another woman who rode up hastily. This Amazon was a bit older, stouter, her armor bearing signs of long wear and careful maintenance. Something about the way she carried herself and answered the first woman’s instructions made Benton glance at Sergeant Tyndall. “I think we’ve found the leading sergeant here.”

  Tyndall looked as if he couldn’t decide whether to be scandalized or fascinated. But he could surely tell that Captain Benton was willing to accept the idea, so the sergeant seemed ready to follow his captain’s lead here as he had so many times before.

  The leader of the city pointed toward Benton again. No, not just toward him, but to his uniform blouse and trousers, and then upwards before inclining her head respectfully toward him.

  “Any guesses what that’s about, lieutenant?”

  “No, sir.”

  The Amazon swept off her helm, revealing dark hair cut short above her shoulders and making it easier to see that her eyes were the blue of a stormy sea. No, definitely not an Indian, but not Greek, either. Pointing to herself, the woman said two words. “Odwan Freya.”

  “Her name?” Garret speculated.

  “Maybe name and rank,” Benton replied. “She seems to be in charge.” He saluted her. “Captain Benton, ma’am.”

  Pointing at him, the woman repeated the words. “Kiptin Bintin-miim.” Sergeant Tyndall coughed, doubtless covering up a laugh.

  “It’s just –“ Benton paused, then pointed to himself. “Captain Benton.”

  She nodded. “Kip-tan Bin-ton.” The woman extended one hand toward the city and said, “Astera.”

  Turning once more, the Amazon gestured out to where the fleeing enemy could still be seen, shaking her head. She covered her eyes, made a series of motions mimicking someone coming stealthily this way, then drew a flat hand across her throat and pointed toward the enemy again. “She thinks those fellows might come back tonight when they can’t be seen and cut our throats, cap’n,” Tyndall remarked. “We’ll have to post a lot of sentries.”

  But t
he woman was pointing toward the gate, then made a gesture encompassing the entire company of cavalry, before indicating the gate once more and nodding vigorously. “Achates,” she declared, once again gesturing toward the cavalry and then at everyone with her and on the walls.

  “Friends?” Lieutenant Garret wondered. “She’s inviting us inside, sir.”

  Benton thought about that. He knew what could easily happen to his troopers inside the streets of a strange city. That wasn’t cavalry terrain at all, and his soldiers would be badly outnumbered by the people living here.

  But they needed stables and forage for the horses, food and water and shelter for the men. The sun wasn’t far from setting, and having the city walls between the cavalry and those hostiles wouldn’t be a bad thing, either.

  The Amazon looked steadily into his eyes, no trace of deception or hostility apparent. Drawing her sword slowly, she held it out hilt-first toward Benton.

  That gesture of peaceful intent was impossible to mistake. Benton noted approvingly that the woman had obviously wiped the sword blade clean of blood before returning it to its scabbard. She knew how to take proper care of a weapon. He nodded at her, studied the width of the gate for a moment, then turned to Garret. “Lieutenant, form the company up into a column of fours, then lead the column here. We will enter the city.”

  “Yes, sir.” Garret saluted, a gesture the Amazon watched with interest, then galloped back to the cavalry. A moment later the bugler sounded the signal, the clear tones echoing from the walls of the city, and the cavalry moved quickly from their two lines into a column, four men abreast, first platoon to the front and second platoon to the rear, the wagons taking their places in the center of the column again.

  The woman had resheathed her sword and now watched the cavalry form up, an approving smile appearing on her lips. Holding up her arms, she made a fist with one hand and pounded it repeatedly into her other palm. “Extos!” she cried.

  Other men and women from the city made the same gestures, which struck Benton as applause, some calling “extos” as well. The open admiration for how well his cavalry drilled helped dispel Benton’s doubts.

  As the head of the company reached him, Benton kneed his mount ahead to take up position in the lead. It wasn’t until he turned to ride along with the column that Benton realized the Amazon had followed and now rode beside him as the cavalry approached the gateway. As they reached the gates, the guards there raised their weapons in salute to the woman and stood aside for the cavalry. The road inside jogged sharply to the right between towering walls, then led through a second gate and into the city proper. The inhabitants of the city, some still armored and carrying weapons and others either too young or too old to defend the walls, lined the broad street leading into the city, many making the fist pounding into their hand gesture.

  Lieutenant Garret was looking around as if astounded. “Captain, it’s like an ancient city. The walls, the weapons, the defensive arrangements, the buildings, the people, everything.”

  Benton heard the cheering rise in volume behind him and looked to see that the national colors had just entered to city. The inhabitants were pointing to the banner excitedly. “They recognize the flag. Thank God, they recognize the flag.” He called out to the crowd, “United States of America!” several times.

  But the city’s people stared back blankly, before pointing at the U.S. flag and chanting “asteri” and then pointing upwards.

  Lieutenant Garret understood first. “Asteri. Astra. Stars. Like the name of the city, Astera. They must consider stars important, so they’re excited to see the stars on our flag.”

  “That big flag of theirs had a lot of stars on it, too,” Sergeant Tyndall agreed.

  “And our uniforms, captain,” Garret continued. “She made special note of your uniform. Light blue trousers and dark blue blouse.”

  “The color of the sky.” Hope died in Benton as quickly as it had blossomed.

  “We’re not in Kansas, that’s for certain.”

  But Sergeant Tyndall was shaking his head. “I don’t know what this is, cap’n, and I don’t know who these folks are, but that land out there is the land around Fort Harker and Ellsworth. I’d swear to it. I just don’t know where those places went and where this one came from.”

  Kansas but not Kansas. “Lieutenant Garret, Sergeant Tyndall, we have to make every effort to learn the language of these people, or teach them ours, well enough to find out where we really are and how to get home.”

  #

  The barracks to which the cavalry was led were clean and built of stone, as were the stables for their horses. Sergeant Tyndall, accompanied by the stout Amazon, actually seemed impressed. “Real nice quarters, sir, and they seem to know how to take care of horses. I got across to Belisa what our horses needed and she made sure it all showed up fast.”

  “Belisa?” Benton asked.

  “Uh…” Tyndall indicated the stout Amazon. “She…uh…seems pretty capable, cap’n.”

  After he explained with gestures to Odwan Freya that he wanted to stay with his men, Benton found himself and Lieutenant Garret offered private rooms, plainly but practically furnished. Before the men and Benton were even settled in their quarters some of the city folk were coming with large kettles filled with hot food. The dishes served, which seemed to be mostly a kind of beef mixed with grains and dried fruits, were unfamiliar but none of the famished cavalrymen turned up their noses at the food.

  Odwan Freya came by to ensure the cavalry had been well taken of just as the bugler reported to Captain Benton. “Sir, do I sound taps?”

  Benton looked at Freya, and nodded. “Yes. Let these people hear taps.”

  The bugler saluted, then marched out into the hallway and raised his instrument to his lips as Odwan Freya watched. When the last long, slow notes of General Dan Butterfield’s tune had sounded, her face reflected astonishment and admiration. Turning to Benton before she left, Freya inclined her head and spoke in a quiet tone appropriate to the music she had heard. “Extos.”

  The next morning, Benton resolved to send Lieutenant Garret out with a squad to collect the brass from the battle. He had yet to see any sign of gunpowder weapons here, and the inhabitants of the city regarded the cavalry’s carbines and pistols with an undisguised awe which seemed to reflect total unfamiliarity and suspicious fear in combination. The cavalry might end up having to make their own reloads, and while lead was easy enough to form into bullets, the brass cartridge casings wouldn’t be simple to replace.

  But Benton had barely eaten breakfast when Odwan Freya, along with the Amazon he increasingly thought of as ‘Sergeant” Belisa, and two men came by, Freya indicating they wished him to accompany them. Collecting Lieutenant Garret and Sergeant Tyndall, Benton followed the Asterans a short distance to a large room letting out onto what seemed to be a parade ground. A line of guards stood sentry outside, not watching the cavalry but facing outward to hold back the crowds of city people who were gathered outside the barracks.

  Freya pointed to the two men. “Decires Agani, Decires Costoni.” Decires was obviously a title of some kind, and both men appeared to be soldiers. Both also deferred to Freya, so the Odwan must outrank them.

  Agani and Belisa unrolled a large sheet of vellum onto a table filling the center of the room, pinning down the corners with polished stone blocks and looking at Benton expectantly. “Lieutenant Garret. What do you make of this?”

  Garret peered at the drawing. “It’s a map, captain.”

  “Very good. A map of what?”

  The lieutenant flushed slightly at the dry rebuke, then studied the beautifully hand-drawn map intently. “They’re tapping that symbol. It must be this city. Yes, that matches the river and the hills, doesn’t it?”

  Sergeant Tyndall, peering over Garret’s shoulder, nodded. “Right, lieutenant.”

  Encouraged by the sergeant’s agreement, Garret spoke with more confidence. “Then this over here must be the Missouri River. Which would
make this the Mississippi River. And this area would be down near New Orleans. They show a town of some sort there. But many of the cities east of here seem to be missing, and these political boundaries don’t match anything I know of.”

  “I follow you so far,” Benton agreed, his own hand tracing the way west. “And this is the west coast. California. Look at all of those cities. It’s as if the continent was settled first in the west and then settlers moved east.”

  Garret was following the west coast line north, then halted. “Sir? This goes into the new Alaska territory, but look. It just keeps going west up here. They show a broad strip of land going west until it reaches this other land mass. That’s got to be Asia, captain.”

  “A land bridge? That big?”

  The lieutenant had gone pale, his breaths coming rapidly. “Sir, sir, look. It is a land bridge. They’re saying that North and South America are connected to Asia and Europe by this big isthmus.”

  “They’re not,” Benton said, wondering why Garret was getting upset.

  “The map seems accurate as to terrain, sir. As far as we know. Except there.”

  “I’ll grant you that.”

  “Look at these people, sir! They’re not Indians. They’re like Central Europeans or something, maybe with more Asian in their blood. In our history, there wasn’t any easy way from Asia and Europe to North and South America, so every human migration headed west and ended in Europe. But here they could go east, too, and some of them did. Nothing we know is here. Instead there’s the ruins we found, the language these people speak, the weapons and armor they carry, this city…”

  A terrible suspicion filled Benton. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying, lieutenant?”

  “This isn’t our world, captain.” Garret seemed ready to pass out. “We haven’t just lost Fort Harker. We lost our entire world. History changed somehow while we were on that patrol, but it didn’t include us. There’s never been a United States of America. There’s probably never been an England, or a France. North America was never isolated from the rest of the world. People did colonize the west coast first, maybe thousands of years before Columbus found the Americas in our world.”