He stepped back and regarded his work for a moment, refining his plan as he did, then wrote the numbers one to five down the side.
“We’ll divide our force in two,” Gill said. “One half will be split up between the four sections of the picket, while the other half will be held back in reserve to assist anywhere along the picket that’s getting hit hard. The key to this battle is holding the enemy off until they break or decide that the cost of getting through is too high. There are more battles to be fought in this war, and we’re not even facing the real enemy yet.”
“Hold on, and hope they go away?” Savin said. “That’s your plan?”
Gill knew this criticism was coming sooner or later, so it was no surprise. “What would your suggestion be, my Lord?”
“To fight like men,” the count said. “We lead our troops out onto the field and give battle properly. With honour. Not like caged rats.”
“Where their numerical advantage will allow them to envelop our flanks and slaughter us to a man?” Gill said. “The only way we limit their strength of numbers is here, behind our pickets. A man behind a wall is worth at least two trying to get through it. They won’t want to commit to a full siege. They could easily wake up one morning and find the Prince Bishop’s army at their back. With us at their front, they’d be wiped out before lunch.”
“When do you expect them to come at us?” Savin said, sounding suitably cowed.
Gill shrugged. “Who knows? They might even decide that we’re not worth the effort and march away. I think that’s unlikely, though. So long as the king lives, he’s a threat to anyone who wants the throne for themselves. I’m sorry to say it, Highness, but there are three men whose survival depends on your death. Likewise, yours depends on them dying.”
“Lord Savin is right,” the king said, finally breaking his silence. “We can’t kill them in here, hiding behind our walls.”
“Today isn’t about killing them,” Gill said. “Probably not tomorrow either. It’s about surviving long enough to hit back at them. For that we need to be steadfast and patient. If you rush in now, Highness, you’ll lose everything. We might rout your cousins on the open field if we go after them now—stranger things have happened—but we’ll break ourselves in the process, and when it comes to facing Amaury, he’ll smash us.”
The king didn’t like that idea, if the expression on his face was anything to go by. Gill didn’t reckon he was going to like much of what happened in the coming days, but if nothing else, it would give Boudain the chance to prove he was up to the job of being king. If he lacked the resolve, perhaps it would be better if one of his cousins got the job. Beating Amaury would take grit and a willingness to get his hands dirty. If he didn’t have that in him, this was the place to find out.
Gill allotted the assignments to Savin’s chosen officers and sent them off to get organised.
“Now we need to find a vantage point to keep an eye on everything,” Gill said. They wandered out into the village for a look around, but Gill was pretty sure there was only one place that fit the bill. There was a tall hayloft, and a clock tower on the village hall, but the church steeple was the highest point in sight. Gill wondered how the deacon would react to his coming calling again. And to him knocking some holes in the steeple.
The deacon seemed a little more relaxed about receiving visitors this time. So far, the army had behaved itself, and the presence of the king was another comforting factor. At least until word spread that a sorceress had cast magic on him. That wasn’t a problem Gill had seen coming. With a little luck, they’d have dealt with Amaury before it became too much of an issue.
The deacon cried out in protest when Gill smashed out a few slates on each side of the steeple’s roof, giving them a panoramic view of the countryside. The king’s small army was hard at work strengthening and raising the pickets, and building the platform around the inside. Beyond, the enemy army was setting up camp. That could mean they planned to attack right away and were hoping to lull the king into a false sense of security by appearing to be settling in for the night; or, it might indicate that they would wait at least until the next day before attacking. Uncertainty had always been the part that Gill found hardest. That, and the waiting. Most things about war were hard, now that he thought about it. However, he suspected Aubin and Chabris would argue over the king’s offer until the time limit expired, by which point it would be dark, and madness to attack with inexperienced troops.
“There’s a lot of them,” the king said, bringing his borrowed telescope to bear once again. “Can we really hold them off?”
“I’d like to say yes, Highness,” Gill said, “but it’d be a lie. There’s no reason why we can’t, but so many things can go wrong when you’ve an untested army. Believe it or not, it’ll be better if your cousins surround us. Our troops will fight a lot harder if they think there’s nowhere to run.”
The king laughed. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
“There’s not much to like at a time like this, Highness.”
“What do we do?”
“What men in our situation always do,” Gill said. “They make the best of it.”
“How many wars have you fought in?”
Gill tried to count, but realised that with few exceptions, all battles blurred into one. What constituted a war, anyway? He’d fought in battles that had cost hundreds and thousands of men their lives, but most would probably not have been considered wars. “Enough that I have trouble counting, Highness.”
“I feel ashamed every time I think of you,” the king said.
Frowning, Gill stared at his king.
“A man who has served his kingdom so faithfully should never have been treated the way you were,” Boudain said. “I’m sure you realise the Prince Bishop had a hand in it, but my father should have been stronger. Should have been able to recognise who his true friends were.”
“I…” Gill said. What was there to say to that? “Thank you, Highness.”
“I appreciate you standing with me on this. After all you’ve done, and been put through.” He returned his gaze to the enemy, and raised the telescope. “If we get out of this, I’ll do everything I can to undo the damage the Prince Bishop and my father caused you.”
CHAPTER 23
There were few spare moments when an army was preparing for battle, but when the commanders paused their discussions, Gill took the opportunity for a much-needed break. Putting into place the command structures for the village’s defence was tedious but necessary work. Everyone had to know who was responsible for what. They couldn’t risk the chance of something going unaddressed because everyone thought it was someone else’s job.
An idea had been forming in Gill’s mind for a while, and he allowed himself to follow it, which led him back to the seamstress’s house, to ask her to sew a banner for the king. He wasn’t sure why, but it seemed like the type of thing that might come in handy; if raised at the right moment, it might put mettle back into wavering troops. He knew only too well what a man would do for his king, and knowing that the king was with you in the thick of it might be the difference between fighting on or turning and running.
Task completed, he turned his mind to other necessities, like his swords. He’d left them sitting in the Wounded Lion in Mirabay. Like as not, they’d been stolen by now, along with everything else he’d left there. The swords, and Valdamar’s armour, which was with them, were all made from Telastrian steel. Worth a fortune. The innkeeper had appeared to be one of dal Ruisseau Noir’s confederates, so perhaps he had placed them in storage. It would be worth checking at the end of all this, assuming he survived.