by P. S. Power
“There’s a point there. I’ll chaperone, if that isn’t too unwelcome, Anders?” The words had Fola looking like someone had stuffed a whole chicken up her skirts.
Anders simply nodded.
“That would be fine, of course. This won’t take too long. It’s just a bit of magic that’s needed. Here, I need to pull the nuts off the heat.”
Once that was finished, using a stick to clear the top of the pan, and a heavy cloth to turn them onto, so they wouldn’t continue to roast, he moved off with the woman and Sir Daniel walking behind them, about ten feet away. The lady didn’t say anything, until they were at her camp, seeming flustered.
“I’m really not attempting to do anything untoward with the boy.”
Sir Daniel nodded at her.
“Of course you aren’t. Still, Mary back there was getting ready to scratch your eyes out, if you were. I think she’s taken a liking to Anders, to tell the truth. I figured that me walking along would be better than hostilities breaking out.” He shrugged then and smiled. “A woman could do worse. Andy might be young, but he’s capable and sturdy.”
It took a few moments to realize that the fellow was actually talking him up, as a prospective husband. That or someone to spend the night with.
As they settled, Anders simply explained, his voice going low.
“This is Captain Horner’s wife. The man we can contact at the front? We’re sending a message to him, if he’s available for it. I can check on that and then send the message along. It shouldn’t take long, once I know what it is.”
That portion wasn’t entirely true, since the two page letter, going over the travel, their expected time of arrival, the other conditions and that they’d been removing bandits and hostiles on the road, was lengthy. It also had several endearments that would, no doubt, shock the Captain to hear in a manly voice.
Still, he encoded the needed spell for it over the course of half an hour, and checked to make certain the man was awake and not being besieged or in a fight at the moment.
Then, taking nearly ten minutes to speak the whole thing out, since it had to be broken down phonetically, he sent it off. With only two repetitions, since it was so much longer than a normal message. He started it with an explanation that it was a message from Fola Horner. When he was finished, he had to wait for a bit, some moments, before Captain Horner truly had the message down.
He was pleased enough with it, as it turned out. A bit concerned for his wife, being on the road like she was but he trusted that she’d be safe, traveling with Master Brolly. In his thoughts, they were closer than being in the same caravan with hundreds of others, for some reason. Even if that had been mentioned, plainly, by the lady. The man didn’t seem jealous, though he did wonder if his wife was going to be used by the boy, in a way that Anders found a bit annoying.
Standing, he bowed toward the woman, which had Sir Daniel on his feet at the same time.
“He has the message and understands it. I should get back to roasting those nuts. It’s nearly time for the first watch, too.” He didn’t scurry away, not having enough energy left for that, really. Part of him just wanted to go to sleep, but there was too much to do for that kind of thing.
He still had to do his bow training exercises for the night.
Those weren’t fun, or interesting, but he truly was getting stronger, over time. Mary and Betha were still by their fire, working on processing the food for the next day, using a bit of salt on the nuts, so that they’d be more flavorful. Betha had worked up a small mesh of sticks, and was smoking some of them as well, which was a good idea, if not a thing that he’d have thought of himself. On seeing all of that, he simply sat, feeling as if his very bones were aching.
The woman in the red skirt glared at him a bit, then did the same with Sir Daniel.
“So, is your virtue still intact, Andy? That one has a reputation. Steals more business from us honest whores than I like to admit, she does. She’s married, too, I heard. Hardly proper, is it?” There was a sniff then, a judgmental thing that made Anders tilt his head to the side.
“She was fine. I know her husband and she needed some small work done. That’s all.”
There was a second sniff then and a hoity look that he didn’t normally associate with Mary. Betha nodded though, and looked away, as if it made any sense at all for them to be judging the woman for her habits.
“That’s a likely tale, isn’t it? She lures you in with some simple tasks, then after a while, she’s thankful and offers to warm your bed, lacking coin to properly pay you... I’ve seen that kind before. Best watch yourself there, Andy. Not all that do that sort of thing are as honest as Betha and I are.”
The words seemed meant, even if he was having trouble putting together what the woman was getting at. He wondered if it was about the competition or that the other woman did such things for free, which lowered the going rate for others.
Betha finally shook her head.
“No married woman had call to do such things. She should be at home with her children, not leaving them with relatives and traipsing around like this.”
He shook his head, but didn’t comment on what they were doing and saying. They, no doubt, had their reasons for it, even if Anders didn’t have the context to understand what they were going on about. After a bit, he simply nodded at the women.
“We should get the nuts finished in the next batch. Then I... Well, I need to do some things.”
It felt like it was always something, any longer. Which was probably about correct, for a young man seeking to make his way in the world.
Chapter ten
By the time they were at the rearward camp, where the woman and children would be staying, about five miles away from the front lines, Anders kind of hated the idea of magic. It wasn’t that he’d slacked off on his studies of it, or that anyone had pestered him too much for special favors or aid, even. It was simply that his own plans, hunting and making clothing for some people who needed it, had been met with a soupy and thick mud that had made travel nearly impossible.
Rather than let that happen, Anders had moved his wagon to the front of the line, much to the Caravan Masters annoyance at first, then spent most of his time during the day casting spells on the road, to dry it out and smooth it, long enough to allow them to pass. It had still been slow going, with the whole line traveling at about half speed the entire time.
It also meant that he’d spent weeks gasping the whole time and struggling to rise in the morning so that he could get some food in for people. Even with the others taking all the cooking duties for him, with Mary and Betha doing a lot of that work, Anders was barely able to eat enough. The food was there, but a combination of feeling constantly ill, along with being unable to eat all that was required wore at him. In the few weeks they were on the road, he’d visibly lost weight. He’d started out being somewhat slender, and ended the trip raw and underfed seeming.
Even as he ate, nearly constantly.
There was a soft cheer, when they finally entered the encampment. Oh, it was a mud pit as well as the roads had been, but Anders wasn’t responsible for that portion of things at all. From one wagon behind him, as a gentle rain fell, the Caravan Master called out.
“Circle left! Circle left!”
Anders did it, since he was still in the front of the line. A thing which meant doing even more work, even if he shouldn’t have had to. The ground in front of them wasn’t as bad as the road, but if they didn’t want the end wagons being sunk to their axles, he needed to dry the area. That was huge, of course. The worst part of his days had become stopping for the evening. When he had to push to dry out a huge seeming field each time. He did it, hoping it would be the last such event for him, at least for a few days.
That wasn’t going to work, of course. It was actively raining, after all. He still had to visit each of the foreward camps, in his own person, which would mean taking the wagon with him, since he had things to deliver. After casting spells for l
onger than it felt like it should have taken, most of the wagons simply stopped. They were there to make deliveries to the front, but the Army would come and get the goods, rather than force the wagoneers to close with danger too directly.
Something interesting happened, as Anders finally sighed and let the spells go. He was wet, both from exertion and the rain, but had managed to keep himself and his gear clean enough, over the last days. Some of the knights and squires had been stinted that way a bit, but Sir Rob and Squire Ery were both tidy enough when they rode up to him. They’d both taken to staying closer to the back of the line the whole time, well away from him.
He would have taken it personally, but Erold actually smiled at him as they approached.
“The magic is done for now? I had to hide away for days, since you were working so hard. It made me feel bad, watching it happen. Not that I’m going to complain about not having to ride in hip deep muck the whole way.”
The Caravan Master snorted then and glanced at Anders as if impressed with something.
“No, you won’t. None who have ever done it will, neither. That was a fine bit of magic you did there, boy.” Then the man turned to the others who were coming to the front. There were thirty military men, in red and leather, who were pretending not to be miserable in the rain and damp. The knights and squires all moved to the same general area, with Sir Humphrey taking the lead there. A few of the wagon folk did the same. None of them were women, of course. After all, they were already at their destination. Their men, or the soldiers who wished their services, would have to come to them, from that point on.
The head knight waved at all of his people.
“We need to report in, to each of the generals. Brolly, you have the roads for us?” The words were bland, but he nodded, even if his secret heart sort of wanted to curse the man for the suggestion. It was just too good of a trick not to use.
“Yes. I need to eat again, first.” He could have added more, but everyone got that the work wasn’t precisely easy or simple for him. No one had begrudged him having extra food, either. A few had looked at him strangely over it, but in the main he thought they understood the basic idea. The more he did, the more he had to eat, if he didn’t want to fail, in the future.
The knight simply nodded at him at the words.
“Do that now, then. Prince Erold, would you help with that?”
Ery simply rode to the food cart, which was full of frozen meat, but also had some cooked in it. They’d been keeping the cheese and flour for later, for the last week or so, since it was considered almost impossible to hunt or fish where the army was holding up. The men would either scare everything away or eat it, in the first months they were there. It was why there was another caravan a week behind them, and would be, until the snow made it impossible for them to get through any longer. Then the men would be on iron rations until spring came.
Most of the people around them looked at Erold as if it were rare or impressive to be a Prince. There was some bowing, even as the boy quickly got some of the cooked meat from the night before out of the back of the medium cart, along with some already cooked roots. Those were plump and sweet, if a bit odd in flavor. Not bad, simply a little musky at the edges. Still, they were edible and he was the one that had collected them up, so when a cloth came at him from his friend, filled with enough food to choke him, even after all his recent practice in eating, he tucked into them first.
The Caravan Master regarded the youngest Prince a bit coolly.
“I wasn’t made aware that we had such an esteemed person with us.” He sounded a little bitter over that idea. As if it would have been easier to travel with a fancy noble than one who was willing to pull his own weight.
Sir Daniel laughed a bit at the idea. It got everyone to turn to look at the man, as he sat comfortably on his horse. His cloak was sopping wet, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“He didn’t even bring an attendant, if you can believe that. Neither did Prince Robarts. Trust me, this is the easiest time I’ve ever had traveling with a Prince!”
Robarts choked a bit on that, snorting in a fashion that seemed less than dignified.
“I wager that’s a simple truth. Now, we should see to delivering Master Brolly to the first general. You’ll need some weeks there, in each camp, Anders?” He seemed willing enough to let that take place, but Anders shook his head.
“Less than that, possibly. It depends on how quickly I can learn what I need to.” He stopped eating in order to speak, then started again without hesitation, since they were all waiting on him, for the time being.
The Heir looked at him and nodded, understanding things without being told.
“We should take the time to tidy ourselves then, so we can leave a good impression. I don’t suppose that the mail and perhaps gambeson could be altered in color? We look a bit poor at the moment. Which was the plan, but...”
Anders chuckled a little, bouncing in place on the wagon seat. He didn’t mean it, which was clear to everyone there. He whined a bit then, not meaning to.
“I’m so tired...” He was, but he didn’t expect anyone to really understand how trying the last days had been at all. After a second he rallied though and shook his head. “Still, I can rest in a bit. Let me finish this and then I’ll see to that portion of things for us all.”
It took a while, since he had to do all of the mail and gambeson separately. Then, when they rode out, he used as much energy to smooth the rutted mud pit that they were calling a road as driving the water from the soil. That wouldn’t keep it from getting damp again, probably inside the hour. It let him ride on top of the ground though, instead of inside of it. That meant they traveled oxen fast, so were able to reach the first of the three front camps in about two hours. It was just past mid-day when that took place.
They got stares, since they were all in matching scarlet with shining silver mail over it. They were clean, as well, and even smelled nice, or at least as if they’d bathed regularly, which wasn’t the truth. He’d pushed himself, making certain each of the men with him would be well represented. It was probably a waste of his energy, but once he’d done it for the Princes, he felt obligated to make certain everyone else had the same chance.
That meant they looked good, when the twelve knights, their squires and then a sturdy, well filled wagon and a food filled cart pulled into the camp. There were guards at the front of it, who called to Anders to stop.
“Halt.” The man doing the work was in a filthy uniform, with mud spattered leggings and a brown cloak that looked almost ready to fall off of him, it was so threadbare. Next to him the man was wrapped in a wet gray blanket.
Both of them looked at the knights behind him, then at the road, which was actually a road again, instead of what it had been a few moments before.
The men stood there for a bit, with the one who had spoken, who was a sergeant, from the markings on his chest, being three lines next to each other, finally looked at Anders, then nodded, slowly.
“May I have your name, sir?” He wasn’t mocking about the use of the title, even if it had to be clear that the boy in the wagon wouldn’t be a knight.
“I’m Anders Brolly. I have some deliveries for General Coelder, from various people. Some letters and a few gifts for the men here, as well. Behind me we have Prince Robarts, his brother, Prince Erold, Sir Humphrey...” He shrugged, since the man clearly wasn’t paying attention any longer, his mouth hanging open.
After a moment of silence, the men both bowed, doing it roughly, aiming toward the mounted royalty. They didn’t stand for a long time, but when they did, Anders smiled at the two men.
“So... Are we allowed in?” They might not be, of course. They could be Yansian spies or an attack group, using a trick to gain access to the camp.
The two men both nodded, in unison.
“You can. The wagon and cart, well, I don’t think you can get those in. It’s all mud, in here. Sir Brolly.” The man seemed hesitant at the use of the titl
e, but as if he wasn’t planning to not use such a thing, if he could help it.
Anders just nodded.
“I’ll fix that. Which way do we need to go?”
The man in the gray blanket pointed toward the center of the tent village.
“Down the main way here. About an eighth of a mile, so it isn’t far. The big tent. There are three of them there, with the flags on em, so you won’t be missing em.” He was a bit younger, and needed to shave. That or grow his beard all the way out.
They all needed to do that, including the heir. Even Erold had fuzz on his chin that could have been cleared away with a good razor. Of all of them, only Anders was free of such a thing, at the moment.
Nodding, he started in on fixing the mud in front of him, then working out where the water needed to go. Downhill, outside of the camp, was the obvious plan, if he didn’t want to simply flood someone’s tent as they moved. It was easier on the road, since he could simply move the water over about ten paces, as they moved. This time he had to make a small stream, hardening the sides of it and making certain that it wouldn’t be in anyone’s way too much. It felt like it took forever, but none of the soldiers tried to stop him from doing it.
Probably due to the fact that, as soon as they had real drainage, the whole camp started to firm up, even in the places where he hadn’t driven the water away. By the time he got to the big tents though, he was nearly blacking out from the exertion. The weight of the water was in the tons, and at every moment, new water flooded into the area, as soon as it was dry again. They needed to see to real drainage, he decided. It was a thing he could try doing, if he had any free time in the coming days.
He dropped all of the magic, as Sir Humphrey called out.
“Hail! General Coelder, we have visitors from King Mathias and some deliveries for you!” The tone was cheery enough that the thin, gray haired but fit seeming man came out with a smile on his lips.
Then, taking in who was there, he bowed.
