‘Very good, Master Ring,’ said the Moidart, extending his hand. Kaelin Ring stared at it, then looked into the man’s pale eyes. The Moidart gave a wry smile. ‘Yes, I suppose that the sweetness of irony can only be pushed so far.’
Mulgrave was tired as he strolled across the bridge towards the little church. He had slept poorly these last few nights, his mind roiling with unresolved questions. Outlying scouts had been reporting troop movements, which made little sense during a ceasefire, and yesterday sixty wagons had arrived, removing all powder and supplies from the new depot constructed on the orders of Cordley Lowen. It seemed to Mulgrave a waste of time, money and effort to construct a depot and then almost immediately abandon it. Added to which it meant that the soldiers of the Eldacre Company now had only the ammunition and powder they were carrying. Should Luden Macks break the ceasefire the Eldacre men would be unable to fight for more than a day. Mulgrave had put these worries to Gaise Macon. ‘We will probably be ordered elsewhere within the next few days,’ the young general had said. ‘Obviously the high command have decided to move the lines.’
‘The high command, sir, is Lord Winterbourne. Do you feel comfortable knowing that our men now have no source of ammunition? Tomorrow they are removing the food supplies.’
‘No, I don’t feel comfortable, my friend. It is most galling to be left in a reactive situation. We can do nothing. We must await orders. However, we can ensure the scouts move further afield. I want to know of any further troop movements in the area.’
‘Why so, sir?’
‘The line is being drawn back. Save for us. We are now sitting out in the open, with no reinforcements to call upon. The nearest Royalist forces are now six miles east of us. I can make no sense of it. If Macks was to attack we could be surrounded and wiped out before any help arrived.’
‘If any help was ordered to arrive,’ said Mulgrave.
Tell the scouts they are to avoid being seen.’
Mulgrave had smiled. ‘That is the point of being a scout, sir, surely?’
‘I mean by our own allies as well as the troops of Luden Macks.’
The words had chilled Mulgrave.
Now, as he made his way to Ermal Standfast’s cottage, he found himself relaxing. The little priest’s company was always a joy. Yet when he arrived he saw a small wagon outside the door. As he approached it he found it was packed with items of Ermal’s furniture, and a great many boxes. There were bundles of books tied with string. Two men emerged from the house carrying an old leather chair. They nodded to Mulgrave as they passed.
The swordsman entered the cottage. The main room was almost empty now, and Ermal came into sight from the lower bedroom, carrying yet another bundle of books. He saw Mulgrave and gave a nervous smile. The two men returned. Ermal handed them the books, asking them to place them in the wagon. After they had done so he gave them each a silver chailling. The men touched their caps and walked out.
‘What is happening here?’ asked Mulgrave.
‘I am … er … leaving for the south, Mulgrave.’
‘This is a swift decision. Only yesterday you said you were looking forward to the spring.’
‘Yes, it is a little swift. But the decision is made.’
‘What is wrong, Ermal?’
‘Nothing. Nothing at all. I have a sister in Varingas. I… feel the need to put the fears of war far behind me.’
‘It seems to me that you are frightened, Ermal.’
The little man’s shoulders sagged. Mulgrave saw him glance nervously towards the ceiling. ‘Yes, I am frightened. Wars do that to me. I would like to live quietly in the capital. You remember telling me of your dreams of the white-haired old woman . . . who lived in the south by the sea? Yes, of course you do,’ he added swiftly. ‘She felt that death was hunting her. I have been having those same dreams, Mulgrave. The very same ones that you told me about. I am not a young man any more. I just want to live out my life, and study my books, and help people where I can with a few medicines and powders. I am not a warrior. I want no part in the violence that is all around me. I don’t want hungry carrion birds pecking at my eyes. You understand? They are here. You only have to look in the trees around us to see them waiting to feed. I wish you well, Mulgrave. Now I must go.’