In the darkness beyond Nettlefield’s inn, I stopped and began to undo the buttons at the front of my dress.
‘Silvermay, what are you doing?’
‘Take your shirt off and your britches, too,’ I told him calmly.
‘Have you gone mad?’
‘Not so mad I would go where I’m going in a dress. Now get out of your clothes.’
‘Where are you going?’ asked Ryall, who had reluctantly begun to unbutton his shirt.
I didn’t bother with an answer. He would guess soon enough.
29
On the Eve of Battle
The moon was well hidden by cloud as I set out towards the ridge — something I was grateful for. Ryall’s boots were loose on my feet and rubbing, and I was worried the soft skin of my face might give me away if the light of a torch was thrust too close. I bent low and scooped up a handful of mud, which soon adorned my face in the way fine ladies used powders and creams. My disguise passed an early test when a rider stopped me before I’d reached the edge of the camp.
‘Does your captain know you’re wandering about like this?’ he asked.
I deepened my voice and said, ‘He’s too drunk to care, my lord.’
I had no idea if the man was a lord or not, but he liked being addressed as one. He laughed and rode on.
I discovered why he’d laughed so easily when I drew close enough to hear the singing, cursing and shouting — the entire camp seemed as drunk as my imaginary captain. If I strolled among them now, I’d have a tankard thrust into my hand along with a demand that I drain it. Or, worse, I’d catch the eye of a mean-spirited brute spoiling for a fight.
There was nothing else for it. I sat down where I was and waited. It began to rain, a fine drizzle that dampened the shoulders of Ryall’s shirt and the bulky hat I’d brought with me to hide my hair. I shivered and wondered whether the revels would go on till dawn. Should I seek shelter? If there had been any, I would have, but the only places out of the rain were the gaudy tents of the lords and religos.
With no way to count the hours, I could only guess it was well after midnight by the time the ale and the wine ran out and the men settled down to sleep it off. At least the rain had ceased by then. I had a new decision to make now. Carousing or not, this was still an army and guards remained at their posts. If I tried to sneak past them, I might be caught. And even if I managed this dangerous feat, I needed to find the men from Haywode. I could hardly go about the camp crying, Tamlyn, Tamlyn, it’s me, Silvermay!
Perhaps I might solve two problems at once. With a few last pokes at my hair to make sure every strand was tucked up under my hat, I headed straight for one of the guards, letting him see me from a long way off.
‘Who are you?’ he asked.
‘Messengers don’t need a name,’ I replied. ‘I’ve been sent to find Ossin Hawker. He has his arm in a sling, or he did the last time I saw him.’
‘I know the man you mean. He’s part of that new captain’s troop. Just the type to get himself killed first thing tomorrow, that captain — too brave for his own good. Follow this track between the tents, about a hundred paces,’ and he pointed out the way for me.
I counted off a hundred paces, unsure whether my legs were the right measure. None of the sleeping faces looked the least familiar. I marched another ten paces, and then ten more. Was that Dinny Grentree? I bent forward for a closer look, reaching down with one hand to push the frayed edge of a blanket from his cheek. But my hand didn’t make it that far. Suddenly, a blade was at my throat and a harsh whisper warned, ‘Move and I’ll slice your windpipe clean through.’
I froze and said nothing. With the knife so close, what else could I do?
My attacker lowered his head, bringing his lips to just an inch from my ear. ‘Can’t your thieving wait until tomorrow? It’s easier to rob the dead.’
‘I’m no thief,’ I said, somehow remembering to make my voice sound manly.
His other arm encircled me like a snake, pinning me against his body, and his mouth stayed so close he might have bitten off my ear.
‘How old are you, boy?’
‘Seventeen,’ I managed to reply.
‘You’re awfully soft for seventeen.’
He pressed his hand into my stomach, as a taunting father might do to make his son prove him wrong with the sudden flexing of muscle. I doubted my muscles would impress him, though, and I was too frightened to try. Then his arm loosened and his hand shifted to the point of my hip. Something isn’t right, he seemed to be thinking.
He was on to me. I’d have to risk the knife and make a run for it. But before I could steel myself, he took a deep breath, and not because he needed the air. ‘Half of you smells like a boy, but the other half … I could swear …’
He pulled away the knife and, with a hand on my shoulder, spun me round. ‘Silvermay?’
I just had time to see Tamlyn’s face before he hugged me so tightly to his chest I could barely breathe.
‘What are you doing here? This is no place for a —’ He didn’t say the word, and just as well, too — not all the men around us were asleep.
‘This way,’ he whispered and, putting his finger to my lips, he led me along a narrow path between the sprawled and sleeping bodies until we reached the open ground where earlier that afternoon I’d seen men practising battle drills.
‘You shouldn’t have come,’ he said. ‘Why aren’t you with your mother?’
‘I had to see you. The guard said you’re too brave for your own good, that you’ll lead the way into battle and be the first to fall.’
‘That’s the way cowards think: slink to the back and let the foolhardy give their lives. It’s not like that, Silvermay. Men who swing their swords with courage are the hardest to kill.’
‘Promise me you won’t die.’
‘No soldier can make that promise.’
‘Then promise you won’t put your life at risk.’
He shook his head. ‘Nor that. I made a promise to you before the elders, and if I survive the battle, I will keep it. That’s the best I can offer you.’
‘It was a pledge that brought you to this battlefield, wasn’t it? A pledge I made you give.’
‘You didn’t make me. I gave my word willingly, on the day Nerigold died, and later in Vonne.’
‘If you hadn’t made that pledge, you would still be a Wyrdborn and tomorrow no man could cut you down.’
‘I wouldn’t exchange what I have now to be certain of tomorrow, Silvermay. Yes, I can die like any other man, but I can feel love, too, and that is better than the tainted magic of the Wyrdborn. A man must give up what he has, to gain what he needs. I need you, Silvermay, your love, your good heart, the warmth when I put my arm around you, even the smell that told me it was you just now. I could not have any of this if I’d stayed a Wyrdborn. I made a pledge from my heart and no Wyrdborn could ever do that.’
It was a beautiful speech. I could feel the tears of a strange joy behind my eye, yet my reply spoke of the deepest misery. ‘I can’t bear that you might die.’
‘Then pray that I’m among the living when the battle is over.’
‘Norbett will let you all die if there’s a chance of him wearing the crown. Come with me,’ I begged, taking hold of his hand. ‘If we go now, while it is still dark …’
‘No,’ he said, snatching his hand away. ‘A Wyrdborn would let others die in his place, but I’m not one of them any more. I would rather die than give up the joy I feel when I say that.’
I saw that I would not convince Tamlyn to leave the camp with me. And I hadn’t come here to persuade him to. I’d come to fight at his side.
For now, though, we sat huddled together with our backs against a tree. If I tried hard enough, I could imagine away tomorrow’s battle. I told Tamlyn that Ryall was alive, and that he’d brought Lucien back to Athlane. I didn’t tell him that Lucien and I had been driven apart again by the love he felt for me.
‘I suppose we should be thankf
ul that he will have no part in the fighting tomorrow,’ Tamlyn said. ‘Can you imagine what a man like Norbett would do with Lucien at his command?’
When the night was at its coolest, Tamlyn slept fitfully, even as he held me. I was glad to let him rest. I must have nodded off, too, because he shook me awake just as the first kiss of light brushed the horizon.
‘We have to get you back to the village.’
‘No, I want to stay. That’s why I came, to fight alongside you.’
‘I hope the men of Haywode have as much courage when it counts, Silvermay, but you need to go home. Come on,’ he said, hauling me to my feet.
There was more light now and for the first time I could see properly the blue tunic he wore.
‘This tells others I’m a captain,’ he said, ‘which means my orders must be obeyed rather like a husband,’ he added with a wink.
He wouldn’t have looked so pleased with himself if he had known what I was planning.
He led me through the camp, where men were stirring, their faces anxious and unfriendly. More guards had been stationed around the perimeter and, as we approached, one of them was pushing back a boy who couldn’t have been more than thirteen.
‘I don’t want to fight. I want to go home,’ he wailed.
‘Back into ranks, or your mother will see your dead carcass before the battle’s even started.’
The boy staggered away, weeping.
‘Coward,’ sneered the guard. ‘You’re made of sterner stuff, I hope.’ He took a firm grip on his pike to show that he wouldn’t let us pass.
‘Stand easy,’ Tamlyn told him calmly. ‘This one is no deserter, he’s a messenger.’
‘Let me see the scroll, then,’ said the guard.
‘The message is in his head. Safer that way.’
‘Sounds like a story to get a pretty lad away from the fighting,’ said the guard.
If Tamlyn had hesitated for even an instant, the guard would have turned me back. I was hoping he would.
‘You’re more vigilant than most,’ Tamlyn said to the soldier. ‘I’m glad to see it, but it’s important this boy does his job. Let me explain.’ Leaning towards the man, he dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘Few in the camp know it, but Norbett has sent his best archers into the woods for a surprise attack. This messenger has vital instructions for them. Can I trust you?’
The guard’s face glowed like Hespa’s when I’d shared a secret with her. ‘No one will hear a word from my lips, Captain.’ Turning to me, he said, ‘Good luck. You’re free to go.’
Damn the gods! I counted my steps up the slope towards the ridge. When I’d reached a hundred, I turned round. Neither Tamlyn nor the guard was watching. That was better.
The light was growing stronger with every minute. Soon the sun would appear and the day would begin to warm. There wasn’t a cloud; it was going to be a beautiful day, which seemed like more mockery from the gods when thousands were sure to die.
I spotted Tamlyn among his men. He had taken off the blue tunic and others helped him strap on his armour. When it was done, he slipped the tunic over the steel so that he again stood out. Around him, the men of Haywode were arming themselves with whatever they had been able to find in the wagons that stood among the makeshift tents.
The entire camp was alive now, and for those who hadn’t yet shaken off their drunken slumber, horns blew a warning. I imagined I could hear similar sounds carried on the breeze. Men of the northern army would be doing the same.
Some were late in gathering what they needed, it seemed, still picking through the wagons, tossing aside broken swords and armour too rusty to be of any use, testing a shield to judge how much protection it would give. One of these supply wagons was on the edge of the camp, not far below me. I watched a man try a sword, then set it down again in favour of a twin-bladed axe. When he had all he wanted, I set off again — down the slope this time, towards the wagon.
It was mostly empty, I found, when I poked my nose over the edge, and what hadn’t been taken already wasn’t worth having. I reached in for the sword the earlier visitor had rejected and saw that rust had eaten away the metal just below the hilt.
‘Useless,’ I said, letting it drop from my hand.
I climbed into the wagon to search for anything the others might have missed. The movement loosened my hair and a heavy plait fell onto my shoulder. I crouched low while I shoved it back into place, and at that instant saw a man coming towards the wagon — and not just any man. It was my father.
Panic made my hands clumsy and even more hair fell out. I might be wearing pants and a shirt, but he would recognise me at a glance. I had to hide my face. There was only one helmet in the wagon, a shiny brass orb garnished with horns and spikes — the ugliest thing I had ever seen, but this was hardly the time to be choosy. I pulled it down over my head and could only hope that none of my telltale hair protruded from the bottom.
Ossin laughed at the sight I made. ‘That thing’s for the parade ground, not the battlefield. Won’t stop much, but it’s better than nothing, I suppose. What are you fighting with?’
‘I … I don’t know. I only arrived last night,’ I said, thankful that the helmet muffled my voice.
‘Here, this might do.’ Ossin picked a sword from the scraps of armour and broken shards of steel that littered the wagon’s floor. ‘It’s lighter than most — probably why no one else has taken it. Should suit a youngster like you.’
I took the sword from his hand and immediately understood what he meant. I had wielded swords before, but found them too heavy to strike where I was aiming. This was more to my liking.
‘You’ll need a shield, too, or you won’t survive the first wave of arrows.’
‘This one,’ I suggested, picking up one that, like the sword, was light and easier to handle.
‘Never scrimp on a shield, boy. You’ll know why when the arrows start.’ He tossed a number of broken shields aside until he found what he was looking for. ‘See these dints. They’re proof that this shield can do the job.’
I took it from his hand and jumped down from the wagon.
‘What troop are you with?’ he asked.
‘Oh, er … I haven’t been assigned to one.’
‘Then come with me. We have a brave captain who values the lives of his men. That makes him better than most you’ll find in this camp.’
Only minutes after Tamlyn had led me through the camp and seen me off to safety, my father led me back towards him. I was where I had wanted to be from the moment I left Ryall half-naked and bewildered in the lanes of Haywode: beside the man I loved.
30
Melee
Once I saw a woman ride through Haywode attended by a dozen servants and with armed noblemen leading the way. Some said she must be the king’s sister; Hespa tried to convince me she was his mistress, which made us both giggle because in those days we didn’t know what it meant. What I remembered now was her headdress — a concoction of cones and wings that flapped in the breeze and swathes of silk draped on both sides. Whoever she was, the woman stared straight ahead, not bothering to glance aside at the village. It would have been a waste of time, anyway, because she wouldn’t have seen much through all the fabric and frills. That was what my helmet was like. It meant Ossin and Tamlyn couldn’t see my face now that I was one of Tamlyn’s ‘men’, but with so little visible through the visor, I was as good as blind.
I didn’t dare take it off. Every face around me was familiar; these were the fathers, husbands, brothers and sons of Haywode and any one of them would recognise me in an instant. They might have guessed, anyway, that I was no man if everything hadn’t moved along so quickly after I joined them.
‘The northern army is breaking camp!’ came the call. ‘They’re heading for the field.’
‘You know the field they’re shouting about,’ Tamlyn called to his troop. ‘I took you there to see the ground we are to fight on. Now we’ll return with weapons at the ready.’
His
voice reverberated with confidence. Although I was unprepared, I found myself taking heart. Our leader knew what to do, at least.
‘Check you have what you need, then check again,’ he continued. ‘Take only what you’ll fight with.’ He paused a moment for each of us to comply, then cried out, ‘Forward, to the field.’
Without a glance behind to be sure we were following, he set off. I wanted to be close to him, but didn’t dare go too near in case he recognised Ryall’s clothing from earlier, in the half light of dawn. And there was always my smell.
As our company made its way through the camp, I saw others already on the move ahead of us. More were following behind. It was soon noticeable, though, that some men held back — not just one or two, but entire platoons. Thirty paces from where we passed, a captain screamed at his men to join the advance, yet they stayed stubbornly in place. When other companies saw this, their own pace slackened. Reluctance was written on every face.
Tamlyn saw this, just as I had done. He turned and, walking backwards so that we didn’t come to a halt, cried, ‘Don’t be fooled. Those laggards will be overrun before us. They have no stomach for the fight and the enemy will see it. They will send their best troops against the weak and the unwilling and cut them down as they run. Not the men from Haywode, though. They’ll see our steel in the way we stand ready, the way we march forward against them. When they see us coming, they’ll be staring at defeat.’
The men around me cheered and, without a thought, I joined in, forgetting to deepen my voice. Luckily, there was too much shouting for anyone to hear.
Soon after, I saw the field ahead, or as much of it as my helmet would allow. Almost there, we were called to a halt and Religo Norbett appeared before us on a grand horse — a better beast than he’d ridden into Haywode on my wedding day. His armour was made to match, each piece fitting him perfectly and gleaming in the morning sun.
‘Stand firm, men, and you will bring me victory,’ he bellowed. ‘Man your posts, obey every command that comes, and charge into battle when your captains give the word. Your reward will be the glory of this day — to boast about for the rest of your lives and to be remembered by generations to come.’
Lucien Page 23
