battle will be here on Abask land. Will you enjoy that, March? Will you deign to join in?”
“I will be with you all the way, Your Highness.”
“You will indeed,” Harold replied, and then he looked at the hills around them. “They have drawn us into their trap but they won’t fight us in the dark. Their mistake was to wait. They should have attacked as soon as we arrived.”
“So what do we do?” March dared to ask.
“We use the night, and we use our strength. They’ll be feeling confident because they’ve just won a great battle, but they’ll be tired too. They’ve lost men.” He addressed the boys around him now. “Fox leader, take the best scouts. I want to know the enemy locations and numbers.” Turning to Rashford, he said, “Take Sam and the best assassins from the other brigades. I want you to pick off the Calidorian guards. Make them nervous. Slice their throats, spill their guts—make a mess of them. Can you do that, Bull leader? Have you got your nerve back?”
“I have my nerve,” Rashford replied. “Should we attack silently?”
“Silently or noisily. Whatever is most terrifying. Stick the heads onto spears, throw them into the bushes, chop hands off, feet off. Tongues out. When dawn comes, I want these men to see their future.”
Rashford nodded and glanced at March, saying, “Perhaps the Abask here can help us with the territory.”
Harold frowned. “It’s not hard. It’s hills and streams with some soldiers hiding. Just get on with it and leave my servant be.”
Rashford bowed and backed away, calling on others to join him, and soon they were running off into the hills.
Harold turned to the rest of the boys. “I want you to go over this battlefield and find all the Calidorian bodies. Cut off their heads. Put them on spikes.”
The boys lit torches and set to their task. At first some were reluctant, but Harold shouted, “Anyone not doing their part will be punished! Anyone not following my orders is a traitor!” And suddenly the boys were hacking away at bodies with grim enthusiasm, trying to make jokes about the body parts and the blood.
Harold stood with March and surveyed the scene. “The Calidorians will be watching. What will they think of this, March?”
In the flickering light the sight was ghoulish. Heads were set on spears, arms and hands too. The boys were competing at who could display the bodies in the worst way. March knew the Calidorians would think Harold was a Brigantine monster, uncivilized and barbaric. He said, “They’ll find it terrifying. They’ll dread you, Your Highness. As they should.”
“Yes, as they should,” Harold muttered.
Before dawn, the Fox leader returned with his report. “The Calidorian forces are split into three. The biggest force to the south is about two thousand men, two hundred on horseback. To the west and east, another thousand per side and the archers are with them—a hundred on each side.”
“And any on the wall?” Harold asked.
The boy shook his head. “Only at the forts, which are farther along; none close in.”
“Ha! That’s why they didn’t spring their trap as soon as we arrived. They’re hoping we’ll just go back to Brigant. They’re leaving the door open for us to depart.” Harold smiled.
Just as some of the Bears must have done.
“Well, we’ll go to the gap, but we won’t go through it. I want lookouts on the wall. The archers will be the first challenge. All boys must have shields. They can get them from the battlefield. After the arrows, it’ll be the horses. The Calidorians know that’s where they are stronger. It’s hand-to-hand combat where we will win.” Harold suddenly had a look of glee on his face as he had an idea. “We’ll play dead. Then they’ll come in close. And we rise up.” He smiled and tapped his lips. “But Thelonius isn’t a complete fool. He’ll be cautious. I think this is where my little Wasps will come in handy again.”
Harold summoned Tiff, the Wasp leader. “Your objective is to capture Thelonius. Nothing more or less. When we are playing dead, they’ll send men forward to check. Thelonius, I hope, will be with these men, but if he’s not, if he hangs back, then you come in from behind.” Harold smiled. “You’re so small and fast that these old men won’t know if you’re soldiers or children. Shout and scream too. Confuse them. Shout for help. As if they should be helping you, as if you’re running from