Blood in Snow (21 page)

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Are you sure this is wise?” Abby whispered as Edmund led King Lionel and the remnants of his frostbitten army around the western hills to Rood. “He didn’t keep his promise about your duel.”

“He doesn’t think he’s lost the duel,” Edmund answered. “But he’ll keep this promise.”

“Why do you think so?”

“Because he swore it in front of his knights and lords. If he can’t be trusted to keep his word, they’ll be reluctant to follow him. The last thing he wants is to breed discontent among the people who’d want to see him d-dethroned.”

Abby fell silent, scowling as she plodded along on her horse.

“Say there,” the King called up to Edmund. He rode behind Edmund and Abby, surrounded by his bodyguards, all of whom seemed as cold as Edmund felt walking through the knee-high snow with still-damp boots. Behind the King rode a couple hundred riders in a line, followed by another couple hundred men-at-arms, blankets draped around their heads and shoulders as they trudged. “Say there, what kind of beast is that, Edwin? That dog of yours. What kind is she?”

“Edwin?” Abby muttered.

“Evidently it’s more fearsome than Edmund.”

Abby shook her head in contempt.

“I’m not sure, sire,” Edmund called back to the King with forced politeness. “She might have a bit of grey wolf in her.”

“That would be the biggest damned wolf I have ever seen,” King Lionel replied. “Honestly, I’ve never seen her like before. For a moment there, back at the Field of Death …”

“Field of Death?” repeated Abby.

“I’ll explain later.”

“… back when she growled at me, I could have sworn her eyes were glowing—actually glowing! Trick of the firelight, no doubt. Still, having a beast with glowing eyes could prove rather useful!”

“Yes, sire,” Edmund said.

“For example,” the King went on, heavily wrapped in furs and extra clothes he’d taken from his men, “suppose you wanted to read in the dark …”

Moaning, Abby rolled her eyes.

“Don’t upset him,” Edmund whispered. “He’ll be a lot kinder if we keep him happy.”

“Or suppose you were outside at night,” the King remarked. “Why, if you could train the beast to blink just so, you could send coded messages to your men!”

“Yes, sire,” Edmund said, just short of sounding snide. “Very wise.”

“I want her,” the King said. “I will make you a lord if you give her to me.”

Keep patient. Be friendly.

“Your Majesty, we’ve already discussed this. I don’t want to be a lord. You’re granting me the Highlands, remember?”

“Yes, yes! If you can arrange a battle with the goblins like you said!”

“I can arrange it,” Edmund called back. “I’ll stake my life on it.”

“That’s what I want to hear! By the way, when are we getting to this city of yours? I’m weary of riding in this blasted cold. I’m tired, and hungry … and cold!”

“He should try walking in wet boots,” Edmund muttered to Abby.

“What?” the King said.

“It’s just up ahead, sire.”

They passed the final hill upon which lay the ruins of the old watchtower and came within sight of Rood’s walls. Pond, Hendrick, and at least two hundred men stood at the gates, weapons at the ready. Edmund didn’t recognize many of them, but they appeared formidable.

“Sheath your swords,” Edmund called to them.

Pond and Hendrick approached, weapons lowered but still in hand. They eyed the advancing line of horsemen with trepidation.

“Don’t worry,” Edmund said. “He’s promised to grant the Highlands its independence.”

Wonder crossed their faces.

“You’re kidding!” Pond exclaimed. “How did you manage that?”

“You only get these miserable lands if you give me battle!” King Lionel called to them.

“Battle?” Pond repeated, unnerved.

Edmund embraced him and patted him on the back. “I’ll explain later. It’s good to see you, Pond. Is everything all right here? Are you okay?”

Pond gave a halfhearted smile.

“I just want to tell you”—Hendrick shook Edmund’s hand—“that no matter what, no matter who you are or what you can do, I’m with you. I’m happy to serve you and Rood.”

Edmund clasped Hendrick’s shoulder. “Thanks. That means a great deal to me.”

“Everybody feels the same,” Hendrick said earnestly. “Those who don’t are gone; they’ve been run out. We’re all behind you and everybody like you. I want you to know that. What happened to Vin—”

“Good God!” cried King Lionel, who’d finally reached Rood’s gates. “What the hell is this? Edwin … this isn’t a city! It’s a … it’s a, a shithole!”

“Edwin?” Pond repeated.

“I’ll explain later.”

The King and his men stared at Rood through the open gates.

The livid townsfolk blocked their way.

“What the—?” the King sputtered. “Edwin!”

“I tried to tell you, Your Highness,” Edmund said. “There aren’t many people in the Highlands.”

“Not yet, at any rate,” a newcomer added, clutching a hunting knife. “But there’ll be more, if you just let us be!”

Men around him grumbled their agreement.

The King ignored them.

“Honestly!” he said to Edmund. “This … this is a pit! You’d die for this place?”

“It’s our home!” someone said.

An angry murmur boiled throughout the crowd. Cold knuckles tightened around sword hilts and knife handles.

“People!” Edmund shouted above the growing din. “People!” He stepped between the King and the mob at the gate.

You’d better calm everybody before blood is shed.

“People of Rood,” Edmund said, as though announcing something of great importance, “today is a glorious day for the Highlands!”

The crowd quieted somewhat.

“For today, not only are we blessed with the presence of His Royal Majesty, King Lionel the Fair from Eryn Mas …”

They grumbled again.

“… but he’s also given his word—nay, his solemn pledge! An unbreakable pledge that only such a noble king could make! If I show him where he can do battle with the evil goblins of the mountains …”

“Goblins?” Newcomers exchanged worried glances.

“… he will grant us the Highlands, and we shall keep our home!”

“Why would you want it?” The King shook his head. “Seriously! Is this it? This is the capital city of the Highlands?” Laughing, he turned to his knights. “No wonder we couldn’t find the blasted place! Look at it! It’s smaller than my castle! It’s nothing more than, what— fifteen buildings? I have commodes bigger than this!”

“Then you can go back to your stinking castle!” somebody shouted.

Edmund spied Gabe in the crowd; he held a meat cleaver in each hand.

“Gabe,” he called.

The rotund cook waddled over.

“Can you make something special? Something for maybe four hundred extra men? If not, we’ll need something just for the King. Something incredible. Make a big fuss.”

“Oh”—Gabe sneered at the King and his men—“I can make something special for them, all right. I’ll make sure the lot of them don’t leave the latrine for a week. Or I can do what Vin did.” He looked at Edmund and, with hatred smoldering in his eyes, whispered, “Just give me the word, and I’ll kill them all.”

“Now, none of that,” Edmund said. “We have to keep him happy, at least for a little while. Can you make enough for them? How are our stores?”

“You don’t need to be worrying about that.” Gabe winked. “Nobody that I like will ever starve, if you get me, sir.”

“Good. Go get ready what you can. The King wants something hot to eat.”

Toby ran up. “Mister Edmund!” he cried merrily. “Thank the gods you’re back!”

“Thanks, Toby. It’s good to be back. How’s everything with you?”

“Good, sir! I think I built something that might help us with this cold. Come see!”

Several men blocking the gates cursed and uttered crude remarks about the King under their breath.

“In a minute,” Edmund said to Toby. “First I have to deal with this. Your Majesty,” he called to the King, “let me show you to your quarters and get some hot food into you and your men!”

As the King’s army began to file into Rood, snowflakes began to drift down around them.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Snow fell for the better part of three days, adding another foot and a half to the two feet already on the ground. Slashing winds pushed drifts higher than the tallest men and temperatures plummeted. It was so cold, in fact, that it hurt to breathe outside; freezing air burned the lungs, and exposed skin drew taut within seconds. Inside, things were just as miserable; with so many people packed into Rood’s few finished buildings, tensions were beginning to boil over between the townsfolk and the King’s army.

“How long do you think they’ll stay?” Hendrick asked.

Edmund sighed. “I don’t know. That’s wh-why, that’s why I called you all here.”

With the King, his lords, and their bodyguards taking over The Buxom Barmaid, and both barracks and every completed structure filled to capacity, bursting with soldiers and new arrivals, there wasn’t much room to move around. Even after every cow and pig had been butchered for food, the stables overflowed with horses and men.

Edmund and his friends crowded together in the back of Rood’s general store, a dim oil lamp burning amid them for warmth.

“We have to get the King and his men to leave,” Edmund said.

There was much nodding around the room.

“If we don’t,” Hendrick said, “there’ll be bloodshed soon, especially if old Yellowhair realizes half our people are men-at-arms who fled his army.”

“Why does he have to find out?” Abby waved the lamp’s black smoke from her face. “He doesn’t even know they defected to our side. They could pretend they got here when he did.”

“I think more than a few would like to tell His Royal Majesty what they really think of him,” Hendrick answered.

“Try to stop them,” Edmund said. “Better yet, keep them away from the King and his knights. They won’t take kindly to deserters, and we’ll have to support our new residents should things come to blows. We can’t afford that right now.”

“You know”—Pond fidgeted next to Edmund—“we must have more than four hundred people now.”

“Four hundred sixteen,” Hendrick said.

“We could try to fight them,” Pond suggested.

“We wouldn’t need to fight,” Gabe said from the corner. “Let me prepare them something special, and we’ll have the town back to ourselves real quick.”

A murmur of agreement rose up.

“No,” Edmund said firmly. “I don’t want things to go that way. And no more fighting. At least, not if we can help it. Several hundred men have already frozen to death.”

“Not our men,” said Cavin, “thanks to Toby here.”

Several people patted the young blacksmith on the back.

Using several battered and dented shields, Toby had constructed heating devices for each barracks—large metal barrels held water and were heated by small fires, which in turn produced steam that warmed the barracks via a series of pipes. These devices not only kept the crowded barracks toasty but also required far less wood than a traditional fire pit.

“So what do you want to do?” Abby asked to get everybody back on track.

Edmund tapped his fingers on the table. “It seems the sooner we get Lionel into a good battle, the better.”

“Hear! Hear!”

“And killing goblins off would take care of two birds with one sword, so to speak,” Pond added.

“Do you really think he can defeat all of those goblins?” Abby asked. “I mean, you said there were twenty thousand of them. Lionel only has maybe a hundred fifty knights and their squires, plus perhaps two hundred men-at-arms.”

“He has four hundred sixty-two fighting men,” Hendrick said. “And a hundred twelve men in support—cooks and the like.”

“You call them cooks?” Gabe snorted. “They might as well be leatherworkers.”

“At least his minstrels are entertaining,” Cavin said.

This brought a chorus of groans from the surrounding shadows.

“If old Yellowhair talks about his damned minstrels again—” Hendrick began.

“People!” Abby called over the grumblings. “Focus!”

“Look,” said Edmund, “we need to get the King out of here as soon as possible, which means we need him to fight a bunch of goblins. The more the better, but not so many he ends up losing.”

“So what’s the problem?” Toby asked. “I mean, you said the northern mountains are infested with them. Why not just send the King and his men on his way?”

“Because he’d freeze to death before he and his men got there,” Abby answered.

“Forgive my stupidity,” Hendrick said, “but when will all this snow be gone?”

“March,” Edmund replied.

Everybody but Pond cried out, “March!”

“Late March,” Edmund corrected himself, “if not early April. It depends on the year.”

“We can’t have Old Yellowhair here until March!” Gabe said. “I’ll kill him myself before that happens!”

They all swore. “Four months …”

“Ed,” Abby began, “we can’t have him—”

“I know, I know.” Edmund was just as tired and annoyed with having the King and his men around. Ever since returning to Rood, he’d done nothing but run errands for Lionel and his lords and hear sarcastic comments about the Highlands and Rood. Moreover, he had to sleep on the cramped floor of the barracks with nearly a hundred other smelly men and hadn’t been able to get more than a couple of hours of rest each night. “We have to figure out a way to get him his battle before then.”

“And kill enough goblins so we don’t have to worry about them for a long while,” Hendrick muttered.

Silently they sat in a circle, the red light of the lamp wavering across their solemn faces.

“We could have the goblins come to us,” Toby offered. “Maybe lure them here or something.”

Many heads lifted.

“How?” Cavin asked.

“We could go there with a few men,” Pond proposed and then, fearing a blow from Abby sitting next to him, amended, “People, I mean. That is, if we went there with a few warriors, male and female—”

“We might go there,” Hendrick mused, “bloody their noses a bit, and then draw them back here.”

Edmund considered this.