footsteps outside, and Stapewood opened the door for Captain Sir Huillam Pordevere, with Marie Angelline following in his wake.
‘Salander,’ he said, taking a seat at the table. There was no sign of condescension there, just the will to get down to business. ‘Mallarkey’s close behind me. Let’s get everything done double time, shall we?’
‘Absolutely,’ Tubal agreed, biting off the ‘sir’ that almost edged in after the word. Mallarkey did indeed arrive just then, with Lieutenant Gallien come to second him.
They gathered around the bare table and an awkward pause extended, before Stapewood filled some glasses and miserably passed them round.
‘Well, then,’ Pordevere said. ‘What the devil comes next?’
‘I’ve sent a messenger to Locke to let them know what’s happened,’ Tubal explained. ‘I assume that we’ll be sent a new commander as soon as the war effort permits.’
‘Or a promotion for one of us,’ Pordevere said – meaning ‘me. ‘Until then, I think I can safely claim seniority and put myself in temporary command.’
Tubal exchanged glances with Emily. With Tubal a mere tradesman with a purchased commission, it was Pordevere or Mallarkey, and neither were ideal custodians for the collective lives of the Levant army.
Mallarkey was obviously not going to raise an objection, though, and so Tubal nodded tiredly.
‘What are your thoughts then, sir?’ he asked.
Pordevere grinned his infectious grin. ‘Glad you asked me, Salander. As it happened, I rather had the idea of an attack: drive them back into the swamps, keep them away from the border here.’
Tubal closed his eyes briefly, no doubt seeing in his mind the expanse of open ground between the camp and the treeline, and thinking what five squads of Denland sharpshooters could do to any number of red-coated men advancing against them.
‘I had a word with your man, the scout, before I came here,’ Pordevere said.
‘Master Sergeant Mallen.’
‘Right. I had him go with a few of his lads to see what the situation was.’ Pordevere’s grin slipped a little.
‘And?’ Mallarkey said, alarmed.
‘Four of them went out, and got into the trees unseen, but they couldn’t get more than ten yards further in. The place is crawling with Denlander soldiers, apparently. More of them are turning up all the time.’
‘Oh, my God,’ whispered Mallarkey.
‘An attack,’ declared Tubal. ‘They’re going to bring the fight to us.’
‘It has to be,’ Pordevere agreed. ‘And your man Mallen says they’re not to be taken napping, either. They’ve got guns pointed at us and ready.’ He bared his teeth in frustration. ‘I want to take eight squads of good men in, and clear them out, gentlemen, but, as God is my witness, even I can’t see a way to it.’
Tubal blinked at him, although Mallarkey only looked relieved.
‘So I’ve found the next best thing,’ Pordevere said. ‘They’re going to make their move on us; that much is for certain. We need to fend them off when they arrive, drive them back. Then we’ll attack. While they’re falling back in a rout, we’ll drive straight into them, scatter them and push them into the trees while they’re still disordered. They won’t have a chance to form up, and we’ll have them. Sound like a plan, gentlemen?’
Tubal and Emily exchanged another yet glance. Emily shook her head slightly, remembering the exquisite discipline of the Denlanders. Any such pursuers would be running into covering fire from both sides.
‘We can’t just let ourselves be picked apart, bit by bit each night,’ Pordevere said, challenging anyone to speak against him.
Tubal shrugged and held his peace. Pordevere nodded, reasonably happy. ‘What about the defence, then? Not my area, that. Mallarkey?’
Captain Mallarkey jumped at his name. ‘Well, I . . .’
‘How about you, Salander?’
‘Actually, sir, Lieutenant Marshwic and I have had a few ideas,’ Tubal explained. ‘Firstly, we’ll have lanterns spaced out, twenty yards from the camp perimeter, come nightfall, so at least we’ll see them coming if they plan a night attack.’
‘Good.’
‘And . . .’ Tubal glanced helplessly at Emily, who took the up baton.
‘The Denlanders have better guns than we do,’ she said flatly. ‘Is there anyone who still doesn’t believe that?’
Mallarkey looked as though he would speak, but he glanced at Pordevere first. The Bear Sejant commander looked troubled. ‘To be honest,’ he confessed, ‘I’m far from convinced . . . but the evidence is mounting, Lieutenant. I think we will have to assume it is true.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Emily gratefully. This was a new side to Pordevere, and it surprised her. The death of the colonel, the one man who could overrule