Light in the Gloaming (The Gloaming Book One) by Simmons J.B

Author:Simmons, J.B. [Simmons, J.B.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2013-09-01T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

UNBRIDLED CONFIDENCE

“Because the sentence

against an evil deed

is not executed speedily,

the heart of the children of man

is fully set to do evil.”

As the Prince of Valemidas, I expected more from my men. “We should have reached the mountains a week ago. Why is this army so slow?”

It was a shame to spoil my morning coffee with reprimands, but I had picked this fight and would win it. These insolent knights were dallying and slowing our pace. My Lycurgus was covering only fifteen miles a day, along the Prince’s Road no less. Not a single one of my men, my own Council, would look me in the face. They had plenty of excuses: rain, untrained men, few horses, heavy packs, camp followers. There were always plenty of excuses for failure, but excuses never helped.

“I want to conquer this city within the week. Tell me how we can do it.” They were standing around my map table in a half circle. Young faces and grizzled faces, they were nine knights and a priest. I did not miss Sir Sig. The company could have been worse.

Ulysses gazed at me with his old eyes. “The simple answer is yes,” he said. “We can make it there in five days, marching hard. Our forces should overwhelm theirs, but the mere fact that they have not fled means they have something up their sleeve. We should win, but I fear it will not be a pretty victory.”

“A victory is a victory, Ulysses, and we cannot win unless we actually get there. The people need to have confidence in the Lycurgus, and in me. I promised a quick victory, and this march has been less than inspiring. You do not need me to remind you of the numbers.”

We had set out with twenty thousand infantrymen and two hundred knights. I had not believed the first reports. Men were deserting. Fine, I had said, bleed out the weak ones. But the numbers had continued to grow. We had lost at least fifty men a day over the past week. Our two stops in villages since Albemarle had brought in fresh recruits, but not enough to replace the losses. Besides, these were scrubs, farmers looking for a chance to fight by my side.

“My prince,” someone interrupted my thoughts. This time Ulysses was looking down. It was the priest talking again. “My prince?”

“Yes, Father Yates, come out with it.” He had been pestering me every possible moment of my short reign about right and wrong, as he had my entire childhood. Debating was no use with the man, but I intended to teach him through actions that power mattered more than his pedantic lessons. Ramzi’s doctrine prevailed on that point.

“I have been receiving frightful reports from Valemidas. The people are not doing well. Our harvest will be weak this year, there have been political, ah, changes, and their faith is not what it used to be. My reports say crime is increasing and our churches cannot hold all the homeless. And this spring will soon be turning into a horribly hot summer—”

“Enough.

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