“Good man,” Fred said, keeping the smile off his face; the last thing he needed was to look like a grinning kid.

Then he raised his voice a little more. “That what the rest of you think?”

Murmurs, and then a chorus of Yessirs.

“OK, think about this a little more, people. If Martin gets his hands on you, he’ll have you executed as traitors to him, sure as God, sure as fate. It’s win or die if you enlist with me. And I have the High King’s word he’ll try to avoid having us fighting our own people, use us against the CUT’s men . . . but there’s no guarantee there.”

Heads turned to Rudi; he shrugged and turned both hands up. “I do promise I’ll try. I don’t give oath I’ll always succeed because I don’t promise what I know I can’t do. That comes back to bite you on the arse, sure and it does, and you end up paying when you can least afford it. As your commander here said, there are no guarantees in war. If you enlist with him, you enlist with me, and soldiers under my command do what they’re told whether they like it or not, and it will be not quite a lot of the time.”

Saunders laughed. “That sounds familiar, sir. I’m in. This needs doing. I don’t expect to like it. I don’t expect an egg in my beer.”

A few edged out from the back, but that left over ninety; about as many as had refused to even listen to him.

“Get the men organized by squads, Sergeant,” Fred said.

“They mostly are already, sir. I can shift the others ’round.”

“Do it. And collect any personal possessions from barracks right away. I don’t want a battle here. Oh, and one last thing. All of you remember, if you sign up, you don’t get to change your mind while this war’s on. Anyone who tries is a deserter and gets what deserters usually do. Understood?”

“Yes, sir!”

“He can’t hear you!” Sergeant Saunders said.

“Sir, yes, sir!”

“Get them moving, Sergeant.”