We settled in the spartan tent; it was furnished with two stools, a straw bed with torn blankets, nothing more. Tantroth looked me over. “You look ghastly, sire.”
You don’t look so good yourself, old fellow. “I’m not fully recovered.”
“From?”
“There was a cave ...” That was part of it. About Genard, I wouldn’t speak.
“Yes, they claimed you were dead. Thereafter, when we met Hriskil’s people, I gave no quarter, even to those captured. Perhaps, had I known ... How long was it?”
“Sixteen days.” Forever.
“You’re all bones still, and there’s an odd hue to your skin.”
I smiled, and explained my disguise. Not all the dye had come off quite yet. Soon we got down to business. I asked, “What have you accomplished?”
“Not as much as I hoped. But we’ve kept them off balance.” He hesitated. “It can’t last. They have the towns. Without Eiber Castle, we’ve no place to winter.”
“Would more troops help?”
“Need you ask?”
I said, “Groenfil will join you.”
His ears perked up. “Where?”
“At Pezar. In ...” I stopped to think. “Three days.”
“The Norlanders hold Pezar.”
I nodded. “We’ll need help Groenfil through.”
“March to the pass and mount an attack on the wall? Three days? You’ll exhaust the men, sire. Even the horses will—”
“Dawn of the third day. Simultaneous attack from both sides.”
He chewed his lip. “I suppose it can be done. We’ll take heavy losses.”
“Perhaps not.” I knew of no other way to consolidate our force.
“We’ll need march in a few hours. I’ll give the orders.” He left abruptly.
Later, sated with lamb, sleepy, I made ready for bed. Before dousing the candle, I called for Elryc and Genard. To my brother, I said, “In the morning, see you bathe nude at the stream. Let the troops see you every day.”
He shifted with discomfort, being of that age. “Is it necessary?”
“Yes.” Let them think I’d healed him with the Still; it added to my aura. And as for you, Genard ...” I gentled my tone. “I salute your heroism, as does the prince. I pray you, let it be unknown among the men.”
Genard met my eyes. “I’ll keep covered.”
“If our yeomen see Elryc uncut, soon will townsmen hear of it. Then Hriskil. His fear will augment.”
“Does he fear us?”
I smiled. “Why should he not?”
As Tantroth had promised, it was a hard march to Pezar. Even our light supply wagons were a strain on the lean and hungry horses. Tantroth’s was primarily a cavalry force, but he’d gathered and maintained some infantry in his wanderings, and now numbered near two thousand. As we slipped from hillock to dell, avoiding roads wherever possible, my admiration grew of his knowledge of the land. For years he must have roamed his domain, memorizing every outcrop.
Two days and half the second night we tramped through the hills, until at last he made temporary camp a mere stone’s throw from the Pezar pass. Men huddled around the slightest of campfires, officers vigilant lest too high a blaze reveal our force to the foe. Tantroth didn’t bother to throw up the tents; we all sat exhausted with the men. I saw to it Elryc had extra blankets, and a plentitude of tea.
The night dragged on. Quietly, Tantroth made his dispositions. “You know,” he muttered, “that we attack the defended wall. It’s Groenfil has the easy task, coming up behind.” He stared moodily into the embers. “If he’s late ... if he holds back ...”
“He won’t.”
“I’d not slaughter our men to no avail.”
“I know.” Then, “You’re a fine commander, my lord.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve just learned so?”
I concealed a smile.
In morn, it was still dark when we scuffed out the embers, assembled near the trail.
I embraced my brother, clapped Anavar on the shoulder, found a kind word for Genard. I checked the cinches, adjusted my saddle, mounted my eager stallion. “Hold, boy.” He snorted steam. “If you’re to be mine, I’ll need name you. What shall it be?”
He gave no answer.
“Racer? Grayboy? Warrior?”
Tantroth cantered past. “Pezar!” He pointed. Behind him, the rumble of hooves.
“Pezar!” I patted his flank. “You’ll be Pezar, in honor of this day.”
Uncle Raeth’s wall, from the Eiber side, was steep and forbidding. We had far fewer troops to throw at it than when we’d defended it from Hriskil. Now it was the Norlanders who manned its works, and we who trudged across the field, in the day’s first light.
Tantroth—abetted by Anavar—urged me not to expose myself before the foe, but I argued, most reasonably, I thought, that my presence would hearten our men and dismay the Norlanders. Surely by now the barbarians thought me impossible to kill.
“Yes, but always you try to prove them wrong.”
Be that as it might, I rode Pezar proudly, not quite in the first rank, but well forward of the center. My raised sword glinted in the sun, my voice was hoarse from encouraging our ranks. My shield, I left strapped, as virtually useless.
The Norland archers took aim.
“Lances set!”
I sheathed my sword, lifted my lance from its dangling scabbard, set it in the pocket near my pommel. Most of our men were dismounted, as they need be to assault a wall. We lancers would do our best to keep the foes’ heads down while our men climbed.
The first volley whirred down among us. Some, not too many, fell.
In the distance, a commotion. I glanced back, but saw only our rows of marching men. I raised myself in the saddle. Did bowmen run along the parapet? Did eyes peer south, behind the wall?
Yes. I was sure of it. “CHARGE!” My shout echoed from the rock. I gouged Pezar’s flanks. He bounded forward.
In moments I was below the wall. I leaped from the saddle, clung one-handed to an arrow slit, my lance waving. I dropped it, hauled myself up, rolled over the battlement Norlanders gaped. I whipped out my sword. “CALEDON!” I lunged. A man went down.
Beside me, frantic Eiberians swarmed up the wall. Like a madman, I laid about, secure in the knowledge that whomever I hit must be a foe.
All about me now, the clang of steel, shouts of the enraged and wounded.
Suddenly, from the court beneath the wall, the thud of steps. I braced for new attack, but one face, I knew. “Kadar!” I spun to the battlement, shouted down to our troops, “Groenfil’s among us!” It was all they needed to hear. Even the slowest among them quickened their pace. Soon the wall was awash with Caleds and Eiberians, and the Norland defenders were driven inexorably to the edge. One by one they plunged, and were hacked to pieces by aroused Caleds.
Now foemen threw away their arms, the quicker to hide themselves in the brush. On both sides of the wall, our men took up the grim hunt.
My two commanders tried to put a stop to the slaughter and eventually made their orders heard. The last of the Norls fled into the woods.
Road and field were strewn with enemy dead. Our losses were few, though none the less regrettable for that. Of prisoners, we had but a dozen; the battle had been fierce and quarter neither given nor asked.
Tantroth fell on the abandoned Norland stores and the few fresh horses left behind.
I walked the wall and came face-to-face with the earl. Groenfil seemed unutterably weary. His eyes were bleak.
I bowed, an extended bow of youth to elder. “Well met, my lord.” My tone was exultant.
“Roddy.” The hint of a smile. “I rejoice to see you. Elryc’s safe?”
“And Genard. They’re in camp.”
Danzik climbed the stairs, stepping over blood and dismembered bodies. His mouth was grim.
I said, “Danzik, hail. We thank thee for thy service.”
A grunt. “Pretty words.” But he essayed a
small bow, in the Caled manner.
Groenfil cleared his throat, gestured to the man at his side. “You’ve met my son—”
“Horst, yes. Lord Tantroth!” I waved the duke near. “Do you know—”
“Save greetings for later.” Horst’s tone was harsh. “Leave the prisoners. Without pikes and bows, they’re useless. Make haste: we must be off.”
“Horst!” Groenfil was stiff with reproof.
The younger man ignored his father’s rebuke. “Rodrigo, Caledon is lost. I join you from the ruins of Castle Groenfil, where my brother, Franca, lies dead. Our rear guard bleeds that we may stand here prattling. The Norlander cavalry pursued us from Groenfil to Cumber, from Cumber to the pass. They’re scant hours behind.”
“They’re more than that.” Groenfil protested. “Our guard slows them.”
“Not so much more. A day at most. A day and a half.”
My joy had vanished. “Very well. Tantroth, where ought we to camp?”
The old duke grunted. “A good day’s march, if Norlanders are on our heels. I’d not have them sniff us out.”
It was near noon. I sighed. “Gather the stores they abandoned.” We were desperate for resupply.
We halted briefly at our camp of the night before. We gathered our sick and wounded and put our wagons in train.
Danzik swung down from his mare. “Iot horn!” He lifted Elryc like a babe, enveloped him in a bear’s hug. Elryc dangled, pleased and embarrassed.
We set out. Elryc basked in Danzik’s attention, Anavar in mine. Groenfil looked tired and exceedingly worn. He chatted with Tantroth, when the duke wasn’t spurring ahead to guide our march. Genard settled to a long sleep on a jouncing wagon and awoke much the better for it. For a time I drowsed in the saddle; I’d had too many nights under the stars. I woke abruptly when Groenfil handed me a scroll he’d brought.
I tore off the ribbon.
“To Rodrigo, king of Caledon, heartfelt greetings from his cousin and affianced Tresa of Cumber ensconced in Castle Stryx.
“Oh, Roddy, I miss you. What do men see in war? As long as need be, I’ll play ‘Lady of the Hill’; it dazzles and pleases our yeomen. But it’s mummery, no more. ‘The king’s consort’ ... now, there’s a station I relish, and would more so, were it already true.”
Anavar, riding alongside, peered over my shoulder. I held the letter closer.
“I regret so to tell you old Nurse Hester died in sleep a week past. We buried her near your mother the queen; it seemed apt. She thought well of you, Roddy, though she was loath to admit it.
“The Norlanders occupy the town of Stryx. Rustin fortified the Keep with vigor and ingenuity and commands the greater part of our force, which we’ve crowded behind his walls for our mutual protection. But he dares not sally forth to battle, lest with his defeat the Keep be lost, and thus our castle above.”
“Is it from Tresa? Is she well?”
“Yes, boy. Shush.”
“In the past few days the Norlanders seem to have decided on a siege, drawing up catapults and engines of war. They haven’t been brutal, as was Hriskil before Pezar. Asking little of the town, they haven’t drawn its enmity as did Sarazon. I fear they’ll have little trouble wintering in Stryx.
“Can you break the forthcoming siege? If so, will you winter with us? We might bundle, you and I, even if the restraints of your Power prohibit else. I imagine your gentle fingers caressing me and grow warm. Surely you won’t lose the Still for a kiss, even one such as startled you when last we met.
“Oh, my King, my friend, my Rodrigo! I miss you more than words might reveal.”
“What is it, Roddy? Why do you grin?”
“I must break off. Willem says the Norlanders infiltrate the lesser trails even as we speak The courier who bears this may be the last.
“Love, affection and respect from the Mummer of the Hill, Tresa of Cumber.”
Our column staggered into our new camp, the men utterly exhausted. Tantroth’s troop had endured days of fast march capped by a short night and hard battle, then a full day’s march after. Groenfil’s horsemen were hardly in better shape.
Hours passed in a bustle of tent pegs, fodder, campfires and cookpots.
As soon as we were settled, we held council of war, in Tantroth’s tent, the largest we had.
Danzik, admitted by courtesy, sat behind our circle, content to listen. Anavar and Elryc perched cross legged on the tattered carpet. Nearby was Kadar, once my bodyguard, present perhaps because he’d been among us so long.
Groenfil glanced to Horst. The young man folded his arms and glowered.
“Well,” I said brightly. “How is it no one will speak?”
Groenfil turned to Tantroth, who shook his head.
With some apprehension, I studied the lot of them. “What ails you all?’
“They’re afraid.” Anavar.
“Of what?”
“Crushing your hopes.”
A pulse throbbed in my jaw. “Go ahead. Crush them.”
Silence.
“I’ll do it, if none else dare.” Horst. “Lord Rodrigo, few care to admit your cause is lost, but it’s so. We hold not a single strongpoint in Caledon or Eiber save Stryx, and that’s under siege.”
“Go on.” My voice was soft.
“While you were off rescuing your brother, mine died. Hriskil—no, he’s gone to winter in Ghanz, but his army—pressed their siege. My father rode to our salvation a bare instant before we’d have capitulated. For a moment, he broke through, and some of us were saved.” To the earl, a look of gratitude. “The Norland host from Soushire chased us through Caledon, and pursue us still.”
“What else?”
“Verein’s fallen. The Norlanders hold Soushire, and Lady Larissa is dead.”
I said, “Verein’s walls weren’t man—”
“Cumber’s in Norland hands—we had to skirt the castle—and Bouris’s head is on a pike; he watched our passage, unseeing. The pursuing Norlanders have retaken Pezar, and we can’t mount a successful attack from the north against the face of the wall. By your command, we’re trapped in Eiber, where the foe holds Wyvern, Eiber Castle, Norpoint, Windcave, all the seacoast villages.”
Horst’s voice rode on, flinty and inexorable. “In Caledon ... Searoad Cross, Warthens Gate Road, Fort, name the place and they hold it!”
“Stryx.”
“They’ll have it by the snows.”
“How say you so?”
“They have all else. What has Stryx to resist them?”
My voice was hot. “Rustin of the Keep. Willem. Lady Tresa.”
“They’re valiant, I have no doubt, but undersupplied. My father says our treasury is exhausted—is that true, sire?”
Reluctantly, I nodded.
“—arms and stores are desperately short, and we’ve no base from which to resupply. Do you understand what that means, Rodrigo? An army can’t march on dreams. We need—”
“Horst.” Groenfil’s tone was low. “He is your king. Speak with respect or—”
“King of what? Don’t glare, Father, someone must say it. What does the House of Caledon yet rule?”
Groenfil snapped, “Me.” Beyond the tent, wind whipped the branches. “And you, if you’d have peace between us.”
Horst spat out me words. “Am I wrong in any particular?”
No one spoke.
Again Horst took up the cudgels. “I’ll grant you, Rodrigo’s struggled for his dreams. Straggled nobly. But dreams are cockleshell ships that smash on the rocks of fact. Here’s a fact, my lord King: the army must eat. We’ve no food, and if we confiscate what little the peasants grow, they’ll turn on us in an instant.” He waited for rebuttal, but none came. I rested chin on hands.
“The horses are starved and failing,” said Horst, “and in a month there’ll not even be grass. We need oats, hay, barns. We need shelter beyond tents, the more so that we roam high hills. We need refill our quivers. We want smithies, armor, tack, saddles. More horses
. We need replenish our numbers, but from where? Caledon, our base, is lost. Rodrigo, I wish it weren’t I who must ask, but answer this: where will we winter? And in spring, when Hriskil ventures forth, where will we flee?”
I swallowed.
“In fact, even now, you’ve no retreat—”
I growled, “You’ve said enough. Who else would speak?”
Tantroth’s tone was stubborn. “I want Eiber. I’ll fight from the hills ’til it’s mine.”
I said gently, “Have you the strength to take Eiber Castle?”
“Well, if we—no.” A bleak sigh. “No.”
“How many men will you have left, by spring?”
“Some will stay.”
A long silence.
“Groenfil?”
“I don’t—it’s not mine to choose whether ...” The earl looked beyond me, to the canvas wall. “Sire, I’ve lost near all I love. It’s not your fault Hriskil pounced. But my home is seized, Larissa hanged—yes, I loved her, how can I deny it?—my beloved Franca gutted in our muddy courtyard. Horst is all I have left, and I’ll not lose him. I send him south. If he evades their patrols—”
“I won’t go.”
“Youngsire, don’t dare defy me.” It was said quietly, and silenced Horst utterly. “As for me, my liege, I’ve little left to lose. So if you’d fight, I’ll follow.”
I asked, “Have we a chance?”
“There’s always—”
“Speak truth.”
Groenfil brooded. “I see no chance.”
“Anavar?”
“I’m of Caledon. I fight until my liege says nay.”
Tantroth raised a sardonic eyebrow. “You’re of Eiber, youngsire.”
“No longer. I’m sworn to Rodrigo, and am content so.”
I said, “None question your courage, not even my lord Tantroth. You’re privy counselor and baron. How advise you?”
His eyes glistened. “You want Caledon with all your heart. How can I advise other?”
My tone was forlorn. “You just did.” After a moment, “Elryc?”
“You’re a wonder, Roddy, know you so?” His boy’s voice trembled. “With nothing but courage, you sent Hriskil fleeing home to Ghanz. In days to come, they’ll tell of Rodrigo’s War, over hearths in long winter nights. Your defense of Pezar, your march through the Sands. They’ll speak of Rustin and Roddy, heroes of old.”
The King (Rodrigo of Caledon Book 2) Page 60