Unlike the previous invasion, on this occasion they knew nothing about the forces they opposed. Not where they were, not how many, not what those numbers were composed of. They only knew who led them, and where he had said they would be.
Clouds gathered above them on the road. The closer they marched to Harstathur, the more oppressive the atmosphere became. The humidity built irrepressibly and the clouds became an impenetrable smog. It looked as though this wretched, drowned winter might have one last storm left in it. Roper could not decide whether this would favour them or not.
Twenty leagues short of Harstathur, they managed to rendezvous with the final auxiliary legion. They had been separated by rivers swollen by melt-water but a few Skiritai had managed to cross and pass messages between the two forces. They converged at a ford that crossed the river Ouse. The Fair Island Legion were unarmed and unarmoured, still dressed in their labouring fatigues, but Roper was prepared for that and carried spare weapons and plate with the army. The Fair Islanders had been harried and battered by Bellamus’s forces and there were now no more than three and a half thousand of them, but they still took Roper’s forces beyond seventy thousand soldiers.
Every day they marched closer to the Altar and every day the Skiritai reported no sign of the Sutherners. They scoured every hill and valley surrounding the road and even made several long-distance forays in case the Sutherners intended to come down on them from afar during the night. Roper would not believe that the invitation to Harstathur was a genuine one until the seventh day after they left the Hindrunn. Finally, the Skiritai outriders were within range of the Altar and returned with the news that there, indeed, was where the Sutherners waited for them.
The final night, they stopped just two leagues short of Harstathur, already on the climb up to the plateau. The air felt heavier than ever and there was a definite tingle of electricity around them. “This will break soon,” said Gray, squinting into the ash heavens. “Tomorrow will be a horror.”
“We’ll be right in the thick of the action on top of Harstathur,” said Roper. “We’ll get the thunder and the lightning up close.”
Tekoa approached the pair of them, riding his grey mare. “I have something to show you two.”
“How far?”
“Two hundred yards that way,” said Tekoa, casting his hand towards the north.
“I’ll leave Zephyr,” said Roper. He and Gray walked together behind Tekoa’s mare, crossing to the edge of the track and heading into the close-cropped grass next to it. Roper studied the grass as they walked, frowning to himself while Gray and Tekoa talked about the march. The first observed that he had blisters for the first time in years; the second that Gray should have ridden, rather than walked.
“Here,” said Tekoa, a moment later. “Look at this.” He had led them to a field where the grass was regularly intersected by long bare strips of naked earth. They looked like pathways, where the movement of thousands of men had worn through the grass to the mud below. There were boot prints visible in the rain-softened paths, which had obviously been formed by infantry of some sort. “The Rangers have been finding these marks all over the surrounding land. They are strange.”
“Very strange,” agreed Roper. He bent to examine one of the paths and the grass that lined it. There was a gap of around six feet between each strip in which the grass had survived. “Cavalry,” he said quietly.
“Boot prints,” said Tekoa, who had not bothered to dismount. “Not hoof prints.”
“Cavalry,” said Roper again. “This grass has been cropped by horses.”
“Where’s the dung?” said Tekoa impatiently. “Where are the hoof prints?”
“Removed,” said Roper. “This pattern is Bellamus trying to hide how much cavalry he has. The horses graze along these paths so that they do not leave hoof prints elsewhere, then the infantry march the path afterwards to cover up the tracks. Any dung is cleared away. Look at the grass; the shredded tips are not yet white. They’re fresh. This field has been grazed by a large number of horses but they have gone to considerable trouble to hide that from us. So he has a lot of cavalry, but doesn’t want us to know.”
Gray inspected the grass. “You’re right; it has been grazed.”
“Your mind is working quickly, Lord Roper,” said Tekoa suspiciously.
“No,” said Roper. “I just understand my enemy. Remember how we removed our dead after raiding their supplies? We’ve inspired him to try something similar; Bellamus would have understood what we did. I’ve been waiting for something like this. He’s got cavalry and doesn’t want us to know about it, which means he has plans for it.”
“What plans?” mused Gray.
“On Harstathur? Hard to say. He surely can’t be intending to flank us; that detour around the plateau would be twenty leagues. All the same, Tekoa, have your men scout far this evening. I don’t want to be fighting tomorrow and find that a horde of cavalry has suddenly appeared behind us.”
Tekoa rode to give the orders, and Roper and Gray headed off to find a
