Even if he did not like them, Galin had learned to respect the skill of the skirmishers under his command. While they were ill-disciplined and bordered on mutiny every day, they took admirable care of their arms and equipment and fought well in the field. As a line soldier, it was not something Galin completely countenanced but he would rather them be rebellious but good in a fight rather than toy soldiers who would run at the first sight of trouble. Some of the men had begun to warm to Galin, as he admitted that he was not familiar with their sort of fighting and wanted to learn rather than simply blunder about. Unfortunately, Owen Cooper was not such a man. He and many of the men in the troop resented Domnall’s promotion of Galin and with the man dead and the company wracked with the devastating consequences of the plague, there was little room to address the issue. Galin, though none of them new it, agreed, wanting nothing more than to return to his spot in the shield wall where he could fight the way he understood best, but that was not to be. Instead, he practiced with his crossbow and studied maps, using them to pick spots where he thought the skirmishers would be best deployed in a given fight. He would discuss these dispositions with Luthene in the evenings after she tried to drum the letters of Adeluna into his head. He was a slow student with the letters but he found that, despite himself, he was taking a small measure of joy in learning the art of the ambush, of stalking and falling on unsuspecting enemies. There was something about the personal nature of it, the test of skill as well as strength, that played to his vanity and slowly, Galin began to understand the role of his troops.

Unfortunately, that understanding did not extend to the company’s new captain, another man from the shield wall, one of Domnall’s men from the beginning. He had earned a place of honor in the wall, protecting Domnall with his shield, and had fought more single combats than he could count. His reputation as a fighter of renown was beyond question but his intellect left something to be desired. Galin would have admitted, even before his transfer to the skirmishing troops, that there was a value in reconnaissance while Cedric, the new captain, preferred to simply plough ahead and assume that he would overawe and beat back any opposition. Galin’s men were particularly hard done by this, as they were employed more often as heavy infantry. But this morning, at least, they were allowed to do what they had trained for, released by Cedric to scout out the position of an army of peasants that had risen in the country districts of Adeluna, using the horror of the plague as a means to demand an elevation of their status. Galin had argued with Cedric the night before that advancing this far from the city without knowing the disposition of the enemy was tantamount to suicide. Cedric, after a few carefully worded insults about Galin’s courage, allowed him to take his men ahead of the main body and preform a reconnaissance, even though both men knew that the information would be ignored out of hand regardless.

“Well look at the little runt from the line, playing at being one of us,” muttered Cooper to his partner as the pair threaded their way through a vineyard’s rows. “Can’t shoot a proper bow and all his learning is from books and his woman. What sort of leader’s that, eh?” His partner just grunted and shrugged, knowing that it was always better to let Cooper have his say and not bother objecting. The tall skirmisher, a head taller than nearly anyone else in the company, sniffed the air experimentally. Something seemed off, but he could not place it. To his right and left, a screen of skirmishers, working in pairs, moved forward, eyes scanning the area for the enemy position. Behind them, harshly calling out orders for pairs to move this way or that, was Galin, his crossbow in his hands and a young boy next to him, one of the sons of a man in the troop, holding a horn in his sweaty hands.

Galin’s eyes scanned the vineyard up to the stone wall again, sensing more than seeing that there was no one there. Ahead, over two miles of fields, bounded by a thick, forested grove on the east and a deep creek on the west, stretched out ahead of him. He nodded to the boy, who put the horn to his lips and blew the three short notes of the advance. All along the line, one man of each pair would nock his bow, ready to loose over the head of his comrade who advanced to the fieldstone wall. Once each man made the wall, he would ready his bow while the first man joined him. Galin noticed Cooper moving with a deliberate, insolent slowness, as though the whole experience was below his dignity and he bit back a curse. On his right, the grey-streaked hair of his newest trooper, the man that had come south with Lajaka, flashed for a moment as he sprinted to the wall. Galin still did not know what to make of the man but he had proved a competent solider and, with the men he had, that was a blessing.

Galin and the boy reached the wall a few moments later and Galin whistled low to get the attention of his men. “Two pairs, over the wall, as far as where the creek bends in, and report back. Cooper, Mathuin, your sections. Now move!” Cooper grunted and Mathuin sketched a salute, moving with their partners over the wall and into the field of winter wheat. The four men leapfrogged their way forward, one man moving while the other kept his bow ready for a threat. Galin watched their progress, nervously glancing right and left, waiting for some ambush to appear from the farmland around them. It was a different sort of nervousness than what he knew from the shield wall. There the moment of battle was inevitable and that inevitability was a comfort, while here, flung ahead of the main body, he could be attacked at any moment without warning. That uncertainty fed his fear as he watched the four figures clearing the field and approaching the creek.

Cooper was uneasy. Something seemed wrong and he could not be sure exactly what it was. His partner saw the look of discomfort and was instantly alert. If Cooper thought there was something wrong, odds were, something was very, very wrong. Cooper sniffed the air again and something caught his attention, something like sweat and leather and sickness. He could not place it yet, but it was disturbing. As he moved closer to the source of the scent, he heard a shout from Mathuin. As though by a mage’s tricks, the peasant army streamed into view, gathering on the far side of the fields, arrayed in three blocks. “Time to go, I think,” Cooper said to the rest and sprinted back up the small hill to the vineyard. The rest of the company had arrived by then and Galin was in deep conversation with Cedric about their reconnaissance. Cooper walked up to them and cleared his throat. “Three battles, sir,” he said, ignoring Galin and speaking directly to the captain. “Looks like a fair few hundred in each, but not many lads with armor or proper weapons, but I could see a few among them. Something strange too, smelled like sick livestock or somewhat like it as we got down in the wheat.” The commander nodded and sent both Galin and Cooper back to their troop, now taking a permanent station just ahead of the stone wall while the rest of the company formed up a hundred yards ahead on the slope, touching shields and straightening ranks.

“Ain’t right,” muttered Cooper. “Let us out ahead, see, and we can put the bastards into a right panic before the wall gets to ‘em.” Galin, walking next to him, was inclined for once to agree with the man.

“He’s making a bollocks of this, Cooper, and that’s for sure. And the Maker knows it must be a terrible stupid one, if even I can see it,” he said with a grin to hide the nervousness he felt. “And Cooper, no matter what Cedric’s said, we’ll keep moving behind the main force. A hundred yards or so, same spacing as this, but I don’t want those poor buggers to be without some cover. You’ll do me the favor of keeping track of the left of our line?”

Without waiting for an answer, Galin moved back to the center of the skirmishers’ position, craning his neck to find Luthene in the shield wall among his old unit. He touched the amulet around his neck, praying that she would be safe as the shield wall began to lumber forward. The skirmishers kept their interval behind, even as Cedric roared for them to stay back at the wall. Galin knew that if things went well he would be broken back to the ranks for his defiance but there was no other option to try and avert what he was fast seeing turn into a disaster. What was it Cooper had said he smelled? Sick livestock and damp leather? He chewed his lip, wondering on the source of the smell as the front ranks of the shield wall reached the place where the land narrowed at the creek’s bend. Livestock… leather… something putrid… Galin’s mind flashed back to his time in the Valley and when he was billeted next to the stables of the Adelunan cavalry. They had ridden hard for miles, rubbing sores on the backs of their blown horses and the smell was one of sweat and infection and saddle leather.

“Cedric! ‘Ware cavalry! Cavalry!” Galin shouted but the commander, already incensed at Galin’s disobedience, ignored his words as the babblings of a coward that had no ability to even follow simple orders. After the peasants were seen off, he would make the skirmishers suffer.

From a small defile, just beyond the edge of the forest, four long blasts sounded on a horn and closed-packed ranks of horsemen poured out, aimed like a hammer blow at the shield wall’s left flank. Hooves pounded the new winter wheat into flour, trampling the stalks as the horsemen lowered their lances and spurred their horses on for the last hundred yards. Even as Cedric tried to turn his line in and present the horsemen with a thicket of spears, the charge struck home with a crash and the screaming began.

Luthene didn’t remember the last time she felt so nervous before the start of a battle. The start of the war, perhaps, before she had moved up the ranks to leading it. But in those days, they relied heavily on their skirmishing troops; Cedric, their new commander, disliked such tactics even more than Galin. At least Galin was learning how to lead them, studying maps and describing various strategies with Luthene at the end of the day while she ground up various herbs she’d need to make the ointments or medicines the Company might need. Sometimes, if she’d had an especially long day, she might fall asleep to the sound of his voice.

The threat of plague had passed a few days after Lajaka and Mathuin had joined the Company, and Luthene had returned to training with her unit. The first few days were gruelling, as it had been weeks since she’d been to the training yard save to treat injuries or help break up fights. Lajaka was there as well, and to her surprise, the men didn’t complain overmuch about having two women in their unit. Luthene had already proven herself in combat and they accepted her, and Lajaka earned some respect by being willing to challenge any of the men who had a problem with her… and winning, more often than not.

This morning, Luthene was positioned near the line’s right flank, in the front, and Lajaka was immediately to her left. The two women exchanged a glance just before the line started to press forward. Domnall usually had the skirmishers out longer than this, Luthene remembered. Cedric had said this would be an easy fight— just a peasants’ revolt, after all— but it didn’t seem right to call them back this early. Then Luthene heard Galin shout something, and her heart beat faster in panic. Galin repeated his warning, and this time she heard it, just before the horn blasts: cavalry.

A shield wall was a solid formation against enemy infantry. It wasn’t perfect, however. An enemy line could break through a thin wall, and the formation often fell apart in a hurry that way. Fortunately, their line was deep enough that this was unlikely. A bigger challenge was when an enemy tried to attack their flank. A shield wall was slow to turn, no matter how many times Cedric yelled at them to hurry. Men along the left flank were falling, and others dropped their shields and spears and tried to run. Suddenly this solid formation was full of holes and falling apart. Luthene tried to hold her position, but too many men around her had broken.

As Luthene turned to run, she wondered if she had actually heard the order to retreat, or if she only imagined it. Regardless, it was the only tactically-sound option left. She held on to her spear and shield in case they were able to regroup, and risked a quick sideways glance to see if Lajaka was fleeing as well; she was. So were the men who had been behind her in the line. They had to get back to the skirmishing line, to the hill, and then to the wall. There, they might be able to regroup. But first, Luthene had to make it there alive, and she ran as fast as she could.

The shield wall was disintegrating under the force of the cavalry charge. In the back of his mind, Galin realized that the peasant revolt was being used by disaffected nobles as a chance to challenge the authority of the Crown, but that sort of insight would not help him now. Instead, he had to do what he could to rescue as many survivors as he could from this shambles. Cooper was at the left end of the skirmish line and as the charge struck, he had waved his men back towards Galin in the center, contracting the long line into a thick knot of men. Galin saw him among the men as they began to do what they could, loosing arrows at the horsemen and doing their best to avoid the panicking mass of Highlanders. “Cooper, to me.” The tall, rangy man groaned and ran over to Galin. “We’ve got to do something about this, Cooper,” Galin said urgently as he brought his crossbow up to his shoulder and drove a quarrel through a mail shirt and a leather jupon and into a man-at-arm’s chest and sent him tumbling out of the saddle.

“Aye, we get up the hill, over the wall, and shoot the bastards to every circle of the Abyss,” Cooper replied as though to a particularly slow child. There was a wall and it would stop the horsemen, might even slow the peasants down enough to make an escape. How the commander did not see that as the clear plan baffled Cooper but he hid his annoyance as he plucked another arrow from the cloth quiver at his side and sent the nearly three foot long ash shaft humming away from his bowstave to bury itself in a horse’s chest, toppling the beast and throwing the rider to the ground. “So let’s got us moving up, then, Galin, before the horsemen get tired of ignoring us and slash us to bloody ruin.”

What Cooper said made sense, there was no doubt of that, but it left no way to help the rest of the company. Luthene was out there, though he could not tell where in the confusion. He pushed the thought of her being ridden down by a horseman out of his mind and glanced up the hill again. The wall was inviting, the protection of the stones would allow his men to live, but it would condemn many more of the rest of the company to death at the hands of the horsemen and the peasants as they closed in. People from the leftmost part of the shield wall were already streaming up the hill, behind the skirmishers, and Galin suddenly smiled when he saw the horsemen breaking off from the rear of the column to hunt these survivors instead. “Cooper, form ‘em into three lines, now. And yes, you’ve been promoted. If I end up with an arrow in my back, I’ll hold you responsible now, see? Now three lines, and fast.”

Cooper was stunned to silence by the change in Galin and was too surprised to argue with his orders. “Three lines, three lines!” The men moved quickly, three close packed ranks forming at the bottom of the hill’s slope. The men looked at Cooper in confusion but Galin stepped out ahead of them. “Each line,” he shouted, looses a volley into the horsemen and retreats thirty yards, ten second intervals. Grind them up. This will give the rest of the company some relief, maybe even save some of the bastards that owe you money from dice.” He attached the level to the cord of his crossbow and hauled it back, then seated a bolt in the shallow channel. “First rank, loose!”

The arrows sped away from the strings of the first rank and the men scampered up the hill, between the ranks of their comrades, and, to Galin’s surprise, formed another line as they had been instructed. He did not have time to consider the situation, only to direct the rest of the skirmisher. “Second rank, loose!” He brought his crossbow up to his shoulder but by the time he had picked a target, the second volley had already slammed home, striking horses and men with the impact of a butcher’s axe. Horse went down in a flail of hooves, tripping up the riders that followed behind and throwing the charge into confusion. More men from the wall were picking their way up the hill in small groups, spears held warily against the horsemen, trying to make it to safety before the mass of peasants crossed the rest of the field. Some, he noticed, were starting to form another wall behind the skirmishers, sheltering beneath the protection of their bows. He looked back to the horsemen and saw them moving around the corpses of the first ranks and starting to attack up the hill again. “Steady lads, half aim left, the other right. Skewer the bastards. Loose!” The third rank sent their arrows into the two groups of cavalry as they tried to reform, thickening and widening the barrier of death between them and the remnants of the company.

Galin raced up the hill with the third rank, skidding to a half behind the rest of the skirmishers who began their pattern again. Loose, retreat, reform, loose, retreat, reform, sending a steady stream of steel-tipped arrows whipping into the confused mass of cavalry. Galin looked over at Cooper, anchoring the first rank, and shook his head. What ever had possessed him to promote the man, a man he would have gladly skilled just minutes before. Battle was a strange thing, he decided, and finally found a target and loosed his bolt. He could not tell if it struck because he was already retreating up the hill again. As he ran, he saw that the shield wall had formed again, a shrunken wall made in a circle to protect the wounded, but a wall that could hold off the cavalry. “Skirmishers, into the center. Run!” The three ranks melted back up the hill as the cavalry was closing in, sprinting for safety between the shields of their comrades. Before the cavalry could reach them, the shields of the wall were realigned and spears thrust out in defiance. They were safe. Galin’s breath was coming in short, hacking gasps in the cold air but he began to laugh. He was alive. “Now lads, do your business. Don’t need me telling you how to kill over paid horse soldiers, do you?” The skirmishers chuckled and bent their bows, shooting over the heads of the crouching men in the shield wall as the formation slowly but certainly moved up the hill, inching toward safety. "Cooper, keep them busy," Galin said and left them to their business, picking his way up the hill and toward the wounded being dragged by their comrades but Luthene was not among them. That could be either good news, he thought, or bad news.

Mathuin, distinctive among the other skirmishers with his recurve bow, tapped him on the shoulder. “Over there, both of them.” Galin saw where Mathuin was pointing and felt a wave of relief when he saw the two of them crouched behind their shields, still together and still able to fight. He touched the shield amulet around his neck and said a prayer of thanks to the Maker. They were alive. Now, Galin thought, they had to keep them that way.

Luthene could hear a horse somewhere behind her, but she didn’t dare turn her head to look. She could drop her shield, as some men had done, but she still wouldn’t be able to outrun a horse. Instead, she darted to the right a bit, and then kept on running. She saw the arrow coming in enough time to step out of its path, and she didn’t hear a horse behind her anymore.

The skirmishers were holding at the hill, and those retreating from the wall were forming a line behind them. Arrow fire was making it more difficult for the cavalry to pursue, and fallen men and horses were obstacles. Some of the wounded were being carried or dragged by anyone brave enough, and the line of shields became a circle at the top of the hill, injured men in its centre. Luthene joined the circle, next to Lajaka— who was also unhurt, thankfully— and joined the ranks of shields. Skirmishers entered the circle and continued to provide cover until the last man joined them: Cedric, who had thrown down his shield to carry a wounded man to safety, while another was limping and leaning on Cedric for support. Luthene left the wall, and handed Cedric her own shield, which he accepted with a nod. The man who had been leaning on him, Sigurd, now leaned on Luthene.

“Anyone without a shield carries the wounded!” Cedric bellowed. “Over the wall!”

There were more men lying in the centre of the circle than men free to carry them, Luthene knew. “Leave the dead,” she said when some looked to her for some sort of direction. “We can come back for them,” she added, and hoped it was true. She paired men off as best she could, and decided Sigurd would have to walk back unassisted, as there wasn’t anyone to spare. “Leave him, he’s dead,” Luthene said when one of the men prepared to pick up another man who had been run through with a sword. He wasn’t dead, however; his chest still rose, and perhaps he’d continue to breathe for another hour, but she knew death would take him and there was nothing she or anyone could do about it.

The circle of shields and spears moved, slowly, skirmishers firing off arrows into any cavalry who got too close, and they had mostly withdrawn by the time the Company was behind the wall, to relative safety. Cavalry fell back to the start of the initial rout, collecting their own wounded. Every so often, Luthene saw one drives the point of his sword into one of the Company, a wounded man who hadn’t been carried to safety. She wasn’t the only one to see it, either. Unable to watch, she started doing what she could for the wounded, mostly makeshift bandages and tourniquets.

When all the cavalry had fallen back out of sight, Cedric again got the men’s attention. “Still the peasants to deal with!” he said, trying to capitalize on their anger and resume the fighting. He didn’t get the reactions he wanted, and men grumbled as they, slowly, formed sloppy lines. Other men seemed ready to throw down their shields and quit altogether.

Luthene walked over to Cedric. “I need to get the wounded back to camp.” She didn’t shout, but she spoke loud enough for men to hear her, and some were quick to offer assistance. “There are some I might be able to save, but only if we leave now.” She paused, then added, “And if we can, our dead deserve a better resting place than this.”

“Peasants?”

Galin growled and turned to Cooper as the men shuffled into line, his hand dropping to the hilt of his sword. He did not have time to discuss his idea with Luthene, to see if he was being rash. All he knew was that this man was about to get the rest of the company slaughtered and he wanted no part of it. He had pulled the men he was able to out of the charnel house of the hill and now, with a wall to protect them and a clear line of retreat, Cedric wanted to go in again. “What is that damned bastard saying about peasants? You think we have a fucking chance in hell of going back down that slope? Might as well slit our throats here and now.”

Cooper was surprised by the sudden trust his erstwhile commander was showing in him but his time in the company and other armies besides had taught him to hide his emotions with a blank mask of dullness and good humor. He looked at Galin’s face and saw the creeping red flush of rage and finally got a fair measure of the man. He was not an officer, not a leader by rights, but he was a fighter and he had a very particular sense of what was right and wrong, and sending men back over that wall to get cut down in droves for Cedric’s pride was wrong. Cooper found himself warming to the man and pulled him aside, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Now you see, Galin, there’s something you don’t see, being a man from the wall. You lads, you hack and shove til they’re dead or you are. My lads, we see the bigger picture and we’re exposed, so our officers, they are a damned sight more important. And I ain’t been alive this long without realizing something about ‘em, see.

“There's two kinds of officers, sir: killing officers and murdering officers. Killing officers are poor ol' buggers that kill you by mistake. Murdering officers are mad, bad ol' buggers who get you killed on purpose. For a reason, for a country, for a religion, maybe even for a flag, but sure as the nose on my face, they get you good and dead. You, sir, will make a fine killing officer but Cedric here, he’s a murdering officer and that’s the truth.”

Galin smiled at the backhanded compliment, still unsure if he made the right decision promoting Cooper to… whatever it was he had, considering there was no formal structure beyond the troop commanders. That would be something to address if they all made it out of this alive, he thought, but it was not the most pressing concern. “Killing officer, eh? Could be worse, you finally fucking admitted I am in charge here. Now get the lads, tell them to muster near the trees. If this goes the way I expect, we’re legging it out of here.”

Cooper left, whispering orders to the skirmishers who looked at him askance and then began to drift toward the wooded verge, forming up there in three ranks again. Galin, his mind made up, strode toward Cedric at the center of his wall. Before he got there, he slowed down to speak with Luthene, whispering urgently that she should take whoever could walk and get to the skirmishers. “Things are about to get worse, much worse.” Leaving her with a regretful half-smile, Galin walked around to the head of the shield wall and stopped dead in front of Cedric and spat on the ground in front of him. “You stupid, arrogant cunt.” Cedric shook his head, unable to believe what he was hearing.

“Say it again, boy.”

Galin just smiled and stood his ground. “You stupid, arrogant, DEAF cunt, then.” Galin spat again. “You just got at least a hundred men killed by being an arrogant cunt and now you want to go and throw the rest of the men away against a superior force when we’re on bad ground. I didn’t come here to die for your pride. My oath was to Domnall, not to you, and I’m bloody well done. Those that want, we leave in five minutes. The rest, may the Maker have mercy on you in the slaughter.” Before Cedric could draw his sword, Galin kicked hard against the boss of his shield, sending the man staggering back. Not bothering to worry about a reprisal, Galin jogged back to the skirmishers and nodded to Cooper. “Tell the lads to keep the bows ready and all, in case the bastard wants to grind us up. But let anyone of them that wants, they can come along. We’re taking the long way back. Looks to me if they could hide a troop of horse in a gully, they can ambush the path we all took. So we strike north, then east, then south once we hit the main road again. Are the lads ready?”

“All ready, packs on, cords taut, sir. And let me say, they were surprised, but they’re with you, sir. No sense fighting if we ain’t alive to get paid for it, yeah?” Galin laughed and shook his head.

“No, there isn’t.”

Men from Galin’s old troop, men who knew him from the raid months before and from his service in the War, trickled in ones and twos out of Cedric’s line and the officers chivvied the rest of the men into ranks again, trying to stem the tide. He smiled, recognizing most of them, and as Cedric’s horns sounded the advance, at least a fifty men had joined the shrunken skirmishing troop, along with the wounded. “Let’s move, before the cavalry notices we aren’t keen on suicide either.” Galin found his way over to Luthene and hugged her briefly. “Like I said, much worse. But hey, we’re alive, right?”

Cedric didn’t give the order to collect the wounded and head back to camp, as Luthene had hoped. As Luthene walked away to tend to more injuries as best she could with what she had, Cedric tried to stir up more enthusiasm for an attack. The skirmishers were moving, which surprised her at first, but she saw they were moving closer to the trees. Galin met her, and told her to get as many as could walk to his unit, and that things were going to get worse. She nodded, but could not return his smile.

There was no need for Galin to repeat himself. Cedric had heard him. So did plenty of other men, but even more were listening the second time. Galin did not take back his words, which may have surprised Cedric somewhat, but not Luthene. Galin had made up his mind before he said anything, and this was the ‘worse’ he had warned her about. In the few minutes Luthene had, she directed some of the injured men to the skirmishing unit: a broken arm, cuts of various depths, one man’s hand had been crushed when a horse stepped on it, nothing life-threatening.

Lajaka was tying a tourniquet around a man’s leg when Luthene stopped her, directed her to the trees with the others, and looked first at the man, then at his injury. His name was Cormac, and he was a bit older than most of the others. The gash in his leg was deep, and bleeding. “This needs to be washed and stitched as soon as possible,” she explained quietly. “This tourniquet will stop the worst of the bleeding, and it’s all I can do now to try and save your life. The problem is that if you leave the tourniquet on for too long, you risk losing your whole leg. Even if you get it stitched up in time, the longer it’s left open the more likely it is that it will fester, and you’ll lose your leg anyway, if not your life.” Cormac nodded. “It’s a basic knot. If that’s your choice.”

There were so many Luthene had to leave behind, Cormac among them. If Cedric would only stop this foolishness, she might save him, and others. A part of her considered staying behind. Her oath, like Galin’s, was to Domnall, but would these men accept that sort of hair-splitting from someone like her? And even then, she still had a duty to the wounded to consider. But, as Galin hugged her, Luthene remembered she had a duty to him, too. She kissed him. “So long as we remain alive, I suppose it’s not so bad.”

They went into the woods first, skirmishers guarding the rest from all directions in case of another ambush. Cavalry weren’t likely to go into a wooded area, but everyone felt better with the extra caution. They made camp as the sun was setting, and a watch was coordinated. Once she finally had a free moment, and had a bit of privacy, Luthene sought Galin out, fell into his arms, and wept.

The next morning, and every morning thereafter, the group found their numbers a bit smaller. An injured man caught fever and died. Others decided they were better off trying to make a go of it alone. When they finally reached Adeluna, they were down to about a hundred or so.

There were no guards at the hall entrance when the group arrived. Something was wrong, Luthene knew. Things were about to get much, much worse. She looked up at Galin, and gripped his hand, hard. “You need to take charge of things, now, before the men see how bad it is inside. It will be chaos otherwise,” she said, her voice low enough that only he could hear her, trying to keep her words calm. “You led us out of that battle, and you need to lead now lest there be more fighting.”

When they camped the first night in a field a few miles from the battleground, Galin moved among the campfires, ordering men to different sections of the camp. Cooper, standing the first watch, was confused as Galin broke up men who had marched and eaten from the same fire for years and split them among the men from the heavy troops that had joined them on their march. There were more skirmishers than heavy troops but soon every cooking fire was mixed between them. Cooper, willing to play on the surprising thaw in his relationship with Galin while it lasted, headed over to the commander’s fire while Luthene was busy with the wounded. “So what in the nine hells is this hare-brained scheme, Galin?”

Galin looked up from the thick slab of meat he was frying on a skillet made from the breastplate of a dead cavalryman. “Have a seat Cooper, and I won’t even report you for not staying on post for the watch.” The towering skirmisher smirked and sat on a log across from Galin.

“I hope to the Maker your woman can cook because that’s not exactly the finest piece of salt pork I’ve seen this side of the Valley. Southern women, sir, they know their cooking. Wise choice if your Alyson’s anything like my Maria. She can turn an old boot into a meal fit for a king.”

Galin let out a braying laugh, throwing his head back. “Maker’s bollocks, Alyson can burn soup, man, let alone cook properly. If I was expecting her to keep the kitchen, I would have starved to death by now, and been happy to, rather than eat it.” He was not lying, though Luthene had other admirable qualities. He would have to see if Maria would be able to teach Luthene something other than burnt toast and even more burnt soup. “But if you’re too good to eat it,” he said, before tossing a small handful of chopped onions into the concave breastplate-turned-pan, “I’ll be glad to eat it myself. And for the record, it ain’t salt pork, it’s fresh horse. Cut it off one of the ones that died by the wall while Cedric was busy having his wee shouting match with the lads. Fresh and delicious, nothing like it.” The onions sizzled in the fat and Galin poked them around while he considered the man’s question. “And as for the reorganization, we ain’t big enough to be skirmishers and line, so I figured, we integrate the messes and then we fight together instead of separate. Separate is what got them killed with Cedric, so, might as well, right?”

Cooper leaned out and cut a chunk off the steak with his fighting knife and dropped it onto his small wooden plate, then he scraped some onions onto it as well. “You may not beat my Maria cooking, but that’s not the worst idea I’ve heard all day. Once we get back to camp, we’ll see about some sort of proper organization, I think.” He tore off a piece of the meat and chewed it, nodding. “Ain’t burned soup, that’s for sure.”

Galin chuckled, cut off some for himself, then nodded. “Aye, sure ain’t, but you’ve got a watch to be on, Cooper, unless you plan on my beating you black and blue again?” The big man grinned and finished his food, cleaning his plate in spite of his comments, and left to handle the watch. When Luthene returned, he offered her some of the horse and talked a bit about his integration of the company and Cooper’s new role, anything to take her mind off the fight. She seemed to respond and he let her hold him when the tears came, shielding her from the camp while the stresses of the day worked themselves through her. When she finally rested, he pulled a blanket over her and walked the perimeter, talking to the men on watch until he finally rested himself, snatching a few hours’ sleep before dawn.

The days passed easily and by the middle of the week, the men were marching well with their new comrades, skirmishers and spearmen mingling, and Galin was able to relax. Cooper kept the men in line, sorting out the minor matters that Galin did not want to concern himself with, and it was an arrangement that suited Galin well. It took some of the sting out of command and it kept Cooper too busy to start getting foul-tempered again. And every day as they got closer to the camp, the men’s spirit’s rose, looking forward to reuniting with wives and sweethearts. On the day the camp would come into view, Galin and Cooper lead the scouting party ahead of the column, their truce continuing, much to the surprise of the men around them. So when they returned at a run from the camp, their faces grim, the men were immediately wary, thinking something had gone wrong and their true was ended.

“Cooper, form into sections. I’m taking my section with me to the camp. The rest, remain a hundred yards out in skirmish order until you hear three blasts on the horn. Any man inside the walls before then and I will kill him myself.” Cooper nodded, his face set and cold, and Galin whistled for his section. “Luthene, you, Lugh, and Lajaka, you’re with me into the center of the camp. You’ll understand when we get there. The rest, guard on the north gate, no one through until the horn. Quickly now.” He winced at Luthene’s words, knowing she was right and hating it at the same time. “I don’t know if I can do anything but, Maker damn me. This is my bloody circus now.” Galin headed off at a trot, his crossbow cocked and a bolt ready to loose. As they crested the small hill that hid the camp from view, the reason for his orders became easily clear. Smoke hung low and heavy over the palisade and the timbers of the great hall’s roof were visibly charred even at this distance. “Looks like Cedric made it out,” Galin spat as Luthene ran alongside him. “Bastard.”

Inside the palisade, the destruction was more apparent. Cedric must have been able to pull some of his men out of the butchery that would surely have befallen them and made it back to the camp days before. The embers in the great hall were still warm and some of the thatch still smoked in the ruins of huts. Some of the women peeked out at the men, recognizing some but still shrinking away. The Maker only knew what Cedric had done to them. Galin snarled and kicked a charred ember, sending it skittering across the ground in a flurry of sparks. “That bastard,” he growled, looking for Luthene. “Find the women you know, gather them, and have them in the parade ground. I’ll bring the men in by sections, they’ll see if their women are here, then they are on the palisade. Once that’s finished, we are meeting at the hall, what’s left of it, to see what in the nine hells happened.”

Leaving Luthene to organize things inside with the section, he jogged out to Cooper who was standing with his section just beyond the gate. The men could see the destruction now and he could hear the mutterings of discontent. “By sections, through the gate, five minute intervals. And be steady lads. We’ll sort Cedric later. Now is about getting ourselves settled, seeing what’s left, and rebuilding. Second section, through the gates.” As the men trudged warily toward the gate, Galin blew on the horn, three blasts, and the men guarding it stepped aside. “Cooper, go with second section,” he called, releasing the man from his duty to see if Maria had survived. It was the least he could do, with his woman safe among them already. Over the course of an hour, the men filed into the ruined camp, looking at their huts, searching for their families among the living and, when they had no luck, among the dead that were piled haphazardly near the great hall’s south wall.

When Galin returned inside, the worst of the reunions had passed and he headed for the hall. Cooper, relief evident on his face. “She’s alright sir,” he said simply and slumped like a winded hound. “And she says it was Cedric what did that. Took all Domnall’s silver, the company’s see, and whatever else could be laid a hand on, then headed for the port. And it weren’t just money they took sir. Some of the women, see, they was…” Galin cut him off with a cold glance.

“We both know what happens when a fortress falls, Cooper. And we’ll settle the score with the bastard. Now, get everyone together at the hall. Women, children, everyone. I want a full account of the last days, and then we decide how to proceed.” As the people gathered, called by Cooper and the other section leaders, Galin set up a crude table, laying one of the doors of the great hall that had been torn off its hinges across a pair of empty barrels that once contained the company’s pay for a month, and motioned for Luthene to sit on another barrel at his side with a quill and parchment to record the goings on.

“Men… women… friends. What has happened here is a disgrace, a disaster, and treachery of the highest order. I must know the truth of these last days. Step up and tell us, so a proper account can be made and then the guilty punished.” Sitting down next to Luthene on a fallen piece of masonry, he listened as the women of the camp detailed the attack, the sack, and the escape by Cedric’s forces, willing his face to be impassive while his fingers gripped the hilt of his sword until his knuckles were white and his fingers gouged bloody crescents into his palm. If he ever saw Cedric again, he swore that his soul would scream for what he did that day. And an oath like that, Galin knew as he touched the amulet around his neck, was the sort the Maker loved, and he knew that sooner rather than later, he would have his chance to do just that.

Under ordinary circumstances, the smell of smoke wasn’t anything to worry about. This time of year, there were plenty of fires going to keep the hall warm, or to cook food. Instead, Luthene found huts still smouldering. Galin said that Cedric must have made it back, but he didn’t have to; she knew. The evidence was everywhere.

Galin might not like the idea of command, but he was up to the task. He had already integrated the wall fighters with his skirmishing unit; while it almost certainly wasn’t his motive, Luthene knew that Galin would likely have better command over the men this way. The new divisions also helped now, allowing him to easily divide the men and only take a few into the hall at a time. That would, she hoped, keep the chaos to a minimum. Her task was to gather the women. “Alright,” she said, then reached for his hand and held on for a moment. There would be men and women both who would not be reunited, Luthene knew, and she was immensely grateful to still have Galin.

Lajaka had entered the hall, and Luthene pulled her aside. “Take these,” she said, handing the other women her sword and knife. She’d lost her shield, having given it to Cedric, and now was likely never getting it back. Luthene began to undo the fastenings on her cuirass, and handed this to Lajaka as well, along with her helm. “You’re going to help me gather the women in the parade ground, but under the circumstances, I think it would be best we didn’t go to them dressed for battle. I’ll start at the far end, where the skirmishers live.” Lajaka nodded as Luthene let down her hair. “Ask them what happened, if you can.” Luthene could certainly guess some of it. While Lajaka was typically quite hard, she had considerably more sensitivity now.

Luthene found Maria first, broom in hand. This section of the hall, she noted, was considerably cleaner than the ones she walked through to get there. Maria set the broom aside and the women embraced. “Owen?” she asked.

“He’s fine. Are you…?”

“I snuck out,” Maria replied. “Cedric and the others, they were for the money first, then the ale. Got as many out as I could.”

“Oh thank goodness,” Luthene said. For her friend’s sake, she was relieved.

Cooper appeared then, and Maria ran to him. They held each other in silence, and Luthene let them be.

Not all the men had a happy reunion. One man, Donchad, didn’t find his wife Gisella among the women on the parade ground. She hadn’t made it out with Maria, and fought back hard when the attacks started. Later, Luthene learned that she’d been raped, killed, and then her body mutilated. Likely fewer fought back after that.

For most of the women, there was no man for them to welcome home. Luthene spotted Cormac’s wife, a woman whose name she didn’t even know, standing with their son, a lad of about ten. She had asked Luthene about her husband, and all Luthene could do was shake her head.

After all the men had been allowed the chance to see their loved ones— or learn or their deaths— Galin called everyone into the hall and a table was set up. Even with men and family both assembled, the group seemed so much smaller, compared to how many there used to be. Galin indicated that Luthene should sit on a barrel, and she was given quill and parchment and told to write. Maria did most of the talking, having been the one to take charge during and after the attack. Her father had been a soldier, and then her husband had fought in the rebellion, on the old king’s side; she knew what was going to happen, and got out most of the children and a good number of the women, too. Almost all the skirmisher’s families were safe, save one, who had come home from the market in the middle of it. Maria said it had been about thirty men. She was interrupted at this point: it had been precisely thirty-two men, led by Cedric. Luthene wrote this down, and tried not to think about how this woman could be so certain, and so precise.

Different people spoke up, to say that their huts had been burned down, or items of value taken. Luthene kept her money with Galin’s, away from the hall, but her books had been burned and jars of medicine smashed. Most of it had been cleaned away, Maria having organized such efforts to keep the women busy. When this discussion of damage died down, Luthene took a fresh sheet of parchment.

“Does anyone know if Domnall kept any money somewhere else?” It was too much to hope for that he might have something secure in an Egjoran bank, but if there was anything left that Cedric might not have taken, they would need it.

“My Cormac did the ledgers for him,” his widow said. “They were hidden, but I know where they are.” She left to get the books.

“Do you think those ‘peasants’ might have left anyone alive?” Luthene whispered to Galin. “For ransom? Otherwise, we need to make sure the widows get something out of whatever we can pool together, and help them get back to their families. Maybe some can stay on, at least for a while, and help with the chores. Hopefully enough men will be generous. Regardless, we need work before there can be revenge, if we’re to stay together.”

Cormac’s widow returned, and handed Luthene a leather-bound book. She flipped it open, found the most recent entries, and read. There was something, she saw with relief, kept with a goldsmith in the city. So long as he survived the plague and Cedric wasn’t aware of it, there would be some money left. Luthene passed the ledger to Galin and wordlessly pointed to the entry. Hopefully he can read numbers well enough.

"No survivors, not likely,” Galin whispered back to Luthene as Maria spoke. In a campaign like that, the peasants would have taken out all their frustrations with the monarchy on the agents of the queen that they captured, if they even accepted any surrenders. Galin hoped, for the sake of the men, that there had been no quarter given. At least then they were assured of a swift death in battle and not the slow, agonizing death the rebels would inflict on the captives as a warning to any other men who dared to stand against them. It was strange, he realized, to wish his comrades dead, but it was better than the alternative. He hated not having been there but throwing away men’s lives for Cedric’s pride was a waste of good men. At least they had survived. It was enough.

Paying the men and providing for the widows would be a problem, he realized, when Domnall’s ledgers were mentioned. Cormac’s widow fetched them and as Luthene read through them, Galin was doing figures in his head. Daily, each man was owed a crescent, officers were owed six, and from that, their food and drink were deducted. With three surviving officers and one hundred six men, it would take one hundred twenty-four crescents a day to pay and feed the men, nearly nine hundred a week. Galin wondered how much had already been paid by the Crown and how much of that survived. He knew that if he had to fund it out of his own coffers, it would not be long before the men had to seek other employment if the Crown did not pay for the services of the diminished force. His own purse was kept in the Winking Mermaid, acting as a bank for the men at dice, reaping rewards from the loans made against its balance. It would maybe keep them a month, he thought, struggling with the figures and all the incidentals and issues with the Crown. If the agreement held and their food and drink was provided by Adeluna, they would last far longer, but with a cow for butchering running nearly 80 crescents and decent ale at a crescent a gallon, it would be an austere time if Galin had to foot the bill himself. He knew that there would need to be a meeting with the Crown’s representatives soon and he dreaded it, but the situation had changed and so would their relationship with Adeluna. But his first concern was survival.

Galin saw the figures in a neat, tidy hand in the columns of the ledger and smiled. He was not sure what all the writing was, but the final line was enough coin to keep them fed for a while. He would have to figure out where it was kept and if Cedric had stolen it, however. “Is it… here or elsewhere?” When Luthene explained in a hushed tone that the money was kept with a goldsmith in the city, Galin finally relaxed. There was hope of surviving this, he thought, and that was a good start.

“Alright, thank you for your words,” Galin said, raising his hands to quiet the assembly. “Right now, we need to prepare for the night and tomorrow morning. Anything beyond that is foolishness. Second and eighth sections, you are to use the hall here as a pyre for the dead. There is oil enough in the stores to make it a proper blaze. Everyone else, we are moving into the side of the camp where the armory is. It’ll be a barracks for anyone that needs it, with the state of the huts. Maria was able to save some of the livestock, thank the Maker, so we’ll be slaughtering a bullock tonight and we’ll eat like kings and drink like ‘em too. We’ve survived enough to warrant a celebration. Any woman who has lost her husband or sweetheart, you are welcome to stay so long as you work. There’s buildings to repair, clothing to mend, and stores to prepare. Anyone who decides not to work, I will give you enough coin to see you through for a few days and get you settled back in the City. Please, find Luthene and speak to her if that’s your choice, but I think I speak for the rest of us when I say, no matter what, you’re family here.”

A few of the men were smiling at his words as Galin dismissed them and collapsed heavily onto the masonry. “Maker’s bollocks, this is a shambles.” He sighed and looked at Luthene. “Best I could do, I figure. We’ll worry about the funds in the morning. Let’s get folks’ minds off this,” he said, gesturing at the ruined camp, “and then decide how to fix this shite. Now, have we still got a place to lay down? I haven’t slept proper in the last week and I could use a cot, a few cups of wine, and to sleep until someone’s got the food finished. And from the look of you, you could too.”

There was money enough to take care of the widows and keep everyone fed for a little while at least, Luthene was relieved to see. Galin had tabled discussion of the future until the next morning, and ordered a feast prepared. The only important detail to sort out now was a lodging. “Our hut is gone, I’m afraid. Same with everyone in your unit, and the new physician’s hut as well.” She didn’t feel the need to say that everything in it was lost as well. “Cedric’s old unit, though, those huts are mostly still up. A few of the families have moved in there for now, and Maria as well. I imagine there’s a space for us.”

Sure enough, there was. The hut was nearly identical to their old one, minus their things and the spare blanket Galin had once used, but no longer needed. Luthene found a skin of wine and two cups, and poured a generous amount for both of them. Her hands were shaking as she brought her cup to her lips, and she drained it. “How could he?” she said when she finally felt able to speak. “As if the rout wasn’t bad enough, he had to… and the women… how!” But she knew that already. She had helped take a lord’s manor, and that mission was a success in part because they had played on men’s fears regarding the treatment of their women. Sometimes those fears were played out, but Luthene never dreamed that she would see such a thing happen to these women, or that such acts would be committed by men she had fought beside.

For an hour or so, while Galin slept, Luthene lay awake in his arms. She had stopped shaking, but her mind was restless. Finally, she got up, kissed his cheek and, in case he had woken, whispered, “I have some thing to take care of before the meal. You rest.” Then she went to find Maria and explained what she needed.

“Got a special night planned, then?” Maria asked. Luthene was taken by surprise, and Maria laughed. “Do you think you’re the only one? I suppose it’s different for you, being that you go out when the men do and you’re never away from Galin for days on end. Hope you’re not expecting to wash alone, because there are a few women there already and I’m off to do the same.”

The water was only lukewarm, but Luthene felt far better after she’d washed two weeks’ worth of dirt and sweat and blood off her. Maria found her a clean dress to wear. “You’re too thin!” she lamented. “I suppose this will have to do, anything else will be too loose on you.” The dress had to be tied in the back, which was ideal for Luthene’s relatively small frame compared to many other women, but Maria found the colours— grey and white— to be rather drab.

“I like it,” Luthene said with a smile. “And I appreciate you finding it for me.”

“Well, let me do something with your hair, then.”

In spite of everything, Maria managed to stay in good spirit, and it was infectious. It was hard to believe that, just a few hours ago, some of these women had described the atrocities committed against them by Cedric and his men. The meal was being prepared, drinks were plentiful, and even Luthene forgot to be nervous.

When Galin saw her, he was stunned again. Luthene laughed, and kissed him. “The meal’s ready,” she said, and took his arm when he recovered enough to offer it. The feast was the celebration Galin had asked for, and in spite of their reduced numbers and the horrors everyone had recently faced, spirits were high. Luthene even laughed at Galin’s teasing, and tried not to seem nervous. Men toasted the fallen first, then gave high praise to the women for preparing the feast, and Luthene singled out Maria in particular for everything she had done.

When it was over, Luthene and Galin returned to their hut. Her heart was pounding as she took his hand and lead him to the bed, where she sat down, and then kissed him. “I feel like that’s the first time I’ve felt able to kiss you properly since this mess began,” she said when she finally pulled away. “It didn’t really seem right before, especially when we got back here and learned about… what had happened. So many people having lost someone, I didn’t want to make them feel worse by displaying how grateful I am that I didn’t lose you, that I am still alive, and we’re still able to be together.” While she’d had plenty of time to prepare, Luthene still found it so difficult to express herself now. “And I need you to know just how glad I am.”

When words failed her again, Luthene leaned forward and kissed him again. ”I love you,” she said finally. “Is… is that enough?”