Feric's body stiffened with pride and resolution as he stood there deep in the ancestral heartland, a figure of resolute nobility, larger somehow than life, a hero transcendent, outlined in fire.
5
From the outset, Feric had determined that it would be neither wise nor appropriate for him to slink into Walder unannounced like any common traveler; when he entered the city it must be done with proper heralding and sufficient flourish. This'meant that first of all he must secure his position as unquestioned leader of the party, that secondly 76
changes in nomenclature and style must be made, and that finally his ragged troop of motorcyclists must be properly outfitted and drilled and decked out with new Party uniforms and colors of sufficient dash. Only then would he enter Walder at the head of the Knights of the Swastika.
Therefore, he had commanded Bogel to rent a meeting place of sufficient size and isolation and summon the Party notables thence. Bogel had rented an empty hunting lodge situated on the flattened crest of a small mountain within the Emerald Wood but close to its northern margin, perhaps two hours by roadsteamer from Walder, which lay on the rolling plain to the north. In order to reach the lodge, the Party leaders would have to traverse a long winding dirt road which climbed to the crest through thick groves and wild ravines, making their journey a matter of some psychological import. The lodge itself was a simple but impressive edifice: a long, low, one-story building of granite and mortar facing the rude courtyard where the dirt road ended, with a formal entrance trimmed with wood planking and set off with native trees and shrubbery. From this facade of the building, one looked down on an endless sea of woodland greenery, soothing to the eye, and comforting to the spirit.
Inside was a great common room flanked left and right by wings of sleeping cubicles sufficient to accommodate several-score men. This hunting lodge, empty in this season as it was, suited Feric's purpose ideally. It was close enough to the city to facilitate the necessary preparations while isolated enough to assure secrecy. Moreover, the very act of summoning these urban fellows to such a rustic setting served notice upon them as to the measure of unquestioning loyalty their new leader required of them.
Further, it deprived them of whatever psychological advantage they might have gained from meeting Feric on their home ground. Iron control must be established at the outset.
Feric chose to receive the Party leadership in the great hall itself. The walls of this chamber were naked stone and the floor was rough wooden planking. A ring of torches up near the base of the high vaulted stone ceiling augmented the afternoon light, and a hearty fire blazed in the great fireplace built into the west wall. The walls themselves were decorated with antlers, stags' heads, rifles, bows, spears, truncheons, and various other paraphernalia of the hunter's calling.
77
In the center of the room was a large oaken table covered with a cloth of red velvet upon which the Great Truncheon of Held rested in all its gleaming splendor; rows of plain chain had been set up along the long sides of the table. Feric himself sat at the head of the table on a chair slightly higher than the others facing the entrance to the hall. Behind him, the doors to a rude balcony had been flung open, revealing a breathtaking view across the northern fringes of the Wood. and the rolling plain beyond, neatly divided up into a checkerboard of freehold farms; Walder itself shimmered like a spectral city on the bare edge of visibility.
A dozen Knights of the Swastika, still attired in their barbaric splendor, stood 'guard at strategic points around the room while Bogel, Stopa, and six more ex-Avengers met the roadsteamer in the courtyard. Feric himself had donned a brown hunter's tunic of exaggerated austerity which was sure to stand out from whatever the others might wear due to its utter lack of adornment.
All in all, it seemed to Feric that he had prepared a proper welcome.
As he had ordered, Stopa knocked loudly on the heavy wooden door, formally requesting entrance. Feric gave the order, and one of 'the Knights flanking the door opened it with a somewhat ragged flourish, albeit more or less in the spirit which he had been taught. Bogel and Stopa led in an altogether motley crew of middle-aged, somewhat pallid, and not a little threadbare creatures, a half dozen of them in all. The best that could be said of these nabobs of the Human Renaissance Party was that they were clearly examples of the pure human genotype and projected a certain aura of dogged if forlorn determination. Beside Stopa and the six sturdy, high-spirited ex-Avengers who brought up the rear of the group, the Party leadership cut a sony spectacle. As the men approached him, Feric felt a fleeting pang of annoyance at the caliber of the material he was expected to lead.
