“Not my responsibility,” Bell said. Roast-Beef William wanted to kick him. He went on, “I’m sure you’ll do your best.”
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir,” William said in a hollow voice. “But what will you and the Army of Franklin be doing in the meantime? You’re the best protection Peachtree Province has.”
“These past several weeks, I’ve done my best to drive General Hesmucet mad,” Bell replied. “If he’s chasing the Army of Franklin all over the landscape, he can’t very well march west against you, can he?”
“Well… no, sir,” William admitted. “But suppose he stops chasing you and goes on his merry way?”
Bell looked mysterious, which inclined Roast-Beef William toward violence against his person once more. Then he said, “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, since you’re going away, but they do call you Old Reliable, and I think you’ve earned the name.” After that sort of buildup, William expected to be disappointed by whatever he said, but he turned out to have made a mistake there, for Bell declared, “Ned of the Forest is bringing his unicorn-riders west to rejoin the Army of Franklin.”
“Is he?” William exclaimed. Bell’s leonine head solemnly nodded. William said, “That is good news, sir. Ned’s a fine officer, even if he can be a bit… touchy.”
“He couldn’t get along with Thraxton the Braggart, is what you mean,” Bell said. “Of course, nobody gets along with Thraxton.”
You didn’t think that when he put you in command here, William thought-which didn’t mean Bell was wrong. With a sigh, the departing officer said, “I wish things here would have turned out better.”
“So do I,” Bell replied. “If anyone is mad enough to believe I wanted to leave Marthasville to the tender mercies of the southrons… Do you know, Lieutenant General, when they paraded through the city, they had the gods-damned gall to use a blond as one of their standard-bearers-and not just a blond, mind you, but a blond underofficer, of all the impossible things!”
“Blonds in King Avram’s army have fought better than Detinans ever imagined they could,” Roast-Beef William said. “It’s no wonder some officers in this kingdom-in this army-have begun to wonder if we shouldn’t put crossbows in their hands and see what they can do for us.”
Bell sneered. “I heard about Brigadier Patrick the Cleaver’s memorial to King Geoffrey. I couldn’t very well keep from hearing about it, when I was flat on my back after I lost my leg. Look what happened to Patrick: he was ordered not to talk about it, and he’s been passed over for promotion every time a new command came open. No, thanks, Lieutenant General-I want no part of arming blonds.”
“If we can get enough Detinan soldiers, well and good, sir,” William said. “If not, and if blonds can fight-shouldn’t we get some use out of them, seeing that our enemies do?”
“Arming blonds destroys everything being a Detinan means,” Bell said.
“Yes, sir,” Roast-Beef William agreed. He had no great love for blonds-except, perhaps, for some of their prettier women. But he couldn’t help adding, “Losing the war destroys everything being a Detinan means, too. If arming blonds would keep that from happening now, we could worry about everything else later.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea. King Geoffrey doesn’t think it’s a good idea, either,” Bell said. “You may not care about my views, Lieutenant General, but those of the king will prevail.”
He was right, of course. He was right about Geoffrey’s suppression of Patrick the Cleaver’s memorial. He was right about Patrick’s failure to get promoted. Of course, Patrick the Cleaver probably didn’t altogether understand what being a Detinan meant. He wasn’t a northerner born, but had crossed the Western Ocean from the Sapphire Isle himself as a young man. To him, blonds might seem like people, not like natural-born serfs.
If a few brigades of well-armed blond crossbowmen and pikemen were waiting for me at Veldt, I’d be a lot happier going there-I could do something against Hesmucet in that case, William thought. But then he frowned. Or could I? Could I trust them not to shoot me in the back and go over to the southrons?
“If we did use them, we’d have to promise to treat them like Detinans once they left the army,” he mused.
“Cows will fly before we arm blonds,” Bell said. “Don’t waste your time thinking about it.”
And he was bound to be right about that, too. Roast-Beef William saluted. “If you will excuse me, sir? I have a lot to think about before I take over my new command.”
“Of course. You’re dismissed, Lieutenant General,” Bell said. “And I wish you the best of fortune in the west.”
“Thank you, sir,” William said. “The best fortune I can think of would be for the southrons not to come west at me. If tearing up the glideway line will keep that from happening, I’m all for it.”
“I think it will,” Bell said. “After all, the Grand Marshal’s army was nothing but a starving band of fugitives on the retreat from Pahzbull fifty years ago. They got in, but most of them didn’t come out again. I don’t see any reason why the same thing can’t happen to General Hesmucet and his men.”
“Yes, sir,” Roast-Beef William said. What went through his mind while he got out the polite words was, Oh, if I weren’t leaving, I’d tell him to his face what an idiot he is. The Sorbian army didn’t ruin the Grand Marshal and his host when he marched west. The Sorbian winter did. TheKingdom ofSorb has the worst winters in the world.PeachtreeProvince has some of the mildest winters in the world. Where are the blizzards to wreck Hesmucet’s army? If you have one up your sleeve, you’d better pull it out pretty gods-damned soon.
“Again, good luck to you, and I hope the southrons stay far away,” Bell said.
“Thank you, sir,” William replied. “So do I. May I ask you something?” He waited for the general commanding to nod, then put his question: “Now that I’m leaving, are you going to name Patrick the Cleaver wing commander in my place?”
Bell didn’t hesitate for a moment. “No. He’s a good fighting soldier, and brave as they come, but I don’t think he makes a suitable wing commander. Besides, even if I thought he did, even if I proposed it, King Geoffrey would never approve the appointment. We’ve already talked about the Cleaver’s memorial. The king doesn’t forget something like that.”
He was bound to be right. He didn’t have much of a sense for politics in the broader meaning of the word, but a shrewd understanding of the way the king’s mind worked went a long way toward making up for the lack. Roast-Beef William also noticed one other irony: Bell’s description of Patrick the Cleaver might have been a description of himself. Of course, Bell had been given command of not just a wing but an army. And, having got high command, he’d proceeded to prove he wasn’t suitable for it.
Well, that’s King Geoffrey’s worry now, William thought. He wantedBell in command, and he got him, and everything that went with him. I wonder when he’ll take Joseph the Gamecock off the shelf again and see if he can repair the damage.
William left the farmhouse. He swung up into the saddle of his unicorn to ride away from the Army of Franklin. As he booted the beast into motion, he felt as if he were escaping a sinking ship. But he shook his head a moment later. The only way to escape the sinking ship, he feared, would be to flee King Geoffrey’s kingdom altogether. The clouds gathering over the north looked very black indeed.
I can’t run away, Roast-Beef William thought. I’m a soldier. My duty is to fight for my king and my kingdom, to fight as long as I can and as hard as I can. I may lose-I likely will lose-but I have to try. He rode off to the west to do what he could to hold back the building storm.