Hearts in Cups (47 page)

"Advance scouts report
enemy troops ahead at the pass into the mountains," his adjutant's voice
buzzed in his ear.

"How large a party
is it?"

"Less than one
would expect to guard such a vital route," his man returned with a smile.
"It appears that most of Langstraad's forces have gone north or south and
few are left to guard their eastern front."

"Very well; inform
my commanders to ready their troops and prepare to meet the enemy
head-on," Blaise ordered.

The army drew up into
formation and began the assault to gain the pass that would take them to
Langstraad's heart, Castle Lir. The troops they faced did not retreat as
quickly as it was assumed they would. Instead, they held their positions and
only grudgingly gave up their ground. From his vantage point, closely surrounded
by his personal guard, Blaise watched with interest the commencement of his
first battle. They had only pushed a half-mile up the pass before darkness
overcame them and halted the fighting.

"At this rate it
will take at least a week before we see the castle walls," Blaise remarked
sourly to his commanders, when meeting with them later that evening to discuss
the next day's strategy.

Several of the men
looked uncomfortable, but only one was bold enough to speak up. "It is difficult
to fight on this terrain. The men we are fighting have the advantage over
us."

"And what is their
advantage?" The duke's question had a peevish edge to it. "I was told
this afternoon that the enemy were few in number and that the pass was not well
guarded."

Another man rose to
give the reply. Thick of limb with a round head and barrel chest, Blaise knew
him as the Baron de Reunne, a military man of sound sense and less imagination
than his own father, the late duke. "Their advantage is that they are
fighting on home ground. Those who fight on their own land always fight a
little more fiercely. There are also more of them fighting than we originally
reckoned. I think that the bulk of their troops were behind those that we first
engaged at the mouth of the pass. I am also willing to bet that the majority of
those we are fighting are mountain men of Langstraad. Fighting in the mountains
is different than fighting in the open and most of our troops are lowlanders
from the fen country of Tuenth."

"Does this mean
that we are going to take a week to make a three day journey?" Blaise
tapped his boot with a stick irritably.

Baron de Reunne was not
easily cowed, especially by a youth so plainly wet behind the ears. Disturbed
by the recent upheaval within the House to whom he owed his allegiance,
nonetheless he had come forward and pledged willingly to this third son of Lord
Gunnar's despite the irregularity of his assumption of power or his immediate
embroilment in a civil war. "It may take us longer, depending on the
terrain and weather," Blaise was bluntly informed.

Carefully examining the
toe of his gleaming boot, Blaise asked his next question in a voice heavy with
speculation. "Are the troops before us spread out or are they fighting
close together in the pass itself?"

"So far in small
groups, attacking and shifting their position. It's one of the reasons that our
progress has been so slow." The young commander who had first spoken
replied.

"Does anyone know
if there is a place in this damnable pass where the enemy will be forced by the
terrain to close ranks?"

"There is a
narrowing about a mile further on, with steep hills and dense forest to either
side. They will probably avoid the forest and retire through this section
altogether, fanning out again once through it. In fact, it will be an excellent
place for them to hold up our advance," the young man ventured.

"Very well
then," Blaise said making up his mind. "Push the enemy to that point
and hold your position. I have a small trap to lay for them." In his eyes
bright points of light kindled with amusement. "Be prepared to send our
troops forward to prevent the escape of any who do not fall into my trap."

Questions began to be
raised, but Blaise silenced them with a curt order and sent the men out of his tent.
He needed time to do a little thinking and planning. Mystified and irritated,
the commanders of Tuenth’s army filed out, leaving Blaise alone to prepare for
the test he had set for himself. In the dark of the tent, Blaise settled
himself, reaching for the calm state of arcane trance that would help him tap
into his power. Briefly Rashara's face rose in his mind, tormenting him with
longing, but he forced the image out and concentrated only on unlocking his own
mind.

The picture from atop
the walls and towers of Castle Lir was not a pleasant one. A quarter of a mile
distant, the bulk of the army of the Inner Ward sat camped and waiting.
Griswold had led a foray out against the Inner Ward's troops, but retreated
quickly when it became apparent that the enemy was quite firmly entrenched.
Both forces tried various offensive gambits, probing for any weaknesses in the
other's defense, but both sides were effectively stalemated. The besiegers
could not come in, and those within the castle could not get out. During the
interim of testing, Brescom continued to draw his net close and tight about the
castle walls. For his part, Griswold regularly marched those walls, checking
their repair and occasionally looking into the distance as if to conjure an
army to come and lift their siege. Fresh water within the confines of the
castle ensured their holding out for a very long time, provided the walls
remained intact, but it was not a proposition that Griswold relished.

Life within the castle,
after the first harrowing days, quickly fell into a pattern. Surprisingly, Lady
Angharad emerged from the seclusion of her rooms to begin taking an active role
in maintaining order within the castle and in the management of food and
provisions. Initially, Dame Edwinna bridled against Angharad's new role, but
when the young lady persisted and the lord of the castle had a private word in
her ear, Edwinna relented. The girl now proved to be adept at discerning what
needed to go where and at acting as Edwinna's deputy in matters with which she
was unfamiliar.

Angharad also saw a
good deal more of Ian than she had in the past. After their emotionally charged
conversation in the disused study, Ian had tried to include Angharad in plans
for the castle's defense. She was routinely invited to all of his meetings with
his general staff, both military and domestic. Though she rarely said anything
during these sessions, she always listened and seemed interested in what was
being discussed. He did not pursue or indicate an interest in anything other
than friendship, and Angharad was grateful for his tact. An emotional tumult
had replaced the coldness she had schooled herself into feeling, and now she
was unsure as to which feelings were genuinely hers and which were caused by
the intensity of the current situation.

For his part, Ian was
pleased to see the positive change in Angharad. He had always felt some guilt
for the predicament that his pursuit of an alliance with her father had caused
her, and to see her active and energetic assuaged some of his self-reproach.
Though he continued to live in his own rooms and keep his private life to
himself, he was gradually aware of a growing sense of dissatisfaction. Kathryn
had ceased to amuse him and had taken on many of the aspects of a millstone.
The dislike between her and his man Evan had escalated into a small war. Both
told him two very different accounts of the treatment that Angharad had
received on the afternoon she had ventured to his rooms in search of him. For
the most part he judged Evan's account to be the truer by far, but reasoned it
politic to simply state that Angharad was the lady of the castle and he
expected her to be treated as such at all times. Both Evan and Kathryn
understood him clearly and there had been no further incidents, at least none
that had been brought to his attention.

From the courtyard
where he stood with Alaric discussing ways in which the crowded conditions of
the castle could be made a little more bearable, Ian heard an increase in the
volume of noise from the great field. Curious as to what the ruckus might mean,
the two men moved towards the gate just as a messenger came racing to tell them
that Lord Brescom was launching a fresh attack, the most dangerous one thus
far. At a half-run, all three men left the castle and started across the great
field. A flash skyward gave Ian warning and he altered his course to miss the
flaming spear that plummeted to earth behind him. Men came running with buckets
of water to douse the flames, but not before another missile landed and began
burning not far off. They found Griswold standing well-sheltered on a barbican,
cursing steadily as he cautiously peered out at the enemy.

"There ye
be!" He exclaimed when he saw that Ian, with Alaric still in tow, had
joined him. "Yon devil is a crafty bastard, I'll give him that," were
his next words.

"What's
happening?" Ian asked as he edged around the other's bulk to look out of
an archer’s sight-hole.

"See for yourself.
He's constructed some contraptions that are big enough to hurl those flaming
spears over our walls, but far enough away so that our bowmen cannae get at the
men firing them." He glowered at Ian as if somehow he had a hand in it.

"Can we put the
fires out?"

"Oh aye, we can do
that. They're using a resin-pitch that is hard to extinguish though, and those
spears are much bigger than normal arrows. If one of them lodges in one o'the
thatched roofs and not the grass of the field, we'll have a fine mess puttin'
it out."

Ian angled himself so
that he could look out to where Lord Brescom's army stood. The bare area in
front of the castle walls extended less than a mile until it met a thin line of
woods, the nether end of the great forest that cloaked the surrounding
mountains. Just out of bow-range, three catapult devices had been set up with a
small fire behind them, which was being used by those men loading the catapult
to ignite their projectiles. A few yards distant from the main scene of
activity a pennon flying the black tower on its blue chevron marked the position
of the enemy commander. As Ian watched, fascinated, he saw two men rise and
carry a spear the length of a man over to where the fire burned. A quick blaze
and the kindled spear was hurried to its place on the catapult. With the
severing of a rope, the machine lurched forward and the flaming missile was
launched over the castle wall. Ian drew back and faced Griswold. "How can
we stop it?" he asked tersely.

"I don't know.
It's too far away to pick off those using it with our arrows, and we don't have
anything with which to retaliate. If we try to rush out and overwhelm them,
there are half-a-hundred men mounted and waitin' to chase us back. It's not a
very pretty picture."

Both Griswold and
Alaric stood staring pointedly at him. Uneasily, Ian realized that they were
looking to him, as lord of the castle, to find a solution. Another of the
flaming spears shot overhead, this one landing close to the stables. Several
horses whinnied in alarm before it was drenched with water. Besides the damage
these weapons could do, they were distracting the defenders on the walls, and
if it went on much longer, morale would be shaken as well. The idea that
finally presented itself to him was unlikely, but it was all that he could come
up with given the circumstances.

"Stay here and do
what you can," he tersely ordered. "I've thought of something, but I
need to check it out." With that cryptic reassurance, Ian left the outer
wall and headed back to the main castle.

Ignoring the barrage of
questions that met him when he entered the main hall of the castle, he peered
around the large, crowded room until he saw Edwinna's distinctive headdress
bobbing over something that he could not see on a table. Being the senior noble
in a castle was a distinct advantage as people broke and formed a path for him
to make his way across the room. Edwinna looked up from the box of pears that
she was examining with a harried look.

"Lady Angharad?
Yes, she should be somewhere about..." Vaguely the older woman gazed
around as if to conjure her out of the air. "Possibly she is still in one
of the pantries. We're checking to make sure none of the fruit from Rinyon
Manor has started to rot; someone thought that they saw a batch going
bad." She resumed her inspection and Ian strode purposely off towards the
kitchens.

Coming through a
doorway he almost tripped over Angharad, who was coming out followed by two
girls carrying large wooden boxes filled with green pears. Angharad stepped
back a pace, saw who it was and welcomed him with a shy smile. The two servants
were sent along into the hall, as Angharad followed him to a quiet corner and
wiped her hands on the capacious apron she wore.

He related the
situation as succinctly as possible and was gratified by her immediate
comprehension. "You think that there may be an arcane method to stop
them?" Her blue-violet eyes were thoughtful and her teeth caught at her
lower lip as she considered the problem.

"That is what I am
asking. Griswold has no solutions, so he turned to me. Since there doesn't seem
to be much that conventional means can do, I thought that there might be an
unconventional way to stop the attacks." One thin, dark eyebrow cocked in
inquiry.