The King's Peace

by Jo Walton

  “We can hold it for a few days. Do you know a well blessing? If we had a clean well we could hold it longer.” Garah knew a well blessing. But I’d sent her off into who knew what danger. I’d heard her give it. She would be furious with me for letting Apple die.

  “I can try one.”

  “We need to talk to Glyn about supply. But I think we can hold out until Borthas gets here.”

  “Borthas is dead.” Ap Erbin gaped at me. “Get Galba. Get Glyn. Get Masarn, I put him in charge of the other pennon I brought in. Get someone else fit to be a decurio who can lead First.” Osvran’s pennon. “We need to have a council and decide what to do. Get—” I remembered with a start and a warm glow of strong relief that Galba would be in charge. I gave sincere thanks to all the gods of war. He was highest-ranking survivor, and Urdo had promised him command of an ala. He was just getting it sooner than he expected. He could make the decisions, which was good, as my head felt as if it had been stuffed with wool. It wouldn’t be up to me to decide what to do next. I didn’t want to be a praefecto after all. I wanted to get very drunk and sleep for a week and after that do something simple and boring like days and days of lance-drilling exercises where the worst of my worries was getting Apple to change feet at the right time. Except that Apple was dead. I rubbed my eyes with my raw hands. My gauntlets had vanished somewhere.

  “What shall I get, and where shall I get them to?” ap Erbin asked. He had been waiting while I stood with my mouth open.

  “The praetorium, I think. I can’t remember what else I was going to say. Galba can decide what we’re going to say to Sweyn. Oh, and tell Galba he’s in charge, will you? Don’t get someone for First Pennon. Galba can do that.”

  Galba blinked at me when he saw me in the praetorium. “Are you hurt, Sulien?”

  “A few scratches I think. I haven’t looked yet. It’s mostly Apple’s blood, and Jarnish blood. Yes, one of these years I’ll have time to wash all off it off. There are things you need to know.”

  I waited until everyone was there, then told them everything Morwen had said and done. Ap Erbin confirmed the way she had died. I told them the titles Sweyn claimed and the surrender terms he’d offered before the battle.

  “Let us assume,” said Galba, “firstly, that Urdo will not fall into the trap. If he comes, he will come with sufficient force. He may not come. He may assume we’re all dead.”

  “If ap Gavan reaches him he will know more than they think,” Masarn pointed out. “Sulien sent her via Caer Avroc. It’ll take her six or seven days to get to Urdo.”

  “The immediate problem is what to say to Sweyn now. We have his family, he has us trapped,” said Galba.

  “Is he an honorable man?” asked ap Erbin.

  “He made an alliance with Morwen, and according to her, he needed her,” I said. “On the other hand the people of his household I fought today did nothing dishonorable. I think he might not openly break a public agreement before his people.”

  “So do we ask him to let us go in return for his family?” asked Glyn. “We’ve supplies for about ten days.”

  “Six days to Caer Tanaga, six days back here,” muttered ap Erbin.

  “We can hold out twenty days if we must, but it will be hard going,” said Glyn.

  “He won’t let us go, that will spoil his trap if we get to Urdo and tell him,” said Galba. “I think we ask him for supplies in return for keeping his family safe. They need to eat, too, after all. And we tell him that the witch is dead, and so we serve all traitors.” We all raised our chins. “Do we have a herald?”

  Glyn started to put forward suitable names of people who were alive, on their feet, and spoke the Jarnish language. It wasn’t a long list at all. I stopped listening. It was still a question of when we were going to die. I couldn’t even see a way of avoiding taking the kingdom down with us. The discussion swirled about me like a fog as they thought out loud. I tried to concentrate, but I could feel my eyes closing.

  “We need a miracle,” said Galba, summing up. “We’ll keep going until one happens.” He then assigned us a sector of the city each, and work that needed doing. “But get your wounds seen to and sleep first, Sulien,” he said.

  I agreed, but as soon as he left the room Glyn dragged me off to bless the poisoned well.

  “I know it’s raining, but the sooner we have a good water source the better,” he said.

  I remembered the words. I opened my heart to the Mother and addressed her as Garah did, as Coventina, the leaf that floats on the forest pool, Lady of Good Waters. There was a loud gurgling sound and the well shot up high, soaking the courtyard, then settled back. Glyn sent down a bucket.

  “It’s sweet,” he said, tasting it cautiously. I felt curiously more cheerful myself.

  “Good that someone’s on our side,” I said.

  “And good that some people are still teaching their children the old ways,” he said. “That’s a woman’s blessing. I never learned it.”

  “I had it from Garah. She uses it to bless muddy ditches when we need water, and it always works. She’s a marvel. I do hope she makes it through.”

  Glyn raised his chin soberly. Though we didn’t say anything, we were counting days and food in our head. We had heard the good news that Sweyn had agreed not to attack that day if he could see his wife alive, which was done.

  I sat down in the praetorium and went to sleep, knowing Galba would not relax the guard just because we had a truce. Visions of the battle spun in my head, but I kept on counting days and food. To get that twenty days, Glyn must have been counting on eating the horses. We needed a miracle.

  The way people tell it now, they say that the miracle was there when we woke the next morning, men sprung from the ground as corn from seed. The timing was not quite as good as that. It was three more difficult days before we saw that incredible army. They passed uncomfortably. Sweyn attacked, feinted, made brief truces, tried to take the city by the secret way, pushed hard at the gate and once almost succeeded in scaling the walls. On the fourth day of the siege Galba came and woke me at dawn.

  “Come and see,” he said. I came, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I had slept in my leather armor. I wanted hot water and hot food. On the plain before Sweyn’s army stood a host of a size I had never imagined. In the center flew the banners of the ala of Caer Gloran, along with Angas’s own banner, the thorn of Demedia, the single great purple silk royal banner of the High King of Tir Tanagiri, the red-and-green kingdom banner and, just catching the light, Urdo’s own personal banner, the gold running horse on white and green. So many times I had charged beneath that banner. I felt tears prick in my eyes to see it again. He had come. This sight would have gladdened my heart, but far stranger was what stood to left and right of the ala.

  It seemed to all the world an army raised from the warriors of Tir Tanagiri who had been here before the Vincans came. I had no idea how Urdo had raised the dead to come and rescue us, but there they were in great numbers, long beards, blue-painted faces, and arms with swirling black-and-white battle designs. They had little round shields with more such designs on. They had only one banner, though many of them flew it, a blue background with a black naked man. I had never seen it before. They were armed with short stabbing spears, and some of them even had swords. The wonderful thing about them was that there were so many of them they covered the whole area where we had rallied and fought three days before. In the bare space between the two armies Raul was meeting the envoys of King Sweyn.

  Nobody fought at all that day. It was noon before they had an agreement anyone bothered to tell us about. I would have stayed on the wall all that time if Glyn hadn’t dragged me off to eat. We had no idea what anyone was saying. Galba brought Sweyn’s wife and daughter onto the walls so that they could both witness and be seen to be alive. He also had them bring the boy. I did not know his name then, but I will give it here—Morthu ap Talorgen, of Angas. Sweyn’s wife was a cheerful brave woman called Gerda, who did much to keep the priso
ners content and felt great faith in Sweyn. I liked her, even though I suspected her of indicating more to Sweyn than the fact of her health and presence. She looked exactly like a Jarnish woman should with long, plaited, straw-colored hair and a broad bosom. This was because she was nursing the baby, though she never did it where anyone could see, being very body-shy.

  When the agreement was made, two heralds rode up to us. One was Angas, and the other was one of the same men Sweyn had used for his embassy to us before. They explained that we were to open the gates and ride out, then all of us were to leave Tevin to Sweyn. The prisoners were to be left inside, unharmed. The herald was to enter the fortress and see that everything was done according to form.

  “Where is my mother?” asked Angas.

  “Dead by the sword, the day we retook the fortress,” said Galba, smoothly. It is hard to tell from above when a man is wearing a helmet, but it seemed to me that Angas looked relieved.

  “Then bring my brother out to me when you come,” he said.

  We made a brave show as we rode out, but the effect was spoiled by the shortage of horses. Morthu had to be tied to a horse behind Glyn, as he refused to go willingly. Most of us were wounded, and none of us were very clean.

  Galba led the way with half a pennon in as good shape as he could muster. Then followed the wounded and those without horses. We had burned those of our dead who fell in the fortress. The rest of us brought up the rear in marching pennon order. We could have fought if we needed to, and it was good to let the Jarns know it. They drew aside for us as we passed in deep uneasy silence. We could hear every rustle and every footfall of our passing. It made me edgy. I looked straight ahead of me and ignored them as much as I could as I led my pennon through them.

  As we came up to the ala of Caer Gloran they parted for us and raised a great cheer, which was echoed by the blue foot warriors on either side. I wept to hear it, and Beauty began to pick up his feet high, as he always did when he heard cheering. I suppose Morwen must have taught him.

  Urdo came forward and embraced Galba, bringing up spare horses for us all. Then he embraced me, before the other decurios. “Sweyn tells me you are a female demon out of his legends,” he said to me. “Well done, Sulien ap Gwien, it was all very well done.”

  “How did you get here so fast?” I asked. “And how did you raise the ghosts?” Urdo smiled.

  “Morwen wrote to her son Gwyn of Angas to tell him his father was dead and what her plans were, at least as far as telling him to be ready to attack me. The moment he had the letter he raised the ala of Caer Gloran and rode to Caer Tanaga to let know me. Such loyalty delights me, and has saved us all.” We were standing in a crowd, and Angas was near enough to hear. He blushed. “It happened that I had an Isarnagan ambassador there that day, urging an alliance on me as some wars of theirs had recently ended.” Urdo smiled. “We had to move very fast, but I got them to bring troops up the coast by ship, while we rode up. I sent to Gwair to bring the ala of Caer Thanbard to Caer Tanaga in case of trouble there. We did it all in eight days from when Angas reached me.” The cheering broke out again.

  “It’s wonderful,” I said.

  “Now we ride to Tinala,” he said. “The great war is beginning, and there is a great chance for peace on the other side of it.”

  “And the Isarnagans?” ap Erbin asked, as Urdo embraced him in his turn.

  “It was an emergency,” said Urdo, smiling. “I got married.”

  16

  Those who went to Caer Lind were battle-ready

  a power of horses, blue armor, shields,

  lances held high, shining spear blades,

  of mail there was no shortage, nor any weapon.

  So long to grieve, those left behind them,

  the great deeds done to be remembered

  Those who went to Caer Lind, shouting for battle,

  green mead was their drink, bitter the aftertaste,

  a hundred warriors, fell-armed, fallen

  and after exultation, there was silence.

  —Aneirin ap Erbin, “Caer Lind”

  When I woke, Garah was there, cleaning my face with a warm cloth, and muttering under her breath.

  “You could have some consideration for other people. Honestly, Sulien! You let it dry on like this and how am I ever going to get it off again?”

  “Hello,” I croaked. For a moment I didn’t know where I was. I was lying on straw in a tent, not my tent. By the light it was afternoon. The tent was empty except for my armor, piled on a stool, and a heavy ironbound chest. Then I remembered. Apple dead. Osvran dead. Geiran, and Morwen, and Indeg, and Bran …—I felt sick briefly, so many gone. But Garah and I were alive, and here. I took a steadying breath. “When did you get back? Where are we?”

  “We’re outside Caer Avroc, and I came up with King Cinon and ap Meneth and the ala of Caer Rangor this morning.” She dipped the rag and scrubbed at my face. It stung a little.

  “Did you get all the way to Caer Rangor?”

  “Oh yes. I found the remains of Borthas’s army before I got back here. It was easy to spot by the crows. I could see he wasn’t going to be coming to help you. I went forward slowly and almost ran into the other Jarnish army, the one from Bereich besieging Caer Avroc. So I started making for Caer Tanaga like you said, except that I thought any help I could get would be too late, so I went by way of Caer Rangor.” She paused to rub hard at my cheek. It hurt. “I think you really do have a scrape here, it’s not just dried-on blood.”

  “I don’t remember hurting it.”

  Garah laughed. “You never do. You’re not really hurt. Some spectacular bruises, though.” One of them was under her hand. I winced. “Raul and a doctor had a look at you when you didn’t want to wake up and they said it was nothing serious. There were so many wounded who were serious that you haven’t really been cleaned up. I think some of them were too afraid of you. You do look a sight. What have you done to your hair? And I hope you’re going to help me sand that armor because nothing else will ever get it clean. Glyn wouldn’t let me touch it, he said you seemed to want it like that, but that’s ridiculous.”

  “Cut my hair off with my sword,” I muttered, then I realized how good it was to be alive and have her scolding me. I lay there a moment without speaking while a tear of relief ran down my face. “Of course I’ll help you clean the armor,” I said, my voice catching in my throat. “As soon as I get up. Have I slept all through the day? I suppose I was awfully tired.”

  “I’m not surprised. And you’ve slept for nearly two days. You’ve woken up enough to stagger to the latrine a few times, so they knew you weren’t really dazed. They moved you on the wagons with the wounded because you wouldn’t wake up enough to talk coherently, Glyn said.” I didn’t remember at all.

  I sat up. I felt stiff and awkward, as if I had had a fever that was just leaving me. My bruises and scrapes screamed in protest as I moved, and my knees ached. “Where are the latrines anyway?”

  “We’re in camp. You’ve already proved you can find them in your sleep.” I giggled, and proved her right. I came back in after a few minutes, yawning.

  “I’m hungry. Do you think there’ll be anything to eat? What’s happening? Everyone was rushing about. Where’s Fourth Pennon?” I had only vaguely recognized faces.

  “Let me finish cleaning your face first. Nearly done, and you shouldn’t really eat with it like that. Sit down again.” I sat down gingerly on the edge of the straw. “There’s only the one scrape on it, I think. All the rest of this blood is just dried on and then forgotten about. That’s the last time I ever go off and leave you to fight a battle.” She picked up the cloth again.

  “No it isn’t,” I said. “You’re not my servant, Garah, you’re a member of the ala. A valuable member of the ala. You did exactly what you should have done, you followed orders and went for help. You might have saved all our lives. Thank you.”

  “I don’t quite see why everyone’s making so much fuss about it.” She sh
ifted her shoulders uncomfortably. “I didn’t do anything. By the time I persuaded King Cinon and ap Meneth to move the messenger from Urdo had almost reached Caer Rangor. He met us less than a day up the road. Just as well, really, or we’d have gone to Caer Lind.”

  She said this so calmly it took me a moment to really take it in. “You managed to persuade them to bring the whole ala? That’s who we’re camped with now?”

  “It was an emergency.”

  “It was indeed. I never thought of that. It would have worked, too.” I was counting days in my head. If she had got here this morning and I had slept a night and a day she would have brought them to Caer Lind by last night. They would have been in time. That would have been before we had to start eating the horses. Caer Rangor had never crossed my mind once as a source of help. I’d forgotten it existed. “Why Garah! Garah—if you were in my line of command, I’d promote you.”

  “Too late. I have done it already.” The doorway darkened as Urdo came in. He was wearing full riding armor, and his helmet was on his arm. “She belongs to Derwen and to your family no more. Garah ap Gavan is sworn to me as armiger in her own right. She may not have the weight to wield a lance in the line, but she has already given me such service as I will never forget.” Garah blushed, and I stood up and hugged her.

  “It was just lucky that ap Cathvan was there and knew me,” she muttered. Urdo was beaming. He looked at her as if she were a new trained horse who had just done an exercise perfectly.

  “At last I have people around me who will do what is necessary,” he said, stressing the last four words. “Between Angas and you two what could have been the defeat of all my hopes has become the beginning of the long road to victory.” I had never seen him look so happy.

  “So what next?” I asked.

  “I heard word you were awake, so I came to ask if you are well enough to ride? The army of Bereich is drawn up outside Caer Avroc. Flavien ap Borthas is holding out inside. Angas’s ala is getting ready, and ap Meneth’s ala is getting ready, and the allied Isarnagan foot soldiers are getting ready, and I have come to ask you if you are well enough to ride as signifer for my ala.”