by Duncan Lay
“I’m not like the King,” he told them. “If you have an idea to make these lads better, I want to hear it.”
“Maybe we should only train the best of them with the sword. It is going to take moons of work to get some of them even able to work out which end of the blade to hold. And even then, they will be taken apart by the first Kottermani they face,” Bran said, his words spilling out in a rush.
“Well, we can’t leave them to die,” Fallon said, trying to be careful not to shut the guardsman down.
Bran nodded. “Most we can teach to use spears. That way we can have the biggest men at the front with the shields and then others behind, with spears, who can reach over their shoulders.”
“I like it,” Fallon said immediately. “We just have to show them how to use a spear without sticking it in someone’s ear.”
“And why don’t you pick a company to use the shillelagh? We’ve all seen you with it and the Kottermanis have never faced it before,” Bran continued.
“Still, you would need a big set of balls to go into battle armed with little more than a staff,” Gannon said.
“What would you use the balls for?” Kerrin asked. “Kick them at the enemy?”
Fallon cleared his throat. “Maybe just stick with the spears,” he suggested. “Now, get some rest: we need to work them even harder. Aroaril knows when the Kottermanis might come, or how many men they could bring.”
“Are you thinking that Kemal might bring his army back earlier than expected?” Gallagher muttered.
Fallon nodded, even as he waved to the guardsmen who had been training his recruits. “Aye,” he said out of the corner of his mouth. “That is what I would do. Give our families back and then come and take them.”
“Will these lads be ready by then? He’ll be back within a moon and that’ll be his last chance to get an army here before the winter storms hit,” Brendan said warningly.
“Aroaril knows. All we can do is our best,” Fallon said, then patted his friend on the back. “How’re the bruises? I saw you throw yourself into enough shieldwalls for one day.”
Brendan chuckled. “They took one look at the dried blood and brains on my hammer and were running away before I even got there!”
“Well, tomorrow they can’t do that. They have to stand,” Fallon said.
Brendan stretched. “First, I need something to eat. I swear I could swallow a horse and chase the rider right now!”
“You do that. I’ll go and wander around the shelters out there for a while, then duck out and see what has been happening with Devlin and Kemal’s wife Feray.”
“You have more energy than me. But then again, all you did was wander around and wave as people cheered you,” Brendan said with a wink.
“Now that’s the sort of joke I’d expect from Devlin,” Fallon grunted.
Brendan sighed. “He doesn’t laugh any more, that lad. I hope he can again when Riona and his kids are back.”
“Aye, that makes two of us,” Fallon said heavily. “I hope he’ll laugh his head off.”
Brendan shrugged and held up his battered and bloodied hammer. “And I never thought I could kill a man, either. But what we have done has changed us all. Maybe we can never go back to what we were.”
“Aroaril, man! Any gloomier and I’d be calling you Padraig!” Fallon snorted. “Now off with you and get some food in your stomach – that’ll put the smile back on your face.”
He just needed to get them away from here and off to Cavan’s island. Then things could get back to normal and they could forget all about this nightmare.
“Today was great, Dad. Can we do the same tomorrow?” Kerrin asked.
“Maybe. I’m thinking I might need you to work on those Kottermani boys tomorrow.”
Kerrin pulled a face. “That won’t be any fun,” he complained. “I have to keep training. If I need to save you or Mam, I have to put the work in.”
Fallon felt a pang at the thought. How many times had he wanted to hear that from a younger Kerrin? Now he would give anything to have the lad go back to want to play with his soldier figures, rather than practice to be a soldier.
“You have done plenty. But I need you to work on those Kottermanis for me. That is the best way to help Mam,” he said, hating the way he was using that lie to make Kerrin do what he wanted.
“All right,” Kerrin said reluctantly.
“Come on, talk to the recruits with me,” Fallon said, hoping that would make Kerrin smile again.
The recruits were certainly delighted to see them both. Fallon still found it strange to have them cheering him and saluting when he walked past. But it was important that they knew he cared for them, for that was the only way to get them to fight and die for him.
“Had enough to eat?” he asked at a score of shelters, which always brought a smile.
Having Kerrin throw a knife into one of the poles holding up the shelter, or loosing a bolt from his one-hand crossbow into the potato that was sitting on someone’s plate made them roar with laughter, while asking where they were from gave him both an idea of how many more might be coming in from the counties and also how this was a cross-section of Gaelland.
“Get some rest, lads,” he told them. “Because tomorrow the real work starts!”
That always brought a groan and, after the twentieth time he said it, he signaled to Kerrin and the pair of them slipped away, Caley at their heels.
*
“What is this for?” Feray asked with disdain.
Fallon bounced the ball, an inflated pig’s bladder reinforced with leather.
“It’s for a game. We use it to keep fit and have fun,” he replied.
“But why have you brought it here to us?” she demanded.
Fallon tossed it to Kerrin, who caught it on his second attempt.
“I thought your boys might like to get outside in the fresh air and stretch their legs, run around and have fun,” he said. “Kerrin and I will be playing out there. You are welcome to come and watch. Or even to join in if you like,” he said casually.
His attempts to win over Feray were going nowhere. Extra food, even Kottermani delicacies, from the palace kitchen was treated with cool distaste. He had known it was not going to be easy, for he had tricked and abducted her, tortured her husband and threatened to do the same to her son. But time was slipping away and he had to try if he was going to use her to influence Kemal, even unwittingly.
“We’re going now. You might like to enjoy a little sun, while it is out,” he said, putting his arm around Kerrin’s shoulder and walking away.
There was a quiet plea from one of the boys in Kottermani and then he heard the footsteps as they followed him.
The little square outside the Guildhouse was empty, although Fallon had left a couple of villagers in the entrance, to keep an eye on anyone who might be coming near and to stop Feray and her sons if they had the idea to run.
Fallon had no intention of playing out in the open, where they could be seen from the street beyond, but over to the left side of the square, the part without the bloodstains etched into the cobbles, there was room to run behind the shelter of the houses lining the entrance. He and Kerrin began by kicking the ball to each other, the bladder bouncing over the cobbles, while the two Kottermani boys watched, Feray holding the hand of each.
Fallon had not played in years, although it was a common enough game among young guardsmen rather than among children. Like the game of hurling, which the nobles loved to bet on, Gaelish football was less of a game and more of a training exercise for guards, so they could get fit and learn to work with each other as a team without risking serious injury.
The old skills came back and he found himself forgetting about training an army, about winning over Feray, even about missing Bridgit as he chased the ball around with Kerrin. He missed a catch and saw that the Kottermani boys were watching avidly. So next time Kerrin kicked it, he deliberately let it bounce past him and right to their feet.
“Kick it to me,” h
e invited.
The taller of the two boys, Asil, swung his foot and sent the ball bouncing back over the cobbles.
Kerrin raced to get it and kicked it to the other boy, Orhan.
Two kicks later the two boys had torn their hands free of their mother’s and were joining in, the three of them trying to keep it away from the chasing Fallon. Fallon deliberately missed the ball a couple of times to keep the game going but then had Orhan, the boy he had threatened to torture, cornered, Looking at him, he could not believe he had been prepared to use a knife on the lad. It felt like a tale told to scare children rather than something real.
But as he approached, arms outstretched, it stopped being a game – Orhan too remembered all too readily. Abandoning the ball, he raced back to his mother.
Fallon picked up the ball and cursed himself, although was careful not to let anything show on his face. “That feels like enough for today,” he said brightly, puffing a little himself and seeing that the boys were sweating. As Kerrin was also sweating, at least it meant it was not fear making the Kottermani boys perspire.
He tossed the ball back to Asil, who was also edging towards his mother.
“Keep it to play with. Perhaps we can have another game tomorrow,” he suggested.
Without saying anything, Feray hurried her two sons inside. But Fallon noticed they took the ball with them.
“Did that work, Dad?” Kerrin asked.
“We’ll see. But at least we had fun!” Fallon said, turning away and heading back to the castle with his son.
*
“They are not picking up the sword fast enough,” Bran said. “They have forgotten what we have taught them by the time they take another turn with the swords.”
Fallon looked around at his other lieutenants and they all nodded. “We are trying to find the best three hundred and concentrate on them but that is easier said than done,” Gannon agreed. “We can all agree on the best one hundred, perhaps the best two hundred, but then it gets difficult.”
Fallon leaned back against the castle wall and forced a smile to his face. “Look happier,” he said out of the corner of his mouth. “Some of them are watching us.”
As the others straightened up and took the sour looks off their faces, he nodded approval. “Then we only take two hundred for the swords. Work them every day.”
“What of the others?”
“Spears,” Fallon said instantly. “I want them drilling with spears. I don’t know if the Kottermani armor will stop a sword blow but it will not be able to block a spear. I want to fill these streets with long spears, like hedgehogs. Lines of them. A first rank with swords and shields. A second rank with regular size spears, the height of a man, a third rank with spears half a length longer and a fourth rank with spears twice that length. If the Kottermanis want to get through, they will each be facing three spears trying to impale them, just to get to the men with shields.”
“Where are we going to get spears like that from?” Brendan asked.
“We have the spearheads already. Just cut longer poles. See the shipbuilders down by the docks and get the poles they use for pushing ships out, as well as ones they use for oars. All they have to be taught to do then is stand firm and don’t thrust it through the man in front.”
“A spear twice the height of a man will be fearsomely heavy,” Bran warned.
“Then we find the strong ones. Surely that is easier than finding the best swordsmen,” Fallon said encouragingly.
“Aye,” Gannon admitted.
“Then let’s not waste any more time. Who knows how much we have?”
*
Fallon wandered through the square, keeping a close eye on what was going on around him. One of Gannon’s men was screaming at the recruits and he tapped the man on the shoulder, leading him a few paces away.
“They are not men who are doing this for money. They are going to fight for their country. We have to build them up, not break them down,” he said in a whisper, keeping a light smile on his face. “We don’t have the time to do it the normal way.”
The guardsman nodded sullenly and Fallon patted him on the shoulder, keeping the man there with a forceful hand.
“You might be thinking I’m too soft on them. That men who are about to go into battle have to obey without thinking. Yet they will not be standing in a big line with everyone else. They will be split into small groups, fighting alone in streets, not knowing if they are the only ones left. They have to trust you, not fear you, or you will be left to face the angry Kottermanis all alone,” he said.
The guardsman nodded uncertainly and Fallon let go of him, turning instead to the group of ten who were wrestling with the longer spears and nearly hitting each other.
“Men! Come closer!” he called and they stood straighter, delighted to see Captain Fallon taking an interest in them.
He made them stand shoulder to shoulder, physically moving men in until they were touching each other.
“You’ve got to be closer to the man next to you than you are to the women you are shagging,” he told them.
“What if you’re not shagging anyone, Captain?” one of them asked nervously.
“Oh, you will be soon enough. Just tell them you were one of Captain Fallon’s men and they’ll be falling over themselves to get close to you,” he said, making them laugh.
“That’s the way,” he said, inspecting their new line. “Remember that. And remember I am proud of you. All of you!”
He gave them a cheery wave and nodded to the guardsman.
“Dad, what were you talking about?” Kerrin asked.
“Just a silly joke,” Fallon said hastily. Sometimes he forgot Kerrin was there … Now that Bridgit was on her way back, he would have to be careful what he was saying. It would just be his luck for her to get back and find Kerrin swearing like a drunken sailor. That fear made him strangely happy. For the chance to see her again, he would happily endure any number of tongue-lashings. And worrying about her return was far better than worrying about her never returning.
CHAPTER 23
“What do you want?” Gokmen demanded grumpily.
Bridgit smiled thinly. Since she had fooled him into thinking she was carrying Prince Kemal’s child, he had treated her warily. That had changed to something close to respect after the doctor had confirmed she was pregnant. The slave master had even let the doctor keep visiting her and the children once a quarter moon, making sure that all were healthy. His earlier bluster and shouting was almost gone – she could sense the prospect of an outraged Prince Kemal demanding revenge hovered over him at all times.
“Before my people are sold away, they must be brought here, so I can speak to them and they can spend a last day with their children,” she said briskly, making it sound as though there was no choice in the matter.
“Why?” Gokmen growled. “Why can they not see the children as they have been doing?”
“If you want them to be good slaves, then you will do this. They need a proper day together, not just a turn of the hourglass. It makes far more sense to have them all here at once, then they all leave at once.”
Bridgit paused while Ely finished off the translation. Gokmen understood most of what she said but not all and she wanted him to know exactly what she was asking.
“Why do they need this?” Gokmen asked.
“You want them to be good slaves? Then they need this. Or you will find some of them causing trouble – and it will be you who pays the price,” Bridgit said sternly.
“If they try to run, they know the penalty,” Gokmen said remorselessly. “And if they do anything worse, I will kill some of the children.”
Bridgit bit back her fury. “I shall speak to Prince Kemal when he returns. He knows that I alone can make my people into good slaves for you. You will be the one facing the whip if this does not happen,” she threatened.
His eyes widened in anger and, for a moment, she thought she had gone too far – then the familiar wary expression crept
over his face. He obviously felt he could not risk the Prince’s wrath.
“But when the Prince returns, when I tell him of how you have helped, you will be well rewarded,” she added, softening her voice.
Gokmen tugged at his beard. “Why here?”
“Here is familiar to the children. Here they are happy,” Bridgit said simply. “This is one final day of happiness, before their parents leave for a life of slavery. Place guards outside the front door and we shall be just as safe as any other day of visits.”
Gokmen considered this as Ely translated it into Kottermani. Bridgit hoped the young woman was saying all the right things.
“There must be no trouble. If there is, the children will pay for it,” he said finally.
Bridgit hid her relief. Without this, her plan to get the people out of Adana was doomed to failure. “They will arrive after morning prayers and leave after evening prayers,” she said.
Gokmen scowled at her but obviously could not see anything wrong with this. Again she kept her face still. The whole plan was based around giving the guards a series of drinks through the day so that by the evening they would be drowsy and even more bored than usual.
“And there will be plenty of food and drink for them,” she added.
Gokmen grunted. “Agreed then. It will happen next quarter moon. Prince Kemal will be back soon, perhaps even by then.”
“I shall tell him how you have been a good and faithful servant of his and helped my people adjust to their new life,” Bridgit said, then her brain caught up with what Gokmen was saying. “Prince Kemal is returning early?”
“He is,” Gokmen confirmed. “You will be pleased to see him?”
“Oh, most pleased,” Bridgit lied. “But how did you hear these glad tidings?”
Gokmen pointed upwards and rattled off a string of Kottermani.
“What is it? A special wind at this time of year?” Bridgit asked Ely impatiently.
“Birds,” Ely said. “Messenger birds, trained to fly to their home. It seems one of them arrived today from Prince Kemal, as he sails back to Adana.”
“My joy will be complete then,” Bridgit said with a broad smile that got nowhere near her eyes. “Did he say why he returns?”
