The Forgotten War (104 page)

Without turning to look at them, still staring aimlessly out of the window, Leontius finally spoke.

‘In a guest room, under a secure guard, I am playing host to an ambassador. Nothing unusual there, you might say, but, as you probably know, the ambassador is Arshuman, the first one to
visit under my rule, and he has brought with him terms. I have yet to listen to them but I can make a shrewd guess as to how they will play out.’

‘Universal surrender of all lands east of the Kada? Our total surrender guaranteeing cessation of hostilities?’ Edrington spoke in a bluff voice with an accent that could come only
from the highest nobility. The glow from the lamp made his face look almost demonic.

‘Pretty much. They will kindly deign to leave us with Sketta, and a rump of land in the south, I imagine, a part of the country they have no interest in. How, gentlemen, will I answer
their terms?’

There was a hubbub of indignation from the seated men.

‘Send him back in two ships, his head in one and his body in the other.’ Duneck’s remark drew a laugh from Richney, silence from the others.

‘Tempting as your suggestion is,’ Leontius said, finally turning round to face them, ‘we live in more civilised times. He will return with a rebuttal, yes – it is, after
all, what he and his king expects – the only reason he is here is to rub my nose in His Highness’s shit. What concerns me more is how we claw ourselves back from the desperate situation
in the east. Hartfield, tell them the current situation, as your son has written to tell you.’

Nicholas drank deeply and set his goblet down on the floor.

‘You all know of the desertion and betrayal of Baron Fenchard, I take it?’ Everyone in the room nodded. ‘Well, his men have secured the strategic towns of Grest and Tetha
Vinoyen. They also hold Haslan Falls and the fortifications at Axmian. In short, the only land they do not hold is the city of Felmere in the north with its adjoining lands and nearby subject
villages and towns such as Shayer Ridge, where the diamonds come from.’ More nodding in the room. ‘Baron Lasgaart’s loyalty we are unsure of; he is no traitor but is holding his
lands with a bare few hundred men that he managed to get across the river. He is under extreme pressure and may defect from us, simply to ensure his own survival. And lastly but no less
significantly, in the south and east Baron Garal has declared for Arshuma, putting pressure on Esric.’

‘And that is not all,’ said Leontius. ‘Marschall.’

Duke Marschall spoke: ‘As you know, I am related by marriage to Baron Wyak of Athkaril, a key city in this campaign, a gateway to the Seven Rivers. Related we may be, but I have borne this
man little love in the past. He is weak, lazy and cowardly. Well, now it seems the Gods have finally judged him. His city, packed with refugees whom he has used badly, has overthrown him. A lot of
it has been burned and no one man controls it now. Ironically enough, a force sent by Fenchard was poised to take it but the locals burned the bridge to cinders before they could cross.’

‘And Wyak?’ asked Edrington.

‘Disappeared. Maybe dead. There is a rumour he was allied with Fenchard; I cannot confirm or deny the truth in this but maybe he has fled to them. There is no love among us for a baron who
cannot control his lands.’

‘Wyak is a dead man walking,’ said Leontius, ‘If he turns up, I will deal with him; you are happy with that, Marschall?’

‘Do what you will.’ Marschall said with a sardonic smile.

‘Good,’ said Leontius briskly. ‘Now to the better news, things aren’t unremittingly bleak – Hartfield?’

‘Well,’ said Nicholas, ‘what Dominic tells me is that the Wych folk we managed to recruit are absolute demons on the field. They appear like ghosts to the Arshumans,
materialising out of nowhere, slaughtering many, then disappearing before an arrow can be trained on them. They operate almost on their own. Reynard of the Eagle Claw liaises with them, and they
have saved many lives through their lightning-fast reactions. The Arshumans, who used to hold the advantage in fast cavalry, quail in terror at their approach. The other thing my son accounts as
good news is the late Baron Felmere’s replacement as protector for his son. He has gathered many of our scattered troops to him and hopes to counter the foe in the spring. He is apparently an
experienced man who knows the vagaries of battle out in the east. Dominic states that all is not yet lost, though help from outside would be welcome.’

‘He is a commoner, I hear,’ said Fillebrand distastefully. ‘Should he be replaced with a noble?’

‘Maybe in the future,’ said Leontius, ‘but right now the only candidates are either dead or turned from us by Arshuman gold and the promise of power under their king. Lasgaart
is the only one I can think of, but he is an administrator, not a warrior, and has his own problems at the moment. This man stays there for now.’

‘So,’ Fillebrand said tentatively, ‘do you have a plan, my Lord?’

Leontius did not answer at first; he opened the heavy door to the room and called for more wine.

‘We have a fine cellar here,’ he said to the nobles. ‘Wines from Tarindia, Fash, Sessithulo and Crown Haven. I insist you all try as much of it tonight as you possibly
can.’ He shut the door again.

‘I am not a man of war, though I have studied its practice deeply and long. From what I can see, all of us need to play a part rather than sitting in our draughty halls and criticising
from a distance. First of all, Athkaril needs to be secured before the enemy gets it. To that end, I am going there in person with my men and shall attempt to command operations from it – use
it as a base if you will. Secondly, we need to keep these Wych folk on our side. Richney, take a thousand men to their forest with the weapons we promised. You are to leave them on an island on the
river. Do not enter the forest on any account – that would be an act of war.’

Richney seemed less than enthralled. ‘As you wish, my Lord’

‘When that is done, come and join me in Athkaril.’

‘Yes, my Lord.’

‘If I may ask,’ said Edrington, furrowing his brow, ‘do you know what reception you will get at Athkaril? Are they likely to attack you?’

‘No,’ said Hartfield, ‘their ire was solely directed at Wyak. You are as likely to be welcomed as a hero as anything else, my Lord, although our neglect of the people there is
not something we can be too proud of.’

‘Maybe. Although there was little we could have done while Wyak was there. Now, for the next thing, and you all know what I am going to say – I need men. I put a lot of store in
clinching this war this year. That is not going to happen and my stock will be all the worse for it. The loyalty of everyone here is not in question, but there are a few barons downstairs with
grudges and they need little excuse to start stirring things up against me.’

Marschall’s eyes darted shiftily. ‘How many do you need? And is winter the best time to do this? Why not wait till the spring?’

‘I have no choice,’ said Leontius, his eyes keen. ‘As I said, we need Athkaril out of the enemy’s hands; there will be a muster after the week of religious observations
and I will leave as soon after that as I can. Duneck will be going with me and I will be talking to the rest of you tonight about joining me. Edrington, as the senior man here, I would like you to
stay and run the city in my absence. This whole enterprise is emptying the coffers and I am taking a massive gamble in sending such a force out there.’

Nicholas Hartfield finally took his seat. ‘It is possible we will be leaving the city and its heartlands seriously undermanned; it could embolden the bandits in places like the Morrathnay
Forest to see troops stretched or withdrawn.’

‘What of the north and west?’ said Richney. ‘I was there not long ago; they have many fierce warriors – why should they be excluded from this?’

‘No, they shouldn’t be.’ said Leontius. ‘Any suggestions?’

Nicholas stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘I was due to go up there in the spring for their council meeting. They have a meeting in the winter, too; perhaps I should go to that
instead.’

‘I was hoping you would say something like that,’ said Leontius, with a knowing smile. ‘My sources tell me they are looking for some sort of tax concession. Give it to them in
return for a promise of men, to either join me in Athkaril or to police our heartlands until I return.’

‘When is this meeting?’ asked Nicholas.

‘Soon, you will not get there in time if you go on foot. It may be winter but you will have to go by sea. I will speak to you later of this, but I suggest you go with a sizeable fleet to
impress them. You will not be able to take all the men I wanted you to, but the flotilla should be sufficient for the task.’

‘We will be stretched thinly everywhere,’ said Marschall. ‘It will be a hard winter for us all.’

‘I agree,’ said the Grand Duke. ‘I have no words of consolation here; all we can do is pray for the mercy of the Gods and ask him to send a thunderbolt to strike Fenchard into
the oblivion he so richly deserves.’

‘Winter Feast seems somehow to have lost its appeal,’ said Marschall quietly.

‘Nevertheless, we shall make the most of it,’ said Leontius. The door was tapped gently. ‘See, the wine has arrived – a glass for everyone and we shall return to the
fray; it should be time to eat soon.’

Wine was handed out and one by one the nobles made their way down the stairs and back to the ball room. Nicholas was about to go when Leontius called him back. It was just the two of them left
in the room.

‘Have you heard anything from your daughter?’ the Grand Duke asked in a hushed tone.

‘Strangely enough, no. At first she wrote regularly but lately her missives have been few and far between.’

‘Well, you will be seeing her soon anyway, I suppose. Her marriage to Osperitsan seems to be going well enough. I suppose the strength of the alliance will be easier to gauge when you see
them.’

Nicholas eyes narrowed slightly. ‘May I be blunt?’

‘Of course,’ said Leontius with a smile, ‘I would expect nothing else.’

‘The marriage would be stronger if you could deny the persistent rumours that you plan to annul it and take my daughter for your own.’

‘And would you object to that?

‘Marriage to a grand duke? Of course not, but were such a marriage to take place then I can only suggest that this marriage to the northern baron was ill advised. An annulment will be seen
as a huge slight on their part; also any hopes you have of getting the cooperation between the disparate elements of the country that you wanted will be dashed for ever.’

‘That is why no annulment will occur while this war continues. Do not worry, my friend; I will not undermine your visit to them. Their response will determine any future action. If I am
underwhelmed by their reaction to our requests, then an annulment will happen sooner rather than later. I do not want that to happen, though. Return with a promise of troops from them and I will be
happy and the status quo will be maintained for the present.’

‘So what you are saying is, if my mission fails, my daughter will end up married to a grand duke. It is hardly an incentive for me, is it?’

Leontius laughed. ‘Perverse, isn’t it? As I said before, do not worry; as far as I am concerned ultimately our two houses will be joined, whether it takes one year or five. As you
know, the secret of sound leadership is to wait for the chance and take it when it presents itself. And that is exactly what I mean to do.’

Nicholas did not answer; he seemed to be mulling over Leontius’s words. Finally, he changed the subject. ‘Take Fillebrand with you; he is arrogant but he has both pragmatism and
experience of warfare. Duneck can joust, as can you, but that is about it. Richney, too, knows nothing of war.’

‘And Marschall?’ asked Leontius.

‘An experienced warrior, but Marschall’s first interest is Marschall himself. Watch him try to send the minimum number of troops he can get away with. Do not accept it – he has
more money than most. Get five hundred men off him at the very least.’

‘Sound advice,’ said Leontius. It was his turn to change the subject. He looked at Nicholas with a quizzical eye. ‘Tell me, Nicholas, which of the barons downstairs would you
trust least?’

Nicholas laughed. ‘I am sure you have your own candidates, but, as you ask, Barons Schurmann and Lasthena are always the first to spring to mind. Maybe it is just their manner, though
– both are surly and uncommunicative at the best of times.’

Leontius nodded his head slowly. ‘They are names I have heard before. Thank you Nicholas, I know in the past I have not been eager to seek your advice, but those who have had my ear before
now have let me down rather. I have sworn to myself not to be so blinkered in the future.’

Nicholas gave a curt bow. He then followed the others back down the stairs.

Leontius was alone now. He heard the sound of music and laughter drift up the torch-lit stairs; it sounded like the evening was going well. It meant little to him. Here he was the most powerful
man in the country having to get on his knees and beg for help from others. He had wanted to finish the eastern war with a display of audacity, bravery and chivalry so cementing his place in the
annals of his House. Now, thanks to betrayal and incompetence, his very rule was being questioned, however tentatively. He needed to secure his power base and the best way to do that was patronage
of the most powerful nobles, either through honours or marriage. His older sister and younger brother had been married off some years before, leaving only himself available. He knew what he wanted
to do but the question was how?

There was a noise behind him, a gentle rustling of cloth. He knew what and who had caused it and did not even bother turning round to look.

‘Hello, Henk.’ he said casually.

‘My Lord.’ The voice was deep, gravelly.

‘You heard everything just then?’

‘I did, my Lord. Schurmann again; it is not the first time his name has been mentioned.’

Leontius turned to face the other man. He was looking at a tall, wiry fellow with not a spare ounce of fat on him, clad in black with copper-coloured hair and frost-blue eyes. He had emerged
from behind a tapestry on the far wall behind which, if one were to look, was a small spy alcove with enough room for a man of height to sit and listen in comfort.