A knight was singing, alone at first and then joined by a dozen others:

“Morning red, morning red
Will you shine upon me dead?
Oliphants will soon be blowing,
Then must I to death be going,
I and many merry friends!”

Rudi Mackenzie looked up from the map, remembering to keep the bacon and fried onions folded in a wheat cake aside so that it wouldn’t drip grease on the precious document. The tall young man was one of the Protector’s Guard, helping his squire to groom his destrier a little down the slope from the royal command pavilion; he wove ribbons into its mane, and it snuffled at him and lipped his yellow curls until he fed it an apple.

Around him his friends and comrades were finishing bowls of porridge and bannocks and bacon, many already in their war-harness and the others in the midst of donning it, laughing as they sang, a few waving their spoons to the chorus:

“I and many merry friends!”

“Nothing like a little pessimism,” Rudi said in a dull tone, and took another bite.

“It’s not pessimistic,” Mathilda said seriously. “It’s a happy song, a young man’s . . . Oh, you got me again!”

She thumped him in the ribs; a largely theoretical gesture, since he was in full plate, but her gauntlet made a satisfying whunk against the steel and he grinned and winked.

The air was full of the sounds and scents of an army getting ready to move; men’s voices, the clank of metal, the creak of leather and wood, the occasional snort or neigh from a horse. Sweat and scorched bacon and dung, but also the clear cool fall air, and the first rains had laid the dust and left a dusting of green across the rolling hills. Banners snapped and fluttered, their points streaming towards the east and the enemy. Long shadows stretched westward, from the hills and the odd tree. Mostly the land here was tawny wilderness, even the herds of wild horses and antelope and bison fled. The birds waited overhead, though, crow and raven and buzzard, riding the air and waiting patiently.

They would have their victory today, whatever passed among humankind.

“The sun will be in our eyes for the morning,” Bjarni Ironrede said, looking at the map. “Here?” he added, pointing.

“But the wind will be at our backs all day,” Oak Barstow said. “Fifty, a hundred feet extra range, and the cloth yards will hit harder.”

“Here is where we deploy,” Rudi agreed, tapping his left forefinger on the map where Bjarni had indicated. “But if they’ve any wisdom, they won’t force a full engagement while we hold that position. They’ll push a little and then try to work around us.”

He turned his head. “Lord Chancellor, you will continue to function as Chief of Staff here,” he went on.