michael moorcock - castle brass 1 - count brass

7/28/2019 Michael Moorcock - Castle Brass 1 - Count Brass

1/94

le:///F|/rah/Michael%20Moorcock/Michael%20Moorcock_-_The%20Chronicles%20of%20Castle%20Brass_1_-_Count%20Brass.txt

e Chronicles of Castle Brass Book 1

unt Brass

Michael Moorcock

NTENTS

OK ONE

D FRIENDS

The Haunting of Dorian Hawkmoon 11

The Meeting in the Marsh 35

A Letter from Queen Flana 45

A Company of the Dead 54

OK TWO

D ENEMIES

A Speaking Pyramid 67

The Return of the Pyramid 77

The Journey to Soryandum 85

A Further Encounter with Another Old Enemy 91

Some Other Londra 98

Another Victim 110

OK THREE

D DREAMS AND NEW

The World Half-Made 121

A Museum of the Living and the Dead 127

Count Brass Chooses to Live 137

A Great Wind Blowing 145

Something of a Dream 151

ILOGUE 157

OK ONE

D FRIENDS

APTER ONE

E HAUNTING OF DORIAN HAWKMOON

had taken all these five years to restore the land of

marg, to repopulate its marshes with the giant scar-

t flamingoes, the wild white bulls and the horned

eat horses which had once teemed here before the

ming of the Dark Empire's bestial armies. It had

ken all these five years to rebuild the watchtowers of

le:///F|/rah/Michael%20Moorcock/Michael%20Moo...les%20of%20Castle%20Brass_1_-_Count%20Brass.txt (1 of 94) [6/4/03 10:51:15 PM]


2/94


e borders, to put up the towns and to erect tall Castle

ass in all its massive, masculine beauty. And, if any-

ing, in these five years of peace, the walls were built

ronger, the watchtowers taller, for, as Dorian Hawk-

on had said once to Queen Flana of Granbretan, the

rld was still wild and there was still little justice in it.

rian Hawkmoon, the Duke of Koln, and his bride,

sselda, Countess of Brass, old, dead Count Brass's

ughter, were the only two who remained of that

oup of heroes who had served the Runestaff againste Dark Empire and finally defeated Granbretan in the

eat Battle of Londra, putting Queen Flana, sad

een Flana, upon the throne so that she might guide

r cruel and decadent nation towards humanity and

tality.

unt Brass had died slaying three barons (Adaz

omp, Mygel Hoist and Saka Gerden) and in turn was

ain by a spearman of the Order of the Goat.

adahn of the Bulgar Mountains, beastman and

oyal friend of Hawkmoon, had been hacked to pieces

the war axes of the Order of the Pig.

wgentle, the unwarlike, the philosophical, had been

vaged and decapitated by Pigs, Goats and Hounds

the number of twelve.

illam D'Averc, mocker of everything, whose only

ith had seemed to be in his own lack of good health,

o had loved and been loved by Queen Flana, had

ed most ironically, riding to his love and being slain

one of her soldiers who thought D'Averc attacked

r.

ur heroes died. Thousands of other heroes, un-

med in the histories, but brave, also died in the

rvice of the Runestaff, in the destruction of the Dark

pire tyranny.

d a great villain died. Baron Meliadus of Kroiden,

st ambitious, most ambivalent, most awful of all the

istocrats of Granbretan, died upon the sword of

wkmoon, died beneath the edge of the mystical

ord of the Dawn.

d the ruined world seemed free.

t that had been five years hence. Much had passednce then. Two children had been born to Hawkmoon

d the Countess of Brass. They were called Manfred,

o had red hair and his grandfather's voice and health

d stood to be his grandfather's size and strength, and

rmila, who had golden hair and her mother's gentle

ughness of will, as well as her beauty. They were

ass stock, there was little in them of the Dukes of

ln, and perhaps that was why Dorian Hawkmoon

ved his children so fiercely and so well.

d beyond the walls of Castle Brass stood four



3/94


atues to the four dead heroes, to remind the in-

bitants of the castle of what they had fought for and

what cost. And Dorian Hawkmoon would often take

s children to those statues and tell them of the Dark

pire and its deeds. And they were pleased to listen.

d Manfred assured his father that when he grew up

s deeds would be as great as those of old Count Brass,

om he so resembled.

d Hawkmoon would say that he hoped they would

ve no need of heroes when Manfred was grown.

en, seeing disappointment in his son's face, he

uld laugh and say there were many kinds of heroes

d if Manfred had his grandfather's wisdom and

plomacy, his strong sense of justice, that would make

m the best kind of heroa justice-maker. And Man-

ed would only be somewhat consoled, for there is little

at is romantic about a judge and much that is attrac-

ve to a four-year-old boy about a warrior.

d sometimes Hawkmoon and Yisselda would take

eir children riding through the wild marshlands of the

marg, beneath wide skies of pastel colours, of faded

ds and yellows, where the reeds were brown and dark

een and orange and, in the appropriate season, bent

fore the mistral. And they would see a herd of white

lls thunder by, or a herd of horned horses. And they

ght see a flock of huge scarlet flamingoes suddenly

ke to the air and drift on broad wings over the heads

the invading human beings, not knowing that it was

rian Hawkmoon's responsibility, as it had been that

Count Brass, to protect the wildlife of the Kamarg

d never to kill it, and only sometimes to tame it to

ovide riding beasts for land and sky. Originally this

d been why the great watchtowers had been builtd why the men who occupied those watchtowers

re called Guardians. But now they guarded the

man populace as well as the beasts, guarded them

om any threat from beyond the Kamarg's borders (for

native-bred Karmargian would consider harming the

imals which were found nowhere else in the world).

e only beasts that were hunted (save for food) in

e marshes were the baragoon, the marsh gibberers, the

ings which had once been men themselves before be-

ming the victims of sorcerous experiments conducted

an evil Lord Guardian who had been done away with

old Count Brass. But there were only one or tworagoons left in the Kamarg lands now for hunters

d little difficulty identifying themthey were over

ght feet tall, five feet broad, bile-coloured and they

ithered on their bellies through the swamps, occasion-

ly rising to rush upon whatever prey they could now

nd in the marshlands. None the less, on their rides,

sselda and Dorian Hawkmoon would take care to

oid the places still thought to be inhabited by the

ragoon.

wkmoon had come to love the Kamarg more than

s own ancestral lands in far-off Germany, had even



4/94


nounced his title to those lands now ruled well by an

ected council as indeed were many of the European

nds who had lost their hereditary rulers and chosen,

nce the defeat of the Dark Empire, to become re-

blics.

t, for all that Hawkmoon was loved and respected

the people of the Kamarg, he was aware that he did

t replace old Count Brass in their eyes. He could

ver do that. They sought Countess Yisselda's advice

often as they sought his and they looked with greatvour on young Manfred, seeing him almost as a rein-

rnation of their old Lord Guardian.

other man might have resented all this, but Hawk-

on, who had loved Count Brass as well as had they,

cepted it with good grace. He had had enough of

mmand, of heroics. He preferred to live the life of a

mple country gentleman and wherever possible let the

ople have control of their own affairs. His ambitions

re simple, tooto love his beautiful wife Yisselda

d to ensure the happiness of his children. His days

history-making were over. All that he had left tomind him of his struggles against Granbretan was an

dly shaped scar in the centre of his foreheadwhere

ce had reposed the dreadful Black Jewel, the Brain-

ter implanted there by Baron Kalan of Vitall when,

ars before, Hawkmoon had been recruited against his

ll to serve the Dark Empire against Count Brass. Now

e jewel was gone and so was Baron Kalan, who had

mmitted suicide after the Battle of Londra. A brilliant

ientist, but perhaps the most warped of all the barons

Granbretan, Kalan had been unable to conceive of

ntinuing to exist under the new and, in his view, soft

der Imposed by Queen Flana, who had succeeded the

ng Emperor Huon after Baron Meliadus had slainm in a desperate effort to make himself controller of

anbretan's policies.

wkmoon sometimes wondered what would have

ppened to Baron Kalan, or, for that matter, Tara-

rm, Master of the Palace of Time, who had perished

en one of Kalan's fiendish weapons had exploded

ring the Battle of Londra, if they had lived on. Could

ey have been put into the service of Queen Flana and

eir talents used to rebuild the world they had helped

stroy? Probably not, he thought. They were insane.

eir characters had been wholly shaped by the per-

rted and insane philosophies which had led Gran-

etan to make war upon the world and come close to

nquering it all.

ter one of their marshland rides, the family would

turn to Aigues-Mortes, the walled and ancient town

ich was the principal city of the Kamarg, and to Cas-

e Brass which stood on a hill in the very centre. Built

the same white stone as the majority of the town's

uses, Castle Brass was a mixture of architectural

yles which, somehow, did not seem to clash with



5/94


ch other. Over the centuries there had been additions

d renovations; at the whim of different owners parts

d been torn down and other parts built. Most of the

ndows were of intricately detailed stained glass,

ough the window frames themselves were as often

und as they were square and as square as they were

long or oval. Turrets and towers sprang up from the

in mass of stone in all kinds of surprising places;

ere were even one or two minarets in the manner of

abian palaces. And Dorian Hawkmoon, following the

shion of his own German folk, had had many flagstaffsected and upon these staffs floated beautiful coloured

nners, including those of the Counts of Brass and

e Dukes of Koln. Gargoyles festooned the gutters of

e castle and many a gable was carved in stone in the

keness of a Kamargian beastthe bull, the flamingo,

e horned horse and the marsh bear.

ere was about Castle Brass, as there had been in

e days of Count Brass himself, something at once im-

essive and comfortable. The castle had not been built

impress anyone with either the taste or the power of

s inhabitants. It had hardly been built for strength

hough it had already proven its strength) and aestheticnsiderations, too, had not been made when rebuild-

g it. It had been built for comfort and this was a rare

ing in a castle. It could be that it was the only

stle in the world that had been built with such con-

derations in mind! Even the terraced gardens outside

e castle walls had a homely appearance, growing

getables and flowers of every sort, supplying not only

e castle but much of the town with its basic require-

nts.

en they returned from their rides the family would

t down to a good, plain meal which would be sharedth many of its retainers, then the children would be

ken to bed by Yisselda and she would tell them a

ory. Sometimes the story would be an ancient one,

om the time before the Tragic Millennium, sometimes

would be one she would make up herself and some-

mes, at the insistence of Manfred and Yarmila, Dorian

wkmoon would be called for and he would tell them

some of his adventures in distant lands when he

rved the Runestaff. He would tell them of how he had

t little Oladahn, whose body and face had been cov-

ed in fine, reddish hair, and who had claimed to be the

n of Mountain Giants. He would tell them of Amarehk

yond the great sea to the north and the the magical

ty of Dnark where he had first seen the Runestaff itself.

mittedly, Hawkmoon had to modify these tales, for

e truth was darker and more terrible than most adult

nds could conceive. He spoke most often of his dead

iends and their noblest deeds, keeping alive the

mories of Count Brass, Bowgentle, D'Averc and

adahn. Already these deeds were legendary through-

t Europe.

d when the stories were done, Yisselda and Dorian

wkmoon would sit in deep armchairs on either side



6/94


the great fireplace over which hung Count Brass's

mour of brass and his broadsword, and they would

lk or they would read.

om time to time they would receive letters from

ndra, from Queen Flana telling how her policies

ogressed. Londra, that insane roofed city, had been

most entirely dismantled and fine, open buildings put

instead on both sides of the River Tayme, which no

nger ran blood red. The wearing of masks had been

olished and most of the people of Granbretan had,

ter a while, become used to revealing their naked

ces, though some die-hards had had to receive mild

nishment for their insistence on clinging to the old,

d ways of the Dark Empire. The Orders of the

asts had also been outlawed and people had been

couraged to leave the darkness of their cities and re-

rn to the all but deserted and overgrown countryside

Granbretan, where vast forests of oak, elm or pine

retched for miles. For centuries Granbretan had lived

plunder and now she had to feed herself. Therefore

e soldiers who had belonged to the beast orders were

t to farming, to clearing the forests, to raising herdsd planting crops. Local councils were set up to rep-

sent the interests of the people. Queen Flana had

lled a parliament and this parliament now advised her

d helped her rule justly. It was strange how swiftly

warlike nation, a nation of military castes, had been

couraged to become a nation of farmers and foresters.

e majority of the people of Granbretan had taken

their new lives with relief once it dawned on them

at they were now free of the madness that had once

fected the whole landand sought, indeed, to infect

e world.

d so the quiet days passed at Castle Brass.

d so they would have passed for always (until

nfred and Yarmila grew up and Hawkmoon and

sselda became middle-aged and, eventually, old in

eir contentment, dying peacefully and cheerfully,

owing that the Kamarg was secure and that the days

the Dark Empire could never return) but for some-

ing strange that began to happen towards the close of

e sixth summer since the Battle of Londra when, to his

tonishment, Dorian Hawkmoon found that the people

Aigues-Mortes were beginning to offer him peculiar

oks when he hailed them in the streetssome refusingacknowledge him at all and others scowling and mut-

ring and turning aside as he approached.

was Dorian Hawkmoon's habit, as it had been

unt Brass's, to attend the great celebrations marking

e end of the summer's work. Then Aigues-Mortes

uld be decorated with flowers and banners and the

tizens would put on their most elaborate finery, young

ite bulls would be allowed to charge at will through

e streets and the guardians of the watchtowers would

de about in their polished armour and silk surcoats,

eir flame-lances on their hips. And there would be bull



7/94


ntests in the immeasurably ancient amphitheatre on

e outskirts of the town. Here was where Count Brass

d once saved the life of the great toreador Mahtan

st when he was being gored to death by a gigantic bull.

unt Brass had leaped into the ring and wrestled the

ll with his bare hands, bringing the beast to its knees

d winning the acclaim of the crowd, for Count Brass

d then been well into middle age.

t nowadays the festival was not a purely local

fair. Ambassadors from all over Europe would comehonour the surviving hero and heroine of Londra

d Queen Flana herself had visited Castle Brass on two

evious occasions. This year, however, Queen Flana

d been kept at home by affairs of state and one of her

bles attended in her name. Hawkmoon was pleased

note that Count Brass's dream of a unified Europe

s beginning to become reality. The wars with Gran-

etan had helped break down the old boundaries and

d brought the survivors together in a common cause.

rope still consisted of about a thousand small prov-

ces, each independent of any other, but they worked

concert on many projects concerning the generalod.

e ambassadors came from Scandia, from Muscovy,

om Arabia, from the lands of the Greeks and the

lgars, from Ukrainia, from Nurnberg and Catalania.

ey came in carriages, on horseback or in ornithopters

ose design was borrowed from Granbretan. And they

ought gifts and they brought speeches (some long and

me short) and they spoke of Dorian Hawkmoon as if

were a demigod.

past years their praise had found enthusiastic re-

onse in the people of the Kamarg. But for some reasonis year their speeches did not get quite the same qual-

y of applause as they once had. Few, however, noticed.

ly Hawkmoon and Yisselda noticed and, without be-

g resentful, they were deeply puzzled.

e most fulsome of all the speeches made in the

cient bullring of Aigues-Mortes came from Lonson,

ince of Shkarlan, cousin to Queen Flana, ambassador

om Granbretan. Lonson was young and an enthusias-

c supporter of the queen's policies. He had been barely

venteen when the Battle of Londra had robbed his

tion of its evil power and thus he bore no great re-

ntment of Dorian Hawkmoon von Kolnindeed, hew Hawkmoon as a saviour, who had brought peace

d sanity to his island kingdom. Prince Lonson's

eech was rich with admiration for the new Lord Pro-

ctor of the Kamarg. He recalled great deeds of bat-

e, great achievements of will and self-discipline, great

nning in the arts of strategy and diplomacy by which,

said, future generations would remember Dorian

wkmoon. Not only had Hawkmoon saved continental

ropehe had saved the Dark Empire from itself.

ated in his traditional box with all his foreign guests



8/94


out him, Dorian Hawkmoon listened to the speech

th embarrassment and hoped it would soon end. He

s dressed in ceremonial armour which was as ornate

it was uncomfortable and the back of his neck itched

rribly. While Prince Lonson spoke it would not be

lite to remove the helmet and scratch. He looked at

e crowd seated on the granite benches of the amphi-

eatre and seated on the ground of the ring itself.

ereas most of the people were listening with approval

Prince Lonson's speech, others were muttering toch other, scowling. One old man, whom Hawkmoon

cognised as an ex-guardian who had fought beside

unt Brass in many of his battles, even spat into the

st of the arena when Prince Lonson spoke of Dorian

wkmoon's unswerving loyalty to his comrades.

sselda also noticed this and she frowned, glancing

Hawkmoon to see if he had noticed. Their eyes met.

rian Hawkmoon shrugged and gave her a little

ile. She smiled back, but the frown did not altogether

ave her brow.

d at last the speech was over and applauded ande people began to leave the arena so that the first of

e bulls might be driven in and the first toreador at-

mpt to remove the colourful ribbons which were tied

the beast's horns (for it was not the custom of the

lk of the Kamarg to exhibit their courage by slaying

imalsinstead skill alone was pitted against the snort-

g savagery of the very fiercest bulls).

t when the crowd had departed there was one who

mained. Now Hawkmoon recalled his name. It was

ernik, originally a Bulgar mercenary who had thrown

his lot with Count Brass and ridden with him through

dozen campaigns. Czernik's face was flushed, as if hed been drinking, and his stance was unsteady as he

inted a finger up at Hawkmoon's box and spat again.

oyalty!' the old man croaked. 'I know otherwise.

know who is Count Brass's murdererwho betrayed

m to his enemies! Coward! Play-actor! False hero!'

wkmoon was stunned as he listened to Czernik

nt. What could the old man mean?

ewards ran into the ring to grasp Czernik's arms and

tempt to hurry him off. But he struggled with them.

hus your master tries to silence the truth!' screamed

ernik. 'But it cannot be silenced! He has been ac-

sed by the only one whose word can be trusted!'

it had only been Czernik who had shown such

imosity, Hawkmoon would have dismissed his ravings

senile. But Czernik was not the only one. Czernik

d expressed what Hawkmoon had seen on more than

score of faces that dayand on previous days.

et him be!' Hawkmoon called, standing up and

aning forward over the balustrade. 'Let him speak!'



9/94


r a moment the stewards were at a loss to know

at to do. Then, reluctantly, they released the old

n. Czernik stood there trembling, glaring into Hawk-

on's eyes.

ow,' Hawkmoon called. 'Tell me of what you ac-

se me, Czernik. I will listen.'

e attention of the whole populace of Aigues-Mortes

s upon Hawkmoon and Czernik now. There was a

illness, a silence in the air.

sselda tugged at her husband's surcoat. 'Do not

sten to him, Dorian. He is drunk. He is mad.'

ell me!' Hawkmoon demanded.

ernik scratched his head of grey, thinning hair. He

ared around him at the crowd. He mumbled some-

ing.

peak more clearly!' Hawkmoon said. 'I am eager to

ar, Czernik.'

called you murderer and murderer you be!' Czernik

id.

ho told you that I am a murderer!'

ain Czernik's mumble was inaudible.

ho told you?'

he one you murdered!' Czernik screamed. 'The one

u betrayed.'

dead man? Whom did I betray?'

he one we all love. The one I followed across a

ndred provinces. The one who saved my life twice.

e one to whom, living or dead, I would ever give my

yalty.'

sselda's whisper from behind Hawkmoon was in-

edulous. 'He can speak of none other but my

ther . ..'

o you mean Count Brass?' Hawkmoon called.

ye!' cried Czernik defiantly. 'Count Brass, who

me to the Kamarg all those years ago and saved itom tyranny. Who fought the Dark Empire and saved

e whole world! His deeds are well known. What was

t known was that at Londra he was betrayed by one

o not only coveted his daughter but coveted his cas-

e, too. And killed him for them!'

ou lie,' and Hawkmoon evenly. 'If you were

unger, Czernik, I would challenge you to defend your

ul words with a sword. How could you believe such

es?'

any believe them!' Czernik gestured to indicate the



10/94


owd. 'Many here have heard what I have heard.'

here have you heard this?' Yisselda joined her

sband at the balustrade.

n the marshlands beyond the town. At night. Some,

ke me, journeying home from another townthey

ve heard it.'

nd from whose lying lips?' Hawkmoon was trem-

ing with anger. He and Count Brass had fought side

side, each had been prepared to die for the other

d now this dreadful lie was being tolda He which in-

lted Count Brass's memory. And that was why Hawk-

on was angry.

rom his own! From Count Brass's lips.'

runken fool! Count Brass is dead. You said as

ch yourself.'

yebut his ghost has returned to the Kamarg.

ding upon the back of his great horned horse in all

s armour of gleaming brass, with his hair and hisustache all red as brass and his eyes like burnished

ass. He is out there, treacherous Hawkmoon, in the

rsh. He haunts you. And those who meet him are told

your treachery, how you deserted him when his

emies beset him, how you let him die in Londra.'

t is a lie!' shouted Yisselda. 'I was there. I fought

Londra. Nothing could save my father.'

nd,' continued Czernik, his voice deepening but still

ud, 'I heard from Count Brass how you joined with

ur lover to deceive him.'

h!' Yisselda clapped her hands to her ears. This

obscene! Obscene!'

e silent now, Czernik,' warned Hawkmoon hollow-

. 'Still your tongue, for you go too far!'

e awaits you in the marshes. He will take his ven-

ance upon you out there at night when next you

avel beyond the walls of Aigues-Mortesif you dare.

d his ghost is still more of a hero, more of a man than

e you, turncoat. Ayeturncoat you be. First you

rved Koln, then you served the Empire, then you

rned against the Empire, then you aided the Empireits plot against Count Brass, then once again you be-

ayed the Empire. Your history speaks for the truth

what I say. I am not mad. I am not drunk. There are

hers who have seen and heard what I have seen

d heard.'

hen you have been deceived,' said Yisselda firmly.

t is you who have been deceived, my lady!' Czernik

owled.

d then the stewards came forward again and

le:///F|/rah/Michael%20Moorcock/Michael%20Moo...les%20of%20Castle%20Brass_1_-_Count%20Brass.txt (10 of 94) [6/4/03 10:51:15 PM


11/94


wkmoon did not try to stop them as they dragged

e old man from the amphitheatre.

e rest of the proceedings did not go well, after

at. Hawkmoon's guests were too embarrassed to com-

nt on the incident and the crowd's interest was not

the bulls or the toreadors who leaped so skilfully

e ring, plucking the ribbons from the horns.

banquet followed at Castle Brass. To the banquet

d been invited all the local dignitaries of the Kamarg,

well as the ambassadors, and it was noticeable that

ur or five of the local people had not come. Hawk-

on ate little and drank more than was normal for

m. He tried hard to rid himself of the gloomy mood

to which Czernik's peculiar declarations had put him,

t he found it difficult to smile even when his own

ildren came down to greet him and be introduced to

s guests. Every sentence he spoke required an effort

d there was no flow of conversation, even among the

ests. Many of the ambassadors made excuses and

nt early to their beds. And soon only Hawkmoon and

sselda were left in the banqueting hall, still seated

their places at the head of the table, watching thervants clear away the remains of the meal.

hat could he have seen?' said Yisselda as, at last,

e servants, too, left. 'What could he have heard,

rian?'

wkmoon shrugged. 'He told us. Your father's

ost . . .'

baragoon more articulate than most?'

e described your father. His horse. His armour.

s face.'

ut he was drank even today.'

e said that others saw Count Brass and heard the

me story from his lips.'

hen it is a plot. Some enemy of yoursone of the

rk Empire lords who survived unrepentantdressed

with false whiskers and his face painted to resem-

e my father's.'

hat could be,' said Hawkmoon. 'But would not

ernik of all people have seen through such a decep-

on? He knew Count Brass for years.'

ye. And knew him well,' Yisselda admitted.

wkmoon rose slowly from his chair and walked

avily towards the fireplace where Count Brass's war-

ar hung. He looked up at it, reached out to finger it.

shook his head. 'I must discover for myself what

is "ghost" is. Why should anyone seek to discredit

in this way? Who could my enemy be?'

zernik himself? Could he resent your presence at

stle Brass?'



12/94


zernik is oldnear senile. He could not have in-

nted such an elaborate deception.'

as he not wondered why Count Brass should re-

in in the marshes complaining about me? That is not

ke Count Brass. He would come to his own castle if

were here. If he had a grudge he would tax me with

.'

ou speak as if you believe Czernik now.'

wkmoon sighed. 'I must know more. I must find

ernik and question him . . .'

will send one of our retainers into the town.'

o. I will go into the town and search him out.'

re you sure... ?'

t is what I must do.' He kissed her. 'I'll put an end

this tonight. Why should we be plagued by phantoms

have not even seen?'

wrapped a thick cloak of dark blue silk about

s shoulders and kissed Yisselda once more before go-

g out into the courtyard and ordering his horned horse

ddled and harnessed. Some minutes later he rode out

om the castle and down the winding road to the town.

w lights burned in Aigues-Mortes, for all that there

s supposed to be a festival in the town. Evidently

e townspeople had been as affected by the scene in the

llring as had Hawkmoon and his guests. The wind

s beginning to blow as Hawkmoon reached the

reets; the harsh mistral wind of the Kamarg, which

e people hereabouts called the Life Wind, for it was

pposed to have saved their land during the Tragicllennium.

Czernik was to be found anywhere it was in one

the taverns on the north side of town. Hawkmoon

de to the district, letting his horse make its own

eed, for in many ways he was reluctant to repeat the

rlier scene. He did not want to hear Czernik's lies

ain; they were lies which dishonoured all, even Count

ass, whom Czernik claimed to love.

e old taverns on the north side were primarily of

od, with only their foundations being made of the

ite stone of the Kamarg. The wood was painted inny different colours and some of the most ambitious

the taverns had even painted whole scenes across the

ontagesseveral of the scenes commemorating the

eds of Hawkmoon himself and others recalling earlier

ploits of Count Brass before he came to save the

marg, for Count Brass had fought (and often been

prime mover) in almost every famous battle of his

y. Indeed, not a few of the taverns were named for

unt Brass's battles, as well as those of the four heroes

o had served the Runestaff. One tavern was called

e Magyarian Campaign while another proclaimed it-



13/94


lf The Battle of Cannes. Here were The Fort at Ba-

ncia, Nine Left Standing and The Banner Dipped in

oodall recalling Count Brass's exploits. Czernik, if

had not fallen on his face in some gutter by now,

uld be bound to be in one of them.

wkmoon entered the nearest door, that of The

d Amulet (named for that mystic jewel he had once

rn around his own neck), and found the place packed

th old soldiers, many of whom he recognised. They

re all pretty drunk, with big mugs of wine and ale

their hands. There was hardly a man among them

o did not have scars on his face or limbs. Their

ughter was harsh but not noisyonly their singing

s loud. Hawkmoon felt pleased to be in such com-

ny and greeted many whom he knew. He went up to

one-armed Slaviananother of Count Brass's men

d greeted him with genuine pleasure.

osef Vedla! Good evening, Captain. How goes it

th you?'

dla blinked and tried to smile. 'A good evening

you, my lord. We have not seen you in our taverns for

ny a month.' He lowered his eyes and took an in-

rest in the contents of his wine-cup.

ill you join me in a skin of the new wine?' Hawk-

on asked. 'I hear it is singularly good this year. Per-

ps some of our other old friends will?'

o thanks, my lord.' Vedla rose. 'I've had too much

it is.' Awkwardly he pulled his cloak around him with

s single hand.

wkmoon spoke directly. 'Josef Vedla. Do you be-

eve Czernik's tale of meeting Count Brass in the

rsh?'

must go.' Vedla walked towards the low doorway.

aptain Vedla. Stop.'

luctantly, Vedla stopped and slowly he turned to

ok at Hawkmoon.

o you believe that Count Brass told him I betrayed

r cause? That I led Count Brass himself into a trap?'

dla scowled. 'Czernik alone I would not believe.grows old and remembers only his youth when he

de with Count Brass. Maybe I wouldn't believe any

teran, no matter what he told mefor we all still

urn for Court Brass and would have him come back

us.'

s would I.'

dla sighed. 'I believe you, my lord. Though few

uld, these days. At leastmost are simply not

re...'



14/94


ho else has seen this ghost?'

everal merchants, journeying back late at night

rough the marsh roads. A young bull-catcher. Even

e guardian on duty in an eastern tower claims to

ve seen the figure in the distance. A figure that was

mistakably Count Brass.'

o you know where Czernik is now?'

robably in The Dnieper Crossing at the end of this

ley. That's where he spends his pension these days.'

ey went out into the cobbled street.

wkmoon said: 'Captain Vedla, can you believe

at I would betray Count Brass?'

dla rubbed his pitted nose. 'No. Nor can most. It

hard to think of you as a traitor, Duke of Koln. But

e stories are so consistent. Everyone who has met

isthis ghosttells the same tale.'

ut Count Brassalive or deadis not one to

ver on the edges of the town complaining. If hentedif he wanted vengeance on me, do you not

ink he would come and claim it?'

ye. Count Brass was not a man to be indecisive.

t,' Captain Vedla smiled wanly, 'we also know that

osts are supposed to act according to the customs of

osts.'

ou believe in ghosts, then?'

believe in nothing. I believe in everything. This

rld has taught me that lesson. What of the events

ncerning the Runestaffwould an ordinary man be-eve that they really took place?'

wkmoon could not help but return Vedla's smile. 'I

ke your point. Well, good night to you, Captain.'

ood night, my lord.'

sef Vedla strode off in the opposite direction while

wkmoon led his horse down the street to where he

uld see the sign of the tavern called The Dnieper

ossing. The paint was peeling on the sign and the

vern itself sagged as if one of its central beams had

en removed. It looked an unsavoury place and the

ell which came out of it was a mixture of sour wine,

imal dung, grease and vomit. It was evident why a

unkard would choose it, for more oblivion could be

ught here at the cheapest price.

e place was almost empty as Hawkmoon ducked

s head through the door and went inside. A few brands

d candles illuminated the room. The unclean floor

d the filthy benches and tables, the cracked leather

the wineskins strewn here and there, the chipped

oden and clay beakers, the ill-clothed men and

men who sat hunched or lay sprawled in corners, all



15/94


ve credence to Hawkmoon's original impression. Peo-

e did not come to The Dnieper Crossing for social

asons. They came here to get drunk as quickly as was

ssible.

small, dirty man with a fringe of black, greasy

ir around his bald pate, slid from a patch of dark-

ss and smiled up at Hawkmoon. 'Ale, my lord? Good

ne?'

zernik,' said Hawkmoon. 'Is he here?'

ye.' The small man jerked a thumb towards the

rner and a door marked Privy. 'He's in there making

ace for more. He'll be out shortly. Shall I call him?'

o.' Hawkmoon looked around and then sat down

a bench he judged to be somewhat cleaner than the

st. 'I'll wait for him.'

nd a cup of wine while you wait?'

ery well.'

wkmoon left the wine untouched as he waited for

ernik to emerge. At last the old veteran came stum-

ing out and went straight to the bar. 'Another flagon,'

mumbled. He patted at his clothes, looking for his

rse. He had not seen Hawkmoon.

wkmoon rose. 'Czernik?'

ernik whirled around and almost fell over. He

mbled for a sword he had long since pawned to buy

re drink. 'Have you come to kill me, traitor?' His

eary eyes slowly sharpened with hatred and fear. 'Mustdie for telling the truth. If Count Brass were here .. .

u know what this place is called?'

he Dnieper Crossing.'

ye. We fought side by side, Count Brass and I, at

e Dnieper Crossing. Against Prince Ruchtof's armies,

ainst his cossaki. And the river was dammed with their

dies so that its course was changed for all time. And

the end of it all Prince Ruchtof's armies were dead

d Count Brass and I were the only two of our side

ft alive.'

know the tale.'

hen know that I am brave. That I do not fear you.

ll me, if you wish. But you shall not silence Count

ass himself.'

did not come to silence you, Czernik, but to listen.

ll me again what you saw and what you heard.'

ernik glared suspiciously at Hawkmoon. 'I told you

is afternoon.'

wish to hear it once more. Without any of your



16/94


n accusations. Tell me, as you remember them, Count

ass's words to you.'

ernik shrugged. 'He said that you had coveted his

nds and his daughter ever since you first came to the

marg. He said that you had proved yourself a traitor

veral times over before you ever met him. He said that

u fought the Dark Empire at Koln, then joined with

e Beast Lords, even though they had slain your own

ther. Then you turned against the Empire when you

ought you were strong enough, but they defeated youd took you back in chains of gilded iron to Londra

ere, in exchange for your own life you agreed to

lp them in a plot to betray Count Brass. Once out

their hands you came to the Kamarg and thought

easier to betray your Empire masters once again. This

u did. Then you used your friendsCount Brass,

adahn, Bowgentle and D'Avercto beat the Empire

d when they were no longer useful to you, you ar-

nged things so that they should die in the Battle of

ndra.'

convincing story,' said Hawkmoon grimly. 'It

ts the facts well enough, though it leaves out detailsich would vindicate my actions. A clever fabrication,

deed.'

ou say Count Brass lies?'

say that what you saw in the marshesthe ghost

mortalis not Count Brass. I know I speak the truth,

ernik, for I have no betrayals on my conscience.

unt Brass knew the truth. Why should he lie after

ath?'

know Count Brass and I know you. I know that

unt Brass would not tell such a lie. In diplomacy hes cunningwe all know that. But to his friends he

oke only the truth.'

hen what you saw was not Count Brass.'

hat I saw was Count Brass. His ghost. Count Brass

he was when I rode at his side holding his banner

r him when we went against the League of Eight

Italia, two years before we came to the Kamarg. I

ow Count Brass . . .'

wkmoon frowned. 'And what was his message?'

e waits for you in the marshes every night, there

take his vengeance upon you.'

wkmoon drew a deep breath. He adjusted his

ord-belt on his hip. 'Then I will go to him tonight.'

ernik looked curiously at Hawkmoon. 'You are

t afraid?'

am not. I know that whoever you saw cannot be

unt Brass. Why should I fear a fraud?'

erhaps you do not remember betraying him?'



17/94


ernik suggested vaguely. 'Perhaps it was all done by

e jewel you once wore in your forehead? Could it be

e jewel which forced you to such actions, so that

en it was removed you forgot all that you had

anned?'

wkmoon offered Czernik a bleak smile. 'I thank

u for that, Czernik. But I doubt if the jewel controlled

to that extent. Its nature was somewhat different.'

frowned. For a moment he had begun to wonder

Czernik were right. It would be horrifying if it wereue . . . But no, it could not be true. Yisselda would

ve known the truth, however much he might have

ied to hide it. Yisselda knew he was no traitor.

t something was haunting the marshlands and try-

g to turn the folk of the Kamarg against him and

erefore he must get to grips with it once and for all

y the ghost and prove to people like Czernik that he

d betrayed no one.

said nothing more to Czernik but turned and

rode from the tavern, mounting his heavy black stal-on and turning its head towards the town gates.

rough the gates he went and out into the moonlit

rsh, hearing the first distant, keening notes of the

stral, feeling its cold breath on his cheek, seeing the

rface of the lagoons ripple and the reeds perform an

itated dance in anticipation of the wind's full force

ich would come a few days later.

ain he let his horse find its own route, for it knew

e marsh better than did he. And meanwhile he peered

rough the gloom, looking this way and that; looking

r a ghost.

APTER TWO

E MEETING IN THE MARSH

e marsh was full of small soundsscuttlings and

itherings, coughs, barks and hoots as the night animals

nt about their business. Sometimes a larger beast

uld emerge from the darkness and blunder past

wkmoon. Sometimes there would be a heavy splash

om a lagoon as a large fish-eating owl plunged upon

s prey. But no human figureghost or mortalwas

en by the Duke of Koln as he rode deeper and deeper

to the darkness.

rian Hawkmoon was confused. He was bitter. He

d looked forward to a life of rural tranquillity. The

ly problems he had anticipated were the problems of

eeding and planting, of the ordinary business of rais-

g children.

d now this damned mystery had emerged. Not even

threat of war would have disturbed him half as much.

r, albeit with the Dark Empire, was clean compared

this. If he had seen the brazen ornithopters of Gran-



18/94


etan in the skies, if he had seen beast-masked armies

d grotesque carriages and all the other bizarre para-

ernalia of the Dark Empire in the distance, he would

ve known how to deal with it. Or if the Runestaff had

lled him, he would have known how to respond.

t this was insidious. How could he cope with

mours, with ghosts, with old friends being turned

ainst him?

ill the horned stallion plodded on through the

rsh paths. Still there was no sign that the marsh was

cupied by anyone other than Hawkmoon himself. He

gan to feel tired, for he had risen much earlier than

ual in order to prepare himself for the festival. He

gan to suspect that there was nothing out here, that

ernik and the others had imagined it all, after all. He

iled to himself. He had been a fool to take a drunk-

d's ravings seriously.

d, of course, it was at that moment that it ap-

ared to him. It was seated on a hornless chestnut war-

rse and the warhorse was draped with a canopy of

sset silk. The armour shone in the moonlight and it

s all of heavy brass. Burnished brass helmet, very

ain and practical; burnished brass breastplate and

eaves. From head to foot the figure was clad in brass.

e gloves and the boots were of brass links stitched

on leather. The belt was of brass chain brought to-

ther by a huge brass buckle and the belt supported

brass scabbard. In the scabbard rested something

ich was not of brass but of good steel. A broadsword.

d then there was the facethe golden brown eyes,

eady and stern, the heavy red moustache, the red eye-

ows, the bronze tan.

could be no other.

ount Brass!' gasped Hawkmoon. And then he

osed his mouth and studied the figure, for he had

en Count Brass dead on the battlefield.

ere was something different about this man and

did not take Hawkmoon more than a moment to

alize that Czernik had spoken the literal truth when

said it was the same Count Brass beside whom he

d fought at the Dnieper Crossing. This Count Brass

s at least twenty years younger than the one whom

wkmoon had first met when he visited the Kamarg

ven or eight years previously.

e eyes flickered and the great head, seemingly all

brazen metal, turned slightly so that those eyes now

ered directly into Hawkmoon's.

re you the one?' said the deep voice of Count Brass.

y nemesis?'

emesis?' Hawkmoon uttered a sharp laugh. 'I

ought you to be mine, Count Brass!'



19/94


am confused.' The voice was definitely the voice

Count Brass, but it had a slightly dreamy quality to

. And Count Brass's eyes did not focus with their old,

miliar clarity upon Hawkmoon's.

hat are you?' Hawkmoon demanded. 'What brings

u to the Kamarg?'

y death. I am dead, am I not?'

he Count Brass whom I knew is dead. He died at

ndra more than five years since. I hear that I have

en accused of that death.'

ou are the one called Hawkmoon of Koln?'

am Dorian Hawkmoon, Duke of Koln, aye.'

hen I must slay you, it seems.' This Count Brass

oke with some reluctance.

r all that his head whirled, Hawkmoon could see

at Count Brass (or whatever the creature was) was

ite as uncertain of himself as was Hawkmoon at thatment. For one thing, while Hawkmoon had recog-

zed Count Brass, this man had not recognized Hawk-

on.

hy must you slay me? Who told you to slay me?'

he oracle. Though I am dead now, I may live

ain. But if I live again I must ensure that I do not die

the Battle of Londra. Therefore I must kill the one

o would lead me to that battle and betray me to

ose against whom I fight. That one is Dorian Hawk-

on of Koln, who covets my land andand my daugh-r.'

have lands of my own and your daughter was

trothed to me before the Battle of Londra. Someone

ceives you, friend ghost.'

hy should the oracle deceive me?'

ecause there are such things as false oracles. Where

you come from?'

rom? Why, from Earth.'

here do you believe this place to be, in that case?'

he netherworld, of course. A place from which few

cape. But I can escape. Only I must slay you first,

rian Hawkmoon.'

omething seeks to destroy me through you, Count

assif Count Brass you be. I cannot begin to ex-

ain this mystery, but I believe that you think you

ally are Count Brass and that I am your enemy. Per-

ps all is a lieperhaps only part.'

frown passed across the Count's brazen brow. 'You



20/94


nfuse me. I do not understand. I was not warned of

is.'

wkmoon's lips were dry. He was so bewildered that

could barely think. So many emotions moved in him

the same time. There was grief for the memory of his

ad friend. There was hatred for whoever it was sought

mock that memory. There was fear in case this should

a ghost. There was sympathy, should this really be

unt Brass raised from the dead and turned into an

tomaton.

began to suspect not the Runestaff now, but the

ience of the Dark Empire. This whole affair had the

amp of the perverse genius of the scientists of Gran-

etan. But how could they have affected it? The two

eat sorcerer-scientists of the Dark Empire, Taragorm

d Kalan, were dead. There had been none to equal

em while they lived, and none to replace them when

ey died.

d why did Count Brass look so much younger?

y did he seem unaware that he possessed a daugh-

r?

ot warned by whom?' said Hawkmoon insistently.

it came to a fight he knew that Count Brass could

sily defeat him. Count Brass had ever been the best

ghter in Europe. Even in late middle-age there had

en no one who could begin to match him in a man-

-man sword engagement.

y the oracle. And another thing puzzles me, my

emy to be; why, if you still live, do you, too, dwell

the netherworld?'

his is not the netherworld. It is the land of the

marg. Do you not recognize it, thenyou, who were

s Lord Guardian for so many yearswho helped de-

nd it against the Dark Empire? I do not think you can

Count Brass.'

e figure raised a gauntleted hand to its brow in

gesture of puzzlement. "Think you that? Yet we have

ver met. . .'

ot met? We have fought together in many battles.

have saved each other's lives. I think that you are a

n who bears a resemblance to Count Brass, who has

en trapped by some sorcery or other and taught to

ink that he is Count Brassthen despatched to kill

. Perhaps some remnants of the old Dark Empire

ill survive. Perhaps some of Queen Flana's subjects

ill hates me. Does that idea mean anything to you?'

o. But I know that I am Count Brass. Do not con-

se me further, Duke of Koln.'

ow do you know you are Count Brass? Because

u resemble him?'

ecause I am him!' The man roared. 'Dead or alive



21/94


am Count Brass!'

ow can you be, when you do not recognise me?

en you did not even know you had a daughter?

en you confuse this land of the Kamarg for some

pernatural netherworld? When you recall nothing of

at we went through together in the service of the

nestaff? When you believe that I, of all people, who

ved you, whose life and dignity both were saved by

u, should have betrayed you?'

know nothing of the events of which you speak.

t I know of my travellings and of my battles in the

rvice of a score of princesin Magyaria, Arabia,

andia, Slavia and the lands of the Greeks and Bulgars.

know of my dream, which is to bring unity to the

uabbling princedoms of Europe. I know of my suc-

ssesaye, and of my failures, too. I know of the

men I have loved, of the friends I have hadand of

e enemies I have fought. And I know, too, that you

e neither friend nor foe as yet, but will become my

st treacherous enemy. On Earth I lie dying. Here I

avel in search of the one who will finally take all I

ssess, including my very life.'

nd say again who has granted you this boon?'

odssupernatural beingsthe oracle itselfI

ow not.'

ou believe in such things?'

did not. Now I must, for the evidence is here.'

think not. I am not dead. I do not inhabit a nether-

rld. I am flesh and blood and so, by the looks of it,

e you, my friend. I hated you when I first rode out to

ek you. Now I see that you are as much a victim

am I. Return to your masters. Tell them that it is

wkmoon who shall be avengedupon them!'

y Narsha's garter, I'll not be given orders!' roared

e man in brass. His gloved right hand fell upon the

lt of his sword. It was a gesture typical of Count

ass. The expressions were Count Brass's too. Was

is some terrible simulacrum of the Count, invented

Dark Empire science?

wkmoon was by now almost hysterical with be-

lderment and grief.

ery well, then,' he cried, 'let us go to it, you and I.

you are truly Count Brass you'll have little difficulty

slaying me. Then you will be content. And so will I,

r I could not live with people suspecting that I had be-

ayed you!'

t then the man's expression changed and became

oughtful. 'I am Count Brass, be certain of that, Duke

Koln. But, as for the rest, it is possible that we are

th victims of a plot. I have not merely been a soldier

my life, but a politician, too. I know of those who



22/94


light in turning friend against friend for their own

ds. There is a slight possibility that you speak

uth . . .'

ell, then,' said Dorian Hawkmoon in relief, 'return

th me to Castle Brass and we will discuss what we

th know.'

e man shook his head. 'No. I cannot. I have seen

e lights of your walled city and your castle above it. I

uld visit itbut there is something that stops me from

doinga barrier. I cannot explain what its proper-

es are. That is why I have been forced to wait for you

this damned marsh. I had hoped to get this business

er with swiftly, but now . ..' The man frowned again.

or all that I am a practical man, Duke of Koln, I have

ways prided myself on being a just one. I would not

ay you to fulfil some other's endnot unless I knew

at that end was, at any rate. I must consider all that

u have said. Then, if I decide that you are lying to

ve your skin, I will kill you.'

r,' said Hawkmoon grimly, 'if you are not Count

ass, there is a good chance that I shall kill you.'

e man smiled a familiar smileCount Brass's

ile. 'Ayeif I am not Count Brass,' he said.

shall come back to the marsh at noon tomorrow,'

id Hawkmoon. 'Where shall we meet?'

oon? There is no noon here. No sun at all!'

n this you do lie,' Hawkmoon laughed. 'In a few

urs it will be morning here.'

ain the man passed a gauntleted hand across hisowning brow. 'Not for me,' he said. 'Not for me.'

is puzzled Hawkmoon all the more. 'But you have

en here for days, I heard.'

nighta long, perpetual night.'

oes this fact, too, not make you believe you are the

ctim of a deception?'

t might,' said the man. He gave a deep sigh. 'Well,

me when you think. Do you see yonder ruinon the

llock?' He pointed with a finger of brass.

the moonlight Hawkmoon could just make out the

ape of an old ruined building which Bowgentle had

scribed as being that of a Gothic church of immense

e. It had been one of Count Brass's favourite places.

had often ridden there when he felt the need to be

one.

know the ruin,' said Hawkmoon.

hen meet me there. I shall wait as long as my

tience lasts.'



23/94


ery well.'

nd come armed,' said the man, 'for we shall prob-

ly need to fight.'

ou are not convinced of what I have said?'

ou have said nothing very much, friend Hawk-

on. Vague suppositions. References to people I do

t know. You think the Dark Empire is bothered with

? It has more important matters to consider, I should

ink.'

he Dark Empire is destroyed. You helped destroy

.'

d again the man grinned a familiar grin. 'That is

ere you are deceived, Duke of Koln.' He turned his

rse and began to ride back into the night.

ait!' called Hawkmoon. 'What do you mean?'

t the man had begun to gallop now.

ldly, Hawkmoon spurred his horse in pursuit.

hat do you mean?'

e horse was reluctant to go at such a pace. It

orted and tried to pull back, but Hawkmoon spurred

e beast harder. 'Wait!'

could just see the rider ahead, but his outline

s becoming less well-defined. Surely he could not

uly be a ghost?

ait!'

wkmoon's horse slipped in the slime. It whinnied in

ar, as if trying to warn Hawkmoon of their mutual

nger. Hawkmoon spurred the horse again. It reared.

s hind-legs began to slip in the mud.

wkmoon tried to control his steed, but it was fall-

g and taking him with it.

d then they had both plunged off the narrow marsh

ad, broken through the reeds at the edge and fallen

avily into mud which gulped greedily and tugged them

itself. Hawkmoon tried to struggle back to the bank,

t his feet were still in his stirrups and one of his legs

s trapped beneath the bulk of his horse's floundering

dy.

stretched out and grabbed at a bunch of reeds, try-

g to drag himself to safety, he moved a few inches

wards the path and then the reeds were wrenched free

d he fell back.

became calm as he realised that he was being

lled deeper and deeper into the swamp with every

nicky movement.



24/94


reflected that if he did have enemies who wished

see him dead he had, in his own stupidity, granted

eir wish, after all.

APTER THREE

LETTER FROM QUEEN FLANA

could not see his horse, but he could hear it.

e poor beast was snorting as the mud filled its

uth. Its struggles had grown much weaker.

wkmoon had managed to free his feet from the

irrups and his leg was no longer trapped, but now

ly his arms, his head and his shoulders were above

e surface. Little by little he was slipping to his death.

had had some notion of climbing on to the horse's

ck and from there leaping to the path, but his efforts

that direction had been entirely unsuccessful. All he

d done was push the animal a little further under.

w the horse's breathing was ugly, muffled, painful.

wkmoon knew that his own breathing would soon

und the same.

felt completely impotent. By his own foolishness

had got himself into this position. Far from solving

ything, he had created a further problem. And, if he

ed, he knew, too, that many would say that he had

en slain by Count Brass's ghost. This would give

edence to the accusations of Czernik and the others.

would mean that Yisselda herself would be suspected

helping him betray her own father. At best she could

ave Castle Brass, perhaps going to live with Queen

ana, perhaps going to Koln. It would mean that his

n Manfred would not inherit his birthright as Lord

ardian of the Kamarg. It would mean that his daugh-

r Yarmila would be ashamed to speak his name.

am a fool,' he said aloud. 'And a murderer. For I

ve slain a good horse besides myself. Perhaps Czernik

s rightperhaps the Black Jewel made me do acts of

eachery I cannot now remember. Perhaps I deserve to

e.'

d then he thought he heard Count Brass ride by,

cking him with ghostly laughter. But it was probably

ly a marsh goose whose slumber had been disturbed

a fox.

w his left arm was being sucked down. Carefully

raised it. Even the reeds were out of reach now.

heard his horse give one last sigh as its head sank

neath the mud. He saw its body heave as it sought

draw breath. And then it was still. He watched as its

rso slipped from sight.

w there were more ghostly voices to mock him.

s that Yisselda's voice? The cry of a gull. And the

eper voices of his soldiers? The bark of foxes and



25/94


rsh bears.

is deception seemed, at that moment, to be the

uellest of allfor his own brain deceived him.

ain he was filled with a sense of irony. To have

ught for so long and so hard against the Dark Em-

re. To have survived terrifying adventures on two

ntinentsonly to die in ignominy, alone, in a swamp.

ne would know where or how he had died. His grave

uld be unmarked. There would be no statue erected

him outside the walls of Castle Brass. Well, he

ought, it was a quiet way to die, at least.

orian!'

is time the bird's cry seemed to call his name. He

lled back at it, echoing it 'Dorian!'

orian!'

y Lord of Koln,' said the voice of a marsh bear.

y Lord of Koln,' said Hawkmoon in the same tone.

w it was completely impossible to free his left arm.felt the mud burying his chin. The constricting mud

ainst his chest made it that much harder for him to

eath. He felt dizzy. He hoped that he might become

conscious before the mud filled his mouth.

rhaps if he died he would find that he dwelled in

me netherworld. Perhaps he would meet Count Brass

ain. And Oladahn of the Bulgar Mountains. And

illam D'Averc. And Bowgentle, the philosopher, the

et.

h,' he said to himself, 'if I could be sure, then I

uld welcome this death a little more readily. Yet,ere is still the question of my honourand that of

sselda. Yisselda!'

orian!' Again the bird's cry bore an uncanny re-

mblance to his wife's voice. He had heard that dying

n entertained such fancies. Perhaps for some it made

ath easier, but for him it made it that much harder.

orian! I thought I heard you speak. Are you near

? What has happened.'

wkmoon called back to the bird. 'I am in the

rsh, my love, and I am dying. Tell them that Hawk-on was not a traitor. Tell them he was not a coward.

ll them, instead, that he was a fool!'

e reeds near the bank began to rustle. Hawkmoon

oked towards them, expecting to see a fox. That would

terrible, to be attacked even as the mud dragged him

der. He shuddered.

d then there was a human face peering at him

rough the reeds. And it was a face he recognised.

aptain?'



26/94


y lord,' said Captain Josef Vedla. Then his face

rned away as he spoke to someone behind him. 'You

re right, my lady. He is here. And almost completely

der.' A brand flared as Vedla extended it out as far

he could stretch, peering at Hawkmoon to see just

w far he was buried. 'Quickly, menthe rope.'

am pleased to see you, Captain Vedla. Is my lady

sselda with you, too?'

am, Dorian.' Her voice was tense. 'I found Captain

dla and he took me to the tavern where Czernik was.

was Czernik who told us that you had ventured into

e marsh. So we gathered what men we could and came

find you.'

am grateful,' said Hawkmoon, 'though I should not

ve been if I had not acted so foolishlyugh!' The

d had reached his mouth.

rope was flung towards him. With his free right

nd he just managed to grasp it and stick his wrist

rough the loop.

ull away,' he said, and groaned as the noose tight-

ed on his wrist and he felt as if his arm were being

agged from its socket.

owly his body emerged from the mud, which was

luctant to give up its feast, until he was able to sit

sping on the bank while Yisselda, careless that he

s covered in the slimy, stinking stuff from head to

e, embraced him, sobbing. 'We thought you dead.'

thought myself dead,' he said. 'Instead I have killed

e of my best horses. I deserve to die.'

ptain Vedla was looking nervously about him. Un-

ke the guardians who were Kamarg bred, he had never

en much attracted to the marsh, even in daylight.

saw the fellow who calls himself Count Brass.'

wkmoon addressed Captain Vedla.

nd you killed him, my lord?'

wkmoon shook his head. 'I think he's some play-

tor who bears a strong resemblance to Count Brass.

t he is not Count Brassliving or deadof that I'm

most certain. He's too young, for one thing. And he

s not been properly educated in his part. He does not

ow the name of his daughter. He knows nothing of

e Kamarg. Yet, I think, there is no malice in the fel-

w. He might be mad, but more likely he's been mes-

rised into believing that he is Count Brass. Some

rk Empire trouble-makers, I'd guess, out to discredit

and avenge themselves at the same time.'

dla looked relieved. 'At least I will have some-

ing to tell the gossip-mongers,' he said. 'But this fellow



27/94


st have had a startling resemblance to the old Count

he deceived Czernik.'

yehe was everythingexpressions, gestures and

on. But there is something a little vague about his

nneras if he is in a dream. That is what led me to

spect that he is not, himself, acting maliciously but has

en put up to this by others.' Hawkmoon got up.

here is this impostor now?' Yisselda asked.

e disappeared into the marsh. I was following him

t too great a speedwhen this happened to me.'

wkmoon laughed. 'I had become so worried, you

ow, that I thought for a moment he really had dis-

pearedlike a ghost.'

sselda smiled. 'You can have my horse,' she said. 'I

ll ride on your lap, as I have done more than once

fore.'

d in a much relaxed mood the small party returned

Castle Brass.

the next morning the story of Dorian Hawkmoon's

counter with the 'play-actor' had spread through-

t the town and among the ambassadorial guests in the

stle. It had become a joke. Everyone was relieved to

able to laugh, to mention it without danger of giv-

g offence to Hawkmoon. And the festivities went on,

owing wilder as the wind blew stronger. Hawkmoon,

w that he had nothing to fear for his honour, de-

ded to make the false Count Brass wait for a day or

o and this he did, throwing himself completely into

e merry-making.

t then, one morning at breakfast, while Hawkmoond his guests decided on their plans for that day, young

nson of Shkarlan came down with a letter in his

nd. The letter bore many seals and looked most im-

essive. 'I received this today, my lord,' said Lonson.

t came by ornithopter from Londra. It is from the

een herself.'

ews from Londra. Splendid.' Hawkmoon accepted

e letter and began to break the seals. 'Now, Prince

nson, sit and break your fast while I read.'

ince Lonson smiled and, at Yisselda's suggestion,

t beside the lady of the castle, helping himself to aeak from the platter before him.

wkmoon began to read Queen Flana's letter. There

s general news of the progress of her schemes for

rming large areas of her nation. These seemed to be

ing well. Indeed, in some cases they had surpluses

ich they were able to trade with Normandia and

noveria, whose own farming was going well, too. But

was towards the end of the letter that Hawkmoon

gan to give it more attention.

nd so we come to the only unpleasant detail of



28/94


is letter, my dear Dorian. It seems that my

forts to rid my country of reminders of its dark

st have not been entirely successful. Mask-wear-

g has sprung up again. There has been some

tempt, I gather, to re-form some of the old Beast

dersparticularly the Order of the Wolf of

ich, you will recall, Baron Meliadus was Grand

ster. Some of my own agents have, upon oc-

sions, been able to disguise themselves as mem-

rs of the cult and gain entry to meetings. Anth is sworn which might amuse you (I hope, in-

ed, that it will not disturb you!)as well as

earing to bring back the Dark Empire in all its

ory, to oust me from my throne and to destroy

l those loyal to me, they also swear vengeance

on you and your family. Those who survived

e Battle of Londra, they say, must all be wiped

t. In your secure Kamarg, I doubt if you are in

ch danger from a few Granbretanian dissidents,

I advise you to continue to sleep well! I know

r certain that these secret cults are not much pop-

ar and only flourish in those parts of Londra

t yet rebuilt. The great majority of the people

ristocrats and commoners alikehave taken

ppily to rural life and to parliamentary govern-

nt. It was our old way to rule thus, when Gran-

etan was sane. I hope that we are sane again

d that, soon, even those few pockets of insanity

ll be cleansed from our society. One other pecu-

ar rumour, which my agents have been unable to

rify, is that some of the worst of the Dark Em-

re lords are still alive somewhere and waiting

resume their "rightful place as rulers of Gran-

etan". I cannot believe thisit seems to be a

pical legend invented by the disinherited. There

st be a thousand heroes sleeping in caves all

er Granbretan alone, waiting to spring to some-

dy's assistance when the time is ripe (why is it

ver ripe, I wonder!). To be on the safe side, my

ents are trying to find the source of these ru-

urs, but several, I regret to say, have already

ed as the cultists discover their true identities. It

ould take several months, but I think we shall

on be completely rid of the mask-wearers, par-

cularly since the dark places they prefer to in-

bit are being torn down very rapidly indeed.'

s there disturbing news in Flana's letter?' Yisselda

ked her husband as he folded the parchment.

shook his head. 'Not really. It just fits with some-

ing that I heard recently. She says that mask-wearing

s sprung up again in Londra.'

ut that is bound to happen for a while, surely? Is it

despread?'

pparently not.'

ince Lonson laughed. 'There is surprisingly little of



29/94


, my lady, I assure you. Most of the ordinary people

re only too pleased to rid themselves of uncomfort-

le masks and heavy clothes. This is true, too, of the

bilitysave for the few who were members of war-

or-castes and still survived (happily there were not

ny).'

lana says that there are rumours of some of the

ime movers among them still being alive,' said Hawk-

on quietly.

mpossible. You slew Baron Meliadus himselfsplit,

ke of Koln, from shoulder to groin!'

e or two of the other guests looked rather put out

Prince Lonson's remark. He apologised profusely.

ount Brass,' he continued, 'despatched Adaz Promp

d several more. Shenegar Trott you also slew, in

ark, before the Runestaff. And the othersMikose-

ar, Nankenseen and the restall are dead. Taragorm

ed in an explosion and Kalan killed himself. What

hers are left?'

wkmoon frowned. 'All I can think of are Taragorm

d Kalan,' he said. 'They are the only two whose

aths were unwitnessed.'

ut Taragorm died in an explosion of Kalan's battle-

chine. None could have survived it.'

ou are right.' Hawkmoon smiled. 'It is silly to

eculate like this. There are better things to do.'

d again he turned his attention to the day's fes-

vities.

t that night, he knew, he would ride out to then and confront the one who called himself Count

ass.

APTER FOUR

COMPANY OF THE DEAD

us it was at sunset that Dorian Hawkmoon, Duke of

ln, Lord Guardian of the Kamarg, rode out again

on the winding marsh roads, deep into his domain,

tching the scarlet flamingoes wheel, seeing the herds

white bulls and horned horses in the distance, like

ouds of fast-flowing smoke passing through the greend tawny reeds, seeing the lagoons turned to pools of

ood by the red and sinking sun. Breathing the sharp

r borne by the mistral, and coming at last to a small

ll on which stood a ruin of immense agea ruin

ound which ivy, purple and amber, climbed. And

ere, as the last rays of the sun died, Dorian Hawk-

on dismounted from his horned horse and waited for

ghost to come.

e wind tugged at his high-collared cloak. It blew

his face and froze his lips. It made the hairs of his

rse's coat ripple like water. It keened across the



30/94


de, flat marshlands. And, as the day animals began

compose themselves for slumber, and before the

ght animals began to merge, there fell upon the great

marg a terrible stillness.

en the wind dropped. The reeds no longer rustled.

thing moved.

d Hawkmoon waited on.

ch later he heard the sound of a horse's hooves on

e damp marshland ground. A muffled sound. He

ached over to his left hip and loosened his broadsword

its scabbard. He was in armour now. Steel armour

ich had been made to fit every contour of his body.

brushed hair from his eyes and adjusted his plain

lmas plain as Count Brass's own. He threw back

e cloak from his shoulders so that it should not en-

mber his movements.

t there was more than one horseman approaching.

listened carefully. The moon was full tonight but the

ders came from the other side of the ruin and he could

e nothing of them. He counted. Four horsemen, by theund of it. Sothe impostor had brought allies. It had

en a trap, after all. Hawkmoon sought cover. The only

ver was in the ruin itself. Cautiously he moved

wards it, clambering over the old, worn stones until he

s certain that he was hidden from anyone who came

om either side of the hill. Only the horse betrayed

s presence.

e riders came up the hill. He could see them now,

silhouette. They rode their horses straight-backed.

ere was a pride in their stance. Who could they be?

wkmoon saw a glint of brass and knew that onethem was the false Count. But the other three wore

distinctive armour. They reached the top of the

ll and saw his horse.

heard the voice of Count Brass calling:

uke von Koln?'

wkmoon did not reply.

heard another voice. A languid voice. 'Perhaps he

s gone to relieve himself in yonder ruin?'

d, with a shock, Hawkmoon recognised that voiceo.

was the voice of Huillam D'Averc. Dead D'Averc,

o had died so ironically in Londra.

saw the figure approach, a handkerchief in one

nd, and he recognised the face, too. It was D'Averc's.

en Hawkmoon knew, terrifyingly, who the other two

ders were.

ait for him. He said he'd come, did he not, Count

ass?' Bowgentle was speaking now.



31/94


ye. He said so.'

hen I hope he hurries, for this wind bites even

rough my thick pelt.' Oladahn's voice.

d Hawkmoon knew then that this was a nightmare,

ether he slept or whether he was awake. It was the

st painful experience of his life to see those who so

osely resembled his dead friends walking and talking

they had walked and talked in each other's company

me five years since. Hawkmoon would have given his

n life if it would have brought them back, but he

ew that it was impossible. No kind of resurrection

ug could revive one who, like Oladahn of the Bulgar

untains, had been torn to pieces and those pieces

attered. And there were no signs of wounds on the

hers, either.

shall catch a chill, that's certainand die a second

me, perhaps.' This was D'Averc, typically thoughtful

r his own health, which was as robust as anyone's.

re these ghosts?

hat has brought us together, I wonder,' mused

wgentle. 'And to such a bleak and sunless world?

met once, I believe, Count Brassat Rouen, was it

t? At the Court of Hanal the White?'

believe so.'

y the sound of him, this Duke of Koln is worse

an Hanal for indiscriminate bloodletting. The only

ing we have in common, as far as I can tell, is that

shall all die by his hand if we do not kill him now. Yet, it is hard to believe . . .'

e suggested that we were the victims of a plot, astold you,' said Count Brass. 'It could be true.'

e are victims of something, that's certain,' said

Averc, blowing his nose delicately upon his lacey

ndkerchief. 'But I agree that it would be best to dis-

ss the matter with our murderer before we despatch

m. What if we kill him and nothing comes of itwe

main in this dreadful, gloomy place for eternitywith

m as a companion, for he'll be dead, too.'

ow did you come to die?' Oladahn asked almost

nversationally.

sordid deatha mixture of greed and jealousy

s my undoing. The greed was mine. The jealousy an-

her's.'

ou intrigue us all,' laughed Bowgentle.

mistress of mine was, it happened, married to an-

her gentleman. She was a splendid cookher range of

cipes was incredible, my friends, both at the stove

d in the bed, if you follow me. Well, I was staying

th her for a week while her husband was away at

urtthis was in Hanoveria where I myself had busi-



32/94


ss at the time. The week was splendid, but it came to

end, for her husband was due to return that night.

console me, my mistress cooked a splendid supper. A

iumph! She never cooked a better. There were snails

d soups and goulashes and little birds in exquisite

uces and souffleswell, I see I discomfort you and I

ologise . . . The meal, in short, was superb. I had

re than is good for one of my delicate health and

en I begged my mistress while there was still time to

vour me with her company in bed for just one short

ur, since her husband was not due back for two.th some reluctance she agreed. We fell into bed. We

unded off the meal in ecstasy. We fell asleep. So fast

leep, I might add, that we were only awakened by

r husband shaking us awake!'

nd he killed you, eh?' said Oladahn.

n a manner of speaking. I leapt up. I had no sword.

had no cause to kill him, either, of course, since he

s the injured party (and I've a strong sense of jus-

ce). Up I jumped and out of the window I dashed.

clothes. Lots of rain. Five miles back to my owndgings. Result, of course, pneumonia.'

michael moorcock - castle brass 1 - count brass

Documents