It worried Nathan. Haven had better soldiers than that! They’d walked into a classic military trap, and they hadn’t even put out guards to their flanks and rear! But MacKinnie’s hard-riding scouts, their horses lathered with flecks of white foam, had circled the enemy. They had seen nothing. There was no significant reinforcements, no support at all for the forces moving so blindly into MacKinnie’s trap. Haven was doomed.
Why? MacKinnie wondered. It hardly mattered. Perhaps they had planned some clever counter-coup, but there was nothing, nothing at all that they or anyone could do now …
The Orleans Dragoons took the field within minutes of the time MacKinnie had set for them. They advanced and dug in, closing off the Haven column’s escape route, forming a solid anvil against which the charging Wolves would crush their enemy, and now, now it was time! “Mount ’em up, Hal! Move ’em out! Fox and Dragon troops will charge those batteries on the right flank. The rest dismount at five hundred meters and advance on foot. We’ve got them, Hal, we’ve beaten everything Haven can put into the field!”
The Wolves charged down the hill, whooping like South Continent barbarians, while the youthful trumpeters blew every call in the book. It was done. The Wolves were in perfect position to roll up Haven’s flank — and death fell from the skies. A sleek black shape roared overhead and, as it passed, Lechfeld was turned into a blackened cinder.
And again, again that thing passed overhead, and blinding beams of light stabbed out to burn the Dragoons! Now it hovered over the battlefield, playing its deadly beams across MacKinnie’s army.
“Dismount! All troops fire on that thing! Troop Commanders, fire troops in volley! Trumpeter, orders to artillery! Where the hell are those field pieces? Gunners, get those goddam cannon in action!”
Somehow they’d done it. The black shape fell from the skies, settling hard into the cornfields, and when the gray-coated troops in the sky machine came out, the Wolves cut them down and howled in triumph!
Too late. Haven’s army was still intact. The Dragoons were dead or running. Lechfeld was gone, and the Wolves had taken terrible casualties. The Haven force wheeled to face right, and for the first time in his life Nathan MacKinnie had known defeat. When the trumpeters sounded recall it was the end of his career, and the end of everything else. Laura had been in Lechfeld …
“Colonel.” Stark took his commander by the elbow. “Colonel, it don’t do no good to think about it.”
“Uh?” The bright fields of Prince Samual’s World faded. Awkwardly he turned away from the battlements and let his hands relax. The knuckles were white. “Your pardon, Mary. I was — somewhere else. You’re right, let’s go join the revels.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
GRACE AND ABSOLUTION
Mary Graham watched the mad light fade from Nathan MacKinnie’s eyes. I know, she thought. I know what he saw. When Hal tells that story, it’s like being there.
MacKinnie’s voice came from the bottom of a well of emotion. Mary tried to smile reassuringly, but that was impossible.
What must it be like, she wondered. To feel that much for someone? And what was she like, that girl he was thinking about? Hal wouldn’t say much about her. I don’t even know her name. What was she like, to make a man like MacKinnie feel that way? I’ll never have that kind of devotion from anyone.
Have I that much to give?
Yes. I do. I’ve always been sure of that, that somewhere, somehow—
A little girl’s dream.
No. Not that at all. When I was little I thought of a handsome, rich lord and now, well, yes, I’ve usually thought of him, whoever he’ll be, as rich and handsome, but mostly he’ll be a man who’ll let me be more to him than my father ever let Mother be.
She stared up into the star-studded darkness. That tiny dot is my sun, she thought. One dot among thousands, tiny, insignificant, and yet it was my whole world for all my life until just last year—
A world she no longer cared for. She had resented the restrictions Haven society put on her, but that had been a formless resentment, almost unconscious. Now she knew better. There were other ways to live, other cultures on other worlds, worlds without end, worlds after worlds, and what was Prince Samual’s World, or anyone on it?
We are what we make ourselves. And we can change whole worlds. We’re doing that now. Isn’t it enough?
She had felt the magic touch of command, of knowing that others depended on her judgement. MacKinnie had won the battles, but without her cooks and supply wagons he couldn’t have taken the field. He’d known that, and he’d trusted her, trusted her with the lives of all his men, and his troopers were more important to him than his own life-
“Your turn to be in a blue daze,” Nathan said. “What we need is some company.”
She nodded and let Nathan and Hal lead her down the stairs to the streets below, but still the pensive mood pursued her. Do we need company? she wondered. Maybe we have too much already. Hal would be happy enough to go join the revels without us …
She almost laughed aloud. A year ago that thought would have shocked her. Or at least she would have pretended, even to herself, that it did. Properly brought up young ladies didn’t have any doubts about what was proper.
Proper young ladies had dull lives.
The streets were alive with people. Where there had formerly been beggars and empty shops there were shouting throngs drowning the bitterness of months of defeat in wine and ale. The barbarians were driven from the gates!
Those who hadn’t pawned their finery during the siege now wore it. Several pawnshops had been looted, so that many others were gaily dressed in bright woolens, silks, even cotton prints. A riot of color wove complex patterns through the streets. It seemed the entire city had turned out. Even the saffron-robed members of the Temple minor orders, the gray deacons, and the black-robed full priests joined in the revelry. Only MacKinnie’s on-duty pikemen held aloof, and many of them quaffed hastily offered beakers of wine and beer.
“Seems different without them Temple swordsmen,” Hal said. “I see the Temple people are already recruitin’ more to replace the ones we lost out on the field—”
“Yes.” MacKinnie would rather that subject were dropped.
“It was terrible,” Mary said. “Father Sumbavu and a thousand swordsmen killed after our victory … I can’t understand how it happened.”
“It always happens,” MacKinnie said. “There’s always a price.”
But what really did happen? she wondered. Had MacKinnie understood Sumbavu so well that he could deliberately use the priest to destroy the Temple army? That was a bit frightening. If he knew Sumbavu that well, how much does he know about me?
What if he did send Sumbavu and all his men out to die? Was there any other way to get control of the Temple? Probably not. Was it worth the price? That’s the real question. What are we doing here? What am I doing? From what I’ve seen I’d rather live in Imperial society than my own—
But Imperial society has no use for me or any of us, women and men alike. Haven does. This mission is important to Haven, and I’m important to the mission, and that ought to be enough. It’s more than I ever dreamed of. Except that now my part of the job is done …
MacKinnie found a goblet of wine and gave it to her. It was strong, heady stuff, and she knew she shouldn’t drink all of it, but the festive mood of the streets was hard to resist, and she drank more than half. Nathan took a beaker of ale from one of his off-duty troopers. “Thanks, Hiaro,” he said. “What’ll you do now that the war’s over?”
“I don’t know, Colonel.” The little pikeman stood tall, and Stark’s merciless drillfield exercises showed in his muscles. Mary remembered when she’d first seen him: when Hiaro had joined MacKinnie’s army he was an emaciated ghost living on Temple charity, sleeping in a gutter and waiting to die. “My farm is burned, my wife and children are dead … the lord of my fields wants us to return to the land, and it seems I must do so for I am not tall enough to join the ne
w Temple guards.”
MacKinnie drank and turned away but the fugleman pursued him. “Colonel — Trader — sir, it is rumored that you will march west with an army. There are many like me who would go with you. Some talk of remaining together and seeking employment as soldiers for another city, but we would rather go with you.”
“Thanks, Hiaro. I’ll remember,” MacKinnie said.
What is there about him that wins loyalty? Mary wondered. Not just Hiaro. Hal Stark. The other guardsmen. It’s like a tangible force. I can feel it, too, but I suppose that could be something else, something more physical. Heaven knows he’s attractive enough. And sometimes he looks at me — She drank the rest of the goblet. Someone stepped out of the crowd to fill it again.
They wandered through the brightly lit streets. Wind chimes with a Temple replica as centerpiece tinkled in every doorway. They rounded a corner, and she slipped on the rough cobblestones. MacKinnie caught her, and she leaned against him for a moment. She felt his warmth, and she didn’t want to move away. Gently he set her back on her feet, but she thought he took his time doing it, as if the physical contact wasn’t unpleasant for him.
“The pikemen could do all right as mercenaries,” Stark commented. “They can beat anything on this planet exceptin’ heavy cavalry, and with the right battle plan they might even do that. No leaders, though, so they’ll probably hire out to some idiot who’ll waste them. Nobody on this end of Makassar appreciates good infantry. Be a pity what’s goin’ to happen to them lads after all the training we gave them …”
“I got your message before, Sergeant,” MacKinnie said. His voice was cold.
“Yes, sir.”
“What message?” Mary asked.
“Hal thinks I ought to stay here as king of this city rather than return to Jikar.”
“But you can’t do that! Haven is depending on you, all of Prince Samual’s World — Nathan, you wouldn’t really do that!”
But we could, she thought. We could stay. She thought of Hiaro as she’d first seen him. And the children of Batav. The Empire wouldn’t help them. Someone should. But not us! We’ve our own world to save, and even if I don’t like Haven as much as I once did, it’s my home, and this is my duty.
“Wouldn’t I? Who’s to stop me?” he asked.
She drew away from him, then began to laugh. “Why, you are, Iron Man! I suppose you really could get away with it. The Imperial Navy wouldn’t like that, but with their Archbishop on your side you’d be all right.” She spoke tauntingly now. “Go on, Your Majesty. Forget your oaths. Why don’t you take me into the nearest building and ravish me while you’re at it? Who’s to stop you? I have no protector here. No one but you.”
MacKinnie turned away.
They were approaching a large group, peasants, soldiers off duty, knights in mail, all gathered around a cart in the center of a public square. One mailed warrior in bright surcoat stood atop the cart, his head tilted back in song.
“Look, there’s Brett,” Nathan said. “Let’s go listen.”
Two pikemen saw MacKinnie approach and efficiently cleared a way through the crowd to the wagon.
“In the public house to die, is my resolution,
Let wine to my lips be nigh, at life’s dissolution!
That will make the angels cry, with glad elocution,
’Grant this drunkard, God on high, grace and absolution!’ ”
Brett ended his song and seized a flagon of wine. As he drained it he saw MacKinnie. “Ho lads, it’s the colonel and his lady, our Lady Mary who brings food and drink and takes care of the wounded. A song for the real winner of our battles!”
“Oh mistress mine, where are you—”
He had hardly begun when he broke off and straightened in horror. “Hal! Behind you! Guard the colonel!” Brett tore his sword from its sheath and leaped from the cart.
It all happened so fast that Mary had no time to react. A short, brown man rushed through the crowd. He brandished a heavy curved knife. A bedlam of shouting erupted, but the intruder ran in deadly silence. When a pikeman moved to intercept him the kriss flashed, lopping off the soldier’s arm at the elbow. There were more shouts, of warning and terror. The kriss swung again and again, and more of MacKinnie’s warriors fell to the wine-soaked cobblestones.
“Haigh!” A soldier flung his javelin from somewhere behind her. The meter-and-a-half dart took the charging warrior below the chest, but the man plucked the javelin from his body and charged on, still dealing terrible blows to everyone in his path. Then there was no one but Stark between him and the colonel.
Hal had no time to draw his sword. Instead, he moved in front of Mary and MacKinnie. The kriss flashed again. It caught Stark on the right shoulder and battered him to the ground, but he’d bought MacKinnie time enough to draw his own weapon.
And the brown man was still coming forward, directly toward her, toward Nathan, the great curved knife held high. Nathan took his stance, his face determined but calm, no fear at all as he held the point of his sword leveled at the enemy—
And the man, impaled on the sword, still ran forward down the blade toward MacKinnie. The kriss lifted high and Mary saw death descending.
“Haigh!” Brett shouted a curse similar to the assassin’s. His broadsword flashed, catching the descending wrist to cut it off. Brett lifted his weapon again and cut viciously at the head, then again. The stocky warrior slumped, his weight tearing MacKinnie’s sword from his hand.
“Haigh!” Brett shouted again. “In time! Hal, do you live?”
“Yeah.” Stark eased himself gingerly to his feet and clutched his right shoulder with his left hand. “Man, he swings that thing hard! Caught me more with the flat than the edge, damn good thing I didn’t take off my mail after duty today … “he tested his arm. “Gonna be stiff for a week.”
“Better that than lose the arm,” Brett said quietly.
The crowd was milling about the square, and men and women were shouting, “The colonel lives!” Brett leaped to his wagon and shouted it again. “He lives. The colonel lives!”
“Glory be to God!” Someone screamed. A Temple priest began to pray loudly.
It was only then that the reaction took her. She was still shaking when MacKinnie climbed onto the wagon to show himself unhurt. He was just in time. Already pikemen were advancing with leveled weapons, ready to avenge their commander’s death with a massacre …
* * *
Nathan climbed down from the cart. A near thing, he thought. As near as ever I came to buying it.
Now that it was over he’d get the shakes. It almost always happened. When there was work to do, danger only made him calmer, but when it was over … He found Mary in the crowd. She seemed calm enough, but subdued, and he took her hand.
A hastily assembled squad of pikemen escorted them back to the Temple compound. They walked in silence to MacKinnie’s rooms, then Mary went to find the Temple physicians, while Brett and MacKinnie assisted Stark in removing his armor and the thick woolsh-hide padding beneath it. The shoulder was swollen and discolored.
“It don’t feel broke,” Stark said. He moved his arm gingerly. “But it sure don’t feel too good, either. Could you pour me some wine, Colonel?”
“Sure.” MacKinnie got the bottle and goblets. “We could all use some. Brett, who was the man?”
“A mari fanatic,” Brett said. “Sent to kill you. The juramentados are usually very high-ranking members of the clan, and they never come back alive. You should feel complimented. They think killing you is important.”
“They’re right, too,” Stark said. “Without the colonel.”
Brett nodded. “They’ll have the Temple within a year. Probably sooner.”
“Damn it, now both of you are after me,” MacKinnie said. “And what am I supposed to do?”
“Nothing you can do, Colonel,” Stark said. “You took on a job, and you wouldn’t be who you are if it was in you to throw off your duty. Still, it’s a pity. Those are good lads.”<
br />
There was a long silence. Hal broke it at last. “Maybe Brett and I, between us, could hold onto this place.”
“But-”
“You won’t be needing me to get home,” Stark said. “Not really. MacLean and Todd and Loholo can handle the ship. And there’s nothing much for me after we get back.”
Nathan still didn’t say anything.
“Damn it,” Hal said, “I don’t like splitting up any better than you do. But — Colonel, we made soldiers out of those peasants. Don’t we owe them?”
“It could be our salvation,” Brett said. “I know the maris. As you suspect, although I was not born one of them, I grew up in a mari clan, and I know them. When they hear that you are gone, they will return, and who can fight them? I cannot. Nor can Vanjynk. Yet we can control the knights, and if Hal commands here — for you, of course. We must say that we hold for you, until your return, and let Hal command in your name.”
Stark grinned wryly. “Like old times. It’s what I’ve always done. All I ever wanted to do, for that matter. And we’d have a good chance.”
“You might have time to build a good military force,” Nathan said. “Good enough to hold the maris. But what about the politics? Sergeant—”
“Colonel, don’t order me to come with you.”
I don’t think he ever interrupted me before, MacKinnie thought.
“I’ll take care of these new Wolves for you,” Stark said. “Just until you come back for us. Let’s leave it like that.”
Except we both know I’ll never get back, MacKinnie thought.
He looked at Stark, then looked away. There had always been the possibility that Stark would be killed in a battle that MacKinnie survived, but after Lechfeld it hadn’t seemed likely. After Lechfeld, Stark was all that was left of his former life. He had never considered what it would be like to be alone.
I guess now I find out, he thought.
Mary came in with two yellow-robed priests. They looked at Hal’s shoulder and exchanged glances, then bent to feel it gingerly. “I do not think it broken,” one said. “It will heal. But it may be dislocated. We will have to wrench it into place, then bind it up. That will be painful. If you will come with us-”
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