given to me if I did poorly? Was Sapphire's knife for me if it looked like I would disgrace my father?
I realized I was sitting there looking at the letter, doing nothing. Meran had moved away from the table, but not far. I stood and stepped outside and crossed to Kerral's tent. A few moments later Kerral had the letter and instructions to get it, the money and two of the men on horses. “Tell them to start ten miles south of Yuprit and head north-east. I don't know what passwords Sheo will use…”
“I do.”
I was stopped in my tracks for a second. I hadn't thought of it. Like several details large and small that hadn't come to mind at the right time. Sometimes I thought I was so clever, and sometimes I thought I was rubbish, every bit the useless pointless waster my father thought me. But I had men like Kerral around me who did think of the things I didn't. And I was glad.
“It's a lucky commander who has good men.”
“It's lucky men who have a good commander.”
Well. There really didn't seem anything else to say, so I bid him good night and went to bed.
34
Recruiting another patron's clients was… well, rude at best. A patron could prosecute for it but the result was at worst a fine to be paid to the injured party. It was something I had worried about it a little, but not much. It's the kind of thought that floats to the surface of your mind when you are done thinking about anything else. Of course, right now I couldn't pay a fine. Also, if the recruiting was noticed the patron could instruct his people to take control of the army or disband it… if he was willing to take the risk of it not happening; some commanders didn't give up their men willingly and there had been incidents in our history where such attempts had lead even to full blown civil war. That Sheo's force might be taken from him had worried me greatly and still did. My money would be wasted and I would be no better off. If that happened I could prosecute him, if I could show lawful cause to raise troops in the interests of the city from whatever men were available. After the fact it could all get sticky and complicated. The political after-effects of wars often were, as patrons fought it out for credit which enhanced their dignity and standing amongst their peers. If you needed money in a hurry and you had the reputation of a man who could get it, then people would loan to you. My name alone had let me raise several thousands. Of course, I had squandered that money, but that's not the point. There were times when I still desperately wanted a drink…
Now was one of them. It was a hot day on the road. The pace was grueling and I was thirsty. My canteen was out of water and I didn't feel like waiting, so I passed command to Kerral and walked my horse back toward the baggage train. No hurry going this way, the army was yomping past me in the other direction. Six hundred men at five abreast made a column of one hundred and twenty men. Not that I was counting obsessively, or anything, but you have to pass the time somehow when you are trying not to fret about things that seriously need fretting about. The cohort flashed by. Then a gap. Then the rearguard and a big gap before the lighter guard ahead of the first wagon. The wagons could not travel at the same pace as the army by a big margin. They fell behind and consequently had their own guard. By the time the fort was ready to be used and light was failing fast, the wagons began to arrive. There were lots of wagons. After them would be the equestes rearguard. I didn't need to go that far.
What I wanted was the third wagon down, basically a big barrel on wheels. The barrel contained water. Booze was available, watered wine and beer, but it was expensive. Not paid for by the commander but by whoever wanted to buy it. Free enterprise is rife and we support it by not making laws to stop it. Trade is good. Trade makes more money for everyone. If a man had a good idea he would go to his patron, or any patron if he didn't have one – and many commoners didn't – and explain the idea and ask for cash or material aid. Any patron would put money into what he thought was a good idea. A better plough made more money exclusively on the patron's lands before people started buying his ploughs or copying them. He got an advantage, the commoner made money, everyone with farmland gets more productive, there is more food available to eat and sell, it gets cheaper, everyone happy. These things aren't complicated. I have read of kingdoms who tax their population and then make things for them. Not us. You want something, make it yourself. The six classes paid tax to the council and that money was used for public works, yes; like the roadwardens. The patrons paid most but the patrons gained the most in safe trade, it was only fair. Sometimes tax farmers would be let loose in a region by arrangement with the ruler, domestic or foreign, but that was rare and only happened under certain circumstances.
My mind was still wandering aimlessly as I sat my horse by the side of the road and drank water and watched wagons go by when I saw a familiar face driving a wagon. I knew it would contain beer. I'd bought enough of it from him over the years.
On impulse I called out to him. Why not? “Rebo! You are a long way from home!”
To my surprise he saluted.
“Yes sir.” He looked uncomfortable and surprised in equal measure.
I turned my horse as he came closer and walked it alongside him.
“Making money?”
“Yes sir. A little, sir.”
Now I was puzzled. As I waited for him to say something, he kept glancing at me, looking more and more uncomfortable and it dawned on me that he didn't recognize me. He just saw a patron going to war.
“Well, good luck with that.”
“Thank you sir.” I turned the horse about and walked her further back along the line of wagons deeply thoughtful, and a little wistful.
Had a few days in the saddle changed me that much? Not possible, surely. I'd lost weight, yes. Quite a lot. I guess my face was thinner, I wouldn't know for sure. I shaved my face in the mornings but I have never been vain so I didn't pay a lot of attention to how I looked. I suddenly wondered what he had seen when I brought drink from him, chatted with friends and acquaintances in his bar, joked with him. A customer? A fat drunken fool of a patron's son? I decided I'd never know and stopped worrying about it. Whatever he had seen wasn't what he was seeing now.
I followed the wagons to their end. Behind in the distance there were drovers, even slower than the wagons. I didn't think I would bother to stop and have a chat with a sheepherder today.
35
At Neerthan, on the border, there is a road heading both north and east into Geduri territories. We took it. It was not a bad road, though somewhat narrower than the north road. We would not be slowed, but did have to narrow the breadth of our march so that we were more spread out. Fortunately the Geduri lands are as flat as a pancake and we could throw outriders as far out as we wanted to watch for potential threats.
Two hundred miles or less. The sun was sinking in the west and that day we would march for maybe an hour longer before beginning to construct a fort for the night. I would probably catch up to Sheo tomorrow or the next day and the units he commanded would be mine, under my cousin, under Orthand, but mine. How many men I had no idea. One cohort for sure. Maybe two. I hoped for four. A day or three later, if we advanced at once, we would meet the enemy. Tul had said it was planned to stop and run the army as a whole through maneuvers. Practice, in other words. I guessed that would happen. It's what I would do, raise a larger and more permanent fort and drill the army to be sure it was ready. If the enemy came to us, fair enough, but better we go to them. It depended on the temperament of Orthand. What kind of commander was he? Decisive, I knew that. I know everything about military history that can be acquired from a book but recent events were a blank page. I wasn't watching, wasn't paying attention. Quite honestly, I had been too busy having a good time. So, Orthand could just march headlong into the war zone. I had a sneaky suspicion that is what he would do, based on nothing at all. Or maybe I just knew that he wanted to get the war over before his clients were destroyed. With these thoughts in mind I headed up column to speak to my cousin, to ask him about Orthand's history.
