Chapter 15

Starhaven, Duchy of Kingsheart, Sidor

“How could this happen?” Serwyn demanded, his voice shaking with barely controlled anger. “How could a bunch of peasants defeat trained knights? I thought you told me the disruption would be minimal. Bailiffs and knights murdered. Supply shipments ransacked. Ever since I listened to you, Uncle, my kingdom has been in chaos. How could you let this happen?”

Every noble and courtier in the throne room tried to find somewhere else to look other than at Edmund or the king. That in itself was unusual. Many of the men who’d gravitated toward the throne over the last several months were exactly the type who usually glorified in this kind of display. It’s why half of the men in this room came here, to see the misfortune of others and, occasionally, get an opportunity to enhance their own station from it.

This was not one of those displays. Both the king and the duke were notorious for their ability to hold grudges, and everyone knew who the real danger in that room right now was. Edmund might be keeping his entire focus on his nephew, but that did not mean he wouldn’t be making a list of every man who took pleasure in this moment. And everyone knew retribution would be swift.

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?” Serwyn continued when Edmund did not answer right away.

“Your Majesty, I share your anger at this tragic loss, but we must keep perspective-”

“Perspective?” Serwyn interrupted him, half-rising from his seat. “I’m losing my kingdom, listening to your advice and counsel. What other perspective do you think I should have?”

Edmund took a slow, calming breath before continuing, his eyes never leaving his nephew, “You are right to be angry, Your Majesty. I understand your frustration. These ... events are indeed troubling. Are the peasants displeased with the law? Of course. It’s only natural for them to be unhappy with limitations, much like a child is displeased when a parent takes away a plaything or refuses a request. Does that make the parent’s decision to limit them, for their own protection, bad? Of course not. The real problem here lies with the barons, who are failing in their duty to you. It is their job, as your vassals, given power by your hand, to enforce your laws and edicts. You have, as the kings before you, given them the decision of how to best enforce those laws, as they know their own people. While that has worked in the past, it is clear now that the current crop of barons and lords are unable, or unwilling, to do their duty in the manner their fathers did. They have failed to maintain order in their lands, and now, we are all paying the price.”

“I thought that was the point,” Serwyn grumbled.

Edmund frowned. The boy lacked any subtlety or understanding of the game. That was, indeed, the point, but to say it out loud, in court, was an error. The barons would already know, of course, that these new laws and edicts were ultimately to rein in the power they’d wrested from the crown over the last hundred years, but that was a different thing than having it put into words so directly.

The king all but saying the laws were passed in order to hurt the barons was tantamount to justification for further disobedience, as it broke the traditions that made up the foundation of the liege-lord relationship.

“My goal, and advice, has always been solely to deal with unrest in your lands. Unrest that is common when the crown changes hands. I promise you, however, that this will not stand. I will not stand idly by while this rebellion spreads. I will see to it that something is done about these people, and the barons who have allowed them to flourish.”

“You better,” Serwyn said, glaring at his uncle. “I won’t tolerate any more of this.”

Edmund nodded solemnly, bowing his head slightly, as he worked to school his face. Serwyn might be young and inexperienced, but he wasn’t a fool. Worse, he had Gavric’s temper, which would often be short and targeted at the first person he saw. Gavric had moderated his anger with a sense of duty to the kingdom that did not get passed on to his son. While Serwyn’s more ... inward-looking nature made a useful tool in directing him, it also made the boy less able to be assuaged when his anger did fly out of control.

“I understand, Your Majesty. You have my word,” Edmund said as he started to back away from the throne before turning and taking his leave.

As soon as he was out of the throne room and the massive doors were pulled shut behind him, Edmund quickened his pace, rapidly walking toward the east wing of the palace where the family’s rooms and work areas were located.

He schooled his features to remain calm, but inside he was simmering with anger. Things were getting out of hand. How that fool Blout could have let his men get waylaid like that, Edmund would never know. Bailiffs he could understand, since most weren’t much more than jumped up peasants themselves, but twenty seasoned men-at-arms and two experienced knights?

It should have been impossible. Worse, he had to put the blame on Blout for this, since it happened in his Barony. Langmere had remained one of the more loyal of the barons, in spite of everything. He’d have to send a wyvern to him, let Quentin know this time he had to be the sacrificial lamb, and make promises of paying his service back in the future, when things were more settled.

Edmund found the man he was looking for in one of the courtyards, watching five men train with swords while he leaned on a column, looking bored.

“Captain, a word,” Edmund called.

Colm looked up and then back to his men, as always going at his own speed, never in any great hurry, before pushing himself off of the column and joining Edmund.

“Your Grace?”

“Walk with me,” Edmund said, setting off deeper into the palace, toward his rooms, Colm falling into step with him. “Were you able to gather the men I asked for?”

“I did. They aren’t cheap, but I have seventy-five good men, ready to do whatever you require.”

“I don’t care about the price. Things have escalated, and I need the situation along the border of River Mark handled. I’d hoped the barons themselves could take care of it, but they are proving inept.”

“I always said knights were all talk.”

“Yes, well, the situation is outside of their expertise. The peasants have become guerrillas, operating in hills and forests, ambushing smaller groups and fading away before the full weight of the kingdom can be brought down on them. Regular forces just aren’t trained to deal with that.”

“My men won’t have the same problems.”

“Good. I want you to do whatever you have to do to chase these people down. Draw on any men you need to in my name as duke, or in the king’s name, if you have to, but I want them dealt with brutally, execute any man found in defiance of the king. I will give you letters of marque to that effect.”

“Consider it done.”

“Good. I know how you hate giving reports, so I’m sending Orlan with you to give me updates and keep me informed on your progress. He is there as an observer and will not interfere with you, but you are to see to it that he is not harmed in any way. If he dies, you will bear the blame for it.”

Colm made a grumbling noise but nodded before he walked away.

He knew Colm would hate having a minder, but he needed to be able to tell Serwyn something, and he knew if he sent Colm off on his own, the man would be a ghost for weeks or even months until he reappeared, his task finished. He just had to hope Colm, or one of his thugs, didn’t kill Orlan in the process. It would take forever to train another assistant properly.

Chansol River, Lynese William crouched behind the thick underbrush watching the opposing bank, his men lined up behind him, waiting silently in the dark. It was only three days after Pride’s Fall, and the moon was still high in the sky. He would have preferred to do this when the moon was dark, or even on a less clear day, but their supply situation was getting worse. If they were going to take the river and push forward, it had to happen now.

In the distance, the sound of hooves and jangling tack grew louder as a Lynesian patrol came into view, right on schedule. William held his breath, which wasn’t really needed considering the rushing of the river and distance between them. They were well concealed, and it seemed unlikely that they’d be discovered at this point, but the entire plan was his idea, and relied on stealth as much as anything else.

Not that the Lynesians were paying much attention to his side of the river. The current here might be slower, but it was much too deep to be forded, and armored men swimming across a river was never a good idea.

At least, he hoped that’s what they assumed. He’d watched them on his last scouting pass and left men to watch this spot for the past several weeks, and they’d held to the same schedule every time. He waited until after they passed, listening for the sounds of the horses to fade north into the distance. After a few more minutes, for safety, William waved Dominic forward. A fisherman who lived on the Kingshold River, the man spent his life in waters similar to this, and everyone attested to him being a strong swimmer.

“Be safe. Tie it off and get into your hiding spot until we get across. May the Ancients watch over you,” William said as one of the sergeants handed Dominic, who was wearing only simple trousers, a thick rope line and a knife.

“Thank you, Ser,” the man said, his crooked smile showing badly rotted teeth, as he tied the rope around his midsection.

William slapped him on the shoulder and then he was off, wading into the water and disappearing from view. Even with the moonlight, it was hard to pick him out, but the rope began unraveling, slowly turning south, downstream as it went. For several minutes, they watched the rope travel, meter after meter, across the beach, further and further downstream. William started to worry that something happened to the swimmer.

“Look,” one of his men whispered, pointing past William toward the opposite beach.

He was well south of them, but he’d made it, dashing across the beach and up the tree line until he was roughly parallel to their position, where he tied the rope off to a tree before dipping out of sight into a large piece of foliage.

William waved and half a dozen men came forward, dragging small boats out of the tree line. As soon as one got into the water, men piled into it, every one of them holding onto the rope, pulling their boat through the water toward the other side, fighting the current.

William got into the second boat, and joined the men with him, pulling with all his might. The current might have been weak enough to swim against, but he could feel it pulling hard against the boat. Every moment, it felt like they were going to be pulled away from the rope and swept downstream, toward the bridge under construction and the enemy.

And then they were across, the boat scraping onto the sand.

The five boats all made it across, and then the harder part began, as three men in each boat pulled them back to the opposite shore, where they would be filled with even more soldiers for the next trip. If even only one of the boats failed and went downstream, the entire mission would almost certainly be a failure.

William didn’t have time to wait and watch their progress. The men in the first group had been chosen for their ability to move swiftly and silently, and their ability in a fight. They all knew their assignments and were ready when William signaled. At William’s command, they followed the road north, after the Lynesian patrol. The enemy had a decent head start, but they hadn’t seemed to be in a big hurry. William set a brisk pace, worried that the patrol might turn off the road or stop to rest before he could catch them. The last thing he wanted was to lose them and have an enemy force running around at his rear.

After fifteen minutes of jogging through the woods, William spotted the bobbing lights of the patrol’s lanterns ahead. He raised a clenched fist, bringing his men to a halt, and waved them into the trees, out of sight. They crept forward, finding that the patrol had stopped and was talking in loud voices, drinking from flasks, taking a break. Reaching as far as they could go without exposing themselves prematurely, William pulled his sword, his men following suit.

Looking back to ensure they were all ready, he raised his sword and his men charged forward, out of the trees with a savage cry.

The Lynesian whirled in shock, scrambling to draw their weapons as the Sidorians slammed into them. Caught by surprise, they managed little resistance. William impaled the first man through the back before he could turn his horse. The rider toppled from the saddle, dead before he hit the ground.

William’s men made swift work of the rest while they floundered in confusion. In half a minute, the six Lynesian soldiers lay dead or dying.

“Strip and release the horses, hide the bodies and tack in the bush. Hurry, we need to get back to the rest of the force.”

The men moved to follow his commands, quickly removing any trace of their fight beyond the blood soaked into the dry roadbed. In a few hours, any sign of the ambush would be gone.

Five hours later, William was crouched behind a thick wall of foliage, shrouded in the dark blue of early dawn. His men were half exhausted, scattered out behind him, recovering from hours of running through the darkness as they retraced their steps on this side of the river. They’d run into two more patrols along the way, wiping both out in the process.

The string of bodies they were leaving behind them worried William some. Each one was more opportunity for someone to discover them and sound the alarm. His uncle’s attack wasn’t to start for another hour at least, which gave time for word of the patrols’ death to reach the main Lynesian army. If they started investigating, there was a good chance his small force would be discovered. They were good men, but a hundred Sidorians stood no chance against the weight of Lynesians gathered on this side of the river.

He couldn’t see the enemy from here, holding his men back far enough to be able to hide in the forest, but he could see the smoke from their cooking fires drifting up on the other side of the small rise ahead of them, blocking the army from sight.

For thirty minutes, they sat there, waiting, watching the river as the Sidorian army gathered on the other side.

“My Prince,” one of the men next to William whispered.

William pulled his attention from the Sidorians and the bridge to the rise between them and the Lynesian army. Two men were ambling down the rise toward them. William turned to the man who alerted him, thrusting his head toward the rest of the men. The sergeant nodded and moved slowly, at a crouch, making gestures and leaning in to whisper to the closest men, spreading the warning of the approaching Lynesians.