‘You’re not concentrating,’ said Elicas sternly. ‘What’s the matter with you? The Legion has a lot of wages tied up in this tourney.’
‘I know.’
His mind cleared. No matter what the reason, he could not fight to lose.
He threw everything he could into the last attack, blocked a back-hand.sweep and lunged. Just before his blade thudded against Orrin’s belly, however, the Gan’s sword tapped his neck. Orrin had read the move and lured him in. In real combat both men would have died, but this was not real combat and
Orrin had won. The two men shook hands as the cheering soldiers swarmed forward.
‘That’s my money gone,’ said Elicas. ‘Still, there is a bright side.’
‘What’s that?’ said Hogun, rubbing at his burning forearm.
‘I cannot afford to settle our own bet. You will have to stand for the wine. It’s the least you can do, Hogun, after letting down the Legion!’
The banquet lifted Hogun’s spirits and the speeches from Bar Britan on behalf of the soldiers and Dun Pinar for the officers were witty and short; the food was good, the wine and ale plentiful, and the camaraderie reassuring. It is hardly the same Dros, thought Hogun.
Outside at the portcullis gates, Bregan stood sentry duty with a tall young Cul from Group Fire. Bregan didn’t know his name and couldn’t ask, since sentries were forbidden to talk on duty. A strange rule, thought Bregan, but there to be obeyed.
The night was chill but he barely noticed it. His thoughts were back in the village with Lotis and the children. Sybad had received a letter that day, and all was well. Legan, Bregan’s five-year-old son, was mentioned. It seemed that when he climbed a tall elm and couldn’t get down, he had cried and called for his father. Bregan had asked Sybad to write a few words for him in his next letter home. He had wanted him to say how much he loved and missed them all, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask Sybad to pen such endearments. Instead, he asked him to tell Legan to be a good boy and obey his mother. Sybad took notes from all the villagers and spent the early evening composing the letter, which was sealed in wax and delivered to the mail room. A rider would carry it south with other letters and army despatches for Drenan.
Lotis would have banked the fire by now and doused the lamps, Bregan thought. She would be lying in their rush-filled bed, probably asleep. Legan would be asleep beside her, he knew, for Lotis always found it difficult to sleep alone when Bregan was away.
‘You will stop the savages, daddy, won’t you?’
‘Yes,’ Bregan had told him. ‘But they probably won’t come. The politicians will sort it out, just like they have always done before/ ‘
‘Will you be home soon?’
‘I’ll be back for Harvest Supper.’
‘Promise?’
‘I promise.’
*
The banquet over, Druss invited Orrin, Hogun, Elicas and Bowman to the Earl’s study above the great hall. The servant Arshin brought them wine and Druss introduced the outlaw to the fortress leaders. Orrin shook hands coolly, his eyes showing his distaste. For two years he had sent patrols into Skultik with orders to catch and hang the outlaw leader. Hogun was less concerned with Bowman’s pedigree and more interested in the skills the outlaws could bring. Elicas had no preconceived opinion, but instinctively liked the blond archer.
Once seated, Bowman cleared his throat and told them the size of the Nadir horde gathered at Gulgothir.
‘How do you come by this intelligence?’ asked Orrin.
‘Three days ago we . . . met. . . some travellers in Skultik. They were journeying from Dros Purdol to Segril and had come across the northern desert.
‘They were waylaid near Gulgothir and taken into the city, where they stayed for four days. Because they were Vagrian merchants they were treated civilly, but questioned by a Nadir officer called Surip. One of them is a former Vagrian officer, and he made the estimate of their strength.’
‘But half a million?’ said Orrin. ‘I thought the figure was exaggerated.’
‘Underplayed, if anything,’ said Bowman. ‘Outlying tribes were still coming in when he left. I’d say you will have quite a battle on your hands.’