and they’ll freeze their asses to their saddles before the afternoon’s over.”
“… might end up with the bloody flux,” muttered someone from farther back in the shed.
“Not likely,” said the captain sharply. “Not if you take care of yourselves.”
“Yes, sir.”
Meinyt walked his mount past each of the remaining rankers. Although Quaeryt couldn’t tell for certain, he had the feeling that the captain had lost more than a squad in the fight to take the hold, although “taking” it wasn’t exactly what had happened because, despite the snow and rain, the main building had turned into a conflagration that was still burning, if not nearly so fiercely as earlier.
Skarpa returned from wherever he’d been in the large wintering barn and stopped by Quaeryt, who was doing his best to remove the cold and near-frozen mud from the mare.
“Good thing you did out there, scholar,” said the major.
“I saw a chance. They weren’t expecting a rider with something as long as a staff.”
“You saved close to a squad doing that. They almost took you down. Don’t see how you managed to knock aside three pikes with that staff, but I’m glad you did.”
Quaeryt snorted. “I doubt I could do it again. I didn’t know what I was doing, except that I knew if I could make a gap in the pikes…”
“There’s some officers couldn’t figure that out so quick … not in a mess like this.”
“You’re kind, Major. We just do what we can.”
“Maybe … but I appreciate it. Some of the rankers won’t even know, but I do.” Skarpa nodded. “Have to report to the commander.”
Quaeryt returned to the task of removing cold mud from the mare and from himself and his gear. He glanced outside and shuddered.
He didn’t even have a winter jacket.
85
The cold rain abated for a time late on Lundi afternoon, only to be followed by a chilling north wind, which created thin ice on top of the mud, and then by a driving snow that was already ankle-deep by the time Quaeryt collapsed into his blanket that night, where, despite the comparative warmth provided by the combination of horses and men, he shivered through the night, even wearing his browns, his brown jacket, and another shirt. When he finally rose on Mardi, the snow was more than boot-deep, and it continued to fall intermittently throughout the long gray day.
The cooks did manage a hot meal on Mardi night, another hash-like offering, with mutton that had been dried before it was cooked, with potato strips, but it was warm, and for that Quaeryt was thankful. As he sat after eating, perched on a support beam in the barn beside Skarpa, he asked, “Why doesn’t the regiment have its archers here?” He’d heard what Straesyr had said, but he wanted to hear what the major said.
“We have a company or so. What would we use them for? They’re useful in pitched battles, but a man with a blade is more effective here in the hills for what we do. You’ve seen the attacks. An archer wouldn’t even know where to aim most of the time, and they’re not good at close-in fighting. I think I saw our company. They’re here. Commander’s likely saving them for where they’ll do the most good.”
Quaeryt considered. Given the hit and run tactics of the hill holders, he could see that. The hill rebels had only massed at Waerfyl’s and only for a few moments. Archers really wouldn’t have helped much so far. “How long will we be here, do you think?”
“The sky’s clearing now. Tomorrow will be warmer, enough to melt the snow, and we’ll be back on the road by Jeudi, Vendrei at the latest,” predicted the major.
“With the snow this deep?” Quaeryt had a hard time believing that. Was Skarpa jesting … or was the weather that changeable?
Skarpa looked at Quaeryt and laughed. “You’ll see.”
Quaeryt did indeed.
Meredi dawned clear, and by late afternoon the air was warm, and the snow was mostly gone, with that which remained having turned largely to slush … and mud, gloopy gray mud. The battalions spent the day cleaning gear and preparing to resume the campaign. That didn’t happen until Vendrei morning, because Rescalyn decided another day would provide more rest … and drier and more secure roads.
Again … before sunrise, the regiment leveled everything, putting all that could not be removed to the torch, and moved out, the wounded in commandeered wagons heading back to Boralieu, along with the valuables salvaged from the holding. The main body took the road that led in its winding way northwest toward Huisfyl’s holding.
The roads were mostly dry, but the horses threw up enough mud that Quaeryt’s trousers were spattered below the knees. Again, there were no attacks from the roadside, but that wasn’t unexpected, because while the snow had melted in the areas reached by the sun, such as the roads and lanes, much still remained in the depths of the woods.
The sky remained clear throughout Vendrei, but the warmth of Meredi and Jeudi slipped away, and a light but chill breeze blew consistently out of the north.
By late afternoon, Quaeryt was feeling chilled, and he turned in the saddle toward Meinyt, riding to his right. “What happened to the warm day we had yesterday?”
“That’s the way fall is in Tilbor,” replied Meinyt. “Rain, snow, warm, cold, frost, warm … it changes every day. Each time it warms up, it’s not as warm as the last time. By the end of Finitas, it just doesn’t ever warm up again. Not until mid-Maris. Then everything melts at once, and you get two-three weeks of mud.”
Quaeryt was glad he didn’t have to be around for winter and the mud that followed. The shiver he felt at that thought wasn’t just from the chill breeze that gusted around him.
86
Vendrei evening the regiment stopped at and took over one of the few hamlets in the Boran Hills, consisting of less than a score of dwellings, including what passed for a chandlery or store, a blacksmith’s shop, and an inn that had but five rooms to let, and a public room. Even using stables, barns, and sheds, and the porches of the inn, less than a third of the regiment was under roof that night, but at least the wind abated … or was less fierce in the sheltered location of the hamlet.
Since there had been no resistance, when the regiment pulled out on Samedi morning, the hamlet was much as it had been. Rescalyn had been most firm about not harming property or inhabitants of those who welcomed or did not resist Telaryn forces.
At close to eighth glass that morning, as the regiment neared Huisfyl’s hold … arrows arched down on the lead elements of the column from the top of a low bluff a hundred yards away. Since the arrows showed no sign of ceasing, Rescalyn sent two companies from Fourth Battalion through the woods, which still held some traces of snow, but they returned empty-handed, and with five men wounded, one of whom had taken a shaft in the chest and was unlikely to survive.
By ninth glass, the regiment drew up in the trees to the south of Huisfyl’s hold, more of a compound than a hold, since it was unlike any of the others Quaeryt had seen. A rough stone wall, no more than chest-high, formed an irregular oval around a series of buildings set almost at random on the rough but gently sloped ground that ran from a low point above a creek in the west to a higher level in the northwest. Paths, rather than lanes, ran from building to building. Some fifty yards above the northwest section of the wall, the forest resumed, like a bastion of massive pines and spruces. The largest dwelling within the wall, less than a quarter the size of the smallest of the holds of the three that had fallen so far, was located as the highest structure on the hill, but the structures below seemed to alternate between outbuildings, sheds, barns, and smaller dwellings, and all were constructed of large
