Ishbel grimaced – it was no small achievement to render her exquisite features so unattractive – and pulled that exuberant collar of fox fur tighter about her neck. A pair of women, bent beneath the baskets full of shellfish they carried on their backs, were scrambling up onto the harbour wall. They must have been out along the rocky shore to the south since early morning, Taim knew. The tide had been at its lowest before dawn. Ishbel watched them walking slowly along the quayside.
“I don’t how anyone gets anything done in this weather,” she muttered. “You should all move south for the winter. Like geese.”
“It’ll be some time yet before the deepest winter,” Taim said.
“Why don’t you go back to our chambers?” Aewult said to his lover, and then beckoned one of his shieldmen. “Send an escort back with the lady Ishbel. And have them prepare my horse. I will be needing it soon, and thirty men to ride with me.”
“Are you planning to go somewhere?” Taim asked the Bloodheir as Ishbel and a pair of the armoured shieldmen disappeared up the road.
“I am.” Aewult turned back towards Castle Kolglas. “I’ll be surveying my army this afternoon. I want them to be ready for tomorrow.”
Taim hung his head and regarded the cobblestones. Events were already setting off down the very path he had hoped to avoid. Had Orisian been here, there might have been some way out of the trap that Taim could feel closing about him; but Orisian was not here, and Aewult was. Now, Taim knew, a great deal – for him and for his Blood – depended upon what passed between him and the Bloodheir; upon what accommodation, if any, he could find with this turbulent man.
“You mean to offer battle tomorrow,” he said, making it a statement rather than a question.
“Not offer. Force. I’ll march, and I’ll keep marching until the Black Road face me. Either we’ll have ourselves a battle or they’ll run away back over the Stone Vale. I’d prefer the battle. Not as much glory in chasing sheep as there is in slaughtering wolves.”
“You think battle a glorious thing?”
“You do not?” The retort was sharp, angry. A battle with the Black Road was not the only kind of conflict the Bloodheir might be eager to court, Taim thought gloomily.
“I’ve seen too much of it to think it anything more than a necessity to be endured,” he said.
“And you think, therefore, I have not seen enough of it? You think me inexperienced in war, Taim Narran. A child, too callow to lead an army. Is that it?”
“No, Bloodheir. That was not what I meant. I am tired, and I am not as young as I used to be. That is all.” It was a lie, but a necessary one. He could hardly tell the Bloodheir that he thought a hothead with a desire to prove himself as quickly as possible made a poor leader for any army.
Aewult kicked a loose pebble into the water. He followed it to the edge of the quay and peered down at the waves.
“Tired and old, indeed,” he said without lifting his gaze. “You needn’t worry. You can stay here tomorrow, while we carve a path back to Anduran for your Thane. If he ever sees fit to grace us with his presence. Perhaps his duty has called him elsewhere.”
The Bloodheir swung about and set off up the road towards the market square. His Shield clattered into loose ranks before and behind him. Taim had to hurry to keep up. He was tempted to ask Aewult what it was he thought he knew about Orisian’s whereabouts, but was not inclined to feed the Bloodheir’s sense of his own importance.
“The Black Road seems more numerous than we thought,” he said as they strode along. “All the reports suggest the Horin-Gyre Blood is no longer the only foe we face. And Inkallim-”
Aewult cut him short with a flourish of his gloved hand. “You and your Thane shouldn’t have been in such haste to leave Kolkyre, if you’ve not the stomach for a fight. I’ve got enough men here to give me the stomach for anything.” He came to an abrupt halt and jabbed a finger at Taim. “You are the rearguard now. Haig’ll do the killing that’s needed to win this war.”
Taim was uncomfortably aware that they were attracting attention. A whole family huddled on the doorstep of a bakery had turned their heads at the sound of Aewult’s voice. Half a dozen men carrying firewood down towards the harbour had stopped to watch. Above, an old woman was peering curiously out from a window.
“We should march with you,” Taim suggested as evenly as he could. “You’ve still got hundreds of warriors strung out on the road, not even here yet. My men can kill for you as well as your own.”
“I’ll tell you what you should do, Captain of Anduran: you should do as I command. I am here, your Thane is not. Unless you can produce him, and have him command you otherwise, you’re bound to do as I tell you. Are you not?”
“Yes, sire.”
Aewult grunted, a satisfied smirk briefly stretching his mouth, and set off once more. Taim followed with a heavy heart. The Bloodheir was right: in Orisian’s absence, he had no choice but to obey whatever instruction Aewult saw fit to give him. Any other course would lead to an open breach with Haig. However appealing that prospect might be in some respects, here and now it would be a disaster.
Up ahead, Aewult’s shieldmen were like the prow of a boat, ploughing a path through the thickening mass of people as they drew closer to the square.
“It might be worth delaying your advance a little while, sire,” Taim tried again. “Anyone here could tell you there’s going to be foul weather the next day or two. Heavy snow’ll blunt any advantage you have in numbers, or in horsemen. Wait until your stragglers have caught up. If it’s true that the Black Road’s stronger than we-”
“If it’s true, if it’s true. Enough. I will not wait here for your Thane to arrive, if that’s what you hope. I have an army, and an enemy within reach of it. If I wait for good weather in this miserable corner of the world, I’ll still be here come the spring thaw. Whatever you hoped for when you snuck out of Kolkyre, this is not your battle to fight. Not your victory to win, do you understand?”
“I do,” Taim sighed.
“Then bite your tongue. Tomorrow, you’ll see what the men of Haig can do. It might be a valuable lesson for you and your boy-Thane.”
II
Aewult nan Haig’s army was a lethargic thing. It woke out of a cold night slowly, discouraged by the gloomy sky and the sharp-edged wind that was gusting off the sea and carrying tiny, hard flakes of snow. Long after dawn, when they should have been formed into columns or already on the move, men were still clustered around fires, arguing over trifles or silently eating gruel. The whole army stank of resentment and reluctance.
The invisible sun climbed higher. The snow grew heavier and cast a white dusting over the town, the army’s camp and the road north. At last, with abundant ill humour, the host began to move. They trudged in their thousands around and through Kolglas, choking every street and farmland path, spilling into the fringes of the forest.
Taim Narran was posted a little way north of the town, five hundred of his men flanking the road. He sat astride his horse and watched Aewult’s army pass. He saw some companies he would count as ready for battle: straight-backed spearmen who marched behind a Vaymouth banner; Taral-Haig riders, their mounts clad in stiff hide bards; a loose crowd of skirmishers from the Nar Vay shore, exuding a murderous enthusiasm. Most, though, appeared short on both vigour and spirit. Heads hung low, feet dragged. Few had clothing fit for the wintry conditions. Taim could see canvas wrapped around boots that were too thin now that snow was falling. Many men had removed their helmets and replaced them with warmer, softer caps. The warriors of the Kilkry Blood would have done much to strengthen and fortify this host, Taim reflected, if Aewult had permitted them to gather and march.