‘What of the townsfolk?’
‘The Redeemers will take over after the battle. They will question the citizens and deal with any deemed to have Covenant sympathies.’
‘By heaven, Velroy, this feels like a dirty business.’
‘Do it well and you will be given command of Person’s Lancers. Lord Winterbourne also offers a thousand pounds as a gesture of his continuing goodwill towards you and your family.’
‘That is most generous.’
‘Lord Winterbourne makes a very good friend, Macy. It is worth remembering.’
‘A man can never have enough friends,’ answered Macy. ‘Convey my thanks to the earl, and tell him he can rely upon me and my men. And now I must go. This cold is eating into my bones.’
Jakon ducked down. He heard the creak of leather as the general mounted. Then he saw the rider swing his horse back towards the camp. Jakon waited until the other officer also departed, then he rose from his hiding place.
Jakon Gallowglass did not have many friends. But two years ago, a ball lodged in his thigh, he had waited to be killed by Covenant scouts. He had been hunkered down on a stretch of open ground, two dead comrades alongside him. Dragging himself behind one of the bodies he had lain there quietly as shots rained in on him. He could hear some of them thunking into the corpse, and others kicking up dirt close by. Then he’d heard a shot from behind him. With a curse he rolled to his back, scrabbling for his pistol. There were no Covenanters there. It was a young, sandy-haired musketeer wearing the leaf green tunic of the Eldacre regiment. He was kneeling on the ground some fifty paces behind Jakon’s position. Shots peppered the ground around him, but he coolly loaded and fired. Then a horseman on a huge grey gelding came thundering across the open ground. A young rider, wearing a wide-brimmed grey hat and a long grey greatcoat, leapt to the ground alongside Jakon, hauling him upright and lifting him into the saddle. Vaulting up behind him the rider had kicked the gelding into a run. A shot screamed by them, ripping the hat from the rider’s head. The gelding took off and was soon out of range of the muskets. The rider drew up and helped Jakon to the ground. Other cavalrymen moved past them, galloping out towards the high ground and the Covenant snipers. The officer knelt beside Jakon, examining the wound to his thigh. ‘Broke no bones, and missed the major artery. You’re a lucky young fellow. I’ll put a tourniquet on it until we can get you to a surgeon.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
The man laughed. ‘Don’t thank me. Thank that idiot rifleman of mine. He’s too good a man to lose. If I hadn’t pulled you out he’d still be there in the line of fire. As it is I’ve lost a damn good hat,’ he said, pushing his hand through his long, golden hair.
‘You’re the Grey Ghost.’
‘One of these days I must find out where that name originated,’ said Gaise Macon. ‘Now what can we use as a tourniquet?’ The Grey Ghost had untied a white silk scarf from his neck, and, using Jakon’s pistol as a lever, had tightened it around the wounded thigh. ‘That should hold you, lad. I’ll leave you in the capable hands of young Jaekel here.’ Patting Jakon on the shoulder he had returned to his mount and ridden away towards the hills.
Jakon eased himself up into a sitting position. The rifleman sat beside him. ‘Thanks,’ said Jakon.
‘Don’t mention it,’ said Taybard Jaekel, and they sat in silence for a while. Jaekel had pulled a plug of smoked meat from his hip pouch. With a small knife he cut it in half and handed a section to Jakon. ‘Need to loosen that tourniquet,’ he said. ‘Leg’ll rot if you don’t.’
‘Did you hit any of them Covenanters?’ asked Jakon.
Two.’
‘You only fired twice.’
‘That’s why I only hit two.’
The leg was beginning to pain him, but Jakon still managed a smile. ‘I’m Jakon Gallowglass. I owe you one.’
‘If I see you near a tavern I’ll let you buy me a tankard of ale,’ said Jaekel.