Tantroth shook his head. “A full ten thousand troops, I warrant. At least half are ashore by now, more by the time we threw ourselves on them. And they’ll be ready for us. If they’ve any communication with their king, they know we’re wandering the hinterlands.”
“What, then?”
“It depends on the orders of their commander. And his mettle.”
“How can we know that?” No one answered. I jerked, as if struck by a shaft. “I have it. We’ll need envoy.”
“Why?” Groenfil.
“Ride to the city under truce. Say Rodrigo’s army would discuss terms. Ask—”
“Roddy!”
“Ask with whom we treat.”
“And what good that? We know not the Norland chieftains!”
I smiled. “Is that so?”
In two hours, our column turned about in good order, to make for Soushire. We judged we’d have one good night’s rest before Hriskil might near us, and forced marches thereafter.
At dusk our envoy from Stryx found us camped. His horse was spent, and his forehead and clothes bore the dust of the road. He crouched by the log on which I perched with my dinner. “Sarazon, sire. Related to the king. He’s authorized to take your surrender and give you passage to any realm that will have you, once he has suitable hostages.”
“Hostages?”
“Your brother, and certain nobles.”
“Bah. Take a bowl of stew. Bollert, see his horse is well tended.” I set down my plate. “Genard? Elryc, might you spare your man? It’s time for our lesson.”
Danzik sat in front of his tent. I gave it a baleful glance; it was near as good as the canvas I now shared with Anavar and sometimes Elryc. I missed my opulent royal shelter—the carpets, the clever devices, most especially the chest full of my clothes and Rustin’s.
“Guiat.” I bent stiffly, a short bow, as one might confer on a tutor. “Liste memor.” I’m ready to learn.
“Rez Caledi.” He nodded. Nothing today about our mothers. Perhaps we’d grown beyond that.
“Your king sends—Genard, how do you make enva into ‘sent’?—enve many ships. They occupy Stryx.”
Danzik’s eyes lit in satisfaction.
“I might—” I spoke carefully, so not to violate the True. “—might take up your offer to speak to Hriskil.”
“I save your life. But not your army.”
“Sarazon too offered me safety, but I don’t know that I can trust a fat old man. Genard, help me say it right.” Together, we pieced it out. “One who commands only because he has the king’s blood.”
Danzik scowled. “Sarazon more than uncle to king. Fought Ukras for years.”
“Guiat, would I be safe with him? Does he keep his word?”
The Norlander twisted his beard. “Vade is different for you Caleds. Our people think ... much honor in clever trick.”
“He thinks so?”
“Once, when the Ukras sent envoy ...” He launched into an involved tale wherein a Norland force savaged a Ukra column that thought it had negotiated safe-conduct. In the telling, we had to act out a host of unfamiliar words.
At length I said, “But you could trick us and desera, escape, and didn’t. Why? Isn’t there vade in it?”
“Qay, er campa Hriskili.” Yes, in Hriskil’s field.
I shivered. “To board a Norland ship, be in Sarazon’s power ...” Genard shot me a glance but said nothing. I said impulsively, “Tell me of this man.”
“He not command ships self. He wars land, not sea.” Danzik broke a branch across his knee, tossed it into the fire. “Land, good soldier, keeps army fed, enough wagons.” He grinned. “On sea ...” He made a retching motion, hand to mouth. “Don’t like waves.”
“How old is he? Has he children?”
“Sixty summers? More. Two girls. Put aside three wives for boy. None.”
I blurted, “Have you children, Guiat?”
His face grew somber. “One. Had. Dead.”
“War?”
“Not battle. Ukra raid. My family desera. Ukra perse, to hills. Son die, cold.” He smiled. “Have you children, rez?”
For what I’d asked, I owed him answer. “No. Do you know what is required of me?”
A mischievous glint. “Han farang.”
“Yes,” I said quietly. “Han farang.”
Danzik stared into the flames. At length he said, “Sarazon good at lead many men. They eat, shelter, horses fed. Not clever at fight. Don’t like ...” He scratched his head, acted out a new word: fova. Small battle? No, few men. Aha: skirmish.
“Nor do I. Danzik, have you ever seen Ghanz?”
His look wondered if I’d taken leave of my senses. “Of course.”
“You saw Stryx, from a distance. Which is bigger?”
We passed an hour while Genard yawned. I learned of Ghanz’s thriving markets, of Winesellers’ Way, where each stall’s wares were unique, not to be found at the neighbors’. I fished out a few Norland coins; Danzik taught me their money and what it would buy. When we were done, I called for cold wine, tilted it over my head, had a mouthful, left Danzik the rest of the skin.
I wandered about until I found Groenfil, took him to Tantroth’s tent. “Sarazon’s about sixty, has been through three wives, has two daughters. Has no honor as we know it, but loves a good trick.”
Tantroth’s jaw fell.
“He’s no admiral, seasick whenever he leaves port. He’s Hriskil’s uncle, primarily an administrator. He’ll tend his supply lines, but he’s no tactician. Prefers a decisive set battle to skirmishing.”
“Roddy?”
“Yes, my lord Duke?”
“How do you do that? Is it the Still?”
I swelled. “I listen. I’ve learned how, of late.”
For the moment, we judged, Sarazon would be content to deny us Stryx while he formed his troops for battle. Only when all was ready would he set forth to smash us on the anvil that was Hriskil. Some relief that; it afforded us days, perhaps weeks, to maneuver.
Meanwhile, Hriskil’s massive army approached Groenfil’s domain. The castle walls were thick and cunning, the granaries and barns well stocked. If the Norlander was utterly determined, the castle would fall, but not this season.
The southern hills were full of brush-filled ravines and steep canyons. An army, ours or his, could hide itself for days. Tursel’s scouts would be busy, seeking our safe passage. If Hriskil paused to subdue Groenfil, our way was clear east to Soushire and beyond. Or, should we choose, we could tarry in the hills and strike from time to time at his besieging forces.
But if Hriskil bypassed Groenfil Castle and spread himself across the hills, he’d block our path to Soushire and force a battle for which we were ill prepared.
Tresa came to visit, while I fretted in my tent. “What news of Castle Stryx?”
My tone was bleak. “None.”
“Your affairs go not well.”
Did she chide me? I studied her gaze, but found no accusation, no pity. “No, my lady.” I grimaced. “I meant to give you sanctuary, in Stryx. Now I cannot.”
“There’s rumor—” Though we were in my tent she looked about, dropped her voice. “—that you weigh throwing yourself on Hriskil’s mercy.”
I shot to my feet. “Who spreads such calumny?”
“You, I think.” The ghost of a smile. “I heard it from Genard.”
“Where would he get the notion—oh!” Our talk with Danzik. Naturally, I hadn’t taken the stableboy into my confidence. “Is he fool enough to tell the camp? We’ll have desertions by the score!” I flung open the flap.
“I admonished him. He’ll be silent.” Her voice coaxed me back to the stool. “I told Genard it was a ruse.”
“How did you know?”
“By knowing you.”
I sat on my rude stool, covered my face with my palms. “Tresa, when we’re vanquished, what will become of you?”
“Would you I shared your exile?”
I nodded, not trusting
myself to reply. I would have no exile. Any Norland ship that carried me would mysteriously disappear, after my bloodied corpse sank into the deep. I sought to divert my thoughts. “How might we restore our fortunes?”
She pondered. “When did Caledon last send envoy to the Ukras?”
“In Mother’s reign, many years past. Josip, my father, lived. Why?”
“Tantroth was your foe ... until Hriskil fell on Eiber.”
“Yes, he couldn’t guard his back and—you’d have me entice the Ukras to attack?” I gaped. “Do imps dance on your shoulder? Their realm dwarfs the Norlands, which overwhelms ours. Once roused ... The Ukras would certainly command Hriskil’s attention. What might incite them against Hriskil? Then my senses returned. “Would you have war engulf our world? Where our refuge then?”
“Where our refuge now?”
Hriskil made but a languid siege at Groenfil. No miners, no sappers, no towers abuilding to threaten the battlements. Almost with indifference, he waylaid the castle environs.
On the third day, a wagon appeared in the field before the gate. The slaughter began.
Groenfil’s son Franca led a sortie and was repulsed. The wagon was wrecked, but what matter that? Another creaked into place.
In Groenfil’s tent we held council of war. Before he could speak I said, “We must draw Hriskil away.” And put end to the wagons of corpses.
Lady Soushire stirred, her eye on a tray of sweets that had not yet been passed. “Where would you fight? The terrain offers no advantage.”
“In open field, then.” I paced the confines of the tent, far more comfortable than my own. “If fortune smiles, we’ll maneuver to our profit.”
Elryc said mildly, “You can’t wish them from outnumbering us.”
“What, then?” My glare withered each in turn: Tursel, Groenfil, Tantroth, Anavar, Soushire.
Tantroth said wearily, “Eiber is Hriskil’s. Better I’d remained in our hills to harass him. Cumber is his, and now Stryx. Of strong points, we’re left but Groenfil and Soushire.”
“And Verein.” Lady Larissa. She stretched for the tray, chose a sweet, reluctantly offered the assortment to Elryc, who sat near.
My tone was dour. “Verein’s more Hriskil’s than ours.” I knew Uncle Mar would cede Verein to the Norlanders rather than see it mine.
Since Margenthar had fled into the wood after our attack on his camp, little had been heard from him. Perhaps he’d slipped home, with a remnant of his force. Perhaps he was this very moment comfortably ensconced in the Norland fold. And if so—
“Roddy, do you agree?”
I blinked. Groenfil waited expectantly.
“I’m sorry, my lord. I wasn’t ...” I steeled myself. “I wasn’t listening.”
To my surprise, the corners of Groenfil’s mouth turned up. “Thank you for your candor. I asked if it would not serve us best to meet Hriskil before Groenfil Castle, whose defenders may sally forth in concert. And if we break through to reinforce my sons, we’ll make his siege a great travail.”
“If that were our aim, better we’d remained there.” I sat, scratched my head. “I confess, I know not what would best serve us. A solution is beyond me.”
Groenfil’s tone was dry. “A touch less candor, my liege.” To Larissa, “My lady?”
“What you’d add to your walls in strength, Sergo, you’d cost in food and fodder. How long would our army’s presence diminish your ability to hold out? A year?” Sergo? Had he another name? For a year, I’d called him naught but Groenfil.
“We’d consume substantial provender. Your point?”
“Why not Soushire?” She spoke by turns to us all. “You’ve all seen my holding. My walls are high, my granaries bursting to overflowing, my barns exceeding well stocked with hay and corn.”
Her voice sharpened. “No accident that it is thus. I’ve squandered no silver on fripperies, no gold on silks, puff mattresses, fine-carved chairs. For these four years, since Elena sickened, I’ve feared it must come to this, and I’ve prepared. Soushire has sturdy walls, swords, arrows, pikes and oil for a host of defenders, ample dwellings to house a garrison. All it lacks, sire, is men.”
“Madam—”
“I’m ludicrously undermanned! Troops you’ve beguiled from me in hopeless quest of your crown!” Her eyes flashed fire. “Do I complain, Roddy, and saddle my mare to ride this very night? No, though you’ve squandered your patrimony and made no decent defense of your kingdom, I invite you, my liege, to share my bounty. I only ask, help me deny it to Hriskil!”
Well.
None, including Groenfil, cared to speak.
I cleared my throat. “There’s the wagon of death.”
“What purpose that Hriskil soak Groenfil’s earth with blood, if you won’t be drawn?”
“Soon or late,” I said, “the wagon will appear at Soushire.”
Larissa popped the last sweet between her teeth. “No doubt it will.” She chewed. “Rodrigo, to accept war is to accept death. If you’re so thin of skin as to abhor the loss of churls, why, then, abdicate.”
All eyes were on her.
“Well, it’s so! He’ll set the wagon by the orchard, I warrant. A fine view from the wall, but out of archers’ range. Will I tear my hair like our dear friend Tantroth? No. Will I demand we sally forth to put end to it? No, I won’t call my compatriots to futile death.” She swallowed, looked sadly at the empty tray.
“Madam, we can’t let—”
“Sir, we can!” She stood, smoothing her skirts. “Further, we must! In your eagerness to cloak yourself with blame, you overlook the cause. Hriskil kills our folk! WE DO NOT!”
Groenfil cleared his throat. “Larissa ...”
“No, Sergo, it must be said. Roddy beats his breast so, it must be constant black and blue. But ours is not the guilt! Let Hriskil wipe the villages of those yeomen too witless to flee, I’ll hold fast! Because we do not this awful thing, Hriskil does! Can you men not comprehend?”
Anavar shot to his feet, knocking over his empty flagon. “I comprehend that you care not for—”
“Youngsire, do not—”
“I pray thee, Rodrigo, let me speak! Please!” His eyes glistened. “My lady, I feel yet the knife Tursel’s minion held to my throat, the day of my capture. He’d have put an end to me, and why not? We did the same, our men of Eiber, in the borderlands with Cumber. My lord Tantroth—” Anavar swiveled. “—with respect, sir, you were wrong in this. And you, Captain Tursel. The king taught me mercy. And as he’s learned compassion, so have I!”
“It’s Hriskil who kills, not—”
“Aye, my lady, but it’s we who must halt him. We cannot bolt ourselves into castles and watch our vassals butchered. By their oaths to us we owe them their lives!”
Tantroth of Eiber stirred. “Our liege has taught you, youngsire.”
Anavar said, “I beg thee don’t mock, my lord. I spoke my heart.”
“And mine.” For a moment, their eyes met. Some understanding passed between them. “My lady,” said Tantroth heavily, “I cannot accept your gracious offer. I shall seek Hriskil. I’m sorry, Roddy, if I must disobey you in this.”
I took deep breath. “You do not.”
Twenty-six
BEFORE GROENFIL CASTLE, THE army of Caledon formed in line of battle, Tantroth’s horse to the left, Groenfil’s to the right, Tursel commanding the center.
Beside him, I sat astride Ebon, for our soldiers to see. Not an hour past, I’d exhorted our men until my voice was hoarse. We could not flee evil, I’d said. We must best it, lest the wickedness snuff our souls like a damp blanket a fire. One more victory, and Hriskil might tire. One more stand, and the Norlanders lose heart.
Almost, I believed it. But the battle, I knew had purpose. A week past, when we’d marched bravely out of Groenfil, Stryx was open to us. Now, with Stryx Castle under siege, Groenfil was one of our last bulwarks. We must deny it to Hriskil.
Our supply wagons were half a day’s march to the rear, a
t our camp twixt Groenfil and Soushire. Elryc, despite his pleas, languished among them. Bouris too, under Danzik’s guard. And, of course, Tresa.
Behind our line, Lady Soushire’s troops awaited orders, our meager reserve. The lady herself sat stolidly on her palfrey, perhaps unwilling to be separated, even for hours, from her guards.
Anavar waited alongside me, entrusted with my Vessels. The moment I felt the Rood at work, I would dismount and set my palms over the bowl.
Tantroth turned his horse, trotted the distance of our line. “Sire.”
“My lord.”
“Fare thee well.”
“And thee.” I added abruptly, “You shall not die this day.”
Tantroth looked startled. Then, “If you err, I shan’t forgive it.” He wheeled, cantered back to his troops.
Anavar murmured, “Was it the Still told you?”
No, but what harm the gift of hope? I had little else to bestow.
“Will I die, sire?”
I growled. “Not until you repay the last advance of stipend.”
“Then, pardon, sire, I shall keep your silvers.” Anavar’s nerves were as taut as mine.
I said to Tursel, “Franca and Horst will know when to break out?”
“Their father, Groenfil, assures us. Sire, it’s time.”
I hesitated, thrust down dread. “Advance the center.”
At the signal our men trudged forward, pikemen before all. The archers strode behind, weighed down with sheaves of shafts. As always, pikemen would protect them while they loosed through and over the Norland lines.
Anavar asked, “Groenfil knows when to charge?”
“Of course.” I frowned. A foolish query.
Tursel paced his mount, standing in his stirrups to watch the field. “If Tantroth delays again, men die without need. What’s Azar doing? Can’t he hold his place?”
“I don’t need your chatter, you—” Astonished I bit it off.
Anavar’s eyes met mine. “The Rood.”
“Yes.” I swung out of the saddle. “Quickly now.” I sat cross-legged on the crushed grass. The boy jumped down, unwrapped the bowl, set it in my lap. Quickly he unstoppered the ewer.
A runner dashed across the field. “My lord Groenfil warns you’d best look sharp when the lines clash. Wait too long, and—”
The King (Rodrigo of Caledon Book 2) Page 35