Demon Knight

was what he had done when the problem had been winning agreement between the five major states. Now the problem was different. The prince could command obedience.

The second most obvious answer began, 'I certainly would not announce my plans with half the population taking notes.' But that would be lese-majeste and disaster.

Toby stepped forward, clear of the crowd. 'Your Highness, we know that the traitor is mustering armies and moving them south. We assume, and must assume, that he plans to bring them over the Alps, but we do not yet know which pass or passes he will choose. Roughly, he can come by the Brenner Pass, which will lead him through Trent and Verona and pose an immediate threat to Venice.' Let the spies test their memories on this — there was nothing in it that Nevil did not know already. 'He may come by one of the central passes, such as the St. Gotthard, but the established route uses boats to traverse Lake Como and is not practicable for a great army. The western passes—'

'I have seen the maps, Constable. I asked what you would do.'

Sweat! This was either his chance to win the post he craved or some horrible trap, and the fact that he had been given no warning made the trap explanation the more likely. He knew exactly what he would do if he were comandante. He was not going to reveal it here. He bowed again. 'I crave Your Highness's pardon. In brief, I would prepare to relieve either Milan or Venice. The Fiend must protect his supply lines, or we can starve his army by wasting the country around him. He dare not leave Milan and Venice as threats in his rear. He might risk bypassing one of them, but never both. He must lay siege to one or the other, and that will be our chance to bring him to battle.'

The prince rubbed his wispy mustache with a knuckle. 'I did not ask for a lecture on the traitor's problems, messer. I asked for answers to mine. What will you do now—today and days following — if I reappoint you comandante?'

'Your Highness, the Fiend undoubtedly has spies in this hall.'

'You refuse to answer my question?'

Sweat, sweat, sweat! 'Signore… I would order the states to put their armies on twenty-four hours' notice to march. I would provision a rallying point at a suitable location.' It would be at Piacenza, of course, north of the Apennines. All roads led to Piacenza, and Nevil must cross the Po there.

The hall was very quiet.

'You would do no more than that?' the boy demanded incredulously. 'How long will it take King Fredrico's troops to march from Naples to this camp you have prepared for them, 'north of the Apennines?''

'About a month, Your Highness.'

'So you will allow the Fiend a clear month to lay waste my father's dominions! To loot and ravage unhindered. You hope that Milan or Venice can hold out against a siege for a month before you even muster your army to come to their aid?'

Of course not! It would take Nevil longer to bring his full strength over the Alps, so the other armies could be there to meet him. Meanwhile—

'We have heard you, messer,' the prince said, silencing him with a wave of his fingers. 'We have listened to youth. Now let us hear what age and experience can tell us. Monseigneur D'Anjou?'

Toby fell back a few steps and almost knocked over whoever was behind him, conscious of a chilling certainty that this charade had been planned in advance down to the last detail. In his darkest moments, he had feared that the haggard old French aristocrat now hobbling forward might be appointed suzerain. Making him comandante would be even worse.

D'Anjou had not been taken by surprise. He bowed low and spoke in French, but flatly, as if by rote. 'Most Exalted Highness, there are only four or five passes by which the traitor Nevil can reasonably enter Italy. Another three or four are possible but unlikely. If you honor me with supreme command of our glorious Khan's armies in Italy, then of course I shall at once prepare to contest those passes. Why should we let him in without a fight? — to loot and ravage unhindered, as you so aptly put it a moment ago. I should also move all cavalry available to the plains of the Po, so that we may use their mobility to concentrate them against the Invader when he comes. I should order the Neapolitan and Roman forces to begin advancing north at once.' The Chevalier bowed again. Then he flashed a predatory smile across at Toby, who had managed to catch only the gist of the speech.

He had made out enough to know that it was rubbish. When Nevil came, his army would be huge. He would bring it over several passes at the same time, so to contest its passage would be a criminal waste of men, serving no real purpose. To put all the Khan's forces in the field now, before there was even a threat, would produce problems in provisioning so bad that the plains of the Po might be looted and ravaged by their own defenders before the war even reached them. And the talk of cavalry just meant that D'Anjou had no faith in, or understanding of, infantry. He still thought a charge of mounted knights could settle anything.

The prince smiled approvingly — better an incompetent aristocrat, rightful King of France, than a peasant bastard from the barbarian ends of the world, however lucky the kid might have been last year.

'Chevalier, you are a man of courage and vision.' He raised his head to scan the spectators. 'Know you all that by virtue of the power invested in me by my beloved and puissant father, His Illustrious Majesty Ozberg Khan, I hereby appoint and name Louis, Duke of Anjou, supreme commander of all military forces in our father's dominions in Italy and charge him to take all necessary measures to repel the traitor Nevil. We likewise order all the said forces to obey his commands and all states and powers and dominions to cooperate with him in every way.'

A moment's silence was followed by a ragged cheer.

The prince seated himself on the throne. The Chevalier advanced and knelt, obviously to perform the ceremony of obeisance. Toby's stomach churned. Disregarding all rules of protocol and courtesy to princes, he spun around and shoved his way through the crowd, heading for the door.

Since joining the Don Ramon Company, D'Anjou had never lost a battle. In the eleven years before that, he had never won one.

CHAPTER FOUR

In the field where the Company's mounts were picketed, Hamish was already saddling up Eachan, intent on heading back to Florence to locate Lisa. Toby fetched Smeorach and joined him. He received a quizzical glance.

'Running away? Not like you.'

Toby hauled on Smeorach's girth a little harder than necessary. 'Nothing more for me to do here.'

'Stand still, lummox!' That remark was addressed to Eachan. 'How can Sartaq expect D'Anjou to defend anything more valuable than a wheelbarrow?'

'Possibly because he's a degenerate, pampered, royal moron.'

About to mount, Hamish paused and frowned as he did when he had a juicy puzzle to gnaw on. 'Even so, there's something wrong, you know? D'Anjou's only qualification for anything is his royal blood. Militarily he's laughable. Logically, he should have been appointed suzerain and told to leave the fighting to you. That would have worked. There's something going on I can't see.'

Toby snorted. 'It's called stupidity. It's the national pastime.'

'No. It's as if… You don't suppose Sartaq's actually working for the Fiend, do you?'

The thought was tempting. 'It would explain a lot, wouldn't it? But they whipped him into the sanctuary smartly when he arrived. The spirit would have blown a bugle if he was a traitor. Now let's get out of here before our esteemed captain-general finds me.'

The don would be incensed that his deputy had been insulted, appalled at the thought of serving under a commander so incompetent, and yet hopelessly trapped by his loyalty to the Khan and his conviction that aristocrats were invariably superior beings. Conflicts enough to unhinge the sanest of men would drive him into a gibbering frenzy. Let somebody else handle him this time.

'Do you feel,' Hamish asked, as they rode off along the road, 'that this conclave has achieved anything at all?'

Toby thought for a moment. There had to be some use in anything. 'Yes. I think future historians will use it to date the fall of Italy.'