Kellanved's Reach

And he couldn’t help glaring and clenching his pike-haft with white knuckles whenever these same lords came trotting past in their fine regalia of flowing tabards, plumes, and intricate painted heraldry. They went bantering and joking, trading comments about the deplorable state of this year’s pike-pushers, or what fun they’d have on the field of colours against the Grisian cavalry.

Gregar didn’t know whether to stab them in their fat arses, or puke; or do both at the same time.

Time passed and he and his fellow infantry remained standing at attention in the chilling rain. Haraj sniffed and shivered. The sun behind the clouds rose to midday and still none of the assembled knights and lords appeared from within their tents. The delicious aroma of cooking wafted over Gregar and his stomach rumbled.

‘How much longer are we going to have to wait?’ he complained to Leah.

‘Till the order to stand down,’ she answered from the side of her mouth.

‘But this is useless. We’re just standing here!’

‘Quiet in the ranks!’ Sergeant Teigan bellowed from down the line.

‘We serve at our betters’ whim,’ Leah murmured – not without a strong dose of sarcasm.

‘So we just stand here while they decide whether they want to get their expensive clothes and decorations wet?’

Leah crooked her lips. ‘Now you’re catching on.’

Sergeant Teigan came storming down the front rank. ‘Quiet!’ he bellowed, halting right before Gregar. ‘You hold the colours – show some dignity and respect!’

Gregar squinted up at the wet rag hanging limp from the top of the pike. ‘Know what I think, sergeant? I think you can take this spear and—’

At that moment Haraj fainted to the muddy ground. Sergeant Teigan gaped at him lying limp in the muck. ‘Insulting the glorious tradition of Yellows!’ he roared. ‘Get up, you worthless piece of human waste! You’ll stand all night for this!’

‘He fell because he can’t stand,’ Gregar supplied, and he knelt to pick the lad up.

‘Not you,’ Teigan snarled. He pointed to two others, ‘You and you. Stand him between you.’

‘But f’r how long, sergeant?’ one of them complained.

Teigan pulled a hand down his flushed face and looked to the sky above. ‘Until the fucking Enchantress invites you into her boudoir – that’s how long!’

‘Now that’s a long time,’ Leah murmured aside to Gregar.

‘Hold him up,’ Teigan snarled, ‘till he can stand for himself, and then he’ll be out here all the night – I’ll see to it!’

‘He’ll die of exposure,’ Gregar asserted.

Their sergeant cocked a brow to him. ‘And what of it? Little loss, I should say.’

Stung by such casual cruelty, Gregar answered, ‘I’ll stand for him.’

The bushy brows now rose, either in astonishment or sarcasm – Gregar couldn’t be certain. ‘Oh, you will, will you?’ The fat man bellied up, nearly pushing against him. They were close to identical height, yet the sergeant stood stocky and rotund, Gregar broad and muscled. ‘Well, maybe I have something to say about that!’

‘Which is?’

Now the brows clenched, knotting together over the sergeant’s tiny eyes, as if the man were momentarily confused by Gregar’s direct response; clearly things were not proceeding in the usual manner. He pushed a stubby finger into Gregar’s chest. ‘Then I say you will stand! There! How do you like that?’

Gregar nodded slowly, feeling rather confused himself. ‘Right … as I offered.’

The sergeant sniffed loudly and peered round triumphantly. ‘That’s right! Ha!’ He brushed his hands together as if having set things well in order, and stomped off.

Gregar cast an entreating look to Leah, who was doing her best to keep a straight face.

The sergeant struck a position at the centre of the line and turned to face the assembled ranks. ‘Anyone else?’ he bellowed. ‘Anyone else have any pressing engagements? Invitations to dine with the chatelaine of Unta perhaps? No? Extra sets of lacy underthings to air? No?’ He set his ham-like fists to his hips and surveyed the troopers, nodding to himself. ‘Then we wait here as ordered! And we wait until the damned hillside crumbles into the sea if need be! For we are Yellows!’ Scanning them once more, he nodded to himself again, then strode onward.

Gregar leaned to Leah. ‘You know, he’s not half bad at that.’

‘You should hear him when he really gets on a roll.’

Limp between his two supporters, Haraj raised his head just enough to peer about. ‘Is he gone?’ His two supports pushed him from them, disgusted, and he stood brushing at the mud smearing the yellow surcoat over his old leather jupon.

Gregar restrained himself from swatting the fellow. ‘So you can stand?’

‘Quite. Thought that rather obvious from the timing, hey? There you were about to commit a punishable crime.’ He held out his pale hands. ‘I had to do something.’

Leah was now laughing openly, though silently. ‘Your friend’s right. He saved your skin.’

Gregar scowled his irritation. ‘Saved me? I don’t see how – I’m gonna be out here all the godsdamned night!’

‘There’s worse,’ Leah supplied. ‘Far worse.’

‘Such as?’