protection and no king dare molest them."
His men were shooting at long-range targets, arching their shafts so high that they looked like fowlers shooting at birds. "First," Guyak advised, "try that target." He pointed at a cloth-covered bale some one hundred paces distant. "That is one we train boys on."
Conan selected an arrow and laid its nock to the string. The easterners shot on the right side of the bow, whereas the westerners shot on the left side. Shooting in the eastern way was swifter when riding, for the string hand did not have to reach the arrow all the way around the bow in order to nock it.
He wrapped his horn-ringed thumb around the string and locked it with his forefinger. Slowly, testing the tension of the bow, he drew until the fletching of the arrow brushed his cheek. He loosed, and watched as the arrow sailed high over the target.
"You are not allowing for the power of the bow," Guyak said. "You must hold very low at such close range."
Close range! The Bossonians, best of the western bowmen, would have considered this a fair cast for a good archer. He tried again, and this time his arrow just caught the upper edge of the target. Ten shots later he was putting every arrow into the centre.
"You are beginning to get the feel of it," Guyak said. "Now try one at two hundred paces."
The process resumed. By the time the sun was past its zenith, he was hitting the three-hundred-pace targets more often than he missed. Guyak was impressed at such quick improvement by a mere foreigner.
"Enough for today," Conan said, unstringing the bow. "Tomorrow I begin practice from horseback. Gather the men now, and we shall portion them into tens."
For the next few hours Conan watched his fifty ride and perform various feats of horsemanship. All could stand in the saddle at a gallop; many could stand on their heads or hands. Most could grasp their mount's barrel with their legs and shoot beneath its belly or neck. All could unsaddle at a full gallop and transfer saddle, weapons and all, to another mount.
With Guyak's expert advice, he divided the men into five tens, making an equal distribution of excellence in riding, archery and other skills. Rustuf and Fawd each received command of a ten. Two other tens were put under experienced warriors. The remaining ten Conan kept as his personal command, with Guyak as his sub-commander.
As the long day drew to a close, the Cimmerian addressed his tired men. "Your riding and shooting please me well, but there is more than that to fighting. Tomorrow, after bow practice, we will drill hard with
the sword and lance. All of my men must be proficient with these weapons."
There were sour looks, but no complaints. The Hyrkanians had little regard for sword or lance, considering them useful mainly for cutting down or skewering enemies who were fleeing and not worth wasting arrows upon.
As he dismissed his men, Conan saw a lone figure approaching. All the Hyrkanians were superlative horsemen. With this one it was difficult to tell where the man ended and the horse began. It was with no surprise that he recognized Bartatua. The Kagan did not bother with an escort, nor with any weapon save his belted dagger.
"Greeting, Kagan," said Conan.
"Greeting, Cimmerian. I hear that you have taken charge of your command most efficiently."
"You have eyes and ears everywhere, Kagan," Conan observed.
Bartatua grinned. "Something all do well to remember. A Kagan who is blind and deaf is of little use to anyone. Attend me this evening at the feast I shall hold for my commanders. There are things I wish to discuss with you." The Kagan wheeled and rode away, leaving Conan to wonder why the greatest chieftain of Hyrkania wished to so honour a mere fifty-leader.
That evening's feast was no such elaborate event as the revel of the previous evening. The chiefs were seated in circles around the dais of Bartatua, and Conan found himself occupying a place at the periphery, his. back against the supporting
His men were shooting at long-range targets, arching their shafts so high that they looked like fowlers shooting at birds. "First," Guyak advised, "try that target." He pointed at a cloth-covered bale some one hundred paces distant. "That is one we train boys on."
Conan selected an arrow and laid its nock to the string. The easterners shot on the right side of the bow, whereas the westerners shot on the left side. Shooting in the eastern way was swifter when riding, for the string hand did not have to reach the arrow all the way around the bow in order to nock it.
He wrapped his horn-ringed thumb around the string and locked it with his forefinger. Slowly, testing the tension of the bow, he drew until the fletching of the arrow brushed his cheek. He loosed, and watched as the arrow sailed high over the target.
"You are not allowing for the power of the bow," Guyak said. "You must hold very low at such close range."
Close range! The Bossonians, best of the western bowmen, would have considered this a fair cast for a good archer. He tried again, and this time his arrow just caught the upper edge of the target. Ten shots later he was putting every arrow into the centre.
"You are beginning to get the feel of it," Guyak said. "Now try one at two hundred paces."
The process resumed. By the time the sun was past its zenith, he was hitting the three-hundred-pace targets more often than he missed. Guyak was impressed at such quick improvement by a mere foreigner.
"Enough for today," Conan said, unstringing the bow. "Tomorrow I begin practice from horseback. Gather the men now, and we shall portion them into tens."
For the next few hours Conan watched his fifty ride and perform various feats of horsemanship. All could stand in the saddle at a gallop; many could stand on their heads or hands. Most could grasp their mount's barrel with their legs and shoot beneath its belly or neck. All could unsaddle at a full gallop and transfer saddle, weapons and all, to another mount.
With Guyak's expert advice, he divided the men into five tens, making an equal distribution of excellence in riding, archery and other skills. Rustuf and Fawd each received command of a ten. Two other tens were put under experienced warriors. The remaining ten Conan kept as his personal command, with Guyak as his sub-commander.
As the long day drew to a close, the Cimmerian addressed his tired men. "Your riding and shooting please me well, but there is more than that to fighting. Tomorrow, after bow practice, we will drill hard with
the sword and lance. All of my men must be proficient with these weapons."
There were sour looks, but no complaints. The Hyrkanians had little regard for sword or lance, considering them useful mainly for cutting down or skewering enemies who were fleeing and not worth wasting arrows upon.
As he dismissed his men, Conan saw a lone figure approaching. All the Hyrkanians were superlative horsemen. With this one it was difficult to tell where the man ended and the horse began. It was with no surprise that he recognized Bartatua. The Kagan did not bother with an escort, nor with any weapon save his belted dagger.
"Greeting, Kagan," said Conan.
"Greeting, Cimmerian. I hear that you have taken charge of your command most efficiently."
"You have eyes and ears everywhere, Kagan," Conan observed.
Bartatua grinned. "Something all do well to remember. A Kagan who is blind and deaf is of little use to anyone. Attend me this evening at the feast I shall hold for my commanders. There are things I wish to discuss with you." The Kagan wheeled and rode away, leaving Conan to wonder why the greatest chieftain of Hyrkania wished to so honour a mere fifty-leader.
That evening's feast was no such elaborate event as the revel of the previous evening. The chiefs were seated in circles around the dais of Bartatua, and Conan found himself occupying a place at the periphery, his. back against the supporting
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