his words, glaring at each other but simmering.
“Forget it,” Buey said at length. Then added diffidently: “I’m sorry.” He glanced around the room, met each man’s eyes in turn. Heads bobbed in acceptance of his apology.
“Well,” Corbeau cast into the uncomfortable air, “that’s a step in the right direction. We’ve shown that we can indeed espouse the virtues of the Wunderknechten.”
“Now about the fighting company itself,” Armand Perigor began as the tension cleared. “Can you truly say you trust the mettle of these Italians who travel with you?”
“Iye —no,” Gonji replied honestly, “I’ve yet to see them tested.”
“Well, we’ll find out soon enough. My men ought to be provoking them right about now in the inns and alleys.”
Gonji cocked an eyebrow. “You take a great deal of responsibility upon yourself—unsolicited.”
Perigor shrugged. “You have other things to think about. I’ll render a report in the morning. You know, of course, that a high percentage of those who will ride out of here on this fine crusade will be worthless camp followers—”
“Squires bent on earning knighthood,” Gareau added, “by merely riding in the shadow of their champion.” He offered a toast that was seconded only by Orozco.
“If I were you,” Corbeau advised, “I should not burden myself with any but the blooded—and fanged, I suppose, as well—on this venture.”
A spate of brittle chuckling followed the Crow’s remark.
“I’m afraid I can’t afford to be terribly selective in raising this company,” Gonji explained. “Those who ride with us are accountable for their own lives. My—my friend suggested that I’d need to bring an army on this quest. I promised him I would do so. It will be a lot easier to bring an invading force into French territory if that force is comprised largely of Frenchmen, nicht wahr?” The samurai sighed deeply and regarded them from under a lowering brow. “Lieutenant Noyes has pledged me a column of cavalry from his own garrison. I saw no choice but to accept. Apparently the Crown itself would not look too unfavorably upon a free company that would help bring this recalcitrant Burgundy into line.”
“Wonderful,” Perigor said wryly. “And if we succeed, I should imagine that I and my companions will be led back under guard for trial.”
“That will not happen as long as I am still able to command,” Gonji assured him, resting a hand on the hilt of the storied Sagami.
Perigor looked to Corbeau, who was shaking his head sternly. “An utterly abominable mess. A corps perdu —a Company of Lost Hope, riding headlong into damnation.”
“And you have other problems,” Perigor observed. “Corbeau?”
The Crow fixed a hard gaze on the samurai.
“You lead an incompetent, ill-trained, ill-equipped expedition—though I concede them a marker on the side of good intentions, for what it will be worth—against the Farouche Clan, the foulest, most feared name in France today. All hope of clandestine action is thoroughly compromised. Every field and furrow and mountain pass from here to Dijon whispers your purpose loudly enough to wake the slumbering gods of the Gauls. Clear my suspicious mind. Tell me that you have in this matter exceeded even the most incredible tale of your legendary oriental cunning. Tell us all that you have performed an act of legerdemain worthy of the greatest adepts. That you have orchestrated a masterful scheme of misdirection as to your true purpose.”
All eyes were on the samurai. Only the crackling hearth broke the expectant stillness.
Gonji’s gaze was unwavering. He spoke through scarcely parted lips.
“All is…for better or worse…as it seems.”
Corbeau drew back from the table, his countenance alight with amazement. Perigor began smoothing his eyebrows alternately with the sweating fingers of one hand. The rest of the warriors looked from one to the other, betraying their fleeting sensations of
“Forget it,” Buey said at length. Then added diffidently: “I’m sorry.” He glanced around the room, met each man’s eyes in turn. Heads bobbed in acceptance of his apology.
“Well,” Corbeau cast into the uncomfortable air, “that’s a step in the right direction. We’ve shown that we can indeed espouse the virtues of the Wunderknechten.”
“Now about the fighting company itself,” Armand Perigor began as the tension cleared. “Can you truly say you trust the mettle of these Italians who travel with you?”
“Iye —no,” Gonji replied honestly, “I’ve yet to see them tested.”
“Well, we’ll find out soon enough. My men ought to be provoking them right about now in the inns and alleys.”
Gonji cocked an eyebrow. “You take a great deal of responsibility upon yourself—unsolicited.”
Perigor shrugged. “You have other things to think about. I’ll render a report in the morning. You know, of course, that a high percentage of those who will ride out of here on this fine crusade will be worthless camp followers—”
“Squires bent on earning knighthood,” Gareau added, “by merely riding in the shadow of their champion.” He offered a toast that was seconded only by Orozco.
“If I were you,” Corbeau advised, “I should not burden myself with any but the blooded—and fanged, I suppose, as well—on this venture.”
A spate of brittle chuckling followed the Crow’s remark.
“I’m afraid I can’t afford to be terribly selective in raising this company,” Gonji explained. “Those who ride with us are accountable for their own lives. My—my friend suggested that I’d need to bring an army on this quest. I promised him I would do so. It will be a lot easier to bring an invading force into French territory if that force is comprised largely of Frenchmen, nicht wahr?” The samurai sighed deeply and regarded them from under a lowering brow. “Lieutenant Noyes has pledged me a column of cavalry from his own garrison. I saw no choice but to accept. Apparently the Crown itself would not look too unfavorably upon a free company that would help bring this recalcitrant Burgundy into line.”
“Wonderful,” Perigor said wryly. “And if we succeed, I should imagine that I and my companions will be led back under guard for trial.”
“That will not happen as long as I am still able to command,” Gonji assured him, resting a hand on the hilt of the storied Sagami.
Perigor looked to Corbeau, who was shaking his head sternly. “An utterly abominable mess. A corps perdu —a Company of Lost Hope, riding headlong into damnation.”
“And you have other problems,” Perigor observed. “Corbeau?”
The Crow fixed a hard gaze on the samurai.
“You lead an incompetent, ill-trained, ill-equipped expedition—though I concede them a marker on the side of good intentions, for what it will be worth—against the Farouche Clan, the foulest, most feared name in France today. All hope of clandestine action is thoroughly compromised. Every field and furrow and mountain pass from here to Dijon whispers your purpose loudly enough to wake the slumbering gods of the Gauls. Clear my suspicious mind. Tell me that you have in this matter exceeded even the most incredible tale of your legendary oriental cunning. Tell us all that you have performed an act of legerdemain worthy of the greatest adepts. That you have orchestrated a masterful scheme of misdirection as to your true purpose.”
All eyes were on the samurai. Only the crackling hearth broke the expectant stillness.
Gonji’s gaze was unwavering. He spoke through scarcely parted lips.
“All is…for better or worse…as it seems.”
Corbeau drew back from the table, his countenance alight with amazement. Perigor began smoothing his eyebrows alternately with the sweating fingers of one hand. The rest of the warriors looked from one to the other, betraying their fleeting sensations of
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