Hoke turned his horse, walking the animal slowly through the main body of the combined forces, working toward the rear. He found Lady Anna quickly enough, settled comfortably under a stand of trees, chatting with a handful of peasants collected along the road. She looked up as Hoke approached.
"The Arimanian force has been here for many days," Anna said as Hoke dismounted. "According to the villagers the castle has been under frequent attack all summer, but every assault has been repelled. Lord Ivran conducts night raids, and does well by them, it seems. He destroys his attacker's siege engines, and twice his men have hidden in the countryside until dark, then attacked their enemies as they slept." She stood up, straightening her skirts.
"About three weeks ago the invaders were driven off completely and the people returned to their villages. This week the soldiers returned once more. From what I am told, they have not many men."
"They have no friends, either; they must take their supplies by force and watch their backs all the time," Hoke said, looking to the villagers, peasants all. He saw a worried look in the eyes of some, though he might have expected fear. Their courage came not from themselves, though, Hoke thought, so much as from faith in Jurdef Ivran, their king.
"No, no friends, but such men never do."
"Soon there will be an end to it." Hoke turned, looking back over the army gathered all around them. "And today, I think, we will truly begin."
He started to go and Anna touched his arm. "Thank you," she said, though she'd said so already, several times. Hoke smiled as he shuffled his weight off the stiff leg. "I know," he said. He returned himself to his saddle, then rode back through the camp to join the others.
From the hill's crest, he could see the cultivated fields, thick stands of woods and many small villages that spread for miles around the city's walls. Lord Ivran's castle stood on its own small hillock near the city's southern edge, high stone walls basking in the morning sun, the largest castle north of Kamrit itself. Rich lands, these, ripe with summer crops, though Lencia's fields were unattended this day. Even at this distance Hoke could see the signs of recent neglect, the absence of movement, even on the roads. Lencia had been under siege for too long.
He turned to the other men who waited atop their mounts at the edge of the trees, Bennor of Vardale, Dorree of Jasnok, Burke of Thorun, and two others who were known only by their chosen names, Grish, the older of the two, and Marrn, court sorcerers to Dorree and Bennor. Their presence, like that of their lords, was nothing less than the best of fortune. Hoke had fully expected interest, perhaps even generosity, from the lord kings of the great northern fiefs, but the depth of their enthusiasm had surprised him. Lady Anna, of course, deserved a share in the credit. Spurred by her impassioned pleas and testimony, the lords had rallied about Hoke not only in spirit but in deed. Dorree, great lord of Jasnok, had set the tone. Unwilling to leave his lands unprotected, and with skirmishes more than plentiful everywhere in the countryside, he had left most of his regular army and commanders in place, but he had supplied Hoke first with himself and then his entire personal guard, nearly one hundred of his most elite troops. They had traveled north together, where Lord Bennor had received them well and acted in kind. Finally, Burke of Thorun had agreed to join them, offering a major compliment of his best troops as well.
The remainder of their journey through Thorun north of Golemesk had been a quiet one. Men eager for righteous battle found little resistance along the way, a few handfuls of Ferris' troops, most of them too long away from the control of their liege to face such odds. The great lords took turns, rallying their troops to fight these small battles, as eager to lead as their men were to follow. Not one among their newly allied forces had been lost in those skirmishes. Nearly five hundred strong now, they were more than ready for a good fight.
"Most of the siege troops are gathered over there, east of the castle," Lord Dorree said, pointing a gloved hand in that direction. Smoke from morning fires could be seen rising among the trees, many fires. "Our scouts say they may number two to three hundred men, though none of them are fresh."
"A tired, token force," Hoke told the great lords. "And an unwelcome one. We will ask them to go."
"I'll gladly give the order," Lord Burke declared. "My men are waiting."
Hoke watched Bennor nod agreement. He looked away again to the encamped Arimanian troops in the distance. "They are preparing to attack, I believe. Probably this afternoon. We might make our way down to that cover, this side of the woods there below us. If we move now and approach from the north we may be able to keep ourselves a secret. When those troops attempt to move against the castle, we could strike from behind."
Hoke paused for the reaction—nods all around.
"I would ask our wizards to make sure there is no magic protecting the camp. And perhaps they can help shield us against enemy eyes when we move?"
"We will do all that is possible," Grish said, and Marrn quickly agreed.
"Anna is right," Lord Dorree said, chuckling. "Kelren never should have let you retire."
"It would seem he has not," Hoke said wryly. He turned with the others to prepare for war.
Just after noon, with the sun well overhead, the forces of Ariman again attacked the castle of King Ivran, an assault led by men-at-arms and a small cavalry backed by three groups of archers and what remained of their catapults. As the main force drew nearer the castle's outer walls, they were met by return fire, a fierce barrage of armor-piercing arrows that filled the air and left several wounded and a few dead. Most, however, took cover beneath their shields and continued slowly forward.
The entire action was unremarkable, a scene that had been repeated many times, Hoke decided, watching the siege forces go about their business in an almost automatic fashion. There was no sense of excitement, only a steady determination to try once again, to gain a position near the walls so the battering rams could do real damage, so the invaders could get inside: mercenaries, the bulk of them, Hoke realized. True knights and men-at-arms, or even militia forces, would not return to fight on so methodically for weeks and against such unattractive odds. These men were being paid to stay, and likely, paid well. Victory was not apparently a requirement. They could afford to wait for Lord Ferris to send a larger force or finally call off the attacks. They had everything to gain, and only a few of each other to lose.
Though that was about to change.
Hoke watched as the great lords gave the commands, sending their foot soldiers and cavalry charging from cover to pound the attackers from the rear. Archers found their targets easily, ready clumps of men with their eyes and shields facing the other way. The forces of Ariman began to turn in circles as arrows fell on them from two directions. They broke ranks just after that, as the severity of the situation quickly became clear to even the slowest and most determined among them.
Hoke left the hill and descended into the battle below. He rode straight ahead amidst the armies of Jasnok, Thorun, and Vardale, heart pounding, blood racing. He had not ridden to war in more than a decade—the fatigue that came with age and the thought of finding himself dismounted, his leg stiff and useless beneath him, had forbidden the very idea—but now, with the rush of battle all around him and the cries of men prepared to fight and die ringing in his ears, he had no choice. He could not sit idly and watch, could not deny himself this chance.
He advanced to join the first ranks of cavalry as they reached the enemy and was quick to ride among them, then to pick out another rider, striking the man in the chest with a measured swing of his battle-ax. But the ax caught in the other man's armor and would not pull free. Hoke let it go at the risk of being pulled to the ground as the other man fell. He drew his broadsword and pushed forward again, clashing against the steel of a second rider, fending two blows, then delivering a decisive thrust.
He watched this second soldier die and was struck by the irony, by how strange it was to ride against these men, to spill the blood of those who wore the crest of Kamrit—Andarys' crest, though it had been altered slightly, some of the colors painted over, the whites at the center done in gold and black, the "A" already replaced with an "F."
Fresh cries of another charge rang out from somewhere far ahead. Hoke looked up to find the battle being joined by riders from the castle, followed by several hundred foot soldiers. All around him now, the armies of the great fiefs were slaying the siege forces. Outnumbered and out-willed, the bodies of the mercenaries began to litter the ground. As the castle guard reached them, the remaining attackers tried desperately to flee but found no route for their escape.
Lord Ivran's legions swept onto the battlefield, and in minutes the last of Ariman's attacking forces had surrendered or been cut down. The blood of their enemies flowed at the feet of the defenders of Lencia.
"I had no idea Frost was involved in all of this," the great lord Jurdef Ivran exclaimed, breaking bread at the head of the table and tightening the many wrinkles around his dark eyes with his stare. "Or that the rumors about Grand Chamberlain Ferris were smaller than the truth about him."
"Then you agree he must be stopped," Hoke said.
"Of course! His attacks will resume on all of us in time. But the very thought of that brazen little wench Madia as queen—well, to me, this lacks any appeal."
"You know her reputation, but you do not know her," Hoke said, ready for this. All three of the other great Lords had already expressed a similar concern, and he had expected this from Jurdef as well. "She is no longer the same girl. Her journey from Kamrit has had a great effect on her, as did her long stay with me, I can assure you."
"Oh, well, of course!" Lord Ivran snorted, looking to the other lords around the table. "I failed to consider the certain effect a stay with the great Hoke would have on the girl. Surely, every woman you have known is fit to rule this realm!" Ivran's muffled laughter was joined by the others at the table. Hoke waited for the noise to die down, then he looked at Lord Ivran with a steady, crucial eye. "Most," he said.
Laughter broke out at this. Hoke waited again, watching faces, especially that of his host. Jurdef was the greatest of the northern lords and would hold sway over many, both here and in Ariman. His support was necessary, Hoke thought, there was no question.
"I ask all of you to consider carefully the task before us," Hoke began again. "I ask that you ride with me to Kamrit to rally the people of Ariman and take back the throne from the creature that has claimed it. We must save the realm; we must save ourselves.
"As to who will come to rule in Ferris' place, that is a matter to be decided afterward, with the rightful heir to that throne present to properly defend herself, and the council of lords assembled. All shall have their say when the time comes."
Silence fell about the room as Lord Ivran slowly rose and moved away from the table. He stood with his back to the others, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully as he looked out through the arches of the hall's main window. Finally Jurdef took a deep breath and turned. "I have your word on all of this?"
Hoke bowed his head. "You do."
"Will two hundred men be enough? That is all I feel I can spare."
Hoke let a smile find his lips. He snatched his flagon from the table, then waited while Jurdef came to the table again and took up his. Hoke stood up with all the others, and they lifted their cups. "Yes, my lord, enough indeed," he said, and joined in a toast.