Doing some digging o their own, grunted Dow.
Always was thorough, was Bethod, said Dogman. Taking his time. Doing it right.
Logen nodded. Make sure none of us get away.
Dogman heard the sound of Crummocks laughter behind him. Getting away wasnt ever the purpose o this, though, eh?
Bethods own standard was going up now, near to the back but still towering over the others. Huge great thing, red circle on black. Dogman frowned at it, flapping in the breeze. He remembered seeing it months ago, back in Angland. Back when Threetrees had still been alive, and Cathil too. He worked his tongue round his sour mouth.
King o the fucking Northmen, he muttered.
A few men came out from the front, where they were digging, started walking up towards the wall. Five of em, all in good armour, the one at the front with his arms spread out wide.
Jawing time, muttered Dow, then gobbed down into the ditch. They came up close, the five, up in front of the patched-up gate, mail coats shining dull in the brightening sun. The first of em had long white hair and one white eye, and werent too hard to remember. White-Eye Hansul. He looked older than he used to, but didnt they all? Hed been the one to ask Threetrees to surrender, at Uffrith, and been told to piss off. Hed had shit thrown down on him at Heonan. Hed offered duels to Black Dow, and to Tul Duru, and to Harding Grim. Duels against Bethods champion. Duels against the Bloody-Nine. Hed done a lot of talking for Bethod, and hed told a lot o lies.
That Shite-Eye Hansul down there? jeered Black Daw at him. Still sucking on Bethods cock, are you?
The old warrior grinned up at them. Mans got to feed his family somehow, dont he, and one cock tastes pretty much like another, if you ask me! Dont pretend like your mouths aint all tasted salty enough before!
He had some kind of point there, the Dogman had to admit. Theyd all fought for Bethod themselves, after all. Whatre you after, Hansul? he shouted. Bethod want to surrender to us, does he?
Youd have thought so, wouldnt you, outnumbered like he is, but thats not why Im here. Hes ready to fight, just like always, but Im more of a talker than a fighter, and I talked him into giving you all a chance. I got two sons down there, in with the rest, and call me selfish but Id rather not have em in harms way. Im hoping we can maybe talk our way clear of this.
Dont seem too likely! shouted Dogman, but give it a go if you must, Ive got nothing else pressing on today!
Heres the thing, then! Bethod dont particularly want to waste time, and sweat, and blood on climbing your little shit-pile of a wall. Hes got business with the Southerners he wants to get settled. Its scarcely worth the breath of pointing out the bastard of a fix youre in. Weve got the numbers moren ten to one, I reckon. Much more, and youve no way out. Bethod says any man wants to give up now can go in peace. All he has to do is give over his weapons.
And his head soon afterwards, eh? barked Dow.
Hansul took a big breath in, like he hardly expected to be believed. Bethod says any man wants to can go free. Thats his word.
Fuck his word! Dow sneered at him, and down the walls men jeered and spat their support. Dyou think we aint all seen him break it ten times before? I done shits worth more!
Lies, o course, chuckled Crummock, but its traditional, no? To get a bit o lying done, before we get started on the hard work. Youd feel insulted if he didnt give it some kind of a try at least. Any man, is it? he called down. What about Crummock-i-Phail, can he go free? What about the Bloody-Nine?
Hansuls face sagged at the name. Its true then? Ninefingers is up there, is he?
Dogman felt Logen come up beside and show himself on the wall. White-Eye turned pale, and his shoulders slumped. Well, Dogman heard him saying quiet, it has to be blood, then.
Logen leaned lazily on the parapet, and he gave Hansul and his Carls a look. That hungry, empty look, like he was picking which one of a herd o sheep to slaughter first. You can tell Bethod well come out. He left a pause. Once weve killed the fucking lot o you.
A ripple of laughter went down the walls, and men jeered and shook their weapons in the air. Not funny words, particularly, but hard ones, which was what they all needed to hear, Dogman reckoned. Good way to get rid of their fear, for a moment. He even managed half a smile himself.
White-Eye just stood there, in front of their rickety gate, and he waited for the boys to go quiet. I heard you was chief of this crowd now, Dogman. So you dont have to take your orders from this blood-mad butcher no more. That your answer as well? That the way it is?
Dogman shrugged. Just what other way did you think itd be? We didnt come here to talk, Hansul. You can piss off back, now.
Some more laughter, and some more cheers, and one lad down at Shivers end of the wall pulled his trousers down and stuck his bare arse over the parapet. So that was that for the negotiations.
White-Eye shook his head. Alright, then. Ill tell him. Back to the mud with the lot o you, I reckon, and well earned. You can tell the dead I tried, when you meet em! He started picking his way back down the valley, the four Carls behind him.
Logen loomed forward, all of a sudden. Ill be looking for your sons, Hansul! he screamed, spit flying out his snarling, grinning mouth and away into the wind, When the work begins! You can tell Bethod Im waiting! Tell em all Ill be waiting!
A strange stillness fell on the wall and the men upon it, on the valley and the men within it. That kind of stillness that comes sometimes, before a battle, when both sides know what to expect. The same stillness that Logen had felt at Carleon, before he drew his sword and roared for the charge. Before he lost his finger. Before he was the Bloody-Nine. Long ago, when things were simpler.
Bethods ditch was deep enough for him, and the Thralls had put away their shovels and moved behind it. The Dogman had climbed the steps back to the tower, no doubt taken up his bow beside Grim and Tul, and was waiting. Crummock was behind the wall with his Hillmen, lined up fierce and ready. Dow was with his lads on the left. Red Hat was with his boys on the right. Shivers wasnt far from Logen, both of them stood above the gate, waiting.
The standards down in the valley flapped and rustled gently in the wind. A hammer clanged once, twice, three times in the fortress behind them. A bird called, high above. A man whispered, somewhere, then was still. Logen closed his eyes, and tipped his face back, and he felt the hot sun and the cool breeze of the High Places on his skin. All as quiet as if hed been alone, and there were no ten thousand men about him eager to set to killing one another. So still, and calm, he almost smiled. Was this what life would have been, if hed never held a blade?
For the length of three breaths or so, Logen Ninefingers was a man of peace.
Then he heard the sound of men moving, and he opened his eyes. Bethods Carls shuffled to the sides of the valley, rank after rank of them, with a crunching of feet and a rattling of gear. They left a rocky path, an open space through their midst. Out of that gap black shapes came, swarming over the ditch like angry ants from a broken nest, boiling up the slope towards the wall in a formless mass of twisted limbs, and snarling mouths and scraping claws.
Shanka, and even Logen had never seen half so many in one place. The valley crawled with thema gibbering, clattering, squawking infestation.
By the fucking dead, someone whispered.
Logen wondered if he should shout something to the men on the walls around him. If he should cry, Steady!, or Hold!. Something to help put some heart in his lads, the way a leader was meant to. But what would have been the point? Every one of them had fought before and knew his business. Every one of them knew that it was fight or die, and there was no better spur to a mans courage than that.