Chapter sixty-seven

Ortia besieged

 

By the end of the next day they could see the dust rising in the east and by dusk the lights of the approaching army were clear and bright, particularly to Viola’s eyes. They raced on, fearful that they would be caught up in a sea of attackers.

‘Who are they?’ asked Kath

‘Tlaxacans’ muttered, Viola, ‘that’s all I need to know’

Hardacre said nothing, but even he spent a lot of the time peering out of the coach.

‘Will we get there before them?’ asked Kath

Viola shrugged

‘Let’s hope so…’

There were no staging posts beyond the coal mining town of Karpika and so the poor horses had to gallop on with no hope of rest before Ortia, just under a day away. It rapidly became clear, however, that they would not get to the city before their enemies.

Hardacre told the coach driver to stop, a few miles from where they could see the encircling Tlaxacan fires.  This was only the vanguard, but it would be impossible to avoid encountering enemy troops however they approached.

They stood on a ridge overlooking the city. Viola could see that the walls were already covered in archers, most of whom were only a little less eagle eyed than she.

‘Even if we could avoid the enemy, we’re likely to get shot by our friends’

Hardacre nodded: ‘we need to find another way to get in’

‘How will you do that?’ asked Viola

‘I have a plan’ he said, ‘but first we need to persuade the coachman to lend us his coach’

 

***

The coach continued its journey towards the city. Hardacre had paid off the coacher and his postilion. He changed into dustier clothes and took up position driving the coach. This was easy as all he had to do was point it in a straight line.   They were stopped within a few minutes of seeing the besieging troops. There weren’t many, as yet, but they still represented an unbreachable obstacle.

A captain and his entourage, about twenty men, approached them. Hardacre clambered down from the coach as they approached.

‘Hello there!’ he shouted in his best Eth City accent.

The captain rode close. He didn’t attempt to get down from his horse.

‘Who are you?’ he asked, in perfectly passable, if heavily accented, Ethian.

‘I’m Mr Samuel Denny – I’m a…’ Hardacre paused for a second, ‘…hired hand’ He reached down to where he might be concealing a knife if he had ever carried one.

‘And where are you from Samuel Denny?’

‘Eth…’

‘And why are you here?’

‘I’m returning a prisoner; there’s a ransom to be paid’

‘Show us’ the captain barked

Hardacre opened the door of the coach and gestured. Kath pulled Viola out – she was gagged and blindfolded and led by a thick rope that’s knotted end bound her hands. The elf glared at her captors and then at the Tlaxacans.

‘Who is that?’

‘An Ortian elf. We captured her running away, some time ago. She was consorting with humans. Mucky business. We wanted shot of her and the authorities here are willing to pay’

The captain considered Viola with unhidden disgust.  For a moment Hardacre thought that he was going to kick her. He grimly prepared himself to do nothing if he did.

‘Nasty little thing. But. That’s nothing to do with us…’

‘True – yes – I can see that – that’s why you need to let us through’

‘I can’t let you through – can you not see that this is a siege?’

‘Makes no difference to me – I can’t return without the ransom. In elf rounds, for preference. It’ll only take ten minutes to pop inside and get it’

‘You can’t’

Hardacre affected to study the captain closely.

‘You pay us then...’

The captain frowned.

‘We can’t. We have no money. Well, not yet…’

He grinned, nodding over to the old white city.

‘But….soon…’

Hardacre frowned, the sort of frown that a publican assumes when he hears the words put it on my slate, landlord.

‘I can’t wait that long’

‘Well, then, you’ll have to go back without the ransom then’

‘My master won’t like not getting his due’

‘Who’s your master?’

Hardacre forced his lips into a thin line.

‘Can’t say – but he’s easily upset; and he has a lot of powerful friends’

‘Eth is a long way from here…’

Hardacre shook his head. He lied smoothly.

‘Two days away; they have troops everywhere –in Amansk, Gorodnikov, even Karpika’

‘You don’t scare us. There can only be a few in each of those places…’

‘And witches’ muttered Hardacre, ‘there are always witches’

He stopped for a moment.

‘What’s your name, by the way?’ he asked, with an air of innocence. He pulled a scrap of paper out of his pocket and then scrambled around in the same place for a pencil

The captain turned abruptly and went to talk to his peers. There was a few minutes while the three friends were left considering their shared awkwardness

The captain returned.

‘We’ve agreed to let you in’ he grunted, ‘but we have a condition…’

‘Which is?’ asked Hardacre

‘You have to let us smuggle in two spies, inside your coach’

Hardacre didn’t hesitate.

‘Fine by me…’ he paused a beat.

‘That’ll cost you ten elf rounds’

‘What?’ bellowed the Captain, deeply affronted.

‘Or equivalent’ Hardacre conceded.

The Captain made as if to argue with this but then stopped himself.

‘We’ll pay you in gold’

Hardacre smiled.

‘No skin off my nose, mate, how you pay me, as long as I see the colour of your money.’

 

***

 

They piled back in the coach, now discombobulated by the two Tlaxacan spies lying at their feet. Kath almost felt sorry for them – she hoped that their spying days would soon be over.

They rolled forward, past the besieging army and into the no-man’s land between them and the wall. Hardacre waved a white shirt up at the battlements and hoped for the best. At least it was an Imperial coach. There were no arrows, at least for the time being.

A small door in the wall opened up and an elf looked out at them without leaving the safety of her little hiding place.

‘Who are you?’ she shouted up.

Hardacre made his way down to talk to her. His movements were exaggeratedly careful. A stray arrow whooshed over his head but he ignored it. There was a brief  whispered conversation and then they were let into the eastern gate.

By the time the city guards converged on the coach to find out exactly what was going on, an untied Viola had arrested the two spies, her sharp blade at their throats. It took a little while to explain what was happening, but as soon as the garrison saw Viola, in her battered imperial jacket, they were happy enough to believe Hardacre’s story.

They led the prisoners away. Hardacre was busy talking to a garrison captain, while Kath was blinking in the hard winter sunshine.  Major Viola pointed at a random soldier.

‘Citizen – take me to the Proconsul’ she commanded.