Lockley gave a thin smile. ‘The north has become a major drain on the resources of Eldacre. It seems to me there are two choices. Either we bring up an army, with cannon, and utterly destroy the enemy, or we find a way to resolve the situation without such . . . expense. I would prefer the latter.’
‘As would we all,’ said Call. ‘My view has always been that having my men patrol the area would take away the need for the deployment of large forces, and also allow greater effectiveness for the troops under your command. They could then be used where most valuable, scouring the wildlands for brigands and thieves.’
Lockley eased himself back into the deep leather chair, pushing out his booted feet towards the fire. ‘Which would, of course, involve armed Rigante?’
‘Of course. How else would they fight outlaws?’
‘Indeed so,’ said Lockley. ‘This idea was employed by one of my predecessors and worked to great advantage. Attacks were few, the tax revenues got through and the community was content.’
‘He was a man of great foresight and courage,’ said Call. ‘It was a sad loss when he died.’
‘It is my belief that this plan of yours will work wonderfully,’ said Lockley. ‘I would imagine that merely by hearing word of it the outlaws will melt away into the mountains, never to be seen again. I would further imagine that there will never be another attack on the tax convoys.’
‘That is certainly to be hoped,’ agreed Call, ‘though such an immediate response would be surprising.’
‘Of course. I am sure it will take some time for word to reach all the outlaws. But I am sure it will happen soon enough now we are in agreement.’
‘Will you stay for supper, Colonel Lockley?’
‘No, thank you. My wife is coming up to Black Mountain to join me and I would like to be there to greet her. Perhaps another time?’
‘You will always be welcome.’
‘The Moidart has asked me to reiterate his invitation for you to travel to Eldacre. He is most interested in discussing your thoughts on the administration of the area.’
‘That is exceedingly kind of him,’ said Call. ‘It would be an honour to meet the lord. Sadly my health has not been good in recent months and I fear such a journey could prove hazardous. However, I shall write to him with my thanks.’
Colonel Lockley proved almost as good a prophet as Call Jace himself. Outlaw raids ceased within the month, and less than a year later the complement of soldiers had once more been reduced to two hundred.
Lockley had survived his post for another seven years, before succumbing to a disease which stripped his body of flesh and left him dying in agony. Call Jace had attended the funeral. Lockley had been a career soldier, leaving little in the way of a legacy for his wife and two sons. Call Jace made them a gift of one hundred pounds in gold, in memory of ‘a fine and honest soldier’.
There had been two replacements since that time, and neither had tried to alter the agreement. Call Jace’s instincts and strategy had triumphed, and the Rigante had prospered.
But now, as he watched his son fighting for his life, Call Jace knew fear. His instincts had been wrong this time. He had thought Bael would defeat the boy easily, since the southern Rigante had no experience in sword skills. Call also knew that Bael would not try to kill him. He would seek to wound and scar him. In this way honour would be satisfied.
Not for a moment had Call considered the prospect of Bael’s being slain. His son was a fine swordsman. Yet the southerner fought like a veteran, his moves fast, his attacks ferocious. Both fighters had taken cuts, Bael to the upper arms, the boy to the left wrist and forearm. Kaelin was also cut on his right cheek, and blood had drenched his shirt.
The swordsmen were fighting within a circle of watching Rigante warriors. More than two hundred had assembled for the duel, and it had begun with great cheers for Bael. The fight had lasted more than ten minutes so far, and the crowd had become silent, engrossed with the skills on display.