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Edwin parried Sir Walter’s sword and stepped back, careful to keep his weight centered. Walter lunged again and Edwin saw the larger man was off-balance. He brought his wooden training sword up for the finishing blow, but somehow Walter ducked under the blade and came up holding a little butter knife at Edwin’s heart.
“A good start, but you moved in too soon,” said Lady Rada, from her seat by the Noon Court fountain.
“I thought he lost his balance,” said Edwin, still trying to catch his breath.
“You keep seeing what you want to see,” said Walter, patting him on the shoulder.
Rada was Edwin’s usual fencing instructor, but Walter, her husband, had taken over the job now that she was pregnant. He had also brought out an armload of pillows and blankets, and Rada was snuggled up in them happily against the colder autumn weather. She had always been a very active person, constantly on the move, but she seemed to enjoy this opportunity to be still and relax. Instead of using her magysk ring to practice combat spells, she was using it to warm her pillows; a cloud of contented steam billowed around her.
They all heard footsteps on the path, and turned to see a small woman in a man’s tunic and long, baggy trousers approaching. Her cloak and boots were dusty, as was the wide, floppy leather hat that she doffed as she dropped into a bow. Her long, dark blonde hair came tumbling extravagantly out of the hat, and when she stood up, smiling, she brushed it languidly over her shoulder.
“Vittoria!” they all said. Even Rada, who was suspicious of all things Immani, had warmed to the spy, especially after she had saved Edwin’s life on his ill-fated northern trip that past spring.
“Much though I wish this were a social call,” she said, “I have urgent news, your majesty. Duke Lukas’s forces have left Severn. They are heading northeast, apparently in the direction of this city.”
So all the rumors were true: Lukas wasn’t going to wait until spring. Edwin had done his share of traveling in winter, and he had found it miserable. A siege in winter would be dreadful for the soldiers on both sides. “Lukas is certainly in a hurry,” he observed.
“He can’t let Broderick upstage him,” said Vittoria. “He has to prove he’s the best general.” She bowed again. “Shall I go tell Caedmon and the Earl of Hyrne that you wish to call a meeting of your council, your majesty?”
Naturally, he did. One of the things he appreciated about Vittoria was that, like Caedmon, she treated him as the king and the commander, instead of treating him like a boy.
In half an hour, all the council members were assembled in the tapestry room around a big map of Keneshire. Vittoria had detailed information about Lukas’s troops—which nobles were in command of which regiments, where they had been camping, and how many men they had.
There was one particularly unpleasant surprise—something she hadn’t mentioned in her quick summary of the situation for Edwin in the Noon Court. Sir Halvor Ingridsson, Lukas’s natural son and best cavalry commander, had crossed into Keneshire near Montgomery, in the northwest.
“It’s a cavalry raid,” Vittoria said, “but he’s doubled his forces with Odelandic mercenaries. I think he’s going to continue east, and then south, in order to protect his father’s left flank.”
Everyone looked at the path she’d traced on the map. It went straight through the idyllic farmlands of the Keneshire plains, right toward Keneburg itself. Everyone knew Halvor’s reputation, and they all knew what was in store for those farms.
“Someone should take cavalry north and stop Halvor,” said Andras Byrne.
“If you’re meaning to volunteer,” said his mother, Flora, “I’m not sure we can spare the troops.”
“It’s true,” said the Earl of Hyrne, with an exasperated look at Duke Hugh. “We had to send the levies home at Finstertide. They won’t be happy to be recalled after less than a week.”
“More to the point,” said Hugh, looking at the earl with barely-concealed contempt, “we don’t have the stores here to feed the whole army through winter.”
Edwin cleared his throat and tapped on the table. “My idea,” he said, though no one had asked him, “is to do what Andras suggests. And we can send a message,” he nodded at Vittoria, “to the Duke of Leornian, and ask him to send some cavalry to join up with us. Once we’ve turned back Halvor, the cavalry—ours and Leornian’s—will go south again and hit Duke Lukas in the flank.”
“That’s a lovely idea...in theory, darling,” Flora began.
“And whatever we do, I’m going with the army,” Edwin added.
“That’s out of the question,” said the earl.
“Highly inadvisable,” said Flora.
From the side of the room, half-hidden in the shadow of a massive tapestry, came Elwyn’s voice. “You know, if Edwin is the king, I think he’s entitled to decide whether he fights or not.” She was slouched in a gilded camp chair, her legs draped over one of the arms. Edwin gave her a smile. Her attendance at these meetings was sporadic at best, but when she bothered to show up, she always supported him.
“The princess is correct,” said Caedmon, from the shadows at the other side of the room. He stepped out into the light, hands clasped behind his back. “The king must be seen as a hero.”
“You’re already seen as a hero, Edwin, dear,” said Flora. “You should hear the songs people sing about your valiant secret mission to the north.”
Edwin cringed. “My valiant mission was a failure.” Flora had paid minstrels to make it sound like a roaring success, and she had arranged a big public ceremony at the cathedral where Andras made Edwin a knight. That didn’t change the fact that he had failed, though. “I’d like to do something heroic for real.”
As so often happened these days, the council meeting ended without making a firm decision. That made Edwin feel like a failure, too. A king should have control of his council, shouldn’t he? But he had tried everything, to no avail. He had tried shouting, he had tried pleading. He’d tried storming out dramatically. He had tried asking Duchess Flora to address him more formally. But nothing he did could make his uncle and Flora see him as an adult.
Of course, it would help if he had some grand and brilliant idea for how to defeat Lukas. But it was a simple matter of math: they didn’t have enough troops, and if they had more troops, they wouldn’t have enough food.
The solution to both problems came from an unexpected quarter, and it came more quickly than anyone at Keneburg could have imagined. The very next day after bringing the warning about Duke Lukas and Sir Halvor, Vittoria returned with much better news. Roger Barras, Duke of Pinshire, had finally bestirred himself and was coming to Keneburg with two thousand knights and men. Just as importantly, the thoughtful duke was bringing his own food and supplies in forty barges on the River Kelwinn.
The supplies and the troops would take a week or so to arrive, but Duke Roger hurried ahead in his big white and silver barge so they could all start planning the campaign together. This was the breath of fresh air everyone had been waiting for. Or at least that was what Duchess Flora said when they all went down to the dock of Dunharvin Castle to greet the newcomers.
As the soldiers set up the banners, and the musicians tuned their instruments, and Caedmon paced along the pier, glowering at everyone, Flora took Edwin aside. “Roger is probably bringing some of his family. Certainly his heir, the Earl of Ramsden. Possibly Lady Meredith, as well. You know Meredith, don’t you?”
“Slightly,” Edwin said. She and her twin brother, Stanley, had been at Atherton during his brief and disastrous stay at the school, but he hadn’t been especially close to her. Beyond that, he had vague memories of children’s parties years ago at Wealdan Castle.
As for the duke himself, he had been a traditional supporter of the Sigor family. But last winter, when Edwin and the others had left exile and returned to Myrcia through the duke’s lands, Roger Barras had been less than entirely welcoming. He had shuffled them off to a little hunting lodge, where no one would know he was receiving them. He had also made Edwin spend most of his time with his youngest daughter, Roberta, who was 11 and talked constantly about her dogs. Looking back now, Edwin was pretty sure the duke had been trying to force romance to blossom. Hopefully he wasn’t going to try the same thing now with Meredith.
The duke’s barge finally arrived, and his grace alighted, smiling and bowing and shaking everyone’s hands. He was followed by Stanley, Earl of Ramsden, who was trying to look older by being stern and serious. Edwin recognized the tactic. He gave Stanley a hunting knife, and Stanley gave him a longbow in return. Somehow, when the party moved inside for the welcoming feast, Stanley ended up with Andras and Elwyn, and Edwin was left with Meredith. Not only that, but they had barely gotten their first mugs of mulled cider when Flora sidled up and said, “Why don’t you show Meredith the Noon Court, Edwin dear?”
They got outside, and Edwin dutifully pointed out the various flower beds and the fountains. Meredith was very quiet, responding only in nods and shrugs. He didn’t remember her being this shy. But then, he didn’t remember much at all about her. She had blonde hair that reminded him a little of Penny’s, and her dark red velvet dress was quite becoming.
He decided to try a compliment. “I like your dress.”
She turned and glared at him. “Is that your game, then?”
“My...my game?”
“I suppose you think every girl will lift her skirts for you because you’re the king. You’re a vile human being, Edwin Sigor. That’s all I have to say about it. You’re simply vile.”
She dumped her cup of mulled cider over the tips of his boots, and then she stalked back inside. “What was that about?” Edwin wondered.
Luckily, he didn’t have to spend very long in her company. That evening, the council decided to adopt his plan of campaign—Andras would lead a cavalry force to defeat Sir Halvor in northern Keneshire before he could do too much damage. Then they would turn Lukas’s flank, and the Sigor army would surround the Severn forces. Lukas would be trapped, and he would either have to surrender or be destroyed.
Edwin’s uncle and Flora insisted he should stay home, but Andras repeated his invitation for Edwin to ride north with the cavalry, and Edwin accepted. And when Caedmon announced he would be going along, too, no one could really object any longer. With a hillichmagnar’s protection, Edwin would be almost as safe on campaign as he would be sitting uselessly around the castle.
So, early the next morning, Edwin and Caedmon rode out to the cavalry camp, where they were welcomed by Andras and his chief lieutenant and brother-in-law, Baron Wallace Urcard. Wallace was a pleasant fellow, a powerfully-built knight with a ready wit and a tremendous store of practical military knowledge. His wife, Lady Lauren, came out to bid them all farewell. Edwin couldn’t help noticing a certain lack of warmth in her goodbyes to Wallace. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, but he was pretty sure it was none of his business, so he put it in the back of his mind and tried to turn his thoughts to the upcoming campaign.
And he nearly succeeded, except that as they were finally ready to march, one of Wallace’s knights offered a toast to “the death of Sir Halvor and the ruination of the Ostensen family.” Edwin drank like everyone else, but he felt bad afterward. He couldn’t escape the feeling that by fighting the Ostensens, he was somehow betraying Penny.
Later that morning, he rode his horse up beside Andras’s and asked for a word alone. “Do you mind if I ask you something very personal?” he said.
Andras raised an eyebrow. They spurred forward a little to distance themselves from Caedmon and Wallace. “Let me guess; it’s something about your sister.”
“No. Well, not directly, anyway.” Edwin took a deep breath. “Are you and Princess Donella still..., um....”
“In love?” Andras grinned. “Yes. It’s not something I’m ashamed of, but I keep it quiet. Some people might think it’s treason to you. And to your sister.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. Neither does Elwyn, though I suppose you know that already.”
Andras laughed. “Yes, that’s one subject on which Elwyn and I are in complete agreement. Why do you ask about Donella, though?”
Very quickly, without naming names (which would have been disrespectful to Penny), Edwin explained that he’d met a girl on the Gramiren side during his trip north, and that he kept thinking about her. “So, what I’m wondering,” he finished, “is how you and Donella manage. I mean, you’re fighting her family. Her family is trying to kill you. What do the two of you think about that?”
“We mostly don’t,” said Andras. “I write to her—Vittoria has some friends who handle our correspondence, though I’m probably not supposed to tell you that. Anyway, she and I write back and forth, and we rarely talk about the war at all. She doesn’t care about politics, and frankly, neither do I.” He bowed from the saddle. “No offense.”
“None taken.”
That night, in his tent, Edwin composed a letter to Penny. It took him several drafts to get it right.
Dearest Penny,
I’m writing to you from an army camp. I insisted on being allowed to lead troops, and they’ve finally let me do it. I would much rather be at Atherton, though, all things considered. A friend (I can’t tell you his name) has a girl he loves on the other side of the war, and he says they write back and forth, and they just ignore the politics of it all. I know you’re a republican, and you think this war is ridiculous, so I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind writing to me, even if I am fighting your father and your uncle.
I still think about you all the time. I still love you. I’m very sorry that I lied and didn’t tell you my real name immediately. I’m also sorry that I can’t apologize in person. Hopefully I’ll be able to do it soon, though.
Write back and tell me how things are going at Atherton. Tell me about math, if you like. Anything will be interesting if you write it.
Love,
Edwin
He sealed the letter and took it to the messengers’ tent, where, as he hoped, he found Vittoria sitting at a little folding table and deciphering messages from her commanders in the Empire.
“Listen, Andras Byrne said you know people who can take his letters to Donella Gramiren.”
Vittoria looked up at him with a wide-eyed, utterly innocent expression. “I can’t imagine why he’d say such a thing.”
“Right. Well, I don’t really care if he and Donella write love letters back and forth. I’m wondering: if your people can get a message to Formacaster,” he pulled the envelope out of his pocket, “can you get one to Atherton?”
She took the letter and smiled. “I’ll see what I can do.”