Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [151]
But I was in command of this folly. And so I narrowed my eyes and studied the lay of the land. It would have been a simpler business in the late autumn, when the cattle were herded into pastures abutting the keep, close to the byres and hay-barns. Now they were still spread out far and wide, gleaning the hillsides.
"How many of Leodan's men are like to respond?" I asked Urist.
"On short notice?" He shrugged. "A score.”
I lifted my gaze to the keep's towers. "Sentries on duty?”
"Of course." Urist's teeth gleamed. "But 'tis a half-moon tonight.”
I shaded my eyes and gazed southward. "All right, then. A pair of men on each of the first two gates; one to open and close, one to guard his back. A dozen to drive the cattle and ride herd on them. I'm not doing this for naught.”
"That leaves…" Urist counted on his fingers. "Fourteen to fight?”
I bared my own teeth in a smile. "Afraid, are you?”
"No," he said stubbornly.
"Good." I clapped his shoulder. "Let's regroup and await nightfall.”
Like Clunderry, Briclaedh's estates lay alongside taisgaidh land. We'd made our camp in a clearing that afternoon. We'd had a devil of a time making our way through the thick undergrowth and getting there unseen, but under Urist's guidance, we'd managed it. The woods felt stifling and oppressive, and the horses were restless and stamping. Still, no one came. Unlike Clunderry, it seemed Briclaedh's folk weren't eager to venture into the sacred places; or mayhap it was simply that Briclaedh's garrison commander hadn't thought to post a reward for sighting strangers the way Urist had.
I gave the men my orders. There was no quarrelling; they merely nodded, and the dozen assigned as cattle drovers began cutting hazel switches.
Dusk came early in the dense woods. We led the horses in a single file to the verge of the copse, wincing at every crackling step. There, we waited for the twilight to fade over the valley.
It was a clear night. The waxing half-moon hung over the eastern horizon, growing brighter as the sky darkened, an array of stars emerging. Warm squares of golden light marked the windows of Briclaedh Castle and its outlying buildings. Across the gentle, rolling hills, cattle settled for the evening, legs tucked beneath them, dark, dim lumps under the night sky.
"Ready?" I asked in a low voice.
There were murmurs of assent.
"Let's go, then.”
We moved out from the shadows of the copse, riding slow and fanning out across the hill as we descended into the valley. There was no fence on the taisgaidh side of Briclaedh, and it was my hope that we were far enough from the castle sentries to pass undetected into the pasturage.
It worked, too. I sent the two teams of gatekeepers riding hastily toward the south, searching for gates rendered near-invisible by darkness. The rest of us waited, horses milling, while cattle lifted their heads and gazed at us with incurious eyes. I checked the Bastard's reins to be sure they were knotted together, a trick Urist had taught me.
In the distance, a torch kindled; then another, nearer.
The gatekeepers were in place.
I nodded to the drovers. "Go.”
There is no quiet way to stage a cattle-raid. The drovers spread out across the hills and began yelling and shouting, swinging their hazel switches. Cattle bawled and lowed, lumbering to their feet in their awkward way, hindquarters first. The drovers shouted back and forth to one another, rounding up as many head of cattle as they could find and driving them toward the first gate in a massive, pounding press of confusion, all of which went on for far too long.
"Fun, eh?" Urist grinned.
I pointed toward the castle. "Here they come.”
Dark figures came pelting over the fields. Urist had guessed wrongly. There were no more than a dozen mounted warriors, clinging bareback to saddleless horses; but there were dozens more following on foot, a swift-moving stream only a