How are we doing, Sergeant?
Ruther stroked his chin. Considering the pounding the gates taking, better than I expected. No ones dead, just broken bones and cuts from flying stones.
How long?
Ruther didnt need to ask what he meant. Three days at best, two more likely; if they get busy, less than that. He paused then added, We need to think about getting the women and children out.
Martin sighed, near exhaustion. I know. Is the tunnel ready?
After the Tsurani siege of the castle, Martins namesake, the first Duke Martin, had ordered an escape tunnel built deep under the keep, far below any that might be dug by incoming sappers. It ran far beyond the clearing to the east, into the heavy forest. The exit was fully disguised by carefully placed boulders surrounding a door-sized rock that had been artfully crafted to look like a solid boulder, but was hollow at the back.
I had the boys down there yesterday ensuring the timbers were still sound and the stone door that hides the entrance can be moved. It will take a couple of stout lads and a long piece of wood to move that door, but itll be ready when we need it.
Good, said Martin. Im just not certain how well get everyone out and when.
The how is your burden, sir, but the when is soon. He looked at Martin, took in the dark shadow beneath his eyes. You look all in, lad, he said, though he was in no better shape. Why dont you try to get some rest, at least an hour?
Thank you, Sergeant, said Martin. He knew the old soldier was right. He was exhausted and not thinking clearly. He half-staggered to his room and fell across his bed without taking his boots off. In a few minutes he was asleep, unmindful of the dull thud of stones striking the gate outside.
Martin awoke to soft lips pressing against his. His eyes opened wide. Huh?
He found Bethany leaning over him.
You are needed. I thought that was the best way to rouse you.
Flushing, Martin said, I am roused. What is it?
Your mother needs you. She turned towards the door. As she reached it, she glanced over her shoulder and added, As do I, and left.
Martin sat there half-asleep, slightly giddy, and confused. If he lived through the next few days he would wonder about how he had become the object of affection for the woman he adored.
He had always felt there was something between them, but every time he had dared to imagine what it might be, he had pushed away the thoughts as the idle dreaming of a fool. Now he wondered how things could suddenly change so dramatically. Why did he feel like grinning like a loon when the world was crumbling around him?
He straightened his tunic and hurried to his parents quarters which his mother was currently sharing with Bethany, her mother, and half a dozen ladies from the village and their dozen children. The room had always seemed capacious to Martin as a child, being the largest sleeping chamber in the keep with its huge bed, settee, large rugs and wall hangings, but now it seemed small and cramped.
Duchess Caralin motioned for her son to come to her when he entered the room, and took his hands in hers. How are you, Martin? Her face was a mask of concern. He knew that look. She worried about him more than his brothers, and had done ever since childhood. He was not as confident as Hal or as reckless as Brendan, and as the middle child had often been neglected while his father saw to the eldest and his mother cared for the youngest.
He smiled, though he felt as if he could drop back to sleep just standing there. Im fine, Mother. What is it you need?
We have people getting sick in the rear yard. Its not bad now, but it will get worse. Collected together tightly as they were, the people of Crydee were ripe to be taken by disease, from something relatively mild like belly flux to something lethal like the red plague or spotted madness. Softly she added, We must think about getting those who are the most sick away from here.
Where would we take them, and how would they get there?
Elvandar, she suggested. Your father will surely be coming quickly from Jonril, and the healers will be with him, but many of these people will be dying or dead if we dont get them help soon. Suddenly, she shuddered.
Martin stared at her, alarmed. Mother, what is it?
She lowered her voice and whispered, Ague.
Martin closed his eyes for a second. Several different things could be ague, but those who had it would have the same symptoms: fevers with sweats, then chills, a terrible thirst and if not treated, hallucinations. If these combined with other problems, death was possible. Usually if someone was struck down they went to bed for seven to ten days and were tended by their friends or family in the town. But here ague could leave the garrison incapacitated within days.
If were going to get them out, we must do so before they become too weak to travel. Ill instruct Sergeant Ruther to get things organized. Well have them out at sunset. He paused, then added, I would like you, Countess Marriann and Lady Bethany to go as well.
No, said his mother flatly. These are my people; this is my home. If you stay, I will stay.
He held up his hand. Mother, please. Someone needs to take care of the sick and I can not imagine anyone better suited, and it would ease my mind if you and Earl Roberts family were out of harms way.
His mother looked at him askance. Is that so?
Yes, he replied, not understanding her question. Moreover, if you wont go, I must send Ruther to lead the escape, and I need him here.
Very well, she said. Youre enough like your grandfather when it comes to having your mind made up that Ill not argue.
He kissed her on the cheek. Fathers father or your father?
Frowning slightly she said, Both.
That made him smile. He kissed her cheek again and departed.
Exhaustion was taking its toll, yet whenever the young commander walked by people nodded in greeting and the soldiers saluted. Martin was uncertain what it was he had done to earn their regard, then as he was leaving the familys wing of the keep and entering the main hall, he realized what it was; they wanted him to succeed. Because if he did so, they would survive. If he failed, they all failed.
Moving through the crowded main hall, with women and children occupying every available space on the floor, took him a few minutes, with several of the towns women smiling or addressing him directly, Sir, Lord Martin; one even called him Highness!
This caused him a momentary pause. He had presumed to name himself prince in the face of Keshs commander in the field, a self-aggrandizement avoided for generations by his family. His great-great-grandfather for whom he had been named was brother to the King, and he and his son Marcus were both princes of the Kingdom in rank by birth, but Marcus had never chosen to employ the title, nor had his son the first Duke Henry, or Martins father, the second Duke Henry. Hal would be the third Duke Henry but the present king was a very distant cousin at best and the only thing that distinguished Martin, his brothers, and their father from a score of other distant cousins to the King was that they were conDoins. The first Martin had been born a bastard, but recognized and named by his father before his death, therefore he was of royal blood.
Martin shook his head. He must be suffering from fatigue to let his mind wander so.
Martin shook his head. He must be suffering from fatigue to let his mind wander so.
The day dragged on and the pounding of the gate continued through the night. As the false dawn approached in the east, Martin hurried out and got as close to the gate as was safe to see how the Keshians were doing. As he stood at the entrance to the keep a soldier came to stand beside him: a thin, rangy fellow named Means, recently promoted to sergeant from corporal.
Wheres Ruther? asked Martin.
Oh, finally got him to get some sleep, sir. I can fetch him if you need.
No, let him sleep. Another stone crashed into the gate with a resounding thud, and Martin heard a splintering sound and saw the timbers reinforcing the gate shudder. What do you think?
Not my job, sir, said Means.
A born sergeant, Martin laughed.
If you mean when do I think the gate will give out, then two days, maybe less. Wed better be ready to fight any time after sun-up tomorrow.
Martin nodded. Half the stone surrounding the gates was shattered and cracked, the tops of the walls on both sides sheered to rubble. Men could not stand and fight within half a dozen yards of the gate on either side, for there was no sheltered footing left. Should the Keshians bring a fire ram against the wooden gates, the defenders would be exposed if they tried to douse it and the Keshian archers would have easy targets.
He said to Means, My mother and the other ladies mean to take the sick from the keep through the escape tunnels. I need Ruther here with me, but I also need an experienced soldier to look after them. Im putting you in charge of that detail. He glanced around. We dont have much left for a stand-up fight, do we?
Oh, theyre a good lot. Your father left a few grizzled veterans mixed in with the boys. And a few of the townsmen are fairly scrappy brawlers I know that from my drinking days.
Dont drink any more?
Not to speak of, said Means. My father couldnt abide a man who couldnt hold his drink. For years I took that to mean I needed to go drink to drink with all the lads and somehow not turn into the horses ass I usually became. Would have had these stripes years ago if I hadnt been that man. So I learned that to hold their drink, some men just need not to drink that first ale. Havent had a drink in five years. Then he grinned. Still doesnt mean I havent busted a few heads down at the dock taverns in my day. He shook his head. No, these lads will give the Keshians as good as they get, maybe a bit more. This is their home, sir. This keep will be here when your father reaches us, Commander. Im certain of that.
I hope youre right, Sergeant.
Martin went back into the keep and began his routine for the day. He would conduct a personal inventory of stores, ensuring there was ample food for everyone, then hed walk each post to see how the men were, then take his place on the top of the keep to watch to see if the Keshians were doing anything different. Then he would wait.
Fire wagon! came the shout from the top of the keep and it was relayed down the stairs into the great hall. Martin had just bid his mother and the other ladies farewell before they began their journey to Elvandar. Those too sick to walk were being carried in litters and by best guess it would take a week for the party to reach the River Boundary and the elves. Martin was loath to see them leave in this condition, but he knew a garrison in the grip of even a relatively minor illness would give the Keshians one more advantage he didnt wish to give them.
Sergeant Ruther hurried in. The Keshians have launched a fire wagon at the gate, sir. They mean to be inside sooner rather than later, it seems.
Martin nodded, and turned to Sergeant Means. Get them out safely, he said. The escape tunnel led out of the lower basement beneath the kitchen pantry. Those leaving had queued up before dawn and now they were almost through.
Martin ran outside and up to a position on the wall where he could best see through the smoke at the gate. The Keshian fire wagon had been made by filling a wagon with oil-soaked wood and on top of that tightly-bundled straw. Half a dozen men ran behind it, steering as best they could with a reversed wagon-tongue. It was like steering a boat, pulling the tiller in the opposite direction to the one you wished to go in, and the Keshians made a botch of it.
The wagon had crashed into the right side of the gate, opposite where Martin stood. The fire was burning hotly, but mostly against stone. The wood of the gate on that side was smouldering and smoking, but had not yet burst into flames. Crydee soldiers quickly set about throwing buckets of water on the inside of the gate opposite the fire, to help dissipate the heat and keep the wood from burning through. Ruther came to stand beside Martin.
What do you think?
Itll weaken it a bit, but unless theyre mad enough to start sending men with oilskins to try and spread the flames to the gate, itll hold for a while longer.
Do you think theyll bring a ram after its weakened?
No. Theyll not risk it getting tangled up in all that mess, especially with flame and embers all around. Id have the lads dumping oil on them in a moment if they were foolish enough to try that, and they know it.
No, theyll wait until the flames are out and toss a few more stones to see how much damage theyve caused, then they might send another fire wagon, and Ill bet the second time theyll get it right, spot on in the middle.
Martin could only nod in agreement. He let out an exhausted sigh and wondered where his father was at that moment.
Henry, Duke of Crydee, slashed down at the goblin trying to unhorse him. The creatures green-blue face was contorted in a snarl, long fangs bared as it struck upwards at the Duke. Brendan came from behind the goblin and struck it across the base of the neck, below the chain where its skin was exposed and it collapsed.
As bad fortune would have it, they had ridden straight into a goblin raiding party moving through the Green Heart in strength. It was Henrys two hundred riders against thirty goblins on foot.
They made short work of the goblins, most of whom had turned and fled into the deep woods as soon as they realized they hadnt encountered a small garrison patrol out of Jonril. Goblin raiding parties could be very dangerous for caravans and small patrols, but a full company of heavy cavalry was more than they had bargained for.
Henry turned his mount in a half-circle. Report! he commanded his First Sergeant, Magwin.
One dead, two wounded, my lord.
Damn, said the Duke. He was nearly frantic with worry for his wife and son. I should have had riders on point.
He looked down and saw a spreading red stain on his tabard.
Father! cried Brendan. He looked down at the fallen goblin and saw that the creature was holding a blood-covered dirk. He had got close enough to the Duke to wound him.
Its nothing, said Henry, holding his side. Ill bind it and well be on His eyes rolled up and he slipped out of the saddle, hitting the ground hard before anyone could catch him.
The Duke struck the ground with the side of his head and shoulder, making an ominous cracking sound.
Brendan was at his fathers side in seconds. First Sergeant Magwin knelt there and examined the Duke, but Brendan realized his father was dead before the man spoke. Broke his neck, sir. As if it would be some consolation he said, He cant have felt a thing.