‘I’m off. Need to shit then eat.’
His replacement said nothing.
Once out of sight, the relieved guards exchanged looks and resisted the temptation to start whispering to one another. Instead they traversed the many passages of the Maw Keep, descending steps whenever they came to them. They descended below the levels lit by sunlight, but moved onwards without taking up one of the torches suspended every so often along the passage walls though more carefully with hands outstretched.
Finally they reached the cellars and yet continued downward, around stores and barrels.
In the deepest dark of the Maw Keep’s cellars, the men-at-arms knocked upon a heavy door in a particular way. It opened slightly and, their identities verified, they slipped into the even deeper dark where Linwood’s hidden regiments bided their time.
Chapter Ten
‘What’s he at?’
‘Who?’
The quartermaster, bracing the ship’s wheel with most of his bodyweight, nodded in the direction of the figure standing on the forecastle.
The master huffed, wringing his hands behind his back.
‘Him? Who knows, but wish the old bugger would stow himself below.’
‘Aye,’ the quartermaster grunted.
Desolation, a three-masted frigate, was running north-east under topsails and mainsails. The master looked up and, weighing up the strength of the wind, decided that it would be premature to lay on the topgallants.
‘Suppose he wants to be first to spy land,’ said the master.
‘If I was him, I’d be tucked up in me hammock with an empty bottle, snoring so loud they’d hear us ashore before we saw any of ‘em,’ said the quartermaster. The master made no reply.
Desolation pitched and rolled, but Linwood kept his feet, bracing himself against the rail that curved forward towards the bowsprit. He was less concerned with sighting land than simply taking the air and admiring the vastness of the ocean. After all, they would happen upon land when it happened, and no amount of scouring the horizon would make it happen any sooner – in Linwood’s experience, it would take all the longer for it.
He was out of armour, which was not his custom, and he felt somewhat jaunty in spirit. The voyage thus far had been reasonably uneventful. A few of the men had died of various ailments, but for the most part the crew and the soldiers packed tightly below remained alive and well, if not in good spirits.
They had put down a number of troops at the southern side of Oystercatcher Bay, which belonged to Crinan. He had left instructions for a small camp to be made up near to the natural harbour, but decided not to leave many men. Aldwyn was sure to commit far greater numbers, but Linwood felt that he was obliged to establish a token foothold until he could return in strength. He had felt similarly about the Folly. So it was that with a garrison in Crinan, not far from the border of the Hinterland and a regiment hidden within the great stronghold of the Taynish, Linwood had once more put to sea and was heading northwards to Stragglers’ Drift, the barren lands to the north of the Impassable Forest.
The grey peaked waves somehow reminded him of the martial advance of men, with blades rising and falling in unison with the rise and fall of shields. Unexpected panic began to stir in him as he made this connection, conjuring some deep fear or trauma, but he continued to hold the rail, controlled his breathing and made an effort to accustom himself to the sensation then dismiss it. He was a great believer in willing down bodily sensation with the power of sheer determination.
The bleak waters, thrashing in every direction, seemed to put everything in perspective. He was but one man, insignificant in the greater scheme of things. The ocean might snatch him to its bed and though many of his own kind would feel the effect, in a few short decades, his name would be forgotten; that was why Crinan had to live on. Though the old country was nothing more than wasteland for now, it was far from insignificant. Of all the land masses known to the Combined People, Linwood was now duke of perhaps the majority. Was it not right then that he could rule his own destiny and no longer bend the knee to the neighbouring country’s ruling line? Lachlan and Cathryn had done well in throwing down Awgren, but now the dust was settling, and it was time to decide how the future was to unfold. Crinan would rise again and would certainly not kneel to the likes of the Taynish monarchy.
What did they know of life in Stragglers’ Drift? Lachlan’s ancestors had landed in the Isles and though they were smaller than Stragglers’ Drift, they were wild, rugged, beautiful and fertile. He envied their existence on those shards thrust far out in the western ocean.
Linwood’s ancestors had been blown off course, and many ships had been wrecked in the uncharted waters. His own sire from those times had crawled on hands and knees from the surf at Strewn Men Bay before collapsing on the beach amongst the dead, dying and simply exhausted. No glorious arrival at their new home for the Crinish – they arrived to the north of the Impassable Forest as humble as a man can be. They had fought hard to carve a life there in that land of stone and unforgiving soil, whipping winds and rain-drenched fields. Linwood’s people had laboured hard to quarry stone to build Stragglers’ End. It was no Folly, but it served.
In time his people began to prosper, though they dressed in no finery and their skin grew rough and calloused from hard work. They battled the land for crops and harangued the livestock into surviving. As it was with all the Combined People, they readied for war and forgot all other concerns. Linwood could wander the Whoreswood in his homeland without naming a single tree, shrub or indigenous animal. There were trees for building, trees for ships and trees for firewood. There were plants for cooking, plants for healing. Animals were prey, companionship or livestock. They had their general names, but all study of flora and fauna was forgotten, except where it served the arts of war. The Stragglers perfected the fighting arts and their small folk mined and quarried. They learned to forge steel.
Linwood turned away from the ocean, nodded to the master and headed below to his cabin. It had been the captain’s, but Linwood had ejected the wisp of a man simply by appearing on the gangplank before ever they had set sail.
Linwood settled at the captain’s desk and reached into the bottom drawer from which he withdrew a bottle of brandy. He stretched out a map of the whole continent and considered his next move, drinking deeply from the bottle as he did so. His people in Crinan would begin to establish a foothold and he would reinforce the position as needs dictated. They would also spy on Aldwyn in the Hinterland. Those in the Folly? On the allotted day, they would take up arms as instructed. His cuckoo eggs, Linwood thought and smiled.
Linwood tapped the Impassable Forest with his forefinger. Here was his great challenge to Lachlan and Cathryn’s rule. He would hasten construction of the road now that the war was done. Dominion of the forest, the Stragglers’ and Crinan would make an invasion of the Hinterland a mere formality.
Aldwyn could be cowed, he had no doubt, but should the duke prove more stubborn than expected, Linwood knew in his heart that he was prepared to crush the man and those who stood by him.
After a solid hour of contemplating coming conquests, Linwood drained his bottle of its contents. He immediately felt his head begin to swim disproportionate to the movement of the Desolation. He stood, faltered and braced himself against the desk.
‘Damn it,’ he said.
Linwood tripped his way across the cabin and managed to clamber up into his cot. He let the brandy set to work on quieting his mind and in a short while, he slumbered, sleeping dreamlessly and unconcerned.
As Linwood slept, Desolation passed by a scattering of small islands and drew in to Strewn Men Bay. The captain ordered that she be hove to and, with her sails set so that near all motion was checked, the great ship waited in the bay.
Linwood stalled till the next morning to make an appearance, when his head was clear. Eager to exercise his arms, he rowed ashore himself. As the small boat ploughed towards the beach, several horsemen came to receive
it and waited at the foreshore.
‘Lord Linwood,’ called his cousin, Lucas, who dismounted while Linwood’s men hauled the boat high up the beach, to the dunes where the sand martins made their nests.
‘Lucas,’ said Linwood, then immediately, ‘What news?’
Lucas extended his hand, and Linwood gripped it for a moment then threw off the proffered hand as though he were disgusted by the touch.
‘How goes the road?’
Lucas frowned and spoke slowly.
‘We have made good progress for months, Cousin, but in recent days there have been mysterious deaths amongst the trees.’
‘Deaths?’
‘Aye, deaths and some disappearances. Men working on the outreaches are found pulverised, smashed or dismembered. Much force, my lord. Very unpleasant deaths, I imagine.’
What death is pleasant? thought Linwood.
‘Have you apprehended the perpetrators?’ said Linwood. He walked up the beach towards the horses with his woollen breeches sticking to his legs and slowing his progress. He paid no heed to the sensation and mounted the steed that had been brought for him.
He turned back to the men in the boat.
‘Tell your captain to send the troops ashore. When the fleet arrives, he should signal them to do the same.’
He turned back to Lucas who started shaking his head.
‘We have caught no one, my lord, but from…’
‘Not we, Lucas, you. Do not spread the blame for your own lack of capability in this matter.’
‘No, Cousin,’ said Lucas, ‘there is more, but I fear you will laugh and think me a fool.’
Linwood’s look seemed to persuade the younger man that this was already the case and so, faltering, but persistent, Lucas told what he had heard.
‘Creatures in the woods?’ said Linwood.
‘I know it is madness, but such is the talk amongst the men.’
‘I have little time for the gossiping of foot soldiers, Lucas. But let us visit the road and see for ourselves.’ He spurred his horse onward.
Lucas, who had been looking forward to ale and meat at Stragglers’ End, followed on reluctantly.
The coast road ran around Strewn Men Bay higher and higher with the cliffs. The skies were filled with circling gulls that nested on the unseen faces of the cliffs below. To the south, the churning ocean stretched off as far as the eye could see to the line where the dark clouds met the surface of the water. To the north, the land sloped gently downwards to fields of sedge grass, broken by harsh rocky ridges and, off in the far distance, settlements and patches of woodland. The Eye Teeth mountain range loomed ahead of them in the east and beyond them, the Impassable Forest. It stretched away towards the old countries for hundreds of miles then finally gave way to the plains between Oystercatcher Bay and the Hinterland, upon which, thought Linwood, Aldwyn was likely marching even now.
The forest had ever vexed him, at first because its impassable enormity meant the invasion of the Devised-controlled old countries would have to come by sea, and now that Awgren was gone, because it stood between him and Crinan. Of course, the plentiful trees had made for a strong fleet and provided hunting grounds which had stirred Lachlan to envy when he had visited years before. Linwood had enjoyed that visit.
In moments of great change, sometimes the reality of a predicament can ease off and fade into the background workings of one’s mind, only to suddenly be hauled forward to send one reeling. This happened to Linwood now as he rode along the coast road, with the mountains and the forest dominating more and more of the horizon. It was unlikely that Lachlan would visit and hunt again on good terms. Had Linwood not sown the seeds of war throughout the continent? He cast aside all feeling of regret, reminding himself that he worked towards a greater purpose now; such machinations as alliance or friendship were insignificant in comparison to building a realm that might continue for a thousand years or more.
Just as the Eye Teeth foothills were rising, Linwood’s men came upon a fork in the road where one branch split away to the north and, after days upon it, Linwood saw the labour camps.
Ranks of campaign tents were headed up by crude wooden lodges where the officers messed. Linwood could see men drilling at arms in spaces between the tents and, further off, horse-drawn carts were hauling felled trees northwards to the great lumber piles. The air was filled with the sound of saws and axe-strokes, both from beside the lumber piles where logs were being hewn into logs and planks, but also from scores of unseen workers in the forest itself.
‘There is no shortage of timber,’ Linwood remarked, mostly to himself as he slowed his horse. Lucas anticipated his next question.
‘We have been reinforcing the most vulnerable parts of the coast, Sire. Palisades are soon to be constructed around all key settlements.’
Linwood nodded, but made no reply. He spurred his mount on, and the party turned east again, heading along the new road towards a gap in the treeline, forty-foot wide, which delved deep into the forest. It was from this gap that the carts bearing felled trees were appearing, and the sound of work came from that direction.
Linwood could not suppress a grin – his plans were advancing. He was swept up in visions of his fortified holds, villages in the forest and a proud road stretching all the way to the Hinterland, where Aldwyn would soon pay homage. The grin faded as, away in the grass to his right, nine graves came into view, marked in the Straggler’s fashion by a single black flag which billowed over the plot.
When they had reached the edge of the forest, Linwood tied his horse’s rein to a makeshift rail by one of the lodges, and asked for the location of the commandant. It became apparent that Lady Isobel had led a company to reinforce the next encampment.
‘Reinforce?’ asked Linwood of the man who now passed him up a wineskin.
‘Aye, m’lord. Yonder on the road.’
‘Is this a battleground, boy?’ huffed Linwood, finishing the wine without passing it to his companions then dropping the skin back into the man’s hands.
‘M’lord. No, m’lord, but men are dying. Lady Isobel has ordered defensive positions be set up amongst the trees – archers and the like. None work alone now.’
Linwood frowned and turned to Lucas.
‘How long is the road as things stand?’
‘A hundred miles in total. There are way-camps every five miles.’
‘Well, gentleman, I have a long ride ahead of me. Lucas, you stay here and wait for word.’
Linwood rode on along the dim road with his great sword at his side. The trees closed about him, and he was swallowed by the forest. He slowed the horse to a canter as he progressed, his senses tuned and, he looked all about him as he rode, wary of any threat.
Guarded as he may have been, Linwood reached the first encampment without incident, and there he found Lady Isobel. Although courteous, Linwood thought she looked harassed by his presence, judging from the redness of her cheeks and the quick rate at which the words fell from her mouth. He decided he had no time for the pleasantries of calming the woman and, tired from his travels, he made his needs known.
‘See that my mount is tended,’ he said to a nearby man, scarce casting a glance to see to whom he was giving instruction. ‘The Lady Isobel and I will be in the command tent, where she will be giving me a briefing on her plans and their progress.’ He shot her a marked look and, as intended, the lady felt the comments were as much instruction to her as information for others.
‘I need meat and wine,’ called Linwood as he trudged in the direction of the command tent.
The brute force of the work was being carried out not far away. Although the road disappeared into the forest, Linwood could see scores of men working to widen the existing path. They were not hacking down trees, but working away at the root with tools, scraping away the earth to expose the great roots then taking these apart with axes. An intimidating oak stood tall, proud and wide, but its feet had been hewn from under it. Linwood watched as two teams of horses we
re urged on and ropes sprung up behind them, secured to the tree. Harried by lashing strokes of whips, these powerful horses hauled, fighting for every step with their hooves digging trenches in the mud. They reached a point of tension where they seemed able to move no further, then suddenly with a creaking and endless, snapping cracks the great oak began to tumble forward. Its branches crunched into the earth and a whoosh of rustling leaves culminated with a heavy, ground-shaking thump. The teams of horses were detached and teams of workers began shaping the tree and removing branches while still more men forged ahead and began work on the roots of yet another oak.
Linwood felt emboldened by such progress and mastery over all of nature’s contrivances. The building of the road would be long, hard work, but in completing it, he would be creating a unified continent.
Inside the command tent there was little light and so he set about opening up the canvas at either end before spreading out maps across Lady Isobel’s desk.
She arrived moments later, and Linwood thought she must have splashed water on her face as she appeared a little more composed. She settled in to the chair at her desk.
‘Little has changed from the original plans other than slight alterations in the course of the road where terrain demanded it. The first stretch will, when complete, emerge by the shore of the Black Lake. A settlement has been established there by advance parties, and work on the second leg has also begun. They have cut some thirty miles southeast towards the plains on the east coast, though I have authorised a few changes there.’ Isobel looked up and met Linwood’s eyes, confident in her decision but nervous of his reaction.
‘Rather than cut straight across and leave camps in the open, away from resources, I chose to extend the route around the eastern treeline of the forest, with settlements at intervals. These are better positioned to make use of the forest for water, food and timber.’
Linwood nodded and, encouraged, Isobel went on.
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