The Gathering Storm (Crown of Stars 5)

“Truly, there is,” he said, wiping sweat from his forehead, “but if this is the same river we rode beside yesterday and the day before, it had a great deal more water in it then. It would be good tactics on the queen’s part to deprive us of water, especially if they’ve access to a spring within their walls.”

“Lord Wichman.” Sanglant called the duchess’ son forward. “Will you take fifty men and venture to find this dam, if there is one, and destroy it?”

“With pleasure!”

“Do you think that wise?” asked Hathui as Wichman strode out of the gathering, eager to get on the move. “He’ll be alone in enemy countryside. The heat is ruinous.”

“Then I’m rid of him and the trouble he causes, or he solves our water shortage. Captain Fulk?”

The captain stepped forward. “We’re setting up our perimeters on both sides, my lord prince, and digging two rings of ditches, one facing out and one in. That bluff to the north holds one flank. The spot where the stream meets the river fortifies the second. We can’t do anything about an attack from the sea, if one comes, but we’ve set the wagons in line as a palisade. I’ve got a score of men strung out as sentries well into the countryside. We’ve heard a rumor that King Henry marched east many months ago into Arethousan country—a region called Dalmiaka. If it’s true, his army lies east of us. If not, he could come up from the southwest.”

“Very good.”

“I pray you, Prince Sanglant.” Lady Wendilgard of Avaria came forward with a dozen of her best soldiers at her back. Although her nose and cheeks had been burned red by the sun, her face had the pallor of a woman held under a tight rein. “We have come from the forward line.”

When she knelt before him in an uncharacteristic show of humility, he smelled trouble. The way she had set her mouth, teeth clamped shut and lips pressed thin, bode ill. “I pray you, go on.”

In the distance he heard the griffins shriek. Lady Wendilgard remained silent too long, and when she spoke, she spoke too quickly.

“I have been to the forward line, my lord prince. I have seen the walls of Estriana. My father’s banner flies beside that of Aosta. He rides with Queen Adelheid. I cannot fight against him.” For once she could not look him in the eye, knowing what he was: bastard and rebel. “I cannot.”

Silence was a weapon, and she employed it better than he did.

He spoke first. “It may be a feint. How do you know your father himself rides with the queen?”

Like her parents, she was proud and with a few breaths regained her composure enough to look him in the eye. “I called out to the guards on the wall, my lord prince.” Such formality from a woman who was near enough his equal in rank condemned him. He knew what she would say next. “My father was summoned. I saw him on the walls, hale and alive.”

He tapped a foot on the dirt, stilled it; a surge of energy coursed through him but he had to remain seated and in control. “So,” he said, temporizing, but he had already lost this battle and it was too late to change the course of the defeat.

“So be it,” she replied, again too quickly. “I gave you my oath, my lord prince, which I will not forswear. I will not draw my sword against you. Yet I must remain loyal to my father. I and my Avarians will withdraw from the army and return home.”

XXXI

THE LOST

1

HE could not let it be. The lady and her soldiers rode out in the late afternoon while Adelheid’s men gathered on the walls of the town and jeered those who remained, although the griffins prowling between ditch and wall gave the enemy pause. One man shot an arrow which fell harmlessly short of Domina.

The Avarian defection dealt the siege a grievous blow. Men frowned as they dug the ditches that would protect them. Soldiers muttered and fell silent as he passed. They gazed north, toward home. They argued about who had the camp next to the Quman contingent although Fulk had already assigned places, and Gyasi was forced to order his nephews to stake out a rope to encircle the Quman encampment and bind it with charms and bells to keep Wendish and Quman apart.

Worst of all, the griffins flew off suddenly, and although they had done so before in order to go hunting and had always returned, this time their departure smelled of defeat. Men watched them go and turned muttering back to their tasks. On the rocky shoreline, five dead dolphins washed up, their corpses half decayed and infested with tiny worms. In the wake of this omen the seawaters began to retreat as though draining away into a sinkhole. Fish flopped and gasped in shrinking hollows on the exposed seabed, and his soldiers waded out into the muck to retrieve them in baskets—yet one man wandered too close to the walls and three arrows pierced him before his comrades could drag him to safety. He died shortly after, as the sun was setting, and no sooner had the one piece of ill news made the rounds than two horses suffering from colic had to be slaughtered.

Sanglant took Hathui aside as the camp settled in for an uneasy night punctuated by curses and jeers from Estriana’s walls and the too-distant sigh of the sea, whose waters receded finger’s width by finger’s width although by now the tide—if there even were one in the sheltered Middle Sea—ought to be turning to come back in. Drought on the land and an uncanny ebb tide at sea. What next?

“Saddle a mount. I’m riding after Wendilgard.”

She began to speak, but after making that first sound—no recognizable word—she shut her mouth.

“You know I value your advice. I pray you, Eagle, say what you think.”

“Only this, my lord prince. Best that you persuade her to return. The Avarians make up a fifth part of the army. Lady Wendilgard commands respect because she, too, rode south not for glory but because of loyalty to her father. Now folk are reminded that you are a rebel. They do not like to think of fighting against the regnant they love.”

“How is it, then, that you dare think of it, Hathui?”

Her steady gaze matched his. She held her ground. “I witnessed what they did to the king. Who is to say they have not ensorcelled Duke Burchard in the same manner? Isn’t it a form of sorcery if he doesn’t know the truth and instead remains faithful because of a lie? How is it rebellion to raise weapons against false dealing?”

By the time they rode out along the road that cut into the wooded hills left of the bluff, it was night with only the waxing crescent moon to light their way and a wind blowing in hard off the water. He took fifty men, half of them dismounted and walking on foot with torches. The road plunged into a pine-and-oak forest open enough that they could see the stars twinkling through the foliage. Wendilgard had ridden farther than he expected, and the moon had set by the time he called his soldiers to a halt and went on with only Hathui.