Страница 26 из 120
There was some truth in that, since he was ten inches taller than her five-nine and weighed over three hundred pounds, with shoulders as broad as a sheathed sword and a face like a cured ham atop a wedge of muscle where most men kept a neck.
"Besides, it'll be all jerky and hardtack soon enough, with raisins if we're lucky. Maggoty dead horse if we're not."
She nodded. The allied army was drawn up on the great open fields that sloped down from Todenangst's south gate towards the forest of oak and fir along the Willamette River; they served as green pasture for the castle's horses in peacetime, and now they blossomed with orderly rows of tents and pavilions. The smells of any war-camp-woodsmoke, scorched frying pan, slit trenches inadequately shoveled in after use, horses, leather and metal and sweat-mingled with the mild sweetness of the crushed grass.
The Rangers had the center station since she'd be in command. To her right were the thousand Mackenzie archers that Juniper had brought, beneath the ba
To her left was the Corvallis contingent, standing with their burnished armor and equally shiny field catapults, and the orange-and-brown flag of that rich city-state, with the letters PFSC above for the People and Faculty Senate of Corvallis. The flag bore the image of Be
The Portland Protective Association's contingent was on the far left. Several hundred were armored lancers on destriers, knights and men-at-arms riding great steeds that themselves wore armor on head and neck and chest. A thousand were footmen, half with spear and shield, the rest crossbowmen. The Association's men stood a little apart from the others-all of whom had fought the Protectorate during the War of the Eye twelve years ago.
Or at least their parents and elder siblings did. That's going to be awkward, she thought. Far too many of us have the memory of friends or kin killed by those men under the Lidless Eye ba
There was a stir in the crowd of commoners. Heralds in bright tabards and plumed hats marched in a double rank through the open gates of Castle Todenangst, formed lines on either side of the roadway and raised their long flare-mouthed silver trumpets. From behind them came the white glitter of polished armor and the glow of embroidered silk and vestments, and the flutter of heraldic ba
"Our sovereign liege-lady, Sandra Arminger, Regent of the Portland Protective Association for Crown Princess Mathilda Arminger! Lord Conrad Renfrew, Count of Odell and Chancellor of the Realm! The lady Tiphaine d'Ath, Grand Constable of the Association! His Grace, Abbot-Bishop Dmowski of Mt. Angel and Head of the Commonwealth of the Queen of Angels! Lady Juniper, the Mackenzie of Clan Mackenzie!-"
"The glory of the Elder Days, and the hosts of Beleriand," Astrid murmured softly, as the Protectorate commoners uncovered and bowed, or sank into deep curtsies before their rulers and those of the allied realms of the Meeting.
"Yet not so many, nor so fair," Alleyne replied in the same quiet voice. "And they're coming to us, and not vice versa."
"And not enjoying it at all, some of them," Astrid said happily. "It hasn't been a nice day for Tiphaine, at all, I imagine."
Even here in the midst of the castle, in the arming chamber of the Grand Constable's quarters, you could hear the low grumbling surf-roar of voices from the walls and the field to the south. It was time to go; she had to meet Sandra and Conrad and do the ceremonial necessities. Tiphaine d'Ath wasn't looking forward to it, but that had been true of a lot of the work she'd done for Sandra since the Change. You couldn't complain about the pay or benefits, and it was usually interesting.
"And they say I'm obsessed with fashion!" Delia de Stafford said.
"We've all got to look pretty to keep up the Association's credit in front of the foreigners," Tiphaine said, then looked down as the last buckle snapped home.
"Very neat, Lioncel," the Grand Constable said to her page, who was also Delia's eldest son. "But you musn't touch the plates with your bare palms; just the fingers. They smudge a lot more easily than the old chain mail did."
The harness was her parade armor, the same design as her field kit and just as practical in terms of stopping sharp or pointy or heavy things wielded with ill intent, but a good deal more showy, since the plates were made of chrome steel and burnished- white armor, the term was.
The page blushed painfully as only an eleven-year-old boy could do, and buffed away the marks with a chamois. He stood back after a moment; his younger brother Diomede knelt and wiped down her greaves and the steel cover of her riding boots. Unconsciously Lioncel's hands clenched in admiration as he stared at the slender form of steel and black leather he'd helped arm, her pale eyes nearly the color of the burnished metal.
That all showed to better advantage because of the tailor's-style three-valve wall mirror. The rest of the room was mostly bare and lined with sheets of salvaged marble and shelves bearing spare parts, polish and tools. Empty armor racks like skeletal ma
Maintaining a chevalier's armor was something pages worked on, under the supervision of squires, as part of the noble career path. The two boys walked around her with anxious eyes and ready cloths, to see if anything needed touching up, from gorget to the golden rowel spurs of knighthood.
"Now make your devoir to your lady mother. And then go and tell my lords the commanders that I'll be along shortly," she said, picking up her gauntlets. "Lioncel, take the helmet for me. Diomede, my sword belt."
They did, glowing with pride and pacing side by side, making a pretty picture in their dark liveries and brimless caps, one black-haired and the other almost as white-blond as Tiphaine herself.
Nice kids, she thought. Even if they are males.
Tiphaine had never had the slightest impulse to reproduce, even via turkey baster; Delia was enthusiastic about children, though, enough to use that venerable pre-Change technology. And the proforma marriage to de Stafford had served to e
" I'll do this part," she said.
She stood, a little awkwardly in her seventh month and the maternity version of the long-skirted cotte-hardi; the pregnancy had fleshed her delicate brunette prettiness out a bit, too. Tiphaine bowed her head for the flat, round black hat with its roll about the brim, and then stood as Delia arranged it on the Grand Constable's straight blond hair, twitching the broad tail to fall down past a steel-clad shoulder. A small livery badge at the front bore the d'Ath arms, quartered with Sandra Arminger's.
"And this," Delia said.
She unwound a long silk scarf from her headdress-a tall pointy thing with a passing resemblance to a brimless version of a witch's hat Which is ironic, Tiphaine thought.