Paul Kearney - Corvus

“It would seem our friends in the League have used the winter months to some advantage. They have taken heart, and rebuilt an army of sorts. That army is even now marching to the relief of Machran.”

The men he faced said nothing, but stared at him. There was no speculation; there were no questions. They had been at their trade too long for that. Corvus smiled at them, his white face shining like a bone.

“It will be here in the morning.”

Now they did stir. Frowning, Rictus spoke up. “How many?”

“Ardashir reckons on some seven thousand, all spears.”

“The defenders will sally out, when they get wind of this,” Demetrius grunted. “Even if they’re half-dead with hunger, they will come out.”

“Yes, they will,” Corvus said. “And therein lies our hope.” He leaned over the map table. Once, it had been covered with maps of the entire eastern Harukush, with cities dotted over it like cherries, blobs of red wax with ancient names. Now there was one large sheet of paper, the corners held down with empty winecups, and drawn across it were the outlines of Machran’s walls.

It has all come down to this, Rictus thought, looking down on the map. One lone city, and tomorrow: one single day. Like the point of a spearhead.

Corvus met his eyes, and grinned. He seemed to be thrumming with barely suppressed energy; there was almost a gaiety about him. Always, he seemed happiest when on the cusp of great events, be they good or bad.

“Take a look at our lines, gentlemen. We’re spread thin, to contain the city. That job is done. After tomorrow it will not matter any more, one way or the other. So I intend to consolidate the army once more, but only to make a fresh division of it.”

They raised their heads and looked at him, puzzled. His hand skittered over the map.

“Druze, you will abandon your camp on the Mithos, and bring your command back here, to the main body. Teresian, you will take your morai south, to join with Demetrius. Ardashir will concentrate the Companions on you as well. Rictus, you will take your Dogsheads -” he raised his head. “How many have you trained up now?”

“Six hundred.”

Demetrius’s face darkened. “That’s why Teresian and I have understrength morai – we’ve been leaking our best men to Rictus and Fornyx for weeks. Every bastard wants to get himself one of those red cloaks.”

“I want the Dogsheads opposite the South Prime Gate,” Corvus said, cutting short any further exchange. “When Karnos sallies out, it will be from there, to meet up with the army marching north. Rictus, you will meet him, and drive him back into the city. That is your job. Demetrius, Teresian, you will each detach a full mora to Rictus’s command.”

Both marshals straightened at that. “Corvus,” Teresian began.

Corvus held up a hand. “We do not vote on these things, brother. Those are my orders.” He turned to Druze.

“You, my friend, will also detach a thousand of your Igranians to help Rictus. You will then take command of the reminder, plus the other two morai we have here in this camp, and you will work with Parmenios and his machines.”

Druze looked thoughtfully at the little man who was Corvus’s secretary, now clad in a linen cuirass reinforced with bronze scales. It was ill-fitting, made for a taller man. But Druze only nodded. “I am with child to finally see these things you’ve made in action, Parmenios. Will you join me on the wall?”

Parmenios met Druze’s black eyes. “I will be supervising the advance of my command from the rear. I am not a soldier.”

“Well, we’re agreed on something then,” Druze said, and winked at him.

“I will be with Demetrius and Teresian and the Companions, south of Rictus’s positions,” Corvus said. “I will meet the relief army and defeat it, and then turn around and help Rictus’s command force an entry to the city.” He watched the men about the table. They were all staring at the outline of Machran on the map as though picturing to themselves the blood and chaos of the morrow.

“If you have questions, brothers, I’ll listen to them.”

“Not a question, but a fact,” Fornyx said. He stared at Corvus with undisguised hostility. “If you are defeated by the relief army, then Rictus’s command will be utterly destroyed – it cannot retreat.”

“I’d best not be defeated then,” Corvus said.

That night the army abandoned its camps to the west and north of the city, the men leaving their tents standing and the campfires burning behind them. They marched in quiet columns through the darkness, following the lines of the stockades that ringed the city. They carried only the arms and armour they would be needing in the morning, skins of water, a few dry flatbreads to gnaw on before the sun came up.

The position of the army and Corvus’s plans for it had been disseminated to all centurions, and it filtered down to the men in the long files in whispers as they marched. Slowly, the knowledge seeped through the army that this was the end. In the morning they would either take Machran, or they would face utter defeat. But one way or another the long siege would be over.

“The rumours are true, then?” Kassia demanded. She clasped her hands together, knuckles as white as her face.

“They are true.” Karnos kissed her. “Parnon must have the oratory of Gestrakos. A boy from his column made it through the lines yesterday. The League army will be before the walls in a few hours. When the sun comes up, we will open the gates and go out to meet it. Corvus will be caught between us like a nut for cracking.”

The light in her eyes faded. “You’re going out with them? I thought Kassander -”

“I will be with those men, Kassia. I would have it no other way.”

She leaned against him and buried her head in his chest. “There is no need for it – what is one more man?”

“I have been hiding in a box-chair for weeks now, afraid to walk the streets of my own city, Karnos, the Speaker of Machran. But I am also a citizen of this place. I am entitled to carry a spear in its defence.”

Kassander appeared in the doorway. “Karnos!” he stopped short at the sight of his sister in Karnos’s arms.

“Kassia, for God’s sake leave him alone – you can kiss him all you want after you’re married. Karnos, we must go. The morai are assembling down at South Prime.”

“You go on, Kassander. I have one or two things to clear up here.”

“Well, make it quick – it’s two hours until sunrise.” He disappeared from the doorway, and was back again two seconds later. He clanked into the room, already in full armour with his helm in the crook of his arm. He bent over Kassia and kissed her on her forehead. “You be safe, sister.”

“Look after him for me, Kassander.”

Kassander snorted. “He’s big and ugly enough to do that for himself. Karnos, hurry!” He was gone again.

“You might have wished your brother well too, you know,” Karnos said with a smile.

“He knows me, and all that I wish him, Karnos.”

“Come with me.” He took her by the hand. “I want your help with something.”

The long room, with the cabinet of Framnos at one end. Every lamp in the house had been lit, and the household were all up and about though it was still the middle of the night. Polio was there, and all the household slaves. In a corner Rian stood with Ona at her side, and by them was Philemos. He wore a soldier’s cuirass.

The cabinet door was open, and the Curse of God that had belonged to Katullos stood within like some icon of shadow. Karnos lifted it from its place and held it out to Kassia.

“Help me put it on.”

She was reluctant to touch it, but as he settled it over his shoulders, she clicked shut the black clasps that held the halves of it together, and pulled down the wings that settled snug into place over his collarbones.