“But you do not have enough time to plan.”
“Attack is my favorite form of defense.”
Lada let the phrase turn over in her mind. It reminded her of something. Tohin—the Ottoman woman who had taught her how to use gunpowder in combat. She had spoken of the need to constantly be on the attack so that other countries did not invade Ottoman lands. Push out so no one can push in. A dealer of death, that was what Tohin had said one must become. Deal enough death elsewhere to keep it away from your own home.
“What kind of force?” Lada asked.
One of Hunyadi’s men let out a dismissive huff of air at Lada’s inclusion in the conversation, but Hunyadi answered. “Mounted, heavily armored.”
Hunyadi had some armored men who could meet such a force head-on. But Lada’s men wore light mail, unsuited to direct combat. Hunyadi must have followed her thoughts. “This is not a battle for your Janissaries. I will keep them in the rear.”
Lada bristled. She knew her men were worth twice Hunyadi’s. He would know that, too, were he not so focused on her as a marriage prospect. But she bit her tongue before she could argue. If Hunyadi was engaged in a canyon, and her men were in the rear, it was as good an opportunity as any to flee.
She sighed, feeling these new threads to the throne snap one by one. She was left, as always, with her only thread of power: herself.
They rode fast through flat, open farmland until they came to the threat. Canyon walls rose before them, a narrow gash through a leagues-long line of rocky, steep hills—the only easy passage for mounted troops.
Lada saw immediately why Hunyadi needed to stop the Bulgars before they exited the canyon. Once through, they had a straight shot to anywhere in Hungary they wanted.
Shouts drifted to Lada on the sharp breeze. Hunyadi was riding his horse back and forth in front of his men. A scout appeared, his horse heaving and frothing. Lada saw Hunyadi’s shoulders tense as he listened to the report. He said something, then pointed at her. The scout nodded.
Raising a fist, Hunyadi roared. His men roared in response and charged after him into the canyon.
Had he told the scout to make certain she did not leave? Lada smiled grimly. She would welcome that. She rode to meet the scout. He trembled atop his trembling horse.
“What is it?” she demanded.
“Hunyadi asks that you watch. If Bulgars begin to come through, ride hard for the nearest village and get the people out.” He pointed to the east, where Lada could see hearth smoke lazily marking the village’s location.
“Does he expect the Bulgars to break through?”
The man shrugged wearily. “More men than we thought. Too many.”
“Why did he go in, then?”
“If they get through, they will burn the village and take all the winter stores. The people will starve.”
Lada frowned. “But it is one village.”
The man smiled bleakly. “It is his village, though. He grew up there.”
Lada rode
her horse slowly back to her men, the information nagging at her. They could leave. No one could stop them. But Hunyadi could have left, too. Regrouped elsewhere. Let one small village fall.
“Damn his honor,” Lada grumbled, staring back into the canyon. Hunyadi’s forces had already disappeared around a bend. It would not be long before they met the enemy. Both would be trapped and constricted by the canyon. It would be a slaughter on both sides.
It was not her problem.
But her eyes went to the rim of the canyon. It would be impassable for heavily armored mounted soldiers. But that did not mean it was impassable for everyone.
She needed an ally. She needed more threads of power. And if she could prove to Hunyadi what she was capable of, then maybe she would have them. She could run—again—or seize this chance.
Lada jumped off her horse and grabbed her weapons. “Dismount! Take everything you can easily carry. Nicolae, take men up the other side in case this one is impassable.”
“What are we doing?” Petru asked, already following her lead.
“We are going to take a look.”