The woods around us are silent. Do monsters mourn?
Day before yesterday, the captain won a great victory over the Enemy. He took most of the company across the Cohoctorn to the south, where Master Gelfred had located a convoy coming to us. It was hard hit, but the captain’s sortie took the enemy in the rear, and destroyed them. The captain thinks we killed upwards of five hundred of the enemy, including four great monsters, to whit, three great Stone Trolls and a Behemoth.
The men say the captain killed the Behemoth himself, and that it was the greatest feat of arms they had ever seen.
Yesterday, the company stood to all day, waiting for attacks that never came. Men slept at their posts, fully armed.
Many of the farmers and as many nuns say this will be the end of the siege – that the enemy will slink away. The Abbess has called a great council of all the officers.
The Abbess had a table brought in, and the captain thought it might be the longest he’d ever seen – it filled the Great Hall from hearth to dais, space for thirty men to sit at table together.
But there were not thirty men at the table.
There were just six. And the Abbess.
The six were the captain himself, sitting in one chair with his feet on another, and Ser Jehannes, sitting upright in a third; Master Gerald Random, who by virtue of saving almost half his convoy had suddenly become the representative of all the merchants, taking another pair of chairs, and Ser Milus, as the commander of the Bridge Castle, sat with his head propped on his hands. Master Gelfred sat separately from the other men, a self-imposed social distance. And the priest, Father Henry, sat with a stylus and wax tablets, prepared to copy their decisions.
The Abbess sat to the captain’s right, flanked by two sisters, who stood. The captain understood that the two silent figures were her Chancellor and Mistress of Novices, the two most powerful offices in the convent. Sister Miram and Sister Ann.
When all the men had settled the Abbess cleared her throat. ‘Captain?’ she asked.
He took his booted feet off a chair and sat up. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘We are now, at long last, under siege. Our Enemy has finally realised how few we are, and has sealed the roads.’ He shrugged. ‘Frankly, this is a harsher defeat than any we have suffered in the field. He should have thought, after yesterday’s incredible stroke of luck-’
‘The work of God!’ Master Random said.
‘The Enemy should have assumed,’ the captain went on, ‘we had a big garrison and a lot of potent phantasm to pull off such a coup. Instead, he’s used the night to push in all my outposts. I lost three good men last night, gentlemen and ladies.’ He looked around. The cunningly hidden heavy arbalest in the dead ground hadn’t been cunning enough, and now Guillaume Longsword, one of his officers, as well as his page and archer were dead, and Young Will, as his squire was known, was weeping his guts out in the infirmary. ‘More men than we lost in yesterday’s fight,’ he went on.
The other mercenaries nodded.
‘On a more positive note, Master Random brought us a dozen men-at-arms and sixty archers.’ Of very variable quality, and every one of them ran yesterday, at one point or another. Every one but one, he remembered sourly. Ser Gawin had not yet condescended to open an eye.
‘My guildsmen are not mere archers,’ Master Random said.
The captain sat back, assessing the man. ‘I know they are not,’ he said. ‘But for the duration of the siege, Master, we must treat them as soldiers.’
Random nodded. ‘I, too, can swing a sword.’
The captain had noticed that he was wearing one, and reports had it that the merchant had acquitted himself well.
‘So,’ he went on, ‘we have forty men-at-arms well enough to wear harness, and our squires; call it sixty knights. We have almost triple that in archers, thanks to the better farmers and the guildsmen.’ He looked around. ‘Our Enemy has at least five thousand, boglins, irks, allies and men taken together.’
‘Good Christ!’ Ser Milus sat up.
Ser Jehannes looked as if he’d eaten something foul.
Master Gelfred nodded when the captain looked at him. ‘Can’t be less, given what I saw this morning,’ he said. ‘The Enemy can cover every road and every path at the same time, and they rotate their forces every few hours.’ He shrugged. ‘You can watch the boglins digging trenches out beyond the range of our trebuchets. It’s like watching termites. There are-’ he shrugged, ‘a great many termites.’
The captain looked around. ‘In addition, we have another hundred merchants and merchants’ folk, and four hundred women and children.’ He smiled. ‘In the East, I’d be sending them out right now, to fill the besieger’s lines with useless mouths.’ He looked around. ‘Here, they’d literally fill the enemy’s bellies, instead.’ No one appreciated his humour.
‘You can’t be serious!’ said the Abbess.
‘I am not. I won’t drive them out to die. But the merchants and their people must be put to work, and I’d like to assign a dozen archers and two men-at-arms to training them. If we cannot be rid of these useless mouths, we must make them useful. We have about forty days’ food for a thousand mouths. Double that at half rations’
‘And we have all that grain!’ the Abbess said.
‘Grain for two hundred and eighty days,’ he said.
‘The king will be here long before then,’ the Abbess said firmly.
‘Good day to you,’ said a voice from the door, and Harmodius, the Magus, came in. He smiled around, a little unsure of his welcome. ‘I received your invitation, but I was in the midst of a dissection. You, my lords, have a plentiful supply of candidates for dissection.’ He smiled. ‘I have learned some exciting things.’
They all stared at him as if he was a leper newly arrived at a feast. He pulled out a chair and sat.
‘There were rats in the grain, by the way,’ Harmodius said. ‘I’ve disposed of them. Do you know,’ he asked, his eyes on the Abbess, ‘who the captain of the Enemy is?’
She flinched.
‘You do, I see. Hmm.’ The old Magus didn’t look nearly so old, today. He looked closer to forty than seventy. ‘I remember you, of course, my lady.’
The Abbess trembled – just for a moment – and then forced herself to look at the Magus. The captain saw the effort it took.
‘And I you,’ the Abbess said.
‘Well, three cheers for the air of dangerous mystery,’ the captain said. ‘I for one am delighted you both know each other.’
The Magus looked at him. ‘This from you?’ He leaned forward. ‘I know who you are too, lad.’
Every head in the room snapped to look – first at the captain, and then at the Magus.
‘Do you really?’ asked the Abbess, and she clutched at the rosary around her neck. ‘Really?’
Harmodius was enjoying his moment of drama, the captain could see it. He wished he knew who the old charlatan was. As it was, he fingered his rondel dagger.
‘If you reveal me, I swear before the altar of your God I will cut you down right here,’ the captain hissed.
Harmodius laughed, and rocked his chair back. ‘You, and all the rest of you together couldn’t muss my hair,’ he said. He raised his hand.
The mercenaries were all on their feet, weapons in hand.
But then he shook his head. ‘Gentlemen!’ he said. He raised his hands. ‘I beg your pardon, Captain. Truly. I like a little surprise. I thought, perhaps – but please, never mind me, a harmless old man.’
‘Who the hell are you?’ asked the captain, across his bare blade.
The Abbess shook her head. ‘He is Harmodius di Silva, the King’s Magus. He broke the enemy at Chevin. He bound the former King’s Magus, when he betrayed us.’
‘Your lover,’ Harmodius muttered. ‘Well – one of your lovers.’
‘You were a foolish young man then, and you still are in your heart.’ The Abbess settled primly back into her seat.
‘My lady, if I am, it is because he has glamoured me for years,’ Harmodius said. ‘I was not as victorious as I had thought. And he is still with us.’ Harmodius looked around the table. ‘The captain of the Enemy, my lords, is the former King’s Magus. The most powerful of my order to arise in twenty generations.’ He shrugged. ‘Or so I suspect, and my guesswork is based on observation.’