‘What is it? I’ve a battle to die gloriously in.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t want to stop ’em strumming ballads in your honour.’

‘They already sing songs about him,’ said Shallow.

Deep grinned. ‘Not in his honour, though. We found something might be of interest.’

‘Look!’ Shallow pointed off to the south, white teeth smiling in his mud-spattered face. ‘There’s a rainbow!’

There was, in fact, a faint one, curving down towards the distant barley as the rain slackened and the sun showed itself again, but Calder was in no mood to appreciate it. ‘Did you just want to draw my attention to the endless beauty all around us, or is there something more to the point?’

Deep held out a piece of folded paper, creased and dirty. Calder reached for it and he whipped it theatrically away. ‘For a price.’

‘The price for paper isn’t high.’

‘’Course not,’ said Deep. ‘It’s what’s written on that paper gives it value.’

‘And what’s written on it?’

The brothers looked at each other. ‘Something. We found it on some Union lad.’

‘I’ve no time for this. Chances are high it’s just some letter from Mother.’

‘Letter?’ asked Shallow.

Calder snapped his fingers. ‘Give it me and I’ll pay you what it’s worth. Or you can peddle your rainbows elsewhere.’

The brothers exchanged glances again. Shallow shrugged. Deep slapped the paper into Calder’s hand. It didn’t appear to be worth much at a glance, spotted with mud and what looked suspiciously like blood. Knowing these two, definitely blood. There was neat writing inside.

Colonel Vallimir,

General Mitterick’s troops are heavily engaged at the Old Bridge. Soon he will force the enemy to commit all his reserves. I wish you to begin your attack immediately, therefore, as discussed, and with every man at your disposal. Good luck.

Then what might have been a name but it was right in the crease, the paper was all scuffed and Calder couldn’t make sense of it. It looked like an order, but he’d never heard of any Vallimir. An attack on the Old Bridge. That was hardly news. He was about to throw it away when he caught the second block of writing in a wilder, slanting hand.

Ensure that the enemy are fully engaged before crossing the stream, and in the meantime take care not to give away your position on their flank. My men and I are giving our all. I will not have them let down.

General Mitterick, Second Division

Mitterick. Dow had mentioned that name. One of the Union’s generals. Something about him being sharp and reckless. My men and I are giving our all? He sounded a pompous idiot. Ordering an attack across a stream, though. On the flank. Calder frowned. Not the river. And not the bridge. He blinked around at the terrain, thinking about it. Wondering where soldiers could be for that order to make sense.

‘By the dead,’ he whispered. There were Union men in the woods over to the west, ready to cross the beck and take them in their flank at any moment. There had to be!