He rode past me, mouth set. I wheeled Ebon and followed. Tursel didn’t slow ’til he reached the ridge. It was hard work steering our mounts up the steep incline, and it wasn’t until we reached the top that I soothed Ebon with a pat, and spoke.
“How many? What were they doing?”
Tursel hurled his helmet into the dust. “You’re king of Caledon, and ride alone into the field! Do I serve a simpleton?”
I gaped.
“I’m done, Rodrigo. I’ll serve Raeth, or go home to Cumber. I won’t serve a monarch who values himself as nothing!”
Kadar said nothing, but nodded firmly.
I gulped. “Captain ...” A deep breath. “I ask thy pardon. Ah, humbly. Yes. Humbly ask.” I tried to meet his eye. “I won’t do it again. I’ll ride where you advise.”
“And in battle? At the first sound of horns you’ll—”
I cried, “In battle too.” My face was crimson. “It’s only that I want—wanted—I’ll let you protect me, sir.”
“You swear so?” His glare didn’t waver.
Now he saw my tears; he couldn’t humiliate me more if he cut a switch. “Yes, Captain. By the Still.”
“Very well, my liege.”
I let them lead me back to our column.
We clustered in the rutted road. Tursel debated with himself. “Groenfil’s horse will lead, from the left, by the hill. Tantroth’s cavalry will file down the road past us, and charge from our right. They’ll converge in the center.”
I found it hard to concentrate. “Cavalry only?”
“For the speed of it. We’d be hours sending all our men down the ridge, marching them across the plain to the rise. We’d be noticed.”
“Archers?” I’d snatched sleep the past night, despite the flame arrows. Why was I exhausted and befogged?
“I’ll send a company ahead of the horse. They’ll stop just short of the rise.”
Were we taking too many precautions? “Surely this isn’t Hriskil’s main camp.”
Tantroth bestirred himself. “Hardly. A thousand men at most.”
And so confident they hadn’t fortified their camp. We’d teach them better respect for Caledon.
“If you approve, sire ...” The captain looked impatient. “We’d best get started.” It would be near dusk, when we plunged over the rise to attack.
“Very well.”
Tanner tugged at my sleeve, with a skin of watered wine. I drank greedily. The wine added welcome flavor to the chill water, and wasn’t strong enough to fuddle me.
He stepped back, as Anavar sought me. “I’ll ride with Groenfil’s troop,” said the Eiberian. It was half statement, half plea.
Should I give as I got, or as I’d hoped for?
I sighed. In Eiber, Anavar was fighting for his homeland. I couldn’t deny him.
He waited, face fervent, body dancing.
I nodded.
With a bound, he was on Edmund, and gone.
As quietly as they were able, Groenfil’s troop set off for their post on our left. Horses snorting, men trying not to jangle in their stirrups, they assembled across the brow of the ridge. Tantroth’s horsemen filed past, filling the right of our line. Immediately Raeth’s men on foot rushed down the road to guard our far flank.
So far we’d committed only our horse, but Soushire’s troops and those of Stryx would assemble at the ridge when battle had commenced, as counter, if the Norlanders were reinforced. As it now stood, the engagement wouldn’t be much more than a skirmish.
Tursel had bidden me stay within our main body of troops, on the road, and ride nowhere without my bodyguards. Specifically he barred me from the copse through which the road passed, that Cumber guarded as our flank. I pleaded with him to let me see the battle. He allowed me the edge of the ridge, but no further.
I chafed under his constraints, but obeyed them. It brought an odd comfort, as if Rust rode yet at my side.
As quietly as they might, our horsemen clambered down the ridge, reassembled at the foot of the plain.
At least I wasn’t alone in my exclusion. Elryc sought me out, as did Tresa. The four of us—one must never forget Genard—huddled together at the top of the ridge, overlooking the field. I was in a fretful mood, and so was Elryc.
Uncle Raeth, on a sturdy brown gelding, trotted back and forth along the road. Our vantage point, at the center of the ridge, was as convenient a place as any for him to quarter himself, and so it was to us he returned from each jaunt.
A handful of scouts lay on their bellies at the top of the far rise. Occasionally one of them, ever so cautiously, raised his head to peer at the Norland camp.
A company of our archers trudged across the field.
Groenfil’s horsemen rode at the walk, as quietly as they might, that the sound of their approach not carry over the rise to the Norland camp.
“When will they sound the charge, Roddy?” Elryc danced from foot to foot.
“How do I know?” I tried not to sound irritable. “When Tursel gives the signal.” Increasingly weary, I tried to goad my thoughts.
Suddenly one of our scouts at the ridge crawled backward, leaped to his feet, ran windmilling toward our advancing horsemen. I tensed. “What—”
Captain Tursel spurred forward. They met; Tursel leaned over the pommel. Abruptly he reined about, raced to a captain of horse, conferred. The rider wheeled and raced toward our command post on the ridge.
Tursel raised his hand to signal the charge.
A flock of swift birds shot from the hills to our left.
Not birds.
Arrows, swarms of them. They fell among Lord Groenfil’s horsemen. The stony hill was crawling with Norland archers, who’d climbed over the bristling rock. Horses screamed. Men and mounts toppled.
Tursel sounded the charge.
A well-trained archer could shoot an arrow every three breaths. If anything, the Norlanders were more swift; the skies were near black with their barbs.
Should I order a counterattack? Climbing the hill against the archers above would be suicidal.
Tursel’s courier reached the rise. His mount struggled upward, fell heavily. The rider jumped off, scrambled the rest of the way. It was Azar, Tantroth’s aide. “My lord, the Norland camp is reinforced. Troops are pouring out of the wood beyond. Tursel says to send down the foot soldiers!”
“By the time they cross the plain, the battle will be over.”
Uncle Raeth ran to us. “What’s this? Withdraw the cavalry, while we may!”
“Too late.” Our charging horsemen plunged over the far rise, raced beyond our sight toward the Norland camp.
“Call them back!” His bony fingers gripped my arm.
“Tursel’s in charge.” My tone was bitter. “I’m only allowed to watch!” The unfairness of it rose in my gorge.
Dozens of our horsemen lay dead on the plain.
“Kadar, send word to the captain of foot soldiers. Form a line of advance at the foot of the ridge. Hurry. Shields high to the left, against the arrow swarm.”
“Aye, my lord. Stay in this spot.” He rushed off.
“Genard!” I was near beside myself. “Any kind of a bowl, and clear water. Hurry!”
He gaped. With sudden understanding, he ran.
I jumped off Ebon, tied him to a tree, used my boot to scrape a spot clean and level.
“Roddy, what are you about?”
“I’ll ask Mother!” Our attack was a shambles. I needed her advice, her experience. I paced with increasing unease until Genard came racing back, out of breath.
“The bowl’s plain and had soup. I rinsed it, but—”
I snatched it from his hand, set it on the level ground. Genard poured.
“Keep your voices low.” I sat cross-legged, waited for the water to settle. I threw my hands atop the bowl.
Hoping, praying, I muttered the words of encant.
Nothing.
I bowed my head, screwed shut my eyes, tried harder. Time had passed; I was rested
. Surely if I strained to my utmost ...
“Roddy, they attack our flank! Call back the foot soldiers!”
I bent anew to my task.
“Roddy!” Uncle Raeth was frantic. “We’ve no time. Look. Thousands, pouring from the wood!”
“Why didn’t our scouts ...”
“They’re incompetent, or worse. They were Tursel’s choosing, not mine.” His face was choleric.
From the battlefield below, screams.
“Tursel’s your own man, Uncle.”
“Before you corrupted him!”
I was speechless.
Larissa stalked across the road. “Enough, Roddy. We’ve lost; call it off. I depart for Soushire within the hour.”
“Traitor!”
She slapped me.
Instantly Kadar’s men seized her. I beckoned them let her go.
Elryc was in tears. “What’s come over us? The foe is near; we can’t afford to quarrel!”
“Oh!” I sank to the ground. “Uncle, it’s the Rood of the Norlands! It sows confusion!” But that meant Hriskil himself was before us. And he wouldn’t take the field without a strong force.
“Nonsense. If you knew what you were doing—” Grumbling, Raeth stalked off to his post further down the road, at what would now be our rear guard.
I placed hands over bowl. If ever in my life I must wield the Still, it was now. I said the words.
Again I spoke them.
And once more, with greatest fervor.
Nothing.
I rose to my feet. Oddly, a great peace descended over me. “Kadar, have the hornsmen blow retreat Send word to Tursel, and Groenfil. Azar—” This to Tantroth’s aide, who’d remained with us—“Bid my lord Tantroth withdraw on the instant. Hurry.” I whirled. “Genard!”
The boy bounded forward.
“Tell Raeth: a rear guard action, ’til our men are over the ridge, and assembled on the road. Then we fall back toward Pezar.”
Elryc said urgently, “Roddy, are you sure? We might—”
“Years ago Mother said the Still might counteract the Rood. Without it we grope in dark.”
“We’re confused and irritable, yes. But Tursel may prevail.”
“No.” I spoke with the relief of assurance. “Why didn’t our scouts find the archers, or give warning of me Norlanders massing on our flank? Why, if not for the Rood, did we choose battle at so foolhardy a spot? Why are we at each other’s throats?” I swung into my saddle. “Turn the wagons about! Elryc, Tresa, up the road with you. Quick, clear the ridge; our returning cavalry will be upon us!” I lashed Ebon, raced up our line. The road would be clogged beyond redemption unless someone took charge.
I slammed a frantic soldier aside with my shield, threaded my way to the wagons. “Get the carts turned or pull them off the road, lest they trap our men!”
Yeomen milled about. I stood high in my stirrups. “Captains, stand forward! You, gather your men, start them east at fast march. You, likewise. Lady Soushire’s troops, assemble to the left. Cumber to the right!”
Behind me, down the road, cries and shouts. My spine prickled. I turned Ebon. Cumber’s rear guard was giving way, far sooner than it ought.
A courier spurred up the ridge, his mount foaming. “Rodrigo! My lord!” He hauled on the reins. “What do you? Tursel needs the foot soldiers below!”
I snarled, “We retreat! Tell him to withdraw!”
“Groenfil’s men are enmeshed. Tursel is desperate to clear them a path.” The courier danced in his saddle. “Tursel says, ‘Rodrigo, countermand your order!’ ”
“I will not!” I drew myself up. “Pull the archers back to the ridge; let them cover our horsemen’s retreat from here. Tell Tursel he has a tenth of an hour’s candle to free Groenfil.”
“You abandon your men!”
I’d just said the contrary. Damn the man for—
It was the Rood. It drove us to crossed swords.
“Give my command, and be quick!” I beckoned a handful of soldiers. “Free that wagon! Move! You, in black! Your duke will be along presently; keep the road clear. Gather your men.”
Kadar grasped my arm. “Sir, you’re flying about. You gave your word.”
“Until Tursel’s among us, who’s to keep order?”
“You, but from the center of march.”
Dusk was falling. The first of Groenfil’s horsemen had appeared over the rise. The ridge, which once had seemed so safe, crawled with our soldiers casting anxious glances down the road, where Cumber’s pikemen and archers fought desperately to hold the narrow path against Hriskil’s thousands.
I’d already sent companies of Tantrom’s Eiberian infantry to strengthen them, but dared not commit too many; if Hriskil’s main force charged the ridge, our rear guard risked being cut off. A demon’s choice: if I didn’t reinforce Raeth, our flank would be rolled. And if I did, I’d mire us in battle, and we couldn’t pivot to make our flank our rear.
Obediently, I trotted Ebon to the center of our line. If I’d do no else this day, I’d keep my vows.
At the wagon that bore my tent, I slowed. “Tanner, where’s Bollert?”
The scruffy urchin grinned. “Under the cart.” It was as safe a place as any.
I gestured furiously; Bollert came at a run.
“Where do you march?”
“By the wagons. In ’em.”
“Not today; they may be plundered. Both of you, run to the front of our line.” I pointed toward what had been our rear.
“Aye, King.”
“Elryc!” I craned my head.
“I’ve got ’im, m’lor’!” Genard cantered around a wagon, holding Elryc’s reins.
“Stay in my sight! Alongside me, in fact. Larissa!”
She lashed at her palfrey with her crop. “You’ve befouled our nest, Rodrigo! Look at us! Imps are laughing. What have you done with Groenfil?”
“He’ll be along.” Pray Lord of Nature it was so. “Where’s Tresa?”
“With her grandfather.”
I reined so hard Ebon neighed in protest. “Is she crazed?”
“No more than Raeth. Or you!”
It was the Rood that made her speak so. Somehow, I must remember.
“I’ll fetch her.”
“You will not.” Kadar barred my way. “Is your word worth nothing?”
In desperation I leaned across, grasped his jerkin. “As you value me, Kadar, go for Tresa. Raeth must be frantic for her safety. Bring her back, across your saddle if need be. I’ll wait here with your guard.”
“I can trust you in this?” His eyes searched mine.
“Please, Kadar!” Perhaps it was my tone. He nodded, cantered down the road.
I pounded my knee. I’d left the ridge, and with it, a view of the field. On the roadway, all I knew of the battle was what runners told me. It was no place for a leader of men.
In the prison of his wagon, Danzik tore at his chains. “Soa qi, Rez! Feran! Soa qi, Hriskil!” I’m here, King! They flee! I’m here!
“Strengthen his chains! Club him to silence!” Cursing, I spurred Ebon. “You, drover! Get that wagon about! Make way.”
A gob of spittle, on my leggings. I paid no heed to Danzik’s frenzy. “Haul him to safety, I won’t have him freed! You there, with my tent, make way for his wagon!” Danzik held more value. Fuming, I watched them work the cart through the tangle of horsemen and foot soldiers.
A courier galloped east, from the last of the roadway we held. “Rodrigo!” The horseman reined in, his mare sweating. “My lord Raeth warns: the Norlanders assemble in force to attack our rear guard. Break off soon, that we may retreat.”
“The moment Groenfil’s extricated.”
As I spoke, the furious clop of hooves along the road. A flurry of horsemen. Lord Groenfil himself, blood dripping from under his helmet. “Coward!” His eyes blazed. “Traitor to your cause!”
I said, “It was a Norland trap, well baited.”
“You left us to die.”
“Tursel’s men fought their way to—”
“But for him, I’d be in Hriskil’s hands!” A gesture that dripped contempt. “Faugh! I’m done with you this day.”
It was the Rood.
I made my tone soothing. “We’ll take counsel after. If you’re determined to depart—”
“I’ll ask not your leave.” He wheeled off to regroup his horsemen.
Tursel’s men, and Groenfil’s, struggled up the rise to rejoin us on the rutted road.
Kadar threaded his way through the milling mass, leading Tresa. He had firm grip on her reins.
Her eyes flashed. “Was this your doing? Grandfather needed me!”
I shouted, “Would you become Hriskil’s whore?”
It shocked her to silence.
Red of face, I cast decorum to the winds. “Have you no sense? One lunge, and you’re in their hands. How can Raeth do his work, or I, with your safety chief among our thoughts?”
“I—” She blushed. “Oh, Roddy.”
“Stay with us, Tresa.” It was a plea. I galloped toward the front of our line. Kadar and his troop raced after.
While Raeth maneuvered to withdraw our rear guard, we fell back eastward, toward Pezar. Groenfil threw his troops protectively around Larissa, and was of no other use. Captain Tursel, weary and distracted, toiled to keep our flight from becoming a rout. The road was too narrow for speed, but no one wanted to be rearmost, in range of Norland arrows or spears.
Atop Ebon, moving about the line, I issued a stream of orders, and helped reduce the chaos of frightened men on the march. But my roaming drove Kadar to distraction. At last I reined in, faced him. “I stay within our line, do I not?” I gave no pause to answer. “Look at Tursel’s mount, bleeding from the kicks he gives it. He can’t be everywhere.”
“Sire, a Norland arrow, a spear—”
“I’m as safe in our center as ever I’ll be.” I lowered my voice. “Help me, Kadar. See the men’s faces? They’re near panic.” As they would be, with the Norland host close behind. “Tursel’s exhausted, and sore of soul. Unless we keep order ...”
“My charge is to guard your life.”
I cried, “What worth my life without all of you?” My wave took in our sweating yeomen, the wild-eyed horses, lumbering carts. The boys racing about, archers and spearmen, our wounded. “The army of Caledon is Rodrigo!” I tugged on the reins. Skittishly, Ebon turned about. “And who’ll preserve order, if not I? Come, Kadar, let us save Caledon and ourselves.”
The King (Rodrigo of Caledon Book 2) Page 19