Wall of Spears (35 page)

‘I knew that would make you feel better,’ Rhiannon said shrewdly, which made them both laugh.

‘What are we going to do with Hild?’ Ruttyn asked.

Caelin shrugged worriedly. Hild had been happy on the march, despite the discomfort the men were all feeling, but the positions were reversed when they made it to the camp. There were food and fires and no sign of the elves as yet, meaning they would not fight until late tomorrow, yet Hild was soon crying. A quick sniff inside the bag told them why and they had to fashion something for her from the bottom of a cloak, cut off raggedly with a sword and made into a crude wrap, then have a complaining Harald drop her soiled clothes into a latrine trench. That problem over, they had to still feed her and keep her quiet. Plates of roasted mutton, some sort of vegetable stew and fresh bread were waiting for them and they devoured the hot food like the starving men they were. But while they ate, she turned her nose up at the meat and picked at the vegetables and bread, and then began howling for her mother, and for milk.

The men around had responded with several rousing songs but they were running out of tunes to bellow, as well as the breath to do it, while Caelin, Harald and Ruttyn were at their wits’ end as to what to do with her.

‘Maybe say we found her wandering into our camp. Give her to an officer and get her taken into the city for safety?’ Harald asked.

‘She wandered past ten thousand men unseen, and ended up with us?’ Caelin asked.

‘Well, when you say it like that, of course it sounds stupid,’ Harald grumbled.

‘I don’t think we can find her mother any time soon,’ Ruttyn sighed.

‘Maybe you could pretend to be one. Stick a bit of blanket on your head. You’re always going on about how good your chest looks,’ Harald suggested.

‘My chest is hard like a rock. I think she’d notice the difference,’ Ruttyn told him loftily.

‘Not to mention notice the smell.’ Harald nudged him.

‘This is not helping!’ Caelin shouted, as he jiggled a crying Hild up and down in a vain attempt to quieten her down.

‘Sarge. There’s a whole flock of sheep penned up over there. At least one of them would have milk,’ Ruttyn suggested.

‘You’re sure?’

‘We’ve been eating lamb all night. Stand to reason.’ Ruttyn shrugged.

‘One problem. There’s guards all around. And anyone caught wandering off is going to find themselves with an appointment for a whipping tomorrow,’ Harald said.

Caelin looked at the way the guards were chatting to each other and taking it easy. He reached out and handed a wailing Hild to Harald.

‘Give me her empty milk bladder and I’ll be back soon,’ he said.

‘Sarge — let me do it,’ Ruttyn pleaded.

‘Thanks — but you two really are terrible scouts. I’m the only one who can do this.’

He stripped off his armour, taking only the empty milk bladder.

‘Hurry, sarge,’ Ruttyn said, trying to make amusing faces at Hild and making her cry harder.

The rest of the company would have echoed Ruttyn’s words but they were too busy singing ‘The Merchant’s Daughter’ for the sixth time.

Caelin flitted from campfire to campfire, feeling light as a feather without the weight of his armour for the first time in days. Most of the men were focused on food, with some already sleeping. Any who noticed him merely nodded at the stripe on his sleeve, which said he had a right to be looking at other fires. He was deliberately casual until he got close to the crude animal pen. No doubt these were the best of the bunch, the ones the farmers had begged to keep and punishment would be severe for being caught in there. Not to mention the questions as to why he was milking one into an infant’s food bladder. He passed one of the deserted firepits and scooped up a handful of ashes, which he used to darken his face and hands. His tunic and leggings were already dark, made more so by days on the road.

He watched the guards for a while, judging their state of alertness and also the shadows on the ground. Then he eased across the ground, using the darkness as his cover and timing his move for when they were all looking the other way. The skin on the back of his neck crawled as he imagined eyes on him but he reached the pen and jumped over the low fence smoothly, landing among the sheep. The smell of them was rank and thick but they were used to men being around them and did not try to run away — not that there was room for them to do so. He waited for a few moments, until his breathing had calmed down, then he found a plump ewe and fumbled the end of the bladder over her teat and began to milk her. It was not the strangest thing he had done on the night before a battle but it had to be close, he thought with a smile.

Once the bladder was full, he eased back to the edge of the pen and glanced across at the guards. Instantly he cursed. An officer was now with them and their chatter had been replaced by a keen watchfulness. The old firepits were only a few paces away and from there he had cover all the way back — but they might as well have been miles away.

He looked left and right but there were guards walking a beat across the front of the pen and no way past without being seen. He was about to try it anyway and at least hurl the bladder somewhere Harald or Ruttyn could find it when there was a shout. He peered around cautiously to see Harald stagger up to the officer and begin pleading at the top of his voice for a cup of milk.

‘I haven’t been able to sleep for days,’ he bawled. ‘But a nice mug of milk will settle me down a treat. Just give me a little while with the sheep and I won’t trouble you any more.’

Guards came running to see what the commotion was and Caelin used the distraction to wipe the ash off his face with wool and hurry down to where Harald was surrounded.

‘Where is your officer? Get away from here before I have you digging latrine pits for the rest of your miserable life!’ the officer was bawling.

‘I am this man’s sergeant. I am sorry he got away for a few moments but I’ll take him back now, sir,’ Caelin said loudly.

‘What’s the matter with the man? I should have the pair of you on punishment detail!’

‘He took a blow to the head when we were on the raid on Dokuzen,’ Caelin said hastily. ‘Captain Edmund let him stay with us because of the bravery he showed then.’

The officer’s indignation subsided at the mention of Captain Edmund.

‘Don’t let it happen again. And clean yourselves up!’

‘Will do, sir,’ Caelin said woodenly, then saluted and grabbed Harald by the shoulder.

‘Daddy? Is that you? Come to take me home?’ Harald babbled.

‘That’s right, lad. Come on now,’ Caelin said.

Once clear, he could not stop chuckling, partly in reaction to the tension, and he patted Harald on the back.

‘I may be a shithouse scout, but I know how to play the fool.’ Harald grinned.

They laughed all the way back to their fire and, best of all, Hild eagerly grabbed the milk bladder and was soon silent, much to the relief of all around.

‘With minds like ours, how can we lose tomorrow?’ Harald asked, to general laughter.

‘The human army has set up camp on a flat plain and it looks like they are ready to fight, at last,’ the scout reported.

Sumiko merely nodded. She had become used to seeing for herself what the Forlish were up to, thanks to the birds she kept circling above them at all times. But someone — she guessed either Rhiannon or Asami — had been killing the birds off and nothing had been getting back to her since the early afternoon. She hated that but did not want to let it show. Besides, it was easy enough to get the answers using ordinary means.

‘Did you look to their flanks? Did you see any tricks waiting for us?’ she demanded. A bird could have seen all that in a few moments but it was much harder for the scouts.

‘We swept wide around to both flanks, going as close as we dared without fighting the humans,’ the scout said. ‘There is nothing waiting, nothing to either side, no other force around.’

Sumiko nodded again. ‘Good. Keep a watch on them at all times and tell me if anything changes.’

‘Yes, High One.’ The elf bowed low and then backed away.

Sumiko watched him go with a little smile of satisfaction on her face. She enjoyed this new respect. If only her father could see it.

‘What do you think they are doing, High One?’ Oroku asked.

‘Well, they obviously mean to fight and they dare not take up a position where we can use trees against them. They must have learned from what we did to them last time,’ she mused. It was at times like these that she wished she still had Jaken as her unwilling puppet — he had been useful in that regard. His death had been all the humiliation she had wanted for him but she had not studied war the way he had. Still, it was just a matter of commonsense.

‘We shall rest here for the remainder of the day and overnight. We will advance on them tomorrow, keeping up a gentle pace, and then form up in the clans. Whatever they try, we will destroy them with our bows and magic, then send in our warriors to wipe out whoever is left.’

‘I shall send the message out to the clan leaders.’ Oroku bowed.

Sumiko left him to do that and ordered food brought to her. They were growing low on rice but, thanks to the Magic-weavers, they had fresh vegetables each night. Of course there was no question of her going short. That was for other people to worry about. She would have a good meal and then rest. Tomorrow would bring plenty of magic.

‘You have to get our son back,’ Mildrith pleaded.

‘And I will. I saw the way Huw looks at Rhiannon. He will not do anything that endangers her. We shall exchange them tomorrow,’ Ward said absently.

‘Ward, he is our last son, our last child. You cannot put him in danger,’ she insisted.

‘And why is he our last son?’ Ward asked sharply. ‘Because you tried to interfere with my plans and saw Uffa killed by our men!’

Mildrith’s head dropped and she began to sob.

Ward sighed. He preferred it when she was being an icy bitch. It was much simpler then.

‘You know all I have desired is to see your sons grow into strong men, to take their place on the throne of Forland after you,’ she whispered.

‘But you have to earn the throne. It cannot just be handed down.’

‘You want immortality? Then Wilfrid needs to take the throne. You have seen and heard how Edmund has behaved in the past few days. He will seek to create his own legacy. And he is still young enough to father sons. Give it twenty years and nobody will even remember you. But if Wilfrid Wardsen sits on the throne, then your name will live forever more.’

Ward was about to dismiss her when her words hit home. Edmund was indeed finding his own way. Ward had encouraged that but perhaps not at the expense of everything he had built.

‘Give Wilfrid a chance. All he needs is a chance. But he will not get that if he is killed by some Velshman!’

‘We will get him back. The Velsh need us more than we need them.’

Mildrith reached out and grabbed his arm. ‘If you ever had any love for me, if you have any love for your son, you will get him back for us,’ she said. ‘Please. I am begging you. I cannot stand to see another boy die.’

He looked down into her face, into her eyes swimming with tears and was transported back to the days when they had been young, and in love, and full of hope.

‘He is of your blood. Who knows how long the elven magic will last in you? Will you let the last of you be taken from these lands?’

The voice in the back of Ward’s mind was even more nagging than she was. Ward raised her up to her feet.

‘I will get him back this night,’ he promised.

‘And keep him safe tomorrow. Keep him with you in the battle,’ she urged.

‘I cannot do that and expect him to take the throne. He must prove himself in war. If he stays by my side while Edmund leads us to victory, how can he expect the men to follow him?’

‘But it will be terrible. Anything could happen to him!’

‘I can protect him, or I can give him a chance to be king. I cannot do both,’ Ward said slowly. ‘It will be your choice.’

‘Why can’t you do both?’

Ward pointed to his insignia on his tunic. ‘We are wolves. Just like my standard. And the other wolves only respect strength. You cannot hold Forland unless you use an iron fist. My war captains would never respect a man who sat back and let others fight for him.’

‘But you will not draw a sword!’

‘I have already done so. I led the conquest of Breconia, showed them how it was done. And I will lead the final charge, let everyone’s last memory be of me driving the elves from the battlefield in terror —’

‘You could let Wilfrid do that.’

Ward shook his head. ‘I have made my decision, you must make your choice. Safe, or play the game of kings.’

Mildrith bowed her head for a long time and he wondered what her choice would be. As much as she professed love for Uffa and Wilfrid, he suspected she loved the position they gave her a little more.

‘Let him be king,’ she said finally, fiercely.

‘So be it.’

‘When can I go back to my father?’ Wilfrid demanded petulantly, his voice carrying from where he was sitting, surrounded by Velsh dragons.

Sendatsu and Huw exchanged a look.

‘The sooner the better,’ Huw grunted.

Sendatsu sighed. ‘I think we should keep him close with us tomorrow, use him as leverage during and after the battle. Ward will not try anything while we have his son and Rhiannon will know what to do without any prompting from us. She can take care of herself better than just about anyone else here.’

‘That’s a good reason but, truly, I would rather risk Ward turning on us than listen to him whining all day. Besides, the Elfarans might do us all a favour and kill him.’

‘That would be no favour,’ Sendatsu said. ‘He is the sort of man you want ruling the Forlish — foolish and easily amused. Fear the clever ones, the ruthless ones. Wilfrid is no danger to us.’