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Book V: The Emperor's War

Eat at morn,
None knows what evening brings;
Luck is ill to lose

Opening Moves

Better brave heart than bright blade

"What do we know? Lord Stephen first."

Stephen nodded to the King, looked around the small council room. In addition to the King and two of his captains, it held Brand of River Province and the lord of Westval, come with the King. At the far end of the table Leonora, Harald standing beside her.

"They've been rebuilding the bridge, with most of a legion this side of the river to protect it. Troops are assembling on their side. There are probably more farther back, out of sight. I won't risk men scouting there—too many troops, especially Bashkai. But we can see loaded boats on the river, word of mouth has a lot of stuff on the roads." He stopped, looked at the Lady Commander.

"I won't risk scouts across the river either. But we have friends. Rumor says a big army assembling, the Emperor out to do Gavin's job right."

Harald spoke:

"Word three weeks ago. Emperor moved against the princes. Second Prince locked up in the summer palace. Don't know about his brother."

The King looked puzzled. "You think it's connected?"

"Emperor's old, sons ambitious. Second Prince is clever, has Artos, support in the West, some in the legions. First Prince not quite as clever, richer, kin through his mother to half the highborn in the eastern capital. Old Man's been playing them off against each other past five years, more. They got tired of it.

"This spring, a gamble. One invasion wins, one loses, loser backs the winner against the Emperor. Emperor's been trying for twenty years, hasn't beat us yet. One of the princes does it, legions may decide they've been backing the wrong man.

"Emperor's old, not stupid. Don't know what he planned if they pulled it off—maybe offer whichever was weaker the succession in exchange for support. I think he expected what happened. They attacked early spring, food tight, each prince used his own people. We beat them. First harvest is in now, Emperor can move in force. Pulls it off, does what they couldn't, wins twice—beats us, beats them. Peaceful old age. Much to be said for it."

"So you think this is an invasion in force?"

Harald nodded. "Why I'm here. Crossed east with two cacades—what I could raise fast. Hrolf, Egil, Donal, a few other friends later with more. Empire will move south with everything they can raise and feed—eight legions at least, probably more. Can't match us in cavalry, but close as they can manage."

"You"—the King's glance encompassed both Harald and the Lady beside him—"have been fighting him for twenty years. What will he do? What should we do?"

Harald looked at Leonora, back to the King.

"Emperor makes mistakes—but not the same mistake twice. Army bigger than ours, slower. Wants to show up the princes, can't use Artos even if he could find him, which with luck he can't. Emperor will command, knows his own limits. Simple strategy, overwhelming force, as little maneuver as he can manage.

"Could imitate Gavin, go for the northern holds. Takes them, can't feed that army forever, goes home. Eventually we take them back. Doesn't just want to do better than the princes, wants to finally beat us. He needs a target we can't move, have to defend."

The room was silent. Finally the King spoke.

"Eston."

"Eston and the royal castle. Army with supply train, a week and a half from the border. Straight down the road, siege both of them. Takes them, holds the mouth of Eston valley with two legions, one more for the city, rest of the army goes home, picks up the northern holds on the way. Had his army, his generals, fighting me and 'Nora, what I'd do."

"Can you stop him?"

"Maybe. Best guess, a couple of weeks before they move. You and I head south, get city, castle ready to hold, maybe set up a few surprises. Stephen, 'Nora, most of my boys stay here, keep an eye on things."

Leonora broke in.

"Caralla crossed west a month ago, no word since. Things start moving, she should take the field force, leave me free to hold against one of the sieges."

"Off with a few friends to deal with something. All went well, back before trouble starts."

Outside Stephen's council chamber, a ring of boys and young men, some armored in hardened leather. In the empty space in the middle two more, fighting with wooden swords. The smaller blocked a series of hard blows, stepped back, tripped. A moment later he was on his back, the other's point to his throat.

"I yield." He looked up at Mikel, one of the oldest of the boys, more or less in charge. "What should I have done?"

"Not tripped." That brought a laugh from some of the others. From behind them a voice.

"One answer, others. May I?"

Broad, medium height, graying hair. He reached out a hand. The boy handed him the sword. The Lady following him took a matching weapon from one of the bystanders.

"By your leave?" Nobody objecting, the two stepped into the middle of the circle. The attack came at half speed, three blows. The Lady retreated, tripped over an invisible obstacle, fell to her back, sword up. As the point came at her throat her left hand slapped the flat of the blade aside, her sword swung one-handed. The two froze, the man's sword pointing at the ground, the Lady's edge against his right side.

Mikel called out over the sudden silence. "Easy enough moving slow like that."

The man glanced at the Lady. This time the blows came as fast as when the boys were fighting, the result the same.

"Any faster, need armor." Harald handed the sword back to Hen, turned to go.

"Show us more."

He turned back, looked at the faces—most eager—reached out for the sword.

Mikel felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Know folk would pay good silver to watch those two at practice."

He turned, recognized Stephen, behind him the King, both watching the two figures in the ring.

"My lord." He stopped, hesitated.

"Yes." He turned back to watch.

Later, Harald met Leonora emerging from the bath house, hair dripping.

"Fun; should do it more often."

She nodded. Hen joined them.

"That was wonderful. Father says you're riding south to the city. Can I come? I could help with the horses."

"Up to Yosef. Doesn't need you, glad of the company. Friend I'd like you to meet."

The next morning they were on the road—Harald, James, Hen and a decade of cats.

By the end of the second day Hen had lost his awe of the King, discovered a subject of common interest. The next morning they fell to the back of the line of horsemen to discuss it out of his earshot. Hen was halfway through the fight by Willow Creek when the King's horse shied to one side.

Hen shouted " 'Ware ambush," wheeled his horse, charged at the men coming out of the forest edge. The King's horse bolted down the road. By the time he had it back under control everything was over. Most of the cats, mounted, were clustered around Hen. A moment later two more came out of the woods.

"Ran."

"Too late to catch them now. Knute, help James with the horse—arrow in the left rump. Hen?"

"Is the King all right?"

"King's fine. His horse has an arrow in it. What about you?"

Hen looked down.

"Oh."

One arrow was standing out of his side, a second in his left shoulder.

"Let me get you down. Gently, lady mine."

The gray mare stepped daintily sideways, next to Hen's gelding. Harald lifted the boy out of the saddle, handed him down to one of the two on foot, then dismounted.

"Was I right? You said—about archers. I knew, but . . ."

"But they didn't. You were right. Why they ran." As he spoke, Harald was reaching into his saddlebag. A moment later he was kneeling by the boy.

Half an hour later the arrows were out, Hen still, eyes closed, breathing. Harald looked up. Knute gestured at the two horses, the litter between them.

"Safe to move?"

"Think so—rib stopped it. Inn's not that far."

Harald listened a moment to the noise of voices in the street outside, poured a last dipper of warm water over himself, climbed out of the wooden tub, dumped in his discarded clothing, stretched. A few minutes of stirring got rid of most of the river mud. He wrung out tunic and drawers, hung them over the back of the bench, pulled on dry clothes, went out into the inn courtyard, damp garments over one arm.

Waiting for him were two familiar faces. He looked at one, spoke to the other.

"What are you doing here? Should have him back to Forest Keep by now."

Knute shrugged. "Not my kid; said he wanted to come south."

Harald turned to Hen, waited.

"James . . . His Majesty . . . said to visit. Never seen the city, almost there. Besides, you had a friend you wanted me to meet. Keep's boring."

"Dying is worse. Let me see."

He led the boy back into the privacy of the bath house, helped him pull off his tunic, looked over the wounds in side and shoulder.

"Not bad, should still take it easy."

"I walked the horse all the way—Knute said."

"All the way home too. Dinner, good night's rest here; I'm too old to go scrambling over rocks. Tomorrow visit your friend James, couple of ladies. Head back, stop by some friends of mine, take care of an errand, back north. Walking."

A day and a half later, rested and fed, they rode out of the King's castle headed west, Hen quieter than usual. After a while he spoke.

"It felt like home."

"Save a man's life, womenfolk are apt to appreciate you."

"Didn't."

"He had sense enough to wear mail—not like some I could mention. Arrow can still go through it."

"Elen was nice." He looked down a moment. "Like Mother when I was little."

"Good lady. No children of her own."

"The little girl was sweet."

Knute snorted. "Visits the most beautiful lady in the kingdom, all he notices is the baby."

"Is she?" Hen looked frankly curious; Harald answered.

"Beautiful. Brave. More sense than most. Better than James deserves—anyone else I can think of. Pretty baby too—takes after her mother." They rode on in comfortable silence.

By late afternoon they had left the river valley, following a path that climbed north. On their right a small river, sometimes near, sometimes out of sight. At last Harald stopped, motioned Knute back, rode forward with Hen beside him. On their right the forest fell back, plowed land, meadow. A small house, a barn, a young man pulling weeds. He looked up. Harald called out:

"How's the fishing?"

Before he was finished the gray mare was in motion. So was Jon. He absentmindedly fed her a handful of weeds, looked up at her rider. Harald slid off the horse; Jon hugged him, head against the taller man's shoulder.

"Too long. Brought a friend. About your age."

Jon looked up, Hen down.

The next morning, Harald, Hen and Knute went with Jon and his mother to help a neighbor, some miles farther up the little valley, put a new roof on his barn. A dozen families were there already. When the work was done, the householder thanked the visitors for their help. One of the other men asked about news.

"War. Imperial army coming south."

"I heard the King drove them back this spring."

"Bigger army this time. King thinks it's headed for Eston. Don't expect they'll forage this high, but might want to get women, herds, up hill a bit, hide things."

There was a long silence. One of the men broke it.

"How sure are you?"

"Emperor hasn't told me his plans. King thinks they're coming this way. So do I."

"The King told you?"

"Knew I was coming up here, thought I should warn you, maybe see what could be done."

The man looked skeptical. One of the others moved to the front, looked carefully at Harald.

"Thought I'd seen you before. Last time was Fox Valley. Good advice then—least, we won the battle."

Harald looked at him carefully. "With big Henry, royal spears?"

The man nodded.

" 'Ware archers!"

The shout was from Knute, the arrow still quivering in the ground a few yards from where Harald stood. The next few seconds were chaos as farmers scattered, Knute ran for his horse, Harald whistled for his. Both men had bows out and arrows nocked by the time the two boys came around the side of the barn into sight, Hen with a bow in his good hand, Jon a quiver of arrows.

"Anyone see an arrow?"

Harald pointed, spoke to Jon.

"Shooting at your friends is bad manners."

"It wasn't him; I did it. Sorry."

Harald looked in puzzlement at Hen, his wounded arm still strapped to his side, the bow in the other.

"How . . . Oh."

"Jon told me how you shot two Wolves with a broken arm. Never thought it would go all the way over the barn."

Back at Stephen's hold, the first person Harald looked for was Yosef. He found him camped with the province levy.

"Where's Hen?"

"Got himself hurt protecting the King from an ambush on the way south—did the right thing, did it fast, wasn't wearing mail. Not bad, started to heal, riding was opening it again. Left him with friends in the hills above Eston valley. Don't expect Imperials will get that far, can move farther up if they do. Anne would have been happy to take him, figured this was safer. Friend his age to keep him out of trouble. Good kid."

"Never managed with us or 'Bjorn. Think you can do better with other people's kids?"

Harald turned to the familiar voice, hugged his daughter, held her out at arm's length.

"Iskander didn't decide to keep you for his harem after all? Thought I had it all arranged."

"Iskander behaved very well. Ever gives you any trouble, threaten to spread the story of how he escaped from the summer palace dressed as a woman. Artos, on the other hand . . ."

"More your type anyway. Everyone safe?"

"Including your grandson."

"Figured that was where he was off to. Make himself useful?"

Caralla hesitated a moment, looked around. Again.

"Probably saved Kiron's life in the capital. Helpful getting Iskander out. Don't tell him I said so. More later, too; you'll hear when we go up hill."

When they got to Council—the King was already back—"more" turned out to be a detailed account, in writing, of the Imperial army.

"Stalked one of the officers, held his feet to the fire till he told?"

Caralla shook her head.

"Into their camp to beg, do tumbling tricks. Left me a note—said he'd rejoin us this side the ford. Did. Got a handful of coppers and two silvers."

"Twelve legions, Emperor commanding. Fifty cacades heavy cavalry, forty mixed, no Westkin, another thirty of archers, Bashkai, odds and ends. That's it?" Harald looked up from the paper.

Caralla nodded.

Five days later a scout brought more news. The Imperial army had crossed the river.

"You counted ten banners?"

Kara nodded. The King looked puzzled.

"I thought there were twelve legions."

Harald answered: "Were. Question is who's missing."

He turned to Kara.

"See the First—Sunburst Gold on red?"

She shook her head.

"Thought so. Bet the other's Fourteenth or Fifteenth. Banner's . . ."

She interrupted: "Fourteenth isn't there. Rest fit 'Bjorn's list."

Harald nodded.

"Got the news. Wants to be sure, gets back to the Western Capital, someone to open the door."

"What news?" This time it was Stephen.

"Few weeks back, Second Prince got out of where the Old Man put him. Must have made it home. First is Emperor's old legion; headed for the capital. Fourteenth is out of the east, no ties to the princes. Put it in the pass, make sure Artos and Iskander don't come visiting."

He nodded at Caralla.

"Next ten won't be so easy."

 

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