He looked around again and, somewhat to his relief, saw that the Whendreachi guards seemed to be familiar with this type of problem. After their initial charge they were working in groups to pick out and deal with individual offenders. This tactic not only lessened the intensity of the assaults, but made the guards the new focus as the youths sought to rescue their compatriots.
'This way!’ an officer shouted to Ryllans. He was pointing to a narrow alleyway nearby. Instinctively, Ryllans looked up at the rooftops for would-be ambushers, but the officer shouted again more insistently.
A figure surged from between two horses and grabbed at Ryllans in an attempt to unhorse him. For his pains he received a snakelike flick of the Mantynnai's fingers across the end of his nose which sent him reeling backwards, howling in pain, but uninjured.
The next assailant was treated less charitably and caught the heel of Ryllans’ thrusting boot squarely on the jaw. He collapsed without a sound.
Others among the platoon were dealing similarly with such of the youths as reached them, and a degree of reluctance was beginning to show itself in their attackers. It was no victory however: the youths merely fell back and increased their stone-throwing.
'Hurry. Follow me,’ the Whendreachi officer shouted urgently, riding into the alleyway. ‘My men will form a rearguard. We can reach the other street before they can get around.'
Still supporting Arwain, Ryllans rode after him, and the rest of the platoon followed. The alleyway was barely wide enough for two horses to ride side by side, and Ryllans had to lean forward awkwardly to support Arwain as they clattered along it. Shouts and screams followed after them.
The street they entered at the far end was quieter, and such people as were there seemed to offer no threat, though seeing the horsemen emerge from the alleyway at speed, several of them began to scurry away, obviously in anticipation of trouble. Ryllans handed Arwain to one of his comrades as he checked the rest of the platoon leaving the alleyway.
All arrived safely without serious injury, though there were several with cuts and bruises. He noted, however, that several of the Whendreachi guards were missing.
'Your men?’ he said, catching the officer's arm as he rode by.
'They'll keep them occupied for a while,’ the officer replied. ‘Don't worry, they're used to this kind of thing. And the Watchguards will be along soon. But we must keep moving.’ He nodded towards the bleeding Arwain. ‘We can't stop to look at your man. Just keep him in his saddle and follow me.'
He made no further delay but galloped off immediately, beckoning Ryllans to follow.
As they swung to the left at the end of the street, a group of youths came running from the right.
This time, seeing his attackers clearly, and unhindered by passers-by, Ryllans led a group of the Mantynnai wide and scattered them without losing speed. The Whendreachi officer gave him a wave of thanks.
There were no further incidents as they galloped through the city, but it was apparent to Ryllans that the officer was avoiding the larger streets. Despite the urgency of their flight, he noted that many of the buildings they passed were similar in style to those in the Moras district, although they were clean and well maintained. He felt an incongruous twinge of regret that he had not been able to spend more time looking at the famous Whendreachi architecture.
As they neared the gate, it became clear that, though rapid, their pace had not been rapid enough; a crowd was already gathering. And people were arriving from every direction. Again they were mainly youths, though Ryllans saw several older men among them, and many were wearing the grey uniform that Garren and his supporters had worn. A small force of guards was struggling to keep the gate open.
The officer swore softly to himself. ‘We'll do our best,’ he said to Ryllans. ‘But I can't guarantee your safety.’ There was anger in his eyes as he looked at Ryllans. ‘You'll understand what it costs me to say this, soldier. These are my people and my problem, and we neither want nor need you here. But do what you have to do to survive if we can't hold them for you. Try not to kill anyone if you can avoid it.'
Ryllans nodded. ‘Triple file, and trot,’ he shouted to the platoon. ‘Follow the guards and defend yourselves as needed. Minimum effective force.'
As they moved forward, Ryllans jumped from his horse on to Arwain's and, pushing him forward, covered him with his own body.
The crowd began shouting and throwing stones as they drew near and the group trying to shut the gate increased its efforts.
Unexpectedly, the Whendreachi officer signalled a halt and then walked his horse forward a little way.
Ryllans, fearing treachery, discreetly positioned himself to draw his sword quickly and to lead his men through at the charge.
The officer conspicuously returned his staff to its loop on his saddle, then he held up his hand for silence. The stone-throwing stopped and the shouting began to die down.
'These people are official representatives of Duke Ibris of Serenstad,’ he said, authoritatively. ‘They're here unarmed, bar two of them, in strict accordance with both the letter and the spirit of the treaty. They're entitled under our law to courtesy and safe passage.’ The crowd grew quieter, as the majority tried to hear what he was saying. Their general demeanour, however, was still hostile and abusive.
Someone gave a cry of command and the group by the gate began trying to close it again.
The officer stood in his stirrups and pointed to the group. Then, in a voice that had obviously rung out across many training yards, and through which a marked Whendreachi accent was breaking, he bellowed, ‘Shut that if you want, but be advised. If you do, we'll have no alternative but to hand our weapons to the Serens so that they can fight their way out. And whatever they do to you will then have the sanction of our law and the treaty. It's your choice.'
The group around the gate faltered. Some stood back, though others began redoubling their efforts to close it, jeering and catcalling raucously as they did. The officer gave a resigned shrug and casually drew his sword. He nodded towards Arwain. ‘You surprise me,’ he said. ‘This man here wasn't struck down by some hero. He was hit by a stone, as were several passers-by.’ Carefully he took hold of the blade of his sword with his left hand and, holding the hilt forward, glanced around at Ryllans’ men as if looking for someone to whom he could hand it. ‘I think you should know, however, that stone throwing will be no defence against these men. They're less than pleased at being attacked for no reason, and many of them are Mantynnai; you know … Viernce.’ He paused briefly to allow the significance of the words to sink in. ‘So if you wish to lock yourselves in with them, armed and angry and with free rein to do whatever they have to to defend themselves, then feel free. It'll save me and my men a great deal of trouble.'
The crowd fell completely silent, and the group by the gate thinned still further, some of them now actively dragging others away.
Seeing the opportunity in the lull, the gate guards moved quietly forward, and opened a passage through the crowd. There was no resistance.
The officer sheathed his sword and motioned the platoon forward. Cautiously, Ryllans moved back on to his own horse. But the balance of mood within the crowd was almost palpable. A careless gesture now could tip them over into riot regardless of what individuals among them might think about tackling the Mantynnai.
'Eyes front,’ he ordered calmly and formally. ‘Walk.'
As he passed the officer standing in the gateway, he saluted him but did not speak. The officer returned the salute. The only sound to be heard was the leisurely clatter of the horses’ hooves on the stone roadway.
Then they were all through the gate. The palace guards closed in quietly behind them, blocking the gateway with their horses while the members of the platoon began quickly recovering their weapons from the gatehouse.
For the first time Ryllans was able to examine Arwain's injury. There was quite a lot of blood, but the wound appeared to be only superficial.
He dismounted. ‘A little water to bathe this?’ he asked the officer.
The man glanced back through the crowded gate and regretfully shook his head. ‘I'm sorry. You see the way it is,’ he replied. ‘You mustn't stay here. We've been lucky. The crowd's getting bigger and I haven't the men to defend you.’ He looked straight at Ryllans. ‘I don't want you taking swords to them despite what I said, and that's what you'll have to do. Whendreachi slaughtered by Serens, however justifiably, will tear the city apart, and bring the Bethlarii down on us like wolves. Please go now, there are good streams not far along the road.'
'I understand,’ Ryllans replied. And to give truth to the officer's words, the noise of the crowd began to grow
