“A mood.” I shrugged it off.
In the night, fire arrows put our camp in uproar. Tursel combed the hills, and Tantroth, but found no foe. In the morn we were all weary, and sleepless.
Larissa paced from pole to pole, in her soft, sumptuous tent. “Margenthar probed my walls.”
“How know you this?” With Soushire Castle under siege, no runner could set forth.
“I know.” A spy, perhaps, or loyal observer outside the walls.
I mustn’t let her leave. “Hriskil’s within a league of our camp.” Our patrols, prowling through woods and fields, reported the road clogged with wagons and supplies, and men amarch.
“Would you I lost my domain?” Her tone was testy.
“Of course not, my lady.”
“We gird ourselves to throw back an attack.” Her pacing stopped. “What if Hriskil does nothing, but waits?”
“We wait with him.”
She lowered her voice. “That, I can’t afford. I must be home, and soon.”
“Uncle Mar hasn’t the strength—”
“He’s wily, and wouldn’t besiege me without hope of victory.”
I nodded reluctantly. “Unless his goal is to draw you home.”
“Why, to aid the Norlanders? Even Mar wouldn’t do that.”
“Think you not?” My tone was savage.
She threw up her hands. “That’s as may be. Five days, no more. Then I’m off.”
Almost, I asked, “And Groenfil?” But I knew enough to keep the thought to myself.
Afterwards, I strode through the dusty town with Anavar. Kadar and a dozen men dogged our heels. “Can’t she understand we need them all? If one lord leaves, another will follow. What if Tantroth decides he’s better off roaming Eiber?”
Anavar snorted. “You’d profit of it. But first he’d need to pass Hriskil.”
“Tantroth’s an imp riding moonbeams. No one sees him in the night.” In that, he’d earned my grudging respect.
“It’s not so difficult, when you know the terrain.” Anavar bent, tossed a pebble past a guard’s nose. “What a meager town, Pezar. And my stipend isn’t enough to—look, there’s Tanner.”
My bondservant raced down the road, arms windmilling. “M’lor! Lor’ King!” The boy’s face was red. “Tursel looks everywhere for you.” He panted for breath. “Hriskil’s coming!”
I looked about; not a horse in sight. “Let’s go!” I dashed toward our camp, trailing guards.
I bent, hands on knees, trying to regain my breath. Anavar cantered up on his stallion, Ebon’s reins in hand. I’d been in too much haste to stop and saddle him; I’d raced through our camp like one demented, headed to our defensive wall. Kadar, who’d taken a moment to gather men and mounts, glared at me without cease. I did my best to ignore him. When I could speak, I gasped, “I see nothing.” Tursel’s thumb flicked past our battlement, to the Eiber trail. “Listen, sire.” He cocked an ear.
All I could hear was the thudding of my heart. Then, the unmistakable creak of wagons, the soft clop of a thousand hooves, the trod of booted feet. “How far?”
“Past the next ridge.”
I swallowed. Sweat sprang up. I could smell my fear. “Wouldn’t he attempt ...” I ought say naught, lest I reveal my ignorance before Anavar and my guards. But I threw caution to the winds. “Surely Hriskil knows we hear his approach.”
“Aye, and that our scouts spotted him hours past. So why chafe his men with silent ride? They must organize themselves into order of battle. Besides ...” Tursel pointed to the narrow pass, and beyond. “It’s here he must cross, and he knows we know it.”
“How long have we?” My mouth was dry.
“Lord Raeth chose well, to fortify Pezar. The road beyond constricts so. Hriskil will need time to bring up his archers, arrange his horse, send the pikemen—”
“How long?” Abruptly, my tone had a bite. Glancing at Anavar, I flushed, and sought to soften it. “Please, Captain. You know of war.”
“Fifth hour, at the earliest. I rather think he’ll wait ’til morn.” Tursel paused. “I would.”
Then Hriskil might not. I managed not to say it.
Somberly Tursel and I stared at the trail, and the hills beyond. Anavar swung down from his stallion and climbed the wall to my side. We gazed down at the unseen foe.
This very moment I should be astride Ebon, issuing orders, arranging the cavalry, the archers, the pikes, but my head was a jumble. “Tursel?” My voice was meek. “How would you dispose our force?”
“Archers there, on the hill, shieldmen and pikes before them. Cumber’s men here behind our redoubt, where you see them.”
“And?” I paced the stony battlement.
“What else? There’s no room to deploy, my lord. That’s why we chose this place. It makes our army the equal of his.”
“But Hriskil’s bringing up his horse and pikes, you said.”
“Of course. Why would he not?”
“Why would we not?”
“Lord of Nature, Rodrigo, look at the terrain!” A pause, in which Tursel heard no answer. He gentled his tone. “Look, sire, past the walls. What do you see?”
“To our right, the Caled peaks.”
“No, just out there.” He pointed.
“Past the stream? A steep, rocky hill rising to a flat. It overlooks our fortifications.”
“Precisely. If their archers took it ...”
“We’d need retreat.” From the earthworks, from the pass.
“So we hold it with archers and pikes. You of course note the rope ladders our bowmen climb to the plateau?”
I snapped, “I’m not blind!”
“They’ll pull them up after. What’s within our archers’ range from the terrace?”
“The meadow, the road ... everything. Almost to the wood.”
“Yes, sire. Now, here.” He pointed straight before us. “What do you see?”
I was a boy, at lessons of war. “Our walls curve across from hill to hill, like a dam across the valley. The land slopes down from where we stand; our footing is higher than the attacker’s.”
“Beyond our walls?”
“The meadow, then the woods beyond.” I was calm now, and searching out features to describe. “The meadow widens with distance from the walls. That is, it’s widest where it meets the woods. The peaks narrow the field as it nears our walls.”
“Back there, where the wood is thickest, how much room to deploy?”
“I don’t ... I’m not sure.” The admission shamed me.
Anavar stirred. “Look, sir, Hriskil will probably set his cavalry at that clearing to the left. A far reach for our bowmen.” Though we had the heights, and a farther shot.
My eyes roved the field. “I suppose there, in the center, they could assemble cohorts of foot soldiers. Ten, easily. Three thousand men.” Still only a fraction of his force.
“Good, my lord. And as they advance?”
Arrows darkening the sky. Screams. The thud of hooves. I grimaced; that wasn’t what Tursel meant. “The field narrows. I already said that.”
“Yes, my lord. How many men abreast, when they reach the walls?”
Would his questions have no end? “A hundred, at most.”
“And their horse?”
“No room for them. Their track is uphill and crowded.” Uncle Raeth had done well. I saw it now, better than before.
“And on our side, my lord?”
“A few hundred on the wall, reinforcements below.” I turned. “Somewhere behind us, a reserve in case they break through.”
“They’re positioned on the Mill Road.”
“And our horse ...” I studied. “Where?”
“Straight down Pezar Road, sire. At our campsite.”
“You jest.”
“It’s, what, a moment’s ride? They’re out of arrow range, guarding tents and supplies as well. Three men with semaphores, here, there at Mill Road, and in camp. Simple signals already arranged.”
I squinted, turned glumly to the wall. “You’ve no need of me. I might as well be home in Stryx.”
“Ah, Roddy.” The hint of a smile. “Lord Raeth had months to ponder the land. It’s his deployment I set in train.”
“One I should have studied.” My tone was bitter. “All the while we camped here, I was too busy. Babbling at Tresa. Vanquishing a silversmith. Quarreling with my lords.” My fine words to Tantroth meant nothing, if I looked not to the safety of my troops.
The canter of hooves. Tantroth, on his gray steed, his aides and a dozen well-armed guards in tow. The duke of Eiber sprang down, climbed our meager battlement with spry step. “So, my lord, the moment approaches.”
“You sound eager.”
“Resigned, perhaps. A maiden can only flit from rock to rock playing catch-my-sash for so long, before wearying of the game.” Tantroth glanced about. “And a sturdy playing ground, this.”
“Better than the last?” My tone was truculent.
“It wasn’t the lay of the land that defeated us.” His gaze seemed curious. “Look you for quarrel?” At that, Captain Tursel frowned, looked away.
Ashamed, I gave no answer. Then, to Tantroth, “If you were Hriskil ...”
“Yes, my lord?”
“What would you do?”
“On the morrow, or beyond?” He pursed his lips. “I’d test the wall, of course, to see if the child king has mettle. Were I rebuffed, I’d bring the whole weight of my force to bear. Who is that boy behind you, and why does he glare so?”
“You know full well—” No, perhaps he didn’t. Before renouncing Eiber, Anavar had been squire to Lord Treak, a cousin of Tantroth, but that didn’t mean the duke had met him. And until now, I’d carefully kept them apart. “That’s Anavar, Baron of the Southern Reaches. My ward.” A wave, as if it were of no import. “Baron, make your greeting, and ask Elryc if he would sup with me tonight.” A feeble errand, but all I could conjure.
From Anavar, the shortest of bows, little more than a nod. He swept down from the wall, swung aboard Edmund, and was off.
“Now, where were we?” Tantroth’s gaze flickered to mine. “Yes, I’d bring the weight of my force to bear. I’d build fortifications there, at the edge of the woods. You know, the boy lacks manners. Perhaps Lord Treak failed to teach him.”
Gamely, I focused on our defense, ignoring the barb. “Why build fortifications?”
“When I split my force, you’d be tempted, would you not? To sally forth with Groenfil and old Tantroth, and push me from the pass? So, fortifications to hold you at Pezar.”
“Why split your force?”
“This isn’t the only pass, my lord, merely the best. Far more work to haul wagons laden with supplies through the Ukra, or down along the sea road. But it could be done. Soon or late, I’d be behind you.”
I said, “He tried that, with Danzik.”
“Ah, but you were down in Cumber, then at Stryx, not in Pezar. Here’s the heart of it: if Hriskil withdraws from the pass, you follow, and Eiber’s open to you. If he turns to press you, you retreat to the pass. Stalemate. But if he fortifies, Hriskil has more than enough men to hold you at Pezar. If you make for Cumber, his superior force will fall on you like wolves on a doe. So you’re committed here. That gives him time. If he sends but half his men, even a third, by autumn he’ll be in Stryx, or better yet, Cumber. If you turn to fight them, he’ll take the pass behind you.”
“We’ve lost?”
“Did I not say so, on the road to Pezar?”
My mouth worked, but I had no words.
Tursel took up my cause. “It’s not so simple as that. A victory at the pass—”
“Would encourage Larissa, and if she stays, Groenfil must.” Tantroth’s tone was dry. “And Hriskil may take ill, or the Ukras stir.” A wave. “Vagaries of war. But you asked what I’d do, were I he.”
“Thank you.” My voice was thick.
“As to that hill, again I offer you my archers. You can scarce have too many when—”
“Again?”
“Tursel refused them. I can’t imagine why.” His tone was sardonic.
“Because we have enough to—” Exasperated, Tursel broke off. To me, “My lord, arrows fly west as well as south.”
I blinked, took in his meaning. “At us?” Our walls were well below the plateau; our defenders would be helpless against flights of arrows from the hill. I turned from his stubborn visage.
Neither Tursel nor Tantroth spoke. But Kadar had tensed, and the hands of the duke’s riders were near their weapons.
Rustin, I need you. Take charge, regent, and end this madness.
Tantroth said tightly, “Naturally, a man of Cumber knows not the meaning of an oath, but that he voice his calumny in the presence of—”
Tursel reared. “Raeth knew you for a knave and traitor who—”
Kadar edged closer to me, hand on sword.
Tantroth rolled his eyes. “What keeps me in your camp, amid slurs and contempt?”
“Silence, the lot of you!” My shout echoed from peak to wall. “An end to this!”
“How, my lord?” Tantroth.
Yes, how? For a yawning moment, I hesitated.
Then I took deep breath. “Tantroth, your archers to the hill, and be quick, they’re sore needed. Give their command to Tursel, who has charge of this place. Tursel, in private, you will ask pardon of the duke for doubting his oath. You object? Say not what is in your face. Do it, or leave us. Kadar!”
My bodyguard jumped. “Yes, my lord?”
“We thank thee for thy good service. When our realm is secure, we shall find thee reward. But thou hast no longer the care of our person. Protect Lord Elryc, who on our death is the last of our line.”
“But—my Lord who’ll—you can’t! You must have guard!”
“Yes.” I jumped off the wall, stepped into Ebon’s stirrup, swung myself into the saddle. A twitch of my reins, and Ebon nosed his way among Tantroth’s armed riders. “My lord duke!”
Tantroth raised an eyebrow.
“These men here, or such others as you choose. They’ll guard my person and have the sole say of it.”
“Roddy!” Kadar leapt off his mount, threw himself on his knees, clutching my stirrup. “Whatever I’ve done, I beg your forgive—Lord Rustin made me swear—please, sire!”
“Take ease, Kadar. You’ve done no ill. And I’m in good hands.” Slowly, I turned. “Am I not?”
After a time, Tantroth’s gaze fell from mine, and to the muddy earth. “Why,” he said, “I suppose you are.”
Fourteen
TANTROTH’S GUARD JANGLED alongside as we rode to camp. The duke was silent a moment, then conferred with Azar, Sandin and Pardos, his aides. Turning, he issued a few terse commands to his men, giving charge of my bodyguard to Pardos. I cared not whom he named; I’d just put my life in the hands of the man who’d once betrayed me to Uncle Mar. Insane, perhaps, but I could think of no other way. Were Tantroth to ride off, or sit on his hands in the camp, Groenfil and Soushire would likewise abandon my standard. His loyalty must be earned, and claimed.
“Hold, Rodrigo, if you will.” Tantroth.
I reined.
“There, past the mill, something you ought see.”
“Very well.” I spurred, along the Mill Road. In moments we’d passed the pitifully few yeomen we held in reserve against Hriskil. Near the mill I reined in, alone with Tantroth and his guard. “Are you satisfied?”
“With what, my lord?”
“That I consent. That my life is yours.” Perhaps he wouldn’t kill me; perhaps he only wanted to learn, as would I, the extent of my trust.
“Pardos, give us a few paces.” Tantroth led me a short distance, said quietly, “It wasn’t necessary. I was irked, but—”
“Enough to demonstrate Tursel’s distrust to me.”
“Well, yes. But I wouldn’t have left. I’ll give you back your Kadar.”
For a moment, I considered it, then smiled. “Our thanks, L
ord Tantroth, but no. We’re safer in your charge.”
“I’ll fight for you, Rodrigo.” He flushed. “It’s in my self-interest to hold the pass against—”
“Why, yes, but we prefer thy honor to self-interest.” I tugged at Ebon’s reins. “Was there else, my lord?”
As the afternoon wore on, with no sign of attack, a hollow formed in the pit of my stomach. I could scarce swallow. The Norlanders were so many, our wall so low. I found myself sitting with Elryc, Genard and Anavar, in my brother’s tent Pardos, of course, had set guard, all about us.
“Take ease, sir, it’s just that you want battle.” Anavar.
Not just battle: decisive battle. Hriskil had halted our daring thrust into Eiber that might have forced his withdrawal from Caledon; now we were thrown back on the defensive at Uncle Raeth’s border wall. A sturdy defense at Pezar would bring no glorious victory, but if we held, we’d at least keep Hriskil’s forces from uniting into an irresistible river of men and horse.
I paced from tent pole to flap. “I want it over. Or deferred. How will we sleep this night, knowing the blood dawn will bring?” I sat for a moment, paced anew, as a thought struck me. “Anavar!”
The apple he was coring flew out of his hands and rolled across the tent. “Yes?” He leaped to his feet, blushing.
“Find my lord Groenfil, if you would. I wish an envoy sent.”
“To Groenfil?” Anavar’s brow furrowed.
“No, you twit, to Hriskil.”
While we waited, I perched on Elryc’s bed and retrieved the apple.
My brother’s tone was cautious. “Roddy, a jest before battle wouldn’t be meet.”
I forbore to answer. In a few moments, hasty footsteps. “Let me pass, villain! I’m Lord Groenfil!”
“No one enters without—”
I poked out my head. “It’s all right, Pardos. He, Lady Larissa, my brother ... who else? Anavar. And your master Tantroth. They have access to my person.”
A tug at my jerkin. “Tursel. And Genard.”
I named them.
In Elryc’s tent, Groenfil looked for a place to sit, found none. “What’s this about an envoy?”
“To Hriskil. Will he honor a flag of truce?”
“He has in past. Why?”
“Send a message. For his ears, or none. ‘To Hriskil, Kong of the Norlands, from Rodrigo, King of Caledon, greetings. Know why we have summoned thee to this pass: our vassal Tantroth of Eiber laments that thy prolonged visit to his lands has sore afflicted his people.’ ”
The King (Rodrigo of Caledon Book 2) Page 21
