“We’ll need ships to attack that position,” said Stronghand, “unless you know another ford that can be crossed.”
“Duke Conrad is vigilant, so they say. He has ambitions in eastern Salia, I have heard.”
“Yet such a river makes a powerful border. It would be hard to rule both sides of the bank if you haven’t enough of a foothold. Duke Conrad sounds like a prudent commander.”
“It is said he is. He has allowed my people to trade in his cities. He does not demand more of a tax than other nobles.”
“So he is a man who will watch his back.” Stronghand turned to Last Son, now his second because he had left Trueheart behind in Alba as governor. “We’ll need fifty sheep or cow bladders. Call as little attention to yourself as possible. Eat your fill.”
saw only two monks, both of them withered old men as wrinkled as the raisins they sprinkled onto the porridge given to the prisoners twice a day. Neither spoke, not a single word, but one knew herb-craft, and he brought ointments for Sister Petra, a foul brew for those suffering from the cough that relieved their congestion, and a spelt porridge for Mother Obligatia along with sage steeped in wine.
“We must keep up our strength,” said Rosvita one evening in the courtyard after they had finished a noble and astoundingly filling supper of beans stewed with parsnips and fennel.
With the help of Hilaria and Fortunatus, Hanna climbed up onto the top of the wall—and shrieked. The courtyard was carved into the last triangle of the ledge, an acclivity whose bounds were cliff above and below. She hung over the wall, feet drumming on the bricks while Fortunatus held her ankles, and stared straight down into the defile as though the wall became the cliff face. The gulf of air made her dizzy. Dusk swept in from the east; the valley below was already drowned. A fly buzzed by her ear, but she dared not slap at it. So far away that it was only a speck, a hawk glided on the wind. If only they could fly, they could sail right out of here. Then she looked down again, and fear choked her: the whole wall might collapse under her weight and send her plunging.
“We can’t escape by this route. Too steep to climb above, and too steep and too far below.” She kicked out and jumped, landing with knees bent as Fortunatus steadied her. She wiped her hands on her leggings, but they were so dry that she wondered if the dust would adhere permanently to her skin. Her heart was still racing.
“The sun will kill us if we escape without a good store of water,” said Aurea, always practical.
The rest were silent, waiting for Rosvita to speak. Both Gerwita and Heriburg had come down with the cough, but they didn’t suffer from it as badly as Ruoda and Jehan, who were only now beginning to recover the color in their cheeks although they still slept most of the day and night.
“Until we are all strong, I think we must bide here quietly,” said Rosvita at last. “I will ask the guards to allow us to take turns hauling water up from the spring. Surely they tire of performing this task, and it will allow us to gain strength by climbing the stairs with full buckets. When all of us can manage the feat—” She smiled at Mother Obligatia, lying on a pallet beside the open doorway, since it was understood that Obligatia and Petra would be exempt from work. “—then we choose between what opportunities seem open to us. Meanwhile, I will ask the guards if we might obtain quills and ink and a table and bench for writing. As well make good use of the time, if we can.”
5
WITH fewer than fifty picked troops at his back, the boldest and most reckless, Stronghand struck inland, following the hounds. The trail took them east and northeast through northern Salia. The war between the Salian heirs had already ravaged the countryside, but they still fought a dozen skirmishes before they came to a ferry crossing on the banks of a great river which marked the limit of Salian territory.
The Hessi interpreter nodded at the river and the garrison stationed on the far bank.
“That is Vanish country, part of the duchy of Arconia,” Yeshu said. He had spent much of his childhood in Salia under the tutelage of an uncle and knew the country well. “Under the rule of King Henry and his sister Biscop Constance. But those in the garrison are flying the sigil of Duke Conrad. You see? The hawk of Wayland. We heard rumors in Medemelacha that King Henry is dead, or has abandoned the north to linger in the old city of Darre, seduced by dreams of empire. Biscop Constance is said to be a prisoner of her half sister, Lady Sabella. Sabella married her daughter to Duke Conrad. Maybe this is true. I haven’t seen it for myself.”
Hessi merchants liked to see things for themselves before pronouncing them true or false. It was one of the reasons Stronghand found them useful to work with. If he dealt fairly with them and allowed them to expand their trading networks, then they returned a fair profit in information and taxes in exchange.
“We’ll need ships to attack that position,” said Stronghand, “unless you know another ford that can be crossed.”
“Duke Conrad is vigilant, so they say. He has ambitions in eastern Salia, I have heard.”
“Yet such a river makes a powerful border. It would be hard to rule both sides of the bank if you haven’t enough of a foothold. Duke Conrad sounds like a prudent commander.”
“It is said he is. He has allowed my people to trade in his cities. He does not demand more of a tax than other nobles.”
“So he is a man who will watch his back.” Stronghand turned to Last Son, now his second because he had left Trueheart behind in Alba as governor. “We’ll need fifty sheep or cow bladders. Call as little attention to yourself as possible. Eat your fill.”
They moved upstream under cover and once they were out of sight of the garrison he unstoppered the precious flask the merfolk had given him and let fall two drops of spoor into the streaming water. They ate well that night, careful not to gorge, and remained concealed in the woodland all through the next day, scouting upstream for the likeliest place to cross. A bend in the river offered the best conditions; the twenty human soldiers could swim it and the Eika cross with the aid of inflated bladders. By dusk they were ready to go. He left four men behind to wait for the merfolk.
Now they would have an escape route if the hounds led him farther inland than he hoped. They were a small group, fashioned for speed and a quick strike, not for a prolonged campaign.
He let the hounds support him across. Swimming made him nervous, as it did all Eika because they did not float like humankind. And because he knew what lurked in the depths. Although he had an alliance with the merfolk, he did not trust them. Their desires and goals seemed too alien from his.
But as he clambered up on the far shore, these reflections made him grin. Certainly humankind feared and hated the RockChildren for the same reason. What we do not understand makes us afraid. What does not look like us on the outside must remain suspicious. Yet how much harder it was to see past the outer seeming into the inner heart. The merfolk wanted restored to them what they had lost.
Was that so difficult to understand? Any soul might feel compassion for what they had suffered—if it were a soul that could feel compassion.
The hounds shook themselves off. His soldiers deflated the bladders and carried them along in case they had another river to cross. The hounds cut back toward the ferry crossing to find their trail, and once again they speared east and south through woodland. After a pair of days the land became broken and hilly, and the fields and settlements they had been careful to avoid fell away. Up in the hills no one farmed.
On the third day he smelled the smoke of smelting fires and in the late afternoon they crept up to the verge of a great scar dug into the land. The forest had been cleared back; the reek of charcoal tainted the air. Shafts pitted the land, and steam rolled out of their depths. Men dug and hauled and hammered, most in chains and a few with whips and spears and knives set as guards upon the others.
“These are mines,” said Yeshu. “Silver and lead if we’re in the Arbeden Hills, as we should be. These are the richest veins of silver and lead in the northwest, so it is said. King Henry controls these mines and feeds his treasury out of their bowels. But you see, there.” He pointed to a log house set at the eastern edge of the clearing, where two banners could be seen through drifts of smoke. “Duke Conrad’s hawk flies beside a guivre. The guivre is the sign of the duchy of Arconia.”