Surrender to the Will of the Night - By Glen Cook Page 0,159

* *

Brother Candle was on the wall with hundreds of spectators, mostly old folks, women, and children. He held the youngest of Kedle’s babies. Raulet Archimbault had the older, wrapped in a heavy, ragged cloak. Some of the crowd eyed Raulet harshly. He was not too old to be out there defending his city.

Kedle stayed close to the Perfect. Her husband was nearby but made no effort to keep her warm.

Soames drew more potent stares than did Raulet. He ignored them, disdainfully, yet did seem tense, nervous, worried, even frightened. This could be a bad day in the life of Soames Richeut.

The Navayans looked ragged, advancing toward Repor ande Busch. King Peter’s standard was not out there with them. Rumor said the King had spent the night drinking and sporting with a woman who was not Isabeth of Khaurene. Count Diagres Alplicova, whispered to bear an unrequited passion for Queen Isabeth, had taken command.

Brother Candle thought the Navayans seemed unsure they wanted to follow today’s commander.

Soldiers moving left of the Navayans were the Castaurigans and their King. Jaime’s mission was to interpose himself between Repor ande Busch and the Raffle so the Captal du Days could not reinforce King Regard.

Khaurene’s militia formed behind the Navayans. Brother Candle was surprised to see so many. And was further surprised to see Duke Tormond’s own standard out there with them. He told Archimbault, “I’m amazed that he could get that armor on. He hasn’t had it out in twenty years.”

Other Connecten forces, though, were not yet present. Scattered, hiding from the weather, they were reluctant to assemble. There was too much confusion for anything to happen.

* * *

Though determined to force a decisive encounter neither Peter nor Regard was prepared for the opportunity. Both were still abed when the first arrows flew. Peter was the worse for a terrible hangover. His people did their best to get him up, get him dressed, get him armed, armored, and mounted. He departed Metrelieux under the stern eyes of his Queen, her gaze so flush with anger that, hangover and all, he preferred a battle to explaining himself.

Peter joined his knights after the fighting became chaotic, neither side pursuing any strategy deeper than hacking at the man who was nearest. Contingents of Navayans sat their mounts outside the fray and did nothing because they had received no instructions and had no initiative. Many Arnhanders did the same. And the Khaurenese stayed well back from danger.

On the wall, beside Brother Candle, Raulet Archimbault grumbled, “I feel like I’m hearing this story for the second time.”

Kedle responded, “You are, Dad. But last time it was the Captain-General. And he was ready.”

Archimbault grunted. “Handed us our heads and hearts and sent us scurrying into the Altai like terrified rats.” He eyed Soames but said nothing.

Kedle, the Perfect noted, did not so much as glance at her husband.

Archimbault said, “Things were different, then.”

Indeed. The Patriarchal forces had been disciplined and well led. For them it had been another day’s work at organized murder.

* * *

The Navayans approached to within bowshot before the Arnhanders wakened their sovereign. Regard had spent the night with an equerry named Thierry, sure there would be no fighting for days. The weather made campaigning impractical.

The enemy did not agree. He began making probing attacks. Frightened courtiers brought word that several of Anne’s favorites had fallen already.

The situation looked desperate.

Regard would not be hurried. He refused to hear talk of flight. He performed his morning religious obligation, demanding added blessings for a warrior headed into harm’s way on God’s behalf.

Panic found a home in the hearts of some awaiting the King’s appearance, particularly those in the Connec out of greed rather than conviction. Several dozen knights chose to leave Regard in God’s keeping before he completed his obligation. Among them were three of his cousins, his mother’s brother, and Anne’s latest pet priest, Bishop Mortimar du Blanc. Du Blanc was a senior member of the Arnhander branch of the Society for the Suppression of Sacrilege and Heresy.

The omens were bad from the beginning. Regard’s squires broke the laces on his mail shirt as they tightened them. While they hunted replacements news came that the last hint of organization had fled the battlefield.

More faint hearts discovered a conviction that they would be of more value at home than at Khaurene. Anne might spit and swear but she would not leave them facedown, dead, in freezing Connecten mud.

Several contingents from counties that had shifted allegiance from Tormond IV to