Kaelin had seen Colonel Ranaud only once since that first meeting. The soldier had ridden to the farm five months ago at the onset of winter. He had arrived in the company of thirty soldiers. Kaelin had welcomed him with false warmth, inviting him into the house. Ranaud had seemed tense and on edge. ‘Have you been back to Rigante lands?’ he asked.
Kaelin had discussed with Call Jace what to say to the officer. ‘I have, sir.’
‘Did you note their armaments?’
‘They now have seven cannon, and every clansman has access to a musket.’ Ranaud relaxed and sat down by the fire, extending his hands towards the flames.
‘Seven, you say. Good. Where are they placed?’
‘Three are set in the two passes leading into the valley, three in the first, four in the second.’
‘Excellent, Master Ring.’
‘Let me fetch you some wine, colonel,’ said Kaelin, walking through to the kitchen. Call Jace had been right. Ranaud had showed no surprise at the news. He already knew the number of cannon, and their positions.
Kaelin handed the colonel a goblet of mulled wine. Ranaud sipped it. ‘I understand congratulations are in order. You are to be wed.’
‘Yes, sir. Sadly, though, I must wait another year.’
‘Really? Why is that?’
The advice of a Rigante wise woman,’ Kaelin told him. ‘Each day now passes like a month. I feel I will have a white beard before I Walk the Tree.’
Ranaud laughed. ‘Abstinence makes the heart grow fonder, as my mother used to say. Who is the lucky girl?’
‘Chara Jace.’
‘The chieftain’s daughter. My, but you have set your sights high, Master Ring. I understand she is quite pretty.’
‘Indeed she is. May I also offer my congratulations to you, colonel? The promotion is richly deserved.’
‘Linax was a good man in his way. But he did not know how to deal with rebels. Do you still hate Call Jace?’
‘My feelings for him have not changed at all,’ said Kaelin.
‘Good. Then let us talk about their defences.’
The colonel stayed for just under an hour. Kaelin answered all questions with honesty, and Ranaud was in a better mood when he left. For some while after his departure Kaelin sat alone. Ranaud obviously had other sources of information. Call Jace had lost several scouts, and believed them to have been taken to the keep and put under torture, their bodies disposed of in secret. It was a good theory. Yet there was another. What if there was a traitor among the Rigante? Call had scoffed at this. ‘There’s not a man -or woman – here who would betray me,’ he said.
After the murder of Killon Ustal the Rigante withdrew to their heartlands. Kaelin had not seen Chara for weeks. Working fifteen-hour days he had no time to journey west, and Call Jace allowed no highlanders to venture out into the valleys. Beetleback patrols had trebled, and Kaelin constantly saw soldiers riding the hills in groups of fifty or more. The town of Black Mountain seethed with beetlebacks, and many of the surrounding fields were covered by tents and picket lines.
One morning, in late spring, Colonel Ranaud rode up to Ironlatch Farm, leading a hundred soldiers and a score of wagons. Kaelin walked out to meet him. The colonel stepped down, then waved the wagons forward.
‘What is happening, sir?’ asked Kaelin.
This is the most westerly farm, Master Ring. It commands fine views of the valley. If Call Jace leads out his Rigante they will first be seen from here. I am commandeering the farm buildings. My men will build perimeter defences and a watchtower. We will disrupt the work of the farm as little as possible, and any beef that needs to be slaughtered to feed the soldiers will be paid for.’
‘You think Call Jace will lead his men against you?’
‘Indeed I do, Master Ring.’
‘Why would he do something so foolish?’
Ranaud smiled and shrugged. ‘Why indeed?’ he said.
The soldiers worked for several days, digging out a long trench across the new western wall, and dragging up five cannon to face the western approaches. Two watchtowers were erected, one towering above the milking sheds, the other on a small hill to the north of the house. Kaelin watched the enterprise with growing concern. Ranaud was right. Ironlatch was a strategic location. Any attacking force would have to cross some three hundred yards of open ground with no cover.