The Dog of the North (50 page)

‘We have escaliers,’ said Beauceron.

‘So we have. But we still need to climb them, and put men in the city. It is a last resort.’

Brissio looked at them through squinting eyes. ‘If ladders are the only way to take the city, we will do so. On this occasion Beauceron is right, although the expedient becomes necessary
only through his negligence.’

‘I will be at the head of the assault, my lord,’ said Beauceron. ‘No doubt you will wish to hearten your own troops in the same way.’

Brissio stood abruptly from his seat. ‘If you can show me how my cavalry may ride up the siege ladders, I will gladly take your counsel. Otherwise, a commander has more important
duties.’

‘As you wish, my lord. I merely thought to pre-empt any potential innuendoes regarding your appetite for combat. Naturally you will feel that such whispers are not worth the effort of
discountenancing.’

Brissio’s hand dropped to his sword hilt. ‘You speak with dangerous latitude to the man who will be your King. Once the city is taken I will ensure you show me the respect due to a
prince.’

‘On another matter, my lord,’ said Beauceron with a shrug. ‘It would be better if I were not present when Oricien arrives this afternoon. I will wait in my tent.’

A crafty smile spread across Brissio’s face. ‘I assume that you do not wish Oricien to recognize you and reveal your identity. This is foolish vanity.’

‘I assure you, my lord, that the sight of me will only stiffen Oricien’s resolve. If he is coming to discuss the terms of his surrender my presence will not help.’

‘He is right, my lord,’ said Virnesto.

Brissio grunted with ill-grace.

‘You are both old women, afraid to fight; but if this is your counsel, so be it.’

3

The mid-afternoon bell rang in Croad as Lord Oricien rode out from the River Gate on a white strider. Beauceron, who was concealed in an ante-room next to Brissio’s
reception chamber, was surprised to see that he came alone. He could not accuse the Lord of Croad of lacking courage.

Oricien was preceded by the clatter of his boots on the wooden stairs. Beauceron slid aside the small grille allowing him sight of the reception room. It would be interesting to assess
Oricien’s demeanour, and to see how Prince Brissio conducted himself.

Oricien stepped into the room and bowed to the Prince. He was unarmoured, garbed only in a black cape, a white shirt and black breeches, with a sigil at his breast. At his side hung his
rapier.

‘I am Lord Oricien,’ he said in a level voice.

Beauceron noted the easy assurance of his address. His fair hair had receded to a widow’s peak and his cheekbones were more apparent than he had remembered, but the main change in the
intervening years was a self-possession he had never previously commanded.

‘You are welcome. I am Prince Brissio; Captain-General Virnesto commands my infantry; these are my aides Isello and Capedralce. Please be seated. Will you take refreshment?’

Oricien gave an infinitesimal nod.

‘We have not yet dined. Perhaps you will join us for dinner,’ said Brissio in a hearty voice.

Oricien held up a hand. ‘I thank you, but no. I will eat nothing which is not available to my soldiers – unless you wish to extend your invitation to my entire fighting force, in
which case I accept with pleasure.’

‘This will not be possible,’ said Virnesto. ‘Although if you were to invite our army to sup in Croad, we might share a banquet of good fellowship.’

Oricien permitted himself a wintry smile. ‘I doubt that our hospitality would be to your suiting. We will each keep to our own provisions and territories, which is perhaps for the
best.’

‘As you will,’ said Brissio. ‘Let us at least sit while we discuss our business. I take it you are familiar with these surroundings.’

Oricien raised his eyebrows. ‘The Voyne falls under my rule, but The Patient Suitor is a low tavern: I have never set foot in it until today.’

‘Be that as it may,’ said Brissio. ‘You requested an audience with me, and I am happy to oblige. Do you care to state your business?’

Oricien crossed his legs. ‘The presence of the northern army is naturally inconvenient to me. A relief force is on its way, and we would all benefit were you to depart before its arrival.
The destruction of your siege engines makes it unlikely you can take the city by force.’

Virnesto gave a soft chuckle. Brissio was nonplussed. ‘My Lord Oricien, the course is impractical. We have sailed south with the express intention of capturing the city. We do not fear the
forces of Glount, and you have admitted that your food supplies are low. We will not depart until we have the keys to the city.’

Oricien nodded as if to himself. ‘I suspected you would say as much. You are the dupes of one “Beauceron” who pursues a scheme of his own. There will be no benefit to you in
taking a city you cannot hold.’

‘Allow us to be the judge of our own good,’ said Virnesto. ‘We have come for the city, and we shall have it. All that remains is to discuss the terms of your
surrender.’

‘Name them,’ said Oricien. He looked Brissio directly in the eye.

Virnesto said: ‘If you yield up the city, no harm will come to the inhabitants. The soldiers will be suffered to march out bearing arms, on their parole not to return for a year and a
day.’

‘And if I do not?’

‘The normal rules of plunder will apply. Our soldiers will sack the city: the men will be killed, and the women violated. This is not pretty, but it is war. You may act to spare
them.’

Oricien sipped at his tisane. ‘You must take the city before you can make good your threats. Our walls are strong and, as I noted, you no longer have trebuchets.’

Virnesto stood up and walked to the window overlooking the bridge. ‘Trebuchets do not take cities; hunger does.’

An assault on our walls, starving defenders or no, can only cost lives you would rather preserve.’

‘You cannot beat us in the field,’ said Virnesto. ‘Your only hope is that we leave, either through hunger, disease, or defeat. We are supplied by boat from Hengis Port and
health in the camp is excellent. We can only be defeated in battle by a large and well-led relief army. Do you concur?’

After a pause Oricien nodded. ‘Essentially.’

‘If your relief does not arrive, Croad must fall.’

Oricien said nothing.

‘Your food is running out,’ continued Virnesto. ‘Are you eating the cats yet? The day cannot be far away. Let me make this offer: you need not surrender today, but if your
relief army has not arrived in a week, your doom is sealed. You may surrender with honour at that point, and march out under the rules of safe-conduct.’

‘Alternatively,’ said Prince Brissio, ‘you may bring out your army tomorrow and we shall fight.’

Both Virnesto and Oricien looked at the Prince with ill-concealed contempt.

‘Thinking of realistic outcomes,’ said Virnesto, ‘what do you make of my terms?’

Beauceron could see in Oricien’s face the realization that he had no choice. If Trevarre did not arrive, there was no hope. Oricien nodded quickly.

‘Very well,’ he said, ‘subject to two conditions.’

‘They are?’ said Virnesto.

‘First, I require a fortnight, not a week. Our supplies are not so low as you believe.’

Virnesto gave a brisk acquiescence.

‘Second, you will know that I have Lady Isola in the city, formerly one of your party. She is of course my betrothed.’

‘Just so,’ said Brissio.

‘She speaks at length of one “Beauceron”, the animus behind your invasion. He is the infamous Dog of the North and, Lady Isola believes, a renegade lordling from
Croad.’

Virnesto gave a half-smile. ‘He is not accustomed to view himself in those terms.’

Oricien continued. ‘I am given to understand that your camp is not a garden of universal amity. Specifically, Beauceron is not popular within the Winter Court. Prince Brissio, I believe
there is considerable ill-will between you.’

Brissio said nothing, but a nerve in his cheek twitched.

‘My second condition is this: Beauceron has long plundered the land around Croad as the Dog of the North. This is an offence which cries out for stern punishment. Since he is an
encumbrance to the Winter Court, you may hand him over to my justice.’

‘You wish us to hand over the Dog of the North?’ asked Virnesto in astonishment.

‘Exactly so. It is a small enough price.’

‘No,’ said Virnesto.

‘Yes,’ said Brissio. ‘When you march out of the city I will deliver him to you myself.’

Behind the screen Beauceron gave a grim smile to himself.
We shall see who faces justice.

‘Then we have agreement,’ said Oricien. ‘If my relief has not arrived within the fortnight, I shall march out of the city with my men under a safe-conduct, and you will give me
Beauceron. If my relief arrives, our arrangements are void, although if you wish to hand over Beauceron nonetheless I will take him.’

Brissio rose. ‘We are grateful for your wisdom, my lord.’

Oricien bowed. ‘I must observe that should you take Croad, you will never hold it. Your best course remains withdrawal; but if you do not perceive that for yourself, the dice will fall as
they must. The Way of Harmony is followed regardless.’

He turned and left the room.

Immediately Virnesto said: ‘You will not give him Beauceron?’

Brissio gave a wide grin. ‘Naturally. He betrayed my father and escaped death; he fleers at my high birth; now we shall have our revenge. He will die as the common criminal he is.’
He held up his hand to forestall Virnesto’s objection. ‘I am resolved. Do not attempt to deflect me.’

4

Prince Brissio and Virnesto went outside to review the dispositions of their troops and inform the captains south of the river of the new realities. Beauceron gave them a
few minutes to depart and slipped out of The Patient Suitor via a back entrance. Brissio’s decision came as no surprise, but it changed the situation significantly. Brissio had not needed to
agree to Oricien’s stipulation: the Lord of Croad was in no position to bargain, for his food ran ever lower. Brissio’s agreement was determined by malice. Beauceron felt a ripple
running his spine: one thing he understood was vengeance, and he resolved to settle with the Prince when circumstances permitted. He wondered whether Virnesto would attempt to warn him of
Brissio’s treachery – but he knew the general had sworn fealty to the Winter Court, and owed Beauceron no particular loyalty.

He had himself rowed over the river and walked back around the camp to allow his thoughts to settle. The guard on the city wall lacked animation, and there was a palpable air of slackness around
the Mettingloom troops. Clearly the concord between Brissio and Oricien had become common knowledge. Why fight when in two weeks all would be resolved peacefully? The treasures of Croad, such as
they were, would be available to all without the need for bloodshed.

Beauceron shook his head in dissatisfaction. There would be blood shed, and it would be his, unless he could contrive an escape. He expected in due course to meet a violent death, but how
galling it would be to be undone by the lubberly Brissio!

He walked back to the section of the camp where his own men were stationed. They lay around in attitudes of negligence, Monetto among them.

‘What is happening here?’ asked Beauceron. ‘Why are you not drilling? My orders to Monetto were clear.’

Rostovac laid down the stick he was whittling with his knife. ‘There seems little purpose in risking death or injury when Oricien is packing to leave. If Emmen troops come, we will fight
them, but there is nothing else for us to do.’

‘False!’ said Beauceron. ‘Prince Brissio plans to hand me over to Oricien when he marches out of the city. If we do not take it in advance of surrender, I am
betrayed.’

Monetto sat erect from his lounging posture. ‘This is infamous!’

‘Just so. New expedients are necessary.’

‘We cannot construct new trebuchets in a fortnight, even had we the materials. You must storm the city.’

Beauceron rubbed the stubble on his chin. ‘Virnesto cavils at the cost in lives. Brissio cares nothing for the lives of his men but he will not risk a repulse when he can gain the city
through a fortnight’s indolence.’

Monetto grimaced. ‘We cannot take Croad with forty men.’

‘I will not be thwarted, Monetto. It is my destiny to take the city, with only one man if necessary. What I cannot do by force I will do by guile.’

5

Soon after sunrise towards the end of the truce, Prince Brissio presented himself at Beauceron’s tent. Beauceron was already awake and taking breakfast.

‘Good morning, my lord,’ he said, not troubling to rise. ‘It is rare to find you north of the river. Will you take a kipper?’

Brissio sat heavily on a field chair designed for a smaller frame. ‘Thank you, no. I have come to discuss dispositions with you.’

‘Dispositions?’

‘Come, man, do not fence. Lord Oricien surrenders tomorrow! Croad is mine! I would not have the event lacking in ceremony.’

‘This is not a palace ball.’

‘Do not be so prickly, Beauceron! We have not always enjoyed complete concord, I agree, but the time for pettiness is past! There is glory enough to go round. I will have avenged
Jehan’s Steppe, you will have whatever satisfaction you seek. Now is the time for cordiality.’

Beauceron carefully conveyed a piece of bread to his mouth. ‘Such statesmanship augurs well for your future and Mettingloom’s, my lord.’

‘Excellent!’ Brissio beamed. ‘I have sent to Oricien to arrange for his surrender at sunset. It is my wish that you and Virnesto are on hand for the moment, for who has earned
the right more? I would not have you sulking away in your tent.’

Beauceron permitted himself a slight smile. ‘You prefer to have me where you can see me, my lord.’

Brissio frowned. ‘Have I not spoken of our new mood of amity? Come, I will let you into a secret, although I had intended it as a surprise for the morrow.’

Beauceron raised his eyebrows.

‘I intend to honour you in accordance with your merits, before the very walls of Croad,’ he said, with a glint in his eye.