by Jo Walton
“More Jarnsmen approaching.”
“Up the hill?” Urdo leapt to his feet.
“No, my lord. Along the river. In boats. Lots of them. Flying the walrus flag.” The sentry was very young. He was trembling.
“Only Ohtar coming. Thank you.” Urdo sounded pleased if anything. I could see the fidchel board, our kingpiece trapped on Foreth between their encircling fighters.
“Ohtar?” echoed Galba as the sentry left.
“We knew he had the ships,” Urdo said. “It makes no difference, or rather, it makes it better for us. Ohtar is very bold and does not like to wait about. Now I think they will make a stand tomorrow. Go and do what I have told you. Everyone get as much rest as you can. Share out the grain to the horses tonight with the last of the water. Sulien, stay here.” The others rose and left us.
I looked at him. He seemed cheerful and confident. I remembered how I had felt at Caer Lind when I was sure we were going to die and wondered if that was how he was feeling now. I just felt tired and dusty and thirsty. But he looked at me and grinned, and I felt my spirits rising.
“Cheer up,” he said. “Now water. No matter what cost we have to pay in time to come, what do you know about the old gods and water?”
“I know what Dalitus wrote,” I said.
“What?” Urdo leaned forward eagerly.
“‘Never accuse a superior officer of bluffing.’” Urdo stared at me for a moment, then threw back his head and roared with laughter. When he had his breath again he reached out and hugged me. I raised my eyebrows.
“It’s good to laugh,” he said, stepping back. “But will you help me?”
“Of course, my lord,” I said.
22
There rise rills in the peat,
waterfalls wear away limestone,
over black-flaking slate slide streams heady as wine
a cool sharp joy to the tongue.
Pools stand under tall trees,
and in the cupped rock, deep lakes.
Reed beds rise from the fen,
green stalks, brown heads, wet-rooted.
Otters splash in cool brown bogs,
dawn dew shimmers on spider silk,
and the rain falls fresh from grey clouds.
The slow rivers sweep the plains
drawing sweet water down to salt sea.
Water flows and returns,
a holy thing is clear water rising up
from Earth’s depths, falling from high sky,
a boon to the thirsty, Coventina’s gift.
The leaf turns slowly on the still pool.
—Tanagan charm for purifying water
The sun had set and the moon was rising, silvering the mist that filled the valleys. Around the hill the Jarnish campfires made a sullen glow. We had no fires. In the distance the peaks of the Breghedan hills were dark distinctive shapes against the starry sky. The camp seemed quiet and restrained as we walked through it. Gwair Aderyn was singing softly. I recognized one of ap Erbin’s brother’s new songs. We walked away from everyone, up onto the highest point of the hill, where the table stone was. Nobody had camped near it. It made people uneasy. I longed for Garah. Garah had a particular love for the Mother, Breda, she called her, Coventina. I thought of how the water had shot up at Caer Lind when I used Garah’s charm. I remembered Garah’s mother giving me a cup of milk and honey in Coventina’s name.
As we walked I seemed to see shapes moving with us, old kings from forgotten times, priestesses carrying curved knives, a small child running through bracken, steely-eyed sentries guarding walls that were long crumbled. If I looked closely at these shapes they vanished, only to reappear again in the corner of my eye when I looked away. As we came up to the stone I saw Osvran standing there, looking hopeful, talking to a shadow of myself whose face was horribly twisted.
Urdo said nothing and did not slow his walking, so I did not know if he had seen anything. He was the king. Perhaps he saw them all the time. When we came to the rock he stopped, and the shadows faded.
“This is the place and I am here,” he said, conversationally. I pulled back my sleeves and reached out my arms, palms downward. I sang aloud Garah’s hymn to water that had been in my head since we came away from the camp.
There was no sudden change. I did not even notice for a moment that the change had come. Urdo nudged me. The hilltop was no longer the top of the hill. There was another, higher, saddle to the north. A rocky path led up between high banks towards it. It looked as if it had always been there and we had not noticed. Urdo went toward it. I followed him, picking my way as best I could over the stones and the dust. Some of the stone was the stuff of the hill and some was loose shale under my boots. It sloped up steeply, it would be too steep to ride easily but not too steep to lead horses. The moon was shining down on us, lighting our way and giving all the shadows very sharp black edges. Bracken grew on the sheer upward sides of the path. I did not look back. The slope grew steeper, and we came over a lip to find a great leaf-shaped pool stretching before us, filling a bowl in the hills. What hills? I looked up and around and saw that the hills of Bregheda were no longer in the distance but around us; we were among them.
I smelled her before I saw her. The pool was full of dark weed, twisting and twining, and I thought some of it must be rotting. The smell was like overripe plants, like the heart of deep mixed forest, a deeply fecund smell. Even when I saw her I thought for a moment she was a seal lying on the rock. Urdo knew at once. He waded straight out into the water towards her. I followed more carefully. The water was shallow, it did not come above my knees. As we came closer she sat up, and I saw that the weed was her hair. I think all the pool was part of her. Maybe the hills as well. She laughed, and the sound was very merry and very amused, and it echoed around the bowl of hills like thunder.
“So, my husband, now thou seek me,” she said to Urdo, speaking in Tanagan. Her eyes were very big and very dark. Her skin was blacker than I have ever seen on a human person. Her breasts looked like the breasts of a woman who has borne children. She was very beautiful and yet wild and savage, and I feared her.
“I have come,” said Urdo. His voice sounded joyful and as wild as hers. “I am king of Tir Tanagiri, and I have come by right.”
“Yes, beloved, but what brings thee? Dost thou seek a son to follow?” Her voice left no doubt that she was making the offer woman to man, and not just offering a goddess’s blessing to his wife’s womb. The lake rippled a little, spreading out from her rock, and I saw Urdo sway a little as it passed him. I felt my cheeks heating and was glad of the darkness. She may have seen anyway, for she laughed again.
“That is not why I have come,” Urdo said, cleverly sidestepping the possibility of refusal. “I seek water for the horses.”
“No small thing thou’rt asking, dearest,” she said. Urdo bowed his head.
“I know,” he said. “And it is no small thing for me to come and ask. I have never asked before. Until now, I have done it all myself.”
“Though thou wed me by the oak tree, all this time thou asked for nothing. When thou’rt dead then I will hold thee, for I know thou truly love me?” Her voice was a little plaintive on this last, but I did not know what she was asking.
“My land, or my people, both, or either. I don’t know if there is a difference. I am doing my best, Lady,” he said.
“Thou wilt not blame me for thy sister?” Urdo drew in a sharp breath, and shook his head. I had not known Morwen had tricked so many gods.
“Do not speak of it. Her son will never come to my crown.” No, I thought, Angas had already proved his faith there. I had forgotten about young Morthu.
“Her great-grandson will, I’m thinking, if the path lies clear before thee.”
“That’s too far ahead for me tonight, Lady. I know you think far ahead, but the Jarnsmen will have what crown there is if I do not water the horses tonight.” She laughed again, and it sounded more like thunder than ever. Her belly rippled, and the poo
l rocked, splashing around my legs. She seemed to take notice of me for the first time. She smiled, but she looked sad.
“I was with you, by the oak tree,” she said to me. “And the child was worth the bearing.” I raised my chin. “Ah, stern soldier, dare to love him,” she said, very sad now. I could find nothing to say. I didn’t know whether I was in time for my love to mean anything to Darien. She looked away, back towards Urdo.
“Ah, thou always knew I’d let thee, small enough a thing to give thee, there’s so little we can alter, though we long to, though we love you. Take my water with my blessing. Fetch the horses, let them drink deep, they will never water better, gifts I give beyond thy knowledge, Rhighanna herself will bless me.” Now Urdo laughed.
“My great thanks, Lady.”
“One more thing that I can give thee, given long into my keeping.” She put her hand beneath the water and drew out a sword. The water sparkled as it ran off in the moonlight. It was so silver as to be almost blue. “Crown and stone thou hast already,” she said. “Bear this at thy side in battle. Time and past it saw the sunlight. Come and take it, let me kiss thee.” The water rippled again.
Urdo turned to me, and there was a strangeness in his voice. “Sulien, go and get the horses. Bring them up thirty or so at a time. Get some people to help bring them up. We’ll be all night in any case. I will stay here.”
I waded back across the lake and down the path, knowing better than to look back.
I feared to step off the path in case it vanished, leaving Urdo far away. I had no choice when I reached the end of it by the table. It stayed while I woke Glyn and Masarn and Rigol. Glyn quickly got people organizing the horses while Rigol and I led the first group up. It was strange, walking along in the darkness with horses, waiting while they drank and leading them back. I saw no sign of Urdo or the Lady by the lake until we had finished. I did not take every group up, but I was there with the last group, my pennon’s horses. When they had finished drinking, Urdo was there, on the shore, the sword strapped to his side. Neither of us said anything. He took Prancer’s head and started back down the path.
“It’s almost morning, by the stars,” I said, when we came back to the stone. It had seemed a long night. We learned later from Marchel and the Jarnsmen that it had been three days for the world beyond that hilltop. “Glyn’s given the grain to the horses. And he got me to take buckets down for the people to have water. I hope that’s all right. She did say we could take the water with her blessing.”
“She did,” said Urdo, and I could tell he was smiling. “We will all eat and drink, and when the morning comes we will be ready.”
It was all a little dreamlike. It might have been the night without sleep. Almost all the other armigers were well rested. They looked fresh and cheerful. We formed up in alae and pennons to eat what the cooks brought us in the first light, hot oats with some dried fruit, what was left from feeding the horses. It steamed a little in the dawn air and tasted very good.
I had tightened Glimmer’s girth before it was really light enough to see, doing it by feel. Urdo was moving among us as we ate and got ready, having a quiet word with almost everyone, raising their spirits and making sure they understood. He needed to know that every praefecto and pennon commander knew their part and was in the right place. He embraced each as he left them, and many of the ordinary armigers, too. I ate standing up, leaning against Glimmer’s solid silvery flank. I picked out the pieces of dried apple and gave them to him when I’d finished all the rest. I was just wiping his enthusiastic slobber off my hands when Urdo came up to me, carrying his great banner. It was furled around the pole. It was an heirloom of his house, a huge dark purple banner with no device. Nobody knew how old it was, nor when it had been brought from Vinca. Some said it had been carried by the Emperor Adren when he stormed Dun Idyn four hundred years before. Certainly Emrys had raised it as a sign of his imperial claims. It looked almost black in the dawnlight.
“Will you ride beside me and carry my banner?” Urdo asked. I could hardly speak. I straightened up, stammered some thanks, and took it to feel the weight. The pole was very solid, but the banner itself was as light as our ala banners, for all that it was so much larger. It was made of silk, silk that must travel a year overland through strange lands before it comes to the border of Vincan lands at Caer Custenn at the far edge of Lossia. I fitted the base of it into the cup by my stirrup. It was the first time I had used the banner cup on this saddle except in training. I gave a messenger my shield and spear to take back to the packhorses. I wouldn’t be able to use them with this.
Urdo gestured the other praefectos closer. Galba looked enviously at the banner. “Galba, you and ap Meneth will take Sweyn and the right. Luth, you and Cadraith take the left, facing Ohtar. Gwair and my ala will take the center and face Ayl. The difficult part is getting through the bracken. I’ve told everyone to make it look slower than it is. They will not be expecting us to be as fresh as we are. We still have some benefit from the mist, too. Watch for the marked paths through the obstacles and the instant we are through form up into lines facing forward as fast as we can. All just as we’ve practiced a thousand times, except for the lanes. Be ready to charge as soon as you see my banner.”
“You’ve got Marchel’s three pennons with you, Sulien?” Galba asked.
I shook my head. “They’re with Gwair. I have five of my pennons out ahead and my pennon behind the king in case we stop.” My pennon had not been very pleased to hear this, they were used to leading the charge.
“We will do our best not to stop,” said Urdo. “They won’t have faced six alae before, and we know two alae do a lot more than one.”
“What about Marchel?” Gwair asked.
“She may see and come out and join us. I’m not counting on it. She’s not had many choices down there,” said Urdo.
“If Ohtar changes into a bear what do I do?” Luth asked.
“Try to stop your horse bolting,” Urdo said, and grinned.
I laughed at Luth’s expression. “Unless the whole army of Bereich turn: into bears you don’t really need to worry,” I said. The light was growing. It was almost time, the mist would lift soon. Urdo embraced us all and sent the others off to take their places. The Jarns were moving about, but I couldn’t quite make out what they were doing. They seemed to be in a desultory line of battle, though it was tighter on the left, where Ohtar was. I made sure all my decurios knew what we were doing. One would have thought from ap Erbin’s face that he was a little boy who had been given a real sword for Midsummer Day. I suppose I should have given him more chances to lead.
I swung up onto Glimmer’s back. Urdo and Prancer were beside me. There was music in my head, a song in a language I do not know. It had a strong insistent beat, and it carried me along with it. There are many songs about that charge at Foreth, but that is not one of them. I believe the Lady sent it to carry me forward. When I think of that day now I still hear that music.
The grooms had covered over the pits. They said it was easy. As we waited I hoped they had done it thoroughly, right down to the bottom of the hill. Even a few horses down would slow us, probably disastrously. We had to hit Sweyn fast, before he realized that we were not as weak as he hoped and caught us standing. Fifteen thousand screaming Jarns was nothing we wanted to fight from a standing start.
Glimmer was ready, more than ready. I patted him, glad of his eagerness, but I missed Apple. Apple really loved a fight.
Now the Jarnsmen were forming up into a line of battle, about three hundred yards from the base of the hill. The three kings were there, each surrounded by their huscarls, their best men, and farther out their fyrdsmen. They were three distinct hosts. It was said later that there were indeed fifteen thousand altogether, or even more. At the time it just seemed that there were a lot of them; the ground was dark with them.
We filtered down through the bracken and through the clear marked lanes the grooms and Gwair’s men had made. Then came the ready signals
, first the raised banners from each pennon, then the trumpet calls from the alae trumpeters as each was ready. It was a long minute between Luth’s first blast of readiness and Galba’s coming sixth and last. It was fully light now, light enough to see the whole line of armed and armored armigers, six alae, more than a thousand horse, spread out over more than a mile in a disciplined line across the hillside.
I could hear frantic drum signals from the Jarns below as we got ready. They must have been surprised when we appeared like that in the light, through the obstacles, ready. I couldn’t see them clearly past the two lines in front of me, but it looked as if they were tightening up and getting ready.
Then Urdo drew his sword and raised it high. The upswung blade caught the light of the sun as it rose out of the clouds and flashed out brilliant blue-white. I unfurled the banner. It was bigger than a blanket. I don’t know why the Vincans needed them that size, but it certainly was impressive. Then, as the front line was already moving, Grugin blew the general charge signal, the great unmistakable trumpet blast, the five notes of “I’m coming to get you” that means everyone should charge forward at top speed. The front two ranks were moving off quickly, and it was time for us to move. I drew my sword as we took the first walking steps before we began to trot. It looked dark and battered in comparison to Urdo’s shining blade.
Then we were moving, fast. The music swelled in my head, weaving in the charge call and the other signals. We were very close together. I could smell the charge, that particular mixture of human sweat and excited horse sweat. It was strange to see each pennon’s rally banners and charge banners all going forward together as we moved, the gold and the white streaming back in the dawn wind. The purple banner caught the wind and blew back behind me, the only dark color among all the gold and white. It was like Caer Lind except that this time there were enough of us.
