The Bristling Wood - Katharine Kerr [69]
“Well, she’ll have a couple of days to rest now,” Caradoc said. “I think we’ll leave this ragtag piss-poor excuse for a troop here while you and I ride to see this so-called King Casyl.”
“Very well. I’ll admit we’re not much to look at these days.”
“Never were, and all these wretched women and barracks brats don’t help us give ourselves fine military airs.”
“You could have ordered us to leave them behind when we left Eldidd.”
“Horseshit. Believe it or not, there’s a bit of honor left in your old captain’s heart, lad. They’re a bunch of sluts, but it was my men who swelled their bellies, wasn’t it? Besides, there was enough grumbling about leaving Eldidd as it was. Didn’t want open mutiny.” Caradoc sighed in profound melancholy. “We got soft there. That’s the trouble with staying in one place too long. Should’ve left Eldidd long ago.”
“I still don’t see why we left it now.”
Caradoc shot him a sour glance and led the way out of the camp to the riverbank. In the slanting sun, the water ran rippled gold through banks soft with wild grass.
“Don’t repeat this to anyone, or I’ll smash your face for you,” Caradoc said. “But I moved us out because of this dream I had.”
Maddyn stared, frankly speechless.
“In the dream someone was telling me that it was time. Don’t ask me why or time for what, but I heard this voice, like, and it sounded like a king’s voice, all arrogant and commanding, telling me that it was time to leave and ride north. If we starve in Pyrdon, then I’ll know the dream came from the demons, but by the gods, I’ve never had a dream like that before. Tried to ignore it for a blasted eightnight. Kept coming back. Call me daft if you want.”
“Naught of the sort. But I’ve got to say that I’m surprised to the bottom of my heart.”
“Not half as surprised as I was. I’m getting old. Daft. Soon I’ll be drooling in a chair by a tavern fire.” Caradoc sighed again and shook his head in mock sadness. “But we’re about ten miles from this King Casyl’s dun. Tomorrow we’ll ride up there and see just how daft I was. Let’s get back to camp now. I’ll be leaving Owaen in charge, and I want to give him his orders.”
On the morrow, Maddyn and Caradoc left the camp early and followed the river up to the town of Drwloc. After the splendors of Abernaudd, the town wasn’t much as royal cities went, about two thousand houses crammed inside a timber-laced stone wall. As they led their horses along streets paved with half-buried logs for want of cobbles, Maddyn began to wonder if Caradoc was indeed going daft. If this was the jewel of the kingdom, it seemed that the king wouldn’t be able to afford the silver daggers. They found a tavern over by the north gate, got themselves ale, then asked casual questions about the king and his holdings. When the tavernman held forth upon his liege’s honor, bravery, and farseeing mind without ever mentioning luxuries or reserves of cash, Caradoc grew positively gloomy.
“Tell me somewhat,” the captain said at last. “Does His Highness keep a large standing army?”
“As large a one as he can feed. You never know what those Eldidd dogs are going to do.”
This news made him a good bit more cheerful. They took their ale outside to sit on a small wooden bench in front of the tavern. In the warm hazy day, the townsfolk hurried past on assorted errands, an old peasant leading a mule laden with cabbages, a young merchant in much mended checked brigga, a pretty lass who ignored them both in the most pointed fashion.
“We should have ridden north earlier,” Caradoc said. “His Highness isn’t going to want to feed extra men all winter when the summer’s fighting is done. Ah, curse that dream! May the demon who sent it to me drown in a