The Red Wyvern - Katharine Kerr [96]
“Stop!” Maryn screamed. “They’re defenseless!”
Just in time the swords swung up and missed the men’s faces by a handsbreadth. The two stragglers fell to their knees as the squad swung their horses’ heads around and thundered by.
Up above the gate the Green Wyvern men flung down ropes. The prince called his men off and kept them off while the two stragglers climbed up. In the screaming confusion of battle, a little pool of silence spread around the prince and the men he’d allowed to escape, as if everyone were holding their breaths, half-expecting Maryn to have them pulled down and slain at the last moment. But they reached the top at last, and their fellows yanked them over to safety. One of the two turned and called down unthinkingly, “My thanks!”
“Be welcome!” Maryn shouted back. “And remember the pardons I’m offering to lord and rider both!”
For a moment the scene held, the prince on horseback down below, the men atop the wall transfixed. All at once someone on the regent’s side of the second wall started yelling orders. Maryn bowed from the saddle, turned his horse, and rode back to his own men. Open-mouthed with awe, Branoic watched him and wondered if it were a wrong thing to love another man the way he loved Prince Maryn.
By the middle of the afternoon the two armies had sorted out their respective positions. Prince Maryn’s men held the two outermost walls, Burcan held the third, and that left the grassy stretch betwixt the second and third walls belonging to nobody. The prince’s men who were trained in siegecraft got straight to work; they tore down the catwalks on the inside of the first wall so that they could build them anew on their side of the second. From there they could pull up and claim the wooden structures on Burcan’s side of that wall to ensure that it stayed theirs.
In the stretch between the outermost and the second walls, Maryn ordered Oggyn to set up the camp. Predictably enough, a good many of the noble-born grumbled at this decision when they met for the council of war.
“My apologies and all, Your Highness,” Daeryc said, “but I hope that these walls don’t turn into a trap instead of a safeguard.”
“True spoken,” Tieryn Gauryc put in. “With all due respect, my liege, we’re wondering if any good can come of this.”
Maryn looked round the council, catching the glance of each lord in turn.
“I remember a book my learned tutor once gave me to read.” Maryn nodded Nevyn’s way. “In the Dawntime a great leader of our people, Gwersinnoryc, made the same mistake Burcan is making now. Hwl Caisyr, the Rhwman, besieged Gwersinnoryc in his dun, and when Caisyr built a wall around his own men, our Gwersinnoryc let him do it. In the end it saved the Rhwmanes when Gwersinnoryc’s allies came to lift the siege.” He smiled briefly. “Let’s not forget Braemys of the Boar and the lords who deserted. If they rally and try to ride to the regent’s aid, they’ll not be trampling our camp and killing our horses, whether Burcan sallies or not.”
“Don’t you understand?” Burcan snarled. “I didn’t cede them the ring! We don’t have the men to hold it. What with the battles and the desertions, we’ve been bled white. Why lose more men trying to defend an impossible position?”
Tieryn Nantyn crossed his arms tightly over his chest and scowled. All around them the great hall fell silent as men and women alike turned to listen. At the head of the royal table King Olaen was shredding a bit of bread between his fingers, head down while the men argued. Merodda, sitting nearby, slewed round on the bench for a better look. Burcan’s face was a dangerous red.
“Too late to argue the point now.” Lord Belryc rose to join them. “They’ve got it, and that’s that.”
“True enough,” Burcan said. “But I’ll have it known that there were reasons for my decision.”
Nantyn stayed silent, glaring at him with ice-blue eyes. Belryc walked over and laid a friendly hand