The dinner dragged on far longer than Galin would have preferred but every time he tried to excuse himself with an excuse about the needs of the company, Luthene’s elbow would dig into his side while she politely told him that there was someone else that could see to that sort of thing and they would be delighted to remain longer to entertain their guests. Galin thought, as he sipped at a cup of wine and pretended to listen to one of the interminable stories of Cittapashe from the junior ambassador, that his ribs probably were even worse for wear after that dinner than when he fought Cooper in the company’s camp months before, and he was probably right. When the ambassadors had finally finished emptying Galin’s cellars of the better of his decent wines and excused themselves for the evening, he was close to losing his mind from the tedium of it all. “What in the name of the Maker was that wee one rambling on about,” he asked Luthene as they returned to their chambers. “Either he was talking about finding some pretty young lad to share his bed or some bleeding poetic metaphor and either way, he could have seen me age to grey waiting for it to finish. I wish you’d let me tell ‘em about the Valley some, a proper sort of story with all the blood and screaming and steel. But no, it’s all about making them feel at home so I sound like a damned eunuch.” Still grousing, Galin pulled the chamber door shut behind them and pushed the dinner out of his mind, ready to enjoy an evening in his own bed before he had to return to the field in the morning.
Dawn came faster than he had hoped and Galin cursed as he slipped out of bed, letting Luthene remain asleep a few minutes longer while he readied himself. Unlike the men in Cooper’s section, most of them skirmishers before the massacre under Cedric, Galin preferred to go into battle armored in mail with his sword, spear, and shield, taking comfort in the familiarity of their weight and the knowledge that he was trained well in their use. The rustling of the links of his mail coat stirred Luthene as he struggled into it, pulling it on over his head until it hung comfortably, then fastening his war belt around his waist, distributing the weight of the steel links more evenly. He pulled on his captured helmet, taken months before in the courtyard he now called his own, and winked at Luthene as he hefted his blank shield. “I did hear you yesterday, love, but once more, I will fight with a plain shield. It’s giving me the Maker’s own luck, so who am I to judge, eh?” Grinning even as he lowered the hinged cheek pieces of the helmet into place, he left Luthene to prepare herself in peace while he mustered the men and ambassadors for the journey ahead. If all went well, they could be there and back in five days, so he sent one of the men about to finish his night watch to the storehouse to have the necessary supplies ready for Cooper’s men.
Galin did not see a need to inspect the men with Cooper, trusting his lieutenant to put the proper fear of the Maker into them as they blearily took their places in the ranks, no doubt cursing the spears and shields they were being forced to carry as well as their bows. Instead, he walked to the tavern and called up the stairs to the ambassadors that they would have to be ready to travel within the hour, and, once he heard a groaning, muffled reply from one of the juniors, he ducked into the kitchen. The ovens were just finishing with the first loaves of the morning and Galin stole one from the ledge where they were cooling despite the half protest of one of the women who was busily preparing for the guests’ breakfast. By the time he finished it and wheedled a pair of hard boiled eggs and a piece of hard cheese from the kitchen staff, the ambassadors were finishing their own meal and Galin hurried them to the courtyard where their borrowed mounts were waiting, one with the chest lashed to its saddle, along with a handful of outriders that would scout ahead of the party as it moved toward the city. Cooper was with them, leading Galin’s horse with a placid smile. “Wouldn’t do well to not have our captain riding with these grandees about, would it, sir?” Galin glared daggers at him and pulled himself into the saddle with some effort.
“If I fall on my arse, Cooper, I’ll break you to the ranks and have you shoveling shit til Maria can’t stand the smell of you,” Galin whispered viciously in Goidelic. “More than she already can’t.” He straightened in the saddle and smiled at the ambassadors. “Gentleman, we march. Stay in the center of the column when you can, and your box there with you. Cooper, if you please, one section troop to the front, two to the rear, and every two miles, countermarch and rotate ‘em. This ain’t some stroll to the harvest fair. Your lads are too used to being skirmishers. It’s time to teach them some regular soldiering too.” The column snaked its way out of the fort’s palisade and out into the rolling hills of the Adelunan interior, moving briskly as they looked to cover as much ground as they could on the first day when they were well rested and had eaten proper meals the day before. Galin, riding with the ambassadors, found himself trapped in conversation again, this time probing questions about the state of the City and her Queen, questions he did not feel comfortable answering. Instead, he often took his leave of the group, trusting Luthene to handle herself well with them, and rode with the scouts instead. Most of them were men from the grasslands near the Highland’s coast, comfortable on their nimble ponies, but it was better company than the embassy.
Near sunset, as the men of Cooper’s section were just starting to complain even more loudly about the heaviness of their gear and the blisters being rubbed by their boots and Galin was about to endure another story about life as a fisherman’s son, two of the riders came galloping back toward the column, whooping and shouting to get Galin’s attention.
“Troop, halt! Rear section, cover the flanks. Embassy inside the shield ring. Cooper, get them ready,” he shouted then galloped, bouncing ungracefully in the saddle, to meet the outriders.
“Cavalry, sir, must be twenty-odd, and ain’t local. Bohari, by the look of them, and coming fast. We just nearly got ourselves cut up, coming over a hill and there they was.” Galin did not have time to wonder what a troop of lancers from the plains were doing this far south. Instead, he spurred his way back to the column, nearly tumbling out of the saddle as he reached the center of the ring through a gap in the wall. “Scouts, stay mounted, ambassadors as well. If things go to shit, you ride like hell. Luthene will lead you.” Galin looked at her sharply to quell any protest at his order, then swung himself out of the saddle. “A spear, Cooper, if you please?” As Cooper grimly handed Galin the ash shaft, Galin slipped his left hand into the straps of his shield. Then, ready for battle, he pushed his way into the battle line between Cooper and Lugh, tapping his shield against theirs.
With the setting sun at their backs, the Bohari horsemen crested a hillock a half mile away. As they were silhouetted against the blood-red evening sky, Galin growled, deep in his throat. “Steady boys, steady. Shields up, feet braced. Ain’t no horse alive that’ll want to get stuck on a spear, so stab at their faces and they’ll throw the bastards off instead of charging home. We stay steady and we’re fine, you hear me?” The lancers approached at a trot, howling their ululating war cries, then jammed back their heels, sending their mounts galloping toward the knot of them clustered around the ambassadors. “Steady…. Steady…!” Galin crouched, his shield raised, and cocked back his right arm like a trebuchet’s as he tightened his grip on his spear, waiting to thrust it home as the Bohari closed the final yards and the earth trembled with the striking of hooves and the air stank with sweat and fear. Now, he thought detachedly, he would find out just how good a teacher he had been. He hoped, for his own sake, he had been a good one.