“Say anymore, and I will reconsider laying charges against you. You are dismissed. Don’t let me see you in this office again.”
She turned and left, tears welling in her eyes, but was determined not to let him see her cry. Upon entering the waiting room, the aide handed her the official transfer orders. Damn Valmar, he had planned this all along. Orders in hand, she left, her anger overcoming her previous urge to cry.
Twenty
Summer in Wincaster
Summer 953 MC
The barracks of the Wincaster Light Horse were located halfway across the city from the Palace, and Beverly immediately understood why. It was a ramshackle building with a stable that looked like it would fall over in a mild wind. The barracks themselves were not much better, consisting of a plain wooden structure with little in the way of amenities.
Sergeant Hugh Gardner greeted her upon entry, and together, they inspected the facilities. From the moment she walked in, she realized that the interior was in as bad of shape as the exterior. She knew that she should not have been surprised, for this was more of a punishment than a true duty, but she was sorely disappointed by the state of the barracks. Frustrated with the situation she found herself in, she realized that it would not do to take it out on the men of the company. She was determined to familiarize herself with them, but it proved difficult. Whenever the army needed to send a message of any type, they would send for a rider and the light horse would provide one from their numbers, sending him on his way. This meant that the barracks were perpetually half empty, and those that were present remained here for only a short time.
On paper, the company numbered fifty men, but with many off on courier duties across the kingdom, and some residing in the town, there was simply no method in place to tell how many were available at any time. The next step was to address the men directly, but for that, she would have to have them assembled. She detailed Sergeant Gardner to collect the men for morning inspection on the morrow. She would then check those present against the payroll and find out who was missing. Following roll call would be an inspection of the quarters and the stables with the men in tow, perhaps between them all, they might figure out a way to improve their situation. It was going to be a lot of work, but she was determined to make a difference. Let Valmar think that he was punishing her; she would show him that she could make a positive change to this company.
* * *
The next morning revealed what she was dealing with when the men lined up on parade. They were a sorry looking lot, mostly older warriors who were invalided out of their regular units due to minor injuries or just plain old age. Their equipment varied remarkably, such that no two men had the same armour and weapon combination. She talked to each man in turn, learning their names and their past service. They were decent enough soldiers, thrown into this company as a last ditch effort to wrench some further service out of them. They were old and tired, and their morale was non-existent. Beverly was sure that with the right kind of support, they would make a fine company, but there was a considerable amount of work to be done.
Next, they did a walk-through of the barracks. She encouraged the men to talk honestly, and she found they all complained about the same things. The walls were drafty and the roof leaked. The stables were little better, and the horses billeted here were in a sad state, poorly groomed and badly fed.
With the inspection complete, they made their way to the yard; the small enclosed area that formed the parade ground. She organized the men into several groups based on their backgrounds. Some were handy with wood and these she tasked with repairs to the buildings. Others were more skilled with horses and these she detailed off with specific orders for the stables. The issue of equipment was another matter entirely, for a few of the men had their own weapons, but the company itself had very little to offer. She would have to come up with a way to make up the shortfall.
The easiest change to make was to create a duty roster. Beverly called each soldier into the office and recorded which cities they had been to in the past, in the service of their duties. She then made a list for each city, of riders that were familiar with the area. From now on, when a rider returned with a dispatch that was to go outside the city, they would report back to the barracks first, and a soldier familiar with the area would be tasked with the delivery. In this way, the messages would be routed more efficiently. She also ensured the men received their back pay, which was somewhat in arrears, due to the old captain leaving the company, and it being leaderless for a brief period of time.
Once she had the men settled, she needed to get to work on acquiring supplies. She dispatched Sergeant Gardner to Army Headquarters at the Palace with a request; a long list of items ranging from swords and light armour to wood and thatch. She didn’t expect much to come of it, but it was worth a try. Sergeant Gardner returned from the Palace with bad news; the army would not provide what they needed.
Determining that most of her men did not have basic horse care skills, she took it upon herself to personally organize the clean out of the stables. She created a rotating duty to make sure all the horses were groomed and fed regularly. Feeding this many horses proved to be difficult, due to food shortages from the poor harvest the previous year. The company had funds to buy grain, but it was scarce and expensive in the city, so she sent men out to the outlying farms to buy up any hay that might be available. Word soon got around and farmers starting bringing the hay to the barracks in return for easy coin.
One of the advantages of having old soldiers is that they know lots of people. She armed them with coins and sent them around to taverns near the other companies. They soon learned the truth; it was only the light horse that was being denied supplies. Marshal-General Valmar’s hand was behind this slight, but she hit upon a solution. One of her men had served with the Wincaster Foot, a unit of infantry billeted in the capital. It was a simple matter for him to obtain a copy of the captain’s signature, which she practised until she could duplicate it. A requisition was then written out with the good captain’s signature and sent to the Palace along with some imposters. Sure enough, they returned with the wood they needed and some decent new swords.
With the repairs soon underway, the buildings were looking much better. The soldiers were learning their horse craft, and within a fortnight, the horses showed a marked improvement. Once the repairs were complete, Beverly started training the men. Since their primary task was carrying dispatches, she began by improving their riding skills. Some were already quite proficient, and these she put to work helping the others. While this was going on, other riders returned from their trips to be introduced and interviewed. By the end of her first month with the light horse, she was making progress. The men were happier and began feeling a certain pride in their captain, the only woman to command a company in the kingdom.
* * *
It was on a particularly hot summer day that Beverly was standing in the centre of the yard, while six men rode in circles around her. She was watching their technique, making corrections when her attention was distracted by a horseman riding up to the barracks through the north entrance. She was about to reprimand the interloper when she recognized the rider.
“Father!” she said in delight.
“My dear,” he said, “so good to see you again. I dare say, you’ve been busy.”
“I've had to make the most of it,” she said with a smile. “Valmar won’t give me the time of day. How is everyone in Bodden?”
“They’re well. They send their kindest regards. Tell me what you’ve been up to,” he insisted.
She looked around at the barracks and smiled, “Tell you what,” she said, “let me show you.”
She led him around, introducing the men, giving him a tour of the work they had done. She was generous in her praise, and they responded in a heartfelt manner. They joked with her and her father and spoke highly of all the good she had done. Eventually, they made their way back to her office and sat down.
“Well,�
�� he said, “I see you’ve done well for yourself despite your…strange assignment.”
“I’m not going to let Valmar dampen my spirits,” she said, “and besides, these men deserve better. But enough about me. Tell me, what brings you to Wincaster? Shouldn’t you be in Bodden?”
“I must confess I came here to see you, my dear. I’ve missed you terribly. With you and Gerald both gone, I’ve had to spend a lot of time training up new patrol leaders.”
“What happened to Gerald?” she asked. “He was supposed to be healed by the Royal Life Mage.”
“I’m sorry to say that never happened. It appears the king is too possessive of his wizard to let others use his services. Once Valmar got his hands on Gerald, we couldn’t get him back.”
“So where is he now?” she asked.
“It appears he’s been assigned to the Wincaster Foot.”
It was Beverly’s turn to blush slightly. “Oh dear,” she said, “I’m afraid we might have stolen some of his supplies, I hope it doesn’t land him in trouble.”
Her father laughed, “I’m sure there’s no harm done. I’ve been up to the Palace, and I haven’t heard anything bad. I’m sure if Valmar figured it out, he’d be all over you. Don’t give it another thought.” He laughed and poured a drink, passing it to her over the table. “I hear there’s a food shortage.”
“Yes,” she agreed, “and there’s likely to be trouble in town because of it. The king has been hoarding food and, of course, he’s feeding the soldiers so they can put down any trouble. I’m afraid it might blow into something bigger if the crown isn’t careful.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said, sipping his wine. “I wouldn’t like to think about the slaughter that would occur if the king set the soldiers on the townsfolk, it could get nasty very quickly.”
“Agreed,” she said, “but let’s hope the king has more sense than that.”
They ended up talking well into the night, and she realized how much she missed her father. He left with a promise to return later in the week, and she retired for the evening.
* * *
Two days later, riots broke out in multiple areas in the city. The army was called in, with units dispatched to block the rioters off from the richer sections of town. The light horse was running dispatches throughout the city, and with the increased number of messages, Beverly knew that something was about to happen. She soon heard the reports, and it was not good news. A mass of rioters had ransacked businesses along Walpole Street, and a troop of infantry had been sent to block their way. Fighting had erupted between the two sides, resulting in a general slaughter. The captain of the company was killed in the fighting, and the Palace was on the verge of recalling all their companies home to suppress the rebellion. The whole city held their breath, but thank Saxnor, the riots subsided. Perhaps the slaughter had been enough, or perhaps the threat of the army had convinced them of the futility of their actions. After three more days passed without riots, the populace breathed a collective sigh of relief.
The messages grew less frequent, and life began to return to normal. She was back to watching the men drill with their swords when her father next visited, this time on foot.
“Have you got time to spare?” he enquired.
“Of course, Father. I’ll get Sergeant Gardner to carry on with the training.” She made the necessary arrangements and then walked toward her office, her father in tow.
“What is it?” she said, once they were out of earshot.
“I was wondering if you might be available for something tomorrow?”
“I can be,” she offered. “What is it you need me for?”
“I’ve arranged a special meeting with some important people, and I’d like you to be there.”
“This sounds awfully mysterious,” she observed.
“Oh, it’s very important. I’d like you there in your armour if it’s not too much trouble.”
Her face turned serious, “Of course, Father. When will you need me?”
“I’ll meet you here just after lunch, and we’ll walk over to the Palace together.”
“You’re meeting them at the Palace rather than the manor house? How important are these people?”
“I’d rather not say more at this time; I’ll explain it to you tomorrow."
“Very well, I’ll be ready,” she said.
He left her deep in thought. She couldn’t help but wonder what her father was getting her into, but knew he was a man who planned things very carefully. She would have to wait to see who these mysterious men were.
* * *
Her father had impressed on her the importance of the meeting, so she spent the morning cleaning her armour. She would leave her helmet behind, for it was the custom at the Palace not to wear them. They met at the barracks, walking in silence most of the way. Her father was rubbing his beard, his habit when deep in thought and she didn’t want to disturb him.
Upon arriving at the Palace, they went into the west wing where the army offices were located. He had arranged for a private room to be made available, with drinks and cups waiting inside.
“I’m not sure how long it will be before my visitors arrive,” he said at last. “Will you take up a position in the hallway and let me know when they make their appearance? I have to think over a few things before they get here.”
“Certainly, Father,” she said, taking up a guard position outside the door.
She was only waiting a few moments before the door opened and her father was standing in the doorway.
“Beverly,” he said, “Come inside a moment, I need to talk to you.”
“Yes, Father,” she replied, stepping into the room. “What is it?”
She saw his face had a faraway look; he was carefully framing his words, she had seen this before.
“I am about to have a meeting with Lord Barrington and Lord Montrose,” he said. “You know of them?"
"Yes," she replied. "Barrington is one of the king’s advisor's and Montrose is the Earl of Shrewesdale, one of the king’s strongest supporters."
"No doubt by now you would have heard of the massacre at Walpole Street?" he enquired.
"Yes, though I don't know all the details."
"Tell me what you know," he gently prompted.
"Lord Walters lost his head and let the troops massacre the townsfolk. If he had not died in the assault, they would have dismissed him!" Her disgust was evident.
"Well, that's true, but it looks like his family wants a scapegoat, someone to blame for the blunder."
She knew the captain was killed and wondered who might shoulder the blame.
He paused for a moment as if trying to find the right words. Finally, he sighed and spoke, “They want to blame his sergeant, Gerald Matheson.”
Beverly was shocked. "No, that can't be!" she said. "You know he would never condone such a thing!"
"You and I both know that Gerald Matheson would never support such action,” he said, “but I'm afraid that they want a scapegoat. This meeting, I hope, will avoid any public humiliation for him, but I fear his military days are over."
"But that's not fair! He served you for years, for Saxnor’s sake! He trained me, taught me to use a sword! He's been a mentor to me!"
“I know that, and believe me when I say I will do everything I can for him. I owe him much. Save for his wound; I would have kept him on at Bodden. The King’s Life Mage could have been more cooperative and healed him, then he would have been returned to us, but you know how the king is. Wants to keep all the magic to himself. I sent him here to recuperate, with letters to Marshal-General Valmar to ask for his intervention, but to no avail. Instead, he assigned him to this local company, and now we have to deal with the results."
She sneered at the name Valmar, and it didn’t escape the notice of her father.
"You must learn to hide your emotions, my dear. Valmar is a powerful friend of the king."
"Valmar is incompetent," she interjected. "We both
know that you should have been made marshal-general."
"Be thankful I was not," he replied, "or Bodden would be someone else's responsibility, and the north would have surely fallen by now.”
She knew he spoke the truth, but still felt he had been overlooked. "So what is it you want me to do?"
"I want you to be present for the meeting, stand inside the door, just observe and listen. One day you will succeed me, and you need to be able to handle yourself diplomatically."
She scoffed at the thought. "I cannot inherit the title, Father. You know that!"
"True," he replied, "but when you marry, your husband will inherit the title. Everyone at Bodden respects you, and they’ll do as you say. Marry a weak-minded man, and you will control the barony!"
She smiled; her father always had a nice way of wording things.
"Now," he continued, "take your position outside the door. When they arrive, show them in and remain inside the room rather than returning to the hallway. They will probably ignore you, but it will keep them on their best behaviour."
"Because I'm a woman?" she asked, already starting to bristle.
"No, because you're a witness!"
She returned to her station in the hall and stood silent. In her mind there was a lot at stake here; she didn’t want to see Gerald suffer because of an inept captain. The thought made her analyze her own position, was she a capable captain? A year ago she wouldn’t have doubted it for a moment, but now, with recent events still in her mind, she wasn’t so sure of herself.
She saw two people approaching the room. They were dressed richly and could only be the expected guests. Before she could say anything, they announced themselves.
“The Earl of Shrewesdale and Lord Barrington to see the baron,” the older of the two proclaimed.
“If you’ll allow me, Your Grace,” she said, opening the door.
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