himself. So much trust for one so young. Pella had come far since the streets of Sonsa.
The boy said, “It’s about Arnhand invading the Connec. In defiance of Krois and the Collegium.”
Hecht sent orders for the companies to tighten up, then had the trumpets sound Officers’ Call. And kept moving. The soldiers came alert. Something was up. They feared that something was unlikely to be good.
A message from Count Raymone arrived during the officers’ meeting. It reported rumors of an Arnhander army headed for Viscesment, to capture the bridges there before invading the Connec. The Count had friends and agents in Salpeno. And Anne of Menand had enemies willing to betray Arnhand if that would burn the whore.
“Gentlemen, it’s clear. Anne of Menand has defied the Patriarch. She’s sending troops into the Connec to cleanse it of the Maysalean Heresy. Her real motive is probably the same old grab for property and power. There seem to be three armies. One is coming our way. It numbers between two thousand and twenty-eight hundred, the leadership mostly people Anne of Menand would like to be shut of. It should accumulate Grolsachers along the way. The Patriarch wants us to stop these people. We have the numbers and the skills. And these won’t be men eager to die for Anne of Menand. So we have to delay our holidays. In the meantime, we need to secure Viscesment and its bridges.”
He expected grumbling.
There was a lot of grumbling. The officers reminded the men that while commanded by the Captain-General they had never missed their pay. How many soldiers could say that?
In many armies the leaders considered the opportunity to steal money meant for the men to be one of the perquisites of command.
Titus Consent, possibly the most disgruntled Patriarchal of all, said, “There may be irony at work, here.”
“Yes?” Hecht asked.
“It’s well known that since Regard took the throne Anne and her Church cronies have taxed Arnhand blind. She must have sent some of that with her crusaders.”
Consent launched a long-winded explanation of his reasoning. Hecht listened with half an ear, already worrying how best to carry out his orders while minimizing the suffering of his troops. “What was that?”
“I said if they bring as big a war chest as they’ll need to finance a long campaign, we could take enough to keep the troops together.”
What next? was on the minds of thousands.
“Maybe, Titus. Maybe. One thing at a time.”
The Patriarchal army reached Viscesment with days to spare. The Arnhander crusaders did not want to be in the field. They moved just fast enough to soften the screeches of the Society monks. The force had been raised according to the laws of the feudal levy. Their forty days were rolling away. They might never have to fight if they dithered long enough.
Consent was right about the war chest. The bishops who considered themselves to be in charge intended to keep the army together by taking its men into pay. Once they had completed their feudal obligations, they could not imagine the nobles and knights not being willing, even eager to continue. They would be, after all, doing God’s work.
Titus Consent sent agents to meet them. Those assessed the oncoming troops, took names, estimated individual wealth. Disgruntlement vanished in the face of confidence and the expectation of ransoms.
The grumbling changed character. Now the men groused about not getting a chance at the bigger Arnhander columns out west, where richer prizes could be taken. Even King Regard, in the field again because that was the only way to escape his terrible mother.
The Captain-General was less sanguine. What was he missing? Why would Anne send a force so small-even counting on it being reinforced by essentially useless Grolsachers-against his own veteran force?
Count Raymone Garete and Socia offered an answer that fifth evening, two before the crusaders were expected to slouch into view. Hecht was entertaining them at a small, private supper.
“You’re ignoring faith, Captain-General. You’re overlooking the fact that Anne is so sure her cause is righteous, she can’t imagine that the Church would do anything to stop her. Corrupt as her life may be otherwise, she truly believes she’s doing the work of God in this. She knows, beyond any doubt, that you’ll step aside after a token gesture to maintain the pretense of honor. I have friends inside Arnhand’s councils. The people most devoted to this crusade absolutely believe that your soldiers will defect before they risk their souls fighting God’s Will. They’re also convinced that you won’t resist a chance to finish what you started last year.”
Hecht asked, “Titus. Do you know any of our men who actually think like that?”
“A few may. Possibly. I haven’t run into them. I know some who say they’ve let Society spies think they feel that way. Hoping they’ll keep coming to the harvest.”
Always there were complications. Problems guessing the true loyalties of various men. Hecht believed he could count on most of his people. But adding religion to any equation altered its balance unpredictably.
Men would do bizarre things when they thought their immortal souls were at stake.
“Let’s not disabuse them of their illusions. Once Count Raymone leaves us, and has gotten a good head start, start a rumor that I plan to arrest him. Count, I’ve come up with a fairly complicated scheme that could help us succeed at slight cost.”
“I’m all ears.”
“As may be these walls. The Anti-Patriarchs had several fine quiet rooms. I suggest we use the nearest after supper.”
Arnhander scouts informed their commanders that the Captain-General’s troops were headed back to Firaldia. A few remained in Viscesment, getting ready to go chase Count Raymone Garete as soon as an accommodation with the crusaders had been reached. If they could not capture the wicked Count they would, at least, cut him off from Antieux.
“We’ll find out how much those people are slaves to their own wishful thinking,” Hecht said. “Titus. Has it been going smoothly?”
Consent was one of few staffers who hadn’t been sent to set up what was coming.
“Like clockwork.”
“I worry when things go too well.”
“And you worry when they don’t. You just plain worry.”
“Oh. Yes. I guess I do. And something that’s worrying me now is, I don’t see any Deves around anymore. Have we lost them?”
“Yes. I get very little out of the Devedian community anymore. When I do I’m not sure it’s any good.”
“Why?”
“They feel badly used in the matter of Krulik and Sneigon.”
“They feel badly used? They do?”
“No point yelling at me. They think they have the right to do whatever they want with their product as long as they fill your needs first. The constraints imposed after the explosions, and after they were found out, they consider unreasonable. Outright oppressive, even.”
Though inclined, Hecht did not say that he was fully capable of showing those people some real oppression.
“Where are they building their secret foundries?”
“Sir? Piper?”
“I’m not stupid, Titus. Nor are you naive enough to think they’ve accepted the rules we set down. They see a chance to get rich fixing the rest of us up to kill each other more effectively. It’ll take more than one rebuke for them to get my message.”
Consent’s eyes narrowed. His face hardened. “Was Krulik and Sneigon destroyed on purpose?”
“No. But I might’ve if I’d known what we found out after we got into their records. I wouldn’t lose any sleep, either. The way they were operating, they would’ve sold the powder Rudenes Schneidel’s thugs used to attack Anna’s house. They don’t care how their product is used as long as it’s paid for.”
“I do understand… What, Berdak?”
“A gentleman wants to see the Captain-General. He says it’s life-and-death critical. He has plenipotentiary credentials from the Imperial court.”
Ferris Renfrow. Or, if not Renfrow, Algres Drear. Which could have dramatically different implications.
