Harald-ARC

by David Friedman

  Anne looked down, spoke: "I understand I have you to thank for my lord's life."

  Caralla looked puzzled a moment, then her face cleared.

  "I just followed orders. It was one of Father's set piece battles—everything important settled five minutes before it starts."

  This time it was Anne who looked blank. James explained.

  "The Lady is daughter to Harald."

  "Fortune indeed. Speaking of whom, it would be well to find him."

  "Father's up hill with Stephen; we can take you."

  She walked over to the other two, got their attention. Elaina remounted, Leonora and Caralla fetched their horses. Elaina rode by her mother; Caralla caught Kara's glance, fell back to join her. When they reached the gate it was open; Leonora led the party through it.

  In Stephen's council chamber Harald looked up, saw Anne, smiled.

  "All this way for stories? I'm flattered."

  "It would be worth the ride, but I have one to tell first."

  Leonora sent Elaina and Kara off, with instructions to stay out of trouble. The rest were silent as Anne repeated what she had seen and heard. When she was done, Harald spoke.

  "The Westkin you saw. What were their tattoos?"

  Anne thought a moment. "The one who seemed to be in charge of the others had a black bird on his forehead."

  "Ravens. At least he has sense enough not to mix clans. Any idea how many?"

  "They had half the west barracks."

  "Fifty to a hundred. What else?"

  "A company, thirty or forty, that seemed to be his people—accents from the hill country south of Estmont. Another company I think were mercenaries. The Wolves mostly lodged in Eston, but ten or twenty in the castle, maybe more."

  James broke in: "What about my people?"

  "He quarreled with the captain of your guard for losing you—and living. Sent them all off to Eston. Of the men you left behind, he sent some with messages. Two at least he locked up; I don't know if he gave any reason. Of the old garrison, maybe ten are left."

  Leonora summed it up: "Fewer than two hundred, almost all loyal to Andrew." She looked at Harald; he nodded, spoke.

  "Stephen, what can you raise fast?"

  "Messengers out today? Two fifty, maybe three hundred, five days from now. Five, six more days for the rest. We'd best assemble on my southern border, plains west of the road. Plenty of grass."

  "What about Brand?"

  "If he's home when the bird gets there, a hundred in five days—farther to come. Maybe more. Four hundred more in another week or so."

  "'Nora?"

  "Three tataves in camp, one in the hills east. Do we pull in our scouts, Stephen's, from the border?"

  "No. Four tataves, my people, Brand and Stephen's. Leave James' folk in Eston out—too hard to get word to them without its getting to other people. Bring them in after. Taking the castle gets the birds, might get Andrew, might not. He'll have more people south. Snake clan, maybe. Mercenaries from over the eastern passes. Useful stuff, gold. Need a royal banner."

  Harald, Leonora, and Stephen spent the rest of the afternoon working out details with occasional help from Caralla; James and Anne sat, hands linked, listened, answered an occasional question. When they were done, servants brought dinner.

  Eight days later Harald reached the fork in the road where he had separated from Hrolf a year before—left to Eston, right to the castle. A Lady, dressed as a traveler, mounted, was waiting. He gave her an enquiring look; she spoke quietly:

  "Caralla's watching the gate, the rest are scattered between here and there. Nothing that looks like a messenger the past two days."

  "Stay; we don't want word going out, either. Not till we send it."

  She nodded, backed her horse into the woods to let the columns pass. They made camp in the twilight, set sentries on all three roads. Well before dawn the Order broke camp, moved off into the woods toward the castle.

  * * *

  The sentry above the gate heard hoofbeats, looked up. Out of the forest edge, a bowshot and more from the gate, a rider came galloping. More. Dark cloaks, a red splotch on the breast of one—Wolves. A lot of Wolves. Something behind them. He yelled to the captain of the gate, the guards below. As the gate swung ponderously open—the bridge was already down—the castle courtyard filled with yells, running feet. Men ran past him; he reached down for the bow and quiver at his feet, rose again. Something struck him a sudden blow on the chest. He looked down—an arrow.

  * * *

  Anne watched, hidden at the forest edge, out of bowshot from the walls. From the brush ahead arrows poured at the castle. She turned to Elaina:

  "Some of them are going high."

  "At the far rampart, shooting blind. Arrows from behind make men nervous."

  The lead force in their borrowed plumage were through the gate. Behind them the pursuers, a double column of cats at a gallop. The gate stayed open; they went through. After them the main body, banners of North and River, between them the royal banner. By the time James reached the castle courtyard the fighting was over, the ramparts swept clean, the courtyard spotted with bodies, men laying down their weapons. Harald, in the middle of the courtyard with his cats spread out behind him, was arguing with one of the nomads. He turned to the King.

  "Wants supplies over Northgate; Emperor might not be too happy with them any more. I said parties of ten, my messenger first. He thinks I'm being rude. Can I invite him and senior kin to stay a week as guests while junior kin head home? Wounded to stay till they can travel. Useful folk to know."

  James nodded.

  Bets Won And Lost

  The coward believes he will live forever

  If he holds back in the battle,

  But in old age he shall have no peace

  Though spears have spared his limbs.

  The chair in the King's council chamber was at least as comfortable as a saddle and Harald had slept in a lot of saddles. He came out of a half doze at a familiar voice, opened his eyes. The guard captain appeared to have survived his brief imprisonment without serious damage. Harald was the first to speak:

  "Henry. You owe me a gold piece."

  The King looked puzzled, the captain blank; neither spoke.

  "I'm here, aren't I?"

  The guard captain shook his head:

  "It doesn't count; I was locked in the dungeon."

  "When we made the bet, we didn't say anything about who I had to take the castle from. Besides, you weren't locked up for the past three years. Told you to keep the brush down."

  "And I told His Majesty."

  "And I had more urgent matters to deal with. Fortunate you didn't tell Andrew. I gather the two of you had a bet."

  "Five years back. 'Nora?"

  "Sober, and off settling a fight between two of my commanders who weren't. Never heard the terms."

  "Stephen?"

  "You said you could take the castle. Henry said you couldn't—not without a siege. One gold piece. To Harald if he did it, to Henry if he tried and failed."

  The King reached into his purse, pulled out a gold piece; Henry caught it out of the air.

  "Pay him. My fault."

  Harald closed his eyes again, considered the situation. Andrew had left the castle with the contents of the treasury and most of his own people, probably on word of either Mord's failure or Anne's escape. The mercenaries and nomads had been left behind to hold the castle, the Wolves, Harald suspected, in the hope that the King might show up without an army.

  They were talking about birds. Philip's voice. Harald opened his eyes again.

  "Your Majesty's cousin commanded me to send birds to most of the provinces south of here; he did not tell me why or what messages they carried."

  "What does that leave us?"

  "Nothing for Estfen or Estmount; he sent the last three to each the day of his departure. Two birds still for Estmark. South one for the hills, one for the plains. Two for Westval. One other thing, Majesty."

 
; James looked up.

  "I sleep in the tower under the birds. This morning, bell woke me, yelling. Someone pounded on the door. No voice I knew. Didn't pull the bolt—figured it was worth waiting to know more. After a while he went away."

  Harald turned to the King. "Majesty, Anne should be here."

  The King gave him a puzzled look.

  "If the southern provinces are in revolt—hills, plain, everything east—you'll need the other half of the kingdom to deal with them, full levies. If they are with Andrew because he told them you're dead, they're fighting me, you should move fast with what you have—and bring your banner. The lady is Estfen's daughter, Estmont's niece, nobody's fool."

  The King looked around the room. "Henry, you know the lady Anne's apartments?"

  He nodded.

  "Take word that I would be glad of her counsel. While we wait I will send for refreshment."

  The refreshment came, followed by the lady. Harald put the question to her. She thought a moment before answering.

  "Estmark is friendly to Andrew because he wants his word with His Majesty, next time he quarrels with us. Father hasn't forgiven Andrew for last time. Nobody likes him much. If he told any of the three he planned to seize the throne by force, they'd bring you his head, happy to do it. South plains, hills, I don't know."

  Harald nodded to her, turned to the King. "By my council we leave a skeleton garrison here, under Henry. Call out the Eston levies, what they can mount of them. Bird to Westval—they're close. Spend tomorrow getting ready, assembling supplies, sweeping the Eston taverns for what's missing of your guard. Next day west and south. Order out first as scouts, all the way across the plain in case they come up the west edge."

  "Should we send birds to everyone else to tell them I'm alive and Andrew a traitor?"

  "Messages can lie. It's your face we need. Pigeon can't carry that."

  The next morning Harald, sleeping in a room at the base of the south tower, was awakened by voices nearby, thumping noises, someone singing off key. Dawn. Through the arrow slit he observed a team of men with axes, Henry among them, cutting brush. There being nothing handy to throw, he went back to bed.

  A day and a half later, the army formed up outside the walls. Harald was feeding his mare a last handful of oats when he heard voices raised behind him.

  "And I say, love of my life, that treasures are safest guarded by high walls. You are my treasure; you stay."

  "A lot of men those walls guarded are feeding worms just now."

  "Henry is a careful man. He'll have the rest of the Eston levies to help him."

  "I'm safer with you. More useful, too."

  "Harald will be there to tell me when I'm being stupid. All that leaves is to remind me what I want to stay alive for. You can do that from here. Enough."

  Harald, moving to the head of the forming column: "Talk to you like that, heart's delight, be walking."

  But only the mare heard.

  Three days later a scout brought word. A sizable body of cavalry flying the Westval oaktree, ahead and right. Harald brought the army to a stop. James came up beside him; Harald spoke:

  "Any reason to think he wants you dead?"

  The King shook his head, spoke to his captain. With banner carrier and twenty of his guard, he rode forward ahead of his army. The Westval contingent approached cautiously, stopped well out of arrowshot. The King rode towards the center of their line; the oak tree moved to meet him. After a very long half hour James came back, accompanied by the provincial lord and several of his men. Another half hour was spent explaining the situation before the combined force moved again south.

  Two days later scouts came in with word of a force moving up the center of the plain, screened by nomads. Harald formed up his little army. Three provinces—seven hundred heavy cavalry—with two hundred of the King's guard and a hundred Eston crossbows, were the center. The Order force, grown to over three hundred, was the right, Harald's two hundred cats the left. They advanced behind a thin screen of cats and Ladies. A little past noon the opposing force came into sight. Harald positioned the crossbowmen and Ladies at the top of a low ridge, portable pavises for shelter, the cavalry a little down the slope, and waited.

  Banners blew in the breeze—the three eastern provinces out in force, Estfen left, green hart on silver, Estmark's boar on the right. In the center, with Estvale, Andrew's bear, blue on gold, a body of heavy cavalry in foreign armor. Nomads a screen in front of the army, shooting at long range, falling back to their main body in the center.

  Out of the Order forces on the right a single rider, straight for the Estfen banner. Steel cap off, hair streaming fire in the wind. Harald, riding at the center beside the King, drew a long breath:

  "Good girl."

  "Gods. Back at the castle. What is she ..."

  "Saving your neck. Her father's, too."

  On the left, a rider out to meet Anne. The wind caught the King's banner, blew it out—he rode forward ahead of his guard, in plain sight, the banner beside him. At the opposing center, the bear banner surged forward, Andrew's mercenaries around it, the nomads ahead. Most of the rest of the center, the right, all of the left, held.

  "Back, Majesty. They've seen you. That charge is for us. "

  The King wheeled, fell back into line with his guard. Harald was shooting steadily, aiming high for the charging mercenaries. A horse, hit by a nomad arrow at long range, went wild; the rider pulled it out of the line. The nomad force split left and right across the face of Harald's army shooting as they rode, opening a gap for the charging cavalry. Crossbows on the center, long bows on the right, shot back. On the left the cats, pivoting on the royal center, swung like a door to block the nomad column.

  The King's captain swung down his arm, the royal standard dipped, the heavy cavalry moved forward, lances down. Faster. At a gallop the two masses of cavalry met, the King's longer line wrapping around the ends of the attackers.

  From the front slope of the ridge Harald could see the whole battle spread out below. In the center, where the two charges met, a tangled mass of men, most still mounted, fighting hand to hand. On the left the nomads, outnumbered by the more heavily armored cats, had avoided them as best they could, turned right again, aiming for the fringe of the battle, their path marked by a trail of bodies. On the right, part of the nomad force had ridden around the end of the Order's line. The rest had turned back and were shooting into the melee from the far side, out of range of the archers on the ridge. Beyond the battle, more than a bowshot from where Harald watched, twelve hundred men, the massed levy of three provinces, sat their horses while riders hurried up and down the line.

  Now they were moving. The nomads, caught between the charging line of heavy cavalry and the central battle, scattered for their lives. A small body of horsemen broke from the melee, joined the fleeing nomads. Most of the mercenary heavies, already outnumbered and locked in battle with the King's center, were less lucky.

  Harald, having spent the final minutes of the battle shooting at the men around Andrew's banner, sheathed his bow. The surviving mercenaries were laying down their weapons. The surviving nomads—along with a few of the Order's horses driven off from behind their line—were almost out of sight. The King was no longer on his horse but still on his feet.

  A group of riders were forcing their way towards the King through the tangle of dead men and horses where the eastern provinces, taking the mercenaries in the rear, had finished the battle. One was Anne; the shield beside her showed a green hart on silver. Her father. Harald took a careful look around the battle field, walked his horse down to join them.

  The King was standing over the body of his captain. Harald, off his horse, spoke from out of sword reach.

  "James. Let me take a look at him."

  The King looked around, lowered his sword, stepped back. Harald kneeled by the captain, pulled a long strip of cloth from under the skirt of his war coat, bound up the worst of the wounds. When he finally looked up the King was h
olding Anne tightly, listening to her father.

  "Andrew claimed you were dead, Harald and the Order burning and looting, northern provinces maybe trying for the crown. Thought we might as well come see. Nomads got me wondering. They had to get here somehow. Only two passes west. Harald owns one, the Emperor owns the other. I wondered about gold to pay them, too."

  Harald spoke from his knees: "I think he'll live. Two men, stretcher, to get him out of here, blankets to keep him warm."

  He turned to Estfen: "Westkin came over the low pass, south quietly in dribs and drabs. His Imperial Majesty provided the gold. Anyone found Andrew yet?"