Gates to Glory: Epic Fantasy Adventure Tale (Ashurran #1)

2.10. Matholwy the Bullhorn

The army of the Kiarany king was hard pressed. The barbarians came from the mountains like an avalanche, which never ceased. In the place of every barbarian killed there came a dozen more. The king's army was dwindling, like a glacier thawing away under the cold mountain sun: drop by drop, yet relentlessly.

So many centurions and millenaries were killed in action, the Kiarany started to appoint women in their place, which almost never happened before. Women fought fiercely for their land, being as good in battle as any other man, and won respect and renown among their brothers-in-arms. The most renowned of them was Ashurran, who had been consumed with hatred and vengeance ever since the death of her three lovers.

Meanwhile the war dragged on, and there was no end in sight. The High King of Yunan decided to send one of his generals with a big host to the kingdom of Kiaran.

Matholwy the Bullhorn, the general of the High King, was a tall and stalwart man, his limbs like tree trunks, his chest like a shield for a siege machine, his voice loud like a hunting-horn. Some said that was the reason why he got his nickname, the Bullhorn. Others argued that it was because he always had on him a huge bull's horn inlaid with silver. That horn was not for blowing it in battle, for Matholwy boasted his own voice was quite enough for that purpose. That horn was for filling it to the brim with the best ale at a feast, and Matholwy would gulp it all in one breath.

Others said the reason for calling him the Bullhorn was that he could tear a horn from a bull's head with his bare hands. His true story was as follows. At the age of ten Matholwy was a small and sickly child. One day he took a newborn bull-calf on his shoulders and carried him all the way up the stairs of a watchtower, and then down again. From that day on he had been doing it every day, sometimes twice a day. The bull-calf grew, and Matholwy's strength with him. At the age of fifteen he easily lifted an adult bull on his shoulders and carried him to the top of the tower. That kind of a man was Matholwy, the general of the High King!

He was renowned not only for the strength of his body, but for the sharpness of his mind also, and for the fierceness of his martial spirit. Many battles he fought and won for his king. Among other deeds, he was known to subdue the warlike tribes of the island of Belg and make them pay a king's tribute in gold, silver, weapons and furs. The Belgs and Tharns and other tribes of Belg praised courage and audacity above everything else. They found him so much after their own heart that they bore no grudge against him, and gladly feasted with him and went hunting together.

After his arrival in Kiaran Matholwy ordered its army gathered and went to review its strength. As he was riding by the ranks, he noticed Ashurran clad in the crimson cloak of a millenary, and said,

"It would seem things are in a really bad way in Kiaran, if they accept mere girls into the army. Where did you get your fancy red cloak, my dear? Did your lover happen to left it behind in your tent?"

Ashurran didn't bat an eyelid and answered lightly,

"It was white before, just got soaked in the enemy's blood."

It should be said that the white cloaks were only for the kings and their generals to wear.

Matholwy smiled at her arrogance and rode closer. He said, more amiably this time,

"For what service exactly was the rank of millenary bestowed upon you? By any chance, it wasn't you who single-handedly defended the Aessilt ford, was it?"

"It was me indeed. But nay, after I had single-handedly defended the Aessilt ford, I was made centurion. And the rank of millenary was bestowed upon me after I killed the Shighuns' chief Akhsargata in single combat."