They swept to a stop, and before the hooves had stopped moving Ritva come out of the saddle in a showy vault-dismount and went to one knee before him, bowing with hand to heart for a moment, and then extending a dispatch.

Some of the others snorted a little at the showiness. He didn’t mind; such things kept hearts strong, and battles were won in the heart as much as on the field.

“Rise, and give me the report verbally, sister,” he said.

She’d been sent for more than carrying an envelope; not least, to give an account that even the most birth-proud Associate lords would listen to carefully. He handed the document to Mathilda and then finished the sandwich with one last large bite, relishing the salty smoky tang of the cured meat and the sharp onion with it. He did not think he would die this day, but even with the Sword of the Lady there was no such thing as certainty.

Mathilda opened it and began to read it quickly while Ritva stepped up to the map.

“The Grand Constable’s rearguard are making a stand here,” she said. “Four Yakima infantry regiments and about three thousand horse, a thousand lancers and the rest light cavalry. The rest of the expeditionary force have broken contact and should be here”—she tapped the map to the northward, where the Horse Heaven Hills turned higher and sharper before they fell away to the Yakima Valley—“any minute now. They’ve got what’s left of the baggage train, mostly field ambulances and the wounded . . . the ones who haven’t been wounded in the last hour or two. We burned the rest of the wagons two days ago. A lot of the troops haven’t eaten in twenty-four hours.”

“Lord Chancellor,” Rudi said.

Ignatius nodded, turning and giving orders in a low voice. Messengers knelt to listen to him, lean men and a few women in leather, Church couriers, many of them of the Order of the Shield. Clerks were writing as he spoke; the orders were folded, stamped and on their way while Ritva was still speaking.

“Enemy forces?” Rudi asked.

“Mostly light cavalry, their vanguard, trying to pin us. About ten thousand men. That’s not counting their casualties, they’ve been pushing it hard and paying the butcher’s bill.”

Someone whistled softly; ten thousand was a stunning number for the mere lead element. Ritva went on: “But the Hîr i Dúnedain says there’s at least one brigade of Boise troops only about two hours by bicycle behind them and he strongly suspects more within striking distance.”

Her finger traced an arc farther east, converging on the force that had been delaying and harassing the advance of the CUT and Boise.

“Ah,” Rudi said. “Time and force and space. If that rearguard is not pulled out before the enemy are there in force enough to invest it, they are lost.”