He waved to the mounted trumpeters just behind him. Their polished bugles gleamed like gold under the strong spring sun as they raised them to their lips. The first thrilling notes of the Detinan royal hymn blared forth. A moment later, a great cheer from the long column of gray-clad soldiers drowned out the hymn.

“Forward!” Hesmucet shouted, trying to make himself heard above the din. “Forward against the traitors!” Those of his men who did hear him cheered louder than ever.

In the manner of a northern noble, Doubting George made his unicorn rear and paw the air with its forelegs. That, too, wrung a cheer from the soldiers. Hesmucet, who was only an ordinary rider himself, found the stunt showy and artificial. Again, he wondered whether George was trying to show him up. Again, he gave his second-in-command the benefit of the doubt.

I wonder if Joseph the Gamecock has these worries, he thought as he began to ride north. I know Thraxton the Braggart did. But then, Thraxton worried about every officer under his command. He did everything he could to make every officer under his command hate him, too. Just as well for the rightful king’s cause that Thraxton never came close to realizing it.

Thraxton, these days, was back in Nonesuch, giving King Geoffrey advice. The two of them got on well, however much trouble both of them had getting along with anybody else. They deserve each other, Hesmucet thought.

“You’re not dividing up the force,” Lieutenant General George remarked.

“No, I’m not,” Hesmucet agreed. “I don’t know where in the seven hells we’ll end up having to fight. Wherever it is, I want to strike as hard a blow as I can with my men.”

“Good,” Doubting George said. “When Guildenstern marched north from Rising Rock last fall, he split his army into three parts. We’re lucky Count Thraxton didn’t destroy us in detail. Losing the battle by the River of Death was bad, but that would have been even worse.”