‘My lands are safer than you might expect, Highness,’ Leesha said. ‘Without their spears, there aren’t enough of them to cause a real problem, especially with their wives and children in tow. The Krasians bring gifts and goods to trade, with the promise of more. Let them do business, and send merchant spies of your own in return. If we cannot avert war, it is in our best interest to delay it while we build our forces and learn our enemies’ ways.’
Thamos wiped the frustration from his face, losing most of the tension in his shoulders. ‘Mother said you’d be like this.’
Leesha smiled. ‘The Duchess Mum knows me well. She is in good health, I presume?’
Thamos seemed to brighten a bit at the mention of his mother. ‘Not as vital as she once was, but I think in the end she will outlive us all.’
Leesha nodded. ‘Some women have too much will to die before their work is done.’
‘Mother sends her regards,’ Thamos went on. ‘And gifts.’
‘Gifts?’ Leesha asked.
‘First things first,’ Thamos said, turning his gaze on Gared. ‘Gared Cutter?’
Gared stepped forth. ‘Ay, Yur Highness?’
Arther took a small scroll from his podium and broke the seal, unrolling it to read: ‘“Gared Cutter, son of Steave of the village of Cutter’s Hollow, in the name of His Grace, Duke Rhinebeck the Third, Wearer of the Ivy Crown, Protector of the Forest Fortress and Duke of Angiers, you are hereby requested and required, in the year three hundred and thirty-three after the Return, to assume the rank of captain of the Cutters in service to His Grace, and the title of Squire at court. You will be given a district of the Hollow to oversee and tax for the upkeep of your household, and report only to His Highness Lord Thamos, Marshal of the Wooden Soldiers.” Do you accept this honour, and this duty?’
A wide grin split Gared’s face. ‘Captain, eh? Squire?’
‘Do. Not. Accept,’ Leesha said through gritted teeth. It was a meaningless title. Gared was already the leader of the Cutters. This was all just a ploy to get him to swear fealty to the crown, and admit that the Cutters were part of Rhinebeck’s army and not a private force.
Gared chuckled. ‘Don’t worry. Not gonna.’
He looked up at the count. ‘Thanks all the same, Yur Highness, but there’s a lot more Cutters in the Hollow than Wooden Soldiers.’
Everyone in the room tensed. Thamos’ hand found the haft of his spear. ‘And just what are you saying, Mr Cutter?’
Gared thrust his chin at Gamon. ‘Corespawned if I’ll be the same rank as that pissant. Wanna be general. And … ay, like a baron or something.’
Gamon scowled, but Thamos nodded. ‘Done.’ Leesha put her face in her hand, feeling her temple throb again.
‘Idiot,’ Rojer whispered for her ears only.
Thamos rose and pointed his spear at Gared. ‘Kneel.’
Gared gave Leesha a triumphant grin and stepped forward, falling to one knee. Thamos laid his speartip on the Cutter’s burly shoulder. Tender Hayes came forward as well, holding out a worn but beautiful leather-bound book, its cover illuminated in gold leaf. ‘Place your right hand on the Canon, my son.’
Gared did, his eyes closed.
‘Do you swear fealty to His Highness, Count Thamos of Hollow County, answering to him and no other, from now until your death?’
‘Ay,’ Gared said.
‘Do you swear to uphold his law,’ Hayes went on, ‘to administer fair justice to your subjects, the people of Cutter’s Hollow, and to smite its enemies?’
‘Ay,’ Gared said. ‘And twice for the last.’
Thamos gave a grim smile. ‘By the power given me by my brother, Duke Rhinebeck, Wearer of the Ivy Crown, Protector of the Forest Fortress and Lord of All Angiers, I name you General Gared of the Cutters, Baron of Cutter’s Hollow. You may rise.’
Gared got to his feet, taller than the count even with Thamos standing on his dais. The count gestured to the Butchers. ‘A uniform and armour will be provided for you. Please confer with your lieutenants after the audience and prepare your troops for muster and inspection. The Butchers have handled elevating most of the petty officers, but you of course can change their decisions if you feel it necessary.’ His tone made that sound like a terrible idea.
‘Ay,’ Gared nodded, sticking his hand out. ‘Thanks.’
Thamos looked at the hand as if Gared had just wiped himself with it, but he shrugged and shook it all the same. ‘I know you will do great honour to the ivy throne, General Cutter.’
Gared smiled a wide grin. ‘General Cutter. Like the sound of that.’
Thamos grunted. ‘And so, General, what is your assessment of the Krasian army?’
‘Big, like Leesha says,’ Gared said, ‘but scattered. They’ll get here eventually, but it’ll be a while. Got time to get ready for ’em.’
‘So you agree with Mistress Leesha that they should have free run of the Hollow?’
Gared shook his head. ‘I’d keep an eye on ’em, sure. But I seen ’em fight, corelings and men, and there’s no denyin’ they got a lot more practice at it than us. They sent men to teach us tricks to killin’ demons. Think we’d be fools not to let ’em.’
‘Very well,’ Thamos said. ‘Have your men escort the caravan to Mistress Paper’s land. Keep men posted on the border. Train with the Sharum, but they are to be under watch at all times, two to one.’
‘Three to one, we’re smart,’ Gared said.
Thamos nodded. ‘Do as you think best, General.’
How do I keep getting myself into messes like this? Rojer thought.
But he had no choice but to speak. He’d be corespawned if he was going to start camping in Leesha’s backyard when there was a fine room waiting for him at Smitt’s.
Rojer cleared his throat loudly, and all eyes turned to him. ‘What about my wives? Can they at least stay in town?’
‘Your heathen marriage means nothing here,’ Tender Hayes cut in. ‘Taking more than one wife is an abomination. The Creator will not recognize it.’
Rojer shrugged. ‘It may mean nothing to you, Tender, but that doesn’t mean a corespawned thing to me. I said my vows.’
‘And failing to recognize the union would insult the Krasians beyond measure,’ Leesha added.
Hayes looked ready to retort, but Thamos silenced him with a wave. ‘You get one wife in Angiers, Mr Inn. Pick one. If you want the other to live in your chambers and warm your bed, the servants won’t ask any questions.’
‘Chambers?’ Rojer asked. ‘Servants?’
Thamos nodded. ‘I ask that you serve me as your master did my brother, as royal herald of the Hollow.’
Rojer kept his Jongleur’s mask in place, though his shock could not have been more complete if Thamos had turned a somersault and broken into song. He remembered what it was like, back when Arrick had been royal herald of Duke Rhinebeck. Gold and wine flowed in equal measure, and he and Rojer wore the finest silks and suede. Lords and ladies alike had bowed to Arrick as an equal, and his voice carried the power of the throne behind it as he ranged far and wide. They had rich apartments in the duke’s own manse, and access to his exclusive brothel. Arrick had spent almost every night there, and left young Rojer in the ladies’ care when he was away, or drunk, or with a woman.
In other words, almost every night.
But all of that had ended in an instant, when Rhinebeck had stumbled drunk into the bed of his favourite whore, where Rojer was fast asleep. In his inebriated state, the man hadn’t known the difference, yanking down Rojer’s bedclothes and casually overpowering his struggles.
‘Like to play the unwilling, eh, lass?’ the duke had slurred, his breath reeking of alcohol. He chuckled. ‘It will do you no good. Best bend and take it. Be over quick.’
It was only when Rojer cried out and elbowed him in his fat stomach, leaping from the bed, that the duke had roused and lit the lamp. He found Rojer quivering across the room, holding a small knife as he yanked his bedclothes back up.