The Major slid back his chair. While not a tall man, his solid build gave the impression of his being quite powerful. A full shock of white hair topped his head. It had been blond before Villerupt. A handsome man, he shared his sister’s noble features, save that his nose clearly had been broken on at least one occasion, and Hettie Frost’s had not. Aside from that, and his missing right hand, no other mark of misfortune made itself apparent.
“Splendid. I’ve heard so much about the model.” He set his sherry glass down and grasped the knife blade protruding from his wooden prosthesis. He twisted it, then pulled, and the knife came free. He slipped it into a boot sheath, then produced a small hook and locked it into the hole. He nestled the sherry glass into the metal curl replacing his right hand.
Dr. Frost, his son Caleb, Count von Metternin, and Owen Strake all made their apologies to the women and headed for the Prince’s office. Owen became noticeably formal, but he had been that way all night. He had been seated next to Bethany Frost, a pairing which had previously brought him some pleasure,
but this evening it appeared to be a source of discomfort.
Discomfort the Prince had not seen reflected on Miss Frost’s face.
Vlad led them straight to the model. The militia officer circled it. Fairlee had adopted a light green coat with buff facings and cuffs. Forest wore it well. Buff breeches and waistcoat matched, and he wore tall cavalry boots.
He took a good look, then sipped sherry. “And we have no idea how many troops will be opposing us?”
Vlad shook his head. “I am afraid not.”
Caleb snorted. “Add one for that idiot, Rivendell.”
The men chuckled, but Forest waggled a finger at his nephew. “Let that be the last time I hear that out of you, Caleb, or any of your boys, if you expect to be chosen to join my men. Ridicule erodes morale and discipline faster than the sun melts ice. As any veteran will tell you, when the cannons roar and guns thunder, you don’t fight for country or leader. You fight for your friends in the ranks. If they don’t understand the importance of standing with you, they won’t, and you’ll all die.”
“Yes, sir.”
The Prince pointed to the model. “Rivendell has one regiment of foot, one of horse, twelve guns, probably light. He couldn’t recall the size.”
“The man is an idiot, isn’t he?”
Caleb laughed.
Forest raised an eyebrow. “Remember, when I say it, it is a judgment based on experience. I met him on the Continent a couple of times. He was insulting, short-sighted, and had an inflated sense of his own position in history. How is it he got this command?”
Vlad shrugged. “Correspondents of mine have hinted at a political fight in Parliament. The Foreign Ministry wishes to finish Tharyngia on the Continent and sees du Malphias as a distraction. Last year’s campaign did not go well, and Rivendell was part of the reason why. Getting him away from Tharyngia is a way to give someone a chance at victory.
“The Home Office wants to protect Mystria to protect the Norillian economy. They point out that conquering New Tharyngia will destroy the Tharyngian economy and, ultimately, boost ours. Rivendell’s enthusiasm for this venture made him easy to promote. Unfortunately, they underfunded and undermanned his expedition based on his manpower request. This leaves them sufficient resources to campaign on the Continent this year or next, regardless of what Rivendell does.”
Forest turned to Owen. “I understand, Captain, that du Malphias indicated he wished to form his own nation?”
“Yes, sir. His fortress controls access to the west. Being south of New Tharyngia, it has better growing seasons. The rivers and lakes let it get furs and other trade goods out.” Owen sighed heavily. “If he can get settlers in, he could achieve his dream.”
“This was all in the report you sent to Launston, Highness?”
“Every word.” The Prince finished his sherry in a gulp. “And every one was dismissed as fantasy.”
“Amazing.” Major Forest turned back to the model. “There is, of course, only one way to take this fortress. Surely you all see it.”
Count von Metternin set his sherry glass in the middle of the ruined farmhouse. “It is not to begin the assault from here?”
“No.” Forest tapped the cliffs with his hook. “Two companies of men, hand-picked men, approach the cliffs under cover of darkness. They scale up, use grapnels to get over the wall, then take the upper fortress. From there they command the interior and can use Ryngian cannons to knock out the other artillery batteries along the north wall. The rest of the troops stage here, to the north, and concentrate on this point nearest the cliff fort. Once in, du Malphias’ stone wall works for them. They eliminate the central fortress and clean out the other forts.”
“Are you certain, sir?” Owen frowned. “Those cliffs are quite sheer.”
“I appreciate your perspective, Captain, but I’ll differ with you. While I cannot climb with my metal hand, I have plenty of men who climb like squirrels. Here in the Northlands are dozens like them.”
Caleb nodded. “The Bone brothers, Nathaniel, Twilight People, could all get right up there.”
“We would arm them with two guns. They would have their rifles for accurate shooting, and shotguns for closer work. From what you have said, Highness, iron pellets, bits of nails, and the like would be effective against the pasmortes.”
Vlad nodded. “Likely against other troops, too.”
Owen drew closer to the model. “Shotguns would work well for cleaning out the warrens.”
Forest nodded. For the first time since Vlad had begun work on the model, he felt hopeful. He had no doubt that taking the fortress would be a fierce and bloody affair, but prior to Major Forest’s suggestion, the only solution seemed to be relentlessly pounding the fortress with cannon, then to throw men at it.
Which was exactly the sort of attack for which du Malphias had been prepared.
Doctor Frost circulated. He refilled the men’s sherry glasses, then raised his in a toast. “To a Mystrian solution for a Mystrian problem.”
They all laughed, then drank, the Prince included. As he set his glass down, however, he wondered if his Norillian problem would scuttle their solution.
Owen shook his head. “Rivendell will never allow this. Success would take away from his glory.”
Count von Metternin smiled. “Do not be so dour, my friend. There is a way. I will suggest, perhaps, to Colonel Langford, that were I leading the assault, I would send a diversionary attack up the cliffs. I would use Mystrians. Keep them out of my way, you know, since they are not Norillians. I would give them a chance, but contain the danger. Langford will mention this to Rivendell. His lordship and I shall talk. I shall congratulate him on having had the same idea I did. Once he believes he came up with it, that I think it is brilliant—and that it will put an end to Mystrian complaints—he will adopt it.”
Vlad smiled. “If it succeeds, it is his brilliance. If it fails, it is Mystrian weakness. Do you honestly believe Rivendell will fall for this?”
“He cheated to save himself two pounds, Highness. He thinks himself a military genius.” Von Metternin smiled easily. “If I go and find Langford now, by noon tomorrow the plan will be set.”
Forest laughed. “Then I think you should get to your work, my lord. I will get my quartermaster requisitioning the necessary arms, and we shall take a fortress.”
Vlad closed the door to Government House as the Frosts, Major Forest, and Owen Strake left. Count von Metternin had headed out to find Colonel Langford, leaving him and Gisella alone save for servants. The Prince turned to her and bowed deeply.
“I cannot thank you enough, my dear. You made this evening delightful.”
She moved to his side and slipped her hand inside his right elbow. “Though the social niceties were never of much interest, I am not ignorant of them. Your man, Chandler, has an excellent grasp of protocol. The rest is in making people feel important and, as you said, welcome.”
“You do it very well.”
“You are very kind.” She paused, then stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. “And I notice a relief in you that has been absent since I first met you. Do I no longer make you nervous?”
“I think you always shall. No, my dear, I do not mean that in any bad way.” Vlad glanced down, blushing. “When I see you, when you smile, I get that same flutter in my stomach that I did when we first met. And I feel hollow when you are away from me. That is a case of nerves, certainly, but one I would not be without.”
She squeezed his arm, and his stomach fluttered.
“As for my relief, my darling,” he continued, “it is because of Major Forest and your own Count von Metternin. Forest pointed out a way to take the fortress. The fact that it uses tactics you’d never see on the Continent means it could take du Malphias by surprise.”
“But Rivendell will not approve.” Gisella shivered. “He is an awful little man, your Johnny. He thinks you are a fool, but he is the fool. He did not even read your report. Please, Vladimir, promise me we shall no more have to entertain him.”
“I wish I could.” Vlad shook his head. “By the end of the month Duke Deathridge will be here with his troops.”
“And Owen’s wife.”
“Yes. And we shall have to invite them, and Lord Rivendell, for dinner. You know this.”
“Yes. I had just hoped it would be otherwise. I shall do all required to make the dinner successful.”
“I am gathering this is a trait among those from Kesse-Saxeburg, and one I like. Your Count von Metternin is off planting the seed that will ensure Lord Rivendell believes Forest’s plan is his own. A dangerous man, the Count.”
Gisella laughed lightly and rested her head on Vlad’s shoulder. “He is like me, not one who fits in at home. Here, he too is more relaxed. Had his duties not required him to attend me, he would have joined Prince Kamiskwa and Mr. Woods on their last expedition.”
“I should like, very much, for him to accompany the mission to the fortress. You can attach him as an advisor to my command.”
Gisella stopped and came around to face him. “You did not tell me you would be going.” Her expression deadened. “I did not think you would abandon me.”
Vlad reached out, resting hands on both her shoulders. She’s trembling. “I have no choice, darling.”
“You have Major Forest to lead them.”
“I do, but he does not have the standing to be present as things are planned.”
“Count von Metternin can speak for him.”
“He could. I have no doubt he will, but I need to be there as well. No, please, my darling Gisella, do not look at me that way. You know me better. You know I do not desire glory.”
She stroked his cheek. “My dearest, I know you do not seek military glory, but your mind seeks answers. Do you not think I know of the experiments you have been conducting with Mugwump? I marvel at your genius, but I fear for you. What you would see as just another experiment might put you in harm’s way. I love you, I truly do, and I would not have you hurt for anything.”
“And I have no desire to be hurt. But I do have responsibilities. The Crown may not recognize how important this is. Rivendell will not use our troops because he is stupid. I need to convince him that he must. For that I must go.”
She slowly shook her head. “I understand your reasoning, but I also know you seek the adventure. Not of war, but of seeing places you have not seen. You have showed me the jeopard; Nathaniel shot it, but only after you missed, my darling. It was coming for you. And in all the times I have heard you tell that story, you marvel at the beauty of the beast, never mentioning the danger you were in. I love you for this, but I fear for you because of it. You will put yourself in a place where danger can find you.”
“And if I promise you I will not? If I have the Count swear he will not let me do so?”
Gisella laughed. “You are both men. He will promise. You will plan. He will protest, but not too much, then join you. I know this. And, alas, I know there will be no gainsaying you.”
Vlad pulled her to him. “And you will worry, and I would do anything to prevent that.”
Her hands came up around his shoulders, one sinking into his hair. She looked up and kissed him softly. “If you were to do that, you would not be the man I love.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
May 19, 1764
Temperance
Temperance Bay, Mystria
To Owen’s surprise, Bethany Frost slipped her arm through his as the six of them started the trip back to the Frost home. Bethany had slowed her pace so that her parents, uncle, and brother drew ahead of them. “You are completely lost in thought, Captain. What is it?”
“I don’t think you want to know, Miss Frost.”
“I should not have asked if I did not.”
Owen sighed. “Would you think me a coward if I told you I feared returning to du Malphias’ fortress?”
“No, Captain. I should think you very intelligent and brave, because I know you shall go regardless.”
“You’re very kind.”
She looked up at him, her blue eyes flashing. “I read your journal. I know exactly how brave you are, both from what you wrote, and from what others have said.”
He shook his head. “Mr. Woods exaggerated.”
“Of course he did, but I could see the truth.”
“When I think of du Malphias—and he invades my nightmares far too often—I see his face lit by the pistol backflash. He shot me cold-bloodedly. It wasn’t that I was an enemy. I was just an experiment. If I lived or died, it meant nothing. The man’s expression revealed neither anger nor pity. He showed no emotion whatsoever. He was wholly inhuman and I am not certain we know of a way to defeat such.”
“He was arrogant, and his arrogance, then, will prove his downfall.”
“I shall trust in your wisdom.”
“Trust more in the humanity of your companions. He is a man surrounded by the dead. He is alone, and together you shall defeat him.”
Bethany stopped at the crossroads of Diligence and Virtue to call out to her parents. “The night is pleasant. May Captain Strake escort me on an extended walk?”
Her father nodded his assent. Bethany directed him toward the west, along Virtue. “I hope you don’t mind, Captain.”
“Not at all.”
“Good, because I need to speak with you.” She looked up again, a kind smile on her face, but her eyes looking sad. “I fear this is the last I shall be able to walk with you.”
Owen looked straight ahead. “I never meant to lead you on, Miss Frost.”
She laughed. “You will do better, sir, to listen with your ears, rather than your mouth. You did not lead me on. You have been very direct, from the first, that you are married and you love your wife. I have known this from things you said about her, and things you have not said. I know you love her from things you wrote in your journals, and the letters you had me write for you during your convalescence.”
“Miss Frost…”
“No, Captain, I beg you. Let me say my piece directly, or I shall never get through it.”
“Very well.”
She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “I am neither silly nor stupid. When you first came to stay with us, I knew you were different from the others. I enjoyed your company. I enjoyed seeing you argue with my brother and discuss with my father. I felt very much at ease around you. I had not known that sense since Ira had been taken from me. I thought certain I had made a fool of myself and I was pleased when you left with Nathaniel, as it gave me a chance to recover my dignity.
“And yet, while you were away, I found myself missing you. When a missive would arrive, my father would read it aloud, and I would take it and read it over to myself. More than once. Perhaps that was silly, but it gave me comfort.”
Bethany’s grip tightened on his arm. “And then when word came that you were lost, I felt the same pain I had at the news of Ira’s de
ath. It left me prostrate. I prayed for your safe return as I had for his—and told God that He had taken one from me, so He must deliver you to me. And yet, even as I did so, I remembered your wife. I remembered you belonged to her.”
A hand rose to brush away a tear. “When you came back, God had answered my prayer. I made certain you would get well. That became my mission. For me, yes, but also because I knew your wife would feel as I did, and I would not have anyone know such grief. This is why I wrote those letters for you, why I reminded you to write her when your strength returned.
“But now she will be coming. I will lose you to her.”
Owen’s guts roiled. Bethany had been his angel during his captivity and during his recovery. The very fact that he feared her hating him more than his wife doing so had revealed the nature of his feelings for Bethany. Those feelings were wrong—he knew it, and her hatred would be just punishment. The pain in her voice lashed at his heart, for only by misleading her could they have reached this state of affairs.
He stopped and turned to face her. “Don’t, Bethany, please. I…”
She pressed a finger to his lips. “You will tell me you have feelings for me, too. Of course you do. How could you not? I nursed you back to health. But you love your wife. She has your heart. I know that. I am content with that, with knowing I am your friend. But I shall have to be your friend at a distance.”
“It does not have to be that way…” Owen stopped, not certain what he was saying. “I wish I had not done what I did.”
“You did nothing, other than be yourself. And this is why I must put distance between us.” She shook her head. “It will hurt, but to not do this will hurt more.”
“Miss Frost…”
“No, Captain. You see, I know a woman who married a man she did not love because she thought her heart’s desire was dead. She listened to rumors that were false. And even though those rumors had been spread by the man she married—spread because of his desire to win her heart—she is married nonetheless. Still, she yearns for her lover and sees him. And I see how it tears her apart when they cannot be together.”
At the Queen's Command Page 38
