Blood in the Water (54 page)

Karn supposed that was reason enough to keep Duke Iruvain alive if he could, for the moment at least. He watched a mounted messenger negotiate the narrow paths winding between the clumps of trees on the valley’s side. Reaching more open ground by the river, the man lashed his horse into a gallop. He forced his horse to swim the river and cut behind the first bridge between the weary remnants of Triolle’s forces holding the road. His blue sash bright over his black and green livery, he swiftly carried fresh orders to the Parnilesse mercenaries holding their far-left flank.

Karn didn’t think they’d be troubled any time soon. The Parnilesse mounted mercenaries had halted the charge by Marlier’s cavalry and the Dalasorian lancers supporting them. They were fighting hand to hand, horses biting and kicking. The Dalasorian horse archers supposedly supporting Marlier could only vacillate some distance behind. Any arrows risked killing friends as readily as foes.

The Triolle mercenary companies holding the road had no such concerns. Their bowmen were sending flight after flight of shafts into the Marlier foot soldiers. The Vixen’s rabble were already advancing more slowly than the exiles’ mercenaries on their left hand. How far would their battle line bend before Lord Geferin could try breaking it?

How were their horsemen faring on the other end of the battle line? Karn looked northwards, towards the byway that cut eastwards to the ford across the river. From this vantage point Lord Geferin had chosen, on the southern edge of the coppiced woods, Karn could just make out the fierce fighting between Dalasorian lancers and the Parnilesse mounted regiments. Lord Geferin’s horse were holding their own.

Karn contemplated the Soluran’s regiments steadily advancing to the river. He wasn’t at all sure which mercenary companies now fought for the enemy. Without Master Hamare to coordinate Triolle’s enquiry agents, the reports reaching Duke Iruvain had been fragmentary and confusing. Worse, Lord Geferin made scant use of his scouts and shared little of their news with Duke Iruvain. Karn wasn’t impressed.

At least the Parnilesse lord had insisted his own retinue and Duke Iruvain’s assemble as one on the battlefield. Duke Iruvain chose to interpret this as belated respect for his superior rank. Karn suspected Lord Geferin simply wanted Iruvain on a short leash. Karn had no qualms about cutting them both free if needs must. In the meantime, he could unobtrusively edge his horse close enough to the Parnilesse lieutenants to hear the gallopers’ reports.

Lord Geferin raised a hand to silence a man who’d raced along the Parnilesse lines as the exiles’ foot regiments began fording the river.

“Tell the Flintstrikers’ captain to fall back to the woodland. That will frustrate any attempt by their lancers to charge.” The Parnilesse lord spoke distinctly, so his clerk could write his words down. “He must hold the line of the byway to make sure we’re not outflanked.”

Karn was relieved the Parnilesse lord was alert to the potential threat of those lancers. Better yet, the Flintstrikers’ Captain Shalmay was one of the most quick-witted commanders wearing Parnilesse colours.

“Tell the captains of the Inchra militia to come forward out of the woodland,” Lord Geferin continued. “They’re to hold their ground on the Flintstrikers’ right or they’ll answer for their cowardice to me,” he added ominously.

Karn hoped that would stiffen their resolve, if the shock of battle struck hard. Parnilesse’s militias might be fresh but they’d not yet been tested like the survivors of Carluse and Tyrle. Well, Lord Geferin’s wrath was deservedly feared. Even the rawest unblooded recruit should prefer standing against Dalasorian lances to facing that.

“They’re crossing the river!” All Duke Iruvain’s attention was on the centre of the battlefield. He beckoned and Karn hurried to his side.

“My compliments to Lord Geferin,” he said through gritted teeth. “Might his archers care to follow Triolle’s excellent example?” He pointed to the mercenaries behind the first bridge where the high road crossed the two streams. Their arrows were dropping Marlier’s swordsmen to the muddy ground, slowing their advance still more.

“Your Grace.” Karn dutifully bowed his head and rode for Lord Geferin. He waited until two anxious messengers had delivered fresh news and departed with their instructions.

“What is it?” Lord Geferin’s gaze slid towards Duke Iruvain.

Karn chose his words carefully. “His Grace of Triolle is wondering when the archers in our central ranks will curb the exiles’ advance.”

Lord Geferin’s lip curled with amusement. “You may thank His Grace for his concern. He can safely leave ordering this battle to me. Each mercenary captain’s company is doing just as I wish. As they will continue to do,” he added with a curious smile. “Duke Orlin’s coffers of gold are safe in Parnilesse, unlike Duke Iruvain’s lead-tainted silver now being counted by those exiles in Triolle Castle.” He spoke loudly enough to be heard by everyone close at hand.

Karn’s warning glare curbed the indignation of the closest Triolle lieutenants, Lord Roreth chief among them. He wasn’t about to see victory handed to the Soluran because Iruvain’s fool of a brother started a fight with Lord Geferin’s personal guard. Besides, the Parnilesse lord wasn’t wrong. Triolle had no coin to buy anyone’s loyalty.

He bowed to Lord Geferin’s unheeding back. “I will take your assurances to His Grace.”

As Karn rode up, Duke Iruvain didn’t appear to have heard Lord Geferin’s insulting remarks. Huddled in his fur-lined cloak, he was still intent on the battle.

“What did he say?” he demanded

“The archers in the centre of our line are responding.” Karn gestured towards the battle. Let Iruvain flatter himself that was on his account.

Parnilesse bowmen were now taking full advantage of the cover the scrubland offered as they loosed a hailstorm of arrows at the Soluran’s foot soldiers. The exiles’ archers were hanging back behind the advancing companies, replying as best they could. But they were sorely exposed in the wet meadows and dodging Parnilesse arrows made their own volleys horribly ragged. They hadn’t been able to fashion nearly enough of the woven lath shields that archers usually favoured.

The enemy’s mercenaries knew they would only frustrate the Parnilesse bowmen by closing the gap between them. They pressed forward only to find themselves mired. An unnoticed brook threaded all along the foot of the wooded slope and turned the meadow almost to swamp there.

“That water must be near freezing.” Iruvain turned to Karn with sudden surprise. “Aren’t you cold? You’re not even wearing a cloak.”

“I’ve a padded tunic under my hauberk.” Karn rarely paid heed to such things. He’d survived harsher weather than this as a starving child.

Satisfied their centre was holding, he looked briefly to the north. The Dalasorians were gaining no ground against the Parnilesse horse. Better yet, the Soluran’s foot troops were now advancing past that skirmish. If the Parnilesse horse could break through, they could cut right around behind the enemy’s line.

Karn looked back towards the bridge. The Marlier mercenaries were now returning more consistent bow fire but they hadn’t advanced by so much as a plough’s length. Presumably some company captain was alert to the dangers of the second cavalry battle that was still raging at that southern end of the field. If the Parnilesse horse broke through there, Marlier’s foot soldiers would have to wheel around double-quick to avoid being stabbed in the back.

There was no denying Lord Geferin’s skill as a general. Which made it all the more urgent Karn decide what to do for the best, as soon as the battle was won.

Karn looked at the Triolle mercenaries and their militia regiments securing the high road on the far side of the river and the second bridge over the stream. How quickly could he and Iruvain gather up those men and take to the highway ahead of the Parnilesse lord and his retinue?

“Your Grace,” he said quietly. “Once the day is won, we should make every effort to catch up with Duchess Litasse and her escort. Lord Geferin can clear up the mess here.”

“And hand him all the glory, inside Triolle’s borders?” Duke Iruvain objected. “Why such haste just to reassure Litasse?” he hissed with contempt.

“You have shown admirable restraint, every time his lordship has exceeded his authority,” Karn said carefully. “I don’t believe you need humour him by accepting Duke Orlin’s hospitality. There are other refuges open to you both, just until Triolle’s reclaimed,” he added quickly as Duke Iruvain frowned ominously. “One of those might suit you better than Parnilesse Castle. After all, we’ll be hunting fugitives through both halves of winter, until you’ve brought peace back to your people.”

“Yes, we will.” Iruvain tried to look as if he had thought the same all along.

“Lord Geferin may like to think defeating this Soluran today will end this exiles’ revolt.” Karn lowered his voice, confiding. “Your forbearance in not pointing out his folly is commendable, Your Grace.”

“What refuge are you suggesting?” the duke asked slowly.

“Why not travel north to Draximal Castle?” Karn looked guilelessly at him. “Duke Secaris will surely wish to hear the true tale of his son’s last moments, to honour your valour on that terrible day.”

Iruvain’s face twisted with misery. “Unless he blames me for Lord Cassat’s death.”

“Your Grace, a hundred men can say that’s not so,” protested Karn. “Besides, think of Her Grace. Doesn’t she deserve some respite amid friends? Duke Secaris was an ally of Duke Moncan since before her birth.”

Iruvain looked thoughtful. “There’s every chance he’d welcome her for her father’s sake.”

“With Duchess Litasse there, so close to the dukedom’s borders, and Duke Moncan’s eldest surviving child besides,” Karn mused, “do you suppose Sharlac’s vassal lords would rally to her, if she begged them to rescue her mother?”

Iruvain nodded with grim satisfaction. “That would give Duke Orlin and his ambitious brother pause.”

A flurry of horn calls interrupted them.

“What’s happening?” Iruvain scanned the battlefield, alarmed.

Karn made a more measured assessment. “Northwards, Your Grace, look.”

Beyond the byway, the Dalasorians had put Parnilesse’s mounted mercenaries to flight. Companies of mercenary foot soldiers had crossed the river to emerge from a crease in the land, following up this advantage.

“His precious cavalry are in full flight!” Iruvain was clearly torn between satisfaction at this setback for Geferin and a degree of apprehension.

“It’s not as bad as it seems.” Karn watched the mounted mercenaries turning tail for the north, keenly pursued by the lancers. “They’re leading those Dalasorians away from the battle and those enemy foot soldiers will be hard put to threaten our flank.”

The grassy meadow between the newly visible enemy mercenaries and the woods where the Flintstrikers lay in wait with the Parnilesse militia was now a morass of mud and blood, of dying men and horses, a formidable barrier to any advance by the Soluran’s forces.

But Duke Iruvain was looking at the southern end of the battlefield. “See, there! Is Marlier about to break?”

Parnilesse fortunes were wholly in the ascendant. The Marlier cavalry were fleeing southwards, routed. Horsemen in Parnilesse black and green mercilessly pursued them. The Dalasorians could only retreat towards the dubious safety of their original position on the far side of the valley.

The abrupt end to this cavalry skirmish left the right flank of Marlier’s mercenaries wholly exposed. Those Parnilesse mercenaries who’d been waiting behind their mounted allies by the highway were already moving forwards. The Triolle mercenaries were making ready to advance too, their archers still raining down murderous arrows. Marlier’s bowmen were replying as best they could but Karn could see the rest of the foot soldiers wavering.

“Ferdain’s whore must be regretting her treachery,” Duke Iruvain said with vicious satisfaction.

Karn remembered Lord Geferin’s smile, so smug and secretive, as he boasted of Duke Orlin’s gold. He studied the battle lines. Were Marlier’s regiments about to retreat, rather than rout? An astonishing possibility struck him.

“Unless Ridianne has been taking Parnilesse coin all along, in order to secure our victory by turning her coat in this battle.”

Duke Iruvain gaped at him. “Do you really think so?”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Tathrin

The Battle of Pannal,

in the Lescari Dukedom of Triolle,

1st of For-Winter

He patted his horse’s foam-flecked neck. The bay gelding was sweating though Tathrin’s fingers and toes still ached perversely with cold. His arms and thighs burned with the effort of controlling the horse amid the chaos.

Thankfully the snorting beast was calming down. He’d been able to give it its head as it thought it was fleeing the noise and the stink of battle. The ride up the incline towards Evord’s standard had slowed its wild gallop and he’d been able to get it in hand.

The captain-general was surrounded by riders from all over the battlefield. Their horses were muddied to the hocks, a few splashed with blood, their eyes rimmed with white. Some were led away, their riders offered fresh mounts brought up by the farriers.