The Wolf At War

by Terry Cloutier

  “My lord!” the girl said with a surprised squeak.

  “Is the lady awake and decent?” I asked.

  The girl hesitated, looking uncertain.

  “Who is it, Hesther?” I heard Shana ask sleepily.

  The girl turned. “It’s Lord Hadrack, my lady.”

  “Well, don’t just stand there, gawking. Let him in.”

  Hesther colored, lowering her eyes as she swung the door open. For some reason, both girls were terrified of me, even though I had been nothing but polite and considerate towards them. I couldn’t understand why they feared me so.

  “Thank you, Hesther,” I said with a tired smile as I stepped inside.

  The room was cool, lit faintly by glowing embers from a small fireplace that sat along the eastern wall. Central hearths had originally heated the castle until Pernissy became the Lord of Corwick. The bastard had spent a lot of money to have fireplaces built into the lord’s and lady’s chambers, as well as both halls. The additions had been a good move on Pernissy’s part, and the castle was infinitely warmer because of his foresight. It was the only thing the man had ever done that I agreed with, much as I hated to admit it.

  The other girl, Hamber, scurried out from a bundle of thick furs that lay on the floor at the foot of my wife’s bed. She and her sister lit several candles and then waited against the back wall, both staring nervously at their feet. The girls were dressed in light shifts and had linen veils wrapped around their heads, each tied with a bow. Shana was sitting up in bed, her long black hair pinned and tucked under a silk headdress accented with gold edging.

  I glanced at the two girls. “Please leave us,” I said. “You can sleep in the Lesser Hall for the rest of the night.”

  “Yes, my lord,” both girls said at once.

  They curtsied, then turned and hurried from the room as I took off my cloak and tossed it across a chair. I had sent most of my armor up to the castle by packhorse after the battle, and I started to struggle with my mail coat.

  “So, my lord,” Shana said as she came to help me. “I understand your plans were a success and that the Pith threat is over.”

  I sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. “If only that were true,” I said bleakly.

  Shana paused, and I could see sudden worry creasing her face. “I don’t understand. Did some get away?”

  I shook my head. “No, we killed them all,” I answered. “All but one, that is. I let that one live. I’m sending him home in the morning with the bodies of his brothers and sisters.”

  “As a peace offering so that they can Ascend,” Shana said, nodding her head thoughtfully. “That’s very smart, my lord.”

  I smiled, taking her hand in mine and squeezing it. I was always surprised at how quickly Shana understood things, though I probably shouldn’t have been. My wife was not only a compassionate and caring woman, but a highly intelligent one as well. Shana paused, her face suddenly tense as she leaned over and clutched at her belly.

  I stood up in alarm. “Is everything all right?”

  Shana nodded, her eyes closed. “I’m fine, lord.” She straightened carefully, forcing a smile. “It’s just the baby letting me know that he’s not happy we are awake.”

  I put my hand on Shana’s belly, marveling at the slight roundness of her flesh beneath my hand. I knew somewhere inside that roundness my child grew, gaining strength by the day. It was a humbling realization. “Let’s get you back into bed,” I finally said, guiding Shana around the bed and helping her under the covers. I stroked her cheek as she looked up at me. “I’m going to go now so that you can rest. We can talk again in the morning.”

  “No, my lord, please stay,” Shana said. “Tell me what’s going on. I know something is wrong.”

  “Are you sure you are all right?” I asked, reluctant to leave despite my words.

  Shana smiled and tapped the bed beside her. “Of course, my lord. There’s nothing to worry about. Now sit and tell me what is happening.”

  I did as she asked, holding her hand as I told her about the battle, the capture of Saldor, and then what I had managed to learn about the Piths’ plans. Shana listened attentively, asking pointed, well-thought-out questions until finally, I finished. We sat in silence for a time, both of us content to just be together as we thought about what the next few days and months might bring.

  “What will you do now?” Shana finally asked as she rubbed her belly beneath the bedclothes.

  I shrugged. “Prepare for war, of course. What else is there?”

  “Can Ganderland withstand that many Piths?”

  “Saldor wasn’t serious about that,” I said.

  “But what if he was? Can we defeat them?”

  I breathed out loudly. “I honestly don’t know, Shana. We have barely recovered from the Pair War, with thousands of dead on both sides. Many of the southern and northern lords don’t trust each other, and our king is young and untested. If ever there was a good time for the Piths to attack, this would be it. All I can do is wait to hear back from the king and prepare as best I can.” I chose not to tell my wife that she would be on her way to Calban in the morning, knowing I’d have an argument on my hands when I did. With a possible Pith invasion only days or weeks away, I wanted my wife and unborn child as far from it as possible.

  “What about Einhard and Alesia?” Shana asked. “Can’t you go see them and ask for a truce? Surely they will listen to you.”

  I frowned. “They think that I betrayed them.”

  Shana snorted. “Einhard knows you better than that, my lord.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe, but even if I convince him of what really happened, I’m not sure he can do anything to stop this, even if he wanted to. It sounds to me like this Lorgen Three-Fingers has plans of his own that don’t include Einhard and Alesia.”

  “Oh,” Shana said, the hope in her eyes dying. “What about the priests and priestesses, my lord? Why did the Piths take them?”

  I rubbed at my itchy eyes, then dropped my hand wearily into my lap. “I don’t know for certain, and I hope I’m wrong, but I think they might be going to sacrifice them to the Master.”

  Shana gasped. “You can’t be serious.”

  I stood, wobbling on my feet in exhaustion. “I’m going to let you sleep now. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

  “Hadrack,” Shana said, holding her hand out to me. “Stay with me tonight, please. I don’t want to be alone.”

  “I can bring Hesther and Hamber back,” I said, hovering uncertainly above the bed.

  “No,” Shana said, shaking her head. “I want you.”

  I looked down at myself. “But I’m covered in filth and blood.”

  “I don’t care, my lord,” Shana said, drawing me down onto the bed. “Just stay tonight and hold me. That’s all I ask.”

  How could I say no?

  8: The Trial

  Shana wasn’t happy about leaving Corwick, just as I had predicted, and the argument between us the next morning turned out to be loud and drawn-out. It was our first heated disagreement since our marriage, and Hamber and Hesther sat through it all, looking like a pair of frightened puppies after a beating while we shouted back and forth at each other. In the end, common sense prevailed, and Shana agreed to leave—though not before she had made me promise not to do anything stupid and get myself killed. It was a promise that I made easily, though I knew I might not be able to hold up my end of the bargain.

  “That’s the lot of them, my lord,” Wiflem said, coming to stand beside me on the southern parapet.

  A line of covered wagons moved through the gates below me, rolling over the drawbridge and onto the road that curved northward. I knew Shana was in the lead wagon, accompanied by her young court ladies. The rest of the wagons were filled with priests and priestesses from Camwick and the other villages, including Daughter Tessa and Daughter Verica. Brown-robed boys and girls in grey marched behind the wagons, followed by ten armed men on horseback led by Putt. All the riders were exper
ienced fighters and were men that I could ill afford to lose right now, yet I’d had no choice but to send them. To leave those wagons defended only by farm boys with Piths about was unthinkable.

  “And the messengers?” I asked, focusing on my captain. I had decided to withdraw all the priests and priestesses from Corwick, sending them north far from the raiding Piths. If Lorgen Three-Fingers’ men really were targeting the Sons and Daughters as I suspected, then I wanted them as far away as possible. I’d also sent messengers to the garrisons guarding the border and all the southern lords, alerting them to what had happened in Corwick and explaining my suspicions about the priests and priestesses. I wasn’t sure what the reaction to those warnings might be, but either way, I wasn’t counting on any help arriving from any of them.

  “They were all gone at first light, my lord,” Wiflem replied.

  “But will anybody listen?” I wondered out loud.

  “Why wouldn’t they, my lord?”

  I sighed. “Because most are stubborn, arrogant men, Wiflem,” I said. “Men used to power and authority who have little if any love for a commoner like me.”

  “They just need to get to know you better, my lord,” Wiflem said with a tight smile.

  I laughed. “Indeed,” I agreed. I glanced up at the midday sun as a large cloud slid across its face, casting us in shadows. More clouds were rolling in from the south. “You’ve armed the villages?”

  “Yes, my lord,” Wiflem nodded. “As best we could. Mainly spears and clubs, but it will be better than nothing.”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” I muttered. I noticed a small man dressed in a faded brown tunic waiting uncomfortably near the wooden stairs that led down into the bailey. “Is that him?” I grunted.

  “It is, my lord. His name is Gerdy.”

  “Did you tell him what I need?”

  “I did not, my lord,” Wiflem replied. “I thought it best that he hear it from you.”

  “Very well,” I grunted as I strode toward the little man. “Good day to you, Gerdy,” I said, pausing in front of him.

  “My lord,” Gerdy responded, staring up at me nervously as he played with his hands. I noticed those hands looked strong for such a small man, with thick, hairy wrists.

  “You are a master bowyer, I understand?”

  “I am, my lord,” Gerdy said. He shifted on his feet and looked at the ground. “Been so for almost ten years now. I was apprenticed to Master Wadley, and when a fever took him, his wife sold the business to me.”

  “And how is business these days, Gerdy?”

  The little man grinned. “It has been quite good lately, my lord. Much better since you came to Corwick.”

  “I am pleased to hear that,” I said. All merchants in the kingdom paid a tax to their lord, which in most cases was thirty percent. But Pernissy, in his never-ending greed, had levied a crushing fifty percent on all goods produced and sold in Camwick, which had done nothing in my view but help to stifle business. I had reduced the taxation to twenty-five, and the town was now not only expanding, but booming. I found it hugely amusing that my coffers were pulling in far more now at twenty-five percent than Pernissy’s ever had at fifty, simply because of the rise in commerce.

  “Will you be needing more bows, my lord?” Gerdy asked. “I’m contracted to provide forty per year to the castle right now, but I can certainly look into increasing that if you wish.”

  “I’ll need a hundred,” I said bluntly.

  Gerdy gaped at me. “A hundred, my lord?”

  “At least that, for now at any rate,” I said. “How long will it take you?”

  Gerdy blinked rapidly, clearly thinking. “Perhaps a month, maybe more, my lord. I have enough dried bowstaves to cover the order, but I will need to speak with Farben and see what his schedule is like before I can give you a firm date.”

  “And who is Farben?” I asked.

  “The stringer, my lord.”

  “I’ll need the bows in a week,” I said.

  Gerdy’s eyes went round in surprise. “A week, my lord?” He mopped at his brow with the sleeve of his tunic. “I…I don’t know, my lord. I suppose it could be done, but I would need to hire other tradesmen to do the dressing and horning, as well as the smoothing and sealing of the bows for me. I normally do everything with my apprentice, but we couldn’t possibly have a hundred ready in a week.” He looked at me with warning in his eyes. “An order of this magnitude in such a short time will be very expensive, my lord.”

  I waved off his words. “We are on the verge of war, Gerdy. Now is not the time to worry about costs.”

  “War, my lord? I thought the Pith threat was over?”

  “You thought wrong,” I grunted. “Can you guarantee delivery of the bows in a week with the extra help?”

  Gerdy paused, then he nodded firmly. “I can, my lord. As long as you understand the costs and the complexity involved, then I will be happy to service the order.”

  “Good,” I said. “These bowstaves of yours. The dry ones. How long are they?”

  “Long, my lord?” Gerdy tipped back his felt hat and scratched his bald head. “It varies, but I usually cut them around seven feet tall and perhaps a foot wide. May I ask why, my lord?”

  “You have heard of the Cardian longbow, I take it?”

  Gerdy looked surprised. “I have heard mention of them, yes my lord.”

  “Could you make similar bows?”

  Gerdy pursed his lips. “Undoubtedly, my lord, but I wouldn’t recommend it.”

  I frowned. “Why not?”

  “The draw on a bow of that size will be twice the normal draw, my lord. Most men couldn’t pull it even halfway.”

  “Are you saying that Cardians are stronger than Gandermen?” I challenged.

  Gerdy shook his head. “No, of course not, my lord. But Cardian archers have been trained their entire lives to pull those bows. The muscles in their backs, arms, and shoulders will have developed to handle the draw. Men unused to that weight would struggle greatly, my lord, and would undoubtedly miss more than they hit.”

  “Well, this is unexpected,” I muttered to Wiflem. I turned back to Gerdy. “What’s the draw weight on a Pith bow?”

  Gerdy looked up at the cloudy sky, thinking. “Horsebows are usually no more than sixty pounds, my lord,” he said after a moment. “They are designed for quickness and rapid shooting, not distance. Most Pith archers are women, and they’re not as strong as men, so it’s possible the draw might be even less than that.” The little man nodded, coming to a decision. “More like a fifty-pound draw on a Pith bow would be my guess, my lord.”

  “And the longbows of the Cardians?”

  “I’m not sure, my lord,” Gerdy said. “I’ve never seen one, but I would say at least double that.”

  “Well, I’ve seen plenty,” I said. “And the arrows from those bows went at least fifty yards farther than the best Pith arrow could.” I put my hand on Gerdy’s shoulder and squeezed. “Nobody can shoot like Piths. That’s undisputed. But if I can keep my archers out of range of their arrows, yet still be able to strike within their ranks, then we might stand a chance. I need you to give us that chance.”

  Gerdy looked up at me and I could see a gleam of interest in his eyes. I could tell this was a man who lived for his craft as well as a challenge.

  “I’ll make your longbows for you, my lord,” Gerdy said with determination. “They might not be as formidable as the Cardian ones, but they will be close.”

  I patted the little man on the shoulder and grinned. “That’s all I can ask for.”

  One week later, I stood watching as Baine and Tyris each held one of the new longbows, both men examining them with little enthusiasm. Tyris was a tall man, and his bow was almost the same height as he was, while Baine’s bow towered over his head.

  “You can’t be serious about this,” Baine said, turning to look back at me. “How do you expect me to use this thing?”

  I shrugged my shoulders with my
arms crossed over my chest. We stood on the high grassy plains north of the castle, with straw targets sitting at a hundred yards, then fifty yards farther, then another fifty yards beyond that. Every able-bodied man in my fiefdom between the ages of fifteen and fifty was gathered behind me, watching. “What’s the matter? Are you afraid of being embarrassed?” I asked Baine with a chuckle.

  “Damn right, I am,” my friend grumbled. He plucked at the bowstring, testing it. “What is this, flax? I prefer hemp strings.”

  Tyris nodded his agreement. “Hemp is stronger, my lord.”

  “Can we get on with this?” I grunted, trying not to show my nervousness. I knew both Tyris and Baine were perfectionists when it came to their craft, but I didn’t have the time nor the patience for an argument right now.

  Baine nodded reluctantly and he took a step forward, studying the first target. I’d had five hundred arrows made, each one long enough to fit the new bows, with hundreds more being made day and night in Camwick. Baine drew one of those arrows from his sheath, nocked it, then carefully lifted his bow and pulled back the string. My friend’s left arm began to shake before the nock was even a quarter of the way to his ear, then his right started to shake as well when he made it halfway. Finally, with a grunt of disappointment, Baine let fly. The arrow traveled less than fifty yards before arcing downward into the tall grasses and disappearing. I heard snickers and laughter coming from the crowd and I turned and looked back.

  “Silence!” I shouted. I glared at the suddenly anxious faces. “Do you think you can do any better?” Nobody answered me. “That’s what I thought,” I said with a snort as I motioned to Tyris. “Go ahead. Let’s see what you can do.”

  Tyris strode forward purposefully as Baine moved back, a flush of shame evident on his face. I felt bad for my friend, but I’d needed to know where we stood with the bows, and he and Tyris were the best archers in Corwick. If they couldn’t use them effectively, then I knew I had probably just wasted a lot of money and a week of Gerdy’s time.