B3 Chapter 57

CHAPTER 57

“War is ill, Sir Sarin,” Lucan said as they rode through the gatehouse. “I shall not fear its ill word, that is for certain.”

Sir Sarin sighed. “Well, it seems that this Duke Rutto, who comes at the back of the pretender, has bought the swords of many mercenaries, your lordship. They command an army of no small proportion.”

“How many men?”

“The march with five thousand men.”

Lucan cleared his throat, nodding without a change in countenance, but having to suppress a growing concern deep within him. “What is the good word then?”

“His cavalry is wanting,” the knight said. “They will be no match for our own.”

Lucan nearly stopped his steed at that moment. More than one matter became clear now. Why the pretender and his liege had come in winter, and even why Sir Sarin was assured about facing them on the field. His pause was only a breath, and then he urged his steed to match the pace of the knight’s. “This is why he comes in winter. Our cavalry will suffer the frosts, the snow, and the frozen ground.”

“It will,” the knight said with a grim face. “But there is no escaping the tyranny of the mounted warrior. It may be difficult, perhaps wasteful, but we will make them pay the cost of meeting us with such a small band of horsemen.”

Lucan nodded, concerns flitting through his mind. Warsteeds were indeed a menace on the battlefield, but they also needed clear and somewhat level ground to truly bring forth their strength. With snow, frost, and iced earth threatening their every move, they would have to be cautious, and many horses would be injured before they even clashed with their first enemy. Their riders would likewise suffer from the same obstacle.

Thankfully, they could contend with the enemy’s numbers if every lord brought their levy to the front eventually. Thousands of footmen and more than a hundred mounted men. That was how large an army they could field, at least with how reluctant every noble was to raise a full levy.

Lucan’s men followed them into The Needles, following which, Lucan and the two knights were guided into the keep. They were led into the lord’s great hall, where a long table was already set with maps and figures placed on top.

The lord’s raised seat was empty, and Ren Arden was standing at the head of the table instead, with Lord Cassius and Drummond standing along its length, each flanked by a son.

“Lord Zesh,” Ren said first, being exceedingly formal on the occasion. “Welcome.”

“Lord Arden,” Lucan said, exchanging nods with the young lord. Ren was fourteen years of age now, no longer a child, and certainly experienced enough in the way of the world to know war was no game of chess. Lucan still remembered retrieving him from the top of a hill in the Wilderlands, after all of his men save for Sir Sarin had fallen. “It is a pleasure to be in these halls again. I share in your grief for your grandfather’s passing. May you rule as well as he did.”

“Thank you, Lord Zesh.” Ren dipped his head with genuine gratitude.

Lucan smiled before turning to the two other lords. “Lord Drummond. Lord Cassius.” He nodded.

“Lord Zesh.”  “Lord Zesh.”

Lord Drummond was quick to gesture at the table. “Come, join us. We were preparing for what is to come.”

Sir Sarin cleared his throat at that moment and said, “Lord Zesh wanted to settle his possessions and his person into his chamber first, my lords. I shall guide him there and return promptly.”

Lord Cassius nodded with a smile. Lord Drummond, however, frowned, though he did not object.

Lucan himself was surprised but didn’t thwart whatever Sir Sarin was plotting, since he trusted the knight more than he did the two lords.

“Yes. Make certain that Lord Zesh is well lodged, Sir Sarin,” Ren Arden said a moment too late, but he seemed to understand his knight wished to take Lucan aside for a moment.

Lucan followed Sir Sarin out of the hall, having delivered his greetings, while Sirs Wolfe and Upton greeted the lords around the table. The knight led him down two pathways and up a spiral set of stairs, then into a modest bedchamber. Lucan hadn’t expected more, considering the many guests the Ardens would have to entertain.

Once they were inside, the knight turned to face him with a grave countenance. “I am afraid Lord Drummond means to lead this army.”

Lucan was taken aback by the abruptness of it, but he answered the knight regardless. “I suppose all members of the alliance will speak their minds on this matter, and then we will choose the one amongst us who is most capable. Perhaps it will indeed be Lord Drummond, or–”

“Your lordship.” Sir Sarin shook his head. “We do not trust Lord Drummond to seek the good of our house. Ren is too young to lead, and none would support him. I am but a knight, and no lord would suffer my command.”

Lucan gave him a look that could kill. The last thing he needed was conflict in the alliance’s first rally for war. He was prepared to give leadership to whoever desired it, and now, Sir Sarin was telling him otherwise.

“House Arden only trusts our foremost ally,” Sir Sarin said unflinchingly. “House Zesh. You, Lucan, must lead.”

After leaving his possessions in the chamber, Lucan followed Sir Sarin down the spiral stairs and headed back to the great hall, a thousand thoughts in his head. He needed to find a path to subduing Lord Drummond, and he was certain it wouldn’t come without ill will on the man’s end.

He stepped into the hall, followed by Sir Sarin, nodding to all those in attendance. The lords and the two knights were around the same long table, eying the maps intently.

“Come, Lord Zesh,” Lord Drummond said. “Join us. We were pondering where to meet the enemy’s host.”

Lucan did, finding a place between Ren and Lord Drummond at the table, while Sir Sarin took the young lord’s other side.

On the table, there were several maps of the eastern hills, which led all the way up to The Needles. The castle itself was perched on one of the larger hills in the territory. Before he could immerse himself in studying the terrain, Lord Cassius spoke up.

“Lord Zesh, your infantrymen seem quite disciplined.” He paused, seeing the perplexed look on Lucan’s face. “We've seen them through the windows.”

“Aye,” Lord Drummond said. “One ought to be surprised seeing how alike they all look. Lord Zesh seems to have expended a lot for the sake of his levies.” His tone was more suspicious than his words may suggest.

Lucan didn’t think it would escape the other lords’ notice how well-trained the Silver Company was when the battle began, but he still didn’t wish to reveal too much. “My lords, it is a small matter. Well-armed men make better soldiers. I thought the expense worth the need.

Lord Cassius nodded knowingly, while Lord Drummond only gave him a dubious look before letting the matter pass and pointing at the map where the Barwalian border met the Shattered Kingdom. “There is a considerable hill here that overlooks the other side quite well. Should we wait for them there, they will have to climb into our waiting blades.”

Lucan was glad the older lord gave him his first opportunity to undermine him, even if he didn’t rejoice in doing it. “I don’t think that wise, your lordship.”

Lord Drummond frowned, turning to face him. “Does Lord Zesh have a wiser recourse?”

Lucan gave him a simple nod and pointed at all the hills on the border’s map. “These would be our death sentence. The pretender comes with little cavalry and an army of infantry. With snow and ice paving the path, our horsemen will suffer as matters stand. Down a hill, they would not be charging but falling to their deaths.”

Sir Sarin nodded, and Ren mirrored his knight. Lord Cassius seemed thoughtful, while Lord Drummond still held onto his frown.

Sir Wolfe cleared his throat and said, “I think it wise to avoid such terrain too, my lords. I would trust my prized destrier on the worst of battlefields, but I would not chance it on a snowy hill.”

Lord Drummond seemed to be preparing a counter, but Ren Arden spoke then with a smooth, more mature voice than Lucan had expected from him. “We ought to think more on these matters, lords and sirs. I am certain, with enough time and counsel, we will come upon a reliable stratagem. Our allies are on their way as well. They must also concur.”

That gave enough grace for any anger to die down, which Lord Drummond fortunately allowed. “What stratagems may Lord Zesh have then?”

Lucan swept his finger over the lands between The Needles and the border. “We ought to fight them here, where Lord Arden’s men are familiar with land and terrain. We will wait on ground flat enough that our cavalry can still trample over them should they be foolish enough to meet us in pitched battle.”

“I will not leave any of our settlements exposed,” Ren Arden surprisingly spoke up again, this time a bit more heated.

Lucan met the lad’s eyes and, seeing the determination in them, nodded. “We could take the folk of the eastern villages into the castle.”

“Harvest is near,” Sir Sarin said, shaking his head. “We either leave the grain for the pretender’s army to harvest or we burn it.”

“And impoverish my subjects,” Ren finished.

Lucan rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“Then we ought to follow the plan I’ve put forth,” Lord Drummond said. “High ground is but a certainty on the battlefield, and with it, we will have the upper hand, even if this light chill may hinder us. We can spread our cavalry over the two nearby hills to give them freer rein to move and avoid injury.”

Lucan still shook his head, though he didn’t oppose the man with words again. He needed time.

“Perhaps we should wait for the arrival of the rest of the alliance’s lords before we agree on a plan, lords.” Sir Sarin said after observing Lucan’s lack of a retort.

Ren nodded. “That we should. We ought to account for what we have since there is time at hand.”

All those around the table nodded. Ren gestured at Lucan to begin. 

“A hundred trained soldiers and eight men-at-arms,” he said.

“Two knights, fifteen men-at-arms, and a levy being raised to march soon,” Lord Drummond said. “Five hundred men at least.” He puffed up, throwing a glance Lucan’s way.

 “Ten men-at-arms,” Lord Cassius said. “And three hundred men being raised at home.”

Nobody questioned the impoverished lord. It was good that he could bring so many men as matters stood.

“Six men-at-arms,” Sir Wolfe said. “And a hundred and sixty levied men, most of them still being raised.”

“Five men-at-arms,” Sir Upton said. “And a hundred and forty men being raised.”

Ren nodded gratefully at each man after they spoke and, at last, he said, “The Arden estate will field Sir Sarin, twenty men-at-arms, and we have raised eight hundred common men.”

“These are favorable numbers, my lords,” Sir Sarin said. “The pretender comes with sixty cavalrymen at most. We already exceed them.”

“They still outnumber us man for man,” Lord Drummond said.

“We can hope that will change with the arrival of the other lords and their men,” Ren said.

Lord Drummond shook his head. “We will never match their numbers, lad. We need to hold the vantage. High ground.” He paused, taking a breath, glancing between Lucan and Ren with a soft smile. “I know you lads have not seen many battles.” His voice matched his smile, and, for a moment, he appeared more a wise greybeard than an overbearing peer. “Someone needs to have command of this army of ours. Someone seasoned and forged by many battles. I’ve marched on campaigns long before you were born, and I’ve seen battles aplenty. I am also the eldest of the alliance’s lords. I ought to command this army.”

Lucan saw Sir Sarin pressing his lips then letting out an exasperated breath that he didn’t let the lord hear. “My lords, it will not be long before the rest of the alliance is here. Surely, we can decide on such matters then.”

Lucan was happy to wait, considering he still did not have a plan. He nodded, and Ren, once again, supported his knight’s proposal, leaving an impotent look on Lord Drummond’s face, though the man couldn’t do much to force their hands now. And so, they retired that evening without reaching an accord, though they at least had some things accounted for.

In the morning, Lucan found himself standing at the same table with the same nobles and the same manner of discourse. Sir Sarin was pointing out the hills and flatlands to the east and looking for the likeliest routes their enemies would take when a quick rap on the hall’s doors echoed in their ears, and a man-at-arms hastily entered. 

“Banners on the horizon, my lord. West and north.”

Sir Sarin loped out of the hall, leaving them to sate their curiosity through the hall’s thin windows. Soon, they saw the raised banners carried into the bailey, each in turn. Four banners, for which they would soon hear the heralding.

True to their expectations, Sir Sarin soon marched into the hall and called, “Lord Ravencroft.” And Lucan’s ally walked in, giving him a nod after greeting the lord of the estate.

“Lord Sergrave.” The lord stepped in with his ever-stern countenance. He was clad in black garments that made his brown skin appear paler than it was. He greeted Ren and gave a light nod to the rest of the nobles in attendance.

“Lord Thornvale.” The crafty lord stepped in, greeting each man courteously.

“Sir Caerlyn.” The young knight was the last to step into the hall. Beside Ren and Lucan, he was the greenest stalk in here, and Lucan often felt his countenance flat and difficult to discern, though not due to any cunning, but instead perhaps due to a great lack of it. The knight bowed to all the lords and exchanged greetings with the knights then fell in beside Lord Thornvale.

They didn’t prolong the formalities considering the circumstances, and soon, they were all around the table again, this time with twice as many eyes.

Sir Sarin asked the late arrivals about their troops. They’d all come with only their men-at-arms as well, and the levies would soon follow.

Lord Ravencroft promised one knight, twelve men-at-arms, and four hundred levied men.

Lord Sergrave brought one knight, thirteen men-at-arms, and promised four hundred levies. He begged their pardon for not being able to provide more since he had his own troubles with some Wildermen tribes.

Lord Thornvale had brought one knight, nine men-at-arms, and promised only three hundred men, which awakened some perplexed countenances around the table. His grounds for providing so few men considering his vast estate were thin and hollow, and Ren certainly took note of it. He claimed that he had to guard against Wildermen and brigands at the border, that his estate was the farthest from here and hence he would not be able to return swiftly enough should the need arise.

Sir Caerlyn didn’t gainsay his unheralded master and promised only three men-at-arms and fifty levied men.

Sir Sarin didn’t spare Sir Caerlyn the baleful glance he’d given to Thornvale a moment ago, and Lucan had to suppress a sigh at this whole mummery.

Before anyone else could speak, he volunteered, “That is three and a quarter thousand men. Quite a bit less than our enemy, though their horsemen are lacking. Sixty at most, against twice as many on our side.

 There were also nine seasoned knights on their side, and Lucan doubted this Duke Rutto had so many reliable and well-armed knights. That was besides the lords who would wish to ride into battle instead of simply watching the carnage. They, too, would be better armed and armored than most men on the battlefield.

The numbers weren’t promising, but there was a common certainty among them that their army’s quality would prevail over their enemies’, particularly considering that a large part of the latter was made of mercenaries.

Of course, with all the lords and knights here, the matter of leadership was brought forth again by Lord Drummond. Before they could speak of it, however, another knock on the door interrupted them and a harried man-at-arms burst in.

“Outriders from the east, my lord,” he said, gasping for breath. “Bearing a flag of parley.”