More artillery shells fell on the center of the Ansgari line. Explosions marked the detonation of the shells and the advance of the loyalist center finally slowed to match the rest of the line. Magnus swept his looking glass from one end to the other, glanced at his trenches and the waiting soldiers there, and then closed his eyes for a brief moment.
The sun was beginning to creep over the horizon and had cast a golden glow on the battlefield. The sun beat down on the approaching Ansgari forces, hopefully blinding them against what was to come.
“Captain Mathison, signal the cavalry charge,” Magnus said.
The signalmen had taken their positions when the sun had finally slipped over the horizon. Now they worked their flags vigorously. When the orders finally reached the waiting cavalry below, a blast on a trumpet sounded and the horses surged forward.
As his cavalry passed between the trenches and into the open field, Magnus focused his looking glass on the Ansgari cavalry. He couldn’t make out the officers on the other side of the field, but the cavalry had not immediately responded, with the sun in their eyes. Good.
The center Ansgari division saw what was coming, however, and the soldiers stopped to form solid lines. One line of soldiers knelt, the second line stood behind them. The cavalry spurred their horses to a gallop and charged headlong into the first Ansgari volley. Many of the cavalry fell, but many more continued on, merging with the Ansgari forces before a second volley could be mustered.
Now bring out your reserves, Magnus pleaded silently.
If Eadric responded to the loss of his center division in the same way that he had at Gregory, one of the loyalist reserve units would be sent forward to reinforce and replace their fallen compatriots.
A corner of Magnus’ mind wondered what would happen if Eadric had learned from his experience at Gregory and used the flanking divisions to reinforce the center instead. It would leave two full divisions of reserves at his camp and his cavalry would end up trapped in close combat with more soldiers than they had expected.
“Enemy outer flanks are shifting, Your Grace,” Captain Mathison reported. “It looks as if they are preparing to fend off a flanking attack.”
“Interesting,” Magnus noted as he used his looking glass to confirm the signal officer’s report.
“Enemy reserves are moving!” another scout shouted. “A full division into the center!”
The enemy reserves ran to fill the center of their line before the Kerberosi cavalry had a chance to break the line completely and attack the rear of the outer divisions, or worse, charge the Ansgari trenches. Likewise, the Ansgari cavalry had also started to move: they swept ahead of the charging reserves to meet their counterparts in the open field.
“Signal cavalry retreat,” Magnus ordered as he watched the advancing reserves carefully. A brief moment of fear rushed through his mind, but he brushed it aside. “Signal the second attack!”
A fifteen-pound cannon boomed. Seconds later, an orange and red flare exploded over the Kerberosi lines. Trumpets sounded across the open field and Magnus watched with a smile as the three brigades of the Hilldale home guard and two divisions under Lord Carsten’s command crested a low ridge to the north of the Ansgari camp and charged on King Eadric’s suddenly weakened defenses.
Chapter 23 - Eadric
The town of Trygg had been a self-sustaining farming village before the war had swept through. A small battle had been fought in and around the village by regiments of skirmishers, ravaging the small town. Even the holdfast had not survived the pillaging. Now, it was a desolate wasteland of half-burnt buildings and foraged fields.
The room Eadric had taken for his war room was partially blackened from a fire that had been set by an overzealous soldier. It was almost as small as Eadric’s sitting room at the top of Founder’s Keep, albeit far less lavish. A simple round table surrounded by six chairs took up the majority of the space, and small bookshelves had been tucked into every other available space.
The holdfast would have to serve as Eadric’s command post until a more suitable keep or castle could be taken. After the chaos at the Battle of Kval Keep, Eadric’s generals and guards had insisted that he leave the commanding of battles to less valuable nobility and keep himself out of harm’s way.
The intense fighting in the trenches and camp of the Ansgari army had been enough leverage for Eadric to agree to stay well behind the front lines. That battle had raged for a full day and more than once Kendall had begged his king to flee the battle for safety. He had lost more troops in the battle than he had expected.
Nearly three full divisions of infantry had been devastated and would not be returned to full strength any time soon. He had called up the last four divisions of reserves from East End and was still waiting for two of them to arrive. Combined with the two and a half divisions that had survived the Battle of Kval, Eadric’s army had than enough strength to push closer to Agilard.
Reports from the west, however, had become dire. The traitors had secured the entire western bank of the Hart River including Fort Hart, the largest fortress along the river, and the largest crossing over the expansive flow. With the fortress under their control, the western nobles would be able to send their troops across the river with impunity; the fortress opposite Fort Hart was a shell of a thing, barely enough to be considered a holdfast.
With the right artillery, the traitors would be able to fire on anything on the far side of the river bank while they would be able to move troops and equipment over the bridge. A pair of fortresses guarded the main highway to the city of Halecastle but they were twenty miles away from the riverfront and the garrisons would be hesitant to leave the protection of their walls.
He had known that leaving a Chalmers in command of his army would be a mistake before he made the decision. They were a reckless family accustomed to dealing with Frantan raiders by riding them down in force. Organized armies with tens of thousands of trained soldiers were beyond the experience of the Duke of West Valley and his sons. Eadric realized now that he should have sent William to command his western armies while his father-by-law led the attack on Kerberos, but he needed William’s advice and the baron had led the eastern armies to two major victories and numerous smaller ones.
Eadric’s armies had been halted by yet another assembly of rebel divisions nearly a hundred miles away from Agilard. William Richards had issued terms to the noble in command of the army and they had, surprisingly, countered with an offer to host negotiations with him. According to the messages that he had sent back, William had taken a small council across the battlefield to negotiate with the rebels. Messengers had brought updates every hour for six hours.
Now Eadric waited in Trygg for word from his most skilled negotiator and closest friend.
A trumpet sounded at the edge of town and Eadric looked up from the book clutched in his hands. The town was small; the thunder of hooves and guards’ shouted challenges echoed off of the stone walls as the riders reached the bottom of the tower. His hand found the smooth stone in his pocket and he rubbed it slowly.
Long moments passed and then someone slammed a meaty fist into his door repeatedly; urgently.
“Enter!” Eadric ordered, a tinge of excitement in his voice.
This war may be over, he thought. Then the door swung open.
Alden Hanley pushed through Landon and Radnor Shield, his brow furrowed, his face flushed, and his eyes hot. Kendall Shield was close on his heels, with yet more members of the King’s Shield beyond the door. More of them were present than he had remembered being assigned to the Baron Hamilton.
“Where is William?” Eadric asked.
“They killed him, Eadric. They lured him into a peace summit and cut his throat!”
For a moment, Eadric failed to understand what his father-by-law had told him. He stood, mouth open, eyes wide, and eyebrows raised. It had to be a jest. No one would be so brazen as to call for a summit to negotiate a surrender and then murder the envoy sent.
“There has to be some kind of—”
“Mistake?” Alden’s voice was sharp. “There is no mistake. They sent his corpse back along with the bodies of every one of the scribes and guards that we sent with him.”
“If this is true—”
“If this is true, there will be no peace with these rebels,” Eadric shouted, interrupting his bodyguard. “I will end this rebellion by ending the life of every Kerberosi noble.”
The room grew silent. Eadric paced in front of the lone window. His hands were clenched into fists and his teeth ground together. A headache was beginning to form at his temples.
“I want the nobles that we took captive at Aetheston brought forward. When I slit Magnus Jarmann’s throat, I want him to know that he has condemned those he holds most dear.” Eadric stopped mid-stride and turned to the gathered guards and his father-by-law. “I want the ambassadors from Beldane and Steimor brought here at once. They must answer for their nation’s support of this treachery.”
“At once, my lord,” Kendall said. He signaled to the other guards and closed the door.
“I know you were close,” Alden said after several long minutes.
“We grew up together,” Eadric said. “We learned to ride together, to shoot together. We drank our first wine together, and even had our first woman together. She was one of his father’s servants.”
“We will avenge him,” Alden promised.
Eadric nodded and then slid back into his chair. He had known William for so long that he could not even begin to imagine life without his closest friend and advisor. Who would he turn to when he had a question about how to address a policy, or what to ask for in a negotiation with another nation?
Then his mind wandered to William’s family. His wife would have to be told and his oldest son would ascend to the title of Baron of Saxon; the boy was barely fifteen—his mother would be appointed regent. The power and prestige that William had worked so hard to build, respect of the nobles around him, was gone and there was no way to prevent the eventual disputes between those nobles and the new baron.
“My daughter will marry William’s son,” Eadric said suddenly. Alden’s eyes widened and his eyebrows rose. Kendall’s face was a mask of stone but Eadric saw him shift uncomfortably.
“Your majesty, the princess would best be suited for a marriage contract to an earl, or perhaps in these troubled times to an influential noble in one of the neighboring nations,” Alden suggested.
“You mean one of the nations that have sided with these rebels?” Eadric shook his head. “When we crush this rebellion into dust, I intend to grant the Agilard Duchy to my daughter as a dowry. Her husband will become the Duke of Agilard. There will be no changing my mind on this matter. I want the documents drawn up immediately.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Alden nodded. “And what of the forces at Tollivar’s Ford?”
“Destroy them, to the man. No quarter is to be taken,” Eadric ordered, his voice cold.
Chapter 24 - Hadrian
Hadrian straightened the collar of his suit and glanced at himself in the mirror one last time. He checked his pocket watch to ensure that it was accurate and slipped it into his chest pocket. It wouldn’t do to walk into the second Assembly of Western Nobles late.
He shook his head at the thought and smiled. Barely half a year before he had been worried about how King Eadric’s call for levies would affect his territory and the lands that surrounded his own barony. Now he was involved in a war which would result in freedom from the rule of a paranoid king thousands of miles away. They would have the right to decide what they did with their soldiers and their money. The Assembly of Nobles was the first step toward an equal and fair system of government.
Nations on the other side of the Vast Sea had employed similar systems to bring political power into the hands of the people. The once powerful Rhonish Republic had been based on a system in which men who owned land could vote for their fellow land holders to stand in a council that would rule the whole of the Republic. His fellow nobles would not be so quick to throw away the ancient authority that was derived from their titles, but they were moving in that direction.
Were he honest with himself, Hadrian would have admitted that he was not interested in throwing away the power that he seemed to be collecting at a pace that would have made his father proud. Grayson Clyve had impressed the importance of their noble title on his son, but he had made sure that Hadrian knew that there were other types of power and authority that could be as potent as his nobility.
Hadrian had taken his father’s advice, learned from his father’s training, and carried the same ideals forward in his own right. His sister’s marriage into the McKinley family, and a dozen major trade agreements were just the beginning of Hadrian’s plan to expand the Clyve family’s wealth and influence.
When the Western Nobles secured their independence from Ansgar and set about the task of establishing a new order, Hadrian would use the connections he had spent so long building to put himself in a position of power in the new government. The dukes would likely get the lion’s share of power, but there would be other titles and positions to be divided amongst the other nobles.
Minister of Commerce Clyve has a nice ring to it, Hadrian thought as he turned toward the door of his small chambers.
Hampton Keep had not been designed to house three dukes, four earls and nineteen barons and their attendant guards and staffs. The more respected, and powerful, nobles had been given quarters in the keep itself; the others had been given rooms in the surrounding castle. A few of the lesser nobles had been forced to take up rooms in the town that had grown around the keep.
Hadrian been against this meeting in the first place. He had argued that gathering all of the nobles so close to the front lines invited an assault by the loyalist forces hiding on the other side of the river. If the loyalists tried to force their way across the bridge at Fort Hart, they would find four divisions of infantry blocking their path, but only lesser lords in command of them. And he didn’t trust Lord Wilford, and if the heir to Edgerton could sneak more than three companies across the river, they could make the crossing with more.
Dalton had noted that they were barely a day’s travel away and telegraph lines had been rehung between Hampton and the river front, making communication a non-factor. The ratio of nobles in the Assembly, however, was delicately balanced and Dalton wanted as many of his own nobles present as possible. The gathering had already dissolved twice into bitter debates with the nobles supporting their respective liege lords and ignoring all reason. The rules set forth when the Assembly was first called declared that such arguments would be considered a draw and the issue tabled for further discussion at a later time.
Dalton had earned a reputation for avoiding such deadlocks, but he relied heavily on his nobles and their connections to the nobles around them that did not answer directly to him. Raedan’s connections with the Earl of Garroway, and Hadrian’s longstanding trade alliance with the Baron Falton, had already turned two debates in Dalton’s favor.
“My lord, the Assembly is already gathering,” Auberon Strait announced from outside the half-open door.
“Yes, I would imagine they are,” Hadrian said after a glance at his pocket watch. The Assembly had been called for noon. Already it was quarter to and many of the lesser nobles wanted to make their presence known by finding their places early.
Hadrian spared one more look in the mirror and stepped through the door. Auberon stood outside in an expensive-looking suit with four guards gathered around him. Auberon had insisted that the guards wear their pressed white dress uniforms; they looked very uncomfortable.
The hallways were crowded with the other nobles, their guards, pages, and squires. Each nodded a greeting as they passed, heading toward the central staircase and the Grand Hall below. Raedan stood at the bottom of the massive staircase, and Hadrian lifted a hand in greeting.
Raedan wore a pressed uniform to match his guards;
the buttons gleamed in the sunlight that streamed from windows high above and the onyx around his neck reflected black light outward. He had the worried look that had become his most common expression and even from the top of the stairs, Hadrian could see him twisting his onyx ring around his finger.
Damon Kor was with him. His flowing silver hair was tied into a long ponytail and his eyes were cast toward the floor. The advisor that had been with his family for generations had started to look older and older everyday; he leaned heavily on his staff. Not for the first time, Hadrian wondered just how old Damon was.
Behind Damon and Raedan, Kent Clyve led the small contingent of Raedan’s guards. They too wore their pressed uniforms, but where Hadrian’s guards wore white with red accents, Raedan’s guards wore black with white highlights. Kent was the only one of the guards who was not focused on their task. He met Hadrian’s eyes and the look in his youngest brother’s eyes told Hadrian that something was terribly wrong.
He hurried down the last few steps and met his brothers at the foot of the stairwell.
“What’s happened?” Hadrian asked.
“Hadrian, it’s Lord Tullens,” Raedan said somberly. “He’s passed. The telegraph just came in.”
“I see,” Hadrian said. Jon Tullens had become a second father to Hadrian when his own father had passed away; the last Baron of South Griffin Cliffs had always provided sound council to his son-by-law. “Well, there’s nothing to be done about it for now. I’ll have to talk with Dalton and request that I be allowed to return to the Overlook to see to Alicia and the children.”
His children had spent many of the last few summers at Falwich Castle and the loss of their last remaining grandparent would hit them the hardest.
There would also be the armies of servants, advisors and officers to review, and the mountains of paperwork involved in converting all of Jon’s lands and possessions to Hadrian’s ownership. The task was not one that Hadrian relished, but it would be necessary to minimize the disruption suffered by the territory.
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