by Duncan Lay
‘And to us, sir. There are many farms in this district, but they are well spread out. Soon we will be looking at forage parties having to stay out overnight, as they will not be able to return before nightfall. And, with respect, sir, burning out farms is not going to win us friends here. It will only make our task more difficult.’ Jennar felt he had to speak up. He had been disgusted by what had happened back at the town and had no desire to see it repeated across the countryside.
But Havrick just glowered at Jennar.
‘We are not here to make friends, Lieutenant. We are here to destroy a band of rebels. As long as we accomplish that task, nothing else matters. This area is obviously a hotbed of rebellion. We must show them the consequences. Meanwhile, we must redouble our efforts in searching. They cannot be far away now. Two of your groups will have wizards with them, to help guide and ease their progress.’ He gestured to where his men guarded the pair.
‘Sir, I must protest! We cannot provide the sort of help you require! You cannot expect us to go against a mage like Barrett!’ The older wizard leaned on his heavily-decorated staff and clutched his long orange robes closer around him. His younger companion nodded in agreement.
Havrick ignored that. ‘Jennar, if they refuse to help you, then flog them. A touch of the whip should be enough to persuade them where their duty lies.’
Martil had quickly persuaded Merren that they needed time to train up their new recruits. He made sure he did this while Barrett slept, exhausted from the effort of working magic. He had proved able to hold open a gateway long enough for the men, the farmers, a dozen cattle and two score goats to go through, but it had been hard work for him. Martil had stood beside him, urging people to hurry, but keep hold of the wizard’s oaken staff if they did not want to end their days embedded in a tree. Then Barrett had to clear an area so the livestock could have somewhere to graze.
Despite their talk, Martil did not trust Barrett to refrain from blurting out that Havrick’s men were rampaging through the countryside. He needed time for the countryside to get angry and want to rise up against Havrick. He needed a good reason to keep Barrett away from Merren—and Count Sendric had provided a perfect one, sending back a message from town, carried by one of Barrett’s birds.
The wizard had provided Sendric and Conal with half a dozen small birds that would fly straight to him when released from their cage. And the message this one brought was important—that Havrick had dragged the area’s only two wizards out to the woods to help his search. This was a serious danger to their plan to keep Havrick searching in the wrong direction. Just as Barrett was using the local wildlife as scouts, those wizards could also utilise the birds and the animals to take the search in the right direction. The easiest solution would be to kill the wizards but Merren did not want them to suffer on Havrick’s behalf.
So, as soon as he woke, Barrett was sent out into the woods, with Tarik and his men to support him, with orders to stop the wizards and buy the recruits enough time to be trained.
The ploy was simple—hunters sent a few volleys of shafts as the companies of soldiers blundered through the trees, killing and wounding a handful, then faded away once more. It was an effective brake on progress.
Then Barrett was able to concentrate on the groups with the wizards. Thanks to his magic, they were unable to summon so much as a sparrow to help their search, while their efforts to make the woods easier to march through saw Barrett reply by making things grow faster, to the point where it became impenetrable, right where the soldiers were looking.
It worked perfectly. When soldiers weren’t exhausting themselves trying to hack through immensely thick undergrowth, they were diving for cover as a hail of arrows flew in. Being sent out front as a scout became a death sentence for the soldiers.
Meanwhile, Havrick was discovering that wizards were not the answer to all his problems. Trying—and failing—to achieve much with magic still exhausted them, and searching time was cut down considerably. The older mage had to be carried around by four sweating soldiers in a rough sedan chair. Then they were always demanding food to replenish their energy, consuming twice what the average trooper could live on. Havrick’s demands for faster progress were constantly being met with Jennar’s reply that they had to stop and wait for the wizards to catch up. It was becoming a struggle for Havrick to keep his temper.
Without Barrett, Karia became their source of information, and Martil made sure she concentrated only on what was happening in the woods.
Meanwhile he had the time to work not just on Sirron and his farm boys, but also on the other men. They had performed well from ambush and had stood their ground as the archers destroyed a small band of cavalry but Martil knew the next time they fought, it would be against a full squadron of cavalry, enough men so it would come down to a stand-up fight.
The men were ordered to wear hauberks. Some were second-hand, most of these had arrow holes in them, crudely patched, while the guardsmen’s ones looked impeccable. Martil could see how the farm boys were struggling in the heavy coats. While a hauberk did not restrict movement initially, the weight grew progressively heavier. Even the fittest of men would tire swiftly fighting in one. Then he made them take up shields and spears. Every man was unfamiliar with these but Martil knew this was the weaponry that would keep them alive when fighting cavalry.
He drilled them hard, teaching them the basics of spear fighting, keeping them at it until their right arms were too tired to even lift the heavy spears any more and they were heartily sick of practising the same strokes: up at a cavalryman, down at an infantryman, and the thrust from the second row of a shield wall into the enemy’s front line. He fretted that the training was nowhere near enough but knew he did not have much time so, as quickly as he dared, he took them to the next stage.
‘A shield wall only succeeds while the men in it have courage and heart,’ Martil told them. ‘But if you do not have trust in each other, if you fear for your own safety, it will crack like an egg. Stay together and live. Try to run and you die. Understand?’
He formed them into three ranks, the guardsmen at the front and sides, the farm boys at the back and the militia in the middle. The guardsmen dropped to one knee, shields rammed into the ground, spears pointing upwards. The militia stood close behind them, shields held high to protect both themselves and the guardsmen, spears also held high. The farm boys were close behind them, bracing the militia and supporting the spears. He rode along the front of the wall then, showing them how no horse would charge home into a tightly packed wall of spears.
He took one of the captured heavy cavalry horses, a huge beast, and spurred it at the line. He knew that, to the men in the front row, it was a daunting sight. But even the trained warhorse would not press home the charge and veered away from the massed iron points.
‘A man on a horse needs four feet of room to ride and swing his sword. A man with a shield and spear needs only two feet! So each trooper is riding down a corridor that ends in three ranks of two spears—that’s six spears to each horseman!’
Then he formed them into a shield wall, and had men take turns standing in each row, as well as joining him in running at the shield wall and forcing it to stand firm to repel them. By the end of the day, the men were exhausted, but Martil felt they all had a better idea of what they would need to do. They were not ready to take on a rival shield wall, but he hoped they could stand up to one charge of cavalry.
Martil washed quickly in the cold stream and went to find Karia. He knew she had been playing with Merren and he thought he should give the Queen a break.
He arrived to find Merren working on Karia’s reading. He watched them for a while, as they were both absorbed in the simple sheet of parchment from which Karia was reading, and occasionally crossing out and correcting a word, with a little help from Merren. He listened to what was a story about a beautiful queen who kept having handsome princes arrive, wanting to marry her, but who ruled happily by herself, without silly men.
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Karia was sounding out the words, helped by Merren, who looked up and smiled as Martil stepped into the warm cave.
‘I don’t think I know that saga,’ he smiled.
‘It’s one we wrote ourselves. It’s a game we have been playing, so we thought we’d write it down,’ Karia explained.
‘The plot sounds good,’ Martil agreed. ‘Do you want to go for a walk?’
‘Let’s all go for a walk!’ Karia jumped up.
‘Look, I don’t think the Queen…’ Martil began but Merren cut him off.
‘I need some fresh air,’ she said.
It was a strange walk. Karia gambolled along between them, using her magic to make them laugh. Fish jumped out of the stream to wave at them, animals came up to talk, and tell them nice spots to visit. Then she wanted to pick flowers, and made a bush grow them until there was enough for a bunch.
‘Perhaps you should give them to Merren, to thank her for looking after you,’ Martil suggested.
‘I think we look after each other,’ Merren smiled.
‘She’s helping me with my reading and writing. But I’m not that good yet. You’ll still have to read me stories,’ Karia declared.
Martil had to hold back a laugh. ‘I’ll be happy to,’ he said gravely.
Walking through the trees, away from the camp, gave him a strange feeling. He thought for a moment and realised it was peace. He could just enjoy a time when he did not have to worry about planning a battle, fighting, or waving the bloody Dragon Sword to win the war. He looked at the little girl and the Queen, who were going through the flowering bush to find the best blooms. They were both changing. The scared, dirty, moody little girl he had first met was gone, replaced by someone much happier; someone who was a joy to be around. Now, when he had to be elsewhere, he missed her. He knew he had changed, as well. The anger was still there—he guessed it would always be part of him—but around her it was buried deep. The Queen, too, seemed to be softening—certainly relaxing. He could not help but look at them together and feel it would not be too great a stretch of the imagination to see this as a family. It was a dream that could not come true but he told himself there was no harm in dreaming, surely?
Karia giggled as Merren tickled her with a flower. Sometimes she felt as though she never wanted to leave this place. When she had first seen it, she had not thought that—it just reminded her of the time she had spent with her da and brothers out in the woods. That seemed merely a bad dream now. It was as if it had happened to someone else. Here there was plenty of food and people gave her their attention and care. She loved playing with Merren, who talked to her as if she were a grown-up, and had even plaited her hair once. Barrett was rarely fun, but he was always kind, and learning magic was the most exciting thing she had ever done. Each day brought new enchantments. She felt—and saw—the world come alive around her. And then there was Martil. When she was with him, she felt safe. He was gentle and kind, answered her questions and gave her treats. He was like a big teddy bear. A hairy, smelly, often sweaty teddy bear but still a nice one.
Merren felt she had discovered a different side to herself these last few days with Karia. All her life she had been so conscious of how she was viewed by other people. The dignity of her position meant that having fun could never be acceptable. Fun, for her, was a state banquet, or perhaps learning a particularly difficult point of law. But with Karia, there was none of that fear. She could just relax and do what she liked. And being silly was fun. Saying silly things, doing silly things; it was just good to laugh and not have to worry about the other person’s ulterior motives. What this meant for her rule, and for what she would look for in her private life, she did not know. It was too early to say and, besides, she was apprehensive of thinking about that too much. It was enough to enjoy the time out here with Karia—and Martil. He was intriguing. She glanced up at him and saw the way he was looking at how she and Karia were playing. It was clear what he was thinking. There was that plan of hers to try and encourage his human side but the more time she spent with him, the more she was unsure how far to push it. It was one thing to plan what she was going to say—actually doing it was something else entirely. Worse, she was beginning to wonder what she did want. Convention—and the terms of the deal her father had made with Duchess Ivene—dictated that she make her marriage an affair of state, but now she wanted to rebel against everything her father—and her aunt—had laid out for her. She was going to be her own style of Queen and perhaps that included choosing who she wanted to be with. Karia was the one who broke the silence.
‘Here you are!’ She offered the flowers to Merren. ‘Thanks for helping me.’
‘You have been reading well,’ Merren told her. She had been surprised by the child’s rapid progress. Her memory was phenomenal and her grasp of the concepts amazingly swift.
‘Thanks, but I don’t want him to think I’m so good that he doesn’t have to read to me any more,’ Karia explained in a loud whisper.
Martil could not help but laugh. ‘I’ll read to you for as long as you want,’ he offered.
‘I’d love that!’ Karia jumped up and gave him a hug.
Martil felt he should say something to Karia, let her know how he felt. But he just couldn’t say it. He saw Merren watching them with a smile on her face, and knew it was a perfect time. But the words would not come. He was still struggling with them when Wime came crashing through the woods.
‘Your majesty, Captain Martil, Count Sendric is back,’ he exclaimed.
Martil had a sinking feeling as they hurried back to Merren’s meeting cave to see Conal and Sendric. Previously Sendric had used birds to send his reports back to the caves. The fact he had returned in person could not be good news.
He was not mistaken.
‘The town is in an uproar. For the past few days, there’s been a steady stream of farmers coming to town, telling everyone that Havrick’s men are burning farms, raping women, stealing livestock and killing anyone who stops them. Farmers are driving their stock into town to try and get away from the foraging parties. The town council fears there will be starvation this winter, as there will be too few farms left to support the district,’ Sendric announced.
‘We cannot allow this to continue,’ Merren declared, just as Martil had known she would. ‘Captain, what should we do?’
Martil sighed. This was what he had hoped for—but were his men ready for it? He would soon find out.
‘We need to recall Barrett, and Tarik’s archers. I need a clear picture of what they are doing, and where. Then we can decide what to do,’ he said carefully.
‘I can get Barrett!’ Karia said excitedly. ‘I’ll send a bird to him now!’
‘Thank you, Karia.’ Merren smiled at her, then the smile faded as she looked at Martil. ‘There is only one thing we can do. We must protect the farmers. And once they know we are fighting for them, they will join us. This could be what we have been waiting for.’
‘It will be risky. We could lose a score of men easily, or even be completely defeated,’ Martil warned.
Merren’s jaw tightened. ‘It is a risk we must take. I cannot take the throne if I do not protect the people. They must see we are different from Havrick and Gello.’
Martil nodded, already wondering if Barrett was going to ignore his pleas and betray him to Merren.
‘Your majesty, with your permission, Conal and I will travel back to Sendric and prepare the town. Havrick has left but a single company of pikemen, and they do little more than eat, drink and patrol the gates and castle. The town is ready to revolt. We just need to make the arrangements,’ Sendric said gravely. ‘With Conal as my go-between, I promise you I can have the town ready when you need to retake it.’
Merren smiled. ‘Then go with Aroaril.’
‘Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?’ Martil asked Conal.
The old bandit grinned. ‘I’d be as much use as a one-armed man at a hand-clapping contest. No, this way I get to eat at inns
every night and sleep in the best fleapits Sendric has to offer. And I feel I’m doing something to help. The Count is a good man with the priests and the town council but he doesn’t know how to talk to gutter scum the way I do.’
Sendric and Conal only stayed long enough to take a bag of gold to help encourage some of the waverers, and had left before Barrett and Tarik arrived back. The wizard looked tired, his clothes stained, and he wolfed into the stew the guardsmen had prepared. Tarik and his archers also looked tired, but nowhere near as bad.
‘We came as soon as we received your message. What news, your majesty?’ he asked, in between mouthfuls of bread.
‘First, what have you been achieving?’ Martil asked.
‘We’ve killed, I reckon, a score of men over the past few days, and wounded just as many. Used up plenty of arrows, but luckily we got that wagonload from Havrick,’ Tarik reported.
‘The wizards have done nothing. At first they were confused when they couldn’t get any animals to respond to them—now I get the feeling they are not even trying,’ Barrett said through a mouthful of food.
Merren nodded her approval.
‘You have done very well. But now we must change tactics. It seems Havrick has unleashed his foraging parties to rape, kill, steal and burn through the countryside. We must stop that.’
‘Indeed,’ Barrett agreed, with a quick look at Martil.
‘I need to know where he has already hit, and good targets and spots for an ambush,’ Martil said hastily.
‘When did you tell the Queen of this?’ Barrett asked. ‘I expected to be called back before now.’
The room went quiet and Martil wished Sendric and Conal had stayed just a little longer, so Barrett had heard it from them, rather than jumping to the wrong conclusion. Or perhaps it was the right conclusion. He would not put it past the wizard to make him look bad.
