Dear Captain Strake,
Two days ago your wife had quite a fright. One of the Twilight People spied in the window of her room. Your wife screamed and fainted, but Rachel Warren heard and ran to her aid. She got your wife into bed and we, the women of Temperance, have been seeing to her care.
I am writing you to let you know that she is well, if a bit weak. She promises to write you when she is able. She says you should not worry about her, that she will be fine, and should not cause you the least bit of concern.
We all hope you are doing well and we look forward to your homecoming as soon as the Good Lord permits.
Sincerely,
Mrs. Archibald Frost
'Seth, no other letters?'
'Just orders to the cavalry and some things to local folks.'
'How often have supplies come in?'
'Some here and there. Bargers say normal traffic coming in and out of Margaretstown. Horses is waiting on a boat to bring them up from Temperance.'
'Why didn't they just use the Bellepheron? '
'Heard tell she got loose of her moorings in the bay. Ran aground.'
Tharyngian agents or… Owen shook his head. His uncle wouldn't have engineered the ship running aground. It was unnecessary. Rivendell already had insufficient troops and the cavalry were the least of them. In fact, since the Fortress of Death would be especially difficult for the cavalry to attack, having them on foot made them better.
Or is he hoping that Rivendell will see the impossibility of the attack and just build Fort Hope? Any other commander might have done that, but Rivendell? His grasp on reality was tenuous at best. If he went ahead with the attack, using dismounted cavalry as infantry, he would kill off the scions of many noble houses. This would poison their blood against Rivendell. The lack of horses did play to the outcome his uncle desired, no matter what Rivendell decided.
'Seth, I will have two letters to head back in the morning. Will you see to it they get to Temperance?'
The man nodded. 'Be needing some time to myself after all the doings here. Glad to, Captain.'
'Thank you.' Owen sighed. 'First, I have to talk to the Prince. He needs to know what's been going on. Then, my friend, we have to pray he can fix it.'
Chapter Fifty-Nine
July 24, 1764
Fort Cuivre
Lac Verleau, New Tharyngia
N athaniel handed Major Forest back his spyglass. 'I reckon that is near the damnedest thing I have ever seen.'
'It is, and us with a hundred and then some men and no cannon to destroy it.'
'Least ways we got here.' Nathaniel smiled. 'Mayhap that'll have been the toughest part of it all.'
Forest snapped the spyglass shut. 'It will be as nothing to what comes. Tough as that journey was, cracking this nut will be tougher.'
'Has the looks of a jeopard lair to it, does Fort Cuivre.'
The Tharyngians had built Fort Cuivre on Lac Verleau's eastern shore, at the outflow of the Argent River. The river was two hundred yards wide at the outlet, and flowed strongly as well as deep. The fort's wharves had two corvettes and numerous canoes moored there. To the west, the lake's blue-green waters stretched on as far as the eye could see.
The fort itself had been dug down into a small hill. The hill's west and south sides had been faced in stone. A tall palisade wall protected the fort on the north, east, and south side. The west remained open toward the wharves, but had a small stone wall with two cannon placements and two other stations where small swivel-guns had been rigged. The guns had been set up to discourage Shedashee raids.
The fort itself ran fifty yards on a side, with walls rising on average a dozen feet above the hilltop. A minimal amount of work had been done to prepare glacises to the north and east. Trees had been cleared for approximately sixty yards around the fort. Undergrowth remained save to the north where some fields had been plowed. This far north, the maize crop was barely waist-high compared to being over a man's head down south in Bounty.
Fort Cuivre boasted a dozen more cannon neatly split into three groups of four on the north, east, and south walls. Towers at the corners gave lookouts good vantage points, but the men on duty appeared to be bored. A dozen men who were off duty, and not assigned to farming or gathering wood, spent their time fishing. When one of them landed a big salmon, a general cheer went up. The fisherman cleaned it, kindled a fire and, in short order, was parceling out steaming filets to his friends.
To prevent a ship of the line getting into the lake, a smaller stone tower had been built on the southern bank. That put it on ground claimed by Norisle. A heavy chain stretched between the two buildings. Two Ryngian soldiers stood guard in the small tower and Nathaniel guessed two more were crowded in below. Around the tower the woods had been chopped back only twenty yards and no one had made an attempt at clearing brush.
Forest rubbed at his eyes. 'The troops are wearing blue coats, green facings with gold trim. They're part of the Silicium Regiment, probably Second battalion. They outnumber us by a company.'
'I reckon we can even them odds.'
'No doubt about it.' Forest pointed with his hook. 'The cannon can fire into the woods all around, but muskets can barely reach. The fort's cannon can cover the small tower, but musket-fire cannot. The small tower is ours when we want it, but taking it gives us no advantage.'
'I reckon they might want to recover it.'
'They might, but a commander with half a brain would just knock the tower down, and us in it. Set out pickets. Let them know I want no shots fired.'
'I'll be picking men with sharp knives.'
'Good, and it will be a cold camp. Can't afford fires alerting the Ryngians. If we are to take that fort, our only ally will be surprise.'
They studied the Ryngians for a full day and learned some useful facts. The tower garrison consisted of six soldiers. To change the garrison, six men paddled a canoe across the river at dawn and the garrison hopped into it and paddled back. The exchange took ten minutes at a landing a mere twenty yards from the woods. During the exchange the tower remained unoccupied.
Fort Cuivre sent out hunting parties and wood-gathering parties several times a day, beginning at dawn. The hunters carried muskets, but the soldiers sent to gather firewood only carried axes. Both groups disappeared into the forest in the course of executing their duties.
At noon on the twenty-fifth, Forest gathered his officers together. 'Fort Cuivre's garrison probably has three men for every two of us. Tomorrow morning we'll capture a dozen of them. From them we'll learn more about the garrison's condition. They look a bit scrawny, but no less so than we.'
Nathaniel smiled. He'd always been on the lean side, but Makepeace had complained he could see his own ribs. Most everyone else had clothing hanging looser on them. Benjamin Beecher had become positively skeletal. He sat quietly and looked as if he'd stop breathing at any time.
'Now we really can't lay a proper siege to the fort because of those corvettes. They can sail on down, get supplies, and come back. There's nothing we can do to stop them.'
Thomas Hill-one of the Summerland boys-raised a hand. 'Me and some of the others sailed a mite. Get us aboard one and we can deal with the other.'
'Getting your ship out of the docks before the landward cannons and the other corvette sink it? I would not want to risk your life on that.' Forest frowned. 'Unless the Ryngian commander is a complete idiot, he has no reason to come out and engage us. He has the fort and we have to come take it.'
Caleb raised a hand. 'Permission to speak, Major.'
'Yes, Lieutenant?'
