Fell rubbed his bloodshot eyes. Food was running low. There had not been enough salt to preserve all the meat, and much of it was now bad. The only cattle left were breeding stock, and to kill these would cause great grief among the clan, and ensure future famine. It had been bad enough slaughtering all the others. Grown men had wept at the loss. All cattlemen understood the need of the winter cull, for there was not enough fodder gathered to feed all the animals through this hardest of seasons. But to lose all the hay meant the destruction of whole herds, the loss of prize bulls which were the result of generations of breeding.
The period of late midwinter was always a time of hardship, when the milk cows dried and the meat was all but gone. This year would be ten times worse, and it would be followed by a terrible war.
Fell drifted into a troubled sleep, only to be awoken by the sounds of men pushing themselves to their feet. Cold air touched him as the doors were pushed open and the forester struggled to his feet, dizzy and disoriented. Loran, Asmidir, Obrin, Tovi and Grame all remained behind, as did Ballistar. Fell decided to leave them to it and moved to the door, but Sigarni called him back. ‘I need some sleep,’ he said.
‘You can sleep later,’ she told him, then turned to the others. Fell walked to where they all sat and joined them. Sigarni stood. ‘Obrin has now appointed twenty-five group leaders,’ she said. ‘It is therefore time for our warriors to know the structure of our leadership. There will be two wings in the army. Grame will lead one, and Fell the other. Obrin will retain responsibility for training, and will also captain a third and smaller force; the role of this third force I will discuss with you later. Tovi, you will relinquish the role of Hunt Lord, passing it to me. From that moment you will remain in charge of all supplies, the gathering of food and its distribution; you will liaise with Loran. Later you will have a second role, and that we will discuss tomorrow.’
Fell glanced at the former baker, and saw that his face had grown pale. Tovi had worked as hard as any during and after the exodus from Loda lands. To lose his role as Hunt Lord was bitterly hard, and would be seen as a humiliation. No one spoke. All waited for Tovi’s reaction.
The man pushed himself to his feet and walked slowly from the building. As the door closed Fell spoke. ‘That was not right,’ he said. ‘It was cold cruelty and the man deserved more than that.’
‘Deserve?’ countered Sigarni. ‘Did his son deserve to die? Do the Loda deserve to be living in the mountains as beggars, their homes destroyed? Did I deserve… ?’ Abruptly Sigarni returned to her seat, and Fell could see her struggling to control her anger. ‘The decision is made,’ she said at last. ‘The left and right wings of the army will be ledby you and Grame. Obrin will select your groups tomorrow; discuss the dispositions with him. Once your wings are organized you will work with them, testing your officers, and if necessary promoting others.’
‘Does Asmidir have no role?’ asked Fell. ‘I understood he was once a general.’
‘He will advise me. Now the hour is late, and as you said, Fell, you are in need of sleep. We will meet here tomorrow night, and then I will tell you of Obrin’s force and what they must do.’
The men rose to their feet and walked from the room, leaving only Obrin with Sigarni.
Fell stepped into the moonlight, Grame beside him. The white-bearded smith clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Do not be so downhearted, general,’ he said. ‘If Tovi is honest he will admit to his relief. His heart is not in war.’
‘It would have been more kind had she spoken to him alone.’
The smith nodded. ‘She’s been through the fire, boy, and it does tend to burn away softness. And she’ll need to be harder yet, if the Loda are to survive.’