Harald (17 page)

"And I say, love of my life, that treasures are safest guarded by high walls. You are my treasure; you stay."

"A lot of men those walls guarded are feeding worms just now."

"Henry is a careful man. He'll have the rest of the Eston levies to help him."

"I'm safer with you. More useful, too."

"Harald will be there to tell me when I'm being stupid. All that leaves is to remind me what I want to stay alive for. You can do that from here. Enough."

Harald, moving to the head of the forming column: "Talk to you like that, heart's delight, be walking."

But only the mare heard.

Three days later a scout brought word. A sizable body of cavalry flying the Westval oak tree, ahead and right. Harald brought the army to a stop. James came up beside him; Harald spoke.

"Any reason to think he wants you dead?"

The King shook his head, spoke to his captain. With banner carrier and twenty of his guard, he rode forward ahead of his army. The Westval contingent approached cautiously, stopped well out of arrowshot. The King rode towards the center of their line; the oak tree moved to meet him. After a very long half hour James came back, accompanied by the provincial lord and several of his men. Another half hour was spent explaining the situation before the combined force moved again south.

Two days later scouts came in with word of a force moving up the center of the plain, screened by nomads. Harald formed up his little army. Three provinces—seven hundred heavy cavalry—with two hundred of the King's guard and a hundred Eston crossbows, were the center. The Order force, grown to over three hundred, was the right, Harald's two hundred cats the left. They advanced behind a thin screen of cats and Ladies. A little past noon the opposing force came into sight. Harald positioned the crossbowmen and Ladies at the top of a low ridge, portable pavises for shelter, the cavalry a little down the slope, and waited.

Banners blew in the breeze—the three eastern provinces out in force, Estfen left, green hart on silver, Estmark's boar on the right. In the center, with Estvale, Andrew's bear, blue on gold, a body of heavy cavalry in foreign armor. Nomads a screen in front of the army, shooting at long range, falling back to their main body in the center.

Out of the Order forces on the right a single rider, straight for the Estfen banner. Steel cap off, hair streaming fire in the wind. Harald, riding at the center beside the King, drew a long breath.

"Good girl."

"Gods. Back at the castle. What is she . . ."

"Saving your neck. Her father's, too."

On the left, a rider out to meet Anne. The wind caught the King's banner, blew it out—he rode forward ahead of his guard, in plain sight, the banner beside him. At the opposing center, the bear banner surged forward, Andrew's mercenaries around it, the nomads ahead. Most of the rest of the center, the right, all of the left, held.

"Back, Majesty. They've seen you. That charge is for us."

The King wheeled, fell back into line with his guard. Harald was shooting steadily, aiming high for the charging mercenaries. A horse, hit by a nomad arrow at long range, went wild; the rider pulled it out of the line. The nomad force split left and right across the face of Harald's army shooting as they rode, opening a gap for the charging cavalry. Crossbows on the center, long bows on the right, shot back. On the left the cats, pivoting on the royal center, swung like a door to block the nomad column.

The King's captain swung down his arm, the royal standard dipped, the heavy cavalry moved forward, lances down. Faster. At a gallop the two masses of cavalry met, the King's longer line wrapping around the ends of the attackers.

From the front slope of the ridge Harald could see the whole battle spread out below. In the center, where the two charges met, a tangled mass of men, most still mounted, fighting hand to hand. On the left the nomads, outnumbered by the more heavily armored cats, had avoided them as best they could, turned right again, aiming for the fringe of the battle, their path marked by a trail of bodies. On the right, part of the nomad force had ridden around the end of the Order's line. The rest had turned back and were shooting into the melee from the far side, out of range of the archers on the ridge. Beyond the battle, more than a bowshot from where Harald watched, twelve hundred men, the massed levy of three provinces, sat their horses while riders hurried up and down the line.

Now they were moving. The nomads, caught between the charging line of heavy cavalry and the central battle, scattered for their lives. A small body of horsemen broke from the melee, joined the fleeing nomads. Most of the mercenary heavies, already outnumbered and locked in battle with the King's center, were less lucky.

Harald, having spent the final minutes of the battle shooting at the men around Andrew's banner, sheathed his bow. The surviving mercenaries were laying down their weapons. The surviving nomads—along with a few of the Order's horses driven off from behind their line—were almost out of sight. The King was no longer on his horse but still on his feet.

A group of riders were forcing their way towards the King through the tangle of dead men and horses where the eastern provinces, taking the mercenaries in the rear, had finished the battle. One was Anne; the shield beside her showed a green hart on silver. Her father. Harald took a careful look around the battle field, walked his horse down to join them.

The King was standing over the body of his captain. Harald, off his horse, spoke from out of sword reach.

"James. Let me take a look at him."

The King looked around, lowered his sword, stepped back. Harald kneeled by the captain, pulled a long strip of cloth from under the skirt of his war coat, bound up the worst of the wounds. When he finally looked up the King was holding Anne tightly, listening to her father.

"Andrew claimed you were dead, Harald and the Order burning and looting, northern provinces maybe trying for the crown. Thought we might as well come see. Nomads got me wondering. They had to get here somehow. Only two passes west. Harald owns one, the Emperor owns the other. I wondered about gold to pay them, too."

Harald spoke from his knees: "I think he'll live. Two men, stretcher, to get him out of here, blankets to keep him warm."

He turned to Estfen. "Westkin came over the low pass, south quietly in dribs and drabs. His Imperial Majesty provided the gold. Anyone found Andrew yet?"

Estfen shook his head. "He broke off at the end with his escort, left the banner behind. His House Guard too."

"Damn. Anyone found the Maril commander?"

One of Estfen's guards spoke.

"Big man over there tangled up with the bay; don't think he's alive."

Several of the mercenaries were gathered around the body. Harald spoke to them slowly.

"Maril. Hfi sac Kaerl, Tengu?"

One of them looked up. "Speak tongue. Some."

"Who is in charge of your people?"

That produced a quick conference in their own language. One of them, right arm bound tight to his body, armor splotched with blood, came forward. The other pointed at him.

"Helf top still alive. Think."

The injured man called out something. A minute later, another Maril limped over from beyond the tangle of bodies around Andrew's fallen banner.

"I speak your language."

Harald looked up from helping two of the guards get their captain onto a stretcher.

"Your Majesty, this is Janos son of Kanos. Helped us run the Imperials out of River province back when all of us were younger. Janos, His Majesty of Kaerlia. Henry's boy. Fellow you and your friends just did your best to kill."

Janos exchanged a few words with Helf, turned to the King, gave a low bow.

"Your Majesty, I and my fellows are your prisoners. The terms are yours to set."

James thought a moment.

"You have two choices. Go home, on foot, we keep everything but supplies to get you there, horses enough to carry the wounded that can't walk.

"Or take service with me. You get your horses, arms and armor back. When I think you've earned them, we can talk about pay."

Janos bowed again to the King, turned to his fellows. The discussion was too fast for Harald to follow any of it. When it ended, Janos turned back to James.

"Provision for our wounded?"

"Same as ours. Nearest villages that can feed them."

"I accept. For myself, all here. Your men."

He dropped clumsily to one knee, wincing. The King took his hands between his own. When they were done, Harald spoke.

"Let me look at that leg."

"Only fair."

As he spoke, Janos pulled the feather end of a broken shaft from his belt, held it out. Harald looked, nodded, set to work.

Stephen came over, accompanied by a man in blue and gold who bowed to the King, spoke.

"Your Majesty. What's left of your cousin's guard asked me to tell you we didn't know."

The King gave him a long look. The guard captain met it.

"Bandage your wounded, bury your dead. Swear to me. What's left of you are with my guard till this is over."

The King waited until the wounded had been dealt with before ordering his pavilion pitched. Harald, last to arrive, found the King on a camp stool, six provincial lords standing, Leonora sitting in a corner. He found a travel sack filled with something soft, sat down next to her. The King spoke.

"Excellencies, Lady Commander, my lord Harald. My cousin is defeated but not taken. Before we plan for the morrow, let us count today's losses." He looked around.

Estfen spoke first. "Half a dozen wounded, one badly. Maril were already engaged; we took them in the rear."

"One company missed my signals, joined the charge. Eight dead, twelve wounded." That was Estvale.

"Five went; lost three of them."

The King's center had suffered more—of nine hundred cavalry, some seven hundred still fit to ride. Order, crossbowmen, and cats, exchanging arrows with the nomads at long range, light losses. The Maril and Andrew's small guard had suffered most of all. Of four hundred heavy cavalry, a hundred and fifty without serious injury.

"Now what? Do we chase my cousin north and try to catch him or figure he's the Emperor's problem?"

Estfen spoke. "The first thing is to send riders to everyone who isn't here, tell them His Majesty is safe, at peace with Harald and the Order, Andrew an outlaw. How do we settle Wolves, Ladies, all that?"

"The Company of Royal Messengers is dissolved by my order. Any from my father's day are ordered back to my castle; I'll still need people to carry messages. The rest are dismissed. The Order is under the command of the Lady Commander. I owe her blood money for any Ladies killed by the Wolves. The fault is mine; I'll accept her count."

"What about land?"

The King looked puzzled.

"Wolves seized Order land, sold it."

"Any transfer not approved in writing by the Council is void. That's been law for two hundred years." That was Leonora.

"Be a lot of unhappy people down south."

The King shrugged. Nobody spoke.

A familiar voice outside the tent; the King looked up, startled.

"Would Your Majesty like to feed your guests?"

Anne came into the pavilion, followed by two men with trays, one with pitchers. Conversation stopped. She offered mugs of beer to the King's guests, starting with Harald and Leonora; the men filled plates and passed them. After a few minutes, James spoke again.

"Before we were so pleasantly interrupted, I was asking advice on dealing with Andrew."

There was a long silence; Estfen broke it.

"Do I understand, Your Majesty, that Andrew was receiving troops and gold from the Empire?"

The King nodded.

"Then it isn't my advice you want." Heads turned, another long pause. At last Harald spoke.

"Your Majesty told me why you trusted your cousin. Close to you, not in the immediate line of succession, better off with you alive."

The King nodded. "I still don't understand. He had four hundred heavies, guard and Maril together, two hundred nomads. Double that, he still couldn't have come close to taking me on. If I was dead he might have persuaded one or two lords to back him against young William, but not enough. Something is missing."

"Ambushed Westkin south of Borderflood, showed you what the warleader was carrying. Lots of gold. Scrolls. You read the open one. I read the other. Didn't say who it was for, but I think we can guess. Little less than two weeks, legions cross the river."

Harald stopped speaking; the tent was silent.

The next morning messengers went out, from the King to call out the provincial levy, from the Lady Commander to assemble the host. Westval, having fought the battle in his own province, took charge of distributing the wounded among his villages while the rest of his levy assembled. The others moved north in three columns—the levies of North and River under their lords, accompanied by a tatave of the Order, up the middle of the plain, the eastern levies, with a second tatave, up the western edge, and the rest of the army, with Harald and the King, along the eastern edge, as they had come.

A little past noon James found Harald riding beside him and took the opportunity for questions.

"Do you think he'll try to double back south?"

"Doubt it."

"So why spread out? Scout screen the width of the plains. Do you think the Imperials might come early?"

"Doubt it."

The King looked curiously at Harald.

"Imperials could come early. Andrew could turn south. Enemies don't always do what I expect. Friends neither.

"Three thousand horses eat a lot of grass. Spread out, move slow, more grazing, more grain left when we need it. More villages to buy food from, too.

"Some Ladies to talk with. Be back."

Harald pulled his mare out of line, watched the double column move past. Saw a familiar face, fell in beside.

Elaina looked up. "Mad at me again?"

Harald said nothing. Kara shook her head.