by Duncan Lay
Nola nodded and wiped away a small tear. “It will be fine, I know it will,” she said briskly.
“And one day it will be. We shall steer Gaelland through this and then call for a new Ruling Council. We’ll go back to Baltimore and bore our grandchildren stupid with tales of what we did,” Bridgit promised.
*
“You didn’t have to come with me. You could have stayed back in the castle with the others,” Fallon said lightly.
Brendan grimaced.
“What, don’t tell me you’ve got shagger’s back and need a rest?” Devlin asked with a grin.
Brendan held up his scarred fist. “I don’t know about shagger’s back but you’ll be eating gruel for a moon through a broken jaw if you don’t shut up,” he growled.
Devlin chuckled, then caught sight of the expression on the smith’s face. “Aroaril, it was just a silly joke! You kept pestering me to make them before and now you’re threatening to knock my head off. There’s no pleasing some people!”
Fallon nudged his horse over, pushing Devlin out of the way so he was riding next to Brendan.
“What is it? Now that Nola and the girls are back, I didn’t think you’d be so eager to really punch Devlin,” he asked softly.
Brendan glared at him but Fallon said nothing, just watched his friend and finally the smith cracked. “I was glad to get away,” he said finally. “I hate that look that gets in Nola’s eyes and the way my girls act around me. It’s almost as if they think I might hurt them.”
“They know you’d never do that. You’d tear the head off anyone who came near them, but that’s all,” Fallon said stoutly.
“All I know is what I see and I see fear in their eyes when they look at me. It’s like I’m a stranger to them,” he said miserably.
“Aroaril knows I need you but, if you have to, throw away that hammer,” Fallon said.
Brendan hefted his stained hammer in his scarred hands. “But I don’t want to put it down,” he said softly. “I’ve never felt so alive as when we are fighting. Seeing men run away from me and feeling that power run through my arms – I have never known anything like it. I enjoy it when men walk around me, back away from me. They never did that before.”
Fallon looked over at Devlin and the farmer grimaced back at him.
“The day will come when you want to put the hammer down,” Fallon said. “Just make sure that Nola is still there when it comes. She loves you, man. Aroaril, she wouldn’t have stayed with such a useless lump for so long otherwise.”
Brendan looked at him sideways and for a moment Fallon also felt a thrill of fear at the fire in the smith’s eyes, and then Brendan relaxed.
“Thank you, my friends,” he rumbled.
“Well, is anyone going to ask me about how happy I am?” Gallagher asked.
“Don’t want to hear it,” Devlin said immediately. “And I hope you get shagger’s back as well.”
Their laughter was interrupted by Casey riding down the column of marching men towards them. “This can’t be good,” Gallagher said.
Fallon ignored him and waited for the young officer to slow his horse down.
“There’s a village up ahead but it’s like Baltimore or Killarney all over again. Almost all the people have gone and they say Rexford is gone as well.”
“The town?”
“No, sir. The Count. He and his guards left in the middle of the night, just vanished, according to the men we spoke to. People are fleeing in all directions, thinking it is the selkies and the witches come back. The ones that are left don’t know what to do. With nobody to give them orders, they are sitting around doing nothing.”
Fallon glanced around at his friends. “We’d better see what’s happening,” he said.
*
But talking to the handful of remaining people at the village of Mallow made nothing seem any clearer. They had tried to send their usual tithe off to the county seat of Rexford but discovered the place was in an uproar, with rumors flying about. The Count was definitely gone but nobody else seemed to know what to do.
“Right. We need to go there and see what is happening,” Fallon said. “Casey, escort the Kottermanis south and then get back to us as fast as you can.”
The two Kottermani leaders, Nazim and Mahir, were summoned and they listened sourly to Fallon’s words.
“You have oats and barley enough for the winter and there will be boats for fishing, as well as birds, hares and squirrels that can be trapped in the woods around. You can use the empty houses for your men to keep warm and build whatever other shelter you need. We shall leave no guards, but our wizard will be watching you always and if you harm anyone, then we shall inflict double the hurt on your Prince Kemal, understand? You can use the sailing boats though if you try to sail away, not only will you die but Prince Kemal will suffer.”
Neither spoke good Gaelish and Fallon had no Kottermani so he had to repeat several things before they understood.
“And if we do this, will you free us in the spring?” Nazim asked.
“That is up to your Emperor,” Fallon said. “But we do not wish you harm.”
Both Kottermanis sniffed at that but Fallon had no time to waste with them. Casey and a score of mounted men went with them, while Fallon turned the rest of the column towards Rexford.
“Do you think the Kottermanis will keep their word and stay out of trouble?” Gallagher asked.
“I hope so. But we have bigger worries,” Fallon said. “My guess is that Rexford has fled to join Swane. If all the nobles in the west have done it as well, we could have a real problem.”
“Pack of useless guards. We destroyed Kelty and his men and they were better than any scum from Rexford, or Rork or the other places,” Brendan snorted.
“But it’s going to make Swane more confident and if he gets over here and calls out the fyrd, we’re going to face a lot of men, most of whom we don’t want to hurt,” Fallon said. “So let’s get to Rexford and have a look.”
“What are we going to find there?” Devlin asked.
“Trouble,” Gallagher predicted.
*
As the folk of Mallow had warned, Rexford was in uproar.
With the local noble and his guards gone, some people had taken the opportunity to gain a measure of revenge on his former favorites, while others simply saw the chance to steal things. A small crowd was ransacking the Count’s manor house when Fallon showed up but they scattered like rats in torchlight when the soldiers arrived.
By then it was too late of course and Fallon, who had spent his whole career catching thieves, was in no mood for mercy.
“Find me one who looks like they know what’s going on, then give the rest a thrashing and send them back home,” he ordered. “And Dev, get into the Count’s study and see if you can find anything useful.”
“You were looking perhaps for a nice chair?” Devlin asked, then caught sight of Fallon’s face and hurried off.
Brendan dragged over a weasel of a man and Fallon was about to order him thrown away and given a quick beating when he caught sight of the man’s eyes. They were just as cunning as the animal he so resembled.
“Tell me what has happened here. Answer me true and you could get out of here with your skin intact. Try to play me false and you will be limping for a moon.”
The man glanced at Brendan, who stared implacably back at him and gave an ingratiating smile.
“What do you want to know?” he asked, his voice coarse.
Despite looking as though he lived in the hedges rather than the town, he confirmed everything that the people of Mallow had heard, and added a little more. He was called Desmond and claimed to have seen the Count and his men ride out of town, to a copse of oak trees about five miles away. Then they had simply disappeared, not coming out again. Once that information spread through the town, everyone started thinking about themselves and settling old scores.
“It will be a hard winter and the Count took as much of his winter stores
as his men could carry with him,” Desmond explained. “Folk need to survive somehow.”
Once he was sure Desmond had nothing further to add, he had Brendan send him on his way with a huge boot up the backside and went in to the wreckage of the Count’s home to see what was left.
“Dev, tell me you found something,” he invited.
“The Count had a nice fire before he left. Looks like a whole bunch of letters and suchlike. There wasn’t a scrap of parchment left whole in the place,” the farmer reported, no trace of a jest now. “He probably left some food behind in his winter storerooms but these thieving rats have cleaned it out. There’s nothing left.”
Fallon rubbed his face.
“Right. We’ll clean up the town and round up the food and take it to the church. We’ll leave ten men to keep an eye on it and move on. We have to see if the rest of the country is like this.”
*
They tidied up Rexford, using speed and numbers to cow the townsfolk. Stolen food, much of it still in casks and sacks bearing the crest of Rexford, was uncovered and stacked in the church and he had the thieves do all the work, all under the lash of his men.
The three priests in the town were all young, the result of Rosaleen taking over the church. Most of the older priests, the ones who had grown rich under old Archbishop Kynan and by supporting the corrupt nobles, had been moved on – or had left of their own accord, unable to stomach doing what they were supposed to.
Fallon left them ten men, all he dared spare, but the priests also summoned a score of townsfolk: steady, sensible men who had not joined in the rioting but kept their families safe. Fallon hoped it would be enough. The place seemed quiet enough when they rode out, but then it had probably been quiet when the Count fled, as well.
He needed Bridgit and her scribes to come in and ration the remaining food out but at least the priests could be trusted until then.
His men marched swiftly through the frozen countryside, the way they had with Duchess Dina, what seemed like a lifetime ago. Unlike last time, they had to find shelter each night because of the freezing cold. The days were little warmer, the weak sun unable to warm anything up. And that was when the sun shone at all. Often they marched under thick cloud and drizzling rain and, once, through flurries of snow. And they found cold comfort in Eastmeath, Rork, Kenkilly and the other towns. Just like Rexford, the nobles had fled with their guards and the place was in chaos. Fallon restored order as best he could but it was obvious that many of these towns were going to run short of food before the winter was out. That was bad enough but Fallon knew worse was to come.
*
“What now?” Gallagher asked, as they marched out of Kenkilly. “You look as though you have the weight of the world on your shoulders. Come on, man, you’ve been bloody mysterious these past few days, wandering around with a face like a thundercloud. Tell us what you’re thinking.”
Fallon glanced around at his friends, saw their expressions and sighed. “I fear Padraig is right. Swane is planning to use magic to get over the Spine and attack us.”
“But would he be so mad? Surely those guards are just to protect him from our attack in the spring?” Devlin said.
“He’s a mad bastard, the son of a madder bastard and infected by Zorva. He will come for us, I feel it,” Fallon said. “He will come for me.”
“What do we do?” Brendan rumbled.
Fallon scratched his head, forcing himself not to think of Aidan’s dying words: that his choices would doom them all. He had to make a decision now, because waiting any longer could be fatal.
“Gall, ride back to Berry and warn the others. We need to find more men from somewhere because we’re going to be stretched damn thin. We have to keep an eye on Berry while we take our best soldiers and march them towards the Spine. Swane might be able to get over there but his men will suffer. They will need to rest and eat before marching on Berry. We have to find out where Swane is putting his camp up, then take all his supplies and make him follow us to a place where we can destroy him.”
“And where’s that?” Devlin asked.
“I haven’t decided yet,” Fallon said, although he was lying. He just did not want to say it. Lake Caragh had loomed large in his thoughts since he first feared Swane was coming over the Spine for him. In truth, he had fought there a hundred times with Kerrin, endless battles on the floor of their Baltimore home. Things had been so much simpler then and he remembered those nights with a sharp pang. In winter it would be a very different beast. The marshes that he would like to use to trick and trap the horsemen that Swane was surely bringing would be frozen solid. But the lake itself would also be freezing over, which could be used … he gulped. This was not a game and they could not just set up the figures again afterwards.
CHAPTER 15
Dina held Swane’s arm proprietorially as she steered him out onto the common once more to see the results of the training.
She only had to make suggestions to Meinster now and he rushed to obey. Ryan was less malleable but he had been pushed to the side. There was only room for one voice in Swane’s life and she was it. That was vital, for once he was back on the throne he would be besieged by younger versions of herself, looking for their chance to be Queen. And he would also be looking for an heir, which she had little chance of providing. If it came to it, he could always suffer a tragic accident, leaving her on the throne. Then she could get on with the serious business of living in luxury while others did the work.
After all, she would have earned it, the things she had to do to bewitch him.
“What are you thinking?” Swane asked, then gave her a little leer. “Is it the same as me?”
She winked at him without thinking. “Well, let’s see.” She whispered something in his ear and watched him flush. “But that is for later,” she said, patting his hand. “Now we have to make sure we are ready to take back your throne.”
Ryan and Meinster waited for them with ill-disguised impatience. With them was the man she had appointed as the captain of the guards. She had spoken carefully with all of them, looking for someone with the right mix of brutality, obedience and cunning. She had known it was too much to expect someone with the abilities of Fallon hiding among them but she had been pleasantly surprised by her eventual choice, the former captain of Londegal’s guards. Kane was tall, lean and scarred and, importantly, he was well aware of his former master’s conversion to Zorva. The last thing she wanted was someone getting an attack of conscience at a crucial time in a battle. She had been concerned he might not be able to enforce his authority on some of the other captains from bigger counties, for Londegal had barely eighty guards to bring to Swane’s army, but Kane had brought the others into line swiftly. That was good to know and it was especially handy that he owed his position and newfound wealth to her. She had made that abundantly clear to him, because you never knew when you might have to call in a favor. Having his first loyalty to her rather than Swane could be vital later.
She nodded a greeting to him but she made sure she was standing between her rivals and Swane.
“You may begin, Captain,” she told Kane.
He raised his arm and a pair of men a few paces away nodded and waved flags at the far side of the common. Instantly lines of horsemen appeared, at first trotting, then moving smoothly into a canter and then the long lances came down in a perfect line and they spurred to the gallop, shoulder to shoulder, their steel lance tips almost completely in line.
“Much better,” Swane said happily.
But it was not finished yet, for two more lines followed the first, each of them in perfect order.
“And our foot soldiers?” Dina asked.
Kane bowed his head and raised his other arm. More flags were flashed and then a horde of men poured across the common, howling and roaring their challenges. Dina could not get a proper count for they were in no ranks, just a solid mass, but it looked impressive indeed. It must be a cold winter to draw so many from across eastern Gaellan
d. She instinctively liked these men, motivated solely by money and not caring what they had to do to get it.
Few had proper weapons and many had clubs or shillelaghs, while pitchforks and wood axes seemed to be a popular choice as well. They stopped about fifty paces away and brandished these weapons before splitting apart to let one final group of cavalry race through the center of them, to Swane’s applause. She joined in but her mind was on other things. It did not really matter whether this mob was trained or not. Their real job was to soak up Fallon’s crossbow bolts so the cavalry could destroy Fallon’s men.
“I think we are finally ready now, sire, after you and I made those changes,” she said happily. “We should leave tomorrow.”
“So soon?” Meinster asked.
Dina gestured to the thick clouds overhead. “Heavy snow could come at any time. We shall get over the Spine no matter what but we might as well make it easier for ourselves.”
As she knew he would, Swane instantly agreed with her. “Make the arrangements,” he ordered.
“But, sire, we were going to send a company on ahead to set up camp on the other side of the Spine,” Ryan objected.
“It will take us at least five days to cross the Spine. That is more than enough time to have the camp ready for us when we arrive,” Dina said disdainfully.
“See to it, Ryan,” Swane ordered. “Send someone reliable over there to do it.”
“Can we trust such an important task to just anyone?” she asked. “It could mean the difference between success and failure. We need someone trustworthy to oversee it.”
“As always, you are right,” Swane agreed. “Ryan, you shall go ahead to make sure all is ready.”
“But sire!” Ryan protested.
Dina knew that was to no avail. Swane was like his father and, once he had pronounced judgment, nothing could get him to change it. She had him all to herself now, just as she planned.
*
Ryan watched his Prince walk away, arm-in-arm with that witch and cursed long and loud, all the words he never used when others were in hearing.