Kings of the North (12 page)

Dorrin shook her head. “No—I really know nothing about running a normal establishment. Organizing a soldier’s camp or a fort is very different, barring the need for food and cleanliness. You’ve been very helpful.” She glanced at Gwenno. “But I never gave my answer about your daughter, and she’s waited with uncommon patience. Gwennothlin, if you wish to be my squire, I will be pleased to have you. There are legalities we had in the Duke’s Company—”

“Of course,” Duke Marrakai said. “Well, Gwenno?”

“Yes!” the girl said. “Yes, thank you, lord Duke.”

“Then we can sign the papers tonight, if you will, Dorrin, and get this pesky wench out of our house—” But his look at Gwenno was tender, not dismissive.

“She cannot go tonight,” Lady Marrakai said firmly. “She must
pack, and I must make her shoulder knots in the Verrakai colors immediately. Two days for Verrakai-blue tunics.”

“And I must find another couple of squires,” Dorrin said. “There will be work enough for more, as you said.”

In Marrakai’s office, the Duke wrote out the legal contract specifying the duties of lord and squire, much the same as Dorrin had seen for Kieri’s squires. Gwennothlin signed in a very clear hand, her expression solemn, and then Dorrin; both the Duke and his lady signed below. Dorrin wrote the copy, and all signed again.

“I thank you for trusting me with your daughter,” Dorrin said. “And you, Gwenno, for trusting me with your life. I hope you will be happy—though that is not in the list of a squire’s duties.”

“There’s no doubt in my mind about this one,” Marrakai said. He gave Gwenno a hug and a kiss on each cheek. “Spread your wings, daughter.”

Invitations from Dukes Mahieran and Serrostin came the next day; Dorrin met the boys and agreed. Tall Beclan had the polish of a youth who had been always at court; Daryan, two years younger, had not yet come to his growth and was a slight boy with light reddish hair. When Count Kostvan also invited her to take his second son as squire, she explained that she did not feel able to take four squires yet. He nodded, seeming resigned.

Lady Marrakai’s contacts sent recommendations for a children’s tutor, an estate steward, brewmasters, dyers, weavers, and housewardens to care for the Vérella house while she was away. Dorrin interviewed them all and made her choices. The housewardens—an older couple looking for a less strenuous job—moved in immediately, freeing her servants from some of the household chores. Dorrin had a final interview with the king and then her banker—a frightening glimpse of how much it cost to be a duke.

At last she could think of leaving the city; she sent word to her squires’ families. They arrived at the house the following morning with horses, gear, and brand-new Verrakai livery, with the colors of their own houses at their shoulders.

“Stables down that alley,” she said. “We’re short-handed right now; you’ll care for your own mounts. We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, my lord,” came in a ragged chorus, and they disappeared into the alley. When they came back inside, she took them on a quick tour of the house.

“As I’m sure you heard, this house was seized under the Order of Attainder, so I did not bring sufficient staff with me—” That was as good an explanation as any. “The Crown has returned it, but too late to hire locals. So it’s more like camping in a house than living here. Here’s where you’ll sleep—” Two small rooms, one with two simple beds, one with only one. “Don’t settle in—as we’re leaving tomorrow, you’ll be helping pack up for the trip home for the rest of the day. There’s a meeting at Marshal Veksin’s grange tonight; you have my permission to attend.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“My father’s sending along two pack mules,” Beclan said, “with the rest of my clothes, weapons, and so on.”

“And mine,” Gwennothlin said. “But only
one
mule.” She shot a quick glance at Dorrin, as if for approval.

“I thought girls had more baggage,” Beclan said.

“I thought boys had less,” Gwennothlin said.

“Are your fathers sending someone to tend the mules, or will you be doing that?” Dorrin asked, interrupting what promised to become a quarrel.

“I’ll ask,” Beclan said. He took a step toward the door, then paused. “That is, my lord, if I have your permission.”

“How many mules altogether?” Dorrin asked, looking at Daryan this time. “And how many spare horses?”

“My father’s sending a lot of clothes because he thinks I’ll be growing a lot this year,” Daryan said. “He said it wasn’t fair to make you supply so many sizes.” His pale skin flushed an unbecoming red.

“My mother wanted to send two mules,” Gwennothlin said. “But I said I didn’t need all that.”

“Two mules each, then,” Dorrin said. “There’s no rank among squires of the same year. And two horses each, I’m presuming?”

They nodded.

“So one of your families needs to provide a muleteer. I will send one of you to all three families to make clear that I expect two mules, packed and ready, to be here for each of you tomorrow morning one-half glass past dawn. They can argue about who provides the muleteer.”
They all looked eager for this errand, but Dorrin had a plan. “Daryan, you know where everyone lives, right?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Then you go. You may ride, since we have a busy day ahead of us, and I want you back quickly.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Now, Beclan, let’s see how you do organizing provisions for our journey. Take inventory of the available supplies; in a glass I want a list of what you think we need to purchase today. Gwenno, with this many animals in the train, we will need supplies for them as well. See to it that all the horses are in good shape—get them shod if necessary—and check all the tack in the stable. I expect a report within a glass.” That should keep them both busy while she herself dealt with the new house staff.

Dorrin had never in her life closed a house, with or without resident staff left behind. This was one more proof that she knew much less about her role as a noble of Tsaia than any of the others. The housewarden assured her that the house would be kept clean and ready for reoccupancy whenever she wished.

“If you can give us even a day’s warning, we’ll have the sheets off the furniture, beds made, and so on. The main thing, my lord, is keeping the vermin out and making sure any repair work gets done. I understand you’ll have masons in the cellar.”

“Yes, for a few days. We’re blocking it off for now; there’s no need for it. It wasn’t being used for storage anyway.”

By the end of that first day, Dorrin felt she had a good grasp of her squires’ personalities. Gwenno certainly fit the Marrakai pattern: energetic, full of ideas and enthusiasm. She was quick with suggestions and obviously eager to prove herself. Beclan, more reserved and a bit haughty, was nonetheless perfectly courteous and willingly did whatever chore Dorrin asked. He seemed faintly amused by Gwenno and Daryan, though he was only a year and a half older. Daryan looked younger than he was, being below middle height with a round face that still looked boyish. He was polite and did everything asked of him but did not venture an opinion or idea.

Dorrin released them all to visit a grange if they wished, and they walked off not quite together, Beclan a stride in the lead and Daryan a half stride behind Gwenno.

The next morning, the train of animals and riders lined up to depart seemed almost a half-cohort to Dorrin. She herself, all but one of the servants she’d arrived with, her three squires, Master Feddith the tutor, Grekkan Havverson the new estate steward, and the Marshal-General, plus the muleteer hired to care for the pack animals and spare horses. Others would come later.

The few pack animals they’d come with weren’t enough for the return. They now carried supplies for the journey, supplies Efla insisted were needed for the cook back home—five mules’ worth, plus a mount for Efla.

Dorrin gave a last look at the house; it seemed to have an entirely different expression with its windows and door open, no longer grim and forbidding. Just another city house, one that might someday be full of light and music and friends, if she chose to make it so.

Their procession moved through the streets toward the bridge. This early in the morning, most of the traffic was inbound, farmers bringing produce and livestock to the thrice-weekly market. By the time they reached the city gates, Dorrin had sent Daryan to buy a poke of hot sweet rolls from a baker’s stall, and when Beclan looked longingly at someone carrying a basket of peaches, she nodded and said, “Get enough for all of us.” Guards at the city gates grinned as they passed.

“Thought I saw them peaches going in just a bit ago—”

“If they were in a basket on a donkey cart led by a man with a green ribbon on his straw hat, you did,” Dorrin said. “We’ve a long road to take.”

“Coming back for Autumn Court, m’lord?”

“Gods willing,” Dorrin said. She paid the toll for them all.

They turned onto the east river road, munching buns and fruit. Dorrin could not but think how different this was from that frantic winter journey to catch up with Kieri: then cold and dark, now the summer sun, even this early, warmed their faces and gilded the fields and orchards they passed. Mist hung in ragged streamers near the river; the soft air smelled of fruit and flowers and hay. And no reason to hurry: they came to Westbells only shortly before noon. Beyond that more lush pastures, fields of ripening grain, orchards …

The party divided naturally into three groups: she and the squires
and the Marshal-General, her servants, and the muleteer with the extra horses and pack animals. That was pleasant enough and seemed safe this bright summer morning, but Dorrin had spent too many years in Kieri’s Company to ignore possible danger.

“We’ll be rotating guard positions,” Dorrin said, when they had passed Westbells. “For now, I want Daryan ahead on the road; Beclan, you’ll trail our group; and Gwenno, you’ll be flank scout on the river side. Eddes will be flank scout on the land side.”

“Surely you don’t expect any trouble here, this close to Vérella—it’s Mahieran land—” Beclan began.

Dorrin raised an eyebrow and noticed the Marshal-General giving him a stern look as well. “You’re here to learn, Beclan,” Dorrin said. “More trouble comes when you don’t expect it than when you do.” Not strictly true, in some of the places she’d been, but a good lesson anyway. “You’ll warn us of anyone coming up behind—and that includes along the rear flanks. Daryan, you’ll signal when you see any party coming along the road the other way. Stick your hand up once for every rider or the number of people in a group. Same with the flank guards. Every time we pass through a village, rotate positions. Rear guard to river-side, river to foreguard, foreguard to land-side, land-side to rear.”

“How far out?” Gwenno asked. “Should I ride across the fields?” She looked eager to do so.

“We don’t trample crops,” Dorrin said. “Where they border the road, just ride on the verge. Stay back, about halfway along our group, where you can see any hand signals I give. We want to make it clear that we’re alert, watching on all sides. If we practice that now, where it probably
is
safe enough, you’ll know how to do it later, when it’s not.”

The squires set off into their assigned places. Eddes, now almost up to Dorrin’s standard as a basic militia soldier, grinned at the squires until he saw Dorrin looking at him. At the next village, Beclan turned aside from the rear and trotted up to Gwenno. “Go on,” he told her. “I’ve got this side now.”

Dorrin turned in the saddle. Eddes had indeed dropped back to take Beclan’s place, and Daryan had reined his mount to the side of the road, waiting for them to pass. Gwenno pushed her horse into a stronger trot and reached Daryan before the head of the column.

“Neatly done,” Dorrin said. She waved the column on, and they started again.

That night they camped in a field near a cluster of farm buildings. Dorrin assigned one squire—Gwenno this time—and two of the militia to dig the jacks; Beclan and Daryan set up her tent and their own and took the horses to water and to graze while the rest cut out a fire ring and Efla cooked supper.

“I wondered how you’d handle them,” the Marshal-General said.

“Hmm?” Dorrin stretched, arching her back.

“The squires. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised; you’ve handled recruits before—”

“And Kieri’s squires from time to time. He assigned them to different cohorts when he had enough of them. Their fathers had sent them to us to learn military things, after all.”

“What do you think of these?”

“After one day? It’s too soon to make judgments.” She hoped she’d know much more by the time they reached Verrakai lands.

Supper was less than successful; Efla had never cooked over a campfire before. Her attempt at bread came out scorched on the outside and gooey on the inside, the redroots burned to the bottom of the pot, and only the sausages, toasted on sticks, and the sib were really good.

“Never mind,” Dorrin said, to her apologies. “Clean out the pot—we can eat the last of the city bread tonight and in the morning, and tomorrow night I’ll show you some tricks about cooking outdoors.”

The long summer twilight softened around them; the first stars came out as they sat around the campfire. “My lord,” Beclan said, “when you’re moving an army, how many guards do you put out?”

“It depends on terrain,” Dorrin said, “and what trouble you expect. But here, on this road, when I had most of a cohort with me—”

“You were on this road with a cohort? I thought Duke Phelan’s lands were up north.”

“When I was hurrying to catch up with him on his way east,” Dorrin said, “I had, as I said, most of a cohort and basic supplies. We knew there’d been trouble. From Vérella to Westbells, where we met Paksenarrion, we were riding in tight formation, moving fast enough I didn’t set a rear guard, but did have assigned flank guards whose job was to watch. Beyond Westbells, Paks often rode out as foreguard.
Every time we stopped to rest the horses, there were guards out on all sides.”

“What about in Aarenis?” Beclan asked. “In Siniava’s War, not in peacetime.”

“We always had fore-guards, flank guards, and rear guards. How many depended on how many troops we were moving. A cohort on the march, not mounted, would have mounted scouts, at least a pair on each side, one on the road ahead, one on the road behind.” Dorrin gestured. “If you’re in open country, where the scouts can ride at a distance but see the column clearly, it’s easier. In wooded country, you need people who can operate on their own and not be ambushed themselves.”