The Prince blinked, then looked down at the wet ground, his jaw muscles working silently. 'You're right. I'm sorry. I realise I owe you my life, of course. Not used to this sort of thing, you see. Not used to it at all.' He plucked at the frayed and filthy lapels of the coat and gave a sorry chuckle. 'My mother always told me that a man should be well presented under all circumstances. I wonder what she'd make of this.' West noticed he didn't offer to give it back, though.

Ladisla hunched his shoulders. 'I suppose I must shoulder a portion of the blame for this whole business.' A portion? West would have liked to serve him a portion of his boot. 'I should have listened to you, Colonel. I knew it all along. Caution is the best policy in war, eh? That's always been my motto. Let that fool Smund talk me into rashness. He always was an idiot!'

'Lord Smund gave his life,' muttered West.

'Shame he didn't give it a day earlier, we might not be in this fix!' The Prince's lip quivered slightly. 'What do you think they'll say about this back home, eh, West? What do you think they'll say about me now?'

'I've no idea, your Highness.' It could hardly be any worse than what they said already. West tried to squash his anger and put himself in Ladisla's position. He was so utterly unprepared for the hardship of this march, so completely without resources, so entirely dependent on others for everything. A man who had never had to make a decision more important than which hat to wear, who now had to come to terms with his responsibility for thousands of deaths. Small wonder he had no idea how to go about it.

'If only they hadn't run.' Ladisla clenched his fist and thumped petulantly at a tree root. 'Why didn't they stand and fight, the cowardly bastards? Why didn't they fight?'

West closed his eyes, did his best to ignore the cold, and the hunger, and the pain, and to push away the fury in his chest. This was always the way of it. Just when Ladisla was finally starting to arouse some sympathy, he would let fall some loathsome utterance which brought West's distaste for the man flooding back. 'I couldn't possibly say, your Highness,' he managed to squeeze through his gritted teeth.

'Right,' grumbled Threetrees, 'that's your lot! On your feet again, and no excuses!'

'Not up again already is it, Colonel?'

'I'm afraid so.'

The Prince sighed and dragged himself wincing to his feet. 'I've no notion of how they can keep this up, West.'

'One stride at a time, your Highness.'

'Of course,' muttered Ladisla, starting to stumble off through the trees after the two convicts. 'One stride at a time.'