“What do you see, son? Like the others, I see nothing.”
Alain could only whisper. “It’s true. What she says is true.”
“This is not what I had planned for,” said the count, as if to himself. Then, with no change of expression, he turned to his captain. “To arms! Sound the horn!” The captain signaled, and at once the blare of the horn lifted, a high note caught in faint echoes off the distant bluffs. The camp came alive with movement as soldiers prepared for battle and manned both outer rampart at the base of the hill and the inner one near the top which used the slope to best effect.
Then, and only then, did the count’s eyes widen with astonishment as he stared eastward. His expression hardened as he examined the tide of Eika. He set a hand on Alain’s shoulder, and for the space of three breaths they stood thus, together, as the Eika flooded toward them over the fields. Finally he turned even as the captains uttered oaths or caught in gasps, at last seeing through the illusion. By now they could hear the howling of the Eika dogs and the ululations of the screaming Eika. The drums shuddered like thunder through the air.
“My captains!” Lavastine caught their attention and held it with his gaze and his posture. A servant ran up beside the platform and handed his helmet and a cup of wine up to him. This cup he passed among those assembled before him.
“There are more Eika than I hoped, but all is not lost. Our plan remains the same. Alain, stay on the hill. You, and the bulk of our army, which holds the hill, are the anvil. I, with the cavalry, will be the hammer. Had we more warning, we would have had more chance to strike them unawares from the rear—but nevertheless our only hope is to use our cavalry to destroy them on the field. Assemble your riders.” Each took a drink from the cup, pledging their courage and strength, and left. Only Lavastine’s captain and the Eagle remained, together with Lavastine’s personal servants, themselves armed and ready with shields hitched across their backs and spears in hand.
“Alain.” He touched the cup to his own lips and then handed it to Alain. “I will return to you through the Eika host and meet you here. God’s grace upon you, son. Trust our captain, who will remain beside you. Trust your own instincts. You are a born soldier.”
He leaned forward and kissed Alain on the forehead. Stunned, Alain could only drop to his knees before the count and grab his hand, to kiss it.
“Do not kneel before me,” said the count irritably, lifting him up. “You are my heir and need kneel before no one but God.”
“I will not fail you, Father,” said Alain, surprised he could speak at all.
“Of course you won’t! Eagle, attend me.”
Liath cast a glance over her shoulder, but only one, as she hurried after the count. The hounds, barking, tails whipping with excitement, clustered around Alain as he watched them go.
The cavalry assembled on the western side of the hill, hidden from the Eika assault—or so Liath prayed. She tried to estimate their numbers, perhaps three hundred in all. Behind, the infantry who had dug into the hill numbered at most twice that many. As she moved down the hill with the count, he inquired of the other business she had been about.
“The river’s mouth is chained. One Eika ship already has been destroyed. We found the tunnel.”
Lavastine watched as the units formed up under their banners: the black hounds of Lavas behind him, the red eagle of Fesse behind Lady Amalia, Lord Wichman and his men at the head of the gold lion of Saony, Lord Dedi with the raven tower of Autun and the guivre of Arconia. “How far from here to the tunnel?”
“I saw the Eika leave the gates of Gent and yet I arrived here before them.” She heard, nearing their position, the beat of drums and a low shuddering roar. “It lies just beyond that bluff,” she lifted her hand to point, “beyond the small wood.”
“You’ve done well, Eagle.”
Now he lifted a hand, seeing his cavalry in place.
Ai, Lady. If only the count had waited in Steleshame, perhaps Henry would have come. But he had had a plan, and yet, as plans often do, it had come to naught. He had planned to meet the Eika in battle in the field, forcing their hand by moving siege engines into place and then meeting their sally with his cavalry as his infantry used the tunnel to enter the city, but now the opposite was true. His foot soldiers were pinned; to abandon his horses and lead his cavalry soldiers, on foot, through the tunnel into Gent would condemn those on the hill to annihilation. Yet surely the city had been emptied of Eika. A surprise attack from within could take the city and probably hold it against an Eika army stuck outside the gates—but by then that army would have done their gruesome work at Lavastine’s camp, a camp commanded by his only child.