A Mighty Fortress (5 page)

And, so, yes—Baron Green Valley knew far more than the vast majority of his fellow subjects about Merlin Athrawes. But what he
didn’t
know—what Merlin devoutly hoped he didn’t even
suspect
— was how much more Merlin truly was.

I’d really like to get him added to the inner circle,
the
seijin
reflected,
and I knowCayleb and Sharleyan both agree with me, too. In fact, I think we
have
to get him added. It simply doesn’t make sense not to bring him all the way inside, and I don’t think we have to worry about any crises of religious conscience on
his
part
.

That last thought really did almost make him wince, given its direct bearing on the reason he was here.

“Their Majesties actually sent me for several reasons, My Lord,” he said. “One of them, in many ways probably the most important, was to let me evaluate your progress—yours and Duke Eastshare’s, I mean—firsthand. When I can actually ask questions, maybe even make a few suggestions in His Majesty’s name. It’s hard to do that if all you’re doing is watching a vision.”

“I can see where that would be true,” Green Valley agreed. He didn’t seem at all upset by the notion of Merlin’s “evaluating” his progress in his new assignment, the
seijin
noted.

“And the second reason, almost equally important,” Merlin admitted, “is to get me close enough to Eastshare to... interact with him.”

This time, Green Valley only nodded. Merlin wasn’t especially surprised—the baron had always been an astute and diplomatic fellow. He understood that, even with him, Merlin could scarcely come right out and say “They want me to see whether or not Eastshare is a traitor... too.”

The good news was that Merlin was almost certain Eastshare wasn’t. The bad news was that, despite all the
seijin
’s “unfair” advantages, Merlin was
only
almost certain he wasn’t. And, unfortunately, the fact that the duke was effectively Empress Sharleyan’s uncle by marriage, that he was the brother- in- law of the recently deceased Duke of Halbrook Hollow, and that he’d been Halbrook Hollow’s senior general, second in command of the Royal Chisholmian Army, for the better part of fifteen years, meant that “almost certain” wasn’t nearly good enough.

Not in the wake of Halbrook Hollow’s treason.

“May I ask what your impressions have been so far?” Green Valley asked politely. “In a general sense, of course. I wouldn’t want to ask you to get too specific about any particularly deserving ex- Marines—assuming there are any of those around, of course—and embarrass me with your effusive praise,” he added, and Merlin snorted.

“You know, My Lord,” the
seijin
said in an almost meditative tone, “I’ve always heard that a certain . . . brashness, one might say, is an integral part of any Marine’s personality. You wouldn’t happen to know how that rumor might have gotten started, would you?”

“Me?” Green Valley widened his eyes innocently. “I’m not a
Marine, Seijin
Merlin! I’m an officer in the Imperial Army. In fact, I’ve got a written commission around here somewhere to prove it. So what would a bluff, honest, naturally modest Army officer know about Marines and their overinflated self-images?”

“Oh, an excellent point,” Merlin agreed. “I can’t imagine what could have come over me to ask such a question.”

“I should certainly hope not,” Green Valley said a bit severely as he picked up the wine bottle and topped off Merlin’s cup once more.

“Well, at any rate, in answer to your question, my impressions so far have been just about universally good.” Merlin’s tone and expression had both turned serious once again. “To be honest, I hadn’t really realized quite how good the Chisholmian Army was. I should have, I suppose, given the role it played under King Sailys. Not to mention keeping Queen Sharleyan on the throne—and alive—after Sailys’ death, of course. I mean, two- thirds of its senior officers are veterans of Sailys’ campaigns, after all, and it’s obvious Eastshare—and Halbrook Hollow, for that matter—did an excellent job of training and equipping them in the first place.”

Green Valley nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful, and Merlin shrugged.

“Obviously,” he continued, “their equipment hasn’t been as good as what we took to Corisande with us—but, then, no one’s has, when you come down to it. And just as you’ve undoubtedly been discovering, their formations and drill are all oriented around tactics which have just become obsolete. But, again, they’re scarcely alone in that. Given the weapons available to everybody a few years ago, my impression is that Eastshare’s troops could at least hold their own against any of the mainland armies, man- for- man, and probably kick their arses for them, for that matter. Except for Siddarmark, of course.”

It was Green Valley’s turn to snort. The Republic of Siddarmark’s army was widely acknowledged—with good reason—as the most effective armed force in Safehold’s history. On land, at least. Siddarmark’s navy was virtually non ex is tent, and the Royal Charisian Navy had reigned supreme upon Safehold’s seas even before Merlin Athrawes’ arrival in Tellesberg. Anyplace a Siddarmarkian pike phalanx could find a place to stand, though,
it
reigned supreme. Which explained the Republic’s successful, sustained expansion southward towards the Desnairian Empire over the past hundred and fifty Safeholdian years or so. That expansion had been halted only when the Knights of the Temple Lands guaranteed the frontiers of the Grand Duchy of Silkiah, in the Treaty of Silk Town, in 869.

Silkiah was at least nominally in de pen dent, although its grand duke paid a substantial yearly tribute to Desnair. He also paid one to the Knights of the Temple Lands every year, although
that
one was called a “tithe” and, until very recently, had been paid by every Safeholdian ruler. Not officially to the “Knights of the Temple Lands,” of course, but that was only because the Knights of the Temple Lands all just happened to be members of the Church of God Awaiting’s Council of Vicars, as well. Their dual role as both secular and temporal rulers gave them a significant unfair advantage, yet it imposed certain disadvantages, as well. Especially now. The Knights of the Temple Lands had been nervous for a long, long time about that magnificent Siddarmarkian Army just on the other side of their shared frontier, and over the years, they’d used their power as princes of the Church to help discourage any adventurism on the part of a succession of the Republic’s lords protector. The Treaty of Silk Town might be the most flagrant example of their intervention, but it was scarcely the only one. That hadn’t exactly helped the Church’s relations with the Republic, although it had scarcely seemed likely to provoke an open breach, what ever some of the vicars might have thought, given the Church’s unassailable supremacy.

But now . . . now that the Church’s supremacy
had
been assailed, all of the anxieties which had been entertained by de cades of Church chancellors had just acquired an entirely new point. There was no real evidence of any general movement of Siddarmarkians to embrace the Church of Charis, yet that didn’t keep the Group of Four—the quartet of powerful vicars who truly ruled the Church—from worrying about what might yet happen.

I wish it
would
happen,
Merlin thought more than a bit wistfully,
but however much Stohnar resents the Church—or the Group of Four, at least—he’s not about to climb out on a limb with Charis. I don’t think it’s because he disagrees with Charis’ accusations of Church corruption or because he has any illusions about the “sanctity” of the Group of Four and their motivations. But he’s pragmatic as hell, and as well aware of the balance of power as anyone. In fact, he’s
better
aware of it than almost anyone
else.
Besides, from what I’ve seen, he doesn’t think any move to break with the Church would find general support in Siddarmark. And, for the moment at least, it looks like he’s right about that
.

“The thing that impresses me most about the Chisholmians, to be honest,” the
seijin
continued out loud, “is how readily and smoothly they seem to be adapting to the
new
tactics.”

He raised one eyebrow at Green Valley, inviting comment, and the baron nodded.

“You’re right about that,” he agreed. “It seems to me that their officers are grasping the reasons behind the new tactics even faster than
our
troops did. And they’re not just going through the motions in order to keep Their Majesties happy. For that matter, they’re not even just duplicating what we’ve got to teach them, either. Instead, they’re thinking about
why
we made the changes we’ve made and looking for ways to make what we’ve already accomplished even more effective.”

“That’s been my impression, too,” Merlin acknowledged.

“As a matter of fact, I haven’t seen a sign of what I was most worried about,” Green Valley said. Merlin’s eyebrow rose again, and the baron shrugged. “Charis has never had anything anyone in his right mind would call an ‘army,’ Merlin. We had a
navy
second to none, and nobody wanted to face our Marines at sea, but in terms of anything a land power would describe as an army, Charis wasn’t even on the map.

“Here in Chisholm, though,” he continued, sitting back in his chair, his expression intent, “the Army’s clearly the senior ser vice. It was the Army that broke the power of the great nobles and provided the stability here at home that let the Empress’ father—and her, in her turn, of course—build the Kingdom’s prosperity. King Sailys may have started building a navy as soon as he could, since Chisholm needed it to protect its commerce against Corisandian privateers, but it was only the prosperity created by the Army which let him do that. So while we Charisians have tended to lavish our admiration and pride—not to mention the dragon’s share of our wealth—on the Navy, it’s been the other way around in Chisholm.”

He shrugged again.

“Under those circumstances, what I was most afraid of was that the Chisholmians would automatically reject our advice about the new tactics. After all, what could a bunch of
Marines
know about the
real
conditions and requirements of fighting a war on
land?
In a lot of ways, that would only have been a reasonable question, too. For that matter, I imagine more than a few Charisian naval officers felt exactly that way where the Chisholmian
Navy
was concerned, when you come down to it. And the fact that it was our Marines who did all the actual fighting in Corisande—that their Army was completely left out, sitting here at home—could very well have fanned their resentment. Oh, they
said
they accepted the logistics arguments. That they understood we could only supply so many men across so many miles of ocean, which meant we couldn’t afford to take along anyone who wasn’t already equipped and trained with the new weapons. But I was afraid that, what ever they might have said, they would have resented being treated like some kind of farm team and left sitting in the dugout while the big- league players went off to war.

“As a matter of fact, that was what I
expected
to happen, and not just because of any petty concern about the Army’s ‘honor,’ either. You know as well as I do that prestige—and the ability to point to past accomplishments—plays a big role in how big a bud get an army or a navy can expect to see coming its way. This is a professional army, with a professional officers corps, Merlin. They have to have been worried that being left home while someone else did all the fighting was going to . . . adversely effect their career prospects, one might say. I’ve seen a distinct undertone of resentment out of quite a few
civilian
Chisholmian bureaucrats who seem to think Charis has gotten an unfair share of the power and advantages under the Empire, so I don’t think it would have been unreasonable for the Army to’ve felt that way.”

“I know.” Merlin nodded. “I’ve seen the same thing—from the bureaucrats, I mean—although, for some strange reason, they seem a bit more leery about showing their resentment around the Emperor or the Empress.”

“No, really? I wonder why that might be?” Green Valley mused with an innocent smile, and Merlin snorted.

“As I say, I really was concerned about the Army’s possible resentment over being ‘left out’ of the Corisande campaign,” Green Valley went on. “And I have seen a little bit of it, but not very much, thank Langhorne.”

“So they don’t seem to be upset about the sudden infusion of all the Marines, either?” Merlin asked.

He was watching Green Valley attentively. The baron had been chosen for his present assignment, despite his relative youth—he was still well short of forty—and painfully new elevation to the aristocracy, not simply because he was so good at his job, but because of the acuity of his insights. Now Green Valley gave the
seijin
a wry headshake, as if admonishing him for having asked a question to which they both so obviously already knew the answer.

“No, it hasn’t,” he said out loud. “Partly, I think that’s because of their professionalism. They’re more interested in learning how to do their jobs even better than in defending their reputation for how well they already do them. In that respect, they remind me a lot of our naval officers like Earl Lock Island and Baron Rock Point. They’re professionals first and prima donnas second, or even third.

“But, as I say, that’s only
part
of the reason.” Green Valley’s eyes were narrow now, his expression intent. “I think probably an even bigger reason is that, aside from its very uppermost ranks, such a huge percentage of the Army’s officers are commoners. One of the things I think most frustrates the great nobles who are so unhappy with the Emperor and the Empress is the way they’ve been shut out of any real positions of power in the Army. It would be stupid of them to be
surprised
by that, I suppose, since the whole reason King Sailys and Baron Green Mountain—and Halbrook Hollow, to give the man his due—created the Royal Army in the first place was to restore the Crown’s prerogatives at the expense of the nobility. After the amount of fighting that took, I don’t think it should astonish anyone that they decided against handing out generalships to any noblemen whose loyalty to the Crown they weren’t totally sure of. And the fact that lowborn soldiers could—and
have
— risen to high rank in the Army helps explain how enthusiastically the commons support it. Here in Chisholm, the Army holds exactly the same position—as far as the commons are concerned, at any rate—as the Navy does in Charis, and it’s young enough and professional enough to be genuinely flexible.” He shook his head. “I honestly never expected just how flexible it really is.”