Chapter 18: Going to War
"Think ya got everythin'?"
Logan looked doubtfully at the single bulky pack on the third horse, then down at Lee, smiling in amusement as the red-faced, panting boy tugged down the last strap holding the tent canvas to the pack-horse's back. "I think so," the boy said, wiping his forehead on his sleeve. "Francis gave me a written list of everything we would need to bring. I spent the morning trying to get it all together, and when I went down to the stable there was only one packhorse left. I had to take it, but I had to unpack everything and repack it small enough to get everything you needed onto one horse."
Logan's eyes narrowed as the boy's words sank in. "Everything I need," he said gruffly. "What about what you might need?"
"I packed my horse with my stuff," Lee said cheerfully. "I'm light; my horse can carry me and my stuff." Logan squinted at the small pack on the back of Lee's horse. "Where's yer sword?" he asked. "Not the one I gave you, the one that murdered yer parents?"
Lee sighed. "I couldn't figure out how to carry it along," he said. "I had to leave it back in my chest. Francis told me if I valued it I should take it with me, but I can't. I'll have to take the risk on having it stolen."
Logan shook his head, going over to the pack pony and loosening one strap. "Go an' get it. We're gonna bring it along if I gotta carry it myself. That sword's the only thing ya got ta identify yer parents' murderer, an' if ya want revenge yer gonna need it. Go an' get it, an' we'll see what we can do." The boy scampered off, and Logan commenced to unpack the pony and examine the bundle.
He was surprised. The kid had saved a lot of room by wrapping the tent canvas around the blanket-wrapped bundle of Logan's belongings, saving a lot of space by using the tent itself as a bag, instead of using the heavy sacks the other squires had packed for their horses. It helped that Logan's tent was small, too, and had always been; big enough for two people to sleep in with some distance between them but no space for much else. Some other knights carried tents big enough for three, or even four; space enough to bring a girl or two to share the tent with the knight and the squire. Logan had never been in the habit of doing so; and he knew the boy would feel the same. The boy shared Logan's disgust over the behaviour and attitude of the female camp followers. Logan didn't think women should be on a battlefield at all, given their silliness and predilection for screaming and running when faced with aggression and a challenge. Lee's distaste ran deeper; he hated being pawed over and fawned upon by girls who thought that he was 'pretty.'
He surveyed every inch of the inside of the pack. Clever, that the kid had thought of using the tent to bundle everything in; the tent would keep everything dry, where the sacks provided would not. There was his spare armour, wrapped in his cloaks and tunics; extra boots and shoes tucked close to the outside, where their dirt wouldn't soil anything else; extra clothing stored in the bottom, where they would be out of the way. Only frequently used items were stored in the top of the bundle.
The kid came running up, holding the sword in its scabbard. Logan took the sword in his hands, feeling the weight of it, balancing it in one hand to find the central balance point, then shifted a few items in the bundle around to allow the sword to slide into the top of the sack, the hilt protruding from the opening at the top. He looked at the hilt again casually, still unable to place where he'd seen the pattern on the sword hilt before, but not having the leisure to think about it again. Not as if he'd have had any better luck, either; he'd spent enough long winter nights pondering the insigne on the hilt of the sword and still had no answer. "There," he said, helping the lad lift the bundle up onto the packhorse's back and tightening the straps down on the one side while the boy did the other. "Now all o' our stuff's going."
Jubilee smiled brightly, deciding not to tell him just how much of her own things had been left behind. She'd spent time packing all of Logan's things, yes, but she'd spent just as much time agonizing over what she needed and what she wanted. The pack on her horse, with her things, held her padded sleeping blanket with the rags for her monthlies sewn into the lining; her spare cloak had been likewise sewn in over the blanket. She'd packed two changes of fine clothes, one in Logan's gold and blue colors and one in the red and gold of a squire in the service of a knight whose oath was sworn to the King and Queen, two changes of the plain dark blue clothes they would wear while actually traveling, her spare boots, a pair of soft shoes, her red cloak, belt, and regular sword. There hadn't been room for anything else; she wore her blue and gold uniform for the assembly and ride through the city, but once out of the city and stopped for the night, she would shed the finery for the plain blue clothes suitable for road travel. And it wouldn't be any too soon; the dress clothing she wore might look fine, but the high collar was uncomfortable, and the thick weave allowed no air in beside her skin.
Finished with their packing, she turned and looked at her fellow squires with their knights. The entire field behind the castle was bustling with activity, as close upon a thousand knights gathered and packed for the week-long journey to the border. Those knights who didn't have their own squires were doing their own packing, and not having a good time about it. She turned to Logan. "Logan?" she asked. "Would you mind if I went and helped some of the other knights who don't have squires?"
Logan grinned and ruffled the boy's hair. "Sure, kid," he said. "That'd be nice of you." He could still remember vividly the days when he didn't have a squire. Life with a squire was definitely easier without one; and Lee was the best one he'd ever had. He gave the boy a shove in the direction of Sir Vincet, who was struggling to buckle the girth on his pack and hold the load on the horse's back at the same time. The horse wasn't helping, either; he had sucked in a breath, and was holding it with his sides ballooned out. Sir Vincet was cursing the beast.
Jubilee came up on the horse's other side, and swung a fist on the horse's glossy ribcage. The horse, surprised at this sudden attack from an unexpected quarter, let go of the breath he was holding, and she grabbed the pack to hold it steady. "Tighten the girth quickly, Sir Knight," she said, suddenly realizing she didn't know this particular knight's name.
Vincet looked up, startled, from where he was bent against the horse's side, but didn't see a head. There was, however, a pair of short legs firmly planted on the ground on the other side of the horse. "Obliged to you, lad," he said, and with a final grunt he cinched the strap around the recalcitrant horse. "Thank you, lad," he said kindly, as the legs walked around the horse and showed them to belong to the little squire Logan had taken under his wing. "Lee, is it?"
The boy nodded. "Sir Logan and I are done our packing, and I decided to see if any others needed help." As the boy spoke, he was buckling the bridle with deft, sure hands, making sure the blanket was draped correctly over the horse's back, and that the royal crest was clearly visible on the horse's rump. Those small details attended to, he picked up the sword and scabbard from the ground and held it out to Vincet.
Vincet took the sword, smiling at the boy. So helpful, and so cheerful. And those blue eyes…Vincet grinned into those bright blue sapphires. "Thank you, lad," he said. "If I have a need for other help I'll let you know, if you're free?"
"Sure," Lee grinned cheerfully, bowing to the knight. "As long as I'm free." He turned, surveyed the field, and headed off toward another knight who was having trouble balancing the load atop a prancing horse.
"Here, boy!" came a call, and Jubilee spun, ready to go and help, only to find it was Julian who called. "I need help!" She briefly considered walking away from the other knight, but the man's things were strewn all over the ground from a sack whose mouth had come untied, and a look showed him far behind everyone else. And she was supposed to be a squire, after all, obedient to the will of any knight. Reluctantly she headed for his packhorse.
A great many of the things in his pack didn't make sense. There was a long coil of rope, extra food, rags, and extra clothes. She was about to point out to him that those things weren't necessary, but his closed expression invited no criticism, and so she bit her tongue and set about the packing. A single knight, unpartnered by a squire, was permitted one packhorse; partnered knights were allowed two. The rule was left mostly up to the individual knight's honor to obey; Julian clearly had not. If he had she wouldn't have had to choose what she would leave behind, because she would have had a packhorse of her own. His first packhorse was packed and ready; his second one had been the troublesome one. Jubilee repacked everything and tied the sack securely, wondering at half the things in there; she could see no reason for the coils of rope or the extra clothes and rags. Still, if he wanted them, let him have them. She hefted the sack onto the packhorse's back, keeping the lead rope tightly wound around her wrist, and cinched the pack tightly onto the horse. Julian watched her critically, giving a sharp order here and there (which she basically ignored). When it was all on the horses, she gave a short, curt bow that was not deep enough for true respect and just deep enough to pass for courtesy, and headed back across the field to Logan.
Julian watched the boy go, admiring once again the straightness of the boy's back and the gentle outward curve of the boy's posterior. The boy had been efficient, Julian had to give him that. All of his stuff was packed now, even the extra sack of items he'd need to take his captives two days into enemy territory. He'd seen the question in the boy's eyes at the extra rope and other equipment, and thanked God that he'd had the presence of mind to pack the shackles for the lad in his bedroll. He reached down and felt for the lump of hard metal inside the bedroll, smiling secretly. Good iron, smooth, with locks that would be extremely hard to pick.
I want that boy! Julian snarled angrily, hunger for the boy's flesh setting his body aflame. Across the field, he saw the kid mounting his horse smoothly, reining it in beside Logan's, and leaning out of the saddle to give the straps on the pack horse's pack one last tug, to make sure it was secure. Julian stared at the slim wrists, imagining what they would look like with his shackles on them, imagined the boy's cries as Julian used him savagely after months of wanting, needing…
"Daydreaming?" came a harsh voice from his side, and Julian looked down, to see Duke Gilbert standing beside his horse and looking quite amused. Julian leaned down and hissed, "What are you doing here, you're a noble, you're not riding out with the King…"
"I volunteered to escort the Queen here to see the King off," Duke Gilbert said, his voice oily with satisfaction. "If I stop to talk to some of the brave knights, it won't be remarked on." He lowered his voice. "You understand how this is to go?"
Julian nodded. "I capture Logan and the boy in the heat of battle, take them away to Gallas's fortress. He questions Logan there while I play with the boy. Once Gallas gets the location of the King from Logan, he'll send his own knights to capture the King, and the war will be over. He'll take the King back to his castle and threaten to harm him before the Queen with harm if she doesn't abdicate the throne. Of course the Queen will comply; they say she's madly in love with Richard. Then Gallas takes the throne and the King and Queen are placed in the dungeons. I get granted land and a dukedom, with a palace in which to enjoy my new acquisition, and you get to rule Gallas's former lands." Julian's eyes strayed back to the squire, who was now clashing swords in a mock battle with Logan as their horses pranced around each other, caught up in the excitement of going out to war. "Either way, I still get the lad."
Gilbert snorted. "Yes, you boy-loving fool, you get the boy. What this obsession is with him, I'll never know. You want him. The serving maids want him. The Queen still invites him to her chambers. I don't understand. I don't see anything special about him."
Julian shrugged. The Duke nodded to him as he stepped back. "Very well, then, to each his own. I want power; you want a boy. So be it. I'll await you and Gallas with the King as a prisoner here, and I'll keep an eye on the Queen so she does not suspect anything. Go well, Julian. Luck be with you."
Julian grinned and tied the lead rope to his first packhorse to the back of his saddle. Lee had already tied his second horse to the first horse; all he had to do now was wait for the order to mount up; and in the meantime, he could eye the boy, knowing that soon the boy would be his. He smiled at the thought.
"MOUNT UP!" The King's herald called, using his considerable vocal power to cut through all the noise and chatter of the preparations. Those who were not going, like the Queen (who had been lingering by the King's side) stepped back. Wives stepped away from their husbands, serving maids shed a last few tears over the squires and younger knights before retreating to the castle, and the knights all mounted. Those who wore the red and gold livery of the King's Guard rode to the front of the lines, to stand beside the King; the King's Knights fell into three orderly columns behind the King and the King's Guard, and the other knights followed them. Jubilee stayed close to Logan's horse's rump, leading the packhorse as they got into line. Then she tied off the rope to her saddle, gathered up the reins, and waited for the order to move out.
At the head of that long line, King Richard turned and surveyed the assembled knights. "The endgame begins today, my brave knights!" he bellowed, his voice carrying across the field in the hush. The only sound was the stamping of horses and the snapping of the royal pennant and the knights' personal standards in the breeze. "We will meet Gallas in battle one week hence at the border, and we will crush him! This long war will finally be over! After a long winter, my people, spring has come, and we shall be back by summer! So let us ride onward, and finish this war!" A swell of cheering followed his announcement, and as he turned his white horse and started walking out of the field, past the palace and on through the city, the knights fell into file behind him.
Jubilee met the Queen's eye across the milling horses and riders. The Queen looked worried for the King, and there were tears in her eyes, but she waved bravely to Richard, and then tipped her head, very slightly, to Jubilee. Jubilee, unnoticed by anyone else, pulled the Queen's signet ring from under her shirt and held it up on its leather thong. The Queen's eyes picked up the glitter of the ring, and nodded again, then was lost to view as the flood of humans and horses carried Jubilee along past the Queen and out the palace gates to the city.
The streets were lined with people waving the King and his knights off. Jubilee stared around her as the townsfolk cheered and waved all of them, throwing handfuls of flowers and flower petals before the King. Maidens milled around, waving handkerchiefs, and Jubilee saw not a few knights reach out to grab the bits of brightly-colored fabric, tying the bits of cloth around their arms and kissing the hands of the girls who offered them. Jubilee felt a sudden tug on her saddle blanket, and looked down to see a stout, red-faced woman trotting along at her stirrup. "So young, lad," the woman said, reaching into her basket and grabbing for a fruit-filled sweet pastry and pressing it into Lee's outstretched hand. "Eat that, there, it'll bolster your courage. And take care of your knight!" Jubilee waved back at her as she rode on past the woman, and stared at the tart for a moment, tears pricking her eyes as she smelled the early mulberries and spices that went into the making of it. For a moment she wasn't sitting on a horse in the King's vanguard, she was back in the wagon with her parents, accepting sweets from the kindly baking women in the villages they passed.
Logan turned in his saddle, saw the boy's forlorn look, and bit his own lip. How many of these men riding today would not be coming back? How many knights would never come back, how many shields and swords would they be bringing back for the women to grieve over? And what about this boy behind him, would he becoming back too? Would the boy live to reach his eighteenth birthday, and knighthood? Logan almost changed his mind and told the boy to get out of the parade, to go back to the castle, but the boy dashed away his tears, bit into the tart, and continued to smile and wave at the gathered populace, never noticing Logan's gaze. Logan straightened in his saddle, facing forward determinedly. So be it. The boy had as much right to fight for his King and kingdom as any other knight and squire here. Logan would do his best to keep the boy safe, and hope that God would hear his prayers and allow the boy to come thorough the coming battle unscathed.
He'd do his damned best to see that the boy came back alive.