With a nod as he passed, Gill said, “You ride over there to join them and I’ll make sure you’re dead before sundown.” He smiled at Savin’s outraged expression. “Hope that helps make your decision easier.”
He urged his horse forward, catching up to the king, who had never looked back. A moment later, Gill heard the jingling of harness and glanced over his shoulder. Savin and the honour guard were following them back to Castandres.
CHAPTER 22
“They have twice our number, at least,” the king said, when they got back to the illusory safety of the pickets. “If they choose to attack, what do we do?”
“Numbers aren’t everything,” Gill said, not sure what else he could do to allay the king’s concerns. “Troop quality counts for a lot, and attacking a defended position is always a big ask for peasant levies.”
“I doubt Savin’s troops are crack guardsmen,” the king said, looking around at the troops, who bore all the hallmarks of being levies themselves—improvised weapons, mismatched clothes.
Some men had the look of soldiers—probably mercenaries or members of the count’s personal retinue—but there weren’t enough of them to make a difference. They might hold back an initial assault, but without a solid force to back them up, Gill didn’t reckon they’d last a whole lot longer than the levies.
All in all, it didn’t look good. Gill knew they were going to have to get creative. Of course, Aubin and Chabris might conclude it better to side with the king once they’d had the chance to properly consider the idea.…
“Savin!” the king said. “Council of war in the tavern.”
Gill watched Savin carefully. He wasn’t convinced of the man’s loyalty. A quick escape might be his best option at this moment. While nobles didn’t tend to place much worth on their levies, the count would take his best troops with him. Guillot wondered if it would be worth arresting Savin now, before he had the chance to cause any trouble, but that wasn’t his call to make.
The king waited for the senior nobles to assemble in the tavern. He was starting to show some signs of agitation, but that was only to be expected. He had never fought in a battle before, much less commanded the opening clashes of a war. As with all heirs, he’d attended the Academy, but Gill doubted if he had done much more than pay lip service to his studies. This was as big a challenge as an experienced king and commander could expect to face. To have to deal with it at such an early stage of his reign would test him severely.
“Is everyone here?” Boudain finally said, when the taproom was full.
“Everyone of consequence,” Savin said.
“Can we expect any more troops to arrive in our support?”
“Possibly, Highness,” Savin said. “But in truth, I wouldn’t count on it. Not in time to make any difference.”
The king scratched his chin and stared into the distance. To Gill, it was clear that Boudain was doing everything he could so as not to appear out of his depth; he wondered if anyone else could see it. Other than the Count of Savin, who was older, most of the men in the room looked to be a decade younger than Gill. Few, if any, were old enough to have served in the last war. For them, this probably all seemed like a great adventure. Those that came out the other side wouldn’t think that way any longer.
“I, uh,” Boudain said, strain showing on his face. He looked across the gathering and his eyes stopped on Gill. The strain was replaced with an expression of relief. “Villerauvais! Villerauvais is one of our most experienced soldiers. He’s already made some interesting suggestions. How would you proceed in these circumstances?”
Every eye turned to Gill. He wanted to swear, but couldn’t with everyone looking at him.
“Aubin and Chabris are inexperienced commanders at the head of a levy army,” Gill said, doing his best to sound more confident than he was. He didn’t know much about either man, but reckoned he would have known more if they had distinguished themselves in any way. “We’re defending a position, rather than attacking. These three factors are strongly in our favour. As is the fact that Aubin and Chabris are likely arguing at this very moment over what to do next. Division within their ranks is an even bigger asset.”
He took a breath and looked around. Everyone seemed to be paying attention and no one had spoken up in criticism. Yet. He took that to be a good sign.
“With a fixed position to defend, our task is simpler, our tactics fewer. There’s only one, in fact, when you boil it down. Keep the enemy out. We repel their attacks until they break. With arguing commanders and inexperienced, untrained troops, that will be far sooner than it might otherwise.”
The room was completely silent. He wondered how many of the people gathered here knew who he was, and which version of his reputation they had heard. Would they have confidence in him? More importantly, did they have confidence in the king? The accusation levelled against him by the Count of Aubin was surely playing on everyone’s mind. Would the king’s entanglement with magic lose him the support of the few followers he did have?
“We’ll divide the picket into four sectors for defence and hold a reserve ready to reinforce any sector that’s coming under attack.” He kept talking, outlining basic tactics, as his mind ran through the danger that lurked closer to home. Although Gill had become more comfortable with the idea of magic and fantastic creatures being abroad once more, it was unlikely anyone else was. Solène needed to be ready to flee at a moment’s notice. If things turned against them, even the king wouldn’t be able to protect her.
“My Lord Savin, if you could have your five most senior commanders make themselves known to me, we can divide up our forces and allot assignments. In the meantime, have the men put to work reinforcing the pickets. We’ll need a platform around the inside to allow our men to stand above the attackers and strike down at them. Get them working on it now.”
Savin muttered something to Coudray, who left in a hurry, then pulled five men from the crowd, before ordering the rest to give them the room. Gill chewed his lip in consternation. His speech to the full room had been the easy part. Speaking in generalisations always was. Now he had to come up with specifics.
He walked over to the dead fire in the hearth and rooted around with the poker until he found a likely-looking piece of charred wood. Grabbing it, he walked to the largest section of exposed whitewashed wall. He hesitated for a moment before starting, but reckoned one day the tavern keeper might appreciate having the graffiti on his wall, and regale his customers with the day the king planned the defence of the village, and the first battle of what was sure to be a significant war, in that very room.
Working quickly, Guillot scratched some blocky shapes on the wall—the village—then drew a circle around that to indicate the pickets, although he had no idea what shape it actually was, or even if it completely enclosed the village. With a little luck, it would be by the time Aubin’s and Chabris’s men came knocking. That done, Gill drew one vertical and one horizontal line, breaking the diagram into four quadrants. Finally, he marked an “X” a short distance from his main drawing: the enemy.