“I regret we have little time to spend on conversation,” said the Brigadier, though. “Time is short and we have to be on our way. If you want to help us, we need fresh horses and food for the road. Any grievances you have with your King and his guards you will have to settle by yourselves.”

     “But you don’t understand!” said the man with the scarred nose. “We want to help you!”

     “Perhaps if the Brigadier and I were to speak privately...” said the old woman.

      “As I said, we have to be on our way. Time is of the essence.”

     “It's gone midday,” she said, though. “You'll be wanting to stop for a meal before long. Why not stop here where you're assured of safety and friendly company and you may hear something to your advantage?” She pointed a gnarled finger towards a nearby tavern. “There are no out of towners currently staying at the Motley Plough. Nobody but loyal Gendoll folk and good food, and it won't cost you a penny! Your money’s no good here, Brigadier. And while you're eating Brian can be sorting you out a pair of good horses to carry you on your way.” A thin man wearing a wide brimmed hat stepped forward and nodded enthusiastically at them.

     The Brigadier saw that there would be no getting away from this town without hearing what she had to say, and besides she was right. They did have to eat somewhere. “Very well,” he said therefore, and grins of pleasure broke out in the crowd. “Lead on, good woman.”

     Brian took their horses towards the town stables and the two Helberians followed the old woman towards the tavern. “The name's Megan by the way,” she said as they went. “Rendall's the head of the town council, but people in this town generally do what I tell ‘em to do.”

     “I can believe that,” said Grey in what he thought was a voice too low for her to hear, but she turned and gave him a sharp look. Grey looked abashed, and the feeling was doubled when the Brigadier gave him the same look. The Private said nothing more until they reached their table, in the corner of the tavern’s dining room.

     “Not much on the menu except bloodcake and potato,” said the serving maid who came over to take their order. “And I don’t know how much longer the bloodcake will hold out. We can't keep bleeding the cattle forever.”

     “Anything you can spare will be welcome,” said the Brigadier. The young lady nodded happily and trotted away.

     Once they were alone, Grey leaned towards the Brigadier and spoke in a low voice. “Perhaps helping organising an uprising would be a good idea,” he said. “Any kind of civil disorder in Carrow would help us in the war. They’d have to bring troops back home to put it down. Perhaps abandon the whole invasion if it was bad enough.”

     “There'll be no uprising unless we win the war,” said the Brigadier, though. “People like to give voice to their grievances, but that's a long way from actually risking their lives in revolution. So long as they're scared of the army, they won't rise up.”

     “They might if we promised them help. Weapons, information...”

     “We have no way of delivering that promise. All of Helberion cannot keep it.”

     “Doesn’t matter. If we can convince them that we can help them...”

     “No! King Leothan is highly regarded by other world leaders, and by most of the world’s common people, because he has a reputation for speaking the truth and keeping his promises. It is that reputation that is our greatest asset. We dare not damage it. Besides, we already have a mission. To meet up with the Princess and protect her. We cannot allow ourselves to be distracted from that mission.”

     “We can do both, perhaps. Keep going across country to meet up with her, and encourage people in every town we pass through to...”

     “No. Put the thought out of your head. How these people govern themselves is their business, not ours. We cannot interfere.”

     “We're at war with them! They're invading our country! When the King finds out we had a chance to strike a blow and didn't take it, he's likely to charge us with gross dereliction of duty!”

     “He'd be more likely to charge us with that if we did do what you suggest. Now be silent, our food is coming.”

     The food turned out to be stale bread and mashed potato, served with tankards of watered down ale, but they ate it and gave grateful thanks. “Please allow us to pay you for the meal,” said the Brigadier as they stood to leave, but the owner of the establishment repeated what Megan had told them and said that the honour of having them as their guests was payment enough. The Brigadier thanked him, therefore, and left the room.

     Megan was waiting for them in the foyer, and gestured for them to follow her into the tavern’s common room. She gestured for them to take a seat and they did so, at a table large enough for the three of them to sit together. Megan then sat opposite them. “I have a confession to make,” she said, dropping her eyes. “There is a hole in the wall. I was on the other side and I listened to your conversation.”

     “A breach of etiquette in any country,” said the Brigadier with a frown.

     “Aye, and I apologise, but I needed to know where you stood, and now I do.” She gave Private Grey a stern look that suggested that the tree from which the Dinsdale brothers were currently hanging was large enough for a third body. Grey went pale and his hand crept towards the pouch containing his pistol.

     The Brigadier’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the wrist, squeezing tight, and the Private stared at him, his eyes wide with fear. “Calm yourself,” he said. “These people mean us no harm.”

     “Really? The whole town just told two strangers that they intend to rebel against the King. If they find out we’re not with them, they might begin to worry what we'll say in the next town we pass through. Perhaps unintentionally, perhaps a thoughtless comment to the wrong person. They might decide to kill us just to be on the safe side.”

     “You're safe with us,” said Megan. “You have my word on it. We know you won't betray us to the King’s men.

     “How do you know that?” asked Grey.

     “You? If you were travelling alone, you might be right. Perhaps we would find a tree the right size for you.” She turned to the Brigadier. “You, though. You I trust. You spoke with honour and conviction. You speak the truth, just as your King does. We wish that your King was our King, because he rules fairly and justly. When the Tweenlands broke from Carrow and joined Helberion, I wanted our town to go with them, but we're too far from the border. We won't become part of your country unless all of Carrow does. That's what we dream of. A united country, but ruled by Leothan, not Nilon.”

     “I truly hope that it happens one day,” said the Brigadier. “Perhaps if we win the war...”

     “And how likely is that?” asked Grey. “Every news we get from home tells of more towns falling to the enemy, more Carrow victories. It's a wonder the King hasn't surrendered yet.”

     “As you say, the war isn't over yet,” said the Brigadier. “The most uncertain thing in the world is the outcome of a war. So many things can influence it. A messenger's horse throws a shoe, a sudden burst of rain turns a battlefield into a morass. And even if we suffer a technical defeat, hope remains so long as the royal line remains alive and free. That is why it’s so important to protect the Princess. The people of Helberion may rise up in support of her, throw out the occupying forces. We may lose on the battlefield for now, and regain our freedom under Queen Ardria some time in the future.”

     Grey looked doubtful, but Megan’s eyes shone. “Those Above protect her,” she said. “You are right, Brigadier. You must protect her. Let nothing distract you from that task. We had to ask, though. The whole country is abuzz with the news of your presence in Carrow. They can think of no other reason for your presence than to incite rebellion.”

     “Does that mean the guard's looking for us?” said Grey in alarm.

     The old woman cackled in amusement. “They are,” she said, “but we have people passing on all kinds of rumours, saying that you've been seen in Creen or Jaffar. Places far away from the route you'll be taking to Charnox. Have no fear, Brigadier. We'll keep the guard well away from you.”

     The Brigadier thanked her. “Have you heard news of the Princess?” he asked.

     “The newspapers say she's been captured by the King’s men and is being taken to Charnox by train. Whether it’s true I cannot say. We long ago learned not to trust what we read in the newspapers.”

     The Brigadier nodded. “We must be on our way,” he said. “Thank you for your warm welcome and for the meal. I'm sorry we cannot help you in the way you wanted.”

     “Thank you for your honesty and your integrity.” She gave Grey another look and the man suddenly became intensely interested in the curtains.

     The Brigadier stood and the others stood with him. They left the tavern and found Brian waiting for them with two fresh horses. The other people who’d been part of the crowd had largely dispersed, and were standing in small groups a short way down the street, chatting amongst themselves. They fell silent and stared curiously as the three people emerged.

     “I wish we could stay longer,” said the Brigadier when he was sitting in the saddle. “Perhaps when the war is over...”

     “When the war is over,” agreed Megan, although they both knew it was unlikely in the extreme. “Those Above watch over you, Brigadier. And over Princess Ardria. May you find her and see her safely home.”

     “And may better days lie ahead for you and all your people.” The Brigadier touched the peak of his cap to her, then gave a slap of the reins to start his horse on its way out of town.

☆☆☆

     The crowd began to gather again, watching as the two men rode away. “So, what did he say?” asked one man eagerly. “Will he help us?”

     “He will!” said Megan. An excited hubbub of conversation filled the street. “He said he's making his way from town to town looking for people to organise the rebellion. He couldn't say so earlier because of fear of spies, but once I'd convinced him of our honesty he told his real story. He left the organisation of the uprising in this town in my hands...”

     “None better!” shouted someone to cheers of agreement.

     Megan raised a wrinkled hand for silence. “Send riders to every nearby town and village. Send pigeons to towns further away. Tell everyone of the Brigadier’s mission. Call on all right thinking citizens to add their efforts to our own. Gather weapons for every able bodied man. When the Brigadier gives the word, everyone must be ready to answer the call.”

     More cheers rang out, and people dashed in all directions to carry out her orders and carry the news to the other townspeople who'd missed the Brigadier’s visit. Megan watched them with a look of regretful resignation. Sorry, Brigadier, she thought, but your coming is simply too good an opportunity to pass up. Your name will be a battlecry when the revolution comes whether you like it or not.