‘I am beginning to warm to him,’ said the Moidart. ‘I often feel the same way myself. So where is the Wyrd now? We could use her help.’
‘She has returned north. She wants no more to do with wars and death. I fear I have disappointed her.’
‘Life is full of disappointment. Can I see the skull?’
‘No, Father. You would seek to make a pact with Cernunnos. It is your nature. Therefore I have hidden it.’
‘In that case, Gaise, you had better find a plan to defeat the enemy.’
For the next two days there was great activity on the outskirts of Eldacre. Gaise Macon had chosen the battleground, a low line of hills stretching for a half mile east and west of a level area of grassland. Huge stakes were cut, sharpened and driven into the earth on the slopes of the hills to deter cavalry charges. Pits were dug and camouflaged to hide cannon, and weary soldiers with spade and shovel prepared long trenches to conceal musketeers. Workers were also pressganged from the citizenry of Eldacre, though little pressure was needed. Most offered their services willingly.
Fearful of the coming battle and its outcome, hundreds of families packed their belongings into wagons and set off for the relative peace of the northlands.
Gaise worked tirelessly, overseeing the construction of fortified defences, and the placement of cannon. While riding along the line he caught sight of Mulgrave, working alongside Kaelin Ring. They and a group of Rigante were filling canvas sacks with earth, tying them and creating a low wall at the centre of the open ground between the hills.
He saw Mulgrave glance up at him. Then his old friend merely looked away, without acknowledgement. Saddened, Gaise swung his horse and rode carefully up the hill, negotiating the forest of stakes placed there.
General Beck was standing with the young Bendegit Law. They were estimating cannon range, and directing soldiers in the placement of small white stakes at various places along what would be the enemy’s line of advance.
Gaise dismounted. Twenty cannon were set here, some twelve feet apart. ‘When their cannon are drawn up we’ll be outranged,’ said Beck. These are eight pounders. Maybe two hundred and fifty yards at best. The knights have fifteen pounders. Big bastards. They can pour down shot from almost half a mile. They’ll range them on that hill,’ he added, pointing to the south.
‘The scouts report they have over a hundred cannon,’ said Gaise, ‘but I don’t know how many of those fifteen pounders they can bring up. I spiked sixteen of them in the west.’
‘Shame you couldn’t have captured them, sir,’ said Beck.
‘Damn, but I should have thought of that,’ said Gaise.
Beck looked embarrassed. ‘Forgive me, sir. I know it was a lightning raid, and you had no opportunity to do more than spike them. I spoke without thinking.’
‘It is all right, Beck,’ said Gaise. ‘I wish I could have taken them. They were fine pieces, beautifully wrought. But we barely had time to hammer the iron spikes home before the knights counter attacked.’ He paused. ‘You and your men are going to come under heavy fire,’ he said. ‘When it begins pull most of your men back from the slopes. When the cannons cease, and the attack starts, re-form.’
In the afternoon the Moidart paid a visit to the fortifications. Some of the soldiers cheered as he arrived on a splendid white mare. The Moidart ignored them and spent time talking with Beck.
Gaise, weary after two days of constant work and planning, rode back to where his own men were camped. Lanfer Gosten took his mount and Gaise made his way to his tent, where he lay down for a few hours’ sleep.
Towards dusk Lanfer woke him, offering him a copper cup of warm tisane. Gaise sipped it gratefully. ‘Have the scouts reported?’ he asked.
‘Yes, sir. The enemy is on the move. We should sight them tomorrow. Oh, and a group of Rigante captured some soldiers. They are questioning them now.’
‘When they have told what they know see they are put to death,’ said Gaise.
‘Yes, sir.’