Raymond Feist - A Crown Imperilled

His eyes returned once again to the old keep on top of the hill overlooking the road. He had conducted a quick inspection of their defences a week earlier when he had first arrived. Now he wondered if he had been overly hasty.

‘Find Bolton,’ Martin said softly to his brother.

Captain Bolton appeared at a run behind Brendan less than five minutes later. He was a slender young man, the same age as Martin. He had been left in charge of the city’s defences by the Duke of Yabon, and until now, his only practical experience had been overseeing a squad of the Earl of LaMut’s personal guards, of which his uncle was commander. To the brothers’ surprise, he had turned out to be a willing worker and a quick study; his arrogant manner as defender of the city had been a mask to hide his uncertainty. But once Martin had defined his duties, Bolton had thrown himself into whatever task had been given him. Even Brendan had come to like him despite the fact they were both smitten by the mayor’s daughter, Lily.

Martin said to him, ‘What I need to know is if there is any sort of sally port or secret exit from that keep.’

Bolton said, ‘I don’t know, but I’ll find out.’

Martin nodded and Bolton ran off towards the stable nearest the gate.

Brendan smiled at his retreating back. ‘He’s still eager.’

‘He’s just like a lot of men,’ said Martin. ‘A total waste until you give them something meaningful to do, then you see the man’s true measure.’

‘What are you thinking?’ Brendan asked with a twitch of his head in the general direction of the keep.

‘If that Keshian commander can get control of that ridge up there,’ he pointed to the crest of the road and the clearings on either side, ‘he can erect those trebuchets and just pound this wall until it’s rubble. Then a single charge down the hill and he has this city.’

‘So you want to hit him in the arse?’ said Brendan, but his expression was serious.

‘If I can get a big enough company behind him, yes; but he’ll have pickets stationed a quarter of a mile out on either flank. If there’s a tunnel or an old escape route, or a sally port with a road downhill …’ He shrugged. ‘It’s worth a look.’

‘Yes it is.’

Martin motioned for the gates to be closed and said, ‘If I was that Keshian commander, I’d be sending scouts south of the pass road to seek out game trails and old farmers wagon paths, so I can infiltrate as many men as possible south of here without being seen.’

‘Should we send a patrol towards Natal?’

‘The Free City Rangers should be able to annoy the Keshians and prevent them moving too far south, so we can guess where they’ll pop up if they do infiltrate.’

Brendan said, ‘I’m glad it’s you having to puzzle all this out, brother. I’m a bit out of my depth.’

‘You’d do fine, I suspect,’ Martin said with a tired smile. Then he stared at the closed gates as if he could somehow will his sight through them, over the mountains and to the Keshian camp. ‘It’s just the waiting that tires me out.’

‘And a lack of sleep.’ With the evil grin of a younger brother Brendan said, ‘Besides being up all hours getting our defences in place, Bethany-’

Before he could finish, Martin raised a single finger before his brother’s nose. ‘Don’t!’

Stepping back, Brendan put his hands up, palms out, in a supplicating gesture. ‘I was only going to say that you spend a great deal of time talking to her after supper.’

Martin fixed his younger brother with an expression that meant he found his brother’s claim to be dubious, but he let it go. ‘She’s a wonder,’ he said in obvious admiration. ‘She’s done amazing things with the women and children in this town: about two-thirds of the women and almost all the children are leaving tomorrow for the north, to seek shelter in Zun. The women who are staying behind will cook, wash clothing, and care for the wounded.’

‘They will no doubt make good account of themselves if the Keshians do get over that wall.’

Martin nodded. ‘Kesh is never gentle with those they conquer. Rape and slavery is the best to hope for beyond a quick death.’

Both young men had read the histories and accounts of wars in the past. No nation could claim virtue in the throes of struggle; the Kingdom had been as brutal as anyone during the conquest of their neighbours as they extended their borders in ages past, but those had been wars of expansion and those who had been conquered were now considered as citizens as much as the first raiders who left the island Kingdom of Rillanon.

Kesh’s wars were of subjugation. Only ‘Truebloods’ were granted full citizenship. Those who served the Empire and had lived around the massive lake known the Overn Deep for generations were counted as lesser citizens, though some had risen to high office. Everyone else was regarded as a subject. Even colonists who had moved to distant lands, like the Far Coast and Natal — the ancient province of Bosania — and the Island of Queg, became lesser subjects. And as a result, Kesh’s Legionaries and Dog Soldiers had been putting down rebellions for centuries.

The results were uniform. When Kesh conquered, she occupied: indigenous people were driven out, killed or enslaved.

It was that knowledge that kept Martin from feeling like a total failure. He had abandoned his family’s castle, but had he remained he would be dead, or perhaps an object of ransom. There would be no truce with Kesh. Their only hope was to withstand whatever assault came this way, and hold out against the return of the Duke of Yabon’s forces. When they arrived, he would lead his men of Crydee home and drive the Keshian trespassers from every mill, farm, mine, and fishing community within the Duchy.

Brendan saw his brother’s expression and said, ‘What?’

Letting out a long breath, Martin said, ‘Nothing. Everything. Just a lot of thoughts.’ He glanced around as if he might find one more task that needed his attention.

‘Go back to the mayor’s house and get some rest. Talk with Bethany now and get some sleep later.’

Martin let his shoulders slump as he relaxed. ‘I just-’

‘I know,’ said his brother putting his hand on Martin’s arm. ‘If anything needs to be done, I’ll do it.’ Then he grinned, and said, ‘Or I’ll send for you. Is that all right?’

‘Yes,’ said Martin. ‘I’ll never admit it to anyone else, but I couldn’t have pulled this together without your help, little brother.’

Brendan said, ‘I would be lost without your leadership, Martin. But I would give all of my inheritance to have Hal here.’

Martin nodded in earnest agreement. ‘I, too.’ Their brother had been groomed to rule, and was a far better leader than his two younger siblings. ‘He has a definite knack for this sort of thing.’

‘You’re not doing badly, honestly.’

‘I wonder what he’s up to right now?’

‘Probably trying to find a way to get home,’ answered Brendan. ‘Little chance there, I should think. Kesh probably has Roldem bottled up, or Roldem’s now allied with Kesh and Hal’s been arrested or is in hiding.’

‘You think like Father,’ said Martin. ‘I never gave a thought to what might be occurring in Roldem.’ A moment of sadness passed between them: they’d had little time to truly mourn the loss of their father.

Finally Martin broke the mood and said, ‘Come, we have work to do.’

‘Raiders!’

The warning echoed across the silent square behind the harbour gates and was repeated by every sentry along the wall. Martin was dressed and out of the door of his room in the mayor’s house before the alarm bell stopped. He was joined by Brendan as the two brothers nearly collided at the top of the stairs.