Blood in Snow (8 page)

“A thousand at least,” Abby added, “if not more.”

Dread rippled through the crowd.

“How could they have heard so quickly?” Edmund said, more to himself than to anybody else. “It’s only been a couple of months since we declared our independence. A spy couldn’t have gotten all the way to Eryn Mas and back that quickly. It’s impossible!”

“What’re we going to do?” somebody asked.

“They’re on horseback,” Pond went on, “but there seemed to be a line of wagons, too.”

“That’d be their supplies,” Hendrick said. “They must be planning for a long campaign.”

“A long campaign?” Edmund repeated, dumbfounded. “Why would they expect a long campaign against us? There’re only two hundred people in the entire Highlands! They could have finished us off with a hundred knights, fifty even! This makes no sense.”

“What’re we going to do?” a newcomer asked again.

“Ed,” Pond said, “we can’t fight them. There’re too many.”

Grumbling got louder. Then many people began to yell. Some wanted to fight, saying they’d rather die than to lose what they had or to submit to a king. But others talked about hangings and executions for treason.

Arguments broke out.

We should have had at least six more months, if not more. How did they hear so quickly?

Magic! I bet my lot that this has something to do with magic. It was probably—

“Ed?” Pond jostled Edmund’s elbow.

Edmund looked up. Hendrick, Bain, and the town guards had all gathered around him, weapons drawn, though doubt flickered in their eyes.

I’m not going to let them take this away from us. This is our home.

Then do something!

Edmund climbed up onto a table and hollered for quiet, but the arguing didn’t die down.

He seized a horn from one of the guards and blew. The common room shook from the blast, then all fell silent. Two hundred thirty-three people stood staring up at him in apprehension and fright.

“We’re not going to let them take our town,” Edmund said. “This is our home. Our … home!”

Some of the original men—those who were in Rood when it was little more than burned-out buildings and piles of refuse—nodded their heads grimly, while most of the newcomers appeared unnerved.

“We can’t fight them,” someone said. “Not a thousand knights!”

Edmund paced along the table, stroking his scratchy beard, trying to think.

We can’t fight them. That’s a given.

Maybe if we make weapons from Iliandor’s metal.

We’d need armor as well, otherwise they’d just shoot us full of arrows.

We don’t have armor. Not full platemail, at any rate. Maybe a handful of shields.

Then what? What are we going to do?

“Ed?” Pond said again.

Edmund gazed absently out the window. Flecks of snow swirled outside, glittering like little white diamonds in the muted northern light.

I can’t let them take this from us. People deserve to be free. We deserve to be free.

“Ed!” Abby shouted.

Edmund peered about him.

Everybody waited for his answer.

“We can’t fight them,” he agreed.

There was a murmur of curses as many angry voices began talking at once.

“We can’t fight them,” Edmund repeated louder, “but we will not give up our home.”

Agreement rustled through the crowd.

“We will not rejoin Lionel’s kingdom,” Edmund called out to more nodding. Swords were shaken in the air. “We will not live under the yoke of nobility. Not again!”

Cries of approval rose up from at least half of the men.

“But what are we going to do?” a young farmer asked. “I don’t want to be hung. I, I just came here to have my own farm!”

“And to have my own business!”

“And to make some money!”

“All the more reason to fight,” Hendrick shouted back. “Aren’t those things worth fighting for?”

“The question is, though,” said Cavin the carpenter, “how can we fight and win? I don’t mean to sound like a naysayer. I love this place as much as anybody, maybe even more. I want to build great things here; I want to have a home.” He exhaled heavily. “But what can we do against an army of knights?”

Yes … what?

Edmund stared at the fluttering snow as angry debates throbbed around him.

Snow …

It’s barely two inches, if that.

It won’t be enough to—

“Hendrick, Bain,” Edmund said abruptly. “How fast could Lionel’s forces move in a day?”

“What?” Bain called through the growing turmoil.

“Shut up!” Hendrick bellowed.

Everybody quieted.

“Lionel’s forces,” Edmund said again. “How fast could they move in a day?”

“With the wagon train they’re probably bringing,” Hendrick said in contemplation, “ten miles is a good day’s march.”

“Once they get within a couple days’ ride of here,” Bain added, “they’ll secure their supplies, create a base camp, and then advance on the town with their mounted forces.”

Edmund resumed pacing. “Ten miles.”

They’ll follow the river right to the west side of town.

The river …

Something occurred to him.

“They’ll follow along the river’s path,” Edmund said. “They couldn’t ride more than two abreast most of the way.”

Frantically he surveyed the crowd.

“Who brought wagons? Who brought wagons up from the south?”

A few hands shot up.

“Vin!” Edmund pointed at the brewer. “How was it bringing your wagon along the river from Eryn Mas? How fast could you go?”

“Not fast at all,” Vin called back. “Barely a crawl. They won’t make ten miles once they enter the hills by that ford. The path is all but gone, and when it’s visible, it’s mainly upturned rock. My wagon had a hell of a time bouncing along. I thought I’d break a wheel or an axle.”

“I had to push my wagon,” one newcomer said. “The oxen couldn’t pull it over the rocks.”

“Me too. And I only had a cart!”

That’ll slow them down then.

Still, they’ll be here in ten days. Two weeks at most …

We can’t do much in ten days.

No, but we can slow them down even further. Maybe …

“Have an idea?” Abby asked hopefully. She sat nearby on a bench, sipping hot spiced cider. Much to Edmund’s annoyance, Merek stood behind her, massaging her shoulders with his muscular hands.

Edmund again surveyed the crowd.

They were a motley group. Some were former soldiers, experienced in battle. Others were farmers wanting their own land. Most, however, were unskilled laborers simply hoping not to starve.

Edmund considered his options. He could field maybe a hundred warriors at most, and few of them had armor.

A hundred versus a thousand.

At the very least, we can buy time and make Lionel’s forces pay for coming here. Hit-and-run skirmishes, in and out of the forests. That might reduce their numbers.

Buy time …

Edmund inhaled deeply, smelling the anxious sweat of the townsfolk crowded together in the common room.

“Okay,” he told them, “this is what we’re going to do …”

PART TWO

Chapter Nine

Edmund and a score of Rood’s most battle-hardened men crouched behind some evergreens along the steep hills that pushed up against the River Bygwen. A mile downriver, a band of King Lionel’s scouts approached, horses stumbling up the rocky path that eventually led to Rood’s west gate. Between the hills to Edmund’s right, Pond, Abby, and Becky sat in a wagon, waiting for the signal.

Hendrick tensed, bow at the ready.

“Patience,” Edmund whispered to him.

“What if this doesn’t work?” one of the guards asked.

“It will,” Edmund replied, though he wasn’t sure he believed it himself. “Don’t underestimate Mr. Pond. But if it doesn’t work, you know what to do.” His own grip tightened around the hilt of his black-bladed short sword. “Hush. They’re getting closer.”

He gestured to Pond.

Down in the wagon, Pond snapped the reins. His team of horses pulled the wagon out from between the hills and along the riverbank.

The wagon lurched onto the snow-and-leaf-covered path, headed southward, bumping over rocks toward the band of knights. Immediately the knights called them to a halt. Pond reined in his horses directly below Edmund and the guards of Rood hidden among the trees.

“Who are you?” the lead knight shouted to Pond and Abby. “And whom do you serve?”

“I’m … Mr. … Horgenswagle,” Pond called back.

Hidden behind a bush, Edmund clapped his hand to his forehead and groaned.

“And we serve King Lionel.” Then Pond added, “Or at least we serve him as much as a lowly traveling merchant and his beautiful wife can serve His Royal Highness.”

Come on, Pond! Don’t blow this!

“Splendid!” The lead knight checked his horse in front of their wagon. “Splendid, indeed!”

Becky bared her teeth, growling, but stopped when Abby stroked her head.

The other knights gathered around, but wedged between the steep forested slopes and the icy waters of the River Bygwen, they didn’t have much room to maneuver, especially if they tried to pass Pond’s wagon.

“Well then, my good man,” the lead knight continued with a cautious eye on Becky. “You may indeed serve His Majesty if you would be so kind as to give us some information.”

Stray snowflakes floated from the sky. The knights watched them with obvious apprehension.

“My wife and I would be more than happy to help in any way we can,” Pond replied.

Come on, Pond. Don’t be so stiff. Act like a traveling merchant!

“Then tell us—where are we? Our maps of this region appear to be outdated. There’s supposed to be a road following this river.”

“Where’re you trying to go?” Pond asked in forced puzzlement.

“We are searching for the chief city in this region,” the lead knight replied. “It’s called Rood, I believe.”

Pond laughed loudly.

Pond! What are you doing? Act more naturally!

“Rood!” Pond said with even more theatrical laughter. “Why, you are horribly lost!”

At this, an irritated Abby quickly took over.

“I’m so sorry, my lord.” She curtsied slightly to the knights. “What my husband is trying to say is we believe you are following the wrong river.”

“The wrong river?” the lead knight repeated in dismay. His company complained and muttered, breath puffing in the cold air. “Is this not the River Bygwen?”

Pond opened his mouth, but Abby shushed him.

“No, my lord. You’re a bit off your mark, I’m afraid.”

Grumbling intensified.

“That would explain why there isn’t a road here,” one of the knights said to their leader. “Least ways, one that isn’t overgrown with trees.”

“Damn our lack of preparations!” another knight said, fists clenched. Then, noticing Abby’s discomfort, he bowed in his saddle. “Pardon me, my lady. We’ve been riding without proper maps or guidance for several weeks now, and my frustration got the better of my judgment. Please forgive my language.”

“Your frustration is understandable, my lords,” Abby replied. “There aren’t many roads this far north. It is quite easy to get lost amongst these hills and lakes.”

“And this blasted snow doesn’t help either.” A third knight swatted at the falling flakes as if they were flies. “We can’t tell if we’re following a road or a deer path!”

“I dare say, we’ll see a good deal more if we don’t resolve this business quickly,” a fourth said. “I hear it gets as high as a man’s head in these parts.”

The lead knight lifted a hand, gesturing for his comrades to calm themselves.

“Fair lady.” His horse pawed at the snow covering the rocks. “Could you or your husband please help us correct our error? Where is this Rood? Have you been there?”

“Yes, my lord. My husband and I left there five days ago.”

The knight’s murmurs turned more agreeable.

“Five days,” the lead knight said, delighted. “Well, that is good tidings, indeed! We’d feared we were lost well beyond that. So, if you are able, please tell us: how do we reach the city?”

“Of course, my lord,” Abby said. “If you take the path we were following, it’ll lead you right there.”

The knights fidgeted.

“Forgive me, my lady,” the lead knight said. “But we can’t see any paths under these leaves and snow. Perhaps you can tell us some landmarks by which we may steer?”

“Oh!” Abby said with an embarrassed giggle. “Yes. Yes, of course. I’m terribly sorry. How stupid of me.”

“Not at all.” The knight smiled.

“Yes, well, if you turn right here …” Abby pointed to the gap between the hills from which Pond had driven the wagon. “And you go straight eastward …”

The knights peered in that direction. Edmund and the guards ducked behind the brush.

“… you’ll eventually come to the River Bygwen. If you follow it north toward the mountains, you’ll reach the city. At the river, you’ll see signs. The road to Rood is well marked.”

One of the knights clasped his hands together, then raised them to the grey sky. “At last! I thought we’d never find the accursed place.”

“Please, my lady,” the lead knight continued. “I have one more question, if you don’t mind.”

“I’m only happy to help.”

“Very good. Now, we have a rather large party coming up from the south—fifty wagons in all.”

“Fifty wagons!” Abby gasped.

Up the slope, Edmund cursed to himself.

Fifty wagons! They’re more prepared for winter than we are.

So much for your asinine plan.

“Yes, my lady,” the lead knight said, “and we require a large enough area to bivouac them.”

“Well, if you go east about a day’s ride”—Abby pointed eastward—“you’ll come to a meadow along a large lake. The meadow is rolling but flat enough for wagons, and the surrounding hills will shield you from the northern winds.”

“You know what bivouac means?” one knight said, surprised.