Mordraud, Book One (35 page)

Eld
’s ruler had earned respect on the field, for so many years that many of those now present hadn’t even been born the first time he’d killed one of the Emperor’s men. He had a reputation as a ruthless fighter on the battleground, but also as a sophisticated strategist and a man with morals as solid as steel. Nobody hated Cambria as much as he did – he was the most resolute and determined in his commitment.

“
Let’s behave like civilised people, for love of the Gods! Please go on, Ice, finish what you were saying, and we’ll continue! I’m listening carefully, don’t you worry.”

“
Thank you, Eldain,” he replied, nodding in satisfaction. “So... Where was I?”

Then came Berg
’s turn. He was the spokesman for the implacable ranks who thought it a waste of time trying to negotiate with regions that had never sided with any faction during the war. His idea was even simpler than the eastern allies’ suggestion: lighten the front on the Rampart, and shift the fighting southwards. Yet there was more. For the first time in years, he advanced talk of a direct attack on the lands bordering the Hann, with no further ado.

“
We’ve been waiting for this chance for ages! They think they’ve got the advantage down there, and they’re convinced that by breaking through on the Hann, they’ll be able to squeeze us in a vice from the south.”

Berg was yell
ing again, as usual. He was half-deaf – the aftermath of a neglected infection. An incredible warrior, a horrific diplomat. “But what I’m saying, for love of the soddin’ Gods, is that we know that land like the backs of our hands, so let’s sting ‘em! Let’s take some of their villages and set them on fire. You’ll see how they calm down! They’re chicken – I’ve been telling you for years!”

“
What a great idea...” muttered Ice, covering his mouth with the palm of his hand. Berg was on the verge of quarrelling again, but one look from Eldain was enough to dampen his heated spirits.

“
Fine. So we’ve had your opinions. What do you think, Adraman?”

The officer remained silent for a moment while he considered, then moved some of the pieces on the map, with no exact plan in mind.

“What we have so far are just rumours – I’d like to remind everyone of that. I’m not sure, it seems a bit fishy to me...”

“
What does, Adraman? We’ve all seen Loralon is gradually shifting the fighting to the Hann – that’s obvious!” Berg blurted. The pair had been great friends since their very first tastes of battle. They’d lost count of the times they’d fought alongside each other, one charging with the cavalry, the other firmly on the ground leading the infantry.

“
But what’s the sense in moving everything southwards... Five years ago northwards... Now to the south... They’re wasting time, playing around...” Adraman mumbled, jumbling up the cubes on the map. “It looks like even they don’t know what to do. Or perhaps their plan’s so damn clever we haven’t worked it out yet...”

“
And so? What’s your advice?” Eldain asked.

“
Sending someone to Calhann isn’t a bad idea. It won’t cost us anything, except the fees for a couple of smooth-talking loose-tongued diplomats. Why not try? However, I don’t agree we should place a great deal of trust in the Strait – I think it’ll be enough as a warning signal to Cambria... Let’s worry them a bit... That seems like a good idea to me.”

“
And what about the southern front?”

“
Forget any talk of lightening the Rampart,” Adraman answered in an authoritative tone. “Nonetheless, we could move some platoons from the north, from areas where winter comes earlier... Preparing for the worst, we should keep our eyes open and get ready to strike first as soon as we see any suspicious manoeuvres by the Imperial forces. Let’s bolster up the south, and we might even manage an attack on Lance Point – the island in the middle of the Hann’s broad bend. They seized it last year. It would be a hard-hitting humiliation for them if they were to lose it again.”

“
Hmm... yes, that seems an excellent response. What do you think? Do you all like the idea?” Eldain asked the other captains.

Adraman knew who he was dealing with. He
’d kept them all happy, more or less, skimming off the extremes in their respective proposals. And apart from a few grumbles from Berg, who was expecting goodness knows what booming assault on Cambria’s lands, the plan was approved without any trouble.

The session was over
and the captains could return to their quarters. Eldain and Adraman took a couple of clean glasses and a bottle, and made themselves comfortable in the wicker armchairs on the veranda. The night was a clear one, and the front twinkled in the moonlight.

“
You never act out of character, do you?”

“
What do you mean?” questioned Adraman, perplexed.

“
You never manage to take a decisive position... You always seek out a balanced middle ground.”

“
Was there something wrong in what I said?”

“
No, not at all... I’d have said the same thing. No, I was referring to something else,” Eldain went on, in a quiet voice.

“
Earlier you said there was something you wanted to talk to me about, in private...” Adraman began, as he filled his wooden pipe with a dry light tobacco that was perfect for rounding off a long day.

“
That’s what I’m doing. You know I don’t like to intrude in your affairs, but...”

“
It’s about Deanna, isn’t it?”

Eldain filled his glass again, and drained it in one gulp.

“There are rumours going around the fief... About a nasty row at home, and about your wife who, well...”

“
Eldain, how long have we known each other?” Adraman interjected suddenly.

“
A lifetime. Why?”

“
Then don’t beat about the bush. Spit it out, go on! They’re saying Deanna’s crazy, and maybe she’s found herself a lover. A young lover.”

“
I was groping for better words. But, yes, more or less...” Eldain replied in embarrassment.

“
If you want the truth, I...”

“
No, I don’t want to know if it’s true. I just thought I’d give you some advice.”

“
Thank goodness! Because even I don’t know what’s true. Go on, out with it!”

Eldain swirled what was left in his glass and swallowed down the last mouthful.
“Well, you see, you have a great ability to find the right middle ground in everything, but not in your own life. Deanna’s young and she’s very beautiful. You can’t expect from her the same loyalty your soldiers show you. They’re prepared to die for you.”

“
What are you getting at?” Adraman asked uncomfortably, fiddling with his pipe between his fingers.

“
If you want a good marriage, you have to stay home with her. In short, be a husband. Yet, if you don’t want to abandon your commitments to me, then you must accept that she has to find her own, well... balance...”

“
Are you advising me to leave her free to do as she pleases?!” Adraman exclaimed indignantly. “It’s preposterous! Absolute madness! Really...”

“
Don’t you see you can’t find the right middle ground?!” Eldain interrupted curtly. “Come on Adraman, wake up...! What does a soldier’s wife do while she’s there waiting for her husband? She’s not even sure he’ll be coming home on a horse – perhaps just slumped on a cart... She finds someone to take her mind off it, and then, when her husband returns, she behaves properly again. She’s a wife again, as if there were nothing wrong in it. Certain rules are not broken. Where do you think an unfaithful woman can go? She stays at your side – and at least you get your carefree days at home.”

“
You speak about it as if it were banal...”

“
But it is banal! That’s how it’s always been, it’s just you don’t want to accept it... And she’s slowly going mad. Do you prefer it this way?”

“
No, of course not! But what you’re saying...?” murmured Adraman.

“
If you love Deanna, then you must choose: either give up on the war, go home and behave like a
husband
, or stay here, and let her be a
woman
. It’s up to you.”

“
If anyone else were to say something like that to me, I’d have already challenged him to a duel...”

“
Don’t be silly,” Eldain smiled. “You’re like a brother to me. How do brothers speak to each other?”

“
Frankly,” replied Adraman. It wasn’t the first time Eldain had used that expression. It was a sentence of his.

“
So I’m speaking frankly. It’s up to you what you decide. By the way... that young man they’re talking about...”

“
His name’s Mordraud.”

“
What do you reckon? Did he really sleep with Deanna?” the old leader asked mischievously.

Adraman couldn
’t give an answer. “Do you think I should send him home?”

“
Did you drag him here or did he want to come?”

“
No, it was all his own choice.”

“
Leave him here then. Deanna needs someone who’s far away from the war. Someone who can give her a bit of peace. Let’s at least hope that this... Mordraud, did you say? Let’s hope he can at least become a good soldier. We need good ones, now more than ever...”

“
Have you got a bad feeling? One of your usuals?”

Eldain nodded, and offered the bottle to his friend.

“Not an ordinary one. A big nasty one.”

Adraman accepted, and drank directly from its neck.
“Let’s hope you’re wrong this time. If Cambria’s getting a trap ready...”

“
We’ll cope, you’ll see,” reassured Eldain, circling Adraman’s shoulders with an arm. “Like we’ve always done. You and me, together. Against an empire.”

“
The Loren family can go and screw itself...” groused the cavalryman, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“
Hallowed words, hallowed words...”

***

The soldier reeked of rancid beer and pig fat, so much so that alone he managed to mask the smell of the damp horses patiently waiting for their riders. He certainly wasn’t the best man in the garrison. The rumours about him were not at all flattering. Stingy, always drunk, violent and filthy. He loved spending all the money he made through his mysterious little extra jobs on sluts and cheap wine.

‘
But he’s off... and I’m left here to rot.’

Adraman had ordered a battalion to go south, towards the Hann shores in rebel hands. There was talk of nothing else in the camp. A battle. Real face-to-face combat – pitched fighting.

“Just look... I get to stay here with the oldies and the widows...” Mordraud grumbled, kicking at a puddle. That rain, that foul rain. Water pelting from the skies as if the sea had taken the place of the stars. And a boredom he’d never have imagined possible. He spent his days hanging around with Hammer, Mercy, Red and Giant, or getting blind drunk with them. He had few other friends in the camp. Hardly surprising really, with that amiable character of his, he thought with a smirk.

At least he had the training sessions. In their small way they were a great victory. Adraman had agreed in the end, not without dousing him with countless lectures.

‘You’re one of the many, so make sure you behave well. Do everything your teacher tells you. Don’t move a muscle unless you have his consent.’

‘
When you ride, always watch your companions – you’re not alone. Make sure you never forget that.’

‘
So you say you’re left-handed?! How do you know? Don’t be self-important – you don’t even know what using a sword means.’

Mordraud could have recited all his advice off by heart.

‘What do you take me for?! I’ve killed two... no, THREE men!’

The Stranger was never missing off the list. In fact, his name was the most cherished presence.

“I can use a sword better than that disgusting paralytic fatso... and yet look where I get to stay!”

At least he wouldn
’t receive Adraman’s orders for a few days – the only meagre consolation on that wet grey morning. The captain had to escort a battalion to the camp on the southern front, which meant Mordraud could breathe freely for a while. He wanted to savour every instant of that afternoon’s training.

“
IN LINE!”

The recruits
’ tutor was a veteran with a grotesque scar on his head in place of most of his hair. He didn’t have the slightest intention of letting the rain pass. Mordraud was pleased – he couldn’t wait to flex his muscles.

“
So, kiddiewinks. Today’s just a
perfect
day for training, don’t you think?!”

A somewhat listless chorus replied to the question launched by Gabor, the instructor. He was neither particularly stocky nor tall. Without his
arming doublet, he could easily have been mistaken for an elderly peasant, or a poor merchant. But Mordraud had once seen him knocking about an insolent young man. Rather than hands, the teacher had two farrier’s hammers on the ends of his arms.