silent, looking at the King, for a long moment. The King started to speak, stopped, looked round the table. Harald broke the silence.
" 'We' included the host of the Order—two thousand of the best light cavalry this side the western plains. If the Empire invades tomorrow, how many?"
"The Empire is not going to invade tomorrow. Not this year. Not next year."
Andrew spoke. "The Empire is tied down in Belkhan, a hundred miles and more north and east of the Borderflood, besieging a castle that has not fallen in a hundred years. One war is enough for them. They may settle the revolt in two years, in three. By then our troubles are dealt with, the Order more safely ours than before."
"I fear, my lord, that your information is out of date. A month ago, Cliff Keep fell to the second and twenty-third legions under Commander Artos. With the Inner Lands open, the rest of the rebels made terms or fled. If His Imperial Majesty wishes to turn his attention south the legions—more important, the Commander—are free."
Harald stopped. The room was silent. The King looked at his cousin. Andrew shook his head.
"I have heard no such news. Rumor. Perhaps a story spread by the Imperials to discourage other provinces from rebellion."
The King turned to Harald. "Your Excellency?"
"My neighbor's son was with the rebels."
"One mercenary. Even if he is honest, he might have been fooled by rumor—especially if he was looking for an excuse to come home." Andrew fell silent.
Harald looked straight back at him. "He brought Gryfydd an Gwyllian with him; we had the Count to dinner two nights before I left Haraldholt. The revolt's done."
Andrew said something quietly to the King, rose, left the room. Nobody spoke. At last the King broke the silence.
"My thanks for your news. This indeed means that we must settle the rebels quickly."
"Peacefully, Your Majesty. Corpses cannot fight. Every Lady your Wolves kill is one less bow beside us when next we face the legions."
"I will remember that, Excellency. But we have talked too long; my throat at least is dry."
The King clapped his hands. A moment later the door opened, admitting servants with wine, beer, trays of sweetmeats. As they put them out the King rose, walked to the door, turned.
"Refresh yourselves, Excellencies. I will be back shortly."
Stephen turned to Harald. "Things were very peaceful."
"In this room perhaps. What do your watchers on the Borderflood see?"
"Nothing coming across the fords but a few pack trains."
Harald turned to the lord across the table, younger than Stephen, broken nose, a long scar from cheek to chin.
"And the western fords?"
"More than a few—most of them heading over Northgate to your doorstep. The usual guards, some of them your people. No armies."
"I passed some of them coming east. My womenfolk are doubtless overjoyed."
The King came back into the room, took his place at the head of the table. Two of the lords refilled their goblets; the room grew silent.
"His Excellency has pointed out that we must settle the rebellion quickly with as little bloodshed as can be, lest the Empire find opportunity in our troubles. I had hoped to succeed without calling on your levies by expanding the royal messengers into a force sufficient for the purpose. Their chief asks more money to recruit more men. Your judgment."
Gray hair, gray beard, the lord of Estmark rose to his feet.
"Your Majesty, I'll speak plain. I don't know how many of the bandits in the plains are Wolves and how many only say they are, but my people, farmers, are arming, building walls, asking troops from my guard to protect them. We need fewer, not more."
A southern lord stood.
"I've had no trouble with Wolves, Majesty. But anyone can see what they are—men with swords, not soldiers. Hire two thousand, open field against the host, you'd have a lot of graves to dig. Make peace or make war."
He sat down; the King waited a moment, but no one else spoke.
"So we
" 'We' included the host of the Order—two thousand of the best light cavalry this side the western plains. If the Empire invades tomorrow, how many?"
"The Empire is not going to invade tomorrow. Not this year. Not next year."
Andrew spoke. "The Empire is tied down in Belkhan, a hundred miles and more north and east of the Borderflood, besieging a castle that has not fallen in a hundred years. One war is enough for them. They may settle the revolt in two years, in three. By then our troubles are dealt with, the Order more safely ours than before."
"I fear, my lord, that your information is out of date. A month ago, Cliff Keep fell to the second and twenty-third legions under Commander Artos. With the Inner Lands open, the rest of the rebels made terms or fled. If His Imperial Majesty wishes to turn his attention south the legions—more important, the Commander—are free."
Harald stopped. The room was silent. The King looked at his cousin. Andrew shook his head.
"I have heard no such news. Rumor. Perhaps a story spread by the Imperials to discourage other provinces from rebellion."
The King turned to Harald. "Your Excellency?"
"My neighbor's son was with the rebels."
"One mercenary. Even if he is honest, he might have been fooled by rumor—especially if he was looking for an excuse to come home." Andrew fell silent.
Harald looked straight back at him. "He brought Gryfydd an Gwyllian with him; we had the Count to dinner two nights before I left Haraldholt. The revolt's done."
Andrew said something quietly to the King, rose, left the room. Nobody spoke. At last the King broke the silence.
"My thanks for your news. This indeed means that we must settle the rebels quickly."
"Peacefully, Your Majesty. Corpses cannot fight. Every Lady your Wolves kill is one less bow beside us when next we face the legions."
"I will remember that, Excellency. But we have talked too long; my throat at least is dry."
The King clapped his hands. A moment later the door opened, admitting servants with wine, beer, trays of sweetmeats. As they put them out the King rose, walked to the door, turned.
"Refresh yourselves, Excellencies. I will be back shortly."
Stephen turned to Harald. "Things were very peaceful."
"In this room perhaps. What do your watchers on the Borderflood see?"
"Nothing coming across the fords but a few pack trains."
Harald turned to the lord across the table, younger than Stephen, broken nose, a long scar from cheek to chin.
"And the western fords?"
"More than a few—most of them heading over Northgate to your doorstep. The usual guards, some of them your people. No armies."
"I passed some of them coming east. My womenfolk are doubtless overjoyed."
The King came back into the room, took his place at the head of the table. Two of the lords refilled their goblets; the room grew silent.
"His Excellency has pointed out that we must settle the rebellion quickly with as little bloodshed as can be, lest the Empire find opportunity in our troubles. I had hoped to succeed without calling on your levies by expanding the royal messengers into a force sufficient for the purpose. Their chief asks more money to recruit more men. Your judgment."
Gray hair, gray beard, the lord of Estmark rose to his feet.
"Your Majesty, I'll speak plain. I don't know how many of the bandits in the plains are Wolves and how many only say they are, but my people, farmers, are arming, building walls, asking troops from my guard to protect them. We need fewer, not more."
A southern lord stood.
"I've had no trouble with Wolves, Majesty. But anyone can see what they are—men with swords, not soldiers. Hire two thousand, open field against the host, you'd have a lot of graves to dig. Make peace or make war."
He sat down; the King waited a moment, but no one else spoke.
"So we
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