Upon reaching the first of the fallen black stones, she reined Dary to a halt and dismounted. Immediately she heard the approach of her guard, four warriors on splendid warhorses, red capes flying, sunlight flashing on silver mail.
“Highness,” said Lieutenant Tyrel of the Royal Guard, “allow us to search the ruins first before you enter.”
“Oh, nonsense, Lieutenant!” Sofy protested. “It’s no fun exploring when you’ve already checked everything for me! Besides, these things have been deserted for centuries!”
“All the same, Highness,” he said, handing her his mount’s halter. “There could be bandits, or scavengers.”
Tyrel and another man drew their blades and climbed over the stones through a gap in the wall, leaving Sofy minding the horses while the other two guards rode the perimeter. That much, at least, they trusted her with. She was not much of a rider yet, compared to men such as these, but she could mind horses well enough.
Soon the guardsmen came back to say all was clear. Sofy climbed gingerly over the rocks, still not entirely accustomed to her leather boots and the riding pants she wore beneath her dress. She wished she could discard the dress, but there were too many men around who would find such a thing confronting. Whatever her recent adventures, she remained a princess of Lenayin, and a princess of Lenayin could not in good conscience wear pants alone.
Within the wall, she found herself in a wide courtyard of lush grass. Rising about, forming a square, were the remains of defensive walls.
“A place for perhaps fifty men and their horses,” said Lieutenant Tyrel. He pointed toward a large gap in the wall. “That would have been the main gate. They would have fetched water from the stream in the next valley.” Sofy hadn’t noticed a stream, but perhaps that was the difference between herself, who rode purely for pleasure, and Tyrel, who did not.
“It would be very crowded for so many horses in here,” Sofy said.
“Only if they were attacked,” said Tyrel. “Most other times the horses would graze free. These walls are only for defence in face of a superior enemy.”
“Not from an army, surely,” said Sofy. She wandered alongside the near wall, sidestepping fallen stones. On the most well-preserved portions of wall she could see battlements, where archers would have defended the walls from attack. “Fifty men behind these walls would barely last past breakfast against a determined infantry.”
She nearly smiled at her observation…as if she would know such things. Well, she was learning. She’d ridden with her sister Sasha in the Udalyn rebellion, and now she found herself six weeks and counting in the company of the greatest army Lenayin had ever sent to war. Sofy was good at asking questions and listening. In the presence of so many great warriors, all pining for their wives and daughters left behind, it was not hard to find knowledgeable men who found pleasure in sitting with her over a meal discussing such things as battlefield formations, infantry tactics and the offensive deployment of cavalry.
A gleam in the grass caught her eye. She stooped, and picked up a small piece of metal covered in dirt. Brushing at it, she found it was a coin. “Oh, how wonderful! It has markings… I can’t read them, it’s too dirty. Perhaps I’ll have found a clue. I must have this cleaned.” She tucked it into the little pouch at her belt.
Sofy wanted to climb to the battlement, but Tyrel forbade it.
“It’s my neck on the block if you so much as twist your finger, begging your pardon, Highness. You’ve a wedding to attend, and I’ll see that you reach it in perfect health.”
A wedding. Just like that, her day darkened. Suddenly, the old walls lost their fascination, and she yearned once more for the freedom of the plains.
They rode down to water their horses at the little stream Captain Tyrel had spotted. Thick bushes grew there, and a few small, twisted trees, clinging close to the water’s edge. Sofy remembered the coin and washed it in the crystal water, but the dirt was centuries ingrained, and the metal itself seemed black with age. Perhaps someone back at the column would know a way of making it clean.
Finding the Lenay column once more was not difficult-it stretched for a half day’s march and more. So many men could be heard well before they were seen-a tinkle of metal, a creaking of leathers, a whisper of boots through the long grass. And coughs, whinnies, conversation and snatches of song. And, because they were Lenay, laughter. Lenay men made jokes to pass the time. Sofy had overheard some on her daily rides, and most had been coarse enough to make her blush bright pink. But that had been weeks ago; now she only smiled. She could hardly begrudge them their humour after six weeks’ march, and more yet to come.
Then they cleared a rise and she could see it. The column snaked across the hillside, as untidy and irregular as the Lenay people themselves. Certainly there was little discipline in their formations, as men walked where they would and stopped where they would, and went wandering off to the column’s side as they felt the urge to relieve themselves, or observe some passing curiosity. Only the banners held the broader column into its preferred order-the bannermen had been informed of the dishonour to their unit and region should they fall behind or lose their place, and so far, none had done so.
Sofy galloped to them, unable to see the column’s head. Men saw her coming, four Royal Guardsmen at her sides and another ten fanning further behind and to the flanks. Cheers went up, and swords were raised to salute her. Sofy grinned and waved back, coming close and then turning across them, heading toward the front.
These here were men of Rayen, southeastern Lenayin-she could tell well before she saw a banner from the long, thick locks of their Goeren-yai men. They favoured hard leather armour, studded and decorated with roundrel-pattern adornments. Many had shields slung at their backs-a rare thing for Lenay militia, though recently made more common by their provision courtesy of the king, as a gift to all the men who marched.
The column trailed along a gentle hillside, into a low valley then up the other side. Clearing the crest, Sofy found the Neysh cavalry, gathered to the front of the Neysh portion of column-crown-funded regulars in heavier armour, and noble lords in finer clothes and family colours. They also saluted her, most of them Verenthane, save for small groups of wild-haired Goeren-yai horsemen on smaller Lenay dussiehs.
As she passed the Neysh bannermen, Sofy knew she was getting close. Now came the Ranash, and she did not raise nearly the number of cheers from them as she had from the southerners. Ranash was northern, and entirely Verenthane. They recalled the Udalyn Rebellion, and they recalled the youngest princess of Lenayin’s part in it. Few appeared to blame her openly to any great degree, reserving that displeasure for her sister, Sasha. Most believed Sofy to have been in Sasha’s thrall…which was perhaps true, Sofy admitted to herself now, but not in the way they thought.
The Ranash infantry were more orderly too, and far better equipped, with heavier, black uniform armour, shields, helms and even spears. There were no earrings here, no tattoos, no decorations of any kind save a greater number of banners, many denoting family symbols that middle and southern Lenayin disdained, and many eight-pointed Verenthane stars on poles or flags.
The Ranash cavalry, when Sofy reached them, gave her no salute at all. Noblemen watched her coldly beneath heavy steel helms, and heavily armoured regulars chose not to even notice her passage. There were not so many of the Ranash as the Neysh, as all the north bordered onto hostile Cherrovan, and their forces were in much demand at home. With this in mind, the north had conducted early winter forays into Cherrovan before the heavier snows set in, and had inflicted great losses. Sofy had heard tales of entire Cherrovan villages destroyed, and warbands trapped in valleys and slaughtered without mercy. Most officers she’d spoken to seemed to think the thrust would weaken the Cherrovan sufficiently to keep Lenayin secure in the column’s absence. Sofy wondered how they could be so sure that it wouldn’t have just inflamed Cherrovan into a more serious attack in the months ahead.