Almost as bad were those fearfully burned but well enough to run. They ran maddened like dogs with their tails set alight by cruel children, not knowing where they went, only seeking respite from pain, or God’s mercy perhaps, neither of which I thought them likely to receive.
And then things got more interesting.
The white-hot heat was so intense it was setting off adjacent fires, tents catching like kindling, canvas flapping loose, pieces burning in the air like demented hellfire seagulls, carrying their deadly energy on down the line.
Men who were not injured came running from all corners of the camp with useless quantities of water, some even with wine goblets, attempting to douse the fires, which they could not even approach without staggering back at the intensity of the heat.
My position was becoming untenable. I was neither injured nor helping, so I slid quietly away in the confusion.
It was all most satisfactory. I hoped Aleksey was having the same luck.
When I reached the horse line, the next stage in my part of the plan, some of the horses were rearing and whinnying with distress. Even the most stoic twisted and turned in place, casting anxious glances at the urgent activity behind them. I could see the flames mirrored in Xavier’s wide eyes. I relieved the boy guarding the line by impressing upon him the fire would soon reach his position and he must run for his life. I waited until he’d shot off into the dark and then released all the horses. They cantered off away from the noise and flames as I held our two steady. I waited and waited. I grew increasingly anxious and many times started to retie the horses so I could plunge back into the burning camp to find Aleksey. So many things could go wrong. After an agony of expectation, I saw him running, leaping debris in his way, the flames silhouetting him.
He grinned at me and took his horse’s reins. “They are planning to ambush our line, Niko. They have blocked the head of a valley and will allow us to enter, then block the end and be waiting on the ridges. It will be a bloodbath.” He swung up into the saddle, desperate to be on his way and save his army. “Come on!” He disappeared into the darkness.
I grinned at his slim, disappearing figure and put a foot to my stirrup.
“Hello, Doctor.” I whirled around, my hand going to one of my knives, but I felt a thump on my head and then darkness as I sank to the ground.
ICAMEaround, bound and sick and lying upon the cold ground. I heard muffled voices, which were actually only muffled by the ringing still in my ears and the blow I had taken to the head. I tried to stifle a groan, but someone saw I was awake and pulled me to my knees. I peered up, and an icy trickle of fear ran down my spine. This was worse than I had thought: Rohanus, Aleksey’s inebriated officer. I spat toward his boots, and he stepped back. He did not appear at all drunk now.
“I knew you were no doctor, Hartmann. What is your mission?”
I don’t know whether I was more annoyed to have my medical skills questioned or to have been so easily caught. Both, I suspect. “I could ask the same of you, Colonel. What is your mission?”
He hit me. I reeled back, unable to save myself, for my arms were pinned behind my back, and I hit the ground hard. Rough hands pulled me to kneeling again.
“What is your mission?”
Clearly, this was going to get repetitive. I wondered when it would start to get serious. I had grown up with masters of torture. These people had no idea. Well, I have to admit that Ihopedthey did not. I spat out some blood. “I am here as a doctor, that is all.”
He nodded, turned as if to speak to someone, reeled around, and hit me again. I took the blow better, being prepared for it, and spat some more blood. “What is your mission?”
“I’m a—” More hitting and more spitting ensued. Suddenly the tent flap opened and a soldier came in. He said something into the colonel’s ear, and the questioning changed.
“Where is your servant?”
I looked down, praying Aleksey was well on his way back to the army with his information. Clearly Rohanus had not seen my “servant” in the flesh, and no one had thought to describe him. I was fairly sure thatvery tall, slim, handsome, and startling green eyesmight rather give the prince away.
I debated the best thing to say and finally settled on, “He was caught in the fire.” I held the left side of my face toward him, so he could see the black powder burns. “I did not realize that the gunpowder was there.”
He hit me again. “Where is your servant?”
“In the fire! I can show you his body if you want.”
My fire had caused a great number of casualties, and one burned, shriveled man’s body would look much like another—pretending to search them would give Aleksey more time. He indicated for me to be pulled to my feet. I dwarfed the two soldiers holding my arms, and I felt I could take them despite the ties to my wrists. But this was not the time. I had to let Aleksey have a chance to get far away before they suspected him. They half dragged, half carried me down through the lines toward the scene of the fire, which was not out by any means. I did not think they would ever be able to stop the spread. I was tempted to suggest they create a firebreak and move the remaining tents and wagons, but it suited my purposes to let it all burn. With so many bodies, it was impossible to tell who anyone had been, and after poking around for a very long, useless amount of time, I told the colonel so. He nodded for me to be taken back to his tent.
I stumbled and fell on the way back a few times. It gave the impression I was a great deal more injured than I actually was. The questioning began again. Finally, as I reckoned that Aleksey was many miles away by now, I admitted that I had come to the camp to cause the explosion, that my mission was to destroy their gunpowder. I said we had been given information from our spies that they were carrying this lethal weapon of war, and that had been my target. He liked this, I could see. It fitted into his paranoia about his own work as a spy. He hit me again, just because he could.
There was commotion outside the tent, and he went to the flap and raised it. He spoke briefly in the local language and then went out, leaving me with my two guards. I curled up on the ground, groaning softly. Happy that I was no threat to them, they stood closer and began to talk together, sharing some bread. I had my knife in my hand by then. They had found all of them but this one, the inch-long blade I kept strapped tight to thehighest part of my inner thigh. It had taken weeks and some unpleasant accidents to learn to wear this knife there, but it was well worth the effort. No man ever searches another man there, and it always stayed concealed. I could just access it, even with my hands behind my back. I had begun the more difficult task of sawing through the bindings that held me—awkward because of the angle I had to hold the blade—when the colonel came back in.
“Bring him.”
They dragged me to my feet once more and herded out of the tent. It was dawn, misty. The sun illuminated the faint scene of chaos. As soon as we left the tent, soldiers began to dismantle it. They had thought of the firebreak at last. The guards pushed me along toward a wagon, and I assumed they would take me with them for further questioning.
Then I saw the noose hanging from a makeshift gallows. They had upended one of the wagon beds and strung a rope around the shaft so it hung down, waiting. I could not saw at my bindings without being seen. Soldiers surrounded us, pushing and shoving and wanting to get a good position to view the execution.
I tried to speak to the colonel, but he rode too far ahead and could not hear me over the baying of the mob. Something hit me on the head. I think they had just told the men I set the fire. Many of their friends and colleagues had died. I didn’t rate my chances to actually get to the noose. I went down, my knees impacting the frosty ground. I groaned, rolled over, and almost completed my task, but as I was yanked to my feet, I lost the knife. My fingers, numb now from being bound too tightly, could not keep it in my grasp. The colonel had mounted and circled me with a couple of other officers, beating down upon the heads of the mob, forcing a passage through to the wagon.
