they pick on keeps them busy for a long time, perhaps even wears them out and makes them change their minds about the joys of war.”
“But we can’t rely on that. They’ve never lost a war yet…. And what happens if we really are the next lucky country on their list?”
Redrought was halfway through a huge fruit pie and took some time to wipe away the cream and crumbs before answering her. “We can only hope the army reforms I brought in five years ago will be enough to hold them. Every region now has its elite corps of housecarls as well as a professional cavalry regiment, and the period of training in the fyrd has been extended to four months. You know as well as I what that means: Every farmer and field hand, every clerk and shopkeeper, is battle-trained, and the new War Tax means they’re all armed with shield, helmet, sword, and spear. What more can we do?”
All able-bodied citizens had to serve in the fyrd whenever there was a military emergency, and they had to train for it every year. But Thirrin knew it wasn’t enough. Even with the best training methods and with professional soldiers leading them, the fyrd was still an army of farmers and shopkeepers. Polypontian soldiers spent every waking moment training or fighting or preparing to do so. A soldier of the fyrd spent a few weeks of the year learning to raise a shield-wall and to use an ax. They’d have no hope against Bellorum’s professional murderers. “We need to get allies,” Thirrin said decisively.
At this point Primplepuss awoke and walked sleepily across to the King’s lap, and Redrought took some minutes of cooing and fussing over the little cat before she was happily settled. “Who would you suggest?” he then continued as though there’d been no interruption. “Let me remind you that the Polypontus stands between us and any potential allies to the south; seaward there are only the Zephyrs and Corsairs, who hate us; and way to the south there’s the Southern Continent, which is too far away.”
“There’s always The-Land-of-the-Ghosts.”
Redrought’s huge callused hand slammed down on the table, making Primplepuss leap vertically skyward and land back on the King’s lap. “That again! The Vampire King and Queen want us all dead. Why should they agree to an alliance?”
Thirrin, not at all bothered by her father’s outburst, answered quietly. “For mutual benefit and safety. If we fall, The-Land-of-the-Ghosts would be next. Maggiore Totus tells me the rulers of the Polypontus believe in science and rationality. Vampires and ghosts, witches and zombies, would be an affront to their view of the world. They’d have to wipe them out, if only to rid the world of such unscientific creatures.”
“Perhaps they’d just ignore them,” Redrought answered more quietly, as the truth of her words began to percolate through. “I hear some of their scientists don’t even believe in lodestones — you know, those pieces of metal that are drawn to iron — so they refuse to give any credence to them, even if they see their effects with their own eyes. That’s a powerful sort of denial, perhaps powerful enough for them to reject the existence of an entire country.”
“Scipio Bellorum ignore a possible conquest? I think not. Especially when there’s a chance of adding another land and all its wealth to the Empire. He’d be itching to invade The-Land-of-the-Ghosts almost as soon as he’d tidied away the problem of the Icemark.”
The King sat quietly considering her words. He was a shrewd ruler, and her argument stood close scrutiny. “You might … just might have a point.” He absentmindedly stroked Primplepuss, who settled again as he cogitated. Finally he reached a decision. “They’d never agree to an alliance with me. We loathe each other equally. But with you, Thirrin …” He reached for another fruit pie and demolished it with quiet efficiency. “Of course, you’ve already made a start by making a friend of that wolfman-king you released. Perhaps it’s something you should follow up after Yule.”
Thirrin sighed happily. She was enormously proud that she’d convinced her father of the good points of a plan she’d been mulling over for some time. Usually her father would listen with quiet patience to her ideas about the governing of the country, then reduce them to rubble. But this time he’d accepted her arguments. She stored away his instructions to seek allies and chose one of the game pies to eat.